#I might try to work on it a bit today actually...

[ducksido]

Idk if you accept requests but I just read your "accidentally proposing" fic with Octavinelle, Savanaclaw and Diasomnia and had an idea!! (I have Savanaclaw in mind specifically but it might work with others?)

So what if to beast/mer/etc men, biting/marking your lover is basically like a wedding ring. A symbol to others that you're claimed (and that both parties felt safe enough to be marked that way). So imagine if the boys are already kinda crushing on Yuu/reader only for them to take their jacket off or something and reveal like a big ole bite mark on their shoulder (or wherever) and they get all mopey thinking their already claimed but in reality they just got bit by something back from their world and the scar stuck

(Inspired partially by my dad, who has a big bite mark on his arm that everyone thinks is a tattoo. it's not. Just an old dog bite)

(damn your dad sounds cool)

Savanaclaw

Setting: The Savanaclaw boys have been pining for you, and today, you're just casually stripping your jacket off after PE class, revealing a decent-sized bite scar on your shoulder.

They freeze.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s eyes lock onto the mark and he goes deathly quiet. His tail flicks. His ears flatten just a bit. Internally?

"Of course. Figures. I finally meet someone who doesn’t annoy me and they’re already spoken for."

He sulks hard. You notice him going distant, brushing you off when you try to chat later. It’s not until days later—when he mutters, "Your mate let you walk around unguarded like that?"—that you blink and go,

"Mate? Oh, no, a dog bit me when I was ten. Real jerk. Still got the scar."

Leona’s head snaps up. His ears twitch.

"Wait… that’s not a claiming mark?"

Cue one (1) very smug Leona by the next morning, mysteriously returning to sitting too close again.

Jack Howl

Jack actually drops the water bottle he was holding when he sees the scar. His eyes widen and then avert—immediately. He turns pink at the tips of his ears.

"Oh. I—I didn’t know you were already marked. Sorry."

He becomes very formal, very stiff. Starts calling you “prefect” again instead of your name. You finally confront him, a bit heartbroken at the sudden coldness.

"You’ve been weird since PE, what gives?"

"...I just didn’t want to overstep. That kind of scar usually means you belong to someone."

When you tell him it’s an old wound from a totally mundane dog bite, he short circuits. Like, tail-wagging-involuntarily level of flustered.

"I—I see! That makes sense! You—you should be more careful, it looked real... um, real meaningful."

Now he can't stop glancing at your shoulder and getting flustered.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Tch. Lucky bastard, whoever bagged ya.”

He’s a mix of bitter and resigned—still flirty, but with a new sad little edge. Keeps joking like,

“Too bad you’re taken. Coulda had fun.”

When you finally ask what the hell he means, he gestures at the scar like, duh.

“That’s a mark. You don’t just give or get one of those unless you’re real serious.”

You: “That was a chihuahua. It bit me because I stole its hotdog.”

He stares.

“...A chihuahua did that?” “Yeah.” “And here I was mourning a relationship that never even existed. You owe me emotional compensation, y’know!”

Back to flirting. With vengeance.

OCTAVIANS:

Setting: You’re helping out in the Lounge. The uniform jacket’s getting hot, so you slip it off behind the bar… and your shirt collar slips just enough for a very visible, very real-looking bite scar to be seen by two (2) nosy eels and one (1) devastated octomer.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul freezes mid-shaker pour. You don’t notice—it’s just a quick glimpse—but Azul does. And his brain short circuits.

"A mark that deep... that shape... it’s deliberate. Ritualistic. They’re already bound?"

He’s devastated—but covers it up with grace. Or tries to. He gets very formal, colder. You catch him staring at your shoulder more than once with that complicated emotion you can’t name.

He’s too polite to ask directly—until the heartbreak gets to him.

“You’re in a binding, aren’t you?”

You: “Huh?”

“The bite mark on your shoulder. Among merfolk, that symbolizes an eternal commitment.”

You: “Oh! Nah. That’s just from a dog that chomped me when I was a kid. I kicked him in the face.”

Azul.exe has stopped working.

“...You what—?”

Goes beet red and storms into his office to scream into a pillow. You later find your drink on the house, labeled ‘thanks for the heart attack’.

