kewpikayo

[kewpikayo]

Sorry Mr. King of Hell, Alastor hails from the land of stubborn, violent psychopaths 😔

(what it do my fellow americans)

[kewpikayo]

The Hazbin Gang playing the board game After Life:

You, smirking as you draw the career card, 'radio host': Y'all better watch out because there's a new radio demon in Hell!

Alastor: Switch cards with me immediately!

You, mimicking Alastor's voice: Would you like to make a deal with me, you unfortunate sinner?

Alastor: *radio static intensifies*

[kewpikayo]

Lucifer Angst week 2025

Day 2: Outcast/ Failure:

Triggers: Lucifer's thoughts are dark, thoughts of worthlessness, being a failure. Slight suicidal ideation, but no attempt.

Chapters: 1 (here)

Melancholia: Day 2: Tuesday:

Why was just existing so troublesome?

Why did waking up, let alone breathing, have to take such enormous effort?

Lucifer’s lungs nearly collapsed in on themselves with the force of the exhale that left him. His body decompressed underneath his warm duvet. His joints screamed and ached with each stretch he attempted, mixing with the miserable song of his dirty sheets every moment he moved. He had laid dormant for longer than needed, for days on end, and now he was paying for it.

 Everything hurt.

At least the ever elusive call of  sleep finally decided to pay him a visit, sneaking into his previous tearful stupor to knock him out cold. When he awoke, everything in his body felt as if he had several elephants sleeping on top of him, the weight increasing with every stretch, every breath, every blink.

How long has he been out? He couldn’t tell. The curtains in front of his grand stained glass windows were drawn, covering his chambers in darkness. Dust lingered in the air to the point if he breathed in deeper than what he allowed, he would sneeze. He knew that with greater assurance his bones would plead with him to cease from moving with increased gusto.

A lazy snap of his fingers, once he was able to wrestle them from underneath the warmth of his body, was enough to summon a decent amount of light. Good. Step one of too many was complete.

With a groan that felt like the rest of his throat was being ripped out in its journey out of him, he pulled the sheets off of his person. Lucifer fought to sit up, his torso much too heavy for his usual posture. He needed the assistance of his pillow to support the added weight of his sadness.

Everything still hurt. But at least he was up. 

Yes. So far, so good. He was breathing, however undesired.  His head slumped over as he looked into his lap, his bones and muscles unable to cope nor were they willing to cooperate with him. He sighed before glancing at the duck alarm clock he never set anymore. The time read 3pm.

The  majority of his day had been wasted; and the rest of it seemed too insurmountable to continue. Still… He had some energy, at least enough to sit up and breathe. That was a win, however small.

Still everything felt heavy. His mind was still swaddled with broken hopes, grief, and too grand of ideas his body would not perform. Perhaps he would just start simple. A three step process. His fatigued brain lazily conformed to the lingering creativeness that was left inside him. Inspiration was vacant, of course, but motivation was slightly on the incline.

 Hopefully his plan would work.

Get out of bed.

Go to the workshop

Make a simple duck.

Ruminating his simple plan to himself, he felt the ground meet the underside of his hoofs. For once, the sensation wasn’t jarring, but resembled a towel after a needed shower. It was a welcome reminder that strength, however pitiful and sparse, still resided within him. 

With hesitant encouragement, he lifted himself from his mattress and onto incredibly shaky legs. It was to be expected. He hadn’t gotten out of bed in five days. Shame had shackled him in place most days, the fear to venture into any other part of his palace too great. All he would receive would be reminders of who wasn’t with him anymore, every room a lingering regret.

No, he would stick with his tiny plan. Even if his stomach pleaded with him for sustenance; for something to ensure this rare energy of his was fully lived. He would stick with his original plan. He feared amending any part of it would confine him to his bed once again, daunted, shackled, by yet another thing expected of him. 

For the time being, his brain was actually inhabitable. It was playing nice. He wouldn’t provoke needless cruelties today. 

No. Today he was going to make a duck. Just one duck. Plain and simple.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything was ready. 

Lucifer, once he was functioning enough to potentially be productive, had gathered the needed supplies. Scanning his desk, his mind went through its normal check list. The fog his brain was under was not helping things.

‘Paint…check…Glue? Do I have glue? Uhmmm…yesss. It's right in front of you. Duh. Yeah…check…Um let’s see…what else…’

Dazed, Lucifer brought a hand to his chin pensively. He ignored how his wedding ring was still tightly bound to his ring finger.

