#sorry to unironically ship a duck and a man made out if yarn. as if it’s my fault.

[meerlichtz]

ok but I am actually unwell about this. imagine you’ve been murdered and tortured time and time again, eaten twice and killed thrice, and then the person you live with, your best friend, gently tells you, in total darkness, how he likes looking at you. and you say that you like looking at him, too, because you do. red is your favourite color for a reason. and neither of you can smile because his face is covered by yarn and you don’t actually have a mouth but the moment is so gentle and quiet and soft and it’s nothing like everything you’ve been through, like the horrors you’ve seen and the things they’ve done to you. every day you wake up in your personal hell with no way to escape but it doesn’t matter, not right now. in this moment, he is kind to you. he likes looking at you. you like looking back at him.

and also you look like this and he looks like that