#THANK YOU FOR POPPING IN THOUGH

[dokries]

Hiii I’m the “see your iPhone camera flashin’ ” anon. sorry if that was so random the lyrics just randomly came up in my head 😭 But nice to know you have an iPhone lol

<333

LOL yeah don’t worry about it 😭😭 i lowkey thought it was a request for some reason and i was like “?? how do i write this ??” but i didn’t actually know that was a lyric so thanks for letting me know at least :D (i’ve prob heard the song but just don’t remember it) ‎

have a dokyeom hehe <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I saw staff promoted your snake drawing! That's so cool!

I'm honestly still stunned by the feature! What a way to start off the new year!

[hoshiina]

pairing: narumi gen x gn!reader (no prns)

summary: he's always thought that anyone would do if he just wanted to find love but he realizes you're the one he wishes for, inspired by pop song by yonezu kenshi

warnings: some profanities from narumi

wc: 1300

Narumi Gen hated a lot of things, but one of his least favourites of all time was "true love". He despised when people would describe their love for another as "true love". It couldn't possibly be that serious. Just say you loved your partner. That was probably the extent feelings got to anyways— you just so happened to like each other at the same time. To him that was plenty of a feat alone, why would you have to make it sound like more than it is? For the sake of love? Ridiculous.

To him, that was truly all love was. If there was someone who liked him when he happened to like them too, that was enough. No need for years of pining, no need to get attached to some unrequited love. All that noise about love and destiny surely wasn't all that necessary.

Now, this wasn't to say that he didn't wish to find love— because he did. Like any other person, he truly wished to be loved. It was just that what he had in mind wasn't some deep pure love that'd last forever, nor was it a promise for eternity. He just wished for a light-hearted "I love you" here and there with someone he found special.

And for that, anyone would do. He'd find someone who fancied him along the way, and hopefully he'd like them back. That was all there was to it.

This meant his plan for finding his partner was sitting around and waiting. As horribly lame as that sounded, because he was Narumi Gen, this wasn't that hopeless of a plan. So, that's what he did. He'd go around saving people and doing his duties (to the absolute bare minimum) while making sure he was constantly trending, hoping that one day, someone would like him.

Today he was standing around for a solid five extra minutes after he defeated the honju with ease, hoping the media would snap some nice pictures of him, or he'd finally charm someone this time.

"Captain, you ought to stop that," you said. "It's rather embarrassing, you look desperate now."

"Oh, would you shut up," he said. "You're ruining my good name!"

You snorted. "What good name," you scoffed.

"I'm starting to think its your fault I'm not charming anyone. Perhaps if you didn't stop me every time, someone would have found me by now," he said.

"Yeah, right. Captain Ashiro seems to be having no issues charming people and I've never seen her try to," you said.

"You little shit," he said.

"Besides they're going to be utterly disappointed if they think this is what you're like and then they find out what you're… actually like," you said, and he was starting to think you wanted him to fire you. "It's okay. Someone will see how you're actually lovely at times soon."

"What?" he asked, shocked by what you said.

"What?" you replied, confused.

"You— you said lovely," he said quietly. Suddenly he felt flustered.

"Oh," you said, looking away and avoiding eye contact. It wasn't like you didn't mean to say that, but you didn't think it was that big of a deal. Rather, how flustered he sounded took you by surprise. “Well, you’re a little lame but you’re a good guy. Like you pretend you only do it for the media, but I know you’re always checking the alleyways that don’t have as much surveillance just in case, and checking alleyways isn’t something a captain has to do. And we both know the media isn’t writing about anything you do there. Things like that.”

“You never know!” he said, and you snorted.

“Alright then,” you said. “You do you, Captain.”

“I will!” he said back, trying to sound proud.

A week had passed and here he was, doing what he always did after arriving fashionably late to the scene and taking all the kaiju out in a matter of minutes: standing around trying to look good. Because he wanted love, and anyone would do. Anyone who liked him was supposed to do.

...

And yet he wished for you.

He wished that when he woke up, the first thing he would see was you. He wished that you'd smile at him everyday with love and genuine joy the way you did to others, and he wished that you’d smile that way to him alone. He wished that after a long day, he was the one you came home to. He wished from the bottom of his heart that you would always be safe and no harm would ever come your way. He wished that your days were filled with laughter and smiles and he knew he would risk his life to protect that.

