#(hello darling

thisnis SO UGLYY I HATE THIS but whatever ok here is your slop

@fluffy-morningstar-prince

Zootopia Damian is hazbinfied ))

Hiii))

Friend? Well that is certainly one way to put it sweetheart. We have...history. Long overdue history but why not? You can call me Auntie Roo.

Leaving isn’t the hard part. Admitting you should have left sooner is. The constant mental bargaining. The excuses. The way you keep blaming timing when the truth is you’re scared of what comes after.

Do I burn it down so we can finally hate each other and be free? Or do I leave clean so you can rewrite the story and survive it? Either way, I know my role. I’m the villain. The woman who walked away. The one who “abandoned” you. The rumors are already drafted — who she ran to, who replaced him. As if I’ve ever needed male attention to stand upright.

You promised you’d never leave. Because everyone always does. Congratulations — you kept the promise. And punished me for it. You stayed and poisoned the air. Made my body tense in my own home. Turned breathing into work. Creation into exhaustion. Love into obligation.

I warned you. From the beginning. I’m not ready for this. I will hurt you. You thought I was exaggerating. You thought love would tame it. Every time I left, every time I went to Banff, I thought you’d finally choose yourself and walk away. Instead, you stayed — and turned it into leverage. Years of it. Replayed. Reframed. Reloaded. A greatest-hits album of guilt.

When my grandma died, you didn’t hold me — you positioned yourself. You saw the fracture and moved in. You knew grief would shrink me, soften my edges, make me need. And you used it. My world collapsed and you called it timing. A few weeks later — July. Time-stamped. A week after that, you were “home.” Like nothing cracked. Like I didn’t.

I’ve said it plainly. I’m not happy. I want out. And you laugh. You dismiss. You turn my honesty into a punchline. Because the idea of another man treating me well wounds you more than watching me decay beside you. You’ve admitted it. I’m a good woman. And you’d hate for someone to love me properly.

So here I am. Sitting next to you. Watching a movie. Silent. Compliant. Knowing the most violent thing I’ve done isn’t leaving — it’s staying.

This isn’t confusion. It’s clarity I’ve been postponing. I warned you. I stayed. I tried. And none of that saved me. Love doesn’t sound like dismissal. It doesn’t feel like suffocation. It doesn’t ask me to disappear so someone else can feel secure. I’m not leaving because I failed — I’m leaving because I finally stopped betraying myself. You can keep the story where I’m the villain if it helps you sleep. I’m done surviving in a place that slowly taught me how to disappear.

We just love slutty little crop tops on boys

Two lovely customers bought the last two, so that makes us officially sold out. With all of your support, I was able to expand the palette and sell out again after that.

Now.....do we release another batch? I have pre-orders open on the site, and I would love to hear what you all think as well.

Should the minimum order quantity not be met, I regret that I will be unable to restock or bring this back another time.

Feel free to share to your makeup friends, cosplayers, vamps and Astarion fans!