This is Our Story to Write

Something wells up in Tumblr's throat as they realise that they can't just go up and talk to them. AO3 would never humour them with a conversation, nothing more than a passing word- maybe not even. They're far too refined for that. Tumblr looks down at their wrists, adorned with loom bands, kandi bracelets, leather cuffs and scars.

They're far too refined for that.

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AO3 doubles over, head hitting the counter softly as the pain flares up again. They sink to the floor against their best efforts, as though gravity has increased on them specifically, clutching themselves in pain. She's sure she makes some sort of groan as her vision blackens, and she's fairly certain half the books on the counter clatter down with her.

Their heart... fuck...