Pls Read - Blog Posts

can i change the world?

The fact I’m a child concerns me. I'm fifteen as of now. I'm impulsive and make stupid decisions with those impulses. My voice sometimes increases to the point where my throat hurts with how high-pitched I'm talking and other times it's so monotone my head starts to hurt. I'm still figuring out life while others are far beyond me with knowledge. I think I know better and the world somewhat revolves around me and, as I'm writing this, it proves I still think that. The point I'm trying to make is I can't change the world. 

I could be like Gretta Thunberg who's changing the world one speech at a time. But the problem is I'm not. Unlike her, I still feel like a child. A kid whos worried about what I'm going to wear tomorrow and spends an ungodly amount of time on her phone. I'm a Gen Z kid who relates too much with others yet not at all. A baby who hopes to be better. Better at being a kid or adult or better at just everything.

I can't make life-changing art even if I wanted to, having the power to move someone through paint or word seems too daunting. When I grow older I wish to have a stable job and even more stable relationships. And I get that will be weird to some that I don't want to be rich and famous, like many others, but the pressure of that lifestyle is not something I want to bear. I dont want to stand out, and if I can't stand out, how will I change the world? The simple fact is I won't. Won't even dent it. Not a scratch. I'm okay with this as a child you have to be. 

Knowing whatever you do now whether great or small will always be clouded with the knowledge you're a kid from others. Because I'm ‘good at that for a kid’ and ‘you'll be better when you're an adult. 

I won't make art that will change generations’ mindset and I can't fight wars or be a part of something big because I'm a child…

I feel like I'm making excuses. 

Could I change the world? 

Or fight wars?

Or sow that dress I want to?

Am I making excuses?

I won't ever know because ill lay in bed on my phone watching adults do just that.

FUCK I LOVE THIS FIC, PLEASE READ IF YOU LIKE PIRATES

This shit had me fucking balling. As someone who has seen the movie and wants to read the book I wasn’t expecting to cry as much as I did, I think the gays got to me. If you get the chance please do read this and if you haven’t please also at least watch the movie.

hi! pls read!!

i'm taking a break from tumblr! i'm not sure how long it will last but i need some time away from everything for a little bit. i started this blog back in august, only a couple months after the loss of a very close family member. i guess i started it so i could cope with my loss but i ended up putting too much on my plate. i haven't fully processed everything and i don't think i'll be able to for a while. but i think taking this break will give me enough breathing room. i'm not sure if i'll still post fics and nothing else, but i will pop in from time to time to see what's going on. i love this fandom and it's really helped me cope but right now i'm just a little overwhelmed. you guys have been the absolute sweetest and i'm so thankful for that!! but i need to invest all of my time into myself right now, i hope you all can understand. just remember, my inbox is always open if you need to chat!

thank you for reading if you made it this far :) and thank you for all your support! it means more than you’ll ever know <3

Mer JL au:

Barry: Indo-Pacific Sailfish.

(These baby boys are the speedsters of the ocean, and their really cute. I love them, I love him, it works. I’m a big fish person if you can’t tell. And the retractable fin can be purple or blue, and its interchanges with the weather for him. Fast as flip boi.)

Dick/Richard: Four-Winged Flying Fish.

(I know everyone says he’s a flying fish, and I agree! But I’d prefer if people started naming which one. i know there’s at least six different types of flying fish, and I’d like that acknowledged. Anyway, I think the four wing suits him best. Their more powerful and look much cooler. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.)

Hi! Author’s note, thank you for all your support for the first part and second part of my story! I’m really glad you all are enjoying and apologise for the late chapter, I’ve just been de-motivated and tired. But I hope you enjoy either way! Please LMK any ideas, enjoy part three!

Every part I think I’m just going to try to add two more species of Mer, like I did in the first part. The first part will be linked under the people who asked to be tagged, if you want to be tagged PM me.

Tagged:

@ancientdreams-in-a-modernland

Part one linked: Clark finds himself a friend. Bruce finds himself a meal ticket.

Chapter Two: Clark almost gets caught. Bruce tries to communicate with him.

chapter four: Clark finds the family. Bruce needs a nap.

Enjoy the story!