Instantly, with a snap, he perked up as much as was physically able for him in the moment.

“Paintbrushes! Ya can’t paint ducks without paintbrushes, ya silly goose…That’s…That’s just plain stupid..ha..haha…”

Lucifer shook his head until it proved too much for him. However dizzy, he surprisingly had enough energy to hum to himself as he rummaged through random drawers.

“Well..I mean I could always finger paint. Haven’t tried that in a while…”

Keeping his positive facade, he willed himself not to look at the family picture that hung directly overhead. The minute he looked at the all too familiar faces that were featured, he knew he would want to hide again. He couldn’t do that again. He had a purpose for himself that evening, after all. A goal. For once his brain was giving him the opportunity to orchestrate it with an abundance of grace. It was a rare chance he wouldn’t ruin.

A giggle left him as his hands continued their search. He sounded as if he was drunk with despair, or slightly confused. Dazed, even. He wasn’t quite there, not entirely.

“Nahh…Not…Not today.”

His words were much more dismal than he had planned. Fortunately, he was presented with a distraction as his claws located the object of his desire. They molded to the glass jar with great zeal, memorization of how the old paint mug felt in his hands pleasing to his senses. The cup felt like home held firmly in his hands, the gentle clank of his wedding band scraping against the cup. The brushes sang inside, much like an anticipated grand welcome as they glided against the ridge of the open lid. They bent to their master’s will, too eager to perform for him.

They were too eager. Too impatient.

Before he could think, the mug collapsed to the floor from Lucifer’s fingers. Stunned, not at all predicting a new mess would be made, a growl on the border of agitation ignited in his vocal cords. He didn’t have the energy for this today. Not today. Things were going so well. They were supposed to go well.

He would leave the mess, the chaos the floor created, for later. He wasn’t going to waste the single chance to create something that wasn’t planned.

“Nothin’...Nothin’s  wrong with a little chaos… after all, the universe was made with just a spark. Relax. Just a mess…It’s just a mess…”

Smoothing a hand over his hair, he took a deep breath and waltzed over to his desk once the brushes were retrieved. He was mindful of the chips of glass that still remained. He would ignore it. Everything was fine. Everything. Was. Fine.

Another breath was feebly taken as he leaned over his desk and designated the perfect spot for all of his supplies. Order in the chaos. He needed some semblance of structure otherwise his world would collapse in on itself. He was still actively ignoring the mess he left behind. 

Another breath was followed by an eye twitch. Lucifer could hear the air conditioner humming loudly in the opposite corner of  the room. The lights above him were too bright. He had to close his eyes otherwise he swore he would see the sounds. Something was off…

Everything was supposed to be fine. How could one measly mistake set him off on the path to destruction? It wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let it. This was his house. He was in charge. His mind, nor its unsavory games, wouldn’t get in his way. Not again.

He couldn’t bear it again…

Choosing his favorite brush, a simple brush used for intricate details, he decided it would be best to finish an already premade design. That was more feasible than starting from scratch, at least. Even he couldn’t mess that up.

Yet, the seconds passed by, and the tremble in his fingertips sang the songs his mind had been screaming to him for centuries.

‘Nothing you make is worth it…’

Everything. Was. fine.

‘Everything you create is shit. Worthless. Pathetic!’

He wished his mind would shut up. He wanted to scratch the inside of his eyes, of his skull, if it meant that he wouldn’t have to suffer from the horrors his mind subjected him to every day. His brain was playing nice for once, but it was only deceit. What happened? Why couldn’t he be happy?

Why wasn’t he allowed to be happy?

‘Everything you do causes problems. Don’t you see, you’re pathetic. A stain on Father’s name…’

Determined to not give his dark ponderings the time of day, Lucifer stared down at the duck in the making in his hands, his thumb gently cradling the creature with professional effort. His other hand held the tool for its future, the weapon behind all the magnificent creations he had made before.

He couldn’t think of what to make. He didn’t have any inspiration. He didn’t have a clue. Not a single clue. There was not even a functional thought behind those red eyes other than what his brain relentlessly taunted. His hand shook with the efforts of keeping his composure. His lip trembled under his bite.

