#sorry iiiii

[tesspool]

"I dont want what you have, I want to be you."

[satyricplotter]

(suggestive, slightly explicit content at the end)

Even though you’ve been expecting the visit for most of the night, the Red Hood knocking at your balcony door at 1 in the morning still catches you off guard. You scramble off the couch in a sleepy daze, book falling off your lap and cracking open on the floor. For one long second, the only thing you can think of is that whoever your last assignment was has managed to find you, that you’ve finally been too sloppy and left a trail with which to track you.

That’s your first thought. Your second thought is, of course, Barbara. But before you can reach your phone to shoot your boss a SOS, or, at the very least, an alert, a second rasp at the window panes freezes you on the spot.

“Will you open the damn door?” Red Hood’s unmistakably robotic voice grits out. “It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

You trip in your rush to open the doors, limbs loose and clumsy with relief. Hood shoulders past you with a grunt, fingers prodding at the back of his head to get at the latch of his helmet. He takes it off in a smooth motion, his hot breath forming a white cloud against the cold air of your running AC. You lock the balcony back up after him as he goes around your apartment, setting his helmet on your dinner table and shrugging out of his jacket. He means to stay apparently. You could’ve lent him an umbrella if he wanted to go back out there. Probably would’ve been best.

See, you don’t like the Red Hood much.

He invites himself over to your kitchen, opening cabinets here and there until he chances upon the dinnerware and pulls out a glass. The Gotham public infrastructure is in such state you have never once attempted to drink out of the tap, but you don’t stop him when he does. It is, technically, allowed. And he had the pitcher full of filtered water right under his nose, so. You wait impatiently as he downs two whole glasses of tap water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (there is a perfectly usable kitchen towel draped over the oven handle).

He glances over, notices you staring. The corner of his lips quirks up. “How obedient,” he mocks. He pats at his sides, pulls a folded envelope from somewhere in his body (the Bats have endless pockets, you’ve come to learn) and tosses it on the table. “There’s your file. You better be fucking thankful. Traipsed through half the city in this shit storm just to get you these.”

“Thank you, Red Hood,” you say politely, picking up the rumpled envelope and eagerly flipping through the files. “Much appreciated.”

Red Hood rolls his eyes at you, eternally put off by your insistence on following the proper channels of conduct. “Whatever. You got anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” you tell him.

You walk back to the couch with the file in hand and leave him to make himself whatever he will, already too distracted by the information within to care that you’re gonna have to make a second grocery run when he’s done with your fridge. Red Hood rummages through your cabinets, pulling out far more stuff than he should for a midnight snack. At one point, he asks if you’ve had dinner, and you respond him with an absentminded (and truthful) negative. The files he’s brought are the latest Robin’s swiped from the team’s ongoing investigation on a dicey arms exchange deal that may or may not involve three out of four of Gotham’s biggest conglomerates (sans, of course, Wayne Enterprises). It’s your job to process the info—a task too menial and too tedious for Oracle and Red Robin, respectively, to handle. Besides, Tim’s far more useful on the ground.

It must be about twenty minutes of you pouring over the pages scattered over your coffee table when the man speaks up again. “Dinner’s ready,” he says.

You look up to see him setting two plates of steaming stir fry on the table. He’s taken off his gloves, his utility belt, the domino mask and rolled up his sleeves—the whole nine yards. Only missing the apron. The food looks lovely, but of course it does. Cooking is listed as a specialty in Red Hood’s file, right along with marksmanship and hostile takeovers.

Your lips quirk up at the unexpected kindness, but you shake your head. “None for me, thanks.”

“I said,” Red Hood says, placing his gun on the table menacingly. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Well. So much for kindness. You’re about as dumb as Red Hood’s subtle, which is to say only at your benefit and very much at will, so you only sigh and push the papers aside. He watches you rise and sit, and pick up the fork, before he does the same. You eat in silence.

After a few bites, you stop being disgruntled at his coercion and grateful that he’s got something other than a protein bar in you because you were, in fact, quite hungry. That’s not something you can say—or at least not in any way which he would accept, so you just shut up and eat your meal happily. That seems to be enough for him, as he watches you finish the whole plate with a satisfied expression.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” you beam.

