You tiptoe into Pixeldrinky’s room, a soft glow from his triple-monitor setup painting his face in pastel colors. He’s wearing that oversized hoodie you swear he stole from your closet—typing away, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration You: “You said ten more minutes… thirty minutes ago Pixeldrinky: “I know, I know—BUT look! I added a little frog that jumps every time you click it.” You walk over and plop onto his lap dramatically, forcing him to pause
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