It was so unlike him in a way he absolutely hated. True love was supposed to be nonsense and someone being ‘the one’ was supposed to be some dramatic line in a movie. It upset him, that he was so utterly fond of you. Yet, no matter how much it upset him, it didn't change the fact that he was, and he couldn't deny it anymore after trying to ignore it for the full week.

So here he was, acting stupid again, hoping that you’d scold him again or tell him he’s embarrassing himself, because that’s what it’s come down to. He just wanted another reason to talk to you.

But you wouldn’t come to stop him after 10 whole minutes.

“Why aren’t you stopping me?” he asked, irritated.

“Pardon?” you asked, utterly confused.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asked again. He was aware how silly he sounded, but he was pissed off that you meant so much to him so he had to take it out on you.

“Because you told me to stop last time??” you replied. “I thought you were going to keep this up until you found yourself a partner.”

“You’re the one who told me to find someone that saw how I was…. lovely…. at times,” he said, but said the lovely very quietly. Remembering that you had described him as lovely made his cheeks burn and he’d rather die than let you see that.

“I mean, yeah. I do think you should,” you said.

“Don’t you notice, though?” he asked quietly, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence.

“I do,” you said, and immediately he looked up to face you. You had a grin on your face and you looked so proud— you looked like you had won a game. Oh, how he hated you.

“You’re so annoying,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Rich coming from you,” you said.

“So, do you—,” he started to yell before cutting himself off. Carefully, he tried again. “Would you please… uh… be mine…?”

Oh, this is so embarrassing, he thought. Perhaps you’d laugh at him, but he wanted to do this properly, or at the very least try to. He’d be far more than just stupid to mess this up now. He was finally in love.

But your laughter never came. When he looked up your eyes were wide and you looked so flustered, but soon you had the most beautiful smile on your face.

“I would absolutely love to,” you said.

So he kissed you right then and there, because there was nothing he wanted to do more at the moment.

He laughed a little.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“No, nothing,” he said.

There was no way just anyone would do— it had to be you.

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Sweatpants, they're sweatpants, you see? Sweatpants, I tricked you. It's too hot man, there's no way! This white shirt is cool, right? I even put on a little vest that I have and I wore my best tie, it's Burberry. I even put on a little vest that I have, but it doesn't fit anymore. Hold on, let me fix my camera-

Pac: Hello, welcome, my name is Pac, I'll be parking your car today. [Laughs] It doesn't fit man, you see?! It doesn't fit anymore, man! It's no use, you see? I'm vacuum sealed, right? I know, I know, I know– The only thing that fits is the tie!

Pac: I'm really excited for the [Arkanis] Oscars today because we're going to see a lot of– Lots of friends, the old Specialists, right? Everything's tight, all of these are old. There's no way, man! There's no way, no way– I can't even put on my old blazer–! [He struggles, but eventually succeeds in putting it back on] It's too hot, Chat! I can't do it, I might not be able to do it, I might not be able to wear this for long, for real. It wasn't supposed to be seen, these weren't meant to be visible, ok? [The pants] weren't supposed to look like this. Relax, it's because I'm not wearing the right pants, ok? It looks better from afar, alright?

Pac: I'm not that short, I'm 175 cm, guys! You're calling me– no, I'm not.

[pushing500]

It's a nice thought, Mechi. Eventually, though, we do want you two to be matchy-matchy with bionics as well, so hairstyles really are the only thing telling you apart.

Besides, Kwahu's hair is pretty iconic at this point, and I like drawing it.

Oh, uh... Bye, I guess. Thanks for hanging out. Don't come back.

Don't worry, Brandy! You will be avenged!! The perfect opportunity to field-test our bionics.

We're in the middle of fighting evil dog-killing cultists, and bugs decided to try and outmaneuver our killbox (it did not go well for them). Silly bugs.

First | Next | Previous

[meowrimo]

hiya friendz !! happy timezones :3 oh and happy april while we are at it !! i hope you’ve all been keeping well ! i am so happy today is saturday (ㅅ´ ˘ `) i’m going to make some cinnamon rolls this morning so come on by for some if you’d like ! 🤍🪽

[eldritchsquared]

guys will say “i think being in a mosh pit would fix me” and then theyll leave the mosh pit with a headache, severely dehydrated, lungs burning, and every joint and muscle hurting. and it did fix them

[i3utterflyeffect]

cursor selkie sc (due to some unlikely plot contrivance) in god with a bag of groceries au would be so funny...bystanders watching god pass by with a bag of groceries, followed by tiny god with a packet of cookies. adorable.

