#AGE-2 Magnum

[a-story-is-true]

memory is a monster

[on youtube]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Siffrin plays Disco Elysium AU: Featuring backseat gamer Loop.

[aerithisms]

new reading project is the way of kings. just read the prologue and i forgot how much sanderson loves to explain the magic to you like a video game mechanic

[fabiansociety]

one of the great video game tragedies, because you can see it coming, EVERYONE can see it coming, and the game is actively pushing you to not help him… and then it doesn’t matter whether you helped him or not, because Anders is his own person and you’re not the main character of his story.

also it’s nice to see a character that is just flat out an accelerationist and a game that doesn’t shy away from how maaaaaybe he’s right but here and now he has absolutely gotten a bunch of people killed and has successfully prodded a theocracy into launching an openly genocidal war of reprisal

which

uh

was timely then and remains timely now

the Friendly Concern quest in act 2 if you’re romancing Anders is essentially like this

[easy-there-leftovers]

Magnum Opus Ch. 2

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2.6k words

Notes: I made up a bunch of chemicals and their chemical properties up so shhhh!! Also, I'm not American, I have no contextual understanding of the distance of one place to another. The US is large enough.

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

“Anything new?” Rossi asked as he and Prentiss returned from the crime scene, making his way into the space the MPDC made for the BAU. Surveying the area as he does before stopping abruptly.

“Forensics are running tests on her stuff. She brought everything in. Apparently she didn’t know anything about the murders before we interrogated her.” Morgan shifts his weight from leaning against a desk to approaching  JJ who motions for his help across and out of the room.

“And she’s here with us in the room, why?”

 Hotch feels the scrutiny of his friend’s eyes, so he turns his sight away from where you and Reid stood. 

“Reid doesn’t think she fits the profile and wants her insight on the case. I trust his judgment, so I allowed it.”

“You said that?” Emily asks with furrowed brows. 

“Well, non-verbatim, I said that her knowledge on–”

“And you allowed our prime suspect to help with a case?” The unit chief sighs when Dave interrupts Reid but stays firm.

“I don’t enjoy the idea of it either, but she’s the only lead we have.” 

Rossi shrugs, but keeps a watchful eye on the young pair. Only turning away when Emily starts to debrief the earlier crime scene.

She recounts that they had found Jonathan Edwards’ body, aged 28, seated on the previous apartment owner’s couch. One hand across his chest, and the other placed on his lap. A pose that they assume was the closest their unsub could get to mirroring the man in the painting. 

Same M.O. Cleaned wounds, no IDs, sharply dressed. 

The dark haired woman adds the pictures of the crime scene to the growing collage on the board.

 Seeing all of this was like a backstage view, which excited you! But knowing that your work might have inspired someone to kill? Not so much. 

“When you look at the victimolgy, there are no obvious links. Their occupation, race, and gender are all different. Our unsub here seems mission oriented, only targeting people that bear a striking resemblance to Dr. L/n’s subjects and murdering them in their own homes…”

 You sigh as Spencer continues, eyes searching though the unsettling images.

“They’re someone that the victims might’ve been interested in. Someone that could contact them or schedule to meet in a formal setting. The victims weren’t reported missing until they didn’t show up for work, suggesting that they had met in private on their off hours. They’re also highly educated, likely with a background in chemical engineering or a related field with permission to operate in a lab. Or at least a private space like one. This level of intelligence is evident in the precision the bodies were handled with and the synthesized 5-durastelene in the paint.”

“So we’re looking for someone who is charismatic, well connected, and had access to a lab at some point.” Emily simplifies. 

“Their area of activity is concentrated in the east.” You mention, looking at the map and noticing the pattern of the bodies’ location as it crosses three states. “That’s probably their comfort zone. They either live there or are stationed there for their job.”

You assess the distance. “Assuming the place those three were killed and the place they were found are different, he must be comfortable traveling with a body.” 

He shifts his focus from the board to you, but you keep your vision stationary. “Do you know anyone like that? Someone from there that you’d be on unfriendly terms with? A colleague, a mentor?” 

Well that caught your attention.

“...You think they’re trying to incriminate me?” You feel the space between your brows twitch when you ask. Still staring at the map.

He frowns a little at that and responds. “Do you think they’re not?”

“Well–” You start, but then feel nervous feeling all the attention on you. You’re a little overwhelmed, but press on anyway. “I’m not saying that, it just—seems like a few ‘why’s’ are missing.” 

Why bother adding a painting? Why bother even making them? Why bother mixing durastelene, a compound that would definitely alter the paint’s integrity given its properties, to replicate something the public wouldn’t even know you made? All questions you asked with a more steady tone.

“Let’s not get carried away, kid. We’re trying to see the big picture first.” The senior in the room says.

Picking at the skin of your lips, you acquiesce and turn to finally look at Spencer. 

Spencer feels his eyes flick to your fingers first then to your eyes. “I think they’re trying to send you a message.” 

He looks back to the pictures of your paintings on the scene. Trying to see if he’s missed something.

 “They might believe that by recreating your work, they’re challenging you– establishing a level of superiority. You said that no one should have access to your paintings, so this must have been someone that once knew you intimately and is now mocking you to make a point. It’s not just about incrimination—they’re trying to reach out to you.”

You feel the space between your brows twitch again.

You can think of a few people who might dislike you; competition is expected in the academic world. But the obvious signs of fixation on you suggests two possibilities: you're either being seen as a rival or as an idol.

It’s unlikely that anyone sees an unemployed PhD student with burn-out syndrome as a worthy rival. 

And something tells you that if they really wanted to place the blame on you, they wouldn’t go this far, in this way. 

They might as well have left a note with your name on it and that would’ve been more believable.

Then again, you could just be wrong 

You’re in a room full of professionals. You’re speculating based off of a theory that might not be applicable to your situation due to a variety of factors. There’s a reason this is their job and not yours. 

You take this thought in stride with a deep intake of breath and now slackened shoulders before responding with a careful nod.

“If that’s the case, then I think it’ll be a little hard to find someone that meets the criteria. I didn’t really have friends when I graduated from MIT, and even if I did, they wouldn’t know about my art—not because I kept it hidden–! It’s only because I started painting when I left.”

The team looked a bit sad at the revelation of your almost non-existent social circle, but quickly acted like what you said was normal.

“Let’s focus on anyone that you had worked closely with then.” You nod at that and start discussing possibilities.

—-------------

Spencer is thankful for Hotch’s suggestion as it diverts the earlier attention away from him. He wouldn’t have minded it at any other time if he wasn’t too preoccupied with thoughts of you.

Thoughts of you with regards to the case, he finds himself justifying to no one in particular.

Everyone has tells. A gesture, a change in posture, nonverbal cues that give someone away. They’re hard to hide because it's in human nature to have them. Trying to keep them hidden is essentially like holding your breath. Suspending the inevitable will only make the tells much more noticeable.

And you don’t seem to be doing that. 

On the contrary, it’s the presence of your micro reactions that are throwing him off. He has noticed five pauses, four instances of rapid eye movement, three tonal deviations, two quirks in your glabella, and now your previously leveled shoulders have dropped. 

Maybe it’s because he’s spent a lot of time with people who try to hide them, but seeing an overwhelming amount of tells manifest in you has him scrambling to figure out what each one means.

