#I JUST MANAGED TO GET ON AO3

[velidewrites]

The Daily Struggles Of An Art Student

Desperate to finish her male anatomy assignment before the deadline, Feyre Archeron finds a secluded corner in a cafe. Or so she thinks.

Pairing: Feysand

Tags: Modern AU, Artist!Feyre, Look folks I'm just going to say it: Feyre spends half of this fic looking up reddit [redacted] for a male anatomy assignment

Notes: Happy birthday the wonderful @the-lonelybarricade! I wrote you this definitely not unhinged one-shot as a little gift. Thank you for being such a great friend, and truly the most supportive person in this fandom. I cherish you!!

Read on AO3

Feyre was running out of time.

Deadlines, she decided, were really not her thing. What was that saying? “You can’t rush art?” Well, her professor at the New York Academy of Art would be inclined to disagree. Then again, Feyre wasn’t sure the blank page shining a soft, white light from her iPad could really count as “art.”

She sighed in frustration, shifting in her seat. As if the new angle could help, somehow. With exactly four hours and twenty minutes until she was to submit her assignment, the prospect of failing was quickly starting to look more and more like a reality. Feyre had always been bad at painting from memory, particularly when it came to capturing people. Her own cat, she could probably paint in minutes and be satisfied with the outcome. Or the view from her apartment. Or the honey-brown colour of her sister’s eyes, especially when she just saw Elain at dinner the other day.

Male anatomy, on the other hand…

Feyre needed a reference. Desperately.

It wasn’t unusual for an art student to spend hours on Pinterest, searching for the perfect pose, one that would be just right. Feyre had done it herself too many times to count. It was simply that…well, Pinterest could not provide a reference for everything. And Feyre would rather not use her own memory to capture a man’s physique in full.

She had just broken up with Tamlin, after all, and had very little interest in ever recalling their time together again. Lucky for her, he had moved to Boston last week to pursue his Master’s, never to bother her again. Hopefully.

Unfortunately, with Pinterest proving entirely hopeless, and Tamlin decidedly out of the picture, Feyre was left entirely out of options.

The worst thing about all this was that Feyre had only herself to blame.

There had been one option she simply pretended not to acknowledge, though she would have finished yesterday morning had it not been for her own stubbornness—or, as Nesta had called it, had she not been such a prude. Feyre certainly did not think of herself as one—it was just that…well.

Every morning, from 8 till 10:30 sharp, her class offered anatomy studies with a handful of volunteers from the student body posing for their life drawing. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they were completely nude, which was not something Feyre would have cared about in the slightest had their newest model not been Feyre’s best friend. And her sister’s new boyfriend.

Ever since she had told Lucien Vanserra the school was considering paying the volunteers for their efforts, his gaze lit up and, not even a day later, there he was, his name displayed proudly on the sign-up sheet. Feyre knew him long enough now to know the extra money in his pocket was just an excuse. Someone has to capture this body one way or another, Feyre, Lucien had told her a few days ago, a twinkle in his russet eye. She supposed he did make an interesting art subject, with the scar and all—but not nearly interesting enough to strut through the East Building proudly, letting both students and teachers alike gush on about his “cruel beauty.”

Elain, to her horror, seemed to support Lucien’s latest modelling endeavours wholeheartedly.

“He promised to bring a few of the sketches home,” her sister had told her excitedly at dinner. The best reaction Feyre could offer was a horrified, blinking stare.

It wasn’t that Lucien was lacking in the looks department—on the contrary, actually—but she’d always seen him as a brother, ever since the day he’d almost run her over on his motorcycle, her very first day as a college freshman. And so, for the past few days, Feyre would make sure to avoid the East Building like the plague.

Today, she ended up in a nearby campus cafe, a cozy spot for a senior art student seeking privacy, yet still crowded enough to make Feyre look over her shoulder every few minutes. She’d opted for a secluded corner near the restrooms, with no windows next to her table, just in case a nosy passerby caught a glimpse of what exactly Feyre was drawing. Or, rather, attempting to draw.