----------------------------------------------------------

The meeting, in fact, was a fluke. It was called automatically when one of the members got hurt and it sent out an alert which called the meeting. Barry didn’t get hurt per se. he just decided it’d be a fun idea to try out-swim a boat and crashed into it. So, the alarm went off because he got a blood nose. Clark was upset but decided to just continue on with his day.

He went back to the reef daily to look for Bruce. He honestly missed the other, they never really spoke, but he felt listened to when they were together. Well, he liked to think he was listened to. He had spent the morning in his apartment writing a report. It wasn’t the most fun, but by the time lunch rolled around he was definitely ready for a break.

He heads off on his way to the reef again, holding his pad and trying to memorize the flash pattern he figured out last time from Bruce. When he got there, he weaved in and out of coral, taking note of the damage, it had sustained. “not good,” Clark mumbled, running his fingers over a part that had a particularly nasty gash in it. He winced.

Clark saw a flash of black and turned with a grin. Seems Bruce had been looking for him too. Bruce sat perched on a piece of coral, looking down his nose at Clark intimidatingly, as if still trying to show Clark they weren’t buddy-buddy. Clark thought Bruce was being funny, a little bit dramatic. Until he saw a flash of silver behind the other. Peaking over Bruce’s shoulder was a Mer-pup, no older than 12, starring at Clark. He clearly wasn’t the same species of Bruce, not even close to it.

Dick was a four-winged flying fish Mer, silvery blue in colour and absolutely stunning. He had short, thick and plentiful black hair like a dark crown contrasting with his tan skin. He had a freckle under his eye, and when he made eye contact with Clark he waved slightly, wings twitching absentmindedly.

Clark waved back, staring at the pup. He was surprised Bruce had a pup, let alone one that seemed too attached to him. He was about to speak but heard a quiet. “hello.” From Dick. Clark didn’t know he could talk. “Uh- hi? What’s your name? kid?” he asked, about to swim closer, Bruce coiled himself. He was normally ok with Clark, but this was the first time Bruce brought his pup to meet him. He was a bit more hostile than usual.

Dick frowned and nuzzled under Bruce’s chin till he calmed down, before responding. “I’m Richard. But everyone calls me Dick.” He said, grabbing Bruces hand.

“My dad told me you’ve been meeting with him?” Dick asked, curious.

“Yeah,” Clark said feeling slightly confused, but mostly intrigued. “You can communicate with him? How?”

“Flashes,” Dick said, pointing at Bruces tail. As id sensing it, Bruce twitched his tail, flicking Dicks finger while Dick chuckled.

“I had to learn to decipher them quick, you know? He did take me in.”

Clark’s expression softened at Dicks words, eyes flicking to Bruce, who looked at Clark as if daring him to hurt his baby. “So, he isn’t your biological dad?”

Dick held back a laugh at that, staring at Clark. “Were two different species completely? That’s ridiculous. He took me in when my parents passed. Even if he doesn’t speak English, he understands it. He’s a good dad. For the most part.”

Clark smiled. It was cute, seeing the small bright pup talking to his dad. Who was currently eyeing Clark like if he fucked up his guts would decorate the ocean floor. Clark knew he was being tested. And he was not going to lose this time. Not now, not ever.

“You hungry, kid?” he asked with a smile. “oh, yeah! Dad said the fish here are good. And that he doesn’t have to catch them because you do- “

Bruce covered dicks face with his tail, a small flush dusting his cheeks.

“ - . ~  - - -  /  -.. ~ ..  ~ -.-. ~  -.-“

Bruce flashed, giving the pup a look, as he made an embarrassed face. Dick huffed and stuck his tongue out, but Clark got the idea and went to go grab some fish.

Clark knew the other adult was embarrassed, but he couldn’t help but smile to himself as he hunted. He was slowly building trust with the other. He knew Bruce talked- well communicated with his kid about him when they were home. He knew Bruce had a kid now. Hell, since dick spoke English maybe he could get dick to write what the flashes were- or even just the key so he could learn to talk with Bruce on his own.

When Clark got back, he gave dick a fish and Bruce the rest. Bruce, as per normal, ate in regal silence. Simply enjoying his meal. He reluctantly let Clark sit next to his Pup, eyeing the two frequently as they spoke. But Bruce knew his pup needed someone to talk to. Especially if he couldn’t offer that part to him. So he let the two talk.

