Platonic hug between Keith and Pidge? Maybe Pidge needs comforting after an anxiety attack or a battle and Keith helps her. Love your work, thank you!
I definitely remembered this wrong and did during an anxiety attack? Anyway, two hugs for the price of one! Awkward sidehug AND long-lasting hold-a-person hug!
They all knew Pidge took it rough when they encountered Galra slaves and her father wasn’t among them, but usually Shiro went to talk to her afterward, so Keith hadn’t thought about it much. He hadn’t felt like he had a right to talk to her about it, anyway, not since that time he told her her family wasn’t more important than the whole universe. That had been a bad play, and while he’d realized that at the time based on how the others had reacted, it hadn’t really sunk in until the Blades’ test.
He almost went and got Shiro, now. But Pidge wasn’t just crying, she was shaking, so hard he could see it from the door to Green’s hangar. That seemed like a whole different kind of bad, and he wasn’t sure getting Shiro was the right thing. He tentatively stepped into the room, but she was too wrapped up in her head to notice, and he suddenly knew he’d made the right choice.
“Hey, Pidge, are you ok?” he asked.
Pidge looked up at him from where she was sitting against the wall, eyes wide. Her face was flushed and her breathing was a little fast, like she’d been running. She shook her head, frantically, and his mouth went dry. No. She wasn’t. Of course she wasn’t.
He walked over her, searching for more words and not finding any. Finally, he slid down the wall to sit next to her, laying an arm tentatively around her shoulders. She reached up with the hand next to him and grabbed at his shirt. "I can’t breathe,“ she said. "I can’t breathe. I’m gonna pass out. I’m gonna die.”
“You’re not gonna die,” he said, tightening the arm around her a little. "I promise. I won’t let you.“
"I can’t breathe.”
“You can breathe. You’re talking, and you can’t talk without breathing.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was wrong. It was too logical. Not the kind of thing you said to someone when they were upset. But then -
“Oh. Yeah. Then why am I dizzy?”
“You’re maybe breathing too fast. That’s not good, either.”
“I think something’s crushing my chest.”
He blushed a little as he stared down at her, looking just long enough that she would know he’d checked, but trying not to stare too long. "I’m pretty sure it’s not. You look ok. Normal clothes and all.“
"I think I’m dying. Is my heart supposed to be going this fast?”
He checked her pulse, feeling the wrist of the hand that was tangled in his shirt. "No. But I think it’ll slow down if you can just breathe more deeply.“
”‘Just breathe more deeply’“ she parroted back sarcastically. The flush that had been across her face when he walked up was gone, replaced by an eerie paleness.
Keith bit his lip, then moved on impulse, pulling her almost all the way into his lap so that her side was snuggled up against his chest, his arm still around her shoulders. "Look, just lean into me and breathe when I do, ok? We can do it together.”
He could feel her trying to take slower, deeper breaths, but when he reached for her wrist again, her heart was still racing. She let go of his shirt, rearranging herself to recline more fully against his chest, and he kept one arm wrapped around her and the other hand on her wrist, feeling her pulse.
Her breaths gradually slowed and eased, and her heartbeat got steadier and more normal. He felt a knot of tension relaxing in his stomach and half wondered if Pidge could tell. He figured probably not, given how freaked out she still was.
Finally, Pidge relaxed completely, sagging into him and leaning her head back against his chest. "I’m such a mess,“ she said.
Keith shrugged. "I think we all are, sometimes. I used to sleep with my shoes on, in case we got attacked.”
“That seems like a rational response to being Voltron.”
“I used to sleep with my shoes on when I lived by myself.”
“Maybe less rational.”
Keith figured he probably should move. But Pidge seemed content to stay here, and she’d always been kind of huggy with Shiro sometimes, and maybe she still needed this, so he stayed put, trying not to move too much so that he didn’t ruin her fragile new calm.
“Anyway, thanks, Keith.” Pidge said after a moment. "For … whatever.“ She leaned forward, starting to get up, and Keith tried not to show how much of a relief that was as he scrambled to his feet behind her.
Before he could figure out what to say, she’d turned a bright smile on him and added, "You’re pretty great, you know that?”
He panicked. "You’re pretty … sweaty.“
Pidge laughed. "I take it back. You’re a jerk. But thanks anyway. I mean it.”