Within the two hours and 33 minutes that have passed since he was allowed into your home, the only thing he’s found out about you through your interactions is that you’re disorganized, you’re insecure about your intelligence, and that you don’t like being called doctor. 

All superficial quirks. Two hours is too long a time for him to have only figured three things out. 

He’s missing something. Or maybe he’s not looking at it from the right angle.

Before he can think more on the matter, his mind refocuses on the team. 

Penelope had called them to say that she had gone through lists of attendees from all the conferences you’ve spoken at, both private and open-house events, at Aaron Hotchner’s request. 

“I was able to pick out a few names that are poking around here and there, but I’m going to need a little more than that, my dear comrades! Sifting through names of geeks isn't really my favorite pastime.”

“Pen, narrow down the list to names from MIT. We’re looking for a student from the Chemistry programs or a lecturer that might have access to a lab.” Emily supplied, leaning onto the table where the blonde was on screen. 

“Doing just that and—oh! Would you look at that! Looks like the tools aren’t as diligent as they claim to be.” The mocking tone in her voice causes a small smile to creep on your face.

“Caltech?” The bubbly woman snorts at that.

“Anyone in their right mind knows it’s the superior choice! Tech geeks hate MIT.”

“Don’t let our tools hear you then, we have a history of going nuclear.” That certainly earned you a giggle from the woman on the other end. 

“There’s a sense of humor I can get behind! We–”

“Garica, focus.” Hotch said with urgency.

“Yes–I will! I am! So focused in fact that I’ve got a few names, but only one is super consistent—Lecturer Dr. Annaliese Andrews! Looking up this nerd as we speak and—!” 

You all heard the hitch in her breath.

“Oh no….”

“Garcia, what did you find?”

The BAU and you were silent for a moment before Penelope composed herself. “Dr. Andrews owned a lab near the Charles’ river.” 

She shows its location on screen and a picture of your mentor, Dr. Andrews with a notebook in hand, posed in front of it. The picture was from her social media update, and it couldn’t have been taken more than a year or two ago.

“She built it herself in the 80’s and maybe she wasn’t keeping up with safety protocols but eventually a fire broke out, and she–” Then you see a news headline of the same lab on fire.

“How long ago was this?” Hotch demanded. This got the attention of everyone in the room. 

“Uh,” Penelope sat in her office, frantically typing until an article showed up. “This happened around nine months ago, but it says here that her next of kin decided to keep the property.”

They’ve found a stressor.

“That’s impossible.” You countered. “Dr. Andrews had no family. No husband, no kids.”

“Who is the property under now?” Rossi pressed. 

Muttering under her breath, she continues to search. 

“Says here a month later, a workshop was built right where the lab was– Aha! It’s under 35 year old Liam Turner, freelance photographer. He’s got a studio on Bay State Road.” 

Penelope pulls up an image of an almost unremarkable looking man on screen along with a scan of his BA in Visual Studies from Harvard.

“What the hell…” You don’t recognize this guy at all. 

“Do you know him?” Hotch asks and you say no with a shake of your head and upturned brows.

“Right now, I’m not seeing a connection between these two either—anything you guys can give me?”

You want to interject. Something about him seems familiar, but you don’t recognize him from anywhere. 

You want to ask— no–it wouldn’t be your right. They can figure this out themselves and you're still a suspect! Besides, you’re not even sure if– 

“Do you want to say something, Y/n?”

Your head shoots to the voice and you see Spencer staring back at you. Mouth slightly open which lets you know the question probably came from.

 Maybe it’s because he used your given name, maybe it’s the heavy feeling in your stomach. But regardless, his question certainly makes space for you to voice your thoughts as the room awaits your reply.

You feel your shoulders tense as you speak. “Was his name in the list of attendees?”

Garcia checks quickly but she shakes her head to say no. You thought so.

You ask a different question. “Then uh, can you pull up surveillance footage at any of the conferences?”

She does just that and presents a split-screen video from a month before you graduated. One camera was stationed at the back of the room, and the other overhead from where you stood. She speeds it up as the team watches not much movement until Spencer points something out with a start.

 He gestures to the upper right corner where a lone camera man stands on the side, and asks their tech analyst to zoom in.

There lied the face of the man from earlier search with a camera in hand. The thing that makes him special though, Spencer says, is that based on the angle he was holding the lens at, he was focusing only on you and not on your projection.

“He was in the room, but not in the list.” He furrowed his brows.

You shook your head. “He probably wasn’t an official attendee, someone that a lecturer could’ve requested the assistance of last minute— anyways, can we see where the pictures he took were used? Like articles, tabloids?”

“Absolutely, just give me a second…” You all watch a bunch of sites pop up as Garcia combs through anything that may be related. 

In no time however, she comes across a website. 

There on the screen, for all of the team to see, was a blog, or maybe a portfolio, that had snippets from interviews, headlines, and pictures that featured you. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it looks like any image of you that would show up if you were googled were credited under him. 

Conferences. Campus surveys. Even candid conversation with school representatives.

Penelope digs deeper until she finds the first upload. A picture of a sunset taken somewhere on a bridge with a notebook and pen on its ledge. Though it might not have been enough for most people to recognize, Spencer notices it immediately. 

“Garcia, can you pull up the picture of Dr. Andrews with her lab?”

She does just that and he only needs one look before he turns to address his colleagues. “The notebook is the same! His initials, ‘L.T.’ are on her notebook cover, and this picture!”

And as much as you wished you could sympathize with Spencer’s excitement, you were feeling very overwhelmed at the moment. 

Case and point; first you find out your mentor is dead, then you find out you have a stalker that possibly hates your guts. Find out that said stalker may or may not be related to said mentor, who may or may not hate you, and now you have to digest the possibility of him being a murderer as some sort of vengeance arc?

You shake the thought away.

The tie between him and the victims is still something you don’t get. Clean wounds,  no IDs, sharply dressed.

 So you ask.

“Any chance the victims visited Turner’s studio before they disappeared?”

Analog photo developers have no problem working with a lot of chemicals, and IDs are commonly taken for legal confirmation, you share with the team. The only reason they’d be dressed like that was if–

“They—-all booked an appointment with him.”

You almost regret asking.