She glanced at her phone, an unpleasant sense of dread curling in her stomach once again as she realised twenty more minutes had passed. Had she really wasted all that precious time thinking about Lucien?

Feyre needed to come up with a solution, and fast. There was no way she was failing this class, not in her final year. She was planning to move to Paris next year and continue her education there—where better than the art capital of the world? She would not let a poor painting of a penis, of all things, ruin all of her plans and dreams for the future.

Relying on Pinterest for now, Feyre began sketching the unnamed man. His upper body posed no serious issues, and she found herself done with the clean lineart and three hours thirty minutes left to spare. The thighs, too, seemed to feature all the muscles in correct places, though upon further inspection, she had perhaps drawn them slightly too large for a regular, male specimen. Whatever. With Lucien as the current model, she doubted any of her classmates would submit perfectly proportionate sketches.

Good, Feyre decided. This was good. The only thing left for her to do now was to find a good reference for the final pièce de résistance. She could do this—there was no one around, after all, and she’d make sure her browser history would be wiped clean later. Ressina, her classmate from the Academy, liked to borrow Feyre’s iPad sometimes to try her skills at digital art—and Feyre wasn’t sure their friendship was well-established enough that she could explain without making a fool of herself.

With a deep, deep sigh, Feyre got over herself and fired up Reddit.

Well.

This was going to make things a whole lot easier.

It was honestly beyond her that this entire archive was out there, for free and simply waiting for her to download. Without wasting any more time, Feyre got to scrolling.

She hadn’t expected to be flooded with so many options, but soon enough, she found just the perfect reference—the angle matched exactly the pose she had already outlined, and from the ruler he’d so proudly displayed beside it, the man didn’t seem like he would mind. And so, with the image neatly placed in the corner of her canvas, Feyre began to add the sketch. Everything seemed to be coming together—and, her focus lost entirely to the penis before her, she was actually starting to believe she might just submit this thing in time.

“Friend of yours?”

“Shit!” Feyre jumped, pressing her iPad close to her chest as she whirled back.

The voice behind her—of course—turned out to be a man. The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

“Well?” he asked, eyes twinkling. Were they actually violet, or was the soft light pouring through the window just that spectacular?

Feyre felt her cheeks heating. “You know, it’s rude to invade other people’s privacy,” she told him, anger slowly replacing the embarrassment coiling in her chest.  Who was this man, this stranger, to question her?

He only seemed more amused, though he lifted a defensive hand. “Hey, I was just leaving the restroom,” he said, pointing back to the staircase behind. “It’s not my fault you’re right out here for all to see. Who’s invading whose privacy now, hmm?” Before Feyre opened her mouth to retort, the man added, “Oh, no need to apologise. Mind if I sit?”

And with that, he simply plopped down on the chair beside her.

The audacity. 

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t going to apologise,” she said, setting her now locked iPad on the table.

He ran a hand through his hair, raven waves soaking up the sunlight, and smiled again. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Anyway, this isn’t my friend,” Feyre said, hoping there was enough mockery in her tone to wipe that stupid grin off his handsome face. “It’s a project. For art school.”

“Ah, yes” he mused, drumming his long, slender fingers on the polished wood. “I could tell from how precise your strokes were.” Something about the way he said strokes made the heat in her face nearly boil over. Get it together, idiot! He leaned back in his seat, as if he could somehow tell exactly what Feyre was thinking. Then, he proclaimed, “You’re an artist.”

Alright, Feyre decided. Not entirely a prick, then. “I’m not sure I’d call myself that,” she admitted honestly. Not yet, at least.

“I would,” he said, the corner of his mouth curling slightly as he added, “I’d like to call you many things, actually. Let’s start with your name.”

There it was. Feyre couldn’t help but flirt in return. Prick or not, she liked his boldness—and his good looks certainly were no disadvantage. “You first,” she demanded.

He flashed her a wide, brilliant smile. “My favourite subject.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

“Rhysand,” he said. “But you, darling, can call me Rhys.”

Rhysand. The name was so unusual she almost didn’t register what he’d called her. Darling. It was then that she’d finally taken her eyes off his face long enough to take in the rest of him—the deep, English accent, lilting as though he wasn’t speaking to her but singing the smoothest melody.

