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>guzma will never rest his head in your lap after a long day
>you will never run your fingers through the dishevelled locks of his surprisingly soft white hair, drawing sighs from him as you lightly scratch at his scalp with your fingernails and rub at his undercut
This plane of existence is suffering. I'd happily exit it if it meant I could go to the Pokemon world and find him, even though he'd probably just ignore me anyways.
