Dicks Out Friday

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I have decided to make a truce with my evil aunt, uncle, and evil baby cousin. I also plan to make sure my whole family is Non Binary by the time I leave

UHHHHHH UMMMM UHHHHH strangle macock in a cowboy hat. (the sniper on my position turns his safety off.)

WAKE UP GAY PEOPLE AND BY GAY PEOPLE I MEAN BIGGAYHIMBO STANS

and a very pleasant hello to the scythebelts enjoyers.

hey so i have a new fic coming (gimmie a month) but in the meantime heres images of my childhood bedroom

i took some of them when i was trying to be happy there and i took some of them when we were trying to run away. i think about the second to last picture often. the sign above it said things worth believing in. i had been trying to fill it for months. i never got the chance to finish it.

every time i thought of something, if i stopped to think about it through goggles that acknowledged how vast and wicked the world could be, in that way you are overwhelmed by evil when you’re little, it never seemed worthy of putting faith in. i only ever managed to add to it when i was blind with happiness, and that came rather irregularly. i always felt guilty about it later; how dare you find bliss in pretty boys and sweets and silly indulgent giggles. i still feel that way sometimes.

i try and find bliss in it anyway now. i think to the voice in my head, “you’re just a child. there’s no sin in happiness. there’s no sin in happiness. tonight you will nick yourself while cooking. tomorrow you will spill a drink. those aren’t sins, either. they’re just reasons to find your bliss now.”

and then the voice says back, “you’re being very silly.” and i think “i can hear you trying not to laugh. it’s beautiful. you’re so beautiful. happiness isn’t a sin.”

the sign was hidden in the corner, with my hope chest and my closet. it was six pages of white construction paper. i never filled up more than 1/8th of a single sheet. i looked at it every night. the first few days, when it was empty, i’d stare at it till i fell asleep kneeling on the floor. my knees would wake me up with stabs of pain, and it felt like penance for being alive. i can’t ever convey how wonderful first putting a marker to that paper felt; the turquoise ink spreading fat, welcome.

i went to sleep in my own bed that night and i woke up the next morning and wondered if the world was really as bad as it felt; and i decided it couldn’t be all that bad. i forgot the decision quickly. for the seventeen minutes i held it, i felt peace.

fucking unbelievable that my destiel election meme somnet didn’t save us from damnation. my father (shakespeare) will hear about this.

when you cast abortion the fetus has to do a dex saving throw

rip velrisa grayrock you wouldve loved alt fashion

br’aad vengolor is a manic pixie dream girl in the sense that i think if he had prolonged exposure to any particularly evil character who did not want to kill him he could probably fix them.

i love writing fanfic and making the characters do whackamole silly ass shit that is at least 20 tiers of separation from the plot if they’re even in the same universe. it’s like playing with barbie dolls because all the plots are deep and elaborate and involve struggles of oppression and violence and i solve every problem by making my two favorite ken dolls match each other’s freak narsty style.

I miss fated so much, Sylnan was my baby girl and now shes gone :(

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