writing blog

should do a quest drabble i’llll brainstorm

cannot wait for adoai bc my current bloomic coping headcanons are commiserating w the LIs (xyx) about work and billable hours

you could take the bloomic cast to a maggie rogers concert and fall deeper in love okay

UGH bloomic us really so real and true to not only just niche online communities but also just i can see bits and pieces if my homies in the cadence, tone and feelings… im biting my arm thinking about how good the writing is passing away irl

writing a toaster fic about my insane ffxiv experiences

notes: happy birthday toasty dude, i just. i think toaster should couple cosplay michel fata morgana. for me. (also grats toaster ur birthday is on patch day how freaking cute is that) They hold off on the usual coloring at your insistence. You bat your lashes, all sorts of ridiculous and beg them to be “you’re white hair anime boy.” Toaster lets out a loose laugh at that, nervous and flattered all at once. ( “Honey, is it not enough to do cosplay matchies in ffxiv?”) Just a one time deal, because frankly, you’d be lost without the pink staining your bathroom sink and tower of Olaplex stacked for the shower.  The pink fades from a soft sunset to a softer blonde, but Toaster still insists on getting it touched up at the salon, despite your insistence to let it be. “I’ll love you white haired anime boy or not!”  “Remember that when I make bad static glamour decisions.” Toaster says, kissing your temple.  You kiss him back, waving him off with a smile. “Don’t worry, I always blame Xyx for those.”  .  The white hair makes your breath catch. Toaster wraps his arms around you, their chin resting on your head. “So I’m your Michel, huh?” “Well, you’ll always be my Toaster, first.” You clasp their hand tightly, and beam up at them. “Baby, it’s actually killer when you’re cute like that.” He groans, burying into your neck, pulling you closer on their lap, before you could say even more embarrassing things. There’s a cozy silence between you two, wrapped up and cuddled, till Toaster let’s out a sleepy mumble. “You’re totally my Giselle.”