Yeah—she really needed to get it together.

“What brings you to New York City, Rhysand?” she asked him, not giving him the satisfaction of using his clearly personal nickname yet. His eyes sparkled again, accepting the challenge.

He shrugged. “Research. The sights. Pretty girls drawing male genitalia at 1pm on a Tuesday.” Rhysand winked. “Greatest city in the world, huh?”

Feyre’s cheeks flushed again. “Research?” she questioned, desperate not to go back to that topic with a man she’d only just met.

Rhys chuckled. “Yes. I’m an astronomer—or about to be, at least.”

“Interesting.”

“It is,” he agreed, and she could’ve sworn actual stars flickered in his gaze with the words. “You’d be surprised just how much the night sky has to offer.”

“I paint it sometimes,” Feyre told him, unsure why she’d just admitted something that personal to a stranger. “Whenever I feel…down, I suppose.”

To her surprise, Rhys nodded. “I do the same.”

Her brows flicked up. “Paint?”

“I’m afraid I’m not that talented. No, I look up—watch the stars.”

Feyre smiled. “That actually sounds wonderful.”

Rhys angled his head. “You know, I haven’t had the chance to explore the New York sky yet. I could use some company.”

Something told her she was up for one hell of a first date. “Alright, Rhys,” Feyre said, his face lighting up triumphantly at the name. She chuckled, grabbing her iPad as she rose from her chair. “Meet me here at seven thirty tonight.”

“Wait!” he called after her. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” she teased. “I’m not sure I’m ready to part with darling.”

The stars in his eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think we’ll work something out.”

[strangersteddierthings]

The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

[nightyslibrary]

(A Short Fic About) A Normal Day With Your Double Mutated Brother

☆ Fandom: rottmnt (au by @heckitall )

☆ Warnings: Nothing!! Just fluff and the boys being silly :]

☆ Word Count: 1432

☆ AO3 Link: N/A

☆ Characters: Leo, Donnie, Mikey

Uhh so I might have written something inspired by Heckl's comics and drawings :] go check his comics/artwork out!! Hope you like it (and happy birthday!!) (Also if there is any mistake... well, lets say its because it is 1 am)

 When it came to playing video games the twins would always end up getting too invested in it, which either would turn up to them fixating on the game for hours or fighting over who could beat it in “the right way”. Even when the games were two player ones, they’d still do the same thing.

 Not so surprisingly, this didn’t change even when Donnie became twice his size. Instead now the boys were sitting in Leo’s room, Leo laying his back on Donnie and playing the new the Legend of Zelda game on their switch. Donnie was watching the screen with joy, his tail wagging, and at times chirping to Leo.

 “See? I can do the puzzles quite well.” Leo said without looking away from the screen. “I had told you.”

 Donnie chirped as a response, as if making fun of Leo.

 Leo turned to him, “Just because I got stuck it doesn’t mean I am not good with them. Now let’s go back to the depths, since somebody thinks I can’t handle it.”

 The double mutated turtle smirked, making turtle sounds, before noticing something on the screen and pointing.

 “Wha- oh shi--!” He yelped as he moved with Donnie’s arms holding him, making various sounds in the meantime. As Leo turned back his attention to the game, bleeping as he continued playing it with Donnie commenting at times once again. Just like before Donnie’s situation, as if nothing had changed. Everybody in the lair would agree this was nice.

 Neither of them was sure how long had passed when Mikey entered with a smile on his face. “Are you two still playing Tears of the Kingdom?” He asked as he approached them.

 “Yep.” Leo replied.

 “It’s been five hours.” Mikey said.

 “Uh-huh.”

 “Which means nobody would say anything if I interrupted you for very important reasons.” He grinned.

 “Wrong.” Leo responded.

 “Don’t think Raphie or dad would agree.” Mikey said, knowing very well that he was right and the two would hear about how they shouldn’t sit down and play video games, forgetting to take care of themselves such as eating. Not to mention how Raph would take this to his advantage and get the switch for himself, not letting Leo play for the rest of the day.