ANON... YOUR MIND..........

[ifindus]

IreNor opinion?

I believe I've answered a question similar to this before, but it might have been closer to a year ago sooooo

I've mentioned a couple times now, but there's very few ships including Norway that I don't like - love people exploring different relations for him. IreNor is one of those I really like. It has great historical background and I believe their personalities would go together very well. I'm def up for seeing more of them around and people creating more art and writing for them - it'd be very interesting to see other people's take on their interactions. All in all, solid ship ✨

[zeipasta]

Puyo drawings!!!!!!! (Again)

[lordmaddie]

From Liberation to Blood

They had averted the Cleansing... And it was not enough. A little post-canon drabble... The former Prophet is hiding something, and Tharaêl isn't putting up with the mystery. Yet for the two - who haven't had a hand raised to either of them in kindness for a decade or more, who no longer have 'who cares, the world's ending' as an excuse to smooth over any issues - the resulting argument is... Unkind. Continuing on from Everything Works Out In The End (which you don't have to read to get what's happening).

A worrisome restlessness had possessed the Marksman.

They had averted the Cleansing, struck a blow against the High Ones, and had their own deaths postponed as their hero’s reward… And it was not enough. They had aided the transition of Enderal from an independent country to a vassal-state of Nehrim. Worked with the mages (those who survived, at least) to seed messages and aid for the next Prophet. Helped dismantle the Beacon and store it safely away... And it was not enough. Jespar had departed on some grand new adventure, and they received his letters on occasion. The Marksman moped, of course, at the loss of his friend (though he’d promised to return in a year or so), and Tharaêl had encouraged him to keep busy. He’d signed up for classes to actually learn to read and write Inâl. He’d gotten into the habit of training up at the Sun Temple (the Nehrimese were trying to change the name, of course, but it was too stuck) with Calia a few times a week - they’d found common ground to become true friends. And it was not enough.

Every few nights the Marksman would come sneaking into his own house like a thief in the dark, with the reek of the Undercity clinging to him but not to his clothes - indicating he’d changed out of them for some reason. He carried a bag, though Tharaêl knew not its contents, as it was quickly stashed somewhere secret. Questions were met with half-truths and non-answers… He wasn’t being lied to, but the Marksman was hiding something.

What absurdity… After everything they’d been through, after every past shame shared, what could possibly warrant such secrecy?

So here he waited, pathetically in the dark, lingering like a jilted housewife waiting to catch a cheating spouse. Ridiculous that it’d come to this.

Quiet, subtle, a sound that would’ve been missed were he not waiting for it: the scrape of a body hauled over a wall. A window unlatched from the outside by the insertion of a blade. He’d climbed over the fucking garden wall and was sneaking in through the pantry window!

Tharaêl deposited himself at the kitchen table, sitting just in time to catch the Marksman silently opening the pantry door… And finding himself caught.

“Sit down.” He demanded, in a tone that brokered no disobedience. His friend did so, pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the table. He didn’t even have the decency to look guilty, only… Resigned. Tharaêl crossed his arms to stop himself from drumming his fingers in his impatience. “Open the bag,” another demand, for this charade had gone on quite long enough, “and then you can tell me what you’ve been doing that has to remain so secret.”

The Marksman sighed, long and weary, but obeyed. “I was going to tell you.” An impotent promise at this point… “When there was a better time.” “Tell me what-” He began, but stopped. Stared.

At the set of Rhalâta armour the bag had contained.

“Tell me you killed someone for this.” Tharaêl said, teeth grit from his rising anger. Silly to even say the words… The armour was so, so obviously made to his friend’s measurements. “Tell me this is a… A trophy. Tell me you didn’t-!” The Marksman leaned back in his chair, face blank. Not unreadable, just… Blank. “It’s no bad thing.” “No bad-!” He threw the armour onto the table, fists slamming into the wood shortly after. “After everything that happened, everything we fought for, you join them? Why?” Anger was so easy, so safe. Better than the looming pit of betrayal that threatened to shatter everything. And still, no reaction stirred from his companion. Just as Tharaêl retreated into his wrath, the Marksman retreated into his apathy.

