I saw tye most Machete-coded Italian greyhound at work today. Sad wet eyes, frail frame, and constant anxiety to match. But I couldn't just say he was Machete-coded so I told my coworker he looked like he belongs permanently squeezed in the Temple Grandin Hug Machine
Raise your hand if you also belong permanently squeezed in the Temple Grandin Hug Machine.
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getting older can be so amazing? you get more familiar with yourself. learn tips & tricks for troubleshooting your own brain. trial & error helps you build routines that minimize discomfort, maximize reward. your preferences/interests don't get set in stone, but you do find out which ones are going to stay with you in the long-term, and which ones are fun but transient joys to appreciate in the moment.
you learn that the world is so much more complex than you were taught, and that that's okay, and that there's an endless supply of things you can learn or watch or experience or think about if you want to. if you're lucky, you loosen up, stop putting so much pressure on yourself. if you're lucky, you learn to recognize that negative inner voice, and whack it with a baseball bat until it hushes up. if you're lucky, you learn to treat yourself gently, not because you are fragile but because you are worthy of gentleness. (i hope you are lucky.)
and some things will change. some things will get better. some things will get good. and maybe you start to recover from the dehumanizing stress of childhood/education. maybe you learn the power of your own autonomy. maybe you learn how to walk away from bad situations (which is a superpower even if you don't realize it yet). and you get to choose your own clothes. and your own food. and which relationships to pursue! and what you do with your free time. and with your life (but don't worry you get to choose that gradually). and that's crazy! and sometimes scary. and extraordinarily, indescribably precious.
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Even though he'd never admit it (never, not even if someone asked him on his deathbed)
Even though it was painful to admit to himself,
It was an undeniable fact that you gave Sukuna butterflies.
He feels them in the way you mindlessly trace his tattoos when the two of you are sitting together, alone. Your touch is feather-light. The brush of an angel wing.
He feels them in the way you say his name when the two of you reunite after a long day. A sigh of relief. Solace.
They flutter with the way you wrap your hands around his cheeks and hold his face like your holding the sun.
They're in the way you kiss him. When you softly bite into his lower lip like you're biting into the flesh of a sacred fruit.
They're in the breeze that picks up your soft scent and gifts it to him.
In the sunlight that catches onto the stray strands of your hair and has you glittering against the dim world.
His heart races to you.
What a sap.
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Today I saw irl Machete. He was watching a historical ship departing from the harbour. He was very good boy and wearing a dog-vest.
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Love at first sight. 🪼🌺🌸
(Minute 00:08:29)
Don't you notice how 🍓
I get quiet when there's no one else around 💫
Me and you and awkward silence ❤️🩹
Don't you dare look at me that way 🌺
I don't need reminders of how you don't feel the same 🏵️
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i love hermits who are always moving around when they talk but its really funny to imagine in-universe. that its just super normal to like, jump up on tables mid conversation and nobody blinks an eye
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"mu qing is hit with sex pollen and Feng Xin is there to fuck him" WRONG
MU QING IS HIT WITH SEX POLLEN AND SUMMONS FENG XIN TO TAKE CARE OF HIS BODY BECAUSE HE WOULD HIT HIMSELF IN THE HEAD TO AVOID BEING FORCED TO SLEEP WITH ANYONE AND LIE THERE UNCONSCIOUS AND HE TRUSTS FENG XIN WITH HIS LIFE AND CULTIVATION BECAUSE HE KNOWS HE WOULD NEVER TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HIM
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