#this is written so nicely

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[troutreznor]

text transcribed under readmore

SMALL DOG SYNDROME 

small dog you’re so funny when you snap small dog you’re so funny when you shake small dog you’re so bad when you bark small dog you never learned the rules

small dog lays flat on the floor  and sighs and whines  while it waits for you to come back from wherever you go  all day small dog doesn’t know if you’re coming home small dog hides under the bed to puke does it quiet eats its shame before you ever smell it  small dog’s bark is worse than its bite  small dog you are so funny when you bite  small dog it’s so funny when you’re mad  so by all means pick it up throw it around  lock it in a cage while you laugh small dog you are so funny when you cry

small dog can’t remember being a wolf  can’t remember being big  howling in harpstring harmony  like a plucked and quivering note in a catacomb  sleeping in a warm pile of bodies in a dry place that smells like family  the taste of fresh hot blood and wet bone iron fire honey salt 

small dog run free beneath the moon in your dreams

small dog is so happy you’re home!! small dog loves you!!!

JMGD

[keferon]

OKAY OH MY GOD THIS FIC IS GREAT I HAVE ONLY READ THREE AND A HALF CHAPTERS AND IM ALREADY IN LOVE

I originally wanted to make both of these pieces in color but I’m gonna be honest I have no fucking idea how to draw Ricochet…he is described as black and red and…mmhhmmm does he have canonical (canonical for this fic I mean) design? Do I need to design him myself? Idk I’ll figure this out later

[pricegouge]

price x pregnant!f!reader meetcute drabble i whipped up on my lunch dedicated entirely to the girl at work who's too heavily pregnant to fit her scrubs rn. john price would love you, girl, keep your chin up

The worst part wasn't actually the discomfort of the papery material, nor the cheap elastic waistline which dug into your plush sides and itched like a sonofabitch. It wasn't even the embarrassment of having to track down your lead at the start of your shift and shamefacedly admit that you could no longer fit into your designated scrub pants and ask if he could maybe please find some spares somewhere? (He couldn't, because apparently no one on the team before you had ever fallen ill with a baby in the belly or even just gained a little weight.)

No, the worst part was the noise.

It hadn't been something you'd even considered until you were already barging into your first patient's room, swishing away with each step. Mr. Jeffreys had grumbled in his sleep, eye peeking open just as you'd leaned over him to start your morning check. Enough ruckus, woman. You'd thought he was just being irritable, a common enough occurrence, but then it happened again and again, each new room bringing another grumpy occupant, displeased about being woken up so far ahead of breakfast. Still, you almost preferred that to the early risers, the old biddies who would turn to greet you, already alert, take one look at you with your swollen belly overhanging the thin paper pants they'd made you wear over your reliable leggings, and start cackling loud enough to draw attention from the other orderlies. 

You weren't the first pregnant woman to outgrow her pants, but you were perhaps among the first to have done so in a professional setting. 

At least it got easier the more the day dragged on, quippy remarks coming more naturally to you the more you had them levelled at you in kind. You'd even let a little boy doodle on your shin, an attempt to keep his mind of his mother groaning in pain, attempting to work through a kidney stone. You're fairly sure you're rocking an Incredible Hulk there now, but it was a bit hard to tell with the way the magic markers had bled across the tyvek weave. 

"Missed your calling." 

You frown down at the man before you, thick brows only slightly pinched despite the way you knew his shoulder must be killing him. GSW. Didn't get many of them 'round here, but you'd seen enough hunting accidents to figure out the good stuff didn't always cut it. And this didn't seem like your average misfire, or pulled-shot graze. He'd been the talk of the nurses station when the call had come through to prep for him, bullet taken straight on, center mass. He wasn't from here, didn't seem to know anyone from here. No one believed it was a simple hunting accident, but the authorities had come and gone, sent skittering by a rather severe woman yielding a badge no one had gotten a good look at. No arrests, minimal testimonies. Rumors had sprouted roots, grew too tall too quickly to be believable. You'd heard everything from a jilted lover to some sort of military coup, but you hadn't placed much stock in anything other than the three letters which had remained unchanged on his chart since the moment he'd been admitted, and then later the surgeon's notes.

GSW. Successful operation.