‘You should just give up. Give up. Your existence isn’t worth it, not if you continue to create mistakes others just have to clean up for you. You’re insufferable. You’ve damned everyone. Everyone you loved, everyone you know, and everyone you don’t. You are the reason everyone is here. You’re the reason they are all stuck down here….’

Lucifer gritted his teeth, his mental fortitude crumbling around him. The anguish and self hatred was unbearable.

“No…I…I can create something…better…Just…Just you wait and see-”

‘Why would anyone waste a single second more on you? You make a mess of things…’

“N-no…Thats not true…”

‘You’re lying to yourself. You are a failure. You ruin everything you touch!’

The tears flooded Lucifer’s workdesk one by one, his head lowering until his forehead met its supportive wooden surface. 

“....Stop…”

 ‘Just give up. Just give it all up. It’ll be better for everyone that way…’

“Shut up….Shut. Up.”

‘You are a failure. You always have been, and you always will be. Once you admit it, you’ll feel better. Lying to yourself won’t help you. You are a failure, through and through-’

Mighty fists came down with the force of lightning onto lucifer’s work desk. Blind rage, Fury wrapped in a veil of pain, threatened to split his desk asunder. 

“SHUT UP….SHUT THE FUCK UP….OKAY?! Gah, I...I CAN’T take this today…I can’t, I can’t….I just can’t….Please…Please just…Stop….”

Lucifer knew his mind told him the truth, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He was having somewhat of a decent day and he did not need this… He knew he was a failure. He knew he had one specific job, one that was crafted to him when the birth of the universe came into being. It was a job he was specifically made for, and he couldn’t even do that right. His skills were forfeit for good as soon as he gifted that damn apple to eve…

Lucifer clenched his fists with enhanced bitterness. His dreams, what he meant to use to forge good in the world in the lives of man, only made things worse.

He always made things worse. He failed. That's why heaven did away with him. He failed to adhere to their ideals. He wanted to exchange them for his own, wanted to expound upon them. He wanted to make them better.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t, because he ruined every single thing his hands handled. His ideas of grandeur got in the way of heaven’s design for humanity. His creations were the fall of every living thing. He was their doom, their end.

He was heaven’s failure.

Bereft tears poured torrentially from his eyes, his face turning so his cheek was plush on his desk. He felt the sensation of cold, murky paint water running into his shirt sleeves. The stickiness of glue greeted his clothes, attuning itself into his face and skin and mixed with the continued tears as the night waged painfully on.

Amidst his tears, Lucifer failed to notice the duck he had handled with such care earlier had fallen to the floor; cracked into a state of chaotic disrepair due to his spirited rage…

[kewpikayo]

Thank you so much Vexi for tagging me! This was so fun~! Tags, but you don't have to if you don't want to: @dewdropdinosaur, @fraugwinska,@macabr3-barbi3, @minkdelovely, @melodyonthewireless, @6esiree

Consider yourself tagged if you are reading this:

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz (How Fandom Would See You If You Were A Fictional Character)

Thank you for the tag @machiavellli !

[kewpikayo]

Lucifer Angst Week 2025

January 1st-7th Day one: Loss/Alone

find on A03

Chapter: 1 (you are here)

chapter 2 can be found here

Here is my contribution to Lucifer Angst week! I'm going to attempt to do all the prompts, but some may be a little late. Life has been busy at the moment, but I do hope you enjoy what I come up with!

This is supposed to be a character study and I plan to do this in a small mini series where each chapter builds on the other. The first chapter is below.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Lucifer is very depressed in this one. Nothing too bad, but he is deep in his sadness. I will post trigger warnings with each chapter as it will get dark. Stay tuned~

Melancholia: Day 1: Monday:

What was he doing?

Why couldn’t he pull himself together?

Lucifer was confined to his bed, cocooned tightly into the grand expense of his king sized mattress. He was supplied with too much room.

The sheets on his queen’s side were cold. They had been for a long time now. Each night without her carried her scent farther and farther away from him. He clung to her pillow, deeply inhaling the remnants of her faded, absent scent.

All he could smell was himself. He clung tighter to the pillow with duck down inside, holding it plush against his cheek for comfort. 

It only hurt his heart more.

Lucifer sighed. He had lost count of how many days, months, years, she had been gone. It was hard to keep track of anything as of late. Anything that wasn’t him focusing on taking shaky, shallow inhales and exhales at a time. That simple fact took the majority of his strength most days.

