#tid fanfiction

[caterpillarinacave]

 Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Charlotte Branwell/Henry Branwell Characters: Charlotte Branwell, Henry Branwell Additional Tags: Fairwell, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Period-Typical Sexism, Author Is Sleep Deprived, No Beta We Die Like Thomas and Agatha, I'm too tired to even read this over before I post it so yee-haw everybody Summary:

She fell in love with him in the summer, though she didn't say it. And it turns out it's nice to be in love on Christmas; even if you don't say it.

 Or; Three Fairwell meetings pre-TID from Charlotte's point of view, and one from Henry's.

Happy Holidays everyone! My gift to you is 5k worth of Fairwell. 

[vwritesaus]

SO. it's been a hot minute, i know, but i'm posting some wip snippets very shortly!!

to those who sent me those prompts from ages ago... these are for you ♡

[tscclace]

Can anyone recommend me fanfics involving canon ships or time travel from any of the Shadowhunter Chronicles series?

[kvohru]

boxes of clementines | w. herondale

will herondale x fem reader, no mention of shadowhunter stuff, established relationship, husband!will, fluff!!!! so much fluff!!!!, cross posted on ao3 under @/kvohru

‘There are boxes of clementines in the kitchen and the thing is that I love you again.’ — Alessia Di Cesare, The Side Effects of Eating Too Many Clementines

Despite it being a December morning, it was surprisingly warm in your home— for a wintry London day's standards, that is. The sun was up, for one thing, its delicate rays filtering through the clouds and into your kitchen.

Perhaps it's the fact that you live in the countryside? you thought idly as you put away your groceries. Maybe that's why it was sunnier today? Well, regardless, your warm friend was still a welcome guest any day.

Seeing as how it was the weekend today, neither you nor Will had work, so you took it as a chance to get caught up on some housekeeping chores like groceries and such. Well, you had been out getting groceries while Will—who was set to return by the afternoon—was out doing… other things. (He was out replacing something or the other, you weren't quite focusing when he had told you about it the other day.)

And so you went on, adopting a tranquil rhythm, sorting boxes into cupboards and washing all the fresh produce you'd bought. Apples, strawberries and cucumbers were left to soak in the sink while the boxes of clementines were left on the kitchen counters.

You let out a contented sigh. It was a good morning.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

It was well past the afternoon when Will was walking up the stone walkway to the quaint countryside home. In fact, the sun was already starting to set by then, the pale blue sky quickly turning a warm orange instead.

He trudged up the steps to the front porch, adjusting the large bouquet in his hands; a brilliant arrangement of flowers that he didn't think twice about buying when he passed by that florist he often frequented for you.

He shifted the bags he was carrying along with said bouquet to his other arm, freeing up his right to dig into his coat pocket for the keys. “Cariad?” he called as he walked in, toeing his shoes off and placing them neatly beside the door.

It was a few seconds before your reply, which came in form of a Hm?, could be heard. He set all the bags down. A few more seconds where he could hear your feet padding across the wooden floors before you finally, finally, came into view.

“Will!” After all these years, you still had a way of seeming utterly excited when seeing him. I mean, he could practically see the almost cartoonish glimmer in your eyes from across the room.

“Hey, darling,” he greeted gently, his whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of you. It was as if simply being around you worked all the knots from his shoulders and eased all his muscles.

The smile wholly transformed your face at the sound of the term of endearment, the corners of your eyes crinkling adorably and your lips splitting instantly into a wide smile.

The setting sun cast long shadows on the ground, the slanting rays giving a warm orange tinge to the earth, the sky and everything in between.

Your eyes finally left his face and travelled down to his body, where you finally spotted the bouquet balanced on his elbow. He had thought it'd be the first thing you'd notice when he walked in, seeing as how it was almost as big as his torso, but you hadn't.

You'd been too transfixed on his face, on him, to notice anything else.

Your face instantly softened, an almost infinitesimal shift in your expression that would've been impossible to notice if it were anyone else looking at you. But Will noticed. He always did.

It was like it was happening in slow motion, that change in your expression. From the previous childlike joy at seeing your husband to the look of pure, unadulterated love in your eyes.

“Oh, darling,” you breathed, almost to yourself, as you walked closer. You gingerly plucked the bouquet out of his arm, instantly pulling it up to your face to smell it. It really was a gorgeous arrangement; from the roses to the carnations to the peonies, and the tiny pieces of baby's breath sprinkled throughout.