That had only been two days ago. You'd been in his room once before, set about the same task. He'd been fast asleep, the handsome man who's been visiting offering charming but ultimately short conversation. It hadn't bothered you as you'd been in a rush, and you'd known full well the stress loved ones usually felt, trying to ensure the best possible rest for their injured loved ones. 

He had no guard dog today, no one to send you packing when your putzing made too much noise. And now you've woken him, poor man.

"Pardon?" 

Blue eyes blink open, cloudy with pain and the influence of strong meds but surprisingly alert. They flick down to your leg, shoulders tensing a bit as he lifts his head to see properly. "Pretty tree you've made there." 

You can't help but laugh. "Seems I'm right where I should be, then, seeing as that's supposed to be the Hulk. I think," you add once you've earned a smirk.

"Can't even remember what it is you've drawn? You the reason I can't find a comfortable position? Been stealing my morphine?"

"I wish," you sigh, pat your belly dramatically. "But they say it's bad for baby."

His brows lift into his hairline, pain momentarily forgotten as he looks you over again, as if seeing you for the first time. You realize pretty quickly that he's one of those people, the crinkling around his eyes revealing him as the type. It's one of the weirdest parts of being pregnant, the strangers who look at you with awe, as if you've hung the moon. You try not to think too much of it, don't like imagining couples who've tried for years when all you've managed to do was slip up your birth control one time, like a fool. This man isn't wearing a ring, but that doesn't mean much. Most women who carry on after you are single, too. At least he's not trying to touch your belly.

"Is that why you're half way to a paper gown? Come wandering from maternity?"

"Har, har," you deadpan, waving your stethoscope at him although you know full well he's seen it - hard to miss, resting atop your swollen tits. "No, I've simply grown too fat for my scrubs. And I think my lead's having too much fun embarrassing me about it."

He frowns, somehow vaguely patronizing even while heavily medicated. "No spares for someone in your condition?"

"Nope! Apparently I'm lucky enough to be the only fertile little heifer ever on the team," you snark, and then squint at his monitor when his pulse spikes unexpectedly. 

"Sorry," he mumbles - odd - and when you check, you notice some color to his ears. He clears his throat to distract you from fretting, though the softness is gone from his eyes again, replaced by an implacable type of tension. "Perhaps they're simply not used to expectant mothers working so late into their term?" 

Ah. At last, the well-meaning concern. It grates at you worse than usual, the ease and simplicity (albeit annoyance) of your silly morning falling apart in seconds. Perhaps it's that, the whiplash, that has you huffing irritably, mood plummeting. "Well. Someone's got a pay my bills," you gripe, snapping the claw of his clipboard just to work out some aggression. Maybe it's the hormones.

There's a huff of breath, almost as animated as yours. When you look to make sure he's not aspirating or something, your new friend's absurd mustache is twitching. "Well. That's what Mr. Pretty Nurse is for, no?" 

The phrasing makes you smile, hands gentling as you busy yourself with his monitor. This is familiar ground, at least, a path well-tread which you'd like navigating with a conversational partner who would call you Ms. Pretty Nurse. "Sure," you concede, tapping away at his station to check the trend of his vitals. Steady, even. All night. Like he was practiced at taking bullets. "You ever see him, you tell him he owes me a back log of bills, alright?" In truth, your 'mister' never was a mister, just some guy you'd been trying to blow off steam with. He'd cut and run the second you'd brought up the pregnancy, but you'd decided to keep it after some thought and had never followed up with him, deciding it ultimately was no longer his concern. You harbored no ill will, really, but the dead beat dad was a common schtick, an easy conversational piece when simply shooting the shit with talkative patients. If the worst part about pregnancy was the noisy pants (and the morning sickness, and the belly hair, and the leaky nipples and the -) then the best part was surely the built-in small talk.

"Be sure to let him know," chops murmurs, voice tight. You check his file again, correct your mental dub with his real name, John Price. Traditional, like the neat beard hiding the growing color in his cheeks. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly rougher. "Who did that, then?" 

You think he's pointing to your belly, far too forward, but when you check you see his finger aims lower, towards the art that started this conversation. "Kid over in pre-op. Was upset watching his mom writhing around. Passing a stone," you supply with an exaggerated whisper, as if telling him some scandalous secret.