--------

taglist: @littlewolfieposts, @hiireadstuff, @bibissparkles, @honestlyatotalloser, @r-3dlips, @suzysface , @pinkpantheris , @resistanythingbuttemptation , @pastafairyy , @lynnar-moon , @andromeda-kay , @darling006 , @mambolaxa , @potatovoyager , @whenmypartysover , @oi-oikawa-tooru , @kniselle , @astreaaries , @fullsuns-stuff

[shoutydwarf]

and truly i am sorry i have very little good things to say about this game. like the rest of us here, i waited 10 years for it. i wanted it to be good. i scoffed at the bad reviews, i went into it with all my biases in favor of it. i had complete faith in bioware EVEN as someone that doesn't like inquisition and never once cared about the solas/elf plots. i cannot stress enough that i was a person completely set up to be pre-disappointed in the game, yet i was not.

i've logged 90 hours. i've completed it 1 1/2 times, i've seen all the endings and then i let all of that marinate for a week longer. the retrospection hit and it hit really fucking hard. i'm really tired of criticism of this game being shut down with "you're just a hater/tourist/grifter" especially when that's being directed at ME because yall.

i have been here, in the da community, since i was 13 years old. i am 26 now. my art would not exist without dragon age. my writing would not exist without dragon age. through this entire 10 year long drought i have contributed in NO small part to keeping this community alive. i've written 200 page google docs on dwarf culture. i completely rewrote characters like oghren and cullen. my MUSE, my magnum opus, my favorite of all favorites, is a dragon age oc (love u aeducan). my best friend and i get together at least once a month to sit in her garage for 3 days straight talking and planning out our dragon age ocs/stories/roleplays.

i have a right to be disappointed. i have a right to speak about that disappointment. i have a right to criticize the game. and odds are, the people criticizing it are just like me to some degree. if you're happy with the game GOOD FOR YOU. i wish i WAS YOU.

anyway tldr as mad as i sound in these critical posts, i'm actually just sad. and here lies the warning that this blog will continue being very critical of the game.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for threatening to become a girl's step dad to troll her into blocking me and stop dragging me in a group chat ? Jenny (23F) blew up because I (24NB) said she'd be a shitty social worker bc of her specific autism symptoms + class bg. My gf (45F) said it was warranted because of how  overwhelmed i got by the wall of text with triggering details of my abuse. I never told my GF that the fight started because Jenny called me a gold digger. I also never mentioned that I ended it an hour later by posting pics of Jenny's mom in the chat, ignoring her ranting and discussing the vacancy left by her dead dad*, and how i could fill said vacancy. 😬😬😬 Might of gone too far with this one.

Backstory: I lived with Jenny when I was houseless indefinitely. She only let me stay for two weeks because it would be too "distracting" to her studies. Jenny was incredibly rich, didn't work, and her parents paid her rent for a 2 bedroom. She admitted she got rejected from every grad school she applied to except for the one her mom was in charge of. Her mom bought her a condo in the city the school was in. She kept asking me how she should decorate it, completely ignorant to how uncomfortable this made me and my other friends. Jenny was oblivious constantly to how she made others feel. She was actually the most incompetent person I've ever met in terms of comforting other, always tone deaf and completely absorbed with her own, single traumatic event. She made constant jokes about the abuser I was fleeing and even compared this stalked to a /serial killer/ documentary she watched, but never EVER showed any signs of internalizing how I almost lost my life to another person, how that might affect me or even just bum me out. Seriously, I've never met someone else who was so incapable of even being sensitive to issues that were /EXTREMELY SERIOUS/. Forget comforting, the stuff she routinely said to me and my other friends to try to cheer us up was beyond degrading. It was wearing on me a lot.

Jenny herself was neurodivergent. She often said her autism prevented her from understanding the feelings others had, reading their expressions, and tolerating crying or loud noise-- she forbid her musician roommate from doing both. None of those mean shes a worthless person, but all of those things would make someone a horrible therapist or social worker. Oh my God, literally every time I talked about my recent trauma, she would talk about herself and then blame her autism when I told her it just wasn't helping.

The final piece of this was I had a nervous breakdown and screamed at her over discord that she was a shit friend and needed to give up on social work, for like an hour. NOT MY PROUDEST, but I ALMOST DIED. I was living with her because SOMEONE WAS STALKING ME. and I would have liked to not have my abuse JOKED about. HOW DID JENNY RESPOND!? She began dragging me, through the mud, in the group chat, for, dating, an, older, woman, who, paid, for, my, air bnb, because, !!!she!!! wouldn't let me live with her for more than a week. I was HOMELESS. It became all about "OP you are such a b*tch, you are with a woman twice your age and she pays for everything now but you are still a miserable and angry person. You are so blah blah blah you are an ableist, you said I can't become a social worker bc of autism blah blah blah you have major major issues, Go back your rich granny and leech off of her you useless, fucked up little gold digger."

U_U Then, she started graphically describing how I deserved my abuse, so I shrimply began to troll. And yes, I pulled out my magnum oppus like fucking playing blue eyes white dragon, oh yeah I slipped her a pristine Jenny's mom facebook photo and said "Hey you never said your mom was so cute. Maybe, I could leech off her next and become your new dad." Yes, her dad died.* She blocked me immediately. Its OK. It was knives out for Jenny as soon as my GF gifted me a pair of $700 Isabel Marant shoes** , the most EXPENSIVE thing ive ever owned in my whole life, and Jenny saw me excited and called her mom to buy her a pair. It's, absolutely OK, if I am the asshole. I wear my crown of thorns, judas that I am, but I really, really think Jenny was being cruel. *he died 18 years ago ** the shoes are no more because i fell into my gf's rich friend's koi pond

[superectojazzmage]

I'd also add that part of the thing is, gender and sexual equality of this sort is well established in Dragon Age. From the very first game, it was well established that it was the norm in this setting and that, outside of a few more backwards places like rural parts of Ferelden, the vast majority of people don't care about gender or sexuality, and this was shown even more in subsequent entries.

Nobody comments on any of the same-sex romances as being unusual or different from hetero ones. Aside from some scattered assholes in the first game, hardly anybody cares about women being soldiers alongside men or other such things and one of the few instances of it coming up at all is used to show the weird was the Qunari view the world. Pretty much the one time homophobia comes up to my memory is with Dorian's backstory, and even there it's framed less as Dorian's dad being homophobic and more as him being obsessed with having a "legacy"; nobody thinks Dorian being gay is weird or anything. Krem being trans is likewise totally accepted without hesitation by the characters, who at most see it as a curiosity.

So the characters not caring about someone being non-binary and respecting pronouns isn't a problem. It's fine. Hell, one of the books had a non-binary protagonist - Hollix - who was totally awesome and loved by the fandom, with a lot of people praising how well-handled their gender identity was. It's clear that this is something totally accepted within the context of Dragon Age's setting and that's perfectly fine, good even, because it's not like it's supposed to be some kind of "realistic" depiction of medieval history or anything; it's it's own world with it's own culture and history, and more to the point, the writers of the older games were clearly just unconcerned with discussing issues like that in depth so while constructing the setting (since it's pretty much irrelevant to anything), they decided to have gender/sexual equality already in place and moved on.

All that to say, previous games in this series handled the exact same kind of topics but did so with infinitely more grace and intelligence. They didn't do stuff like this, having the characters lecture you for two minutes and use real world modern day terms to do it (while non-binary people have always existed, that term has not; imagine if in the middle of Lord of the Rings, the characters started talking about televisions and capitalism and so on, and you get what I mean). They just presented things like same-sex relationships, nonstandard gender identities, and so on as what they are; a normal part of the world and human experience. There wasn't this sense of insecurity or self-righteousness or whatever. The characters weren't written like HR was standing over the writers' heads with a gun, watching for the slightest offensive comment.

It's not just that this scene is badly written, poorly directed, immersion breaking, continuity contradicting, and playing things so safe it somehow loops back around to being offensive and playing into nasty stereotypes of LGBT+ people. It's that Dragon Age already tackled these subjects and handled them deftly, even in weaker entries like Inquisition. Making Veilguard's blatant smug superiority complex about it as on display here all the more pathetic.

This is actually painful to watch. This is why DEI in gaming always fails. They're so hyper focused on "the message" that nothing else matters.