Jade Leech

Jade smiles when he sees the scar. But his eyes go half-lidded, calculating. He suddenly speaks softer. Steps farther back. Less teasing, more… respectful distance.

“My, I wasn’t aware you were already bound. Forgive me if my prior behavior overstepped.”

You: “Bound to what now??”

He gestures subtly to your shoulder, like it’s obvious.

“A bite mark like that, well… among certain species, it’s not given lightly. It would be considered rude to compete for the affection of one already ‘marked.’”

Cue your laugh.

“Oh that? I was eleven. Some mutt thought my lunch was his.”

Jade pauses… then grins, slow and sharp.

“Is that so? How very fortunate. In that case… I wonder how your skin scars. Hypothetically, of course.”

You're not sure if that’s a flirt or a threat. Probably both.

Floyd Leech

“...Huh?”

He just blinks at the mark when he sees it. Then squints real hard. Then stops talking to you.

Like, full Floyd shutdown mode. No nicknames. No glomps. Just grumpy silence. You ask him what’s wrong, and he shrugs you off like:

“Nothin’. Don’t talk to taken people. It’s boring.”

You practically have to wrestle the truth out of him. When he finally gestures at the mark, you laugh so hard you snort.

“That? Nah, that’s from a dog bite. We were playing tug-of-war and he missed the toy and got my shoulder instead. It’s just a scar.”

“Whaaat?? That’s it??”

Floyd immediately perks up. Grabs your shoulders and spins you around like:

“So you’re not somebody’s shrimp? Heh. Good. I hate leftovers.”

Later bites you (playfully) and says he wants to "make it official."

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was just enjoying your presence—he always is. You pull off your hoodie to reveal a bite mark on your upper arm and— He stares.

The air around him tightens. He doesn’t speak at first. Just… quietly steps back. His green eyes dim.

“...You are claimed.”

He says it like a funeral eulogy.

You blink. “Claimed?? What are you talking about?”

“That mark. You accepted a fae bond.”

You laugh. “Wait, this?” You twist your arm to show him properly. “That’s from a feral raccoon. He got me through a screen door.”

...

Malleus goes silent. Then he laughs—one of those rare, rich, real ones.

“You truly are fascinating, Child of Man. A sacred mark... from a trash beast.”

And now he won’t stop teasing you about it.

“Shall I give you a proper one, to replace the raccoon’s?”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia recognizes the bite mark instantly—and what it would mean if it were real. His smile drops for a moment. A beat of quiet heartbreak.

“Oh… you’ve already given yourself to another?”

He masks it fast—reverts to his cheerful, mischievous self. But the sharpness in his tone dulls.

“You should’ve told us! We’d have sent you a proper gift, you know. A token for the bound.”

You: “Lilia, I got this bite scar from a goose. I was five. It hated my jacket.”

“...A goose?” “An evil goose.”

A beat. Then he laughs so hard he nearly levitates.

“You poor thing! Bitten by a beast of chaos!” “You mean the goose?” “No. The jacket.”

He’s overjoyed, suddenly affectionate again, now plotting how to actually mark you with fae tradition. You may have unleashed something.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek screams internally the moment he sees it. He immediately turns away, face twisted.

“I see. You have already pledged loyalty elsewhere.”

Goes full formal mode. Loud. Respectful. Heartbroken.

“I WAS A FOOL TO BELIEVE—TO HOPE—THAT YOU WERE UNBOUND!”

You’re like: “Dude. What?”

He dramatically points at the scar.

“That! You wear it openly!”

You: “Oh, you mean my shoulder scar? A horse bit me.”

Sebek.exe blue screens.

“A… horse?” “He didn’t like carrots. I was five.”

...

He gets so red. Immediately bows in apology. Starts yelling at the horse retroactively. Gives you his coat. Declares he’ll train to bite harder than any equine.

Silver

Silver notices the scar. He gets very quiet. Thoughtful.

Later that day, he gently asks:

“Did it hurt when you were claimed?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“The mark. It’s permanent. You must’ve trusted them deeply.”

You laugh. “No, no—Silver, I got that from a neighbor’s dog. He panicked during fireworks.”

