#argghhhhhhhhh

don't cry achilles. patroclus was probably just your tammy anyway

*actively does myself psychic damage by thinking about daffbit because it's all yearning right now*

“I totally, absolutely wanna get this fic finished and posted within two days,” I say to myself, as I browse youtube and tumblr and do basically anything but writing said fic.

"The gardens of the Kharidge Castle are gorgeous, lined with rows of black roses and shimmering, wet snowdrops, all planted by the King’s callused hands. It’s a well-known fact that the shadows know his secrets, but Finley begs to disagree; Arun, his name is, loves flowers. He would spend his days in the gardens, when she knew him, on his knees, hands dirty rather than inky. She recalls, a vague, wisteria-smelling memory, and his voice floods his mind, as she gets pulled through these gardens." wrote this a while back and love the way i did it

I love it when photoshop won’t let me export my stuff bc of an unknown error. it’s so much fun :))))))

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