/    you  make  me  want  to  bring  back  my  hp  anon  smh

/⠀⠀>:( well now i have to my hp oc

/⠀⠀imma bully you

@mortemmorii 
            
            
            /   hi  lol

/⠀⠀heyyy

@yourmomscoolbf 
            
            
            oh.        *       he  lets  out  a  breath,       relieved  that  it  was  something  as  trivial  as  a  peace  of  lint.     embarrassment  burned  against  his  pale  cheeks;          the  job  was  seriously  no  good  for  him.         that's  not  how  normal  people  are  supposed  to  react  for  help.       will  had  never  been  necessarily  normal   but  still       —      maybe  he  needed  to  lower  his  expectations  of  himself  after  all.         he  reaches  up  and  adjust  his  glasses  before  smiling  gently  towards  the  other  male.         *       thanks,        i  didn't  even  notice    .     .     .    sorry  about  that,       i  just  don't  know   you.

*  the blonde raised an eyebrow as he observed the other's reaction to his simple request *  lint  *  he'd paused as if he were about to speak again only to reach over and carefully pull the peace of lint  *  & there you go  .  you're welcome  ,  bud  . 

@yourmomscoolbf 
            
            
            okay    .     .      *         he  blinks        —      hard   as  he  gulps,         defined  jaw   clenching   &,   unclenching   as  he  wills  his  body  to  relax.         clear  blue  eyes  darting  around  the  room  but  never  meeting  the  other  person's  eyes.        *         w-why?           what  for?

@murdersuspct 
            
            
            
            *      there's  silence  for  the  next  minute,          the  only  sounds  are  the  soft  panting  of   will.      the  only  movement  being  the  slight  shifts    &,    twitches  of  his  face  and  head.        he  mirrored  the  actions  of  someone  suffering  an  unpleasant  nightmare   &,  in  many  cases  that's  essentially  what  he  was  doing,     except  he  was    1.)     more  or  less  awake     &,    2.)    murdering  somebody   and  putting  his  mentality  through  that  stress.       he  gasp,   awakening  a  moment  later  before  clear  blue  hues  quickly  skid,      then  skid  away,     from  the  source  of  the  voice.       his  forehead  is  damp,       breathing  slightly  heavy   as  his  face  doesn't  seem  to  relax,      eyebrows  only  creasing  deeper.         by  the  time  he's  fifty  his  face  is  going  to  be  completely  covered  in  wrinkles  at  this  pace.      his  stance  is   tense  but  not  defensive.        *       you—you're  not  supposed  to  be  in  here?

sicker  in  malady      &      ailment      ,      yes       .      *     he  does  not  address  the  elephant  in  the  room     ,     whether  directly  nor  indirectly      ,      &       merely  proceeds  to  hold  a  clear  -  grey  umbrella  above  the  empaths  shuttering  form     .     mother  nature’s  tears  kiss  ideally  upon  his  perfect  features      ,      as  he  is  left  without  protection    ,     within  her  mercy     .      in  turn  the  melancholy  droplets  soak  the  doctor  with  an  adamant  rain      ,     once  neat  hair  unraveling  with  every  hit       .     he  does  not  mind     ,     however     ,     as  he  shucks  off  his  large  woolen  coat      ——      placing  it  carefully  atop  will’s  shaking  shoulders      .     he’d  much  rather  be  bathed  in  petty  rainfall  then  to  allow  physical  sickness  take  over  his  charming  friend      .     *    i  disagree      ,      will      .      please    ,     get  inside     .     allow  me  to  make  you  something  hot      .

@purgehim
            
            
            sicker  than  i  already  am,      doctor?        *       he  smiles  slowly      &,    shakingly  as  though  he's  trying  to  force  his  muscle  to  complete  the  simple  action;         but  nothing  was  funny.        the  sleepless  nights  weren't  funny,      the  breakdowns  weren't  funny,        the  losing  track  of  time  sure  as  hell  wasn't  funny.       he  blinks,       hard      &,      unsure    as   the  heavy  rains  beats  against  his  shrunken  frame.         he  wraps  his  arms  around  himself  tighter,         brown     &,   usually  unruly  locks  being  stuck  to  his  cheeks.         he's  shaking  now,      perhaps  cold,      or  perhaps  scared.            *            i  don't  think  it  gets  more  sicker  than  this.