May the odds be ever in your flavor.
screw writing strong women. write strong metaphysical concepts. write the existential musings of a faceless blob of mutated flesh, the last of the human race, as it slowly dies on a radioactive beach. write the feeling of burning water against it’s melted toes as it looks to the stars and thinks, “i’m one badass bitch.”
Apparently, Mr. Mime is now Psychic-Fairy type.
Just have the urge to do this lol.
why is it hard to understand??????