John grins, soft again. "You'll be good at it, then."

"Pardon?" you ask absently, watching as his heartbeat seems to flutter weakly. 

"Said 'too round for scrubs,'" he chuckles. "Good job, mama."

You scoff, scandalized, but when you turn to him you find he's got that far off look in his eye, a sharp contrast to the lucidity of his speech. That does it. You tut, leaning over him to check his forehead with the back of your hand. And outdated practice, sure, but still useful in a pinch. He doesn't feel overly warm, but his focus has slipped back into that slight haziness, blissed out and vaguely absent, staring a good half a foot below your eyes.

"Mr. Price -," you start but he interjects.

"Just John, love."

"Sure. John. Are you feeling okay?" 

Eyes crinkling again, he gives you an unbearably soft smile, at odds with everything you've managed to glean from his chart. "Never better, doll."

banner by @/cafekitsune

[cangrellesteponme]

wife

[fudgecake-charlie]

to my IRL(s) who keeps sending me disco elysium memes despite the fact i haven't played it in months THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU. HELP ME. If people have ideas on this AU feel free to have fun with it considering I. have only a few!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Turtle Takedown Teamwork.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[transmascxielian]

something something something maddie as the symbol of the sweetest person in the system still being the system. right from the start to the end she was backing up authority and supporting the powers which were heading everyone to war for the sole purpose of maintaining their perspective of the status quo. and she did all of this with a smile on her face and a plucky new-girl-on-the-force attitude and was altogether one of the best examples in the show of how it doesnt matter how much you smile when you're pointing the gun at someone.

[oogaboogasphincter]

i had a nasty logan howlett/the wolverine thot 👹 minors please DNI under the cut <3 i pictured dofp!logan but any logan can work bc it’s just filth

he’s got you bent at the hips over the side of the bed, your front smushed into the sheets that you grasp onto for dear life with trembling fingers.

“fuck, this pussy’s tight,” he rasps standing behind you. even though you can’t see it, his head tilts back, his eyes slide closed, and his lips part as words tumble out in a harsh breath, “so wet…”

he taunts, “you needed this so bad, didn’t you?” gazing down his nose at your rippling back. the corner of his lip pulls up in a smirk at your replying mewls. “i’ve got your little pussy trained so well, craving my cock before you have any say in it.”

his thrusts aren’t fast, but they’re hard, punching deep inside you. it makes the bed frame creak and your neck sway with the aftershock of force every time.

that is, until he growls in a mixture of impatience and possession. his forearm slinks around your side and comes to hook around your chest, pulling your back flush to his rock hard body. his other snakes around the front of your hips, pressing down and holding you still as he speeds up his pace to a pummel.

his hand is big enough for his thumb to press hard into the hinge of your jaw, keeping it agape and pretty, while his fingers wrap around your throat at the same time. your eyes roll closed and you fight to take in breaths around the constriction and molten pleasure bubbling up from inside you.

“that’s it, good girl,” he nearly purrs, like gravelstones tumbling over velvet. “i want you to come all over my cock, princess. fucking soak it, sweet thing.”

when you start unraveling, he gives your pussy a few more harsh pounds with his cock before he finally releases your throat. you gasp for air between whines of ecstasy. the rush of oxygen tickles your addled brain, like a gentle hand brushing stardust across your skull. Logan slows to a torturous pace, a low, primal rumble resonating from his chest as he feels the tremors from your plushness along every inch of his cock, from base to tip as he drags his length in and out, in and out.

he grabs your slumping frame, hoisting your hips back to right where he wants you. he lands a smack on your ass and sighs raggedly, a hint of wickedness on his tongue, “i’m just gettin’ started with you, bub. better go on and brace yourself for more.”

[paper-birdies]

I've been reading a Gravity Falls fanfic called "The Therapist" by @bapple117, where you - The reader- are Bill Cipher's Therapist in the Theraprism. I was on Bapple's Discord server and came across a conversation asking "What if Bill had a secret collection of art he made of the therapist and got super flustered when the therapist finds them."

Posted that and then someone mentioned that in a panic, Bill would probably try to eat the art and tries to eat the pages.

Anyways, I freakin' love this fic and this funky lil' guy.

