#I'm pissed off alright

[most-na-krzywej]

Okay, but how can I bring hope and positively change the world when the people I liked do shit like this? Now I don't want to be a kind person, I want to beat the living crap out of him.

And, well, Gaiman probably won't see it, but come on, man, think about your actions and your life. Are you fucking crazy, do you have the intelligence and human dignity to do such thing? Get up to speed and fucking bang your head against the wall and maybe you'll start thinking, you fucking idiot. What the fuck were you thinking? At what point did you think this was even a good idea? Have you even fucking thought? You made us believe you were a good fucking person and not trash in human skin, now what? Find god in your heart or something, god damn it. And for fuck's sake, you better have a good explanation since you haven't spoken yet, or at least face the consequences for your fucked up actions.

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he��d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[spotaus]

Hey i am back with another thought.

Remember how ccino was unamused with nightmare bringing a serial killer home as possible knight?

Inagine his annoyance when it HAPPENS AGAIN with dust!

And dust needs like 4 magic dampers.

Nightmare just standing there: i found another possible knight

Ccino staring at the criminal: ... i will go prepare a room *leaves*

And then.

Later!

Ccino walks out to meet nightmare and stops because he sees a giant skeleton behind nightmare with a hole in his skull!

Ccino: ...

Nightmare who can feel that ccino is THIS close to snapping: ... this one isnt a criminal.

Ccino takes a deep breath. Nods. And leaves. He does not like this pattern.

And then cross gets caught

Killer: lmao. Wonder why nightmare is leaving him in the jailcell instead of just punishment

Dust and horror shooting each other knowing looks.

ccink just leaves because APPARENTLY he needs to prepare ANOTHER room now >:(

Some kids bring back rocks or plants or insects or wounded animals..

Nightmare brings back criminals. (Which is even funnier because nightmare also hires wrongly judged people as his servants).

No wonder the cats swarm the castle. It is already full of strays.

Hi I *know* you have another ask in my inbox that I need to address (because I love it to death and need to make a coherent answer that isn't just me key-smashing-) but I saw this one fresh off the send and I need to respond because this one !!!!! Is so silly but so true!!!

Yeah, Ccino is a very kind and loving soul but like. In the way parents can still get annoyed w/ their kids, this is Ccino's peev. Every single time Nightmare comes back with a criminal Ccino has to take a deep breath abd count to 5 before he can respond in any proper way. And he *knows* Night knows how worried abd frustrated he his! Because!! Of all the people to bring in when you're paranoid of getting murdered? The serial killers???

Dude I also love the thought that Dust had a couple dampeners so he couldn't harm anyone or run off, and the longer he behaves the more Night takes off. (And Night *really* wants to see Dust at his full power, but he can't risk being hasty-)

Horror, who arguably looks the most like a criminal, actually got into a heated argument with a friend as a teenager and ended up with a huge skull wound. He's actually a sweetheart! (<- to his family at least-) Ccino is just happy it's not another criminal frfr.

And then Cross.

The visual that Killer has yet to pick up on the signs of Night preparing to collect another knight is SO silly but also SO him. He's blind-sided when he's put in charge of Dust to train him for knighthood. He's blindsided when Horror is adopted into the Knights. He's also blindsided when Nightmare firmly tells everyone that Cross will be helping them. 🙏 (and then he becomes a Knight)

Poor Ccino putting up with these guys... <3

Oh yeah, stray city! Nightmare (if he did have godlike powers) definitely gives off a domain of safety for misfits + survivors. Like, Reaper's kingdom has a great reputation but. Nightmare is very specifically keen on helping people and taking care of them (even as they take care of him). So the cats, the wrongly-accused criminals, and the *rightly*-accused criminals who he thinks can change are all his now :] He attracts them like a beacon lol!

[thunderwetter]

Hi, I survived

[rad-roche]

hrm! comic logistical problem. am taking advice

dead man talking/dead woman walking is written in third person limited. a good way to picture it is there's a camera, but it's always pointed from behind nick's shoulder, facing out to the world. it's the conceit of the prose style i'm going for. the narrator is nick, in that it's written how he speaks and in his voicing, but not in that there's no 'i', 'me', 'my'. i did that because i thought it would be cute, you know. the whole point of the story is that he is and isn't nick valentine, so i baked it into the writing. there's an alienation in that

the thing is, i think that effect works in prose, but i'm looking at the comic page and thinking. IS this reading weirdly. and if i'm thinking that at all, the answer is probably yes. but i don't know if changing it to first person narration for the purpose of this will deaden the vibe i'm going for, for no benefit because it actually reads fine. but in that trial one i did the other day, i defaulted to first person without even considering it, so i guess that's just the most natural way to do it. i'll have to change lines up to fit anyway. i think i'll end up doing a mockup of both and going with my gut

[jewishcissiekj]

