#i might be coming back soon

[serv0z]

GO SUPPORT THE INDIGO PARK KICKSTARTER !!

[mightytato]

okay, this one's a LIIIIIITTLE different from what i usually draw, hope ya don't mindheheahahahehahaha

4 am sketch under the cUT

[thimbell]

I am once again returning from a long unplanned hiatus. Thank you for waiting.

El’s au hurt me and now i gotta do angsty fanart of their bois and goopy guy. Is it el’s au canon compliant? who knows! not me because i still gotta catch up, but here’s the INTRO to some bad times ahead hee hee hee >:) I’ll post the updates throughout the week along with a bunch of other stuff i’ve been working on while away!

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Something I Can Turn To

And now for something different again! I took the AU in 'Domestic AU' and I ran with it! So this is your classic sort of everyone's alive alternate universe, set some nebulous time in the current-ish era, wherein Charles and Edwin attended school together and both survived (slash saved each other from) their canon deaths. It's just a sweet and slightly sad little thing that doesn't go into a huge amount of detail, but I got very attached to it so who knows, maybe in future I'll expand on the backstory! Warnings for references to their pasts and the bullying, child abuse etc. that went on there, as well as to injuries, scars and trauma that resulted from it. But we're not getting into super nitty-gritty detail and hopefully the overall vibe is one of love and safety! Still, tread carefully if those topics are at all triggering for you 💛 2.3k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Charles!" Edwin called — bravely poking his face out from the warm duvet to be heard. "The advertisements are over!"

"Coming, coming!"

Charles scurried into the room moments later, two cups of tea in his hands. He huffed and puffed as he padded along the floorboards in hole-riddled socks. "Cold, cold, cold," he muttered, thrusting the cups towards Edwin in a sloshy, mildly dangerous manner. "Grab these a sec!"

Edwin did so, wincing as his arms breached the bounds of the duvet nest to the frigid air beyond. Once Charles had his hands free he wasted no time diving into bed, burrowing into the pocket of warmth.

"Mate, it's fucking cold," he said, reclaiming his mug. "Freezing my bollocks off out there."

"Perhaps we should have prioritised buying that space heater, after all," Edwin mused.

"Oi. 'Nuff of that. That kettle's a bloody essential bit of kit."

Edwin sipped his tea. Scalding hot, just as he liked it. "Hmm. Agreed."

Charles squirmed around getting comfortable, taking care not to spill his tea. He almost succeeded. "Ow. So! What'd I miss?"

"Nothing whatsoever — you made it back just in time." Edwin settled in as well, against the headboard — though by headboard, he of course meant the bare magnolia wall. "I must say, I'm intrigued by this one. I wonder how Detective Columbo's going to get this villain dead to rights."

"Always fakes you out, don't he?" Charles grinned, finally finding his space — pressed up against Edwin, hip to shoulder. "Mm — pass us the biccies."

Edwin handed him the somewhat depleted packet of ginger snaps. "Do be careful of the crumbs — we've only one fitted sheet to our name."

One sheet, one duvet. Two pillows. No bed frame. It was a modest sleeping arrangement. Particularly for two grown men, squeezed onto a mattress that was only a double by the barest technicality. But on these cold winter nights, that closeness had its benefits. Several benefits, in fact.

As though reading his mind, Charles grinned. "What?" He waggled his eyebrows. "Never messed about on a bed of biscuit crumbs?"

Edwin groaned and, lightly, pressed his palm to Charles' face and pushed it away. "You're revolting," he said.

Charles just laughed. "What? It's just like sex on the beach, really." He bit down on a biscuit. Loudly. "Bit crunchier."

"You will never persuade me that sex on a beach is a good idea," said Edwin, with a shudder. "The sand..."

"Sex in the sea, then?"

"Best of luck with your urinary tract infection."

Charles’ laughter rolled pleasantly in Edwin's ears as he nestled in properly, head on Edwin's shoulder.

Edwin chuckled in turn, draping his arm around Charles, fingers sinking into his hair. He played absently with Charles' unruly curls, as Columbo talked circles around his latest hapless ne're-do-well.

