fucking dinosaurs got this
people like warhammer 40000 because it has a big number on the end. that’s the only reason
Shit, you got me
Oh damn, guess I’ve been found out.
The thing that sucks about mental illness is that if you aren’t depressed enough, suicidal enough, bad enough, nobody cares. Nobody cares until you reach their standard, and that standard is when your problem is bad enough to effect them
The amount of people who can relate to this makes me equally incredibly sad and immensely angry
Everyone who suffers from social anxiety needs a friend who will
- help them order food when it’s too scary
- walk with them through crowded places
- help them laugh it off when they make a mistake
- not get tired of answering “no, you’re not annoying, silly goose! You’re adorable and I love you” no matter how many times it’s needed
and if you’re that friend, bless u for being fab <3
this is too accurate
The mid-century home of C. Carl Jennings, Blacksmith (part 02)
photos by Darren Bradley
Percentage of Dead: Unknown.
Combat Efficiency: We are winning.
And lo did Great Horus contemplate his life and choices, for his lieutenants were all balls-to-the-wall fucking crazy, and so he searched for comfort with his brother Fulgrim, whose wise counsel had guided him through the years.
And Fulgrim had replied between snorts of warp dust, ‘I’ve found that a good fisting solves attitude issues.’
And Great Horus did not ask for advice ever again.
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