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The Gendered Womb [A Blurb]

Author's Note: I haven't posted in A WHILE. but i've been writing blurbs everyday now to try to find my writer's voice again. This is today's. Thought it was neat. Wanted to share it. Enjoy bebes. Word count: 855

For as long as she could remember, Lia wanted kids. A girl to be exact. A version of herself, an extension that she could love and show affection to the way her mother never did.

Lia understood the motive was selfish. She was a psychologist after all, which meant she was painfully aware of why some humans ached for kids. She was no different. Her what-some-might-claim innate desire to procreate was as strong as ever.

A girl. Maybe two. Three even. Four if she could afford it.

But a girl. They had to be girls. Had to be.

Lia may not be that kind of doctor but she wasn’t in AP biology for nothing. She understood that’s not how it worked. She knew the sperm decided the gender of the baby—a fact that annoyed her now as much as it did when she first learned it. It meant a lack of control, something she despised.

She pursued psychology for the very same reason. To control her thoughts. Understand, dissect, and analyze her trauma. To rise above and convince herself: she was in control.

And that won’t be the case here. And she didn’t know what she would do with herself if she birthed anything but a girl. This womb, she would think, is a haven only for girls. To protect, nourish, and house only them. 

Oftentimes she would use the techniques she taught her patients herself. Imagine a—boy—growing inside her. Point out what’s the worst that could happen and work through what she’d do in each case. 

It never helped. Correction; it did help. It helped affirm her prejudice against having, raising or being a mother to a boy (the idea of having more than one crippled her mind with fear).

Irrational, she later journaled, circling the word over and over again. Little arrows shot from the shadows as she tried to map out where exactly the fear came from, when it began. 

Childhood, perhaps? It always seemed to come back to that. At least that’s been the case with most of her patients. She’s helped them…or at least hoped she has (there’s that ego again, she noted)...but couldn’t seem to help herself.

Tapping her pen against her journal, she wished the binary movement would hypnotize her into unlocking a memory, something, anything that she may have repressed. A moment that would explain her distaste for boys—and frankly, all of Adam’s descendants. 

No, no. This wasn’t about her hatred of men. Boys are…boys, she dismissed. I don’t like them. I don’t wish to have one. I’m haunted by the idea of raising one. But that has nothing to do with why I fear men and loathe their kind.

That notion I could trace to childhood, she chuckled to herself, but the other I can not.

Adoption was later brought up by her friends at brunch. Lia nodded along, listening to them list who in their families adopted, how great it was, and…She blanked out most of that conversation. She was thinking about how she could explain that it’s not just about raising a girl but housing one.

An extension. 

Her friends wouldn’t get it, Lia dwelled while rushing through lunch before getting to her clinic. Half of them didn’t want kids, yet another ego-protecting response (ironic, she claimed), and the other didn’t have kids of their own but assumed so blindly that they knew everything about everything.

It was hard to focus on helping, or rather, listening to patients for the next couple of hours. Lia’s mind drifted a lot, and the matcha coffee didn’t sharpen her mind enough. A patient would talk about their overbearing boss or their want to cheat on their partners, and Lia would be daydreaming solutions to get her a girl. Two, if the stars allowed it.

Prayer was the first thing she thought of. She was a woman of science but make no mistake, she believed. But she also believed that prayer was simply a way to keep your faith alive. Ultimately though, it was God’s final say. Yet another He/Him trying to control the gender.

I’m sure He has a grand plan, Lia muttered on her bathroom break, just as I’m sure that I wouldn’t agree with it. Or at the very least, I wouldn’t agree with the part that I’m meant to have a boy—if that is written.

I pray it is not. I pray instead that God’s plan is to show me the way to having a girl. A beautiful, healthy, baby girl.

And I will use that way to get more.

Evening falls. Lia has miraculously made it through six sessions without letting her inner conflict show. She owed that to her mother. Her ache for a drink after work though, she owed to her father, a man she only heard stories about.

That’s not the reason, she repeated to herself. Not the reason.