Keith blushed, looking down at his feet. "No problem.“
She didn’t say anything when he grabbed the socket wrench he’d come in here to borrow in the first place and then bolted, but later he overheard her telling Shiro that she was ok and he’d been "a big help,” and he could let himself feel proud, just for a minute, that he’d done something right.
@a-brave-turtle let me say something (please don’t feel like I’m attacking you, but since you mentioned I have to talk about lol) but I’m so freaking excited for next’s week episode!!! I mean, do I like the fact that Valentine is on Magnus body? Hell no. Magnus does not deserve to go through everything that is probably going to happen to him. He definitely doesn’t deserve to have a disgusting being like Valentine taking control of his body. Am I offended? Not really. It’s just a tv show. Next monday this plot will be over and we’ll have the Magnus we love back. I honestly don’t know why people are so stressed because of it. I mean…
But fuck I’m so hyped!!! Alan’s and Harry’s acting will be on point, no doubt. And I can’t wait to see how everything is going to play out. It’s going to be so interesting! I really hate the fact that we’ll have to see Magnus suffering, but thinking about the plot/acting, next week is going to be good!
I would like to start off by congratulating @askburntrinandfrigidlen / @pikavoca for being the first one to solve it. She was kind enough to send me records of the work process (which has proved to be a great source of entertainment). It will be under the read more, as well as my explanation and the long awaited answer.
Title: Show and Tell
Fandom: The Walking Dead Pairing: Rick Grimes/Michonne Rating: M Summary: Aaron volunteers to join
Rick and Michonne on their next scavenging trip and, despite his good
intentions and their best efforts, they’re both far from pleased. Author’s Note: Here goes my first
foray into the Richonne fandom—I can only hope I did the fabulous pairing
Spoilers for 7x12.
“I could’ve gone a couple more days.
I would have liked that,” Rick had said.
And, if she’s honest with herself,
she would have to.
If she’s honest with herself (and
she has no reason not to be at this stage), she doesn’t think she’s had what
she has with Rick with anyone else. Mike came close during the good days, she
thinks, but it didn’t stick.
When things fell apart, Mike fell
apart with them, and there was no bringing him back—not for anything or anyone.
That’s not to say that Rick hasn’t
had his fall from grace, more than once by all accounts; but he always came
back (to Carl and Judith, to the group, to her).
The time they spent on the road,
alone, together, only served to
cement her belief that this was it for the both of them. The things he said,
the things they did—it was what she wanted that, again and again and again.
And so, when Aaron volunteers to
join them on their next scavenging trip, Michonne’s heart drops in a way that doesn’t
quite surprise her.
It makes sense that he’d want to
come, makes sense that they seek they increase their numbers on these runs because,
as capable as the two of them are, there are a myriad of things that can go
wrong without another pair of eyes.
But, there’s so much more that can
go right when it’s just the two of
It takes her mere seconds to see
that Rick feels the same way.
He’s quiet throughout the day,
supplying her with little more than small smiles and short answers when
prompted with questions, clearly lost in thoughts she isn’t privy to just yet.
It isn’t until she’s put Judith to
sleep and joined him in the kitchen that she’s finally awarded with the clarity
He has two of the ready-to-eat meals
they found laid out with a single candle between them, an arrangement that
pulls something at the pit of her stomach. Who would have guessed that Rick
Grimes was a romantic of the highest caliber after all?
“We really hit the jackpot that day,
didn’t we?” She smiles, seeking to lighten the mood before prying.
“Yeah, we did,” he says.
In more ways than one, she thinks, but
does not say.
“Aaron wants to join us, one our
next run,” he says after a few moments of silence.
She stops chewing almost instantly,
and looks up to find him watching her. She wonders if he can see the enormous pit
that just landed in her stomach, the disappointment that settles into the back
of her throat.
“What did you tell him?” She asks
with a casualness that she does not feel.
“What could I tell him?”
And he’s right, he is. How were they
to turn away help they so desperately needed?
“Well, the more, the merrier, right?”
“No,” he simply states.
“I know, I know. I’m being selfish,”
he shakes his head, and her palm finds its way to his cheek before her mind
directs it. “It’s just… it was good. Just the two of us, doing our thang out
there. I liked that.”
“I did too,” she admits.
They’re silent for a few moments,
his head bowed in what she knows is a keen disappointment.
Suddenly, before she spares a
thought for what she’s doing, she leans closer to him, close enough that she
can bring her lips right against his ear.
