sorry my hands are dirty from eating salt and vinger chips *wiping them on your cheeks* girl you are so beautiful...

my inability to communicate properly has done irreparable damage to me as a whole

bingewatching will never come close to bingereading. there is nothing like blocking out the entire Earth for ten hours to read a book in one sitting no food no water no shower no bra and emerging at the end with no idea what time it is or where you are, a dried-up prune that's sensitive to light and loud noises because you've been in your room in the dark reading by the glow of a single LED. it's like coming back after a three-month vacation in another dimension and now you have to go downstairs and make dinner. absolutely transcendental

I lied, we aren't having sex. put your clothes back on. I'm going to explain the history of american rock band my chemical romance. it all started on September 11 2001, they hit the pentag-

I believe even healthy&wholesome ships need a distinct note of fucked upness to them that does not negate the otherwise positive nature of their relationship but enriches it by giving it nuances that prevent it from becoming too saccharine. Yes, maybe their love is ultimately good for each other, but if they don't become deranged about it and willing to kill or die for it I won't care.

Same for the other way around. Even the most twisted and sick ship dynamics must have an element of unambiguous wholesomeness in the middle of all that filth. If two characters are just bad for each other I won't care unless you have them do something for one another that makes you go "that was... oddly cute".

*walks out of the homoerotic friendship covered in blood and wounds* you should see the other guy

*regular guy walks out, completely unaware anything is happening*

Die flüsternden Puppen aka there was only one bed. Actually there was a second bed but that one had a spider in it