Meanwhile Dick and Clark were working. Clark had handed Dick his JL pad. Probably against the protocol, he knew it. But he took it to the personal notes side. Dick had walked him through what the flashes meant, helping write down some of the basic words then a key for an alphabet. Dots were short and sharp flashes, lines were flashes that lasted a second, after each letter the light would flicker, and after a word the flashing would stop for three full seconds. 

It was incredibly helpful to Clark.

Dick did enjoy his fish, not as much as his dad but he had a thought that his dad came here mostly to look at the other, bright mer. The fact that his father was an excellent hunter was not lost on him.

When it got dark dick said his goodbyes, smiling at Clark and tagging along with his father as they swam off. Clark was about to turn and leave when he caught Bruce’s eye. Bruce had looked over his shoulder to Clark, and Clark felt the air knocked out of him when before Bruce disappeared with his pup into the dark, he smiled at Clark softly.

And gave him a little wave.

•°•Rules•°•

Dni:

Fujoshis (or anyone who fetishizes these stuff)

Homophobic/anti lgbtqia+/racist ect ppl

If you're rude/disrespectful, this is a safe place for everyone and I don't want any problems pls, you will be blocked otherwise

If you ask anything romantic/sexual with a child character/reader, if I see this shit then ur blocked without a second thought

Will do:

Male and GN readers

Au's (though it depends on the au ur asking)

Platonic/sibling relationships between the reader and the character(s)

Crossovers (again, it depends on the crossover ur asking)

Character!reader (I mean, I will try)

Won't do:

Character x Character

Fem readers, there are already more than enough blogs willing to write for them

Adult x minor (I didn't think I had to put this but just in case)

Heavy angst (there might be exceptions tho)

Yandere (I've never written for them so maybe I'll write for em in the future)

Lucio from the arcana, the request doesn't matter, I just won't write for him (unless I'm bullying making fun of him)

Fandoms I write for:

Obey me shall we date

Genshin impact

The arcana game

Howls moving castle

Our life beginnings and always

my teeth in your heart → xiao

00. An Amputated Soul

DESCRIPTION: in liyue, wuwang hill is spoken of as the place where the dead dwell, and there’s a fable that’s oft–repeated among the youth of qingce village. xiao knows this tale, he witnessed it firsthand, and it is as familiar to him as the wind that he coils between his fingers. he does not speak of it much, for who is he to tell it to? all he knows is that the memory is prevalent as the disembodied whispers of karmic debt that call his name.

DISCLAIMER: gender neutral reader. brief mentions of nudity and death. multi-chapter fic.

WORD COUNT: 3k.

It’s a strange sensation.

There’s no pain, just an all-consuming numbness that spreads throughout your entire body. Your fingers flex, although you’re barely able to make sense of their movements. You can only recognize the metronome of your heartbeat as you float wistfully, the blood in your veins roaring so loud that all other sounds fall deaf to your ears. This serenity, a moment free from shouldering the hardships of the world, seems all too foreign for you, although you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

Here, you drift in the endless cosmos, wet and thick. You’re untethered, a lone particle with no sense of gravity in the middle of space. Reality seems discombobulated, and life consists of fractured memories that you’re unable to put together, as if you are missing the puzzle pieces necessary to do so. There’s a heavy pounding in your temples, and the tresses of your hair float around your head like wisps of smoke caught in the moonlight.

It’s when you open your eyes that you realize you can’t breathe. You suddenly become aware that you’re submerged underwater, and the previous tranquility is replaced by a fervent hysteria. Curled up in a fetal position, your bones knock together at the joints, trying for a foothold over the slick crossings of the river floor. Withal, your limbs are constricted by the water reeds, rendering you practically immobile, and your feet sink into the slick, black earthsoup. The surface seems far away from your stricken fingers as you desperately flail them in an attempt to stay afloat.

You can feel your heart pulse sporadically in your teeth, and your spine convulses as you choke on the air that you can’t breathe. In a brief moment of clarity, you retract your arms, beginning to uproot the reeds that confine your body to the riverbed. Determination numbs the burning sensation that coruscates throughout your chest, snuffing out the white-hot sensation that begins to gnaw at your lungs. This newfound electricity swallows you whole, surging through your veins like an incinerator that’s sweltering hot and nuclear-powered. Mud billows up in waves from the floor.