She didn’t want boys. And it’s okay to have a preference. Heck, parents have preferences! Her mom certainly did. And who was anyone to tell Mrs. Goldman that Lia was just as great as her older brother, Liam? 

Exactly.

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👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

We know many of you have seen NaNoWriMo's recent statements on generative AI...

Well, we have too—and that's why we've made the decision to retract our sponsorship of NaNo.

Your support and belief in human creativity, transparency and collaboration mean everything to us, and we're committed to staying true to that. Thank you all! 💙

You can read our full statement here.

The Ellipsus team xo

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the ever terrifying and exhausting cycle of “i don’t want to share my writing bc it feels disheartening when not many people are interested in it” and “i have to post the writing for people to become interested in it”

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YO YO YO

i was away on a long ass summer vacation and now I'm back

Help Me Catch Up (Moots & Unmoots)

tell me everything!! I've missed the heck out of tumblr (addicted much? maybe. but i don't think so lol)

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written by the most resilient, talented, hardworking, and incredible woman i know 🥹👏🏻

GO CHECK IT OUT IT WILL MAKE U CRY.

Happy to announce my Sebastian x f!farmer fic, "This Modern Love" is complete! Read it here on AO3.

Summary: Sage Sandoval has had enough of Zuzu City and her shitty parents. In less than 24 hours, she uproots her life and settles on her grandfather's old land. She expected to farm, to work hard and focus on survival. What she didn't expect was community, a glimpse into her past, and to fall in love with a certain reclusive programmer. This is a story about trauma, healing, and resilience. About love, friendship, and learning to let people in and break down the walls we put up to protect ourselves. Story takes place around 2006. Alternating POV between Sage/Sebastian.

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this is beyond beautiful and i disdain that we still live in a century where it has to be said and that the wounds of this BS still run so deep and we as a collective still suffer and face this crap on a daily basis. well-said OP so many good quotes in here 👏🏻

they will need to whipstitch the wound closed, but embroidery is a "woman's" task. they will need to eat and clean and mend clothes, but why learn basic things when you can have a woman measure out your life in beads. he will be the "head" of your house, but if you want him to act accordingly, you must assign him a list of all applicable activities. you will be otherwise constantly in charge of almost-everything; so he will lead the house he is absent from.

in movies and books, the "cool" girl will be more-like-a-man. she will be "less boring," more "fun". she will have masculine ideas and masculine talents, which means a man doesn't have to change in order to find her fascinating. she will disdain of something as simple as stitching. how boring!

she will kick open the door of a car and quip what, girls can't drive? and flip her long hair down one side. she will grill and shoot a gun and skydive. be a guy. she will be sexualized.

somewhere, working on computers becomes a masculine task, and now on tv a gen-z disney character throws her hands up in the air. i can't be a computer science nerd, i'm a girl! in the real life, she will be unable to sit through some of her classes, shivering when she realizes she is the only woman present in several of them.

how many times have you read this book and seen this show and watched this movie. the singular woman is allowed 5 lines because she's not just smart! she's also pretty! she is surrounded by 20 average men, but she is stunning. she is the exception to the bland, pale lives of women-at-home, who will never be shown. she likes dirt and motorbikes and blood and shows up in a tiny dress during the final scene, rolling her eyes at our male lead's incredulity - just because i like motorcross doesn't mean anything. i'm still a woman, okay? i actually like shopping.

it is almost never reversed, and you think about that often. it is vanishingly rare to have a single man in a cast of women. the male love interest does not show up at a feminist march and sardonically squint at our leading lady - what? you thought only women care about human rights? he does not know how to balance a checkbook or kickbox because i grew up with three sisters.

when he cooks he is a chef, which is sexy. when he cleans, he's being kind, genteel. when he nurtures his family, confetti rains from the ceiling. when she does these things: it is her duty and her identity. what do you mean she has other passions and hobbies? isn't her hobby and passion homemaking?

the other day a friend embroidered a seam closed on your jacket into the shape of ivy. every time you touch it, you think of her.

something about women's hobbies and art and skills. something about women's work.