Even when he stands and brings the dishes over to the sink to wash, you are reluctant to leave your spot at the table. You watch him rinse and sponge the plates and pan, the knife and spoon and cutting board, and your afternoon tea mug. He washes his hands thoroughly and rinses his mouth with the dubious tap water again. A thorough, judicious man. He’s played remarkably nice this evening. You wonder if Oracle’s been pulling his ear to leave you alone.

When he finishes, he walks slowly the remainder of the narrow hallway of your kitchen back to the dinner table and leans against the threshold. The long line of his body catches you off guard, always so unexpectedly graceful despite his musculature, his brutality. You hold his gaze serenely, trying not to cave under his scrutiny.

This is why you don’t like the Red Hood. Every time he looks at you, he sees you wholly. As you are. Not, crucially, as you want. It has been this way since the first time he laid eyes on you—a single glance and he had taken the measure of you. No further explanation, no time to make amends. And what’s worse: he expects you to be honest. He expects you to say what he can read in your face. He doesn’t let it go when you deflect, when you coat your truths in niceties. He wants it raw and open.

You can’t play dumb with Jason Todd.

He breaks the silence first. “Were you expecting Grayson this evening?”

The non-sequitur catches you so off guard you break eye contact accidentally. What’s Nightwing got to do with anything?

“No?” You say, evidently baffled. “Nightwing’s been off-world all week. Why would he be coming around?”

He cocks his head to the side, sucks in the bit of flesh below his lower lip. "So you knew it was me who'd be coming around?"

"Obviously?" What is he going on about? He clearly doesn't believe you, either. It's childish when you stomp your foot and whine, but he always brings out the worst in you. "I'm serious, Hood. I've been waiting for you all evening. Just you."

Jason pushes off the wall and approaches, staring you down with slightly raised eyebrows. “Then, if you knew Dick wasn't coming with, what are you looking so fuckable for?”

Despite how much it bruises your pride, you cannot help but sputter. The staring is one thing, the passing brushes are another—even the stupid pulling at your pigtails like you’re both in kindergarten is… permissible. But this? Coming at you so straightforwardly when all you know how to do is circumvent and hide? Desperately, you respond to the one thing in that sentence you can make sense of: the accusation.

“I don’t like Nightwing,” you whine. Jason fixes you with a look of dry incredulity. You huff. How you despise him. He can’t even let you lie. “And I don’t dress for him either.”

“Hm.” He reaches over to pull at the neckline of your admittedly skimpy top, his knuckle brushing against your chest. “Sure.”

You bat his hand away, and stand up, but that leaves you much closer to him than you expected. Or wanted. “This is not fuckable,” you grit out. “This is… pajamas.”

Jason cranes his neck to take a close look at you, every bit as assessing as the first one had been. One of his large hands comes to play with the hem of your shorts, pushes it up just a smidge, and the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your outer thigh. Your eyelids flutter, and he has the nerve to smile.

“That’s a blatant lie, you know,” he says, dipping his head low so the words brush against your lips. “Try a little, huh?”

“This seems like a you problem, my guy,” you snap, so close you might as well be speaking into his mouth. You need to get away. You don’t.

Jason’s smug when you gasp after his hands close around your ass and bring you forward, flush against his body. The hardness in his pants trapped between you, a pressing weight just below where it should be. Should be? What are you—but Jason adjusts before you can scold yourself, lining up your crotch with his and grinding. It feels bigger this way, which is insane because it's already pretty fucking huge, and a hot flash of desire runs through you lightning-quick and just as obliterating. You slump against him, head on his shoulder.

“That’s my problem,” he murmurs against your ear. His thumbs press just under your asscheeks, playful. “You gon’ do anything about it?”

[nyxofdemons]

i know im always saying this but he is truly sooo pretty when he's being bitchy and mad

[mcybree]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how merciless scott was towards joel in limited life specifically during the session where joel was outwardly grieving jimmy in this messy violent desperate way that made him appear mad. and I’ve been thinking about scott’s own relationship towards the concept of grief, what grief “should” look like, and his tendency to act as though he is above letting his emotions consume him. and i’ve been thinking about scott stating that joel “deserves it” shortly before taking him out of the series. do we think that scott judged joel so severely for grieving jimmy in such a raw way that he killed that fucker four times to get rid of him. because of his own standards for what correct grief looks like. and how any reflection of scott’s own emotions needs to be eliminated. i personally dont think so but I think the concept goes hard as fuck anyways

[sunnydayaoe]

ouwgh sorry if this quality is shit it was recorded one handed on my phone. but anyway. ITS HIM !!!!! YAYYY! !!! YAYY!!!

all essential animations are done now :] It's just cute idle animations + CB and interactions with him that need to be completed. really exiting X] [plus, perhaps, doing some asymmetry code but I'm kinda lazy so I might not HAHA]

[ask-the-roommate-au]

*Comedy Bot wheels in.*

"A man walked into a bar and said 'ow'."

