[Content Warning: (inaccurately depicted) obsessive mental illness]

“C’mon, Twilight. It’s time for supper!”

Twilight Velvet peeked into Twilight’s study. The young mare was hunched over her notebook, her pen dancing across the page in long, curled strokes. Velvet walked over to get a closer look. “What are you working on?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m just writing,” Twilight replied.

“All right. Well, when you’re finished, come on down, okay? Supper’s just about ready.”

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I've gone a little crazy in the last month, and currently have about 25K of finished, unedited fanfic on deck. Plus other projects as well. I think I might be mentally ill? Actually, I know I'm mentally ill.

Me IRL

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