#weehhh

...

I think I'm falling in love with Fold.

HE'S MINE NOW!!! AND KIT TOO WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Speaking of gay robots having sex-

Here's a link to the uncropped, uncensored version :3c

              We are children.

            This is always what I attempted to tell myself, as the plans and decisions were made, as our intentions became clearer with each passing day, as the bodies began to pile up. Therefore every monstrous idea that escaped from our mouths, I found myself grasping at the multitudes of excuses – less that I forcefully developed for the sake of justifying what was being done. The most prevalent one, which I found myself consistently revisiting, was that we are children. Naïve. Unaware of the damage we are causing. We are aimless and afraid. And it is because of this that we are doing these horrible things.

As a method of evading the harshness of reality, children create games – stories that they can actively partake in, and identities they can embody. They are able to liberate themselves from the world that consistently demands that they grow up. These games start out small and innocent but sometimes grow, so much so that they absolutely encompass the child’s life. The game becomes their reality, and until they are forced out of it, and turned towards the correct path adjacent to fantasy, it is all they want. For a while, this concept helped reaffirm the idea that I myself was a child, one that could never truly break out of my own game because I had nobody to pull me out of it. I had no family, no guardian, no friends to help me face the world. What I received instead was another boy that was playing the same game, and his sister, who was reluctant to play and therefore fell silent.

I was encouraged to remain numb to the world, to the emotions and realities I had lost sight of, the month I was forced o see my parents and brother removed from my life. The manufacturing of the false realities was all that I had left. It was all that the man in the black suit hadn’t taken from me. Morality was not a concern of mine, it was replaced by fear. Fear that I would end up like those I once loved. And as a child, I embraced that fear as yet another excuse to further the sick plans that my only friend would push in my direction. For a while I considered myself the child and him the parent – the teacher.

My teacher’s first lesson was that, yes, we are children. And in order to win this game – in order to stop the monsters from getting us and moving on to the next level, we had to conspire against the other children – to make them lose.

I did not realize how literal this game was becoming until we sacrificed our first child to the man in the suit.