Silver: “Oh.”

...Then he stares at the sky like it personally betrayed him.

“I thought I missed the moment you gave your heart away...”

You pat his shoulder, and he very gently, very subtly leans into it—maybe hoping he could be the one to earn that mark someday.

[nottodaysari]

Wonderwall

Chapter one- directions?

Well, shit.

I stared at my phone like it had personally betrayed me. Dead. Of course it was dead. And of course I was stranded with a half-hour walk to a restaurant I couldn’t find in a city I barely knew. The only thing missing was dramatic rain to complete the scene.

I glanced up and scanned the street, hoping for a miracle—maybe someone with a working phone, a teleportation device, or at least a caffeine boost. No luck. Just strangers rushing by, honking cars, and my social anxiety ramping up like it was training for the Olympics.

Then I saw him.

Tall. Ridiculously attractive. Blue eyes with main-character energy. Hair like he was in a shampoo commercial. Fantastic. A hot guy, just what I needed while looking like I'd lost a fight with the wind.

Whatever. Desperate times.

“Hey! Excuse me?” I called out, speed-walking toward him like I might combust if he ignored me.

He turned. Raised eyebrows. Mild curiosity. Definitely smug.

“Yeah?” he said. Voice smooth. The charming kind of cocky.

“My phone died. I’m totally lost. I’m trying to get to a place called Salsa’s—it’s a restaurant, not a dance class, though I’d probably fail at either—and I have zero idea where I’m going. And talking to strangers isn’t exactly in my comfort zone, but here I am.”

He smiled. “Damn. Breathe, Speed Racer.”

Right. Oxygen.

I exhaled and gave him an awkward smile. “Sorry. Minor meltdown.”

“You’re fine. I’m actually headed to Salsa’s, if you want to walk with me.”

“You’re kidding. Seriously?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a lifesaver. I might actually love you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I’m joking. Mostly. But thanks.”

We started walking. I shoved my phone in my jacket pocket like it was the real villain here.

“So, how far is this place?”

“About thirty minutes.”

I groaned. “Perfect.”

We walked in silence for a bit. It got awkward fast, so I did what I always do—talked to fill it.

“So, what’s your name, mystery guy?”

“Matt. You?”

“Mhia. With an H.”

He blinked. “Where’s the H?”

“Ask my mom. She wanted to be creative. Starbucks has never recovered.”

He laughed. “I like it. Unique.”

“I aim to confuse.”

He gave me a playful look. “Are you always this dramatic or just today?”

“Depends. Are you always this confident or were you born that way?”

“Touché.”

“Thanks. I balance sarcasm and sincerity pretty well.”

He smirked. “You meeting someone at Salsa’s or just wandering Vegas like a sitcom character?”

“Meeting a friend. She ditched me to flirt with a bartender. I respect the strategy.”

Matt chuckled. “I’m meeting my brothers. They’re probably still at the hotel trying to become a boy band.”

“How many brothers do you have?"

“Two.”

“And you’re here for work?”

“Kind of. We make videos. Social media stuff.”

I paused. “So… influencers?”

He shrugged. “We prefer ‘internet personalities.’”

I gave him a look. “So if I trip, it’s going on TikTok?”

“Only if it’s hilarious.”

“Fair.”

We were almost at the restaurant, and weirdly, I didn’t want the walk to end. He was easy to talk to, which honestly seemed unfair. Tall, attractive, funny, charming? Suspicious.

“So what about you?” he asked. “Anything scandalous?”

“I’m a receptionist at a gym,” I said. “Living the dream.”

He nodded like that was impressive. “Free protein bars and front-row seats to gym drama. Nice.”

“You’d be shocked how many shirtless guys think mid-deadlift flirting is effective.”

“Let me guess. One of them wore toe shoes?��

I blinked. “Okay, creepy accurate.”

We both laughed as we stepped into Salsa’s. The place smelled like heaven and poor decisions. He held the door open.

“Chivalry isn’t dead, huh?”

“Not while I’m around.”

“Cocky.”

“Confident.”

“Debatable.”

We got in line and I looked at him. “Let me cover your food. You saved me from wandering into a dive bar and crying.”