It was a strange little life they'd carved out for themselves, here in this sparsely-furnished nest. They had Edwin's scholarship to thank, and the student housing fund he'd received alongside. Though Charles helped as best he could with his meagre earnings from his part-time job at the local gym, they barely scraped by. Charles might've also been able to apply for student loans, once upon a time. But he'd never managed to bounce back after the sharp decline of his grades in year eleven. And what else could anyone have expected? It had taken all of his considerable strength to get back on his feet after what happened to him. Every ounce of his tenacity to return to his life after the incident that had almost ended it.

Edwin would not soon forget those hideous, harrowing weeks. Counting days of silence, of filling the Rowland family's voicemail to no acknowledgement. Of pitying expressions from hospital staff as they turned him away, time after time. Stewing and seething in the fear and the worry. In the rage of being told that he had less of a right to visit his best friend than the man who'd covered his back in belt scars did. Edwin didn't sleep, he didn't eat, he worried himself away night by night, and the boys who did the damage? Oh, they were suspended. For less time than it took for Charles to return to form. Back to school with a slap on the wrist. Any notions Edwin might've still held about there being justice in the world had been quite thoroughly quashed by that ruling.

It was a miracle Charles even found the strength to attend school for his last two years — let alone the same school. The one where he had, to reiterate, nearly lost his life to hypothermia and internal injuries at the hands of his hooligan 'friends'. Edwin had scarcely believed his eyes when he'd spied Charles across assembly that Tuesday morning. A month with no word and suddenly there he was, beaten and battered and more beautiful than Edwin's heart could take.

His parents — or at least his mother — had wished to transfer him, of course. But Charles, in true Charles fashion, dug in his heels and refused to be moved. Edwin had cornered him that very morning, on the stairs after assembly. He must have been angry — because he shouted at Charles when all he truly wanted to do was collapse into his arms.

"I cannot believe you would stay here in this barbaric horror show after what those boys did to you," Edwin had snapped, eyes stinging with the threat of tears to fall. "That is so fucking stupid it's unbelievable!"

"Sorry," Charles had replied — not sounding sorry in the slightest. His stitched-up split lip curled with his weary smile. "No version of this where I don't stick this out with you, is there?"

And that, as far as Charles had been concerned, was the matter closed.

The simple fact was that Edwin had never had a choice in which school he would attend. St. Hilarion's was in the family tradition; his father, grandfather, great grandfather, all honoured alumni. And if Edwin's own incident a year earlier hadn't been enough to convince his father otherwise, then nothing else would. The only way Edwin was leaving that school before graduation was in a body bag. And Charles, the stubborn fool, could only be convinced to leave Edwin in the same manner.

And so for the last two years of hell they had tried, in their own ways, to keep their heads down. 'Tried' being the operative word. Charles could never leave well enough alone, and fights were amassed. But every time he showed up to their hideout in the attic with a black eye or bloody knuckles, it was always the same story. One where he saw someone else being bullied, and threw himself at the situation as a substitute punching bag. Sometimes, the person he was protecting was Edwin. More often than not, it was some boy he'd never exchanged two words with. Made no odds to him.

And no matter how it terrified Edwin, or how he admonished Charles, he could never truly take issue. To resent Charles for being protective would be to resent him for being tragically, quintessentially Charles. In the end there was nothing he could do but patch Charles together with his pilfered first aid kit, and plead with him to be more careful. Maybe, just maybe, it would sink into his thick skull one day.

While Charles spiralled, Edwin studied. And studied, and studied, and studied. During slow lessons, after hours in the library, in the dead of night under the covers — he preferred to catch his sleep in daytime naps, anyway. For obvious reasons, sleeping in the dorm around the other boys had lost its appeal. There were days where he was so exhausted he could do nothing in his lunchtime trysts with Charles but sleep. At times it seemed there was no safe place in the world besides that dusty attic, with Charles' thigh as his pillow.

It was worth it, the sleepless nights, the borderline mania of his studies. With his stellar grades at sixth form, Edwin secured a scholarship on the other side of the country — fully paid. Meaning freedom, at last, from the golden shackles of his father's money. He'd packed everything he could carry into a backpack and his grandfather's old leather travel case. And with the first money he'd ever had to his name and no one else's, he made his first purchase: two train tickets. One way.