His breath warmed the covers obscuring his nose, embracing the bags under his eyes in heat. His eyes watered, blinking back tears that had long since gone dry.

Lucifer was tired. It was the type of fatigue that weighed heavy on the soul. No relief was in sight, not even when paired with the comfort of his favorite blanket. 

That blanket, with the sweet pattern of a family of ducks embroidered into the plush throw, belonged to his daughter. Much like her mother, she was also missing from his home and the majority of the past several years of his eternity. Only seldom calls with vague, forced conversation were had between them now. 

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to talk to him. He didn’t even want to talk to himself. But most days that was the only company he would receive. 

His servants knew to leave him to his “work” most days, giving any special business to the sins on his behalf so he could focus on creation. It was the one thing he enjoyed, and now he couldn’t even make himself get out of bed to do so. 

He was pathetic. 

He didn’t deserve to take up space…

‘Just move. Just get up….please…please just get up…! You know you’ll feel better once you do….”

That was a lie. It was a lie he often believed, but everyday he still did so. sadly, that was the case for today. No relief was to be had for him.

 Besides, today did not feel like a “force yourself to be a normal person and hate it the whole time” type day. 

No, today seemed like a “slowly drown in your sorrow and despair until you die” type day.

Either option was exhausting to think about. Simply just trying to exist was exhausting…

No. Today was the day to rot in his too big bed, to be smothered by his too big blanket and continue to be accosted by his very sad brain.

So that’s what he did. 

Lucifer sunk further into his bedsheets, his bed holding his shape in the middle from the countless nights he would lay in the fetal position and wait for the hours to waste away. He was often consumed by numbness, and found himself in a state of not quite asleep but not quite awake. Just existing.

Like he was now.

Lucifer had not slept in five days. His eyes were screaming, blinking every few minutes with fatigue, desperate for an antidote or sweet balm for the agony his mind put him through.  Still, his body would not allow precious sleep. Sleep was too good for him, much like everything and everyone else in his existence.

Bags piled themselves under his eyes, preparing for the long graveyard shift this next night would bring. A deep, heavy sigh broke through his mouth, dreary and pitiful in its sound. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, feeling akin to a desert with rich cracks in its soil. He breathed again, his brows furrowing. The smell was foul.

When had he brushed his teeth? When had he showered? When was the last time he even had a glass of water? He couldn’t recall. All he could remember was rotting in bed for days on end.

Alone. 

Completely alone.

He was always alone. 

Another terribly sad sigh left him, brief in its escape from his lips only to be choked down once more by whatever remained of his pride. He didn’t even deserve to be sad. He did this to himself. He didn’t deserve anything.

He was a failure.

A failure who didn’t deserve to exist…

There was nothing he could do about that except pitifully hide under his blanket and duvet.   That was all he was good at. Hiding. He was a coward. He hated it, but he didn’t have the strength to disagree with himself. Not today.

Claws gripped tighter on the throw wrapped around his weak frame, resembling a hug he didn’t deserve from one he loved. From one who didn’t love him anymore. 

He lost his chance to love her.  She left him alone…

And though she was absent from his side for what felt like centuries, even longer, still she lingered. Her songs wove themselves in his head, his queen’s compelling spirit, her independent will…

If he closed his eyes he could swear he felt her embrace once more, wrapping around him tightly. Warmly. With intention, as she once did.

Once again that feeling was a lie. She was lost to him, but still she lingered…

He wished her memory would leave him alone. It was better that way. The pain her loss created ate away at him like mold clinging to decomposed fruit, encompassing what once was sweet and favored into something undesirable. 

His heart was not fit to carry her affections any longer. He knew this. He had known this for years; and still her loss was felt with even greater dismay as the hours rolled by. 

His hope for her return dwindled with each day that passed. His brain knew what his heart could not; Still, his heart sang her name ceaselessly. He desperately sought after her love, her embrace, her warmth just one more time…

She was lost to him. He knew this, but his brain would not forget her. He couldn’t. With her, they created the one thing he cherished above all else. How could he forget his first love? The one who brought him such a wonderful gift, a miracle, to begin with?

He didn’t deserve even the memory of her love. He didn’t deserve her…

Fingertips embraced wood lazily, but with compulsion. A sense of urgency melted into his numb hands as the drawer to his nightstand feebly slid open. Searching, desperately searching, his languid palms danced into the contents of the drawer. 

