Back At It Again, Here's Mr Trauma Mc Daddy Issues

As the kingdom’s best archer, you were cursed so your arrows would never hit again. But you just started shooting other things—rocks, sticks, shoes—and somehow, it works even better. Folks call you "The Arrowless Archer."

A skeleton warrior lumbers toward the town gates, unarmed, holding a wooden sign: “I come in peace. Need a necromancer to take a look at my friend.” Behind him, a second skeleton is missing a head and trying very hard to keep up.

in another life, i would’ve really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you

.

i haven't been very active here, so i'm gonna try to upload all my recent works to fix that! i'm currently in my jayvik era so i have a lot of them to share

Thirty love letters? That’s...wow. Whoever they’re for must’ve lit up something rare in you. Kinda makes me wonder what it’d be like to be written about like that

I didn’t write them because I was full of love. I wrote them because I was starving for it. Because I kept trying to turn pain into poetry and it still tasted like blood in the end.

Each letter is a small funeral, a small place to bury a dream that never got to live. I wrote to hands that never reached back. To eyes that never looked at me like I mattered, to ghosts that haunt the shape of love but never stay long enough to be real.

I wrote them because no one told me how quiet heartbreak could be, how it doesn’t always scream, how sometimes it just sits next to you like a tired friend and watches you rot from the inside out. They were just things I needed to say before they drowned me.

Things like:

I miss you even though there was never a you.

I love you even though no one ever stayed long enough to be loved.

Don’t go even though they already did.

I wrote thirty love letters and someday, someone will find them and pretend they were about them but I’ll know the truth.

They were for the hollowness, for the version of me that begged for someone to stay and learned that no one does.

How did people describe the taste of cilantro before modern soap was invented? Or did the cilantro-tastes-like-soap gene not exist then? (Writing a Socrates x Plato fluff fic)

im sorry youre writing what now

How often have I sat in the dim glow of evening and thought, Why must it be this way?

Why must a man suffer simply for being alive? Why must the heart, once open, be beaten down until it is afraid to feel at all?

I have no answers.

No one does.

Still, I wake. Still, I breathe.

Because despite everything, the heart insists on beating, even when the soul has long since grown tired.

helping bro with his tie every morning, hashtag just bro things

(+ ref i used)

my first attempt at atla fanart

all timelines or whatever

Paint the town blue Riots all around you