[awsugar]

And I forgot about the DRUMS!!! I think this is an album they may have been working on for years. I think they are going for a magnum opus

yea so i read this went you sent it at 6am cause ive been out of work sick for a few days now and my sleep is allll messed up. and i tinhatted EXTREMELY close to the sun on this one. but i kind of think im cooking. so let me explain.

also ill just say i think because we know somethings coming but we dont know what BUT we know there are threads throughout somehow connecting things from years prior like. all tinhatting is plausible until proven otherwise. if we want to draw a connection between two things we CAN. and i think thats why im so on board with mcr5 now when i havent been since 2019. bc ive done this before. i was in the trenches for the danger days rollout/promo and the transmissions on the website and everything and THAT was one of the most exciting times of my life and THIS reminds me of that. im glad people never gave up on mcr5 but they never gave me ENOUGH before now to really run with. and now they have and its a free for all. THIS is what being an mcr fan is about. tbh. this is what this fandom has been missing for AGES. when they dont give us teasers and lore and crpytic messages we devolve into like theorizing and arguing with each other about who they are as people. but this is the basis of mcr community to me....getting together with your pals inside your phone and inside your laptop (who now have grown ito irl friends for so many of us) and dissecting every shred of info they give us. thank god for my chemical romance.

ANYWAY sorry that. went down a path i didnt intend when i started. so yes um so what you said about them going for a magnum opus. let me tell you a little story. when i was in my first year of being a my chem fan, i was 13, i became QUICKLY obsessed, first with the black parade and then after i spent i think 2 months straight listening to nothing but the black parade on repeat all day every day (literally) i ventured into their other stuff and got like really sucked in to everything else, reading articles and interviews and watching every video of them youtube had to offer and talking about them 24/7 on the forums instead of doing homework, i would sneak the family laptop into my room at night so i could keep reading about them and talking about them instead of having to go to sleep it was THE most exhilarating and exciting time of my life. anyway. i remember (16 years later) reading a specific review of the black parade that said something like "my chemical romance will never top this album and they know it" and i STILL REMEMBER sitting on the couch and crying over it. because i had never listened to music that had made such an impact on me as the black parade IN MY LIFE. nothing had ever made me feel that way and that strongly as listening to that album. you know how we all always say we wish we could listen to my chem for the first time again just to have that feeling again. that was me. i had never experienced an album of their when it came out and i felt like the author of the article was telling me that i would basically never acheive that high again. it was devastating. i promise this is relevant. bc regardless of your PERSONAL FAVORITE my chem album, it is generally agreed upon that the black parade is their magnum opus. it just is. both in scale and musically and its impact on pop culture and its the best known to a general audience.

so you say they're going for a magnum opus. when the black parade is DEAD. they killed it. (in the new lore they were sent to the MOAT which i assume is some kind of exile and stripping of their status as the national band)

and so i started thinking about "in the face of extermination say FUCK YOU" and i think this applies here two-fold actually. MAYBE 3-fold. on one hand, in-universe. extermination being the concrete age, the dictator holding the people down and exterminating their livelihood. but also the extermination of the black parade! and then - irl - we have the extermination of mcr's chances of doing something huge again like this. music publications resigning them as soon as the album came out to never achieving something as epic and grand as that again.

and the FUCK YOU being, the opposition of the dictator from the people, the black parade being reinstated but? maybe they have plans to overthrow the dictator? IRL mcr saying fuck you, we can actually use the concept that you said was the best we would ever do, completely turn it on its head, and make something even more grandiose and epic and MAGNUM OPUS.

and also hail just reminded me obv of the UNKILLABLES drumhead in sydney. which both relates to franks personal experience there but also like. with this concept of in the face of extermination say fuck you. along with his end of tour post being a cockroach, notoriously unkillable! notoriously a target for extermination!!!!

god theres so many layers to this but i needed to get it off my chest do you still like me

[itsokguysimquirky]

❥ coffee delivery 📓☕✒️

❥ lip gallagher x reader, no use of y/n, college!au, pre-relationship / potential friends-to-lover, cute little thing i wrote as a writing warm-up because I haven't in ages :p wrote it at 3am. proof read it 2 days later at 1am. so apologies if it's nonsense

❥ w/c -> 988

Consistency and Lip Gallagher were basically sworn enemies. Or at least, they weren’t very familiar with each other. That was until he managed to get roped up into your study sessions. The two of you got paired together for a group project near the beginning of the semester, and considering the near perfect grade you achieved with surprisingly little effort compared to most group projects, Lip hadn’t spent much time debating when you asked if he wanted to be your ‘study buddy’. Plus, he had to admit your time management skills greatly outshined his, hence the project running so smoothly. Sure, he had the natural intellect, but staying on top of things that weren’t survival-related was not Gallagher-forte.

But you kept him in line. He had never seen someone spend so much time organising their google calendar of all things. It was your ‘magnum opus’, you told him when he first questioned the colour-coordinated schedule, and he was starting to get why. Without fail you met three times a week, three hours at a time. If Lip had to cancel or cut a session early, another was scheduled to replace it before the hour’s end. Part of him hated it, little miss life together’s hounding on availability, but he couldn’t deny his more recent grades were too good to complain. And he also couldn’t deny your company was much nicer than most on campus, both in the talking sense and the visual department. Sure, your mind was great, but he didn’t mind the face stuck in front of it either.

“Coffee delivery!” Your cheery voice mock-whispered, sliding into your seat across from Lip and placing the cardboard tray of to-go cups inbetween you. The library’s fourth floor was practically empty, or at least the corner you two had tucked yourselves away in was. Seven pm on a sunday wasn’t usually prime study-time, but with Lip’s work-study, your own obligations, and class, it was a surprisingly good fit for you guys. Plus, the quietness made it much easier to focus.

“Thanks,” Lip didn’t look up from his book, one hand scribbling out nonsense into a notebook and the other grabbing a coffee. It was only after he took a sip did he look up, meeting your eyes with a look of offence. “The hell’s this? I told you, black, two sugars, none-”

“Of that cream shit, I know.” You finished, smiling wide as you recalled his very precise order. Your smile turning a little mean, you swapped your cups, bestowing Lip his beloved cream-free coffee, “Wanted you to learn to look up when you grab a hot beverage through a consequence that didn’t involve burning your hand or spilling coffee all over my notes.” With a wink, you happily took a sip of your flat white.

Lip bit his tongue, fighting back a smile at how proud you looked at your little coffee-swap-prank. It was admittedly cute as fuck, but he couldn’t exactly give you the satisfaction of acknowledging that. Instead, he hid his smile behind his coffee, relishing in the taste of its bitterness. This was how coffee was meant to be, none of that milky crap.

“So, what’s on your agenda today, coffee snatcher?” Lip asked, dropping his pen to give you the undivided attention you seemed to be asking for. He could see through your little tricks, swapping coffees was basically the college girl equivalent of little boys pulling pigtails.

You set your coffee aside, pulling off your fingerless gloves and getting your laptop out of your bag. “Advanced thermo. Shit’s kicking my ass, so I’m hoping three solid hours of that will make it… I want to say ‘make it my bitch’, but I’ll take understandable at this rate.” You laugh, flipping open your laptop and powering it on before disappearing back into your overfilled bag to hunt down the rest of your study material. “You?”