“No chance. I’m paying. For your food, at least.”

I grinned. “How generous. However will I repay you?”

He smiled. “Maybe with your number?”

I laughed. “Maybe. But only if you don’t order something weird.”

“Tacos okay?”

“Tacos are a love language.”

“Then I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Solid choice. What do you want to drink?”

“Root beer.”

I blinked. “What are you, ten?”

He gasped like I insulted his family. “Root beer is elite. Don’t judge me.”

I held up my hands. "Smile and nod, smile and nod…”

He laughed, and I joined in without thinking. We grabbed our food and sat across from each other in a booth.

As we are and we talked and talked until there was no food left on our plates and no liquid left in our cups. "Matt thanks for this really great meal, I have to go now" I said in a sad tone.

His smile immediately faded and and he looked down at his phone for a moment, that moment was the longest it had been quiet between us. "Mhia, can I get your number?" He asked handing me his phone opened to new contacts.

"of course, you better text me though" I said in a joking tone but completely serious. "Oh you're gonna regret saying that, one day you're gonna beg for me to stop texting you" I rolled my eyes and started typing in my number.

I handed him his phone back and took a step so I was directly next to him I bent down and kissed him on the cheek "bye matt". His cheeks flushed and he spoke in a slightly higher pitch "bye mhia".

I sprinted back to the hotel like my life depended on it. In my head, all I could think was: the sooner I charge my phone, the sooner he might text me.

God, I hope he texts me.

Matt wasn’t just attractive—he was the whole package. Funny, easy to talk to, and somehow, it felt like our personalities just clicked. It was rare. Weird. Kind of amazing.

I rushed into the hotel lobby and made a beeline for the elevators. Naturally, they were taking forever, moving at the speed of a dramatic pause in a soap opera.

Ariana was going to be proud of me. Matt was the first guy I’d shown actual interest in in weeks. Months, maybe. Something about him just hit different—like he’d been dropped into my life by accident, or fate, or some very generous matchmaking algorithm.

As soon as the elevator dinged open, I speed-walked to my room, too distracted to pay attention to where I was going. Which was exactly how I crashed—full force—into someone.

The impact knocked me clean off balance, and I stumbled backward, landing on the hotel hallway carpet that had definitely seen better days.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” I said, brushing hair out of my face. I looked up—and froze.

Two guys stood in front of me. Both tall. Both very familiar-looking. In fact, they looked so much like Matt, I half-wondered if I’d hit my head harder than I thought.

“Am I hallucinating?” I muttered.

One of them bent down, offering a hand. “Are you okay?”

I must’ve had a ridiculous expression on my face, because he glanced back at his twin—triplet, I assumed—and raised a brow like he wasn’t sure what he’d just gotten himself into.

I blinked, still processing. “Wait… are you guys related to a guy named Matt?”

The one kneeling let out a low chuckle. His brother mumbled something I couldn’t catch.

“Yeah, he’s our brother,” he said, helping me up.

“Oh, okay.” I dusted myself off. “I just talked to him at a restaurant. Can you tell him Mhia says hi?”

It came out so fast I barely understood myself. They both looked at me like I’d started speaking in tongues.

“Uh, sure,” the guy said, half-shrugging. He glanced at his brother again, and they shared a silent look—part confusion, part amusement.

“Well… have a great day,” the standing one said, already turning to walk away.

I didn’t even have time to reply before they disappeared down the hall.

I finally reached my room and collapsed onto the bed, phone already plugged in and charging like it owed me.

Now all I could do was wait.

I really, really hope he texts.

A/N- omg I'm finally done with the first chapter and I think this is decent! Tagging all my fav blogs cuz free will exists: @theyluvivi @sturniolohohoho @sturns-mermaid @tits4matt @chrisspussygang @riowritesitall @scorpio1205 @sweeethrt @stvrniolostan @dolliraez @ariieeesworld @oopsiedaisydeer @delilahsturniolo @starrii-sturns @chrismalfoy @owensbabygirl @sweetoothgirl @y3sterdaysproblem @phone4pills @ifwdominicfike @vanteguccir

[noahwylie]

I wanna lay out everything about the robbycollins relationship because the timeline is confusing and they fascinate me

Explicit canon info:

Adamson died in September 2020.