It wasn't an entirely seamless escape, of course. When he'd walked to the Rowland house to collect Charles, he'd found him scrambling through the narrow window of his basement bedroom. Nothing on him but the clothes on his back, and a fresh bruise across his jaw. But escape they had — and Charles had slept the entire way to Edinburgh, head on Edwin's shoulder. Safe and sound, at last.

It had felt good to be able to rescue Charles, for a change. He'd been playing the hero for others long enough.

Edwin scratched lightly at Charles' scalp as the Columbo credits rolled. He smiled when Charles snuffled and nuzzled into the sensation in the manner of a contented old dog.

"What's on next?" asked Charles, drowsy.

"I believe there's an episode of QI on the next channel." Edwin enjoyed that programme — some of the humour was a bit crass for his tastes, but he almost always learned something interesting.

"Tenner says Alan comes last place."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Easy money. And I haven't got a tenner."

"Fiver?"

"No."

"One-er?"

Edwin laughed. "I shall wager you... a kiss."

Charles perked up. "I'll take that action!"

"I hope you never take up a gambling habit, Charles," said Edwin, fondly. "Why on Earth would you place bets for something you can have at any time, in abundance?"

"Yeah, but it's not just a kiss, is it? It's a victory kiss. I get to be all smug and that."

"Charming."

"Oh, I'm a charmer." Charles smiled up at him crookedly, eyes hooded. "All the fit lads love me."

Affection bubbled in Edwin's chest as he looked down upon him. It was a flagrant hollow boast — Edwin knew better than anyone how dire Charles' opinion of himself could be. A situation that had only worsened in recent years, as the beatings from home and school grew more frequent and harder to hide under shirts. The scar on his lip had never fully healed. Nor had the proud sweep of his nose recovered from the time it was broken and poorly reset. He was a war-torn thing, and a bit of a hodgepodge. Elegant frame under rugged wounds, topped off with subtly effete highlights of gold earring and smudged eyeliner. Eyes older than his years, and a newly gap-toothed grin that could still light up the room. He was a strange young man, a walking contradiction; and Edwin loved him dearly, fiercely, and oh-so-terribly.

Edwin leaned down, dropping a sweet kiss between Charles' eyes — just above his broken nose. "I should think so. You're very easy to love."

Charles blinked up at him, a flash of vulnerability in his dark eyes. Edwin gathered him close under his arm before he could do something silly like second guess his affection, or shy away.

"Now shush," said Edwin primly, cupping his warm tea to his chest. It was an awful mug, scrounged from a charity shop with a chip in the rim. It declared the holder a certified 'Tired Old Queen', and it was always Edwin's mug without question. "Mister Fry is about to tell us the theme of the week."

And for a little while, that was that. Edwin followed the programme, rapt, humming in interest at new information — and rolling his eyes at the obvious blunders of the panel. Charles did not speak for some time, still warm against Edwin's side. Sometimes, upon being paid a compliment, he needed to sit a while and let it absorb.

It was the ad break, and Edwin was considering braving the arctic chill of the unheated flat for another tea, when Charles spoke again.

"Edwin?"

"Hm?"

Charles wrapped the arm clutching his — now empty — chequered mug around Edwin's waist. "When the Beeb come and drag me away for not paying the telly licence, will you visit me in prison?"

It was so out-of-pocket that Edwin couldn't help but laugh. "Well. Technically, I will be the one going to prison," he said. "It is my name on the apartment lease."

"Would you want me to visit you in prison, then?"

Edwin flicked Charles' earring, playful. "Obviously, Charles."

He could feel Charles' grin against his shoulder. "Brills. You tell me the layout, and I'll bust you out."

"That is not what I agreed to."

"I'll chat to that new girl at the gym, Crystal? Bet she'd help with a prison break. Reckon she's got a wild side."

"Charles," he said, flatly. "I'll not have you imprisoned with me when your madcap scheme goes awry."

"Why not?" said Charles, giving Edwin a warm squeeze. "That's the whole point of doing it."