EVERY DAY I GO TO THE ASAJJ VENTRESS TAG AND PEOPLE ARE ASKING HOW SHE'S ALIVE. JUST WAIT. HAVE PATIENCE. THEY'LL EXPLAIN IT (probably). SHE HASN'T APPEARED YET SO NO ONE ON TUMBLR IS GOING TO KNOW. STFU. JESUS CHRIST. YOU ARE LIKE THE 10TH PERSON THAT WEEK ASKING THIS IN THE TAG. NO ONE CAN ANSWER YOU BUT THE SHOW'S CREATORS. Ugh.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

this fandom loveesss to mischaracterize g.ladio... it's like people forget what his whole fucking dlc was about 😭

[kittlyns]

I had yet another long, strenuous day yesterday and didn't finish work until super late and then I couldn't fall asleep until well past 2am cuz I was in so much pain from standing literally all day

[lovelettered]

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[colorfuldream]

Wondering how the last 3 OTH songs sound so bad/bland when the DLC was amazing?? Tf happened here. Was the composer on break or something?

[artemismoorea03]

Life Update

Okay, so this is a long time coming. For those who follow me for my Gotham is Haunted or Monkies Aren't Alright series - or any series really - you might have noticed a large gap in posting and this is a mixture of things that hit all at once.

To start out Salem - our black cat went missing in April and we still haven't found him. I'm still holding out hope but aside from my Mom it seems like everybody else has given up on finding him.

Salem went missing on my wedding anniversary and on my birthday my spouse brought home a kitten that was found at his work that we named Ziggy. He was starving, really sick, and not doing well but by some miracle we managed to nurse him to life. A mixture of waking up every couple of hours to give him formula, helping him to go the bathroom, and restarting his breathing a handful of times. Ziggy is now five months old and is thriving to the point that our vet has been surprised by how far he's come and that he's the same cat.

Then, in September I went on a hellish camping trip. One that basically made me loose all hope that I will ever be able to heal my relationship with my father and strained my relationship with my mother even more. Between panic attacks, autism melt downs, being so cold I was physically sick more than once then got yelled at for being 'dramatic', and my father telling me I was being 'too much' for being disabled how I am I just... I was done and I'm still not okay from that trip. Both emotionally and physically.

To add onto that my mom implied that she would be kicking us out of the house because my sister and her boyfriend were moving out and tried to convince me and my spouse to move into the "Mancave" of my creepy uncle which meant that we spent weeks trying to find a house on short notice just to find out that it was actually my Dad pushing my mom to kick us out so they could make more money from renting the house we're living in out to others. When mom realized that we took it seriously and was to the point of being mentally lower than I had been since fuckin high school she took back what she said and promised that unless we wanted to move out we weren't going anywhere.

All of that mixed with the fact that I have been sick for months physically, my vision and hearing getting worse, my mental state still being garbage, and hate comments on some of my work that I've had to delete or push aside has made it really hard to write. I second guess everything I write, and try writing even harder. Hell, I was nearly done with my Kid's Aren't Alright rewrite when I got ANOTHER bad comment and realized a mistake that I knew I would get more hate on and now I'm having to rewrite it all over again.

I'm working myself in circles and I'm just... I'm not okay and I'm not sure how long it'll be until I'm okay again. I'm trying to get back into writing, getting back to my roots and writing more of what I want to write and worrying less about 'canon' or haters but it's hard to write when writing isn't fun.

To my friends that I've kinda brushed off, I promise it's not you. I've gone into my shell a lot and I'm trying to break back out but it's a fight. I'm still in a dark place but I'm hanging on as best as I can with the resources I have around me. I'm not saying there will never be another update (hell, I took a break from writing Gotham is Haunted just to make this update) but I am saying that whatever the update, no matter how small or how lame... be gentle, please? A lot has happened.

And this? What I've written here - is only part of it.

[welcometoteyvat]

ok very interesting quest in hsr

[spacenintendogs]

whoever decided lawns need to be a thing i hope u rot

[vulpinesaint]

actually going to throw the hugest fit over my parents making me do dishes. i am HAPPY to do dishes on assigned nights. it's FINE. i hate it so much but i'll get it done and if i'm having constant breakdowns over it then like. idk. maybe that's another issue that you should be looking into but it doesn't mean that i'm not up for doing the dishes. but now my mom wants to have the five of us just. do the dishes on a rotation? which is FUCKED cause i have SHIT to do! the fuck happens when i have dnd? or want to go out with a friend? or have class until late? literally worst fucking idea on earth i can do the fucking dishes but i have to be PREPARED for it. for instance don't make it so every other week i'll be fucking Doing something when it's my night to do the dishes

[brainrotzora]

i think it was cute of me to set up message blips for my bodyswap comedy game with the message blips differing per character and then further slightly differing depending on who is in the body. these are the kinds of things that matter to me

[brandondoesstuff]

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