You can taste the acrid tang of death as you bite down on your tongue, and you know it’s coming when your periphery turns white. An abrupt coolness rushes in, igniting a formication along your skin. In mere moments, you realize, you will float like the water reeds, nothing more than flesh and bones ready to decay in the currents. It’s unnerving to realize, it’s unnerving to even think about, and you want to push against the exhaustion that barrels onto your body; to strain for the moonlight that dims above. But your limbs grow heavy, your fingers turn bloated and blue, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning…

A rough hand clamps down on your shoulders and you’re jerked out of the water before the darkness completely takes over your vision.

You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. Your chest heaves violently, sucking in desperate lungfuls of air that you had previously been so cruelly deprived of. The disturbed water sloshes around as you’re pulled onto the surface of a raft, and you collapse to your knees. Spindly fingers anchor themselves against the dried bamboo stakes, unable to let go until you’re steady once again. Your breath releases in sharp heaves, but it’s there, and that’s all that matters.

When the chill finally seeps into your skin, you see everything in pieces: the shadow of a silhouette in the fading moonlight, dark eyes fraught with concern, and frantic hands thrusting a sheet around your trembling body. Panting hard, you find a certain sense of relief when you cut your eyes to the person who stands by your shivering form. The landscape is blurry before you, and a restless energy hums beneath your skin.

“Are you alright?” the man asks you.

You don’t answer him at first. Instead, you swivel your head around as you take in your surroundings. You’re encircled by calm waters, serene despite their previous menace. Ripples lull the boat, and you follow their path to a shore that doesn’t lie too far from where you are now. You can barely make out the bamboo stalks that extend towards the night sky, framed by the gray cliffs that confine the surrounding land within an alcove of shadows.

“Where are we?” you ask him.

“This is Bishui River.”

The name rings with an unknown sense of familiarity, and you repeat it under your breath.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the man crouches down beside you, “but, what happened to you?”

You wish you could answer him, and when you look down, you notice your hands are shaking. From the frustration of being unable to recall anything or your apparent weakness, you don’t know. It’s like there’s a roadblock in your mind, a screen that reaches from ground to sky that disconnects you from the world around you. Faint sounds plug your ears, memories float across your eyes, and you’re unaware of what you have forgotten. Your past is something hidden, but in this moment you cannot fathom what it might be.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You ball your hands into fists, knuckles blanching and fingernails digging deep into your palms as you turn to glower at the waters below. A sharp pain lances through your skin, but you don’t release them. All you can do is tell him your name.

“I see,” he hums, and you look towards him, whose cloak reveals a subtle beard of black hair and callous hands - working hands. There are wicker baskets that lie adjacent to his feet, filled with scavenged fish and herbs, carrots and sunsettias. “I stopped using my real name a long time ago. You can just call me Jiangxue.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t lose focus. Your nature is to piece this puzzle together: a fisherman out in the dead of night, an unknown land that is strangely familiar, and you, a person composed of seafoam who was pulled to the surface with nothing but a name. You admit that that’s what bewilders you most, but you suck in a breath and push the thought away.

“There’s a village near here. I can take you there if you’d like,” Jiangxue speaks when your silence persists. His eyes glance towards your figure before quickly looking away. A cough catches somewhere between his lungs and his throat. “It consists of amiable folk. You should be able to persuade them into getting you some clothing.”

You look down at his words, and your throat drops to your stomach when you find your bare skin on display. A hypodermic heat rushes to your face, and you wrap the thin sheet tighter around your naked body.

“I … uh … sorry,” you manage to sputter out, bowing your chin down to your chest as if the simple action alone could erase all traces of embarrassment. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s no matter,” he affirms, paddling towards the land.

It begins to rain once the raft reaches the shore, and an argentine fluorescence seeps from the sky. The drops plummet from the sky, rapid and ruthless. As you step onto the bank, you find that the mossy ground is damp and sodden, a deep green pigmentation that indicates the fallen rain as a usual occurrence. Jagged stones press uncomfortably into your heels, and you can feel the way the air stills around you.

You don’t understand why these plains seem so disorienting, why the soft susurration of the leaves feel so heavy in your ears. This stupor comes alongside that previous sense of familiarity - an ambient nostalgia for a native land that you yearn to experience once again. There’s an entwining reassurance, distant childhood memories, and the comforts of home. Perhaps one day you will find out why.

