House MD was crazy for having their mc be an autistic bisexual depressed disabled drug addict who canonically self harms and experienced abuse AND was in a doomed codependent toxic yaoiship with his repressed homosexual bestie

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@the-write-owl
House MD was crazy for having their mc be an autistic bisexual depressed disabled drug addict who canonically self harms and experienced abuse AND was in a doomed codependent toxic yaoiship with his repressed homosexual bestie

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When the group chat arguing and bro starts messaging you privately
you're gonna look me in my big green eyes and tell me.. no?
ābaby, what that mouth do?ā eat cheese
why is this post completely broken in every way imaginable
Broken notes⦠deactivated account⦠removed imageā¦.
Finally, we have them all.
In addition: OPās name is just⦠gone. No ā[insert username]-deactivated[insert a bunch of numbers]ā as is the standard for deactivated blogs.
Just the world ādeactivated.ā Look upon their post, ye mighty, and despair.
Itāll be almost impossible to find this post unless it wanders across your dash.
It wandered across mine. I shall help it travel forward.
this is not a place of honor
Oh hey post of Ozymandius, good to see you again standing on your feet in a desert where no one remembers you

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Clip of Lucy Dacus on the Las Culturistas podcast.
Already know I wanna send this to people on June 1
Audio:
Erika, referencing ebenezer scrooge: You, boy! What day is it?!
Brennan, as a young boy: It's Pride, bitch!
when i was a tiny baby queer (aka a 24-year-old), i went to my first pride festival probably three months after i kicked ex-gay therapy to the curb and came out to my parents. being the people they are, my parents came with me. they werenāt really sure about this whole gay thing, but they loved me and wanted me to be safe and happy and wanted to be involved in what was important to me, so they came along. (i also think my mother still might have thought i might get drugged or murdered or beaten by a protester of which there were plenty.)
anyway i wanted a memento of my first pride, you know, and this one vendor was selling keyrings, and i liked it, so i bought one. do you remember those italian charm bracelets that were all the rage like 10-15 years ago? it was a keychain like that, and it had a rainbow rooster, a rainbow cat, and then just a rainbow, and so I bought it.
i run into my mom a couple of vendors over and she goes oh you bought something? whatād you get? so i showed her, and i was like,Ā āIām not sure why itās a rooster and a cat. Seems kind of random. But I liked the rainbows.ā
and my mom, who was some form of ministerās wife for most of my childhood and teenagerhood, stares at me like she thinks iām joking.
āWhat?ā i say.
āā¦itās a cock and a pussy, Jules,ā she says flatly, and that is the story of how i died at the age of 24 while attending my first pride festival.
I love how every June this one gets dug up and passed around again, lmao.
oh no is this what weāre doing now
ā¦relicā¦
*crumbles and blows away on the wind*
the men in my life are all good men, or, at least, they are men who are not violent - and that is enough for a man to be considered good; that he could be violent but is not.
the men in my life are good men. recently at a hardware store one of the men in my life let me stand behind him, just a little, in that ghosting way that girls can learn. the disappearing technique we master of shadowing behind our Good Men. this was to protect me from a man who was not-being-good.
i fall down. one of the good men in my life offers me one arm like a knight, we are laughing while i clamber back onto my feet. i give the good men in my life piggy back rides because i like to show off how strong i am. i give the good men in my life run-at-them hugs. i let the good men in my life pick me up like i am a sack of grain; i get the good men in my life coffee, i make them sandwiches, i teach them dancing.
i am a man-hater, obviously. i am gay enough the insult is sort of funny. waiting for the bus, where there are men who are not-known-to-be-good, i google how to make a fist. i can never remember if the thumb goes on the outside or the inside, only that it is imperative that i do not fuck it up or i will break my thumb at the same time the man tries to break me.Ā
i walk my dog around the track only-at-dusk and-no-later. i made that mistake once, in august, hoping i could take a later run and maybe see the stars - i romanticized the idea of being able to skulk like a fox. the man that followed me across three lawns, two road-crossings, and back to my car - he spent the whole time whistling. the good men in my life say - oh, do you need me to come with you? and are actually asking - do you feel safe?
i fall down in a supermarket. a man i do not know grabs the inside of my knee. i do not know if the man is good, but i am supposed to give men the benefit of the doubt, so i laugh while standing. a man trying-to-be-in-my-life says what, no hug?Ā and i have to decide if it worth it to just take off or put up with it. a man who-might-not-be-good stares at me while i walk by - i have to calculate if heās just looking or if heās watching. other men have badly hurt me, physically. the casual remark made is that those men are not real men. but they were real enough, to me.
there are many men who are mad at me. an entire reddit thread once was dedicated to how to dox me for feminist ranting - it was kind of funny, when it wasnāt downright scary. i have been stalked and harassed and treated horribly. they are all good men, in their own lives, you know. they are not violent, usually, unless provoked, and all it takes for a man to be good is for him to not be violent unless provoked, and i am, of course, always provoking.
a man in my life rolls his eyes.Ā āi am sick of hearing this. we get it, all men are fucking evil. get over it.ā
a man who-is-not-good shouts something unwritable at me. i have to tell the good man i am standing next to - itās okay, this is nothing compared to what-could-be, this happens, itās really not that big of a deal to me.Ā
ābut it should be,ā he says.Ā āit should be.ā
Fun fact: Cheetahs only attack prey that runs
jesus that is good to know.
Yup, thatās the point you just stay still and let it do whatever the fuck it wants that doesnāt involved you getting eaten.Ā
REALLY FUN FACT for big cats cheetahs are fucking docile as shit
my grandfather ran a cheetah sanctuary in south africa and heād just lie with them and sleep among them and theyād rub against him and chirp at him theyāre big fucking babies
Another Fun Fact: Cheetahs are incredibly nervous animals. One of the (many) reasonās theyāre going extinct is that cheetahs are so sensitive and nervous, some of them are literally too nervous to breed. Others will breed, but stress themselves out so much, theyāll lose their cubs. So zoos with breeding programs had to figure out how to make cheetahs comfortable enough to first of all, get laid and secondly - not spazz themselves into miscarrying. So whatād they do? They gave the cheetahās their very own Service Dogs! The dogs make them feel safe, protected and secure!
AJHHHHFDDGHH SO PRECIOUS
this post just got so much better
THIS IS OFFICIALLY MY FAVOURITE POST
this is emmett and cullen they are best friends
This is the greatest thing Iāve seen all day.
Dogs are truly angels.
so THATS why these cheetah ft dogo pics exist
the anxiety cat
Also! Cheetahs are not in fact classified as big cats, they are simply very large lesser cats, due to the fact that they purr, meow, chirp, and cannot roar. Also many cheetahs have learned to recognize wildlife photographers are friends and not foes, so they will just come up to people and be friendly occasionally as pictured at the top of the chain. Some will even leave their Cubs with photographers to look after while they hunt. So. Yeah. Cheetahs are great
this works because cheetahs are actually fairly social animals, and they look to members of their group for context on how worried they should be about any given Situation. but since cheetahs are also nervous social animals, they can work each other into an anxiety spiral pretty easily over things like ābeing in an enclosed habitatā and āthereās a guy over thereā.
so by introducing a dog as a member of the group, the cheetahs will now look to the dog for context clues on how worried they should be! and the dog Is Not Worried At All, Thanks, so the cheetahs think everything must be chill even if they were personally unsure about it, and they stop being so freaked out about literally everything.
Cheetah: oh god whatās going on how are we feeling weird spotless cheetah
Dog: :) fine, thanks
Cheetah: :) oh, okay
Wasnāt expecting this of all posts to be the first tumblr post Iāve ever seen crest 2mil notes, but Iāll take it

