Telling the substitute teacher the wrong names: a classic. Telling the substitute teacher you are so old and born again every day, that ten thousand names could never define you, that you’re a shadowed mass swirling forth from jupiter, that your father is time and your mother is death, that you’ll swallow any scream of hers as you grow larger and ever larger: a super classic, king of the school, no homework ever.
I lost five followers after posting this and I have to say I’ve never been more proud
if I make you ship something:
1. I am sincerely sorry
2. 1 is a lie
3. it was my plan all along
4. message me stuff about it so we can chat uwu