So I think my mind have finally understood that me going to watch käärijä live is happening because both today and yesterday when Spotify reached Cha Cha Cha on shuffle I've gotten these flashes of realization like "wait a minute ... in less than 2 weeks I'll be in a crowd listening to this freaking live" which in turn resulted in me visibly and verbarly happy stimming violently for a few seconds
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Unidentified fucking thing!!!!!!!!!!!
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Marc you GOTTA tell me what your cats name is,,,,,, hes a fuckin goober,,,
glad you asked because quite a few people seem to love this beautiful fat boy.
this is Toki. he’s very fat and also extremely skittish around people who don’t live here with him. but for me he’s the squishiest cuddliest chubby boy and i love him. unfortunately i break out in hives if he drools on me. still love him though.
here’s some more wonderful pictures of this big potato for you.
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the thing about dean getting a hellhound is that it’s not a dog he wants. this isn’t that kind of story. he fed it so much blood that it turned away from the king of hell to nip at dean’s heels, and then he was forcibly pulled back to humanity with the mark still pulsing on his arm, forced to look at the death he’d been happy to take part in for months, and the hellhound won’t go away. it’s invisible, sometimes he’s not even sure if it’s following him or not, if he drove far enough to get away from it, but it always ends up back at his side, growling and shaking its shaggy coat and scratching up the floorboards with its claws.
it’s not a creature that can be transformed by love. it will always be a hulking, dangerous thing, will always have teeth and a desire to use them. it can only be understood, and treated with respect, and accepted for what it is. and it is not leaving. dean could kill it, maybe, but he’d probably end up torn to shreds if he tried. he can use it, it obeys his commands, but it can hear go better than stop. and without the glasses, he never really knows where it is, what it’s doing, if it’s looking at him like a companion or its next meal.
dean can chain it up in the bunker’s dungeon (it will chew itself free) and scream at it to leave (it will not go) and make himself a knife to tear its guts open (that it is too smart to let him use.) but the dog’s not going anywhere. he’s stuck with it.
so. one day. eventually. he’s going to have to learn to live with it. and maybe that’s the best he can hope for, to hold out his hand and feel an unseen wet nose press against it, sniff and growl and pad away, but without biting, without taking it as a challenge.
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When I was a little kid I used to to think I didn't breathe, sleep or blink. I'm still kind of disappointed that it's not true tbh
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The way Jackson's pride wouldn't allow him to show any weakness to the Troup, so having suffered many injuries he wandered into the forest, built himself a death bed and resigned himself to die. And yet Peterson saw he was missing, and wandered into the woods to find him. The way Peterson sat with Jackson as he died, Because no one should have to die alone.
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