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this is a safe space for people who think they’re “bad” writers btw you’re not a bad writer, you’re learning and i love you

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I Will Edit and Give Feedback on Your Writing For Free

Hello all!

As many of you know, I’m a part-time editor of non-fiction and writer of all things fiction, but I would love to get more experience editing creative fiction. I don’t consider myself experienced enough to charge for this, and I also understand paying for editing or feedback can be a huge barrier for improving a manuscript! For these reasons I’m offering my services for the low, low cost of absolutely free :-)

My credentials:

I’ve been a creative writer for over a decade and have written countless novels, short stories, and other forms of fiction.

I have been published several times in magazines, newspapers, and literary journals.

I am an editor for a newspaper and have been an editorial intern at a magazine, an editor for a literary journal and also a marketing intern at a publishing house.

I have a diploma in filmmaking and a degree in Communications studies.

Here’s what I can do:

Give feedback on the first 30-ish pages of a novel, short story, or other work (including fan fiction!)

Edit/copy edit up to 30 pages.

Look over and give feedback on outlines, character building, world building (or all three).

Edit and provide feedback on academic/school work or essay planning (though I can’t write any of it for you)

Offer peptalks and encouragement!

What I can’t do

Smut or otherwise explicit/spicy romances, sorry.

Poetry (I’m useless with it, I don’t think I’d be very helpful in this area)

Writing without any content/trigger warnings (I am able to provide help here, you just need to add the warnings first)

AI-generated work

Write the work for you

Interested?

Send me a DM with what you need help on, the breadth of the project, and if not Discord, where you'd prefer to chat instead!

Questions? Send them my way through comment, dm, or ask box and I'm happy to answer!

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me every single waking minute of my day period

I'm too bisexual for this

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commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

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rambling ahead.

ok. ok. O. K.

I just finished reading A Feather in the Breeze and I'm just... at a loss for words.

Putting aside how well this incredibly magical world is introduced and also the beautiful writing style that just transports you to all these.. etheral places in your imagination, THE STORY ENDS ON A CLIFFHANGER.

which i loved. and hated. but mostly loved. because like i got so invested i got angry which proves how SJSKSJJ the novella is.

AND THE CHARACTERS. Gahd. i can't decide who to love. if we play fuck marry kill with Aveline, Adonis, and Thalissa, i would rather die than have to choose. i want them all. ESPECIALLY Thalissa (spoiler: a dark princess that wants to kidnap me and make me her bride? yes please. I'll eat that shit up. Stockholm syndrome can't hit me fast enough.)

and Adonis i swear will legit make the straighest man out there swoon. no lie. he's just.. yummy. i won't ever stop describing him as such. BECAUSE HE IS. TRULY.

and ugh. the tension. so much tension. it's such a wonderful story. i loved every second of it. i can't shut up about it. I've told my bestie all about this intricately woven world of 49 magics and all these intriguing characters u can't help but fall for (Lucah is gonna be my next downfall i KNOW.)

thank you @isabellebissonrouthier I'm so excited to finish ur book fr 😭😭

(here's its blog if you're curious to know more @49-ibr )

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The Mirror of Despair

A/N: This one has sat in my drafts for some time because it's super raw for me to share with the world. I'm posting it now because it might be therapeutic to do so.

TW: a super angsty, existential read. depressing and talks mainly about the pain of seeing your parents in yourself.

Every morning, I face the mirror, and every morning it betrays me.

It reflects not just my face but the ghostly imprints of my parents. The lines etched around my eyes, the downturn of my mouth, the very shape of my nose—they are not my own. They are borrowed, unwanted inheritances from the people I neither love nor respect.

Every day is a battle to break free. I scrutinize every action, every expression, dissecting each for traces of them. I attempt to walk differently, speak differently, to mold myself into something, anything, other than them.

But it’s an endless struggle, like trying to peel off my own skin. The harder I scrape, the deeper they seem embedded.

