file7 of the train to caleco hill be like:
i am correct
tash has no clue what he is doing and i love him for it
(the train to caleco hill is a podcast by @little-paper-ghost-child, you should listen to it. this is not sponsored /srs)
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I mean, why not Draw Ori and or Nigel :)
I decided to be a bit sketchy with this one--
[Image ID: Nigel, a boy in a sweatshirt, showing Ori, a girl with a long braid, a book of Shrek Lore. It's got the reference in the bottom right of a red person showing a blue person a book. End ID]
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big jock werewolf who bullies you. he teases you for being so wet while they fuck you with his fat fingers and pulls your shirt up to snap pictures of your chest. he pushes you up against lockers and sticks his tongue down your throat too.
Big jock werewolf who eats you out in the locker room, he tells you you better cum quick because he isn't stopping until you do, even if the other team members walk in. he hopes they do, so he can tease you for being such a slut and getting off while other people watch.
Big jock werewolf who is not your boyfriend and will laugh if anyone brings it up, but it anyone so much as looks at you he'll beat them to a bloody pulp.
Big jock werewolf who asks for you to send him notes one day, then as soon as he has your number all he does is send you videos of him jerking off, moaning the whole time about how badly he wants to knot you until he cums and the video ends. He texts you asking if you liked it, if the video made you horny, and where's his video, he's been so nice the least you could do is send him a video of you playing with yourself.
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iñaki godoy studied luffyology at the esteemed monkey d'university. he graduated top of his class. latin honors. he's on his way to get a phd. oops wait he's already got it. my god. the talent on this young man. he's got that natural troublemaker face. the class clown at the back of the class kind of energy. a kid who's hiding something in his hand. u take one glance at this guy and u know he's not up to no good. but would u follow him anyway? are u kidding me. look at him. of course u would.
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Help! My dog keeps hunting these little animals in my yard. I don't know if this is an endangered species. Anyone has tips on how to stop dogs from doing this?
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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we talk about wilson being awful and evil deep down and he is but importantly that doesn’t erase the sincerity of his kindness. he is truly kind. he needed to help that old woman in post mortem because he does care about people. what makes him interesting is that he doesn’t want to. he gets mad at himself for being kind and nice and selfless and enabling. he wants to be selfish and mean. he would be happier that way. meanwhile house hates himself for being selfish and mean. house wants to be kind. house would be happier if he was wilson and wilson would be happier if he was house. and both of them are only able to be those versions of themselves when they’re together. they not only want to be with each other, they want to be each other. but the fucking tragedy of it is that they actually need to be the versions of themselves that they don’t like to be together. because if wilson was mean he would’ve dumped house ages ago and if house was kind wilson wouldn’t find him interesting. house loves that wilson is secretly evil but needs him to be kind, and wilson loves that house is secretly kind but needs him to be evil. they can’t change. they have to suffer themselves to enjoy each other. they’re plagued with an inability to be who they want to be in anyone’s arms but each other’s, but they both have to be who they don’t want to be to be in each other’s arms. the immutable tragedy of the hilson paradox
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