Holy fuck. You have the worst luck ever with this shit. I say hunt them down. IP addresses or shit. There's got to be some way to stop it. You're a bright fellow (to say the least.) I'm sure you'll figure something out.
Do these artists think you don't brush your hair or something? And my, Eddie is looking effeminate in that first pic. I'd say you're lucky you can't see your face in it but just being in it in the first place kind of negates the luck. (You have no eyes... what.)
Fffft. Fairy. If you were ever "fairy" like, I'd imagine it'd be those medieval style fairies that abducted children and kept people out of the woods for fear they'd get them.
Eddie is just SLIGHTLY better. I'm going to pretend he's so disturbed by your COMPLETE lack of face that his eyes are slowly receding into his face. (Whatever helps me not picture this while I try to sleep at night. Urgh.)
“I just want you to see if you can give us some words of advice to mend our little quarrel streak,” wheedled Jervis as soon as the door was closed. “We’ve tried everything, you see!”
“Everything?” spat Jonathan, pushing Jervis gruffly aside in order to beat him to the least uncomfortable spot on the worn-out therapy couch. “’Everything’, he says! Pah! I could have counseled him myself, but he wouldn’t hear of it, the tyrant!” He plopped down on the far right end of the couch and stared daggers at Jervis, daring him to come near.
‘Your new roommate is Doctor Crane?’ Jervis Tetch had befriended Nygma shortly after he’d been delivered to Arkham; rather, Nygma had befriended him. Of the two of them, Tetch was the sanest, though boredom and corrupt therapists were driving him closer to the edge.
That's not even true, you being saner than I. Haha!
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Want that handshake again?
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All I need is a few bombs and it'll all go away.
Um, Want some hush puppies or something?
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I LIKE IT.
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I'm a little less upset about the hair than the, uh, content, to be honest.
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Do these artists think you don't brush your hair or something? And my, Eddie is looking effeminate in that first pic. I'd say you're lucky you can't see your face in it but just being in it in the first place kind of negates the luck. (You have no eyes... what.)
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I DON'T EVEN HAVE A FACE AT ALL. I'M FREAKIN OUT, SON. D8
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Eddie is just SLIGHTLY better. I'm going to pretend he's so disturbed by your COMPLETE lack of face that his eyes are slowly receding into his face. (Whatever helps me not picture this while I try to sleep at night. Urgh.)
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“Everything?” spat Jonathan, pushing Jervis gruffly aside in order to beat him to the least uncomfortable spot on the worn-out therapy couch. “’Everything’, he says! Pah! I could have counseled him myself, but he wouldn’t hear of it, the tyrant!” He plopped down on the far right end of the couch and stared daggers at Jervis, daring him to come near.
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PAH
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That's not even true, you being saner than I. Haha!
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That's horrible. Just horrible.
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