“Remember the schism? After I killed the High Seer and the new Voices?” He began, carefully picking his words. It seemed so long ago, now… But yes. The Marksman had killed them to prevent the Rhalâta from learning that Tharaêl hadn’t Transcended, and the fear those killings put in the cult led to a coup… And once the dust from that had settled, it seemed the remaining Rhalâim were no longer interested in their old religion… “There was chaos because of it, and even the Order nearly stepped in. Arantheal told us they considered flooding the city with the store of poison.” He continued. “The Nehrimese slaughter - what we saw in the Crow District was only a small part of it - was so much worse. The Rhalâta survive, only just, and the resulting power imbalance has given rise to… Opportunists.” “So let them whither! Let the scum of that place gut each other like the animals they are! Why this?” The Marksman made to answer, but Tharaêl interrupted him, pointing an accusatory finger. “No, don’t bother. I know why: you want to feel like a big man again, now you’re no longer the Prophet. Put your fists into a few debtors, hm? Break some bones? What percentage of the Tax do they let you keep-”

“I don’t do any of that.” His friend’s turn to interrupt. “I don’t collect the Shadow Tax, or get involved with the Glimmerdust, or any of that.” “Then-” “What else? I kill people.” It would almost be better if he boasted, or preened, not… Not admitted it so casually. “The High Speaker gives me my targets, and… I do what I was made for.”

This was… Disgusting. Vile. To not only commit this betrayal to Tharaêl, but to betray himself; everything he’d ever claimed to regret… “So you got your absolution…” Tharaêl hissed, repulsed. “Just to go straight back to your old sins? To find yourself a new Family? To whore yourself to the fucking Rhalâta as their damned pet assasain?”

There: a reaction from him at last. A tilt of the head, the pinpoint focus usually reserved for the targets for his arrows. “You are being cruel.” He said, in the same voice that had lesser men nigh pissing themselves in fear. “Which I usually allow. But no more.” “Oh you won’t allow me, will you?” The ludicrosity of it had him laughing. “You have no fucking idea how cruel I can be!” “Do you want a fight, or do you want to actually let me explain myself?”

Enough of this! This was going nowhere. So it was all over, apparently, and Tharaêl didn’t have to put up with this posturing. He made to stand-

The Marksman pushed the kitchen table roughly, hitting Tharaêl in the stomach with it. “Sit down, coward.” “You cunt, I’ll-” “You’ll listen! Let me explain!”

He tried to push the table back, but it was being held firm. “Or fucking what?” “Or I can be cruel, too.” “Ha! Go on then, Marksman, show me! Go on!”

His friend stood, slowly, eyes pinning Tharaêl where he sat. It was… Disconcerting, to be on the receiving end of his intimidation. A small part of his traitor-body started to demand surrender, or to flee… Easily quashed. It was only the Marksman, after all.

He walked around the table, face cold and - yes, Tharaêl’d actually managed to make him angry. He drew back an arm, and Tharaêl held fast in mocking invitation, refusing to yield nor flinch in the slightest- But no blow came. He simply reached forward to cup Tharaêl’s face in a hand.

And his touch felt exactly like His.

For a brief, awful second, it was not his friend’s face he saw but the Father’s; that dreadful mask that haunted his nightmares even now… He couldn’t help himself, and tried to pull away- The hand that held him gripped, bruising. The other casually knocked aside Tharaêl’s hasty retaliation, then went to his shoulder and pushed, forcing him still. The Marksman leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes… For the first time, perhaps ever in all the time they’d known each other, there was no love in them. There was nothing at all.

“I am going to leave.” He said, voice taking on a concerning hollowness. “And I will return in the morning. When we will talk.”

Tharaêl was given no opportunity to reply. His friend simply turned and walked out the front door.

Leaving him sat alone, pathetically, in the dark

-

True to his word, the Marksman did not return that night. Tharaêl found himself uncaring of where he was, or even if he had a place to sleep. He himself lay in the spare room - he couldn’t stand being in their shared bed with his friend’s side so empty and cold. Not that it mattered. Sleep evaded him regardless.

Sunrise had the front door opening again, bringing familiar footsteps.