“You know what else I like?” She
whispers, her lips brushing against the lobe in a way that draws a deep sigh from
“What?” He asks without turning to
her, eyes closed and breathing heavy as she buries her fingers in the curls at
the nape of his neck (the way she knows he likes).
“This,” she tilts her head to the
side, and presses her lips over his own, an invitation he’s clearly been
waiting for if the way he instantly deepens the kiss is any indication.
They stay like that for a while,
exploring each other in the leisurely way she’s grown to love until he pulls
back, forehead resting against hers while his hands cup her face as if it’s the
most precious thing that’s ever stood between them.
“What else–what else do you like?”
He pants, and she can already feel herself growing wet.
She spares a brief thought for the
fact that Carl isn’t home, and can potentially walk in on them any minute,
before throwing caution to the wind.
She cups him though his jeans, and
it’s obvious that she isn’t the only one who’s getting worked up. His constant
hunger for her is another thing her body is still adjusting to, the intensity
of it–the sheer frequency.
She’s stoking him now, and she can
feel him growing harder still as her palm traces the length of him. He places
his hand over her own, putting an end to her ministrations. It jars her enough
that she tilts her head back so she can get a good look at him.
“Tell me what you like,” He says
again, voice still raspy, but more than a whisper.
She swallows, unsure how to proceed.
She’s no stranger to heated sex, far from it, but words don’t normally play a
role. How can she tell him that she likes (loves)
him, every brush of his hand, every kiss, every inch of him sliding in and out
“You,” she simply states.
His eyes soften and, just like that,
he’s kissing her again, nearly frantic in his movements before he wraps both
hands around her waist and places her on the table directly before him.
His heat emboldens her, and the
moment she’s able to break the kiss, she speaks.
“I like the way you look at me,” she
whispers, and he pulls back to study her with hooded eyes, travelling from the
planes of her face, to the exposed skin of her chest just above the opening of
her tank top.
He takes his seat again, confusing
her momentarily before he speaks.
“Show me then,” he gestures to her
shirt, no doubt promoting her to remove it.
She doesn’t need to be asked twice,
pulls it over her head in one swift motion, and is left in nothing but her
black lace bra and his eyes mapping out a heated trail over her bare skin.
When his eyes meet hers again, she’s
already undoing her bra, one quick click before she’s pulling the straps off
her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.
He swallows then, and she knows it’s
taking everything he has not to lay her across the table and bury himself
inside her then and there.
She makes quick work of her jeans
next (though she needs to stand for this one, close enough that he’d barely
have to reach forward to touch her), but something keeps her from moving right
to her underwear.
When Rick senses her hesitation, he
gestures to her mid-section, wordlessly prompting her to remove them like she
did everything else.
But something is still holding her
back, keeping her from treading past the full-blooded state of exposure
eliminating the garment will leave her in.
As if sensing her hesitation, Rick
wraps both his hands around her waist, drawing her nearer.
He places an open-mouthed kiss on
each of her breasts, the feel of his tongue and the scrape of his beard
eliciting a quiet moan from her. He kisses his way down her stomach, all the
way down to her navel, where he plants another kiss through the fabric of her
He wraps two fingers around the thin
fabric, slowly drawing it down her legs until she’s lifting one foot, and then
the other, to be rid of it completely.
He wastes no time in setting her
atop the table again, drawing her legs wide open so he can stare right at her
center, so two of his fingers can rub against the wetness of her lips and drive
her mad with the need of him. The heat she feels blooming across her cheeks is
“You like that?” he drawls, his
breathing just as heavy as hers.
“Yes—oh, yes,” she moans.
He sticks both fingers inside her
then, pulls them in and out with the sound of her wetness making the gesture
seem almost obscene.
She pulls him in for an open-mouthed
kiss, while his fingers work to drive her mad. He curls them inside her, just
the way she likes, and her moans between kisses are growing louder than she’d
normally let them.
She needs him, all of him, now.
It’s with that resolve that she
begins undoing his belt, her hands moving with a practiced precision that her
mind can’t quite mimic.
When she pulls the length of him out,
long and hard, she begins stroking him just way she knows he likes. She’s
awarded with a long sigh and a shudder that has him breaking this kiss.
It’s his turn to find himself at a
loss for words, and it has her smiling. She seizes the moment.