 The slider sighed and starred at his younger brother, knowing very well that Mikey had won. He saved his game and put the switch aside. Meanwhile, Donnie huffed from behind. “Soooo tell us about whatever that is very important?” Leo asked as he got up.

 “I was thinking about how long the lair has been the same, and about how nice it would be to redecorate it.” Mikey explained.

 “You’re the artist Mike, not us.” Leo pointed out.

 “Weeeellll, I wasn’t only thinking about art. Remember the Christmas lights?”

 Leo squinted at Mikey. “You want to decorate the lair with Christmas lights.”

 “Yes!”

 “In August.”

 “Yeah!”

 “…”

 “…”

 “You’ll ignore Halloween?!” Leo gasped, a bit dramatically.

 “We can have Halloween later on!” Mikey retorted. “I just want to have some bright lights around, and maybe a few other new stuffs. A colorful lair wouldn’t hurt anyone, instead it would bring joy! Also, it is for art and creativity!”

 “So, you mean you want to,” Leo snickered, and his brothers knew what was coming. “Lighten up the mood.”

 Mikey groaned, while Donnie growled, both hating the pun. Leo giggled at his own joke, proud of it.

 “Ignoring Leo’s terrible pun for my sanity, all I am saying is it would be nice if you could help.” The youngest said.

 “Eh, sure.” Leo shrugged, not that he could say no. Donnie got on his feet too, careful to not accidentally knock anything down. He was still getting used to his new size.

 With Mikey’s lead they walked out, heading to where Mikey already had the boxes filled with Christmas lights. “We can start from here, and then move to the living room. Leo, can you get the lower parts done?”

 “Call it done already.” The slider winked as he walked towards a box.

 Mikey joined him, grabbing lights from a different box, “Donnie can you help me? I need to reach the higher parts.”

 Donnie chirped as he leaned for Mikey to climb on his shoulders, just like how he did with Raph. He carefully climbed and then patted Donnie’s shoulder to confirm he was ready. Donnie churred happily, he stood up again.

 So, they began redecorating the lair with the lights, leaving some walls empty so Mikey could draw on them. In the meantime, they chatted, talking about various things and unimportant stuff. Filling the silence with happy chatter. Mikey would talk about his next art projects, then mention something that inspirited him, Leo would ask about it, and the conversation would go on.

 It was just like every single time they spent time together, yet it was everything Donnie could ask for. The chatter of his brothers, Mikey’s unexpected ideas, Leo’s dumdum jokes… It was comforting for him.

 So, comforting that---

 CHURRR

 Leo and Mikey stopped talking, looking at Donnie with surprise and glee. Donnie confusedly looked Leo and then at Mikey. As silence was the only answer, Donnie realized what he just had done. His brothers’ exclamation confirmed his fear:

 “OH MY GOSH!!!” Mikey grinned as he jumped down to see Donnie better. “DID YOU DO THAT?!”

 “DID YOU JUST CHURR?!” Leo wheezed.

 Donnie chirped a lot, trying his best in his situation. It didn’t help that Leo kept laughing, and Mikey kept saying he sounded like a happy cat. Maybe if Donnie was his not double mutated self, he would’ve acted cooler and kept calm. But he was not and all he could do chirping. Which frustrated him even more, resulting him running out of the room.

 Leo and Mikey were quick to follow him.

 Donnie had lay under a pile of clothes, most of them being his hoodies and some of Raph’s sweaters that Raph had helped him wear (and later Donnie hadn’t let Raph get them back) in his room. His tail was visible, wagging angrily.  

 The two brothers approached carefully, not to startle him. Mikey looked at Leo, unsure what to do or say. He was feeling a bit bad for Donnie, but he still couldn’t help thinking that he behaved like a cat. Leo wasn’t feeling much different. He knew that he shouldn’t have laughed that much, while Donnie was still upset with his double this whole situation.

 Leo was first to speak, “Uh hey Dee, mind if we join you?”

 A growl.

 “Aww come on, we got something to show you.” He said cheerfully, Mikey looked at him confusedly. The slider winked at him, meaning he had a plan.