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i love you semicolon. no one look at my 80 word sentence
In the sound of your laughter and the soft breathing as you sleep next to me
In the taste of your lips on mine and the view of your curls haloing your face as you lean into me
In whispered reassurances and corrective smacks to the forehead
In every small moment and grand adventure with you
I find another piece of heaven
you can be peeling a boiled egg and think to yourself wow. that was so simple. and then you peel another one and itās like being in the throes of war. shell everywhere. egg mangled. tears in your eyes. thatās how god keeps you humble
i saw this post earlier about therapists and it reminded me of my old therapist paul, who in my opinion is one of the greatest men alive and who did not put up with my bullshit for even one second
anyway i go in to see paul one week in the summer of 2016, and iām doing my usual bullshit which consists of me talking shit about myself, and paul is staring at me, and then he cuts me off and says that heās got a new tool for helping people recognize when theyāre using negative language, and gets up and goes over to his desk
and iām like alright hit me with that sweet sweet self-help article my man, because iām a linguistic learner and whenever paulās like here i have a tool for you to use itās pretty much always an article or a book or something
paul opens a drawer, takes something out, and turns back around.Ā i stare.
i say, paul.
is that a nerf gun.
yeah, says paul.
i say, are you gonna shoot me with a nerf gun in this professional setting.
he happily informs me that thatās really up to me, isnāt it. and sits back down. and gestures, like, go ahead, what were you saying?
and i squint suspiciously and start back up about how iām having too much anxiety to leave the house to run errands, like it was a miracle to even get here, like iāve forgone getting groceries for the past week and thatās so stupid, what a stupid issue, iām an idiot, how could iā
a foam dart hits me in the leg.
i go, hey! because my therapist just shot me in the leg. paul blinks at me placidly and raises an eyebrow. i squint again.
i say, slowly, itāsā not a stupid issue, iām not stupid, but itās frustrating me and i donāt want it to be a problem iām having.
no dart this time. okay. sweet.
so the rest of the hour passes with me intermittently getting nailed with tiny foam darts and then swearing and then fixing my language and, wouldnāt you know it, i start liking myself a little more by the end of the session, which is mildly infuriating because paul can tell and heās very smug about itĀ
anyway i leave his office and the lady having the next appointment walks in and i hear whatās all over the floor? and paul very seriously says cognitive behavioral therapy tools.

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Iām tired and afraid most of the time now
My bones ache and my skin feels raw
My muscles cramp and my heart and mind race
I donāt sleep like i should
I canāt breathe like i should
I canāt feel a momentās peace like i should
My privacy is gone and my safety lives elsewhere
I keep throwing up in the shower
I was sobbing in bed instead of getting any semblance of rest
And now I don't have a bed to call mine at all
I can't talk to my family; I don't have friends
I want to scream but can't seem to find the strength
I just want the nightmares to stop
I want her in the softest way possible. I want to take her out, hold doors open for her, remember the little things she likes and hold her as she tells me about her day. I want to kiss her forehead when she's tired and overthinking, telling her that everything will be okay and just make her feel cared for in every way.