The Cats Are Out Of The... Boxes!

The cats are out of the... boxes!

We are happy to announce that after an intense amount of planning, brainstorming, and unabashed excitement we are finally ready to share our project: A REED900 ZINE!

Before our plans can actually come to life we would like to ask you, Reed900 fans, for your help.

First, it would be lovely if you would take a moment to fill out the survey, which will help us determine how many copies to plan for and how many of you would want to join the project as a Creator.

INTEREST SURVEY FOUND HERE!

Please note that it is not an official Sign-Up form and you don't commit to anything by filling it out. Actual Creator Sign-Ups will be announced soon!

Finally, while we're getting everything organized we'd like your help spreading the word about this zine! Reblog, retweet, and get the word out to your friends and your favorite creators - with your help we will make this Zine a reality!

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to drop us a message, our askbox is always open on all our listed platforms!

This is going to sound silly but, back when you wrote "Charon" a few years ago I was in a really bad place. For whatever reason you fic kept me going. Just waiting for the next chapter, edge of my seat story and all. You helped me.

Thank you.

Thank you anon!!! This really means so much to me!
 
I wrote Charon as a catharsis of sorts for some life stuff I’d been dealing with, which makes it a story that’s very dear to me, even 3-ish years later. It genuinely means a lot to me that it could help you through something. Like, genuinely

We've never spoken but god I love your art and I love you. You're amazing! :>

Omg Thank you so much!!! 🥰

You’re also amazing 💖💖💖

CHAPTER 5 OF FATA MORGANA IS LIVE 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I LOVE THIS STORY WITH ALL MY HEART Y’ALL!! BLESS @16ruedelaverrerie FOR THEIR AMAZING WRITING!! I’m gonna go find a way to physically absorb this fic into my body

In the meantime, here’s an edited version of my art (The full image is very R18 and can’t be posted here)

“You’re in danger, Mister Reed,” Sitri narrowed his beautiful, forgiving gaze, and removed a spot of lint from his pressed, lilac shirt. His voice was music—orchestral, yet bored. “May I call you Gavin? I’m going to call you Gavin.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30475689/chapters/76823456

Old draws of the boys