Edwin scoffed — but his heart was beating ten to the dozen. "Charles —"

"Nope. Sorry." Charles took Edwin's empty mug from his hand — and leaned up to plant a loud, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. "Looks like you're stuck with me. Prison's not getting you out of this relationship, mate."

He made as if to leave the duvet igloo — and immediately hissed at the cold. "Although this bloody apartment might — fucking hell. Going outside; I may be some time."

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Oh, for goodness' sake." He inched over to the edge of the bed and gathered the duvet about both their shoulders like a cape, tucking his arm neatly around Charles' waist. "There. If we make haste, we can be back before the general ignorance round." He met Charles’ eyes, stoic. “No man left behind.”

Charles’ smile was a soft and doting thing; somehow it warmed Edwin deeper than any space heater ever could. He wrapped his arm around Edwin's shoulder. Their feet dangled side by side, toes flexed to avoid premature contact with the chilly floor. "Together on three, then?”

Edwin smiled back, and nodded. "One."

Charles bumped their heels together in companionship. "Two..."

Edwin returned the gesture, in commiseration for the unpleasantness to come. A cold and bitter expedition to the kettle lay ahead; but as in all things, they’d tough it out together.

"Three!"

~~

Thanks for reading, this one's very dear to my heart - would love to know what you think 💛 Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the lovely comments you guys have been leaving on my fics - I have SO many to catch up on but I promise I'm gonna reply to them! I love talking to you and really appreciate you talking to me 💛💛💛 Not sure right now whether there'll be a fic for tomorrow (canon divergence/case fic) or the day after (free day). I have nothing written, none of my ideas are really sticking, and I'm still feeling kind of ill. I might end up just posting some ink sketches instead! But whether there's fics tomorrow/Saturday or not, there will defo be a fic Sunday 💛 Thanks so much, my lovelies - I'll be seeing you soon 💛💛💛

[nattikay]

ear

The ears are definitely the part of the head that I've been dreading the most, because I've always struggled to make them work. I was never 100% satisfied with the ear results on past heads, so this time I'm trying a different method. It's based on TinnatuPaws's ear patterns, not actually printing and using any of them directly because I wanted that front border to have a slightly different shape, but taking the general method/idea. Took a couple hours to put together a working pattern because I only had a vague idea of what I was doing, and I guess the final look is pretty similar to TinnatuPaws's canine ear design anyways so perhaps it would've been easier to just use that one directly but w/e too late now. I think it turned out pretty alright, but of course the real test will come once I actually put fur on it.

These ears also probably look a tad on the large side for a standard housecat--that was intentional; I'm a bit worried about this head base being a bit too small compared to the other parts of the suit so I'm gonna try compensating by exaggerating the ears, head floof, and cheek floofs a bit. This base already has proportionally very large eyes so I think I can get away with it. Fingers crossed!

I did try on my previous head with the new body the other day to get a better idea of the size ratio and it looked alright, though while the base for my previous head is similar in size to this new one, I do think it might be sliiiiiightly larger overall, even accounting for the fact that it has fur and this one doesn't yet. Hopefully the difference won't be all that significant and I won't be walking around with a comically tiny head, but as with the ear method, the real test won't be till I actually fur it. So....we shall see.

[sluckythewizard]

these are A BIT OLD but uhhh here check out these aggio doodles i did forever ago. still VERY happy w my colors :3

[mirioho]

epel has the prettiest hair color hands down

[bacchuschucklefuck]

caps from comic Im doing

[okay-babe]

If you’re wondering why so many fic writers aren’t posting as much right now, don’t worry, it isn’t you! It’s that we are all somehow having the worst collective college semester of our lives 🤠

[stergeon]

Hi, Stergeon! I really love your Edeleth novels, and your amusing brainworm ideas have brought so much joy to me. I heard that you’ve only completed the CF and haven’t played 3Hopes yet? (If I’m mistaken, I apologize) I’m curious about your thoughts on Edeleth in the SS route and in 3Hopes! Which one do you think would be more compelling? (Personally, I lean toward 3Hopes—I just love seeing how a mercenary earns the emperor’s favor. It leaves so much room for imagination!)