And the part that made it all the more precious to you was that you knew Will had taken time out of his day to put it together. You knew it wasn't prearranged, and the image of your husband standing at the florist and meticulously putting together an assortment of flowers for you warmed your heart to an immeasurable degree.

“Will,” you breathed again, and… were you getting teary-eyed? You looked up at him, and yep, those were definitely tears lining your waterline. He couldn't help the corner of his mouth lifting at the sight. “They're so beautiful. You're so beautiful. Thank you so much. I love you.”

You were gushing your praises and gratitude now, and it wouldn't be long before—

“Wait,” you mumbled, a look of realisation (which looked more like horror than anything) falling over your face. You whipped your head around, your ponytail smacking him in the chest from the force of the motion.

He barely contained his amused scoff. You were and would always be incredibly and adorably predictable. Not to mention incredibly easy to read, too.

“No occasion,” he said, interrupting your Oh No Did I Miss An Important Date?™ scanning-over-the-calendar routine. You let out an audible sigh of relief, your whole body slumping forward with the motion, and this time Will couldn't hold back the smug grin.

You set the bouquet down and looked at him, suspicious despite your relief. He could practically hear the question in your gaze (refer back to what I said about you being incredibly easy to read), and he was sure it went something like this: A bouquet this big for no reason?

He sighed dramatically and leaned closer, his voice taking on that classic teasing lilt of his, “What? Can't a man surprise his wife with flowers in peace?”

“But why?” you insisted quietly. Clearly, you were incredibly worried you'd somehow forgotten about an important date. Because what if you had and Will, being the ever so gracious (debatable) man that he was, didn't want to embarrass you by reminding you?

“Just because.”

“But it's so big.” Your worried gaze met his, and his grin split even wider.

“Not the only big thing I can—”

You smacked him lightly on the arm to shut him up. “Come on!” he complained, forever the melodramatic man that he was, “You practically walked into that one!”

You rolled your eyes, but the gesture held absolutely no heat, especially not when you were smiling despite yourself. “Thank you,” you said sincerely, rising up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his, and hoping he could sense the extent of your gratitude in that kiss.

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly between kisses, the teasing leaving his voice entirely and being replaced by an insurmountable amount of love.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

A while later, after he had changed and joined you back in the kitchen, the two of you could be found sitting at the kitchen island, sharing a clementine.

[the-cosmic-blogger]

Now that Gravity Falls is trending again, time to plug my old but gold collab GF x SU fic again! :3

It all started on Google Plus, May 2016, as a roleplay between me and an old friend, and after years of posting it on AO3, it's finally been "finished" May 22nd, 2024. Meet A Triangle in the Stars once again!

Enjoy!! :3

[imherongraystairstrash]

oh sad you lost your wips, I love all your published fics so much specially how well you get Kit, Anna, Cecily and Gabriel personalities

Thank you for your kind words!! I’m posting this fic-let about them as a way of showing my gratitude 🤍 thank you for reading!!

Windy Willows

Characters: Cecily Herondale, Gabriel Lightwood, Anna Lightwood (little), Christopher Lightwood (also little)

…

The branches of the willows outside of Cecily’s former bedroom swayed in the light breeze. Towards the horizon, one could see the sprawling mountains in the distance. 

Cecily had only lived in her parent’s house in Yorkshire for a short while before she had gone in pursuit of her missing brother, therefore she didn’t quite feel a strong attachment to it. She did remember her childhood home in Wales with a deep sense of longing. She would have loved to visit that house once before she died, though she wasn’t quite sure it would ever be possible. 

That wasn’t to say Cecily didn’t like her parent’s house in Yorkshire. She found it quite cosy, and secluded (which was better for her father, who was one to succumb to bad habits easily). She also found that visiting with her husband and children made it less lonely. She got to make new memories in this house, plagued by past ones of her coming to this house with no companions nor any knowledge of the area. Cecily had always been a lonely child, even in Wales, but moving to a new country, with no familiarity, no fond memories of her (then gone) siblings; she only had half of her father and a worried mother who fussed over Cecily, cried on her shoulder, made her carry the emotional burdens of Linette’s marriage.

Now Cecily felt stronger, like she could face these things. She could finally be her mother’s and father’s daughter, and not their savior; she didn’t have to be the solution to all of their problems.   