[sistertotheknowitall]

A Stray

As the siblings made their way up to the shared apartment (having to take the stairs cause what shitty apartment complex had a working elevator) Danny questioned Jazz on her late night.

Danny had just got off work late and he was surprised to run into Jazz at the entrance of their building. Now, Danny wasn’t naive, he knew Jazz could take care of herself and he pitied the poor Rogue who crossed her on a bad day. (It didn’t stop him from worrying just like his having powers didn’t stop Jazz.) Yet, it was well after eleven and she wasn’t one to be out after ten pm, partially because this was Gotham but mostly because she liked sticking to a routine.

Jazz shrugged, “I got caught up working on an assignment, didn’t realize the time.”

Danny looked at her closely, ‘didn’t realize the time’, yeah right. Like he said Jazz stuck to her routines when possible. As he continued to stare, they got closer to the door and the blush on Jazz’s face (previously attributed to the cold night) deepened. She shoved her key into the lock and -

“You were with somebody,” Danny declared.

With a sigh that came only from the soul of an eldest siblings Jazz let them both in. “Yes, Danny. I was with someone and you will mind your business until I decide if it’s going anywhere.”

“At least give me a name.” There came another sigh, “his name is Jason.” “….. that’s such a boring name.” “Danny.”

A door slammed and they both turned. Ellie was standing in front of her bedroom, her eyes flickering from them to the bathroom door across the hall. The three all stood in silence as she seemed to make a decision. Taking the two steps required to enter the bathroom, she called, “you two are back late.”

“Yeah, long shift and Jazz had a date.” Jazz shot him a quick glare before turning a worried look to Ellie, who was making her way back to her room with the first aid kit. She looked fine, still, “are you okay?”

Ellie paused and looked at her older siblings, confused, “yeah? Why?” Danny gestured to the first aid kit. Ellie looked at it then back to them. She shrugged, “yeah, it’s not for me.” She then went into the room and re-shut her door.

Jazz was going to loose lung capacity if she kept sighing like that. With one hand in her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose, Danny thought she definitely looked the part of his and Ellie’s parental figure. Not that Danny needed one, he was eighteen- thank you very much. Still Jazz had always been more of a mom in several areas where Maddie had lacked.

“Her and those strays she keeps being home.” It was Danny’s turn to shrug, slightly amused, “five bucks says it’s a squirrel again.” He followed Jazz to Ellie’s room where she opened the door. “Ellie, I’ve told you before. I love that you want to help-“

They both paused because there on Ellie’s tinny twin sized bed, bleeding from a gash on his side, was a Robin. And not the avian kind.

Ellie had also paused in her attempt to clean the wound and was staring back at her siblings. The Robin didn’t seem conscious and just let out a broken groan.

Danny, from where he was looking over Jazz’s shoulder, was the first to speak.

“Well that’s not a squirrel.”

[alazic02]

I drew this last year when their episodes were coming out but just recently dug its sketchbook out. Emotional sequel to this comic :)

Artwork ©: alazic02 | buy me a ko-fi

Do not repost.

[ryllen]

Hi! I hope that you are doing well🥰💗💕 I really adore your art!! Your Yuu really wins me over to the very heart!💘💘💘

I wear lightning-shaped earrings and they really remind me of Sebek!⚡ I would like your girl to put them on and draw this🥺💓

But I also really love her black earrings that she wears when she's a teenager and green ones when she's an adult! It's really cute💕💕

And! I would be interested to know if Sebek notices when Yuu puts on other earrings or doesn't wear them at all if she doesn't want to?👉👈💗

Have a nice day!🥰❣️❣️❣️

decide ur ending, which feels more in character

[chemblrish]

20 April 2024

It's raining outside and I'm lying in bed sipping coffee and reading after studying for a couple of hours <333

[aris-has-a-paracosm]

The first chapter of my sci-fi dystopian Team Rancher au, Finality’s Fault, is here! I worked really hard on this first chapter and am very proud of it, so comments and rbs (feedback in general) would be greatly welcomed!

Also, asks are always open if you wanna ask me about it, theorize, or just chat in general :)

[lightbulb-warning]

emotional support guy!!!! who!!!!!! sucks!!!!!!!!!