#;selective

[fierydisposition]

❝ Having a deadbeat father is one thing. But being a deadbeat father? Suddenly no one feels sorry for you anymore. What’s the deal with that? ❞

❝ And deadbeat is such a harsh word! I mean - I’m busy. I don’t have time to keep up with whatever children I have running around out there. C’mon, cut a god some slack here. ❞ 

[inspiritedice-blog]

~If any mutuals are up for RPing on kik, feel free to message me! It's easier for me to do threads with all of my muses there, and it's more private.~

[agentofnightvale-archive-blog]

Old Fears || Selective

He was dreaming. On some level, he knew that; it really only made things worse because it was just a dream, a nightmare, and it shouldn’t scare him but he was so fucking terrified.

Everyone had forgotten him. Everyone. His friends, Ray, Erin, Cecil, his own friends, everyone. They didn’t look at him so much as through him, as if they’d never known him. And they kept looking at him like that no matter what he said or did. He felt every childhood terror slamming into him all at once. He was alone, abandoned, forgotten, and he didn’t even know why.

What had he done wrong? How had he fucked everything up so badly?

“S-someone,” he stuttered, the word coming out on a gasp, a wheeze, because he could barely breathe through the utter terror of being forgotten and tossed aside. “Anyone, please.”

He could feel tears dripping down his face, but he couldn’t feel his hands when he scrubbed at his face. He was so dizzy, he was going to pass out, and he couldn’t think past the repeating mantra of, “Don’t do this to me, please don’t leave me, I’m sorry, just don’t go.”

He wasn’t even sure when he woke up, but all he knew was he had to stifle a sob even if he wasn’t successful. He was still locked in panic, suffocating in it.