Ironic, that it took her having children for them to finally relieve her of that role. 

She didn’t particularly want to think about her parents right now, though. She turned around on the bed she was laying on and smiled at Gabriel. Their little family of four had piled into Cecily’s room, the mountain air finally getting to their heads and making them all drowsy. Well, all of them except Christopher. 

While Anna slept curled up against the crook of her fathers arm, Christopher was still fiddling with a clockwork toy of his that Cecily’s mother gifted him (it goes without saying that Cecily and Gabriel were not too pleased by this gift, for they didn’t have the best experiences with clockwork in the past, but for course they didn’t let it show, for that would be disrespectful to Cecily’s mother, who only had the best intentions).

Gabriel’s eyes were already drifting closed and Cecily felt herself do the same. Christopher also had a tired face to him, but he seemed to be fighting better than his family members.

“Kit, how about we put away the toy and go to sleep for a while?” Cecily said.

Kit didn’t reply, only continued to fiddle with the toy, as he usually did when he was very concentrated on something. 

“Kit,” Cecily repeated. 

The little boy looked up at her. “Would you like to put the toy away?”

“No thank you, Mam.” 

Gabriel grunted in laughter. Cecily didn’t have it in her to get angry with Kit, or try to scold him, when he so clearly wasn’t trying to be rude. He did in fact answer very politely, only he didn’t understand the meaning behind Cecily’s words. 

“Have you figured out how it works, son?” Gabriel asked.

Kit nodded with a yawn. 

“How about you explain it to us?” Cecily said, curling up on her side and hugging her son close to her body. 

Kit was very enthusiastic by this request, and began to explain what he had deduced about the mechanisms behind the contraption. Cecily was too tired to follow his string of thought, though she focused on his speech and how his words gradually became more slurred and spaced out. She couldn’t help but smile as he finally trailed off, words replaced by deep breathing. She saw that Gabriel too, had nodded off to sleep. She finally let her heavy lids shut and fell into a deep sleep, her smile remaining trained on her lips.

[paraheronstairs]

my ao3, fanfiction.net and wattpad history are coming with me into the grave, respectfully

[purplebass]

A Different Kind of Music - Wessa

Set a few months after Will and Tessa get married. So let's say 1880-1881. They are deciding how to renovate the ballroom of the Institute, but things take a different turn when they get creative. ;) This was inspired by the amazing hot art by the talented @/thorndale/elisial_art on tumblr/Instagram <;3 Warning: Mature

“This room is such a mess,” Will glared at the windows, where long drapes of red velvet hung on by a literal thread. “First thing we’ll change are these curtains, I don’t like red,” he flinched, as if red offended him for some reason. 

Tessa could only smile as they paced the ballroom together. She couldn’t believe it. Just a few months ago, they said their vows and they sealed their union. She was Tessa Herondale now, and even though not everybody saw it the same way, it didn’t matter to her. Only Will mattered, and the future they intended to build together in this place, which needed a little redecoration, according to him.

Keep Reading on A03 💜

[bangeejulss]

PINNED INFO✨

Juls (she/her), argentina, spanish 1st language, bilingual english.

fandoms

Harry Potter Universe:

mostly Marauders and Next gen (hpcc). Ships: wolfstar, scorbus, jilly, hinny, jeddy. Also supoort jegulus and drarry content tbh.

Teen Wolf:

my hyperfixation of the year is Stiles Stilinski, in every season, even void stiles.

The Maze Runner:

i ship newtmas but also like thomasxreader/newtxreader

Shadowhunters:

MALEC TIL THE END. The Infernal Devices (books), The Mortal Instruments (tv show).

Heartstopper:

not much to add, i love my gays and queers😭😭.

[yourwormfriend]

i'm gonna be honest with you guys, I am a little stuck on where I am at in my fan-fic... Sorry you guys. I know what I want to write in it. I just don't know how to write it. But don't worry my fellow icons, I won't abandon it. I will be working on a few other projects in the time being. Thank you so much everyone who reads, and supports my fan-fic! I will try my hardest to get unstuck from the block I have in my brain. I love you all and I hope to see you soon with my other projects!

the fic i am talking about is this one

[celias]

MASTERLIST

• THE SHADOWHUNTER CHRONICLES:

The Last Hours

Thomas Lightwood x Alastair Carstairs — “Never stop smiling.”