“Physics paper. Put it off for too long, now I have a Monday nine am deadline and only an opening paragraph.” Lip answered, nursing his coffee like it was a warm glass of whiskey. He watched as you dug around in your bag for what was, by his guess, probably just a pen he could’ve offered. But you were specific, you had a study pen, a notes pen, a maths pen, probably a pen exclusively for signing the declaration of independence if you searched in your bag long enough, and you were particular enough to not settle for substitutes until you knew for a fact you had no other option.

Finally emerging with a triumphant smile, your study pen grasped in your hand, you return Lip’s gaze. Offering a sympathetic wince, you slide the pack of pretzels you picked up at the coffee shop towards him, “Brain food. You’re gonna need it with a deadline like that.”

A shockingly genuine smile formed on Lip’s face, willing to admit that the gesture, while small, was sweet. He hid the smile behind his coffee of course, waiting til it schooled down to passively appreciative before he dared lowered his hand to reveal the quirked lips behind the lid. “Uh, thanks. That’s- um, that’s nice.” He cleared his throat, hating how he stumbled over his own words, “I, uh, can still walk you back to your dorm at ten, I’ll just head back here after.” Lip always walked you home after your evening sessions, the late hour and dark skies didn’t exactly make a safe environment for a girl like you, or any girl really, to wander around in.

You shake your head, “No, no, I’ll stick around. If you’re pulling an all-nighter I will too, could probably do with one to get my head around this stuff. We’re in this together, gotta keep you company, right?” You tilt your head, smiling at him.

Your smile’s returned, his grin almost dopey. He nods, messy curls bouncing in time, “Yeah, yeah. You’re good company.”

[atopvisenyashill]

WHERE HAVE ALL THE STARK WIVES GONE AND WHERE ARE ALL THE COZ'S

aka i made the stark family tree from torrhen, the king who knelt all the way to the starklings & filled in some gaps too just for funsies. behold my magnum opus because i am a visual learner. some notes on the tree:

at the start of the tree, you’ll notice some lines are purple. those are not technically canon relations - we know those people existed but we aren’t told how they’re related or who their wives were. similar to my dornish timeline, i filled in a few gaps here based on the information we have to go off, some leaps in logic when it comes to the politics of the time, and some math.

similarly, you’ll notice some names in {brackets}. those are characters that we know exist but we don’t know their name (ie, we know alaric had two sons, we don’t know their names). i picked their names from other stark names.

the kids aren’t always in age order. i couldn’t get the graphic to line up in places bc of the cousin marriages and still keep everyone in age order, so i just gave up aksjd.

all the ones with the book sigil were Lords of Winterfell. all the ones with the show sigil were just born into the stark house.

alright now we got some explaining & rambling below the cut

george give the wives names. george at least give them a house. george pls you don't have to give her a personality just give her a freaking name george.

anyways!!! first things first, let's go into the names and houses i invented for everyone, starting from Torrhen's wife on the left and moving to the right:

Lady Manderly, the last Queen in the North - i think given the Manderlys are the #2 house, it was thematically fitting that the last Queen in the North was a Manderly! I also think it would make sense, given how common Iron Islander raiding was in this time, that Torrhen would want to strengthen his alliance with the house that owns his fleet. We also know the North’s fleet was pretty damn impressive at this time - Aegon uses them to fight several times after Visenya destroys the Vale’s fleet during the conquest.

Lady Dustin, wife to Brandon the Boisterous - Torrhen’s sons hate the Iron Throne and they’re all really pissed at the Stark Maiden-Ronnel Arryn marriage, so I figured Torrhen’s sons would want very fierce, very Northern wives (no offense to the Manderlys). Given Barrowton is one of the only true cities in the North, I thought marrying a family familiar with travelers, maybe a richer house even, might be seen as a benefit to staying strong against the Iron Throne.

Lady Flint, wife to Brandon the Boastful - Similar to Lady Dustin, I thought a strong Northern match would be what the sons of Torrhen would continue to go for. The Flints of Widow's Watch are considered the most powerful of the Flint houses so I thought that made a good match.

Lady Norrey, wife to Edwyn Stark - this one was fun & required some math and analysis. Basically, we know none of Alaric’s sons are married when Alysanne comes to visit, and Alaric is succeeded by his grandson, because both of his sons die before him. It means his grandson could be at the oldest 14 when he inherits. We also have Gyldayn say that some “Stark brothers” looked into seeing if Alysanne giving the New Goft was legal. I thought if Alaric & his sons were so annoyed by this, wouldn’t it make sense to marry into a house near the New Gift, who perhaps will be impacted by the decision and have the knowledge of the area and its history? Since the Norreys are right on the border, I thought that would be a good fit. I also thought it would be a good fit because Cregan married Arra Norrey just a bit later - and one pattern I noticed is that when a family marries into the Stark line once, they tend to remarry each other within a few generations again. They do this with the Blackwoods, the Lockes, AND the Royces - it’s likely the mothers & grandmothers influencing the matches, and I thought it was a fun pattern to repeat.

Lady Reed, wife to Artos Stark - So one thing we know is that Lynara Stark, Cregan's third wife, is not descended from the uncle who attempted to usurp Cregan but from a younger son of Brandon the Boisterous. I also noticed Lynara's son, Brandon, has an affair with a Fenn. The Fenns are sworn to House Reed, so I thought it made sense that this branch of the Starks has perhaps lived in the Neck, and brought a small household with her that included a Fenn or two that her son later has an affair with.

Lady Glover, wife to Ellard Stark - this is another “marry & remarry” match up but there I chose the Glovers also because I noticed the Starks tend to marry into the same few houses over and over again. These are likely their richest vassals and closest allies, so I thought again it would make sense that Ellard would pick a woman from a wealthy or important background as the succession crisis under Jaehaerys starts to kick off (in preparation for a fight, even if it's just a war of words). Since you have Gilliane Glover just a bit down, and I thought that would match up nicely with the "marry and remarry" trend as well.

NOW SOME ANALYSIS

Obviously there's been a lot said about the Sansa-Jonnel and Serena-Edric marriages that I don't really need to repeat at length but - I think the choice to have a Sansa and a Jonnel One-Eye marry is kind of sus, I think the "One-Eye" thing is sus, I think the niece-uncle connection here is kind of sus, and I think the fact that their mother was a Manderly is also sus.

There's also the fact that Serena has several sons and we have no idea what happened to them. That one stands out to me because of the Cregan-Lynara match; as stated above, Lynara is not, as some people assume, the daughter or granddaughter of Arnolf, the uncle that attempted to overthrow Cregan. Her Stark name comes all the way from a younger brother of Brandon the Boisterous. That's quite a few generations back that a Stark line has survived to remarry into the main line and we don't even know if she was an only child or had brothers and sisters. So Brandon's brothers' weren't just mysteriously offed/died out, but just two generations after Lynara, all of Serena's descendants just mysteriously die off? Nah, there's a story here that's hiding. The obvious suspect here is The She-Wolves of Winterfell story with Dunk & Egg. COMMA BUT. It's crazy that there are no Stark cousins in the modern day, no cadet House the way we have the Arryns of Gulltown, the Green Apple Fossoways, the Lannisters of Lannisport, etc., and also equally weird that Lynara's Stark line isn't a named cadet branch.