hi anon thank you for your message!! so glad you enjoy my stuff <3 it means a lot to hear it!!!

i've played CF and verdant wind myself and watched playthroughs of AM and SS, although i haven't played cindered shadows or any of 3hopes :0( i have read recaps of the routes in Hopes though, and i'm planning to actually play through it soon. i want to meet this "shez" cat...

i'm putting the rest of this under a cut because i got Too Excited and wrote an essay, but given what i know of 3hopes, my short answer is: edeleth in 3hopes has so much to offer in terms of romance and kiss potential. edeleth in SS is a tragedy, and the angst-lover in me is obsessed with it.

ok, to elaborate,

the big thing is that in 3hopes, edeleth actually stands a chance of getting off the ground romantically.* they'd have an easier time of it, too (compared to CF, anyway), given there's less baggage between them in hopes' timeline: byleth was never edelgard's professor, eliminating the teacher-student dynamic; without a five-year timeskip, edelgard is mentally in a better place, less hardened by grief and loneliness and long, hard years of war. they could actually have something close to healthy relationship development. god i want that for them. i think it would be neat to explore how the differences in their dynamic affect how they grow, too. how does byleth handle the dissonance of her contractually-focused mercenary mindset vs. edelgard's focus on personal agency, while she's still actively a mercenary? how does edelgard go from being purely enamored with byleth's skill to appreciating who she is as a person? can she figure out how to do that for herself, too? do they make each other worse by enabling each other's propensity to allow themselves to be used as weapons, or can they overcome that and grow together?

the slow burn... the building of trust... i'm here for it. then add in crest resonance—the idea that they are drawn together by their very blood, the red thread of fate... ohhhh. juicy. delicious. as a gluttonous dyke who wants to see them girls kiss and have nice lives: sign me up.

* this is all assuming you get the “good ending” where you recruit byleth. otherwise, uh. good luck.

hmm. i might have to start this game, like, this week.

as for SS, i have. a lot of thoughts lmao. as far as i'm concerned, fe3h is a story about agency and choice, about how the decisions we make can shape the world.

given that, silver snow is a tragedy. it is a cavalcade of hubris and grief and squandered potential, of might-have- and should-have-beens. it is a veritable feast of angst and it makes me fucking insane. that route (and specifically, the edeleth aspects of it) got me so messed up that i had to go write The Victors; The Vestiges about it.

shameless plug aside,

i know it's not fair to deal in comparisons rather than letting the routes stand on their own, but what i find so compelling about SS is the contrast with CF. in my opinion, CF is the best route for byleth as a character because it's the only route in the game where she has any autonomy. sure, byleth picks a house at the start of the game, but it's not like it was a real choice: she had to choose one of them, having just met those kids, like, That Day, and it's not like she could say "no thanks" and go on her merry way. in SS/CF, byleth gets presented with an actual decision: she can follow orders like she's been doing her entire life, or defy orders and blaze her own path by standing with edelgard, knowing full well what the consequences will be. it’s her first real, fully informed choice where she gets to be the arbiter of her own fate.

at the end of CF, byleth's agency/personhood is cemented when her crest stone breaks and she severs her connection to the control of others, becoming fully "human." in SS, she has that agency within her grasp and yet she succumbs to her fatal flaw: she goes along with what she's told to do once again, just like she's always done.

does byleth want to kill edelgard? does she want to become archbishop? does she want to rule over fodlan, effectively alone? what does byleth think or feel about any of this? we'll never know. she won't know, either, because she's never made a choice for herself to affect the path of her own life. she follows jeralt, then she follows rhea, then she follows whatever seteth tells her to do. edelgard offers her the out, the chance to be her own person, and she says no.

ugh. tragic hamartia. i love it. i hate it. it hurts real good.

