Shelby Has Liked Tweets About Other People Talking About Being Bitten By Wilbur. This Is Confirmation.

before i knew you were called cass i called you "dudel" (pronounced "doodle")

is that anything...

Ahahah well

I know one dude who keeps calling me Someran dan dan

And someone who calls me Casserooni in the tags (or smth like that)

I love when people are giving me names haha

EVERY TIME EVERY FUCKING TIME CAN HE NOT BE HAPPY FOR ONCE? CAN MY BOY BE HAPPY ONE FUCKING TIME WITHOUT SOMETHING GOING HORRIBLY WRONG??

I love just looking up anything and everything

My eyes flick from the wailing red face of the infant to the tired face of my worst enemy. I'd never seen him look so tired or defeated before and we had fought for a full 24 hours once!

"I know we've have our issues but-" I cut off the heroes rambling, holding my hand up.

"Stop."

His face looked perplexed, arms still rocking the wailing baby who was not getting anymore relaxed.

"Seriously? I spend so much time and money to track you down and have a dramatic final battle and instead of that I'm faced with." I wrinkle my nose at the sight of the dirty and once pristine and no doubt million dollar kitchen reduced to the war zone between a fussy baby and a helpless newly-single father. "This." my voice filled with distdane.

"Well I'm sorry my relationship falling apart didn't adhere to your evil plans, villain." The hero responds. Normally a response like this would be backed by a cocky voice and confident smirk and the heroes sidekick making some noise of surprise to hype up their boss. But without either of those it was just pathetic.

I roll my eyes, "Your not doing it right."

"Excuse me?"

"Your baby, your rocking them wrong. No wonder they're so fussy if their father is so useless at such a basic task." I click my tongue and walk forward, plucking the wailing baby out of the heroes arms.

"Put her dow-" The hero's complaint reduces to a look of confusion and awe as I gently adjust the baby in my hold and start to rock the-apprently-female baby.

"Do you think so little of me to assume I'd harm an infant?" I scoff. "I may be actively planning to attack the mayor-"

"-Your what?-"

"-But I am not a heartless maniac." I finish, the baby was still wailing, almost louder. I frown, "Did you feed her?"

"I tried but clearly it didn't work." Maybe it was the sleep deprivation but I was truly surprised I hadn't been thrown through 3 walls and laid flat on my back on the neighboring lawn. I look at the disaster of a kitchen and snort in amusement at the mess.

I raise the infant to my shoulder, supporting her bottom and starting to pat her back rhythmically. The hero seems questionable at my actions.

"She hasn't eaten, she's not going to-" right on that moment a small but strong burp comes from over my shoulder. The wailing puttering off into soft giggles.

"You were saying?" I hand the infant back to her father. He takes the baby and holds her close, stepping back a few steps with a calculated glare.

I roll my eyes and turn, leaving the kitchen and walking down the hall to exit the heroes home.

"Where are you going?" The hero walks into the entrance of the hallway, thoroughly confused.

"I'm not wasting my time to fight you, not in this state." I turn back to face him, "It'd be boring."

"Boring?" The hero repeats.

"Yes, boring. Good luck with your daughter, I hope she is nothing like you." I turn away and open the door, shutting it behind me and walking out of the multimillion dollar house no doubt leaving the hero greatly confused.

After months, the villain finds the hero, but upon arriving at his home, he discovers the hero in a stained robe, baby food splattered, huge dark circles under his eyes, and a non-stop crying baby. The only thing the hero says is, “My wife left me.”

Aaron Bushnell's final social media post before his self-immolation.

Can people stop making Astarion' hair brown. I get it, fluffy brown hair Is like a shared weakness but Elves canonically can have silver-white hair. Not from aging, just that it's a hair color

TRUST EXERCISE

This is not a rickroll

wheres seasons greasons

Louder for the dipshits in the back.

The occupation has no humanity. Rest in peace Sidra. Remember her name, Sidra Hassouna.