Christopher Lightwood — “Don’t you ever change.”

James Herondale x Cordelia Carstairs — “Are you cold?”

James Herondale x Cordelia Carstairs — “You smell nice.”

Lucie Herondale x Jesse Blackthorn — “The hidden Truth.”

James Herondale & Matthew Fairchild — “You’re a family.”

James Herondale & Matthew Fairchild — “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The Infernal Devices:

Will Herondale x Tessa Gray — “Hold my hand.” Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Gabriel Lightwood x Cecily Herondale — “Stay here tonight.”

Gabriel Lightwood x Cecily Herondale — “Can I join you?”

The Eldest Curses

Magnus Bane, Jace Herondale & Isabelle Lightwood — “You’re a family.”

The Mortal Instruments

Jace Herondale & Alec and Isabelle Lightwood — “You’re a family.”

The Wicked Powers

Kitty — “Don’t you ever change.”

• The Grisha Trilogy:

Genya Safin & Alina Starkov — “I don’t wanna be alone now.”

[caterpillarinacave]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy - Cassandra Clare Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Charlotte Branwell/Henry Branwell Characters: Charlotte Branwell, Henry Branwell, Granville Fairchild, Matilda Branwell, Charles Fairchild, Matthew Fairchild, Original Shadowhunter Character(s), just giving faces to characters who already exist Additional Tags: Character Death, Gambling, Family Issues, Angst, Fluff, depending on the chapter that it, Daddy Issues, actually just lots of issues, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Depression, shadowhunter fuckery, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Politics, Mommy Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Miscarriage Series: Part 1 of Pre-TID Summary:

Clockwork Prince: “Do you think I don't know about the money your father owed my father, or that my father promised to forgive the debt if youd marry me?…”

Chain Of Thorns “It seemed [Matthews] grandparents on his fathers side had left a great deal of money to Henry…”

 Shadowhunter families have always been full of secrets. Every family has them, twisted into their DNA, merging with each new generation, as characteristic as the way they smile or their fingerprints. Through the Shadowhunter Chronicles we have seen many of these secrets laid out in great detail, but what about one we didn't see? What created the anonymity between Granville Fairchild and Buford Branwell? What happened to the rest of the Branwell family? And, most notably, how did Matthew Fairchild inherit more than enough money to fund a trip to Paris. from a set of debt ridden grandparents, who'd been dead for decades? Well, why don't we find out

Or: I'm just fixing one of CCs plot holes. “

Just posted another chapter! Please go read it if you’d like, I like it a lot. 

[vwritesaus]

TSC WIP snippets pt. 1

this is a RATHER LONG POST sorry so i will put everything under the cut :>

to @faithfromanewperspective:

      ‘Is this Adelaide?’ Thomas asks in a high voice, his tone coloured with surprise. ‘I see no churches at all…’       ‘It’s just… sand,’ Alastair mutters by way of agreement. …       ‘Apologies for the intrusion,’ Thomas begins, grinning shyly, ‘but I think we’re lost.’       ‘Lost!’ The man bursts out into crowing laughter and slaps Thomas on the shoulder. Alastair winces from the force of the action and the sound echoing in the chamber. ‘Let me guess—you were bound for Adelaide?’       Thomas blinks. ‘How did you—?’       ‘You’ll be amazed how many Shadowhunters end up here instead of Adelaide,’ the man tells him. ‘I swear, ever since those Portals became popular, our travelling system has gone to the dogs! You can’t go wrong with a horse and carriage, or just a horse, but no—you simply must travel by Portal now. Extremely unreliable, I say.’

to my four lovely anons:

1—       When Thomas peers into the box, whatever remaining confusion was on his face vanishes. He stares blankly at the inside, his fingers frozen in place against the corners, and Alastair feels part of his stomach drop.              ‘Alastair… what is this?’ Thomas asks softly.        Alastair is grateful to find no disappointment or annoyance imbued in his voice—and then immediately chastises himself for thinking something so ridiculous in the first place. This is Thomas, the man who took his heart and holds it like it's precious and worthy and wanted. The man who saw past all the nastiness, the cold front Alastair had put up for so many years, and continued to love him regardless.       The man who Alastair wants to spend the rest of his life with, no matter the odds. So he clears his throat slightly, shaking away the anxiety, and says, ‘It’s my ring, Tom,’ as though he is merely commenting on the weather.       ‘I can see that,’ Thomas replies. He lifts his gaze and sets it on Alastair, his eyes glimmering with an emotion Alastair can’t quite put his finger on. ‘Why is it in a box?’