When tiredness blurs the lines of my control, there they are. My reflection smirks back with my mother’s cruelty, sighs with my father’s resignation.

Their bitterness lurks in the corners of my thoughts, their cynicism tainting my dreams. I strive to be kind, to be hopeful, but their shadows loom over my attempts, dragging me back into their darkness.

These are the legacies they left me, engraved deeper than any genetic code.

I am becoming them.

Despite my efforts, I am destined to morph into the very thing I loathe. It’s a slow, creeping transformation, one I can neither halt nor hasten. I see it in the way I argue, in the words I choose, in the silences I let stretch too long.

Others notice too. They comment on how much I look like my mother, how my laugh echoes my father’s. Each remark feels like a nail, pinning me closer to their likeness. It’s a constant, gnawing reminder that I am not, and may never be, my own person.

There is no escape.

I am doomed to be a perpetual echo of them.

I am their creation, their legacy, and perhaps, their final, cruel joke. The reflection in the mirror sneers back, a twisted parody of individuality.

I am them, and they are me, and that, I realize with a sinking dread, is the most horrifying truth of all.

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Out of Context Line Tag

Tagged by @cruelflesh (thank you for the tag and sorry it took me this long!)

Tagging @intotheseas (obviously), @noplsimastar and whoever else wants to join!

Here's my line tag from a side WIP I've been dabbling with lately called Phantom Whispers:

The friend of 8 years blamed everyone else for the misery in their life instead of doing something about it. Ava let the sound of clinking utensils and waiters shouting orders drown her out.   Why do I surround myself with such filth?   Ava took another sip. It was a nervous tick. She didn’t want to be thinking of such horrid things. Her mind couldn’t help but answer the void sometimes.   “You seem distracted?”  Hurry. Smile.   Ava shook her head, assuring her friend that she was still listening. Reluctantly Ava took their side, enabling their delusions that they weren't at fault. 

It's rough since it's a first draft lol but wtv :D

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The Day I Died (And Didn't Notice!)

Based on a prompt by @writing-prompt-s! It really tickled me funny so enjoy my take on it.

Prompt: You died the way you lived: having no clue what's going on. You are so clueless that you didn't even notice that you died and just got up and went to work like normal the next day.

Business as Usual

I died the way I lived: having no clue what's going on.

Seriously, I was the person who forgot their own birthday. So, naturally, the whole dying thing completely slipped past me. One moment I was trying to figure out why the elevator music in my office sounded like a dying cat, and the next... well, I was dead. But who has time for that?

The next morning, my alarm clock blared its usual obnoxious tune. I slapped the snooze button with my usual precision, groaning about another day in the trenches of corporate boredom.

I didn't notice the faint ethereal glow around my hands or the fact that I floated to the bathroom instead of walking. Ghostly bathroom habits, it turns out, are remarkably similar to the living kind.

The Commute

On my way to work, I passed through my usual routine: nodding at Mrs. Pigglywiggle as she walked her forty-seven Chihuahuas, grabbing a coffee from Pete's, and trying not to trip over my own feet. I did wonder why Pete's was empty, save for Pete himself, who looked rather pale.

"Morning, Pete!" I chirped, grabbing my coffee.

Pete blinked at me, a drop of coffee spilling onto his apron. "Uh, morning?"

"New look, huh? Pale chic?" I grinned. Pete just stared, and I figured he was finally taking my fashion advice to heart.

Work is Dead Boring

I arrived at the office and slipped into my cubicle, ready for another day of pretending to work while actually perusing cat videos. My coworkers, who usually ignored me, seemed especially distant today. Literally, they all kept their distance. It was like I had a force field around me.

I shrugged and turned on my computer. The screen flickered, then went dark. "Stupid piece of junk," I muttered, thumping it a few times. The screen flashed a message: ERROR: User Not Found.

"That's new," I said, squinting at the screen. I rebooted it, because when in doubt, reboot. But it stayed stubbornly black.