When you see the man step off of his raft in an attempt to follow you, you stop him with the shake of your head.

“I’m fine from here on out,” you say before you can even make sense of the words. “I know my way there.”

Skeptical of your proclamation, he raises an eyebrow.

“Dawn will be here soon, you should return to fishing before the world wakes up.”

“You misunderstand,” he says, walking towards you nonetheless. “I do not fish for a living. Neither the process nor the result means much of anything to me.”

“Oh,” you frown. “Is it just a way to pass time, then?”

“Precisely that.” And then he smiles, reaching out his hand and placing it on yours. When he retracts, you find a sunsettia placed into the cocoon of your palm, accompanied by a glowing ornament composed of Varunada Lazurite. There’s a delicate swirl–like design imprinted in the middle of the gem, and your breath catches in your throat when you realize what it is: a Hydro Vision. It must have resurfaced alongside you.

You wish to thank him, but you can not find the voice to do so.

“Safe travels,” Jiangxue says. He turns away, only walking a few steps before he pauses entirely. He opens his mouth, and a look crosses his face then as if he doesn’t know what to say.

“Yes?” you ask of him. “What is it?”

He still doesn’t speak, and you watch as he unclips the cloak from around his waist, slipping it off his arms and rolling it within itself. He hands you the bundle of cloth.

“O-Oh,” you stutter, waving your hands in front of you. “I couldn’t possibly. You have given me far too much.”

“You are cold,” is all he says. “Take it.”

“Really, I don’t-”

“I implore you. Please take it.”

There’s something in his voice then, a plea that is all too unfitting for the composed man before you. Unable to fight against his wishes, you timidly reach forward and remove the article from his grasp.

“There should be no monsters to block your path,” Jiangxue says. “He has made sure of it.”

There is nothing to stop the bewilderment that illustrates your face.

“He?” you question, but the fisherman’s back is turned to you. Befuddled, you do not say anything more, and the quietude encroaches in.

Somewhere in the near distance, a bird squalls — the only sound to penetrate the silence. Jiangxue moves back onto his raft, situating a paddle between the calloused texture of his hands. You don’t wait to watch him leave, instead bowing your head in a display of gratitude before pivoting on your heel and weaving through the clotted bamboo.

When you are certain that you are adequately hidden, the soaked-through sheet that had previously found home on your shoulders falls to the floor. You cinch the cloak that Jiangxue gifted you around your body, and the linen cocoons your body heat comfortably. Pocketing your Vision and the sunsettia, you pluck the sheet from off the ground, and begin to walk forward once more.

It’s not a long trek, that much you can recall, but when you reach the edge of the village, you find that the world has flung itself over and a new sun breaks the horizon. It’s a nectarine-sweet sky, mingling above the mountain that cradles the abundant crop lands within its embrace. You cross the bridge over the terraced fields of crops and wildflowers, inching closer to the livening village. It remains peaceful and quiet all the same, even as its occupants begin to stir.

This isn’t a place that receives many guests, that much you can affirm, despite the boundless beauty the land withholds. The rising sun embraces your skin, silky and warm, and even the rough texture of the stairs beneath your feet seems to hold a fount of comfort within themselves. You can hear the hummingbirds philandering with the flowers, their birdsong coming in lulls and bursts. The aromatic hints of Jueyun Chili and Violetgrass invade upon the atmosphere, inspiring a warmth to pool within your stomach.

It’s when you near the top of the stone path that you can make sense of a hunched figure beneath the strung lanterns, still lit despite the day’s arrival. She paces from side to side, graceful in her steps regardless of the aged lines that sculpt her face, on display due to her gray hair tucked in a low bun. As if sensing your presence, she stops, the green of her dress swiveling with her movements as she pivots on her heel to face you.

“My dear,” she calls, as if she has known you all this time. “Welcome to Qingce Village. Why don’t you take a walk with me?”

The elderly lady nods her head towards the courtyard, and there you can see a conglomeration of buildings that frame the square, constructed of wood and bamboo stalks. Fruit stands are tucked into corners, and a little ways down, a water mill sits adjacent to a bridge, converging with the path that leads further up the mountain. From nearby, the sound of a waterfall marginally emerges above the noises of early morning, and a rush of wistfulness overwhelms your entire being.