2—       ‘Your father won’t bite him,’ Sophie tells him, a shadow of an amused smile on her face. ‘I imagine he merely wants to get to know him better.’       Thomas shifts in his seat and glances once more at the open doorway Gideon and Alastair have just walked through.       ‘I know,’ he murmurs, ‘and for that, I’m so glad. Only, Alastair… I know he’s feeling nervous.’       ‘Whatever for, love?’       Smiling furtively, Thomas looks at his mother and says, ‘He wants to make a good impression. He’s very conscious of his—how did he put it? “Prickly personality”.’

3—       Charlotte came into this marriage with the sole belief that he’ll fall in love with her in time. That no matter how long it took, she would see it through for the rest of their lives. Because she loves him, and love withstands the test of time no matter how hard a situation becomes.       Now… now, she’s not so sure.       Perhaps it’s time to realise that Henry will never love her.But she loves him. She can’t deny that, and she never could. She loves him, and she’ll live with that knowledge until she draws her last breath. But she doesn’t know how much longer she can keep her true feelings behind an alabaster mask of indifference, or hide her face in the pillow when Henry looks at her for too long, or press down the flutters her heart does whenever he does something silly, or makes a breakthrough with an experiment, or merely smiles at her.       And yet, perhaps all she can do is break her heart fully and accept that, like her position at the London Institute, her marriage to Henry isn’t something that can last forever. That perhaps love can’t withstand the test of time, after all.       That not even five years of being together could have Henry fall in love with her.

4—       ‘There’s no need to panic,’ Thomas says softly. ‘I’m right here, aren’t I? You’re safe.’       There’s a beat of silence after Alastair sucks in a shuddering breath, during which he stares at Thomas with wild, terrified eyes. Then an odd flutter crosses his face, his expressive eyebrows dipping dangerously close to the middle of his forehead.       ‘I’m—I’m safe?’ he splutters. ‘You think… you think—? Oh you… you stupid man.’       He grabs Thomas by the shoulders, not giving the man a chance to feel anything except confusion, and shakes him violently.       ‘It’s not myself I’m worried about,’ Alastair croaks out. ‘It’s you.’

to @ibrushmyteeth-donttellanyone:

      ‘The point I wish to make,’ Alastair interrupts, ‘is that during that picnic, Fairchild and I had a rather… frank conversation.’       ‘About?’       ‘As far as I recall, it had something to do with an autumnal masquerade ball up in Cambridge which promises to have formal attire, a range of posh sorts, and an abundance of alcohol.’       Thomas blinks in astonishment. ‘Cambridge?’ he echoes.       ‘Quite,’ Alastair says in a sombre tone, and Thomas laughs. ‘Yet… I suppose it would be a different venture than our usual nightly strolls and patrols.’       ‘It would,’ Thomas replies with a nod.       ‘And it would be rather dire to attend such an occasion without Fairchild’s opulent outfits and charming personality, but it does bring forth the opportunity to be alone with each other without the need to entertain a third party.’       ‘I wholeheartedly concur with that statement.’       Alastair is about to say something else, but stops himself. He instead purses his lips and narrows his eyes at Thomas. Thomas merely stares back expectantly, trying his hardest to keep his expression neutral. He knows what’s about to happen, and grins inwardly when, like clockwork, Alastair visibly withers.        ‘Are you really waiting for me to ask?’ he states in exasperation.       A large smile overtakes Thomas’s face at the question, and he leans in until their noses are mere inches apart. He relishes how Alastair’s eyes widen at the sudden proximity—always so full of surprise whenever Thomas does this—and quickly kisses him before he can protest or say anything.       ‘You refer to waiting for my beloved to ask me to attend a masquerade ball with him in Cambridge, correct?’ Thomas lowers his voice until it’s the softest whisper and says with utmost severity, ‘If so, then yes, I am.’

and last, but certainly not least, to @drunkonimagination:

      ‘Welcome home.’ Pulling back slightly, Thomas kisses Alastair’s curved mouth and presses their foreheads together. ‘Goodness—Raziel, have I missed you.’       There’s a soft snort, and long fingers brush over Thomas’s shoulders. Alastair’s voice is light as he says, ‘Last I checked, Thomas, I am not Raziel. Have I been gone so long that you mistake me for an archangel?’       ‘Yes, mi amor,’ Thomas replies playfully, ‘you’ve been gone far too long. You must remind me exactly who you are, and it must be done now. Before it is too late and I forget who you are completely.’       Alastair laughs loudly, and is still laughing when Thomas presses fast kisses all over his face.

also yes you read that correctly, it does say "pt. 1". pt. 2 will be posted sometime this weekend, and it'll be snippets from the remaining chapters of dear christopher and ch2 of timeless, so stay tuned if you're interested!!! :D

[thefictioness]

Who wants pain and suffering? I've got some to spare :'3

A little something I conjured up about Jem's time of dying. Kind of a parallel to the epilogue about Will's.

Original work by @cassandraclare

[butmakeitgayblog]

One thing I struggle to understand is when in Fanfiction they describe Lexa with her long coat (magnificent by the way, it's my favourite outfit) and then they say that she needs to remove her armour... Where is the armour? Is it her coat? The belts around her waist? Is it under? I don't get it :-(

Yeah it's all that babe, she wears a lotta shit 😅

So like here, she's got

2 seperate shoulder guards

Chest chainmail

A leather waist guard thing idk

Wrist guards

Gloves

Thigh straps for her daggers (also look like they probably help with any chaffing lol)

Shin guards

Belt for her hip dagger

Here she's got

Pauldron

Leather waist guard thing idk

Gloves

Shin guards

Thigh straps for daggers

So yeah. Girlie came with a whole menagerie of bullshit that,,, we write about Clarke just tearing Heda's clothes off and having her way with her all the time but the reality would be that trying to get even remotely close to Lexa's Tids & Bits™ would require unbuckling and unstrapping so much shit?! Like just trying to get to the Heda tiddies alone would be a nightmare in the heat of the moment 🥴

[entropicbias]

my blog post

friends, i have just now realized that tumblr is also a blogging website. so, despite the fact that i have a blogspot, i will share some fun little tid bits about my world.

ok, so first of all, the star trek fever is hitting me just as hard as my regular fevers are hitting me. i've been sick three times in the past three months. probably cause my sister keeps finding a way to get some new strain of virus from eating dirt or whatever the hell she does on a regular basis.

asides from that, i've moved and my room is starting to get some personality. this was the state of my desk pre- me deciding that i couldn't deal with my 8 year old shitty slow lenovo all in one from 2016/2017 and also removing that unstable cardboard shelf with all my games and movies.

on the bright side, i moved a lot of my stuff to a bookshelf.

doesn't exactly look how i want it to, but i guess it'll do for now. there are more shelves to it, i just think they're super ugly in comparison cause they are filled with notebooks and books i need for uni.

back to my star trek fever, it has very recently taken over a good portion of my head. which is great! less room for homestuck, right? WRONG! homestuck is still also up there, which blows. it's been a few years y'know? i thought this would send it to the grave. well, i'm glad it hasn't. don't let the spider-man stuff fool you, if i had to put my biggest fandom interests in order it'd be homestuck, star trek, and ghostbusters.

so, immediately without thought i got as much star trek merch as i could with 50 bucks. that shelf lacked a communicator replica and those novels i got are also new. i also have a TNG shirt from 2001 now, which is awesome. i have not seen star trek tng yet, but i've surmised that i'll probably most definitely like it. i cannot believe patrick stewart has been an old man for almost 40 years. i was like, but he looked exactly like that in x-men? geordi even has the cyclops visor it's incredible. data seems super funny from the clips i have seen, so i'm looking forward to it. i have started to also be particularly fond of writing. i'm usually not good at stepping out of my comfort zone when it comes to that, cause i regard myself as a super shitty writer but spock and kirk's beautiful relationship have inspired me to give it a try, and i kind of liked it a lot. so, maybe i will try and do it for john and dave as well? sometimes with art i just cannot be assed, so maybe in my quest of trying to show the world how GOATED their friendship is i can whip up some fanfiction. entropicbias flavored.

anyways, more art soon. i know i have a lot of asks and stuff. sorry, i will get to them when i can. i think i regard this site as a Q/A type deal where i just take requests but i've decided that's kind of what my strawpage is for? so, i'll start posting more art and less requests and messages from my inbox that don't particularly interest me.

entropicbias OUT!