*Comedy Bot exits stage.*

Do I even need to say anything?

Do the words "you're not funny" mean anything to you guys??

[aphidclan-clangen]

so what's your process for designing characters?

Man people keep asking me how do I design characters, how do I make characters, how do you pick characters genders, etc. and I feel SO bad because I!! There is no process!! Especially with designing AphidClan characters in particular, my process is EXTREMELY wild and intuitive and spontaneous and very “just wing it first try it’ll be fine. I totally won’t hate it 3 months later ((I will and I do))”

I. I don’t know how to explain it. Like. Alder for example, I knew Lilacpaw was this kind of pinkish purple with an orange gradient, so I wanted her dad to be pinkish purple and her mom to have the orange gradient, so when it came time to design him, I jus. made him purple. and that’s all he is there isn’t any thought put into this, this is a. Random, not professional at all, “I made a quick concept sketch as my first and only attempt, he came out purple, that’s all he is, just purple” and “I got it first try” bullshit, and everything else about his design happened because. it felt right, and I never questioned that, so now hes. alder. he exists now. “how did you make him?” i don’t know but he sure as hell is here now

That’s how I make literally all of my character designs and decisions, especially since this is just a Warrior cats blog that I do as a fun “low-effort” hobby. I had a single idea of “rainbow,,,” it felt right, I never questioned it, it happened, I made a single quick sketch of concept art as prep to solidify what already existed in my brain, and now it exists, and then 4 months and 10 updates later I become deeply unhappy with the design and I try all over again lol. It’s extremely extremely intuitive for me, it’s all just feeling. I don’t really follow any professional tips or legitimate art techniques, I don’t really make concept art, half of the time the characters first appearance in a moon update or ask response is literally the first time I’ve ever drawn them, as you can tell from the Fire/Gravel kids and their extensive “gradually redesign them piece by piece over each moon until I decide I hate all of it and start over entirely” process which is NOT something I’d recommend for a webcomic or any legitimate art project you want to take seriously or professionally!! I don’t really. have a process, I just start drawing the moon update and they appear lolol

[threepoint14art]

leon!!!

[volatile-shorty]

all that you are, were, will be, might have been

Winter comes! ...And i cant draw you. ...I can't write you either. Not even to you in a letter. What can my clumsy brushstrokes say? What can my fragile words convey? How Do I Express Everything?

[angryushankas]

Sleeping Beauty - Kyman SoT AU

Before they are even born, Prince Kyle of the Elven Kingdom and Prince Eric of Kupa Keep are set to be married to unite both their kingdoms. But the day Kyle is born, he gets a visit by a very powerful wizard: Eric’s older brother Scott, who’s angry that he won’t get the crown because his father married another woman.

Scott gives Kyle a curse: whenever he gets his first kiss, he will die.

The king and queen of the Elves blame the royals of Kupa Keep because the king is Scott’s father. This reignites the flame of a centuries-old conflict, and very quickly they return to being the enemies they once were.

After trying for a long time to take away Kyle’s curse, a fairy manages to weaken it, but not remove it completely. So instead of dying, Kyle’s first kiss would put him in a deep sleep, only to be awakened by a selfless act of true love. Kyle’s parents teach him that he should never kiss anyone. Ever. Their reasons don’t seem to make sense and vary constantly, but Kyle is a well-behaved child so he does as he’s told. Because of this, he grows up afraid of intimacy, never letting himself get too close to anyone. 

Kyle and Eric know of each other, but they’ve never met. Kyle hears awful stories about Kupa Keep and their narcissistic, egotistical prince. He finds himself hating him, even though he has no proof of all the things people tell him. He just knows Kupa Keep is bad, and everyone there is, too.