and all that's just focusing on byleth. we haven't even gotten into talking about edelgard in that route. holy crap, how she suffers. it is her loneliest route, where even those in her house have abandoned her, and all her worst fears have come to pass. in the months edelgard spends at garreg mach, she gets a taste of friendship, of solidarity, of trust, and in byleth, she also gets the chance to be known—to confide in someone else, to reveal what's beneath her armor, to get to be a kid and a friend and a person. and that terrifies her. in her dialogue and supports, she tiptoes around anytime she might reveal something of her true self, guarded and yet so badly wanting to let someone else in. in spite of herself, she starts to do that with byleth, fearing all along that she's making a mistake, that she's misplacing her trust, that she's compromising her mission and betraying those she's sworn to avenge by allowing herself any modicum of innocence and individuality, by re-opening her heart to allow others inside again.

and then when byleth sides with rhea in the holy tomb, all of those fears are proven true. instead of finding solidarity and choosing a path together, they both become set in their ways, serving the purposes for which they were designed, missing out on the chance to ever be anything more.

when byleth kills edelgard, she kills her last chance at true human connection, succumbing to fate, forever limited to being only what she was made to be and not who she could be. a weapon, a shell for another's soul, inheritor of another's destiny. a god without agency, with unchecked power and the contractual mindset of a mercenary. how sad. how lonely. how terrifying.

i've focused a lot on byleth in discussing this because she's the one whose perspective we follow in SS and the only one who's alive at the end. edelgard's path is consistent, doomed as it is. byleth is the one who's left at the end of it all, knowing what could have been different and that the decision was entirely hers. and, if you subscribe to byleth being immortal like other nabateans, she gets to carry that with her forever. she continues the cycle rhea began after sothis was killed, with edelgard at the epicenter of her grief.

yeah, i'm working a bit of a bad-faith angle by acting like byleth is completely incapable of seizing agency for herself without external help, as though she can't self-actualize, or like she can't want to choose the church over edelgard. but... frankly, we don't have any evidence to the contrary. we don't get many of her thoughts on things outside of her limited dialogue options in SS, like when she's asked if she is willing to take up rhea's mantle and become archbishop. she gives a lot of "..." answers and guarded looks, utterly noncommittal, in line with how she was at the very beginning of the story. she doesn't grow. she doesn't change. she simply falls into this role without raising her voice one way or another. and i think it's very telling that the one true, story-changing choice we're presented with results in her either embracing her own humanity, or her draconic/nabatean side.

at risk of getting further off-track, i'll wrap by saying that for me, the appeal of edeleth is in how they complement each other and make each other grow. edelgard strives for freedom and personal agency, and she introduces those concepts to byleth—"choice" simply wasn't a thing in byleth's world before edelgard offered her the chance to forge her own path. byleth, meanwhile, shows edelgard that it's possible to be more than what you're made for—that you can be a weapon and a person, that you can grow and change, that opening your heart doesn't mean you have to sacrifice your dreams. edelgard's hypocrisy is crippling in all other routes: she limits herself to her path while fighting for everyone else's freedom. in CF, edelgard shows byleth a different way forward, and byleth makes sure edelgard gives herself that chance, too.

that's love, babey. that's romance. getting to be your whole self, to find your whole self, to share yourself with someone else, your strengths and your weaknesses, your light and darkness, and have them accept you anyway. to accept those things about yourself, if only because they do, because they can see the light where you can't. to help someone else do all those same things, and to do them together, no matter what comes your way. to help each other be all you can be and achieve your dreams and ambitions and shit. that's hot!!!!!

in silver snow, we see byleth and edelgard come so close to that, occasionally even catching glimpses of the future they could build together if only they were in each other's lives. but they swerve away at the last second, and they haunt each other for the rest of their lives.

you get what i'm saying? like, this graph is sexy to me:

but this graph is also sooooo sexy:

fucking hell i love them girls.

ok i got really rambley BUT: that's the gist of my silver snow thoughts lol. AM is diet SS but worse because dimitri and i would need another post and a half to complain about that. VW slid right off my brain even though i played through the whole dang route. as far as i'm concerned, it's all about CF and SS, and particularly about how they intersect (or don't). once i get 3hopes and play through scarlet blaze i'm sure you'll see me consumed with Them Girls Fever again with all kinds of new feelings about 'em.

[mildmayfoxe]

LOW STOCK ALERT!!! 🗣️🗣️ got ten or less of each of these bad boys and can't guarantee if or when they'll be comin back. get em while the gettin's good: click

[tblsomedoodles]

I thought i escaped sims 4 but it's dragged my dumbass back again.