The single shift takes place in September 2025.

Dana tells Collins that Robby hasn’t worked this day in four years because it’s the anniversary of Adamson’s death, and that he might be a little prickly that day, but to give him a pass because he’s still blaming himself for it.

Collins is in her 4th year of residency, which means (if they go by how residents usually start their year in July) she started as an intern in July 2022.

Collins says “We [her and Robby] dated, briefly, a million years ago. Never again.”

At some point during this brief dating period, Robby got her pregnant.

Collins “gave up on him.”

She aborted without telling him because she wasn’t ready to be a mom and wasn’t even sure about the relationship.

He never knew until she told him.

Collins has done IVF on her own at least twice since then.

Two of the gossipiest nurses, who were working in the ER at the time of their relationship, don’t appear to know that Robby and Collins had a relationship at all.

Apocryphal info (stuff the creators have said but isn’t explicit canon)

This is Collins’s second career.

Robby’s relationships tend to last around six weeks because he has a hard time opening up to people emotionally.

Adamson’s death was part of the reason Robby and Collins broke up.

So based on this, I’m going to make some inferences. This is all technically my headcanoning, but it is based on the above info.

For Adamson’s death to affect their relationship, they were probably dating in the second half of 2020, maybe early 2021; meaning Collins was likely an MS3 when she and Robby were dating and not his direct employee. Collins’s statement that they “dated briefly” lines up well with Noah’s assessment that Robby’s relationships have an expiration date of about six weeks. (Since he was obviously with Janey for much longer than that, I assume that relationship took place entirely before Adamson’s death; and therefore, that death is likely a major reason his relationships no longer last beyond two months.) I assume also that Collins is not aware of the significance of Adamson’s death to Robby, because Dana has to explicitly warn her about why Robby might be off today.

So if Collins was not aware of the extremely psychologically damaging effect of Adamson’s death until Dana told her five years later, and Robby had no idea Collins was ever pregnant or that she aborted the fetus until she told him five years later… That does not speak well at all of their communication skills with each other on a personal level (though professionally they seem to work well together). It also doesn’t give me a picture of a deep, strong relationship; based on all of this, plus the fact that Perlah and Princess don’t know about them dating, this relationship feels, to me, like barely more than a fling. And as I’ve said before, Collins gives Moved On to me; like, even beyond my interpretation of her demeanor in their interactions, it’s canon that she’s attempting IVF alone. She wants to be a mother now, but NOT with Robby. I think she enjoys the occasional flirtation (see her little smile when Robby admits to trying to impress her) but that’s as far as it goes for her.

I think Robby’s behavior can be interpreted many different ways, but the way I interpret them is that he still wonders What Could Have Been. I don’t think they ever got far enough that either of them actually fell in love; but he feels there was potential there that got lost. And he sort of plays in the space of being her friend and boss and ex-lover all at the same time and he’s awkwardly trying to set her up on dates, and also still flirting a bit, and giving her leeway to work on her own.

I dunno, they are interesting to me because their relationship is sort of undefinable. It’s not really romantic, at least not anymore, but it’s also not really platonic; it’s professional but it also crosses that boundary in big ways. They have this weird combination of like, knowing each other very very deeply in one sense but in another sense not really knowing each other at all. As a sidenote: I wonder what Collins’s confession will do to that dynamic, because Robby seemed pretty torn up about it. Like the confirmation that there was in fact a Could Have Been and Collins didn’t want it… that’s painful.

[monbons]

Stitchy Sunday Musings

Thanks for the tag @thewholelemon. I also don't really have an update, but I did have a bit of a reflection I wanted to share today that I hope will speak to some of you---and selfishly---also keep me motivated on the days that are hard. So, with that, story time...

Exactly a year ago, I started my doll-stitching journey and the very first set of dolls I ever gifted were mermaids. I was inspired by @iamamythologicalcreature's gorgeous mer-May art.

This first set was entirely hand stitched because I did not have a sewing machine, nor did I think making dolls would become something I actively pursued in any real way. It was just something I did for fun---a way to channel my creative energy when the words wouldn't come while also paying tribute to some of my favorite fics and their authors.