But let's get into the cadet/cousin branches in the modern day as well - one thing I noticed about the lack of Stark cousins in recent history (ie first and second cousins rather than like, seventh and eighth) is that a lot of them are female line cousins. Catelyn and Robb point this out in the book when Catelyn brings up the Vale Starks in the Templetons, the Royces, and the Waynwoods. I think the fact that Sansa is in direct contact with a host of those same families will come into play; perhaps when she unmasks herself as Sansa, someone will comment on her resemblance to Jocelyn, or maybe that familial connection will prompt a bit more loyalty out of one of Jocelyn's descendants if she has to make a mad dash out of the Vale.

And this is the same with Lyarra; she had a sister, Branda, who married a Rogers, which is a very minor Stormlands house. That stuck out in my head because I think this all really sets up the North to be ruled by Sansa; there are no male cousins or even female line male cousins (shout out Targaryen cousin Robert Baratheon) to step in and say "Well wouldn't you prefer a man as the Stark in Winterfell?" It's just Bran, Rickon, and Jon Snow that could possibly threaten her rule. It seems like she's very set up to echo her predecessor here but instead of Jonnel marrying her to steal her claim, Jon is likely to back up her claim, same as Bran.

And since I'm talking about namesakes here, let's dig into Arya Flint. There's two big associations here for Arya - Brave Danny Flint and the Wandering Wolf, Rodrik Stark. I think it's interesting that he served with the Second Sons, given that Arya is a Second Daughter, rather than the Stormbreakers, which was started by Oscar Tully. The moniker itself, Wandering Wolf, also makes me a bit excited for Arya's future; I've said before but I want Arya to do everything she wants to do and being so closely associated with a "Wandering Wolf" makes me think she will. The Danny Flint connection is also interesting here - there's the fact that Jon Snow, the sibling she's closest to, joins the Night's Watch (and even makes reference to Danny Flint), the fact that Danny dressed as a man and fought with a sword. Similar to the "Wandering" epithet potentially spelling out a happy ending for Arya, I am hopeful she'll have a happier ending than Danny Flint. But I do wonder if perhaps Arya will have some involvement with the Night's Watch, however it exists in the endgame.

Lastly - I'm so curious about Harrold Rogers. Did he help facilitate the friendship between Ned and Robert? Are the Rogers' still kicking around looking Starkish as hell? George where are all the cousins!!

[kiwiana-writes]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

A big ol' fuck you to @rmd-writes for the tag xoxo

1. How many works do you have an AO3? Lol. Lmao even. 289.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 914,620 on AO3, but that includes co-writes as well as things I've podficced where the fic and pod are in the same work. My actual personally-written wordcount, per my Batshit Spreadsheet, is 771,819.

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly RWRB these days, though most of my back catalogue is Schitt's Creek. Also The Pairing and various other things scattered about.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Kinda think that I might be his type aka Alex and Bea fake date coming in at the top spot, which will never not bewilder me. Don't get me wrong, it's a lovely fic!! But I am always surprised that it was a few hundred more kudos than:

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest), the Much Ado actors AU. My magnum opus, my beloved.

We were supposed to find this - baby's first soulmate AU and my first RWRB fic. The brainrot really took hold with this one lmao.

All the Lonely Starbucks Lovers, in which Henry takes 'open mouth insert foot' to a whole new level.

Warm like the glow that you feel head to toe, the age gap fic with older Senator Alex and younger Prince Henry. This is probably the only one in my top five that really surprises me, considering age gaps are... divisive.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always always always.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I mean I did write that one MCD fic in Schitt's Creek, though I maintain the other five parts in that 5+1 are in fact angstier than the MCD ending.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Uhhhhhhh, the rest? The Doylist answer is any of my fics where the HEA is literally forever rather than 'till death do us part'; so, the Schitt's Creek afterlife AU and the RWRB zombie!Alex AU. (Is that all? Am I forgetting one?)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Yeah, sometimes. Weirdly, more through tumblr anons than on the fics themselves? A lot of them I just delete, sometimes I'll give them a bit of a public scolding etc. Frankly at this point if you come into my ask box to be a cunt on anon I'm going to assume you have a public humiliation kink and will indulge you accordingly.

9. Do you write smut? Who's to say.

10. Do you write crossovers? I'm more inclined towards a fusion than a crossover (love a good media fusion) but I did write a short RWRB/The Pairing crossover for VoiceTeam.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. Someone did ask recently, so we'll see!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? HEAPS. @ships-to-sail is an ongoing collaborator, but I also did a bunch of "each write a chapter" type collabs in Schitt's Creek. Currently co-writing something truly fucking incredible with @indestructibleheart.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? IDK if it's a WIP by the strictest definition, but every day the likelihood of the SC kink!verse series being completed slips further away lol.

16. What are your writing strengths? Rae, you're the worst.

Smut, I guess? Giving people new kinks, apparently. Character voice. Also a very specific type of world-building where I explain nothing because the characters already live in that world and let y'all infer how it works, which came up a LOT on one of this year's Kinktober fics in particular and led to my spouse saying "okay so you're basically the Brennan Lee Mulligan of tree fucking", which is sure not a sentence I expected to ever be directed towards me, but here we are.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Anything original, apparently. Good thing I didn't quit my job to be a writer or anything OH WAIT.

(In all seriousness, though, I am genuinely shit at, like, plotting. And action sequences.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it makes sense for the character, sure! I'm enlisting someone who speaks it for anything more complicated than, like, a pet name - I've seen what Google Translate tries to spit out for my second language and therefore don't trust it lmao.

19. First fandom you wrote for? terf queen mcgee's property.

20. Favourite fics you've written? The RWRB fic specifically based on the episode The Husbands of River Song from Doctor Who. Hands down the best thing I've ever written.

I also fucking LOVED the Much Ado actor AU. My love letter to Shakespeare and theatre and queer joy.

-

Tagging @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517 @cricketnationrise @firenati0n @getmehighonmagic

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @notspecialbabe @orchidscript

@piratefalls @sherryvalli @sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! 

[lupinescribbler]

Been thinking recently about this oddly specific trope of a character being emotionally vulnerable or honest in order to be able to connect with a kid they empathize with. I have slightly mixed feelings about it. On one hand it can be overdone, to where the child feels like a cardboard cutout just to elaborate on the protagonist’s traumatic backstory, but there are also a lot of cases that I liked it or thought it was done in an impactful way.

so I figured I’d walk through a handful of examples of this trope (does it have a name???) and give my personal thoughts on each. Spoilers for the episodes referenced of course. Because of image limit this will be part 1 of 2 and I’ll link the second when I get it up.

Supernatural S01E03.

This is one of my favorite iterations of this. Lucas's turmoil, fear, and mutism were portrayed with enough effort and thoughtfulness for him not to just feel like a cardboard cutout, and the way Dean interacted with him felt in-character while still showing a softer side to him. There's also a strong plot reason (Lucas being the only eye-witness) to drive their interactions, making each scene feel like it was striving for an important purpose instead of just ham-fisting 'traumatic backstory' angst.