Tharaêl took himself downstairs and into the kitchen. The Marksman didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t speak… Instead busied himself with lighting the stove and boiling water for tea.

He made two cups. It felt like an offer of peace.

“So.” Tharaêl said, forgoing the pleasantries he didn’t deserve. “Explain.” “The men I kill-” He corrected himself. “The men the High Speaker contracts me to kill, are the worst of the Undercity scum. Not just rapists, or lust murderers… Evil men. Men who want power, power like what the Rhalâta had - and they will run the Undercity to ruin with it. The Nehrimese slaughter left a lot of gaps they’re trying to fill.” “But why-” He repeated… Tired. He was so tired. “Why help the Rhalâta?” A shrug. “The Undercity needs someone in charge. And the Rhalâta are the lesser evil. At least they have a vested interest in not making the Dust too deadly, or pushing the people or beyond what they can tolerate, or taking too much… Even you told me they wouldn’t take the Tax from those who truly had nothing to give.” True. “Yet after everything…” “After everything the Rhalâta did, someone has to keep an eye on them… From the inside. Look at me, Tharaêl.” The Marksman reached halfway across the table, offering his hand for him to take. He didn’t. Regardless, he continued. “I swear to you: as long as I work for them, I will make sure there isn’t another Father. That there aren’t more Rhalâs. So yes, I whore myself to them as their assassin… So they don’t see the sword dangling over their heads.”

The foolish lambs had even given him a set of sheep’s clothing. And yet, and yet… “Do you like it?” The power, the killing. Almost a shameful question, betraying an unvoiced fear. Tharaêl wished he had Atonement at his hips, lest the answer be ‘yes’... His friend broke eye contact. “I’m good at what I do. I was forced on this path, but the skill is mine alone. I don’t want to waste it… What would I do? Hang up my bow and become a farmer?” “You could.” “Bah. I’ll sell the house, then, and move us to the Farmer’s Coast. We’ll trade our weapons in for a pair of… Shovels?” He looked at Tharaêl questioningly, which got a shrug. Sure, shovels sounded correct. Farmers had shovels. “No, that life isn’t for us, even now. You could do the same, but you’re working for the Nehrimese now.” “That’s different! They’re a bunch of idealists who think everything will be sunshine and roses just because they’ve done away with religion. They need at least one person who knows how the world really works!” “And you kill for them when they tell you.” Tharaêl snorted. “No-one tells me to do anything.” That earned him a roll of the eyes from the Marksman. “You kill for them when they ask nicely for your consideration.” “Bandits and outlaws. Deserters still clinging to Coarek’s old creed. It’s not the same.” Yet as he said it, the words rang false even to his own ears.

They sat in silence for a minute, having talked themselves into an impasse. The Marksman relented first. “I’ll stop.” He offered. “If it’s this or you, I’ll go to the High Speaker today and tell him I won’t work for them anymore.” He’d not made an ultimatum - not out loud, at least… But it was heartening to know what his friend would choose. “No. No… You trusted me to help me kill the Father even though I was his Voice. I’ll trust you in this. But you’ll tell me what they’re up to.” “Of course. You gossip about the Nehrimese, after all.” “I do not!” He sipped his tea to stop himself saying something unwise. The Marksman did the same with his own, pointedly not saying anything.

So the matter was apparently sorted. He didn’t like it, but… Well, he was right. Honourable, clean work wasn’t for the likes of them… Absolution earned or not. Last night they’d… They’d behaved the only way they knew how. There would be no apologies.

Something else was bothering him. Ah, yes- “High Speaker.” Tharaêl said. “You keep calling him that. It’s not High Seer anymore?” “Oh.” His friend laughed. “They call him the Speaker because he doesn’t. He’s mute.” “How does he give you your orders? Your reading isn’t that good yet.” “Psh. Thanks. No, he speaks in hands but has a translator who does the talking. He says he’s sick of writing notes, anyway.” Familiar. Why was that familiar?

The realisation hit him like a stone to the head. “Brother Greed is the High Speaker??”