A Strange Meeting

Lunchtime rolled around, and I decided to hit the vending machines. My usual ham and cheese sandwich wasn’t doing it for me. As I reached for a bag of chips, my hand went right through the machine.

"Great, now even vending machines are against me," I grumbled. I looked around to see if anyone noticed, but everyone seemed too engrossed in their own lives—or too intent on avoiding mine.

That’s when Larry, the office prankster, walked up. "Hey, you going to the meeting?"

"What meeting?" I asked.

"The one with the Grim Reaper," he said with a grin. Larry loved his jokes.

"Sure, I'll bite. Where's this Grim Reaper meeting?" I played along.

Larry pointed down the hall. "Conference Room B. You can't miss it."

Meeting the Reaper

I strolled into Conference Room B, expecting to find Larry’s prank in full swing. Instead, there was a figure in a black cloak, complete with a scythe. His hood was down, revealing a surprisingly average face. He looked like he could have been an accountant.

"Take a seat," the Grim Reaper said, checking his clipboard. "Let's see, who do we have here?"

I blinked. "Uh, I'm here for the meeting?"

"Yes, yes," he muttered, flipping pages. "Ah, here you are. Charlie Thompson, right?"

"That's me," I said, sitting down. "So, what's this all about? Is this some new kind of employee evaluation?"

The Reaper looked at me over his glasses. "Charlie, you're dead."

I laughed. "Good one. Larry put you up to this?"

The Reaper sighed. "This is always the hardest part." He waved his hand, and the room shimmered. Suddenly, I was looking at myself, slumped over my desk, with a bunch of coworkers huddled around, looking horrified.

"Oh," I said, tilting my head. "So, that's why my computer didn't recognize me."

Adjusting to Death

The Reaper nodded. "It takes some getting used to."

I glanced at my ethereal hands. "So, what now? Is there like a ghost orientation or something?"

The Reaper chuckled. "Not exactly. But there are a few things you should know. For starters, haunting your old workplace isn't going to do you any good."

"Right," I said. "Guess I should move on, huh?"

"That would be wise," he said. "But don't worry. The afterlife isn't as bad as you might think. Plenty of cat videos, too."

Embracing the Afterlife

As the days turned into... well, whatever they turn into in the afterlife, I started getting the hang of things. Turns out, being dead isn't so different from being alive. Except for the whole corporeal body thing. And people finally started to notice me, albeit other dead people.

I even ran into Mrs. Pigglywiggle one day. "Fancy meeting you here," she said, her Chihuahuas swirling around her like a furry tornado.

"Yeah, small afterlife, huh?" I replied.

The Grim Reaper Returns

One day, as I was floating through what I called Ghost Starbucks (it wasn't really Starbucks, but it had that vibe), the Grim Reaper appeared again.

"Charlie," he said, looking a bit flustered. "We need to talk."

"Uh oh, am I in trouble?" I asked, sipping my ethereal coffee.

"Not exactly. There's been a mistake," he said, shuffling his papers. "Turns out, you're not supposed to be dead yet."

I nearly choked on my ghost coffee. "What?"

"Yeah, some mix-up in the paperwork. You're supposed to go back," he explained.

Chapter Nine: Back to the Living

In a flash, I was back in my body, blinking at the concerned faces of my coworkers. Larry was holding a bucket of water, ready to splash me.

"Charlie, you okay?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling the rush of life returning. "Yeah, I think so."

As everyone sighed in relief and patted me on the back, I couldn't help but chuckle. The Grim Reaper had a sense of humor after all.

Later that day, I got an email. It was from Pete, the coffee shop guy. "Welcome back," it said.

I smiled. Maybe being clueless wasn't so bad after all.

The Bright Side

And so, I returned to my life with a newfound appreciation for the little things. Like breathing. And not walking through walls. And understanding that sometimes, even death can be just another quirky chapter in the book of life.

But just in case, I keep an eye out for the Grim Reaper. You never know when he might drop by for a chat. Or another mix-up.

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not me honestly considering starting a side blog just to post random screenshot from my stardew valley gameplay 🙈🙈

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