What The Fuck Are They Feeding The Falin And Marcille Fan Artists. Why Are They Painting The Sistine

somehow we exist, in the folds, and now we’ll kiss.

a bunch of byleths!

muscle memory

Last night I had a dream where I was filling up my water bottle at a drinking fountain and someone ran over and started to drink out of my water bottle as it was filling up and I got so mad I woke up

Jesus christ, I wish to just one day be this pinnacle of wit, horniness, and sacrilege.

the most #UselessLesbian thing i have ever done was when i was trying to figure out if this girl liked me or not, just constantly arguing with myself about it, and after a couple, uh, months, of this, i was like, “god i wish i could just like… go to court and lay out all this evidence and have a couple lawyers argue over the TRUE MEANING of her text messages, and then a judge tells me if she likes me or not.” and then the proverbial lightbulb went off over my proverbial head, and i dug into my mock trial folder from high school and found the trial guidelines and i wrote out an entire trial transcript featuring a plaintiff (me), my attorney (my wildest hopes and dreams), a defense attorney (my worst fears and insecurities), and a judge (my desperate attempt at rationality). the final product was several thousand words long. it clarified nothing. at any point in this process did it occur to me to ask her how she felt about me? absolutely not. did i ever stop and think, “hey, maybe i should tell her that i like her?” absolutely not. that’s for people who take risks and i don’t take risks i take myself to court in my own head.

Last Will by Nikolay Kurganov

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