“Have you been aware that I would come?” you ask as you step beside her. She leads you towards the bridge.

A small smile sets apart her lips. “You must know we have quite the accumulation of spies here.”

A look of confoundment overtakes your features, and before you can request her to explain any further, a muffled chorus of giggles is heard from behind you. When you turn around, three pairs of eyes stare curiously at your form, and petite hands latch onto the edges of the cart that the children hide behind.

“I was not aware that I’d been under surveillance.”

“Outsiders are rather rare here,” the elderly woman muses, turning her head to where you gaze. “Of course, they still have a lot to learn.”

A sense of amusement flutters within your chest.

“Might I inquire as to why you have come?” she asks you.

The question momentarily startles you, although you reason that it is not unexpected. Attempting to grasp at your thoughts, you press your teeth down onto your lip, and all answers that are brought to mind prove insufficient to her question.

She must notice your inner turmoil, because she provides a reassuring expression before speaking: “It is fine if you do not wish to indulge me. We all have things we wish to keep to ourselves.”

“It’s not that. It’s just … how do I put this?” you reply, taking a grounding breath before voicing further. “There are many memories before this morning that have escaped me, including the answer to your inquiry. Although, I do suppose I hoped that I might be able to acquire some assistance here.”

She seems to contemplate your words, and stops walking just before your feet make contact with the bridge. A middle-aged woman appears in your periphery then, raising her hand in greeting to the lady beside you, the other arm slung over a wicker basket that rests on her hip. She must be preparing for a day's worth of field work, you presume.

“I see. Let us go somewhere more private. We will converse there,” she says. “And perhaps we might find you some more suitable clothes.”

She leads you to a building that rests on a wedge below the peak of the mountain. It’s certainly the largest structure of the village, composed of wooden posts and joists to encircle the open space. A shallow pond borders the front entrance, lotus heads and lily pads peaking above its glassy surface. The inside is completely exposed to the external environment, and from here, you can make out the entirety of the village. Nonetheless, being under a roof grants you a gratifying sense of privacy.

With a fragile hand on the small of your back, the lady leads you to a painted screen wall that rests off–center of the building, framed by wooden beams. It’s a picture of the mountain, you promptly recognize, with streaks of orange and blue that appear to glow in the morning light. She gently encourages you behind it, and you don’t realize that there is a set of garments in her other hand before she’s pushing them into your own.

“There is no one around to see,” she says, as if sensing your hesitation, and leaves you to your own.

Once the woman rounds the corner, you make haste in removing the cloak, slipping on the pants that tighten at your waist. The silk laced fabric flares out to brush at your ankles, and the cerulean trimmed edges barely graze upon the ground. The main portion is a dark umber, much like the short sleeved shirt given to you, with stitched decals of ochre and blue. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to bind the fastenings down your chest.

There is no mirror nearby, but you are gently pleased by the choice in fabrics. You run your fingers over the material, feeling the ridges, the needlework, and the cotton–like texture. You know you’re in no position to experience such a luxury at the given moment, but you also have no entitlement to brush off such a thing. Your body hums with gratitude, and you step out from behind the wall.

The elderly lady seems to be equally as pleased, as she sends you a tight–lipped smile. From where her hands are clasped behind your back, she motions towards the chairs that circle the center of the building, fringing on the carmine painted engraving of a flower–like design. You take a seat.

“Might I ask your name?” You are the first to speak.

“You may call me Granny Ruoxin,” she muses. “I do apologize if it isn’t too lively around here, but life is pleasant here, and I hope you find a sense of enjoyment within the village.”

You learn forward, eager. “You mean it? I can stay?”

She nods, and it’s like the Universe has bursted into light. “There is plenty of room. You may stay until you are certain of where your journey will take you.”

A glint from the sun sparks your gaze, and you watch as Granny Ruoxin moves to sit beside you. Her movements are leisurely, hands crossed–hatched with scars reaching down to clasp yours in her own, and you dare to wonder of all the ways in which your life is about to unfold.

hello! i hope you enjoyed this. it’s my first time posting something genshin related on tumblr, so feedback is greatly appreciated. <3

additionally, i am considering making a tag list for this story, so if you are interested please message me!!

also! you can read it here on a03!