A yawn worthy of a thousand years of rest carried its tune in silence as Lucifer’s fingers graced against something of all too familiar design. Delicately, his claws wove themselves around their prize, cushioning the comforting weight of the glass bottle into the depths of his palm. A sigh of relief escaped him. It was briefly lived.

Drawing his hand close, the object that held the culmination, the essence, of his wife’s memory felt safe in his hands. He laid the miniature bottle of perfume under his cheek, the crystalline surface cool and soothing to his face.

His heart ached. He dreaded the thought of using even a drop. It would be wasted on him, the scent lingering on his sheets for longer than he could bare. 

He didn’t deserve comfort. Oh but he wanted it. Tremendously.

Wordlessly, absentmindedly, the fallen angel snapped open the cap of his queen’s perfume. His hands fumbled with the cap until it, too, escaped him; falling onto the floor beside his bed. It didn’t matter. As long as he had the glass bottle he would be fine. He would hold on.

Delicate touches from his fingertips smoothed over the faded tag attached to the perfume,  ghosting over the bottle that was embossed permanently with her unforgettable name. His claws traced over every letter, his lips parting with their sacred spelling.

“...Lilith…”

Oh, how he clung to the sound of her title, even on its treacherous voyage out of him. He sighed and closed his burning eyes.

 He didn’t deserve to even remember her, to remember her name, to even utter its splendor. His lips had defiled her name, the last piece of her he even had. 

Tentatively, he brought the bottle closer with shaking hands. He just needed her scent. Just one puff would take care of him, to carry him through this terribly dark day. It was all he needed.

Just. One. Sniff. 

Still, he hesitated, wasting the seconds away. With each sample he took she left him. She would leave him permanently if he wasn’t careful…

Just one, tiny spray would be enough.

Taking in as deep a breath as he could, the pads of his fingertips plunged down on the atomizer. He awaited the sweet relief he was promised.

Yet again, he was denied.

His eyes shot open, feeling only the pitiful puff of air greet him. No fragrance was to be had. He was denied the one thing that was promised to him.

“....No….”

Pulling the bottle away from his face to examine, he reached deep into the resuvours of his strength to push himself off of his mattress to cradle the last hope of comfort he had in his claws.

“.....No…No no no….Please don’t be gone….P-Please don’t  tell me that there’s….Th-there’s none left?!”

His voice was foreign in pitch, gravelly from lack of use. Fatigued curses croaked out of him as he gripped tighter on the nozzle, begging for more fragrance to escape into the air for him. None was to be had. The scent had long since gone dry, ever since his last use some odd weeks ago. He had forgotten to replace it.

Ah, but it was something he could never replace. This was once hers, precious in fragrance as much as her presence was.

“Ha….haha….O-of course there’s nothing left… Why…Why would there be….she’s gone…Sh-she’s gone….”

With one spray, he lost what remained of his wife.. Just as with one bite, humanity lost its innocence long ago…

Once again, it was all his fault.

“She’s gone…..And she…She isn’t coming back…Never…Not for me…”

His energy spent in his panic, his body collapsed back onto the mattress. The perfume was still delicately cradled in his arms.

A final attempt was made, desperation deeply rooted in his actions, as he opened the lid and plunged his nose inside.

She was there…She was still there…She was safe in his arms for a final time. A laugh on the border of elated and mournful broke from its confines deep in his chest. He had found her…

He had her for one more moment….She wasn’t lost…not yet…Not yet…

Tears poured down his face, his mind still deluded with falsehoods. His heart knew she wasn’t back. The bottle in his hands was nothing but pretense, the culmination of  his sanity traded for comfort. 

Still, his heart ached. He was beyond troubled, the stimuli from the perfume and the melancholy supplied from his serotonin deficient brain only assisting in his torture. 

His eyes burned, fat tears digging ditches, trenches, into the apples on his once pristine cheeks. Silently they continued their work, explaining his agony, desolation, when all of his words would fall short.