“I like when every inch of you is
inside me,” she whispers against his ear, and, vaguely, she thinks that this
may be the most brazen thing she’s ever said to a man.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, before
raising both her thighs, pulling her against him, and sliding the entire length
of his cock into her with one solid thrust.
She gasps, her head falling back
while his lips latch onto her neck, sucking and biting as he’s thrusting in and
out of her, fast and hard and desperate.
“It’s good?” he pants against her,
and it takes a few moments for the words to register with her.
“Yes, so—so good,” she moans back.
It doesn’t take more than a few trusts
to have her coming undone, the angle and the work his fingers put in before
paying off in the best of ways.
She stifles her small scream against
his lips, still taken aback by the desperate sounds he manages to draw from
He comes undone very soon after,
pulling out just in time, his seed a stark contrast against the skin of her
He grabs the nearest cloth and
begins cleaning them both up, as is his habit, head bowed and eyes focused on
his work. She succumbs to the urge to pull him in for a kiss on the cheek, his
stubble prickling the skin of her lips in a way she’s grown to love.
“Next time,” She whispers, “you’re going to
tell me what you like.”
I wanted to write a fic in which Belle meets season 1 Gold and they screw their brains out. Unfortunately my own brain wanted to take its time over the set-up, so it ended up way longer than I’d planned. Therefore it’s no longer a one-shot, but a five-chapter fic. However, the smut definitely happens, because I’ve written it :) Overall rating E (obvs, it’s me) but this chapter T
They’d been telling her she was mad for years, but she didn’t feel it. Perhaps that was the drugs they kept her on, but she didn’t think so. Besides, she had stopped taking those some time ago, pushing them into the side of her cheek and waiting until the severe nurse who brought them to her twice a day nodded and left, then stashing them under her mattress until she could slip them down the drain in the showers. Coming off the meds had made her brain clearer, her thoughts more coherent. It didn’t help with the dreams, but no one believed those anyway. Perhaps she really was mad.
She shook her head, walking quickly with her head bowed and her arms wrapped around herself, the cold air exhilarating on her skin after so long staring at the same four walls. Dusk had fallen, and the streets were quiet, but she was still attracting some curious looks, dressed as she was, and she quickened her pace. Dr Hopper had given her a bag with some clothes and shoes and some money, and told her she was free to go. She still didn’t know why, and from the stricken look on his face, he wasn’t sure either.
Bucky, like most of the other Avengers, lived off coffee and takeout. It was one of the simple pleasures in life, and like cheese, it got better with age. Especially now that they had coffee creamer and Starbucks. In the thirties it was black and bitter and the first time he tried it he wanted to spit it out. This stuff, however, was heaven in a Styrofoam cup.
The whole heaven thing stopped when he walked out of the subway station and into a flock of green ducks.
He didn’t like ducks, but he didn’t hate then either. As long as they minded their own business they wouldn’t get shot. But these ones… well, lets just say he was ready to make an exception. Because these weren’t your average green ducks. All of them were just… glowing green with beady red eyes that vaguely reminded him of the little squirt’s nemesis, Plasmius. How Danny got a Twilight wannabe to hate him so much, well, that was still a bit of a mystery.
People who walked past didn’t pay much attention, oddly enough. Just avoided them while they talked on the phone or tweeted about their new orange overlord.
“Come on,” Bucky said, walking towards the flock of ducks. “Shoo! Go on, get outta here,” his Brooklyn accent was unmistakable as he waved his arms at the waterfowl.
At that moment he knew he fucked up.
All of them seemed to share a brain as they flew clumsily toward him, latching their bills onto different parts of his body. They got his hand, two were on either leg, and their was one hanging from his metal arm, trying to get a better grip through the clothing.
If a little girl hadn’t made eye contact with him when he dropped his coffee all over himself he would have started screaming bloody murder. There goes his little slice of heaven.
Every tine he pulled one off they would either turn intangible and his hand would go right through them or they would just fly back onto him. After almost ten minutes if this he gave up trying, and sulked his way down the sidewalk to the Tower, which was, of course, seven blocks away.
This is just like the time with the ghost hot dogs, Bucky thought bitterly.
45 painstaking minutes later he walked through the front doors of the tower, ignoring the stares of Stark’s staff, and brushing off Happy Hogan as he pushed his way into an elevator. It stopped twice on the way up, and both times the people who had needed on said they would catch the next one. It’s okay though, he didn’t want to talk to people anyway.