By the time Kyle’s 18, he has never fallen in love. But that hasn’t stopped him from daydreaming: he still doesn’t know why he can’t kiss anyone, but he wishes he could someday marry a prince to rule with. He sings and dances with forest animals who have come to be some of his closest friends.  One day, he finds a cape and a hat with a yellow star on it on the ground next to a tree; he laughs and dresses up a raccoon so he can dance with him as if he was a prince, while birds fly around them.

That cape and hat belong to Eric, who got jumped by a couple of thieves after he infiltrated the Elven Kingdom in the search for his older brother. His father told him of Scott’s existence right before he died. Eric doesn’t know about the curse; all he knows is that Scott is much more knowledgeable than him, and now that he’s supposed to take the crown he wants to learn from him to become the most powerful king that’s ever been. 

To his surprise, he finds Kyle with his clothes, singing a silly love song. He recognizes who he is, and because he finds the situation so ridiculous, he decides to tease him and join in the singing and dancing, to Kyle’s disgust. 

They really dislike each other at first, particularly Kyle, when he sees first-hand how bigoted Eric is and how superior he thinks he is. Nevertheless, Kyle decides to help Eric on his quest because he’s in a bit of a rebellious phase and wants to get away from his parents.

Even though they start off on the wrong foot, and even though they argue and fight all the time, they can’t help being drawn to each other, discovering things they have in common, learning new magic tricks from each other and even finding themselves having deep conversations about their lives and expectations. Slowly, Kyle realizes he’s starting to fall for Eric. And Eric is falling too.

On a few occasions Eric tries leaning in, wanting to kiss Kyle, but the prince moves away and plays dumb. Eric becomes frustrated, and eventually confronts him because he knows he’s not imagining things, and he’s convinced it’s reciprocated. Kyle ends up admitting that he likes him too, but he’s afraid of getting close. Eric calms him down, lets him know that it’s okay, and Kyle decides that maybe it’s worth it.

They kiss, and it’s wonderful. Kyle’s never been happier. Eric grins, and as he caresses Kyle’s cheek with his thumb, Kyle begins to feel dizzy. Eric’s smile falters, and he starts asking what’s wrong. Suddenly, Kyle faints and doesn’t wake up again.

Eric’s heart breaks. He doesn’t know what to do. In a moment of desperation, and knowing the royals of the Elven Kingdom can’t find out he was involved, he takes Kyle’s body to a nearby village without being seen and leaves him there.

In the hopes that his brother would know what to do, he continues his search for him. When he finds him, he’s met with the realization that Scott is even more self-centered than himself. He decides to ignore this at first, and begs him to help Kyle. But Scott only laughs at him, and before Eric can even ask, he tells him about the curse. 

Eric is in shock. Things start to make sense, why he was despised by the Elven Kingdom, why Kyle didn’t want to admit his feelings, and why Scott was an outcast. Scott, who doesn’t know that the curse is actually weaker now, makes fun of Eric and tells him that he’s responsible for Kyle’s passing.

Overwhelmed by grief, Eric fights him to death and wins. Before Scott dies, he tells Eric that he can take his life and the crown, but he’ll never get his little prince back.

Even though he survived, he feels defeated. Eric blames himself for not listening to Kyle’s worries and convincing him to give in. He decides to visit the Elven Kingdom once again in disguise, so he can see Kyle one last time and say goodbye.

He finds out Kyle is in a tower and that he’s not dead, but he’s asleep and nothing will wake him up.

Eric climbs the tower at night so nobody will see him, and kneels beside Kyle’s bed. He takes Kyle’s hands in his own and starts apologizing. He tells him that he’s sorry, that it’s all his fault and he should’ve listened; that he’s never regretted anything more in his life. That he’s in love with Kyle and he wanted them to be kings together, but now that he’s not with him, he’d rather give up the crown. He doesn’t want fortune, or power, or anything if it’s not with Kyle by his side. He kisses Kyle’s lips and then lays his head on his chest, weeping. 