 Donnie didn’t leave the pile, but got his head out of it, enough to be able to see them. Leo grinned, and then chirped. Donnie’s eyes widened, surprised, and confused.

 “I thought you had stopped doing it and were unable to anymore.” Mikey squinted at Leo.

 “Well, maybe Donnie’s chirping has helped me figure it out, couldn’t it be?” He spoke.

 Before Mikey could say anything and tell his disbelief, Donnie chirped.

 Leo turned his attention back to him, “I have absolutely no idea what I am saying though, but- chirp!”

 “Are you sure about not knowing what you’re saying?” Mikey questioned.

 “Chiirp.” Leo smirked.

 This seemed to lift Donnie’s mood a bit though. His tail was wagging in the happy way, and he began chirping again. Mikey joined too, since he never had hidden the fact that he still could chirp. Soon the room was filled with chirping of every sort, and the snickering of Mikey and Leo among them at times when one of them made a funny sounding one.

 As the boys' conversation changed with the passing time, Leo turned to Mikey. "About the Christmas lights... you're definitely up to something." He said. "Could it be a prank against Raph?"

 "Please, I would never." Mikey responded, obviously guilty. He didn't need to say it to confirm Leo's guess when he happily stimmed the way he'd do when he was excited for something.

 "Get ready for a surprised Raph yelp, Dee." Leo looked at the clock on his phone. Then looked at Donnie. "He'd wake up any moment now."

 Donnie chirped in response, letting Leo pet his back. Something that kept Donnie relaxed, they'd discovered.

 Then they heard the surprised yelp, as Leo had guessed:

 "ITS CHRISTMAS?!"

 Leo and Donnie turned to Mikey, who was giggling. "Brumation prank," He grinned. "Never gets old."

[bahoreal]

just saw some ppl on my tl who didnt know what sexy times with wangxian is.... time is healing

[theflyingfeeling]

💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

.

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

~

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia. 

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him. 

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him. 

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet. 

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself. 

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

[silawastaken]

not to get sappy but I've never actually done an april fools prank before and I was actually having such a shit day before i was convinced into scheming up a little prank and the reactions were everything and I'm so happy this was my first time trying one because I had so much fun and it seems stupid but it's so weirdly reassuring and i actually really needed that so idk thanks for letting me trick you i guess

i know it's stupid but really thank you for indulging my childish nonsense not a lot of people do that and i actually really really needed it

y'all can blame @hyperobsessed for it too because I forgot it was april fools until they told me, and they were convincing me to do it and adding ideas so yeah it's their fault

[lilflowerpot]

Hi! Hope ur well, just wondering how the galra would feel about ivf and surrogate mothers and such things.

Also, would diabazaal have had any other religious groups or did they have one decided belief

I've actually addressed both Imperial surrogacy, and the Empire's major religious groups (along with a follow-up regarding various funerary rites) before!

I know my blog has rather a lot to comb through at this point, but for those of you not in the know, I //am// a meticulous tagger, so you can notably narrow down my posts to just the worldbuilding ones if you take a gander at #galra history & culture!

[drewsaturday]

every time i want to get back into trollhunters i just get sad because the actual show is SUCH a slog when the bits i care about take up so little screentime... and it's also just such a fucking slog either way

[mostlikelytofangirl]

If you don't mind me sharing a head canon, I think wrh would be the kind to have extreme moods and I thing meng yao would have been very good at handling that

A talent that served him later in Lanling haha

Hey anon! Thank you for sharing your headcanon with me, I'm so sorry I took this long in replying T-T. But this gave me such plot bunnies that I had to produce a litte fic 💕

I just love this idea of Qishan being the best training ground for How to deal with a pissy sect leader, except that MY can actually please and pacify WRH, unlike a certain father of his and much less said father's wife :'))))))

Anyways! Here:

[hum--hallelujah]

something in the static - Danger Days/America's Suitehearts crossover

-

He's been outside of himself for so long now he's not sure who he is anymore. Anytime he tries to think about it his head swirls painfully, confusing him even more. He remembers in snippets: being pushed aside, his head hitting something hard, the smell of noxious fumes. He can't put it all together, though. He thinks he's lost. He thinks he's lost his mind.