Fast-forward to my newest dolls and the growth is almost unbelievable. You can see aspects of my final style in my very first dolls, but everything about this last set has evolved. This particular set represents just over 24 hours of work (a significant chunk of them on that tail that boasts 600+ hand-sewn sequins). I also experimented with new hair textures and colors, and apparently, I embroider eyebrows now. (As if making the eyes symmetrical wasn't hard enough!)

It may sound like I am boasting. I swear I am not. Instead, I wanted to post this because this is just one year of committing to a thing and working really fucking hard at it. It is also the kind of visible "success" that is so hard to get elsewhere.

When I first started contributing to fandom, it was as a writer. If your primary contribution to fandom is writing, it can be really hard to do a side-by-side comparison like this. As a result, we often rely on measures of growth or success that can be compared: kudos, reblogs, and comments obviously, but also word counts, fics published per year, etc. Honestly? None of those are reliable (and dare I say worthy?) measures of how beautiful a piece of work is, let alone a journey of growth and joy. It isn't to say they don't have their place, but "the numbers" aren't everything...and they can often feel disheartening.

Anyway, I've been feeling really down on myself recently for a whole host of reasons, but a huge contributor is that I've been having so much trouble with writing. For weeks, "the numbers" have haunted me. Not just the public numbers (I've wanted to scream into a pillow about kudos and likes more than once this year), but the private ones (I'm "behind" on words from this same point last year).

And then I took this humble doll offering to a book signing this past week and the author cried tears of joy, which made me cry. Several people in the signing line gasped when they held up my little merman and his love. Several others came up and talked to me about my art and wanted to know more. For the first time in months, I felt really proud of something I had made, and I guess this post is about holding on to that feeling. When I made these dolls, I wasn't trying to meet some external metric or creating for audience consumption. I wasn't even sure I would post my dolls anywhere since this isn't SnowBaz. I was simply making for the joy of it, and that night, which cannot be quantified in likes or comments or numbers of any kind, filled me up in a way I desperately needed.

Anyway, if you are still with me after this long ramble, thank you. Like I said, it was mostly for me. I wanted to remember that the beauty of my work actually can't be measured, no matter how much I try to do so. That I may not always be lucky enough to see the impact on others like I did with these dolls, but that doesn't make the effort any less valuable. And most of all, that none of that is the point. I wanted to make these dolls, I enjoyed making these dolls, and I am getting better at it because making dolls makes me happy. I needed to remember that. And if that was the case for me, I figured someone else might need to remember it too.

It feels weird to tag people in this, but hellos and high-fives from the philosophical doll factory anyway. May your creative endeavors bring you joy today and every day.

@alexalexinii, @argumentativeantitheticalg, @aristocratic-otter, @arthurkko, @artsyunderstudy, @bachusekart, @best--dress, @blackberrysummerblog, @brilla-brilla-estrellita, @bookish-bogwitch, @confused-bi-queer, @cutestkilla, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @facewithoutheart, @harrie-leithillustration, @hushed-chorus, @iamamythologicalcreature, @ic3que3n, @ileadacharmedlife, @katatsumuli, @larkral, @letraspal, @mooncello, @noblecorgi, @orange-peony, @prettygoododds, @raenestee, @rbkzz, @roomwithanopenfire, @run-for-chamo-miles, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @skeedelvee, @stitchyqueer, @supercutedinosaurs, @talentpiper11, @the-beard-of-edward-teach, @twinkle-twinkle-up-above, @theimpossibledemon, @thewholelemon, @wellbelesbian, @whatevertheweather, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @jyae23, @j-trow-95

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

just a quick message to new blogs and or new people that don't know tumblr etiquette yet!

let me preface this by saying by no means this is supposed to be hateful, I'm just trying to educate those who might not know this

with that being said, typically, writers, artists, people who work hard for tumblr don't like blank blogs. by blank I mean no bio, no posts, no profile pic or customization at all. (at least for me and most of my fellow mutuals)

personally, i don't like it because A: I don't know if this is a real person or a bot and B: it feels shitty knowing I spend hours on something only for somebody to like it and not put enough effort to put a profile pic on there blog

but mostly it's the whole bot thing.