Suddenly, he hears a little sound coming from Kyle. He backs away only to find that Kyle has woken up. All he remembers is their kiss, and he doesn’t know where he is. Eric is still holding his hands, and now he’s crying but out of joy. He grabs Kyle’s face and starts peppering him with kisses, telling him he loves him, and asking him to marry him. He tells him he doesn’t want to be king and he’d like for Kyle to join him in a simple, quiet life. Kyle, who’s been under pressure and under surveillance his whole life, is quick to say yes and accept his embrace.

Kyle’s parents have a hard time accepting their son won’t be king, but they’re so happy that he’s alive that they eventually come to terms with it, knowing their younger son will take the crown in the future. As for Kupa Keep, Eric proposes a new leader is elected by the people instead. His mother, the queen, agrees, and soon Kenny, a well-beloved princess, is chosen to be their next ruler, and she’ll be allowed to do so without being married.

Eric and Kyle have a small wedding ceremony and move to a little cottage in the woods. They kiss every chance they get, not wanting to waste any. 

And they’ll live happily ever after.

The End.

[catwyk]

fair warning. i dont know when i'll next be able to draw anything so i might not post anything worthwhile for a little bit

[gooopy]

This is NOT fair or reasonable or anytging more than the most minor of minor gripes. BUT!!!! i see people mimicking disco elysium portrait styles and they all feel so clear.... i get that in your art you want it to make sense and be easy to see the character AND i get that you cant always have a specific persons pov in mind for whos 'viewing' the portrait. But! I feel like people sometimes put some shapes and colors behind the head and call it a day? But i feel like a lot of the look of the portraits is determined by how harry percieves the character! Everyone knows theres a halo behind kims head, but what about how less narratively important characters arent as clear sometimes? How idiot doom spirals face is smudged and broken? How we never see the coalition airship aecher so the microphone hides their face and its more like metaphorical?? Guys get silly! How would the character be percieved??? Your art is lovely but come ON it woukd be so awesome... especially if you considered the pov.......... pleas.........

[pretentiouswreckingball]

thank you for the tag @frank-lilac hope u have a wonderful day Sal <33

this or that game

coffee or tea | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative (cannot choose, don’t make me) | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology I ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens | masquerade ball or cocktail party | butterflies or honeybees (love both) | macarons or eclairs | typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather

OPEN TAG but also; @belleandsaintsebastian @starchaserwrites @static-radio-ao3 @persimminos @poetskings @blossoms-and-possums @a-fiery-fox @moongays sorry if you have already been tagged!!

[whumpshaped]

A reluctant father figure whumper seeing that whumpee was abandoned and wronged by caretaker and co so they take whumpee under their wing.

Obviously they aren’t the best parent, but for once they’re nurturing something instead of killing it. They look at the teen and understand the hurt and betrayal they’re feeling, and see themself in them. Whumper is the only one unafraid of them.

So whether it be dropping a meeting last minute because whumpee had a cold, making grilled cheeses atop hellfire, or educating whumpee on the classic old movies, whumper slowly becomes a caretaker in their own right. Sure they’re the villain, but they’re not a monster.

bonus points are available if the whumpee has destructive powers that were painfully binded/sealed away but still deemed too dangerous to keep around, and whumper has to undo the binds and actually show them how to control their magic. Even if it’s for evil purposes, it’s the most effort someone has made to teach them.

im def not gonna be able to do this one, its way out of my comfort zone. but its a good prompt and i know MANY ppl go feral for it, so im putting it out there if anyone wants to write it :)

[bunnidid-reviews]

is it frowned upon to wish that one could dissociate or have an alter take over in moments that are awful and stressful? genuine question

Hmmm, this blog is really more intended on reviewing and sharing media about complex dissociative disorders, or could easily be related to CDDs. Certainly not an advice blog for this or anything else > < I think any more general questions about DID can be forwarded to @sundropglass (main blog) if at all, just to stay on topic here.

But since you asked, I may as well share my perspective a little bit. I urge you to read it all.

Of course it's something anyone would want. Shut off and let the stress be taken care of for someone else? go off to fairyland a bit? It's actually an extremely sophisticated way of functioning in the midst of trauma; tuck it away, get through the thing that you might otherwise feel like you're dying from.

But where does that stress go?

Say that you had a very stressful day. Maybe one thing after another kept going wrong. And all day, there was absolutely nothing you could do because you had to carry on with a smile on your face and act like everything's fine, while more dismays pile on top of you. Maybe on top of that, you end up having an argument with a loved one and now you have social anxiety and no sense of safety or relief.

