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"Oh, nice shot," you say. "Good prediction," you cheer. But do you really think it’s all me? No, it's the voices. They scream trajectories and detonation timings, they howl about blast radii and shrapnel patterns. In the chaos of battle, where you hear explosions, I hear symphonies. Each shot, each detonation, a note in the grand orchestra conducted by the phantoms in my skull.

im slowly strokinbg my ♥♥♥♥ to your pfp and your headshot and tftv

Dear heavenly blessed beauty, I have been thinking about you speechless and in awe.

a beacon of solo queing and ignorionmg the team

a beacon of teamwork