All he could do was be resigned to the depths of his duvet, hiding his shame as he continuously breathed in his sorrow with every devastated sob…

[kewpikayo]

I can bring some nice fresh brownies and a bunch of warm fluffy blankets 🥹

@minkdelovely @ritualofcirice @castawayinhxll @dewdropdinosaur

Moot Sleepover Starting Now

@a-fucking-tornado

@silentlydying

@fairyb0ii

@tori-spring12

@survivingmyownlife

@spir4nts-lun4r

@back-totheoldhouse

@aloserwholikesheartstopper

@moomoomwahaha

@xoxonxo

[kewpikayo]

[kewpikayo]

GAHHHH OH MY GOSH THIS IS GORGEOUS 🥹🫠😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

“Dancing, kissing, the kitchen

Makes me forget, I forgive him”

I’ve been losing my MIIIIIND at the SOS Deluxe the past couple of days. SZA herself grabbed me by the neck and put me in front of my ipad until I had drawn this guys

[kewpikayo]

After the battle

[kewpikayo]

“Tickling the ivories ‘til they bleed…”

This is Alastor and Gem from @fraugwinska's fic “Method to Madness” which is so incredibly good! Like, I highly recommend it if you haven’t read it already!

I really had a lot of fun with this one, the fur and hair on both were especially fun to do. I hope you enjoy this one Frau. Thank you so very much for creating my banner for the Hooked on Hazbin event. I know I’m a bit late in getting this to you, but I do hope this brightens your day and makes you smile!

[kewpikayo]

I think that fits me hehe. I love the color orange.

Tags: @macabr3-barbi3 @minkdelovely @primsgirl89 @xalygatorx @fraugwinska and anyone else who would like to do this hehe

I'm moss (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ what's yours?

I laughed a bit at the barefoot on grass, it's itching me to get somewhere to just walk like that ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

@sparrowfleet @spirit-of-the-hollow @negatywka @lobobathory @ohdeerfully

[kewpikayo]

“I will steal your heart~ It’s mine now…” ^^

Tags, but no pressure: @dewdropdinosaur @fraugwinska @ritualofcirice @jurijyuu @primsgirl89 @castawayinhxll @minkdelovely @chefskjssart @tarokitsu

Let’s make a cast of Villains!

All you need to do is this picrew, and tag some people.

Here’s mine. An evil AI version of me.

Tags: @godofautism @dinosaurguts @mayhem-moth and anyone else who wants to join.

[kewpikayo]

He’s EVIL, having EVIL thoughts all the time! 👹

[kewpikayo]

Alastor Redrawwww

[kewpikayo]

Thanks so much for the tag @redvexillum~!

0-0 How ominous...I would hope he'd be over for tea and a nice chat; but its like midnight here... So he'd probably be here to unalive me... Welp. I've lived a good life XD

Tags, but no pressure: @fraugwinska @macabr3-barbi3 @dewdropdinosaur @xalygatorx @jurijyuu and anyone else who would have fun participating~

Tag game time baby

Ok here are the rules:

1: Go to Character Headcanon Generator

2: Type the name of your current #1 kin character/comfort character

3: Press the "Create Headcanon" button

4: Take a screenshot of the headcanon that it generated and post it in your reblog

5: Tag some moots

Here I'll go first :3

-

Tags:

@drizzlemoth @lunozapp @hey-imma-fangirl @awakentrashpanda @aintan0driscollnomore @mylivingend @orangeleftyart @flower--ghoul @selora-florients @n-atsu @ol1verdrawsyt @skullgirlrawr @stitcheds-sewing-box @carnationstars @dat1jamesandthegiantpeach @worldsbiggestnerd101 @fanoffandoms23 @foulfictkin @chaosbug-png @sillyjesters @datotota @catinabeartrap

[kewpikayo]

I know Alastor is… well, Alastor, but I feel like a relationship with him could be so wholesome. He probably wouldn’t be so overtly affectionate, but when he finds himself overwhelmed by his love for you, he will grab your chin and delicately trace the outline of your jaw with his thumb, press his forehead against yours, or give you eskimo kisses.

[kewpikayo]

Ooooh this sounds fun!

Um let’s see… mine are:

1) I have 7 siblings

2) I have a college degree

3) I’m distantly related to Marilyn Monroe.

I tag: @ritualofcirice @bapple117 @primsgirl89 @minkdelovely @jurijyuu @dewdropdinosaur and anyone else who would love to do this hehe.

Two truths and one lie! Tag someone else to play!

1. I have a fake eye

2. I have a calico cat

3. I have killed 47 people!

@yippe3allthedamnnamesrtaken @number-2-hero-hawks