IS THIS WHAT YOUR FUCKING JACKET IS FROM?

a parcel is set outside your bedroom door while you’re asleep. you live alone. nobody could have placed it there. confused, cautious, you open it. inside, a single jagged scrap of paper reads “bra’ad/ugarth teen romance fix-it fic, accidental magic, physical hurt/comfort, thieves guild au, background kathnan.” as soon as you unfold it and read the words, it explodes like a magician’s flashpaper.

a piece of paper labeled “bra’ad/ugarth teen romance fix-it fic” slides under your door. it turns to ash in your hands.

@definetelynotdepressed wanted this

i kinda like it so im posting it here too oUGH first time drawing Ob in a long fuckin whileeee

new chapters smiley face

Tamaharu

Artist Joodles

hey does anyone want to bleed out in my arms it has to be weird

you have to stay alive. you're going to be such a beautiful middle aged freak. young freaks will see you in the street and know that things can be okay.

the angst is here homos. go get y’all’s juice

alright my fellow crazy person @parallasso liked the post i gotta do it now he’ll theory workshop with me

been on a rlly horrible country music kick and i’ve gotta say that the temptation to revive the old-school country fated au has got me in a stranglehold. a kranglehold if you’re crass. the bayou vibes. motherfuck.

this is also why they’re so gayjts like a les miserables thing

The Bizly trope is GRIEF and a deeply internalised self-hatred.

There is either s gaping wound in their chest where a loved one was violently torn from their heart. OR a belief that they are something undeserving of love because destruction is all that they leave in their wake.

Volatile, lonely people in a world of glass that cuts deep.

have not seen kevin lately but i forgot to text his case worker back abt smthn else and it’s rlly awkward to just be like “heeeeey sorry i dropped the ball on getting back to you is this guy alive and not incarcerated still?” so like i guess i’ll just see him next week.

im gonna start a charity that will pair every “i hate small talk, tell me something deep” man with a homeless or elderly person who doesn’t often get a chance to talk with people. them mfs do not mess around. today a man told me that i had received 11 thousand blessings in the span of my lifetime without knowing my fucking name. and do you wanna know what? kevin was right. i have.