The scene in the park is what really starts it off. The guy who couldn't name three children he knew a couple scenes earlier, has to try to coax answers out of a traumatized mute kid about said trauma. We see Dean meeting Lucas where he is (draws with him), tries to identify what Lucas might be feeling, ("Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you.") reassures ("I want you to know that I will.") and doesn't push it when Lucas seems unforthcoming.

While this scene overall is very soft and endearing, we get very little of Dean talking explicitly about his own trauma, just one vague line "When I was your age, I saw something." The whole scene is about what Lucas is feeling. Dean's feelings are there too, the audience is already supposed to be drawing parallels, but they are kept on the peripheral.

Then later in the episode we get the next Lucas and Dean scene. We've watched someone else die, upping the stakes. Here is where we really get the emotional vulnerability from Dean in a few blunt, heartbreaking, lines. Even more than that, we get a glimpse at Dean's why. Why the bravado, why he is the way he is. We also have this whole confession observed by Dean's younger brother, which -- trust me as an older sibling -- is excruciating.

Overall I think this works because a) Dean has a strong reason to be this emotionally vulnerable, there are literally lives resting on his ability to get through to Lucas. b) it had the space to be built up in multiple scenes throughout an entire episode and c) Dean is the exact type of character that needs some sort of push to be this emotionally vulnerable and earnest, so the trope just fits.

Magnum PI S01E01

This one is what I'd consider a slightly meh version of the trope. Not trying to offend anyone who found this scene specifically meaningful, but it fell flat to me. The intro joking about the dogs was good, Magnum trying to comfort his dead friend’s son was a good idea, but the “when I was your age, I lost my dad too” kinda lost me. I get he was trying to empathize with the kid, but it ended up feeling like the show was just trying to be like “look! He has a dead dad!”. Additionally the character of this kid felt flat and I don’t remember if he ever even cropped back up in the story outside of this episode or ever had a shred of personality.

In my opinion it might have worked better if they’d had Magnum talk about Nuzo instead of his father. Nuzo is the person both he and the kid cared about and lost, and while it still might have felt cheesy I think it would have felt more anchored to what the rest of the episode is about and helped to get the audience to empathize even more with the grief over a dead friend that drove the whole narrative for the pilot.

I really enjoyed the show overall, don’t get me wrong, and I’ll have another example of this trope in part two of this which — spoilers — I enjoyed a lot.

Would love to hear other people’s opinions of this if anyone sees it, and I invite disagreement.

[fluffyglass]

Which grumpuses does yolka like best, and who does shelda trust to babysit her? P.s. I love her sm, the babything.

The Complete Yolka Babysitting List, with stats and extra details (might edit later)

Filbo

Babysitting Comfort: 3/5

Fun Level: 4/5

Shelda's trust in them: 1/5

Filbo likes watching over Yolka, but he's very nervous about messing something up. Shelda shares this sentiment and is never too keen to let him babysit, given his. Filbo-ness. Yolka, on the other hand, likes hanging out with Filbo a lot. I mean hey, he loses track of her so fast she can go on a little adventure! Somebody please teach this man basic responsibility.

Wambus

Babysitting Comfort: 2/5, later 5/5

Fun Level: 4/5

Shelda's trust in them: 3/5

Wambus was a little freaked out around Yolka at first, to be completely honest. Him and Triffany had always discussed having children of their own, but never got around to it, and suddenly he's being asked to look over this mystery infant?? However, he's kind of like your dad who doesn't want to get a dog. After a single afternoon, he's hooked. Just imagine them taking an afternoon nap in a rocking chair with Wambus's hat covering Yolka's entire head. I could hear that "Aww" all the way from here.

Beffica

Babysitting Comfort: 1/5

Fun Level: 2/5

Shelda's trust in them: 2/5

Honestly, if Beff can get out of babysitting, she always will. She's got snooping to do, she can't sit around with some weirdo baby. What's she supposed to say to her? I found out that your weird uncle is a karaoke singer? She is not lasting a second. Yolka does like her camera though, once again to Beff's dismay.

Gramble

Babysitting Comfort: 2/5

Fun Level: 5/5

Shelda's trust in them: 4/5

Probably one of the most ideal babysitters, at least if he wasn't so freaked out by the prospect of looking after a baby. As long as he's not alone (say hi to Auntie Wiggle!) he's pretty much golden. Yolka loves to play with his snax, and he basically has a built in playpen to keep her in one place. Eight out of Ten, wish he wasn't scared of kids.

Wiggle

Babysitting Comfort: 3/5

Fun Level: 4/5

Shelda's trust in them: 3/5

An audience that won't criticize her? Count Wiggle in! As long as she isn't in the middle of writing her magnum opus, Wiggle's always open to play with Yolka, even letting her play with some of her less fragile instruments. Yolka is going to be a famous triangle player one day, she swears by it.

Triffany

Babysitting Comfort: 5/5

Fun Level: 3/5

Shelda's trust in them: 5/5

Probably Shelda's safest bet if she needs to leave Yolka with someone. Wow! A decent, responsible adult on Snaktooth Island! Who can believe it? Yolka might not be crazy about bones but by Mother Naturae is Triffany trying to teach her. Sometimes if she's good she's allowed to put one in her mouth for a minute.

Cromdo

Babysitting Comfort: 4/5

Fun Level: 4/5

Shelda's trust in them: 1/5

Hello, opposite of Triffany! Cromdo is never allowed to babysit Yolka, because he- without fail- will attempt to convince this infant to join his business. Yolka is the lead manager of Cromdo Mart, and has also been taught plenty of words that a child her age really shouldn't know. Yolka loves him, Shelda hates him.

Chandlo

Babysitting Comfort: 3/5

Fun Level: 5/5

Shelda's trust in them: 4/5

If Chandlo's in charge of Yolka, then one thing's for certain; that infant is getting some GAAAAINZ! Usually he'll play games with her, sometimes picking her up and helping her dunk a ball into one of those kiddie basketball hoops. He witnessed Yolka's first steps but he refuses to tell anyone, lest he ruin the magic for Shelda.

Snorpy

Babysitting Comfort: 1/5

Fun Level: 1/5

Shelda's trust in them: 2/5

And now, categorically the worst possible choice, yet still more likely to be chosen over Cromdo. Snorpy is absolutely convinced that Yolka is secretly a Grumpinati spy robot, and would rather be as far away from her as possible. If he's in charge of her, he'll just set her down somewhere and watch her intently to make sure she doesn't start shooting lasers out of her eyes or something. Yolka doesn't like him.

Floofty

Babysitting Comfort: 2/5

Fun Level: 5/5

Shelda's trust in them: 1/5

If anyone is asked to babysit Yolka less than Cromdo, it's Floofty. For a long time, Floofty was only interested in Yolka due to the curious circumstances of her birth, but after studies determined that she was just a normal grumpling, it was already too late. Floofty is Yolka's favorite babysitter. She absolutely loves them, and the feeling... isn't exactly mutual, but Floofty does get a thrill out of "babysitting" Yolka when they know Shelda doesn't want them to. They're both menaces.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

[cowboyfromh3ll]

Can you do a part 2 for “Say yes to heaven?” Maybe where the mother actually finds someone whom the reader could marry and she tells Arthur about it and he gets angrily possessive and fucks her rough😇

Say Yes To Heaven (Part 2)

(Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader smut)

This shit is 8 pages long and is absolutely FILTHY I did not hold back. This is my magnum opus.