I get a lot of bots following me and liking my stuff, and I've resulted to blocking them because I want to know how many people actually read my stuff.

being a blank blog can result in unintentially being blocked because the user thinks you are a bot.

I was there for a long time as well, I had a completely blank blog for like 2 years before I even figured out I could customize my character so to speak, but now, doing this for almost a year, I realize how important it is to not have a blank blog.

not only does putting a little bit of effort to have a profile pic and a bio saying something simple like 22, not a bot!! can help your fellow tumblr creators very very much!!!

same goes for reblogging!! another thing I just want to add is the importance of reblogging with tags. if you dont know how to do this I actually have a tutorial on how to properly reblog a fic right here :)

at the end of the day, it's your blog and nobody can tell you what to do with it. soooo yeah :) hope that helped somebody idk I was just thinking about it today in class and now idk how to conclude this 😗🫰🏻

[dr-jingles]

I gotta know (if you want to answer, that is): How was Huche immediately after the break up?

Not very well! Emotions play a heavy role in the stability of Obectum cores, and with the break up being as sudden and abrupt as it was (Cen and Huche had been together for 12 years up till that point) it was a, uh, lot for him. Funny enough I've actually been working on a little comic for it here and there for fun so here's a little preview WIP!

[normaltothemax]

Ok so maybe a coffee, 2 large teas, and 4 redbulls yesterday was a bad idea….

[pastelpousay]

HI EVERYONE IK NO ONE ASKED BUT YEA!!

OKAY SO IM GOING TO BE TAKING A BIT OF BREAK FROM MY ART SO I CAN WRITE MY FIC (should probably start referring to it by it’s title 💀) but uhhh yea I’ve been microfocusing on my art for a moment 😭 I’ll probably make more Hadina art but at a much slower pace cuz I’ll be in school and ‘won’t say I’m in love’ chapter 2 will be in the works and I’m still mapping out the plot and things as it goes along.

SO YEA ILL TRY AND MAKE MORE ART BUT IM TRYING TO NOT OVERWHELM MYSELF BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS SO YEA!! :D

[ambersky0319]

Okay I genuinely need to get shit done tomorrow and Friday

Like. I have so much I've been putting off (burnout but we gonna ignore that)

I'm gonna block my hours lol (is it weird i like planning out what im gonna do instead of actually following it?)

And MAYBE take the bus home tomorrow. Maybe. it IS gonna be super fuckin hot tho (considering bus cause uber be damn expensive and i also have a book i need to read for fiction class)

[doubleedgemode]

super shitty mspaint doodle to check if I still got it in regards to drawing with just a mouse. The answer is no, and my hand hurts.

She started to run out of hair dye.

[thebardisabird]

Sorry to bother you about this. I left some asks for daddy matsus stuff months ago. I also asked some normal stuff and n s f w asks too. I still haven’t seen you answer for them.

I know you are busy. I don’t want you to feel annoyed for getting asks like this. I’m only asking cause you are my favorite matsu blog that does daddy matsu stuff.

Like I said, sorry for bothering you about this. I don’t want to force you to answer my asks.

Let me see what I can get to today, darling.

If I could show you my inbox, love, it is...overwhelming to say the least haha. And if I could tell you how my last 5 months have been - you would honestly cry. So I really do apologize for not being able to get to requests that you may have asked me a long while ago. Aside from being regularly busy with real life things (work, my relationship, moving to a new home, applying for grad school, etc.) there's a lot I don't share that I deal with on a daily basis that makes it less than easy for me to do the things I love (like writing for this blog and fandom), but I am trying where I can! Plus this is not the only blog I run now either ahh 🙃

That's all to say, I am doing my best and I will try to get to your requests as soon as I'm able. I'm sorry it's taking so long, but thank you for the kind words you did give and for sticking around so long - it's still surreal when people say I'm their favorite anything, that title feels very undeserved since I'm not as consistent as I used to be. And you're not annoying me nor are you forcing me to do anything, please don't feel that way, because I definitely do not think you are. 🙂

[the-kipsabian]

aight im looking at my wip list rn (like actual work i have started so far)