---------

[cozylittleartblog]

GRAAAHHH SORRY THIS IS SUDDEN BUT OH MY GOD I FINALLY FOUND YOU. IM THE BENREY THAT RAN UP TO YOUR BOOTH AR AMW THIS YEAR AND MY FRIEND BOUGHT ME LIKE ALMOST ALL YOUR VALVE STUFF, I LITERALLY CRIED WHEN I GOT BACK TO THEIR ROOM CAUSE LIKE DUDE. THAT MEANT EVERYTHING FOR ME, I WAS GENUINELY SO SO SO HAPPY TO SEE THE FANDOM IS STILL ALIVE AND IVE BEEN LOOKING FOR FANS IN THE WILD FOR YEARS. THE EXPERIENCE WAS ENLIGHTENING TO SAY THE LEAST AND IM SO SO JOYOUS ABOUT IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH !1!11! :•3

:D !!!! HI!!! I REMEMBER YOU!!! THANK YOU FOR STOPPING BY, I'M SO HAPPY IT WAS MEMORABLE FOR YOU!!

people who are so enthusiastic about the things i make and the fandoms i rep at my booth are THE #1 coolest part of the experience 🥺 i feel like convention artist alleys these days are mostly filled with the same 4 popular anime/mobile games and it's really hard to find less popular anime, let alone things like video games and webseries. you would not believe how many comments I got that people never see things like Team Fortress 2 or Portal in AAs, let alone stuff like Infinity Train or HLVRAI 😭 the people who recognize them are always SO excited and then I'M excited and we are BOTH excited and nerding out together. it's fantastic!!!

the hlvrai fandom is definitely still going strong! i still see a lot of fanart and community posts and my sales on my few hlvrai things on my etsy have Not slowed down lmao. i'm sure if covid didn't happen there would have been so many benry cosplayers in 2020. we were ROBBED </3 i've seen You and one benry cosplayer at ACEN last year and that was IT </3 </3 </3

[hood-ex]

first, love your account and love your analyses. i've been scrolling your account for a while now because i just love reading your thoughts and interpretations of things. i came across this post of yours; did you end up making any of the posts? i'm especially curious about the crying one lmfao --> https://www.tumblr.com/hood-ex/715265906986663936/saying-i-want-to-make-a-detailed-meta-of-each?source=share

It's funny you mention the crying one because literally a week or so ago I saw a panel of Tim crying and I was like yay another crying panel of Tim to add to the list lmao. I forget why I was originally keeping a tally of him crying. I think I intended to make some kind of sad edit or something. So I was like hm I need to harvest his tears.

Buuuut no. I haven't made such compilations yet. I mean I've made some over the years with certain happenings like idk there's one where Bruce, Dick, and Damian all snap swords with their hands or something (someone else might have added Damian though--I can't take all the credit). If I'm remembering that correctly. Or stomp on it or idk they shatter it someway, somehow. But that's like a very specific thing they all do at different points in life. Or sometimes people ask me like, "Does Bruce call anyone else other than Dick son" or whatever, and I've done stuff like that. Do I know where those posts are? No. But they live in my blog somewhere.

[cheriecoke]

hi my beloveds <3 i just wanted to say, i feel so bad lately for not being a better friend and mutual, and i'm so incredibly sorry for that :( i haven't been in a great place mentally these past few months, and i feel so guilty for the fact that i struggle to be active and positive on here. i've been really horrible about keeping up with people and messages and fics etc, and even though i know this is just a hobby and just for fun, i do consider many of you my friends <3 i care about you all so very much and i feel so selfish for being so neglectful of everyone. it's just been very hard for me to balance things in my personal life and on here, and i am truly truly sorry i can't be better about it. i love you always, and i hope everyone knows that <3

[ghost-proofbaby]

reading aot fanfiction that is set in the canon world and has mentions of titans but never witnessing it was so funny to me.

like yeah. whatever. giant creatures that gruesomely eat humans exist but let's focus on 2 boys fucking each other and then fucking you at the same time

[foundnthestars]

HELLO BELOVED MUTUAL SKY 👋👋👋 I don't rlly have anything to talk about I just wanted to remind u that you're the best. Don't burn yourself out on writing 🫵 drink water and stuff !!!

oh, man, copper you’re the best seriously!! thank you so much for this, i think i needed to hear it 😭😭

but honestly don’t worry about me, if anything’s burning me out it’s making coffee 40 hours a week for boomers. writing and thinking about writing makes me feel sane.

i will be drinking more water though. that i DEFINITELY needed the reminder for 🫡