By the time he made it to the living room he was sure, so sure, that he was gonna make Clint more dead than their resident ghost boy. Because as soon as he walked through those nice, pristine, expensive doors, Clint was all over him like the ducks attached to his legs and arms.
He was cooing at them, acting as if they were so fucking innocent with their death grips and hatred of him for no fucking reason.
Barton the Dog Whisperer though could apparently talk to more than just dogs because with just a little bit of persuasion they had all come and followed him (and some bread he pulled out of nowhere) and curled up on the floor next to him, literally eating out of his hand.
“Are you fucking serious right now?’ Bucky raised his voice in frustration, blowing some loose strands of hair out of his face.
Barton just shrugged and continued feeding them, and Bucky could swear one of them was laughing at him. Oh, if they weren’t already dead…
When Danny got home the last thing he expected to find was those loose ghost ducks curled up in Clint’s side sleeping, while he was also sleeping, and a moody Bucky glaring at them from across the room tending to some nasty looking red marks on his legs. He glared at Danny and shook his head before going back to his legs without a word. Danny just shrugged and pulled out his thermos.
We’re still right in the middle of switch up week. No idea what the next chapter will be though. Might need one more switch up week chapter before I jump into Disney week. We’ll see…
James ran into rehearsal a few minutes late. He had come to realize this morning that, as he would be rehearsing first thing in the morning and Sharna didn’t have to be in until the afternoon, neither one of them seemed in any rush to get out of bed and spend the day apart. When he told her that he should be getting up and getting ready to head for the studio, it only took one smile from her to convince him otherwise. Of course, five more minutes then turned into half an hour.
Jenna was already there and so were a couple producers with cameras, but they were still just starting to get set up. When he hurried over to Jenna, her eyes were wide.
“Sorry,” he said breathlessly, dropping his bag on the floor. “I know I’m -.”
“I’m going to kill you,” Jenna muttered, glancing once at the camera crew on the far side of the room. This seemed to be an awfully strong reaction considering he wasn’t even fifteen minutes late. But then he saw a smile spread across her face. “You moved in together?!” she hissed, keeping her voice very low. “How come you didn’t tell me?!”
lBOLD what your muse can do. REPOST, don’t reblog. TAG ten muses.
bake a cake from scratch | ride a horse | drive a submarine | speak a second language| dance | catch a fish | play an instrument | throw a punch | build a deck | ice skate |unclog a drain | program a computer | change a flat tire | fire a gun | sew | juggle |play poker |paint|fly a kite | sculpt | write poetry | change a diaper | sing | shoot a bow and arrow | ride a bike|swim| sail a boat | do a backflip | play chess | give cpr | pitch a tent |flirt| stitch a wound| read palms | use chopsticks | write in cursive/calligraphy | use an electric drill |braid hair | make a campfire | make a mixed drink | do sudoku puzzles | wrap a gift | give a good massage | jump-start a car | roll their tongue | magic tricks | yoga | tie a tie | skip a rock | shuffle a deck of cards | read morse code | pick a lock
Mason was finding it impossible to keep his hand from resting against Liana’s tiny bump any time they were near one another. He loved the way his fingers played across the stretched skin. Loved the knowledge that their child was growing and developing perfectly normally. That despite so many other heartbreaks and tragedies, so far everything was okay.
As he settled beside her on their couch, dinner plates still on the coffee table, he could stop his wandering hand from settling in what had become its usual spot. “I love you. You amaze me, you know that?”