[hotroadkill]

today 2 years ago i was in america and i had the worst hangover of my life and i was in a waffle house with my friend in awkward silence bc we’d fought in a stranger’s kitchen the night before and the server refilled my water for the 5th time while i fought to swallow half a forkful of hashbrowns and she said “i know that look, y’all had a good time at the superbowl last night” and i was thinking actually we had a mediocre time at a nerd bar where u throw darts and all the drinks r named weird things and anyway my friend gives the fakest laugh ive ever heard followed by “yep we sure did” like are we in a CW show right now what was that line delivery and also what even is the superbowl i was born here and should know but honestly i’ve always just pictured everyone gathering at a comically large bowl of cereal but her nametag says leslie and she’s really nice and she’s refilling my water for the 6th time so yeah sure whatever i’m a red blooded american i’ll be anything for leslie in this moment and she tells us stories about working at bars downtown and my friend tells me bad jokes and i feel a little better even though my heart is kind of withering away because my flight is in 17 hours and theres not enough time never enough time i won’t see him for another year and a half and i won’t ever see leslie again and if i ever run into the italian stranger who fell in love with me over darts then it won’t be the same because we won’t be dancing and i’m sitting in a waffle house while the sun sets and i’m sweating gin and tequila and my flight is in 16 hours and i have so many goodbyes to say in this

city because when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out much less back together but i feel like ive been trying for eight years all the same and my flight is in 15 hours but maybe if my friend brings me home now i can spend three of those looking for more shards even though i’ll cut my hand because time never wore down any of the hurt because time might heal wounds but it cant really do jack shit about a metaphysical glass shard its still gonna make me bleed and my friend brings me home and we curl up beside each other in my childhood bedroom thats too small for us it was really a supply room but it became my bedroom when i was eleven and i painted it blue and put up stickers of fish and never took them down but someone someday will take them down and hopefully the house burns to the ground before anyone can touch them theyre mine i grew up here theyre mine dont touch them dont please dont please please please i grew up here and my flight is in 12 hours now because i fell asleep beside my friend and he let me because he knew i needed it he kept watch even though we dont have time we never do because he has to go now and all i can give him is a hug and my hoodie to keep safe until i can see him again and fight him in a stranger’s kitchen again and the sun is gone now and i go and i sit with my dad and my flight is in 10 hours and im trying

not to cry im trying to stare at the stickers because maybe if i look at all of it hard enough i’ll get to stay but i dont because thats not how it works and now my flight is in 4 hours because i fell asleep in my childhood loft bed and now i have to leave i have to pack up and go for the fifth time and it never never gets easier and i know i only have a few more trips left until someone takes my stickers down and paints over my ocean but for now my best friend’s stepmother comes with me and my dad to the airport because my best friend is in college two states away and my flight is in 3 hours and i cry i cry so much and she cries too because she loves me and i think it is such a beautiful blessed thing that i am so loved but oh it is so painful too because i spend more time in its absence than its presence and my flight is in 2 hours and i have to go and my dad is waving goodbye and i see it because i looked back because im stupid i always look back i never look forward i’m forever walking blind through my life because i’m looking back and i can tell my dad is crying and now i have to go through TSA sobbing and it’s awkward because they ask are you okay kid and im not but i cant tell them sorry its just that when i was fifteen somebody threw my glass heart onto the floor of my childhood house and bits of it shattered everywhere and fell into the cracks of the floorboards and behind the fridge and i’ll never ever get them out i cant tell them that so i nod yes im okay and i go and my flight is in 1 hour and i hope it fucking crashes and my flight is in the air and im so far away from all those shards on the kitchen floor now but they’re hurting me all the same and i think i look kind of insane sobbing in the middle seat but how can i miss so many people and so many rooms at once and not lose my mind a little bit? i was going to tell you a short witty little joke about the time i realized i was 21 and didnt know what the superbowl was but i think i slipped on a shard. i’m sorry. maybe next time i’ll get it right. maybe in another two years. maybe you’ll never see me again. maybe this is all the time we had.

[tiredlinguist]

save me 3 hours of making a dr who edit and eating a stroopwafel

[phagodyke]

zzzzzz