꧁If we held hands you can't comment on my dry skin꧂
I was worried about my broad, calloused palms and firm grasp. After just one second spent holding hands with you, those shits were polished smooth off. Finally, I can sleep under my microfiber towel without getting caught.
꧁If you were a troll what caste would you be?꧂
This is one of those cultural pitfalls, a trap lyin' in wait. As a human, speculating on my possible blood color is just calling out the fact that you all exist on a praxis of approximate stereotypes. Every jade can be bundled to each other through trait association with their neighbor, every olive can be assigned the same dish at the family reunion with the reassurance that they'll all dupe the recipe with 82% accuracy, all fuchsias can be woven together in the same tapestry of cringe-ass tryhard. Again and again, patterns repeat. Am I gonna be the asshole for noticing them, or for calling them out directly? I take the noble route. My third eye opens. My blood color wouldn't matter, guy on the internet. I would never adhere to barbaric instances of prejudice, when I come from a privileged world of sunshine and rainbows. Pick one for me, for they're all the same to me. When God smiles at his creations, will all hue of troll not be included in the same set of bleachers? Except those gormless indigos, anyway. Those guys are always Christless heathens, amiright?
꧁So humble. You must be a violet. I love you highblood. I will do anything for you.꧂