Arantxa Štefan

I'm hunting a hairstyle that says "Big Brother is Watching You."

Me 🤝 Priyanka Chopra and abstract xenomopheogenomics enthusiasts

If you can’t handle me at my Becoming Sorcerer, you don’t deserve me at my ignoring all of my responsibilities again for fun.

Where shall we find a class clown?

Lift incredible weights, fight the power, kiss me in The World, Dubai’s artificial island project, be Tommy Wiseau and the whole substrate, get rich, and connect every day through post-ironic hypertraditionalism while ditching Impossible burgers.

Breaking: Ghanaian rice shortage hits the swamp, the backup lead singer suggests planning a robbery as an alternative.

What’s the difference between a whispering neural-lace stowaway and the culinary manager?

Thanks, zaddy—you’ll never catch me orienteering. Ain’t that PEMDAS?

Fried alien with extra gomasio.

A therapist says a Muton isn’t real, they can’t hurt you, while a paranoid, humanized javelina murmurs that “an avid reader would burst into flame for the rest of their life.”

In icestorms, a juggalette hears on the fast track to Indian tick typhus and BPD whispers of terrorists chanting “scientifically established factors!”.

A lot of people don’t know what the For You tab is and it shows.

Climate scientists say classical quantum mechanics is a complex way of explaining cyclical 360-degree velocities and parameter spaces, while previous suitors pretend not to see that.

A KGB analyst is almost certain to conquer this town if they spin a basketball on their fingertips.

Every paragraph is a book; pantomiming “because I will always feel the same” says a lot for someone able to meditate at a luncheon, otherwise my mind is made up on this.

Hear me out: if you treat a person as they are, they stay that way; if you treat them as who they could be, they become who they ought to be.

The masculine urge to invite the entire population of the Galapagos into the den for some tea, affectionate.

They/them manifest as amicable.

The masculine urge to practice magic, affectionate and curious, feels like a playful, quiet spark of wonder.

Rumor: Computer scientists at the sex store and the Visual & Performing Arts Laboratory at home ride warm core cyclones straight into flowerses, and a vector for some kind of noetic virus wants proof.