This is not out of the norm. People live very stressful lives all the time. It builds up though, all that stress is piled into your immune system if you don't have any release.(Expressing emotions in a healthy manner) It comes out in the ways that maybe you get ill, or spend all day in the bathroom, or get a migraine. This is what we call the body keeping the score (a book I should read tbh). What the mind doesnt handle(dissociates from), the body will.

This is what people with CDDs regularly go through. Trauma = stress that's beyond your range of coping. Chronic trauma means chronic stress, just stored away in pockets upon pockets where its never dealt with until much later in life. This is why I don't think I know a single system who doesn't have some sort of chronic health issues. The initial trauma may not have killed them, but maybe the health issues that come from all this chronic stress might just finish the job.

This isn't even addressing what the disorder implies mentally.

Look up the symptoms of PTSD, look into personality disorders, attachment disorders, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation. Any trauma-based symptoms could come with a CDD, because there's nearly nothing special at all about DID or OSDD. They're not sectioned off 'incredible' disorders as much as media or people on the internet will imply. We are normal people who have been hurt. A lot.

We have this disorder because no one came to save us, so we had to turn to ourselves, sometimes at an extremely young age. There's no measuring the amount of hurt it takes for a young child to feel this alone.

Going off this ask alone, but because you wish you could dissociate to such the intensity as you're suggesting, tells me that you haven't actually. Daydreaming or spacing out is a very minor case of dissociation, but the level at which you're having alters would imply that you're hoping to dissociate much further than you actually think you want. Do you not want to recognize your own spouse, or be completely unable to be present in the best moments of your life? This doesn't shut off when you're happy again.

Say fine fine fine, yes yes yes to all of this, you could deal, because at least you'd be another person who would bear the responsibility for you.

I hate to tell you this, but that's not how alters work. They are, at the end of the day, still part of you. They don't magically whisk away all this stress they face, they'd still hold onto it, be strongly effected by it, and you're a lot more likely to have the same stress come back over and over again and go unprocessed because of the fragmentation involved.

If it's to ease off some of the responsibility of being yourself, then.. Well that's not what happens with DID either. Those of us with a CDD tend to feel overly responsible for everything around us, actually. It's not the escape you're hoping for.

In a short answer: Yes it is very believable to want this disorder, to want alters. That's understandable even!

But I'm also going to say this is frowned upon. There is a LOT more to these disorders than some spacing out and some cool characters. I hope you can understand a little more why this mentality is frowned upon; no one who has it actually wants it when it comes down to it

BUT i HAVE GOOD NEWS FOR YOU ANON!! Please listen

It's okay to want to be someone else to get through the stress. It's even okay to turn off your brain and space out. These are natural human things. Just.. They don't have to be a disorder. There are some recommendations for coping that aren't hoping to have a CDD, but might suit you if you struggle with this:

Try to analyze your life and see what it is that's causing you so much stress that it makes you want to not exist in such a way. If you're in a bad environment that you can't change, there are still little things you can do to make it better for yourself

Are there things you CAN change? Maybe you can look into getting professional help or finding a new job, or even so much as regularly tidying up the space you're in

Look up coping mechinisms and grounding techniques

Take breaks and let yourself really unwind. Read a book or go outside and look at clouds or something until you feel calm. I promise this feels way better than dissociation

Fun Coping Tools That Feel Like What You Want Out Of Dee Eye Dee:

create a story in your head. If you come up with a world all your own to explore, it feels like having an inner world

Create original characters you can "be". By this I mean be imaginative like when we were all kids. >>Here's a really cool version of what adults can do if 'playing pretend' seems too childish for you<<

Have some staring out a window time. Just let your mind go for a bit

None of this has to be disordered to be helpful, and have nearly the same effect that you're hoping for.

If you are at a point where you want to not exist for suicidal reasons, I really urge you to get some help. There's always someone who wants you to be around, even if thats some time in the future.

[jennicatzies]

Powerless/disconnected Narrator. For compensation.

extra under the cut

Gives him a big big hug uehuheuh

post parable/disconnected au. Holds gently. hes domestic. Perhaps.

Anyways

Guys hes reading good omens he

was that supposed to be a followup insult