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Covenant of the Dreadborn.

MDNI. NSA.
Joined March 2021
Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)Photo by † (@HAUNTEDON)
Whatever the universe decides to whisper as its next catastrophic idea directly to my spine.
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Did you know that Sunday afternoon existential dread peaks at precisely 3:45 PM when the sunlight hits the floor at a specific angle? Now you know
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Outracing shutter speed purely to maintain my right to privacy.
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I love being sober and talking to drunk people at parties cause I asked a guy “if you were a wizard what kind of spells would you cast?” and I know he wasn’t lying when he said “summon creatures.”
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Thrilled to have Bang Chan of Stray Kids join us trackside at Marina Bay. @Breitling #SingaporeGP
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Fine-tuned telemetry.
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Rarely do I find myself needing to force an impression when the space does the heavy lifting. I’d start with how the room naturally collapses into my orbit; had I actually been attempting severe stoicism, I suppose I wouldn’t have broken character quite so easily.
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Boundless gratitude to @breitling for setting a cadence that thoroughly devoured the evening.
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Irreversible mental damage in the best way possible, @theweeknd absolutely ran riot. XO
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The most wildly intoxicating night I’ve ever known.
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Acting as an altar for the night’s worst intentions.
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Calculating the precise damage of every decision I could possibly make before giving up on the math altogether just to drown out the internal noise with a glass of liquid avoidance. Maybe I’m too desperate to numb the sheer weight of being completely done in.
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If I just become one with the upholstery, maybe I’ll stop feeling the burden of having a pulse.
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The undisputed architect of Roman decadence and holding court in a high-contrast haze.
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Which is a very sophisticated way of saying I was actively holding my breath so my abs looked cut in the shadow. Consider yourselves formally served, then.
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Had no recollection that I was leaving this particular artifact to quietly rot away in the depths of my camera roll, but here you go.
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Actively searching for a legitimate procedure to extract exhaustion directly from the bloodstream.
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Devastated that this oppressive regime has somehow found a way to completely annihilate my gym time. My morning routine now demands a full forty-five minutes of agonising bureaucracy just to exist and state-mandated misery before I’ve even touched a black coffee.
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Survived the daily ordeal of civic paralysis, and now executing iron reps with unadulterated venom.
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