The desert doesn't help. Everything looks the same, when it isn't all blurred together by dizziness. He remembers running. That's all. He can't run anymore, though, he can barely even walk.

He doesn't know how long he lies in the sand. It's soft, as long as he doesn't let it suffocate him. Shapes form and fade away in front of his eyes, like ghosts or a mirage. People he knows, or used to know. His parents, who he hasn't seen since he signed the paperwork that took him to the research hospital. Teachers. The old legacy professor who wrote the words of an ancient oath on his arm and told him to memorize it before it washed away. The patient, or prisoner, who was his last case. Hands reaching out for him.

He cries out, startled, as this last hallucination turns out to be real. Someone's kneeling next to him, rolling him onto his back, gloved hands clumsily checking him over for injuries. It's too bright to tell, but he thinks the person has two mouths. "Woah, hey, chill, it's okay, I'm trying to help you-" says the person's voice, sounding far away in the mess of his head. "How long've you been out here, dude?"

"Huh?" Is all he can manage in response. He feels like he's about to pass out, on the very edges of consciousness. Everything is confusing.

The person hovering over him, a boy with dark hair covering his eyes and two mouths covering his face, something which simply doesn't make any sense, reaches out with one hand and sticks it down the neck of his shirt. "Oh shit, dude, you're really hot," the boy with two mouths mumbles, almost to himself. With a hand over his collarbone for reasons he can't figure out, he can feel his heart beating hard. "We've gotta get you outta the sun, man, you're stroking out."

The boy with two mouths has some kind of lisp. He thinks that's funny, for some reason. He can't put a finger on it. He giggles, a weak sound that registers as foreign even to him.

"Yeah, sure, okay," the boy with two mouths mutters, coming around behind him to prop him into a sitting position. He makes a sound, maybe a whimper, at how dizzy this makes him. There's a hand still on his back. "A'ight, just sit there for a second. Here-" the boy reaches around himself and pulls a sealed bottle of water from a bag slung across his body. He hands it over, but he can't... he wishes he could remember who he is. There's a flash of white lab coats, the idea of something dressed in yellow on a television set before those were black and white. He also can't manage to open the bottle.

The boy with two mouths sighs and takes the bottle, cracks the lid, and hands it back. "Slow sips," he says, with his head tilted almost curiously. "You're so new, huh?"

"New to what?" He mumble-asks in reply, after taking a hesitant drink of the water. He surprises himself. He didn't even know he was still capable of coherent speech anymore.

The boy with two mouths looks surprised too. "The Zones," he answers. "You can't have been out here more than a day or two," he adds. "Not like this. I'd have found a corpse instead of-" the boy with two mouths gestures at him up and down.

He frowns at the idea of only a couple days. It feels like he's always been like this. But the gesture is a reminder that he exists, is breathing and heart beating. It makes him shudder.

"Think you can walk?" Asks the boy with two mouths.

He hums noncommittally. The world spins violently when he tries to stand up, but the other boy holds him up. He wonders if this is still a hallucination, some dying dream of not dying alone. He thinks his brain is boiling. Brain soup. He tries to laugh at that, but it comes out as a wheeze.

"A'ight, there's a bunch of caves and stuff just over there, lots of shade, think you can make it?" The boy points with the hand that isn't holding up his almost dead weight, and it's strange to think that he's been lying here dying so near to shelter. He'd thought the rocky outcroppings were a mirage. He can't tell apart what's real and what's not anymore. "Come on, buddy."

No one's ever called him buddy before, he doesn't think. But maybe he's making that up. He doesn't think he's ever had friends. Is the boy with two mouths a friend?

"What's... who are you?" He slurs faintly, nearly collapsing into sudden shade. It feels so good. The boy lets him go and he lays on his back, staring up at strange staticky shapes in the rock above him. The soup in his head makes it swirl, like the old analog television he used to watch as a kid. Top hats and bowties and colors, oh my...

The boy with two mouths smiles, and it's an eerie thing to see through blurry eyes and a half-gone mind. It's mesmerizing, really. "I go by Mr. Sandman," he says.