so i’m back from minncon!! or rather ROB PLS LET ME LIVE…CON
so to start out, i’ll explain this con’s comic a little better! after the SNS, i stayed around for quite a while talking and meeting up with friends i haven’t seen in a long time! it was really great, until security kicked us out at about 1AM. i lamented and realized i had no one to walk back with, but the trek was only about a block away, so i figured “eyyy, what could happen in that time”
…and then about 2/3 of the way there, i thought i was being abducted by the government because of a GIGANTIC shiny black SUV that was approaching me. TURNS OUT it wasn’t the gov’t, swain was actually headed back at the same time i was! i was spotted and shouted at, and bid farewell by the band. SO I LIVED! and i told them they scared the shit outta me the following afternoon bc i thought The Man was after me and billy said i deserved to have nice things shouted at me from strange vehicles. i then died
ALSO, I DID AS I PROMISED. i got rob’s auto, brought him god’n’gabe 3, and told him in exchange i wanted to know if it was cool to get a Robert Patrick Benedict original piece. a stick rob. HE WAS SO EXCITED, THOROUGHLY AGREED, AND ONE-UPPED ME BY MAKING IT MORE THAN A STICK MAN. he also walked me through his process, said it was all in the way he adds his beard, and told me if i needed any art lessons to give him a call. i told him i was honored
AND SPEAKING OF AWFUL THINGS, i’d heard the photographer good mr. schmelke needed to talk to me, and it was literally just to shut me down in compliment form. he insisted we take a selfie, and we proceeded to make fun of my shitty phone. and i got a swain op with @truebluecas THAT WAS A MESS. a mess. we wanted to do the End of Song Rock Jump
™ but strob couldn’t nail the jump timing. we decided on a jump on silent 3, did 3 takes, got a workout, and 3 hilarious photo prints out of it. my face, you guys. it says it all
so in as short as possible, the rest of the con was great. i asked bri about the cat that sharted on her, and got the 1st q of the koc panel! turns out a composer from spn is helping on the OST for the show YEA!! i livetweeted stephen norton messing around during the entirety of J3′s panels, but i spent about 85% of my time vending. which, btw, EVERY SINGLE BOOK SOLD OUT. so that’s incredible. and it was so great to see so many of you in person. seriously. thank you for everything.
road tripping with @neven-ebrez and @benny-la-phat was a BLAST (despite my incredibly telling and embarrassing sunburn + 3 near-death experiences i was surprisingly calm during) and i roomed with all sorts of fantastic people i’m happy to call friends now. they found out i REALLY love cake.
SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG-WINDED, but honestly, to everyone that stopped by and visited me, bought things, gave me freakin’ hAND-MADE GIFTS, OR just wanted a hug–thank you. you made this con, per usual. i hadn’t been feeling so hot lately, but i can’t deny it, none of you picked me up from it. no, you THREW me from it. i am eternally grateful!!
So this is the first new post that I am doing since making my account here and I am also doing this on my Birthday, so I hope you enjoy. I have been working on this for the past few hours and am a little exhausted now. I hope that you will all enjoy reading!
I also want to thank xcamay for proof reading this and also offering her help during the writing stages.
Surprise, surprise ––– I disappeared for two months again and am back with a PSA! I’m going to be straight with y’all ––– absolutely no beating around the bush ––– I get very easily over-whelmed by this blog (and honestly this community) for a variety of reasons. That’s one of the main reasons this cycle of my disappearing for a bothersome amount of time has persisted. I get over-whelmed, get uncomfortable, and wind up avoiding it all. I really hate that I do that tbh. I hate that I love these characters so much, love writing as them so much, yet avoid them for months on end. I hate that it has reached a point that for a while now I have been seriously debating deleting this blog altogether and not writing Aro and Didyme again. Part of why I have been avoiding this blog is so I don’t hastily delete it before I’ve tried out some alternatives. Because I DON’T want to give up on them. I don’t.
So, here’s what I’m going to do:
I am going to be greatly limiting both the number of people I interact with as well as the number of interactions I have going on at one time. I have tried to be as open to interacting with as many people as I possibly can in the past (lmao even though I’m the WORST at reaching out to people), but it’s just resulted in the worst activity and many threads that go nowhere (all my fault honestly). I’m probably not going to post starter calls anymore (not that I did all too often before). I’m probably only going to do plotted threads (or at least heavily favor them). I’m going to limit the amount of threads I have going at one time. I’m just basically going to be more discerning in the threads I take on so I can hopefully keep my activity consistent for once in my life. Because it kills me when I start threads and they wind up being dropped because I get over-whelmed and disappear for a long time.
That means this blog will probably be more ask and headcanon based, but let’s be honest here, it has been for a long time. Questions ––– be they in character questions or headcanon questions ––– generally take less time and are less draining. I can pop them out more quickly when I actually sit down to do them. I will still be open to roleplaying as Aro and Didyme, but it will most likely be on a relatively smaller scale with a smaller number of people.
As I enact these changes, I don’t know how much of an actual change from the norm they’ll be (probably not much lbh) aside from that it is my earnest desire that they enable me to be on here regularly rather than getting over-whelmed and hiding. But, if at any point y’all have any feedback or questions and/or wish to jump ship, as always I shall not be the least bit offended!
As always, I hope y’all are doing well, and if you’re not, I hope things look up very soon! <3