I hate this game. I need so many mods just to be able to just to fix it so i can play without being frustrated. but no matter how frustrated i get, i keep coming back : /

Anyways! Like my new little me? (i forgot what they're called. Avatar? *Shrug*) I'll put some more stuff (and doodles) about them under the cut

They're a candle! The body and oversize hoodie are all the wax and the undercut ponytail is the little flame (like Ember from Danny Phantom lol). Her feet are kinda goopy and her hands never show b/c the sleeves of the hoodie drip over them (sometimes driping off completely.)

i got kinda bored with my old one (drawing me but purple) so they got a little upgrade for my silly little personal doodles.

That is all : )

[tazzy-ace]

Reese's Gege (Big Brother) Mode Also featuring best assistant/accomplice: Xiao Mei

First Note of Love | Ep 1

[everlusts]

not being here for anything other than saurondriel is a direct threat to the lorebros and a portion of the show fans themselves. not sure how honoured i am about that but yeah

[bonebuckets]

Since Archive 81 came back from the war, can Red Valley come home too. the kids miss you.

[tarovrispy]

⌧ | TEXTS FROM THE DUMPSTER

02: AFAIK ( as far as I know ) ⌦

← previous | back to masterlist | next →

CW! | misunderstandings, slight brainrot terms used

as a small sigh collapsed out of your mouth, you can't help but wonder silently in your head if you seemed awkward and suspicious while walking down the hallways earlier.

Perhaps I did. I mean, I was trying so hard to hide my computer from any prying eyes, which I had to hold protectively in my arms without a computer bag, fearing that someone would point out that it wasn't mine.

the fearful thought continued to linger in your head, drowning out your lecturer's monotonous voice echoing in the background, travelling into your ear and out again. Well, not like he was talking about anything important. He was probably acting passive aggressive with the class again, complaining about how your cute tiny brains just can't seem to think of any better and more creative draft ideas for the most recent product design projects.

Slowly, you let your eyes roam from left to right, scanning around your surroundings before you drift your fingers back to your phone under the table to scroll through your social media page.

This might just be a good time to figure out who was the actual owner of the Macbook you currently have in possession. This mysterious person who thought it would be a good idea to scribble the words, 'bokuto' on their keypad to mark their Macbook. Maybe it was a smart decision for them, considering the amount of time you took yesterday night trying to scrub it off... but just not in your case.

As your eyes silently scanned your social media feed, once in a while glancing back up to see if anyone caught you slacking during lecture and decided to rat you out - or worse - the lecturer catches you instead. You gulp, shuddering at the thought as you tighten your grip around the frame of your phone.

Your eyes abruptly widen as you stumble upon a post that seemed to be writing about the Macbook that you had picked up from the dumpster yesterday. Comparing the details to your situation, uour mouth fell open in a silent gasp at how it matched up, leaving to no doubt due to the similarities.

But the shock you received does not stem from the owner posting about his lost Macbook, nor him asking people to be on a look out for it (because you would probably do that as well), but it's the owner's profile picture itself.

Your throat tightens. Oh no. A flush begins to creep steadily across your cheeks even as you try to suppress it, the effort futile. It’s like trying to capture the wind in your palms.

This is a big, problematic situation that you dread ever coming into contact with.

✎ a little fyi!

yn and yachi actually beef a lot with each other on chat, but they consider each other as their for lifers

lev doesn't get gen z / gen alpha slangs (because even if he has ever heard of its meaning before, he forgets it too easily)

yn's product design lecturer acting passive aggressive towards her is basically my personal experience (my design teachers are always passive aggressive its killing me)

yn lives in her own world half the time, she has zero knowledge on volleyball & people from other majors (no matter how popular they are) hence she rarely falls for guys in her school (and if she does, she falls hard like a hopeless romantic admiring their crush from a distance)

btw yn did manage to hack into bokuto's macbook and add her sign in to the computer (the password was IMBESTvolleybaler1234)

⌗ taglist | @tobiosluvr @wyrcan @giocriedpower @insanelycooljk