"Bring me a dream," he hums in reply, the faintest notes he heard in childhood playing in the back of his brain. "Make him the cutest that I've ever seen..." He hears it in his mother's voice, as little as he can recall it.

"Is that an actual song?" Asks the boy with two mouths, who then after a pause taps the hand that is still holding a bottle of water as if to remind him to drink it. In a fit of sudden momentary lucidity, as well as the hope that the shadows provide, instead he pours half the bottle over his own head. The boy makes a clicking sound. "...Good idea."

He closes his eyes. The static is starting to make him feel sick. He hopes this is real. If not, he's probably dead already.

"Hey," says the boy with two mouths, shuffling over to sit beside his prone form. "Stay awake if you can, alright? The sun'll be going down soon, I think you'll be fine. But like... stay awake, huh? You didn't answer my question, anyway."

He doesn't remember the question. "Huh..?" He responds eloquently.

The boy with two mouths bumps his leg with a foot. "That thing you were singing, with my name. Is that an actual song? I didn't think the City had music."

He racks his brain for an answer in words that he can manage to push out of his mouth. It feels more like stirring up sludge than anything else. "We don't," he murmurs, eyes still closed. "But... yes. It's real, I think." As real as he can pin down, at least, with reality all muddled around him.

"Cool," says the boy with two mouths. "Hey. I told you my name, so can you tell me yours?"

"I don't remember," he whispers. It feels like confessing a crime. He wants his name back. He really wants his name back. He tries. It's so, so close. He just can't let it go. "I'm... Ben. Benjamin." He finally says, before his sluggish mind even catches up to the fact that he remembered it. He feels himself grinning. This is a victory, he thinks.

"Ok. Works for now," says the boy with two mouths. "In the Zones, though, you're supposed to pick a new one. It's... renewal." He settles on the last word almost reverently. "When you come outta the City, you're making yourself new."

That's not what it feels like to Ben. He feels dreamily like he's clenching his own name in his fist, unwilling to let go of it. His head feels light. If he opened his eyes again, he knows he would be overcome by static. He doesn't feel real. His name is the one thing that makes him real. He flicks his eyes open and for a moment in the falling shadows and the texture of sand and rocks, the boy with two mouths looks as if he's on the other side of a screen. Like that old analog color television show from Ben's childhood. Was that why he wanted to become a doctor? All the ways the color helped people in an unreal reality... his own life is cut through with that, like a kaleidoscope.

Even as a child, he saw himself in that character. Maybe that's who he's supposed to be. Stuck in the static and the swirling of his mind and the reality around him, he fumbles again for a name, but this one isn't his. Neon cutting yellow, some crazed hope in his eyes. He swallows hard around a dry throat and unclenches his fists. "Doctor..." he says, and has to stop to clear his throat. He tastes sand and thinks it's static. "Dr. Benzedrine," he says, as the boy with two mouths stares at him sidelong.

"Call me Dr. Benzedrine."

[ohmyfairies]

Reading oneshots that are heart wrenching is so weird what do you mean my heart broke and pieced itself back together then broke again in a span of 20 minutes???? Why am I crying on the bus??????

[indigopoptart]

HELLO ALL. JUST LETTING YALL KNOW REAL QUICK THAT STAMPS IS GONNA UPDATE LATER THAN USUAL. I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE A HAND INJURY.

[orcelito]

My list of "reasons why this update is so late" for the next ITNL update just keeps growing longer

The next thing tacked on will be "I got strep throat (or something like it) so bad that I ended up literally bleeding from the throat :)"

Suffice to say, this is going to be an interesting summary of my life over the past few months 😂

[peachsayshi]

thinking about a few things regarding my writing, and I decided that I won’t continue to post on-going series (my longer stories) on Tumblr anymore. I am planning on only keeping links to AO3 and if you would like to read any of the series you can find them on there!

short drabbles and requests will be the only works I update on Tumblr x 

[dulcewrites]

One day I’ll manage to finish osftsb :(

[masqueradeoftheguilty]

on god i need to find another interest outside of genshin the fandom isolation bcs of the rampant leaks is gonna kill me