As the title suggests, there is a part one here. It's not absolutely necessary to read but it provides a lot of context.

Warnings: Smut and implied age gap

Your mother was not one for indecision. In fact, she often found the decisions you made to be puerile and childish. And with your twentieth birthday around the corner, she often asked herself where she went wrong, and why you hadn’t been married off yet. And especially now, why you weren’t showing any interest in any boys. At least to her knowledge. Your mother knew you were growing up, and she couldn't hold onto you forever, so she thought she might as well prolong her grasp for as long as possible.

But you lived in two worlds, as many young girls your age did. On one hand, you worked at the local saloon because your mother practically demanded you do. Your bar service was barely adequate but you made just enough to help your family and support your weekly trips to the general store. But that was one world. And the line between your two worlds would blur occasionally. The saloon is how you met Arthur after all, and being fucked up against the back wall of the saloon some days after your shift sure did help you come home in a lighter mood. Not to mention the rides you got. That was your second world.

Your mother's idea of proper courtship involved you in tight silky dresses, corsets cinched so tight you swore your organs were being pushed up your torso, sleeves so puffy it was embarrassing, and a skirt wide and puffy enough to not show any of your natural curves. The make up she once again did for you was modest, light. A dust of pink blush on your cheeks and a deep red lipstick; the lines of your eyeliner tracing round your water lines. Your outfit was hot and suffocating, and you stared at yourself in your full length mirror, your face scrunching up in disapproval. You pulled at the fabrics hugging you, but not too much, or else your mother would hound you for it. Your mother’s outfit choices for you seemed to be as suffocating as her grasp on you and your life.

“(Name)! Are you almost done in there?! You gotta hurry, they’re almost here!” Your mother called out from the kitchen.

“In a minute Momma! I’m just… fixing myself up a bit…” Your tone quieted at the end, afraid of the absolute reign of terror she would send your way if she knew you were changing the look she arranged for you.

Much to your horror, your mother had arranged your meeting with a boy from a wealthy family in Saint Denis. Something about his daddy owning steel mills. How she even managed to arrange something like this with people like that was beyond you. And they were to arrive any minute now.

You sighed in dissatisfaction, sitting down on your bed. You clasped your hands in your lap as you glanced pensively down at the skid marks on your wooden floor. You pursed your lips to suppress a smile, before breaking into a full on grin. You bit your bottom lip to prevent any giggles as you reminisced on the previous Sunday. Memories of your encounter with Arthur came flooding back, and you felt a sudden warmth blossoming between your thighs. You settled your gloved hand on your left breast, feeling your hardened nipple beneath the layers of fabric of your shirt. Slowly, your hand traversed lower, following the same path Arthur previously would have taken about a hundred times or more. Your hand came to settle on your inner thigh, gently sliding further in towards your clothed center. Your eyes slid closed gently as you imagined Arthur in your stead, and your pussy began to pulse as you rubbed yourself through the fabrics of your skirt, attempting to imitate the same roughness of your lover’s hands. Your breath hitched, goosebumps racking through your body— until there was a banging on your door.

“(Name), for the love of god, hurry up!” Your mother yelled from the other side of your door, audaciously interrupting you.

You came back to reality and rolled your eyes.

“In a minute!” You called back again.

You eventually burst out of your room, having rubbed on the same blue eyeshadow you favored; as well as adding more eyeliner. Your mother took one look at you and sagged her shoulders in defeat, sighing with all her pent up stress and frustrations behind it. It certainly served to piss you off, yet you got satisfaction out of it.

"Whatever, now, (Name)," she stepped forward and grasped your shoulders tightly, a vice grip on you to emphasize the seriousness of her words.

"Don't fuck this up for us." She spoke through her teeth, a dead serious look in her eyes as a shadow cast on her face. You almost laughed at her impertinence, shocked by how blunt she was. She walked past you towards the door, and you scrunched up your face behind her, wanting nothing more than to yell and hit her.

But proper ladies did not hit their mothers. And proper ladies did not contain any violence and anger within them. Proper ladies stood and looked pretty, and took the cards dealt to them. And if proper was what would get you through this painstaking meeting, you would kiss the dealer's ass and get through this quickly.

They arrived shortly in a horse drawn carriage, and you plastered on the best obligatory smile you could. You kept your hands crossed before you; in politeness or defensiveness, you could not tell the distinction.

"Good afternoon Mister Carter, we are so happy to have you over! Please, meet my lovely daughter, (Name)." Your mother nudged your forward, prompting you to walk up to the man before you. He looked at you with an interest that bordered on abnormal, his gaze curious and as soft as cold butter. Yet his smile was one of infatuation. And who could blame him. You were gorgeous. The money you spent on yourself was well spent; several strongly scented shampoos and perfumes along with makeup of all kinds. Even the way you did your eyeshadow had its own charm.

"A pleasure to meet you" He said, tipping his hat. And he had that terrible posh accent you hated. It was equivalent to nails on a chalkboard for you, much preferring gruffness in one's tone.

"The pleasure is all mine." You nearly choked on your own words, hating the taste it left on your tongue. It tasted of the bitterness of lies and the sting of forcefulness. A combination you were all too familiar with, yet you refused to become accustomed to it.

His parents followed him out the carriage shortly after, and introductions were carried out in full. The whole time, you wanted nothing more than for Arthur to come and metaphorically save you from this dumpster fire of a meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stormed out your front door, stomping on the wooden steps of your porch so harshly the wood groaned and creaked. You were beyond livid. Your mother followed out, but remained at the door frame, leaning on it and crossing her arms. She narrowed her eyes at you and stared, a sourness to her gaze that had a harsh bite to it. And you felt that bite. You felt every sinking tooth in your back.

The wagon was long gone from your front yard. The meeting has been over for hours. And yet, you and your mother had been at each other's throats since then. It began with a comment on how you weren't polite enough, to how you kept saying all the wrong things, even going as far as to call your makeup ugly. And it didn't help your case that you called Carter and his family stuck up snobbish pigs.

"Look what you fucking did, (Name)." Venom dripped from your mother's every word. And you were willing to spit some back.

"We were THIS close to marrying you off, into a rich family no less, and you fucking BLEW IT." She spoke down on you, both literally and metaphorically. Her anger was beyond disappointment for this one instance, it was an amalgamation of all the things you've done over the years that she did not approve of.

"You saw how his parents looked at me! Him too! He was such a creep! They looked down on us! On me!" You yelled back. You didn't care if your neighbors looked over, in fact, you hoped they heard.

"You keep ruining our lives!" She cried.

"Stop living vicariously through me! Fuck your dreams!"

With that, you stormed off to the nearest saloon, a place you knew you'd find your refuge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arthur welcomed you with open arms, even buying you a few drinks. The warmth of whisky was comforting for you, and so was your lover's embrace. When you first approached Arthur, you did not speak of what had transpired, preferring to let the sweet buzz of alcohol to lull away your adrenaline. The two of you left the saloon eventually, walking arm in arm to the nearest room and board. The familiar roads of your town sickened you; gaslit nighttime streets, sordid and suspicious alleyways, same dusty wooden buildings with faded and peeling paint, gossip obsessed mothers and girls your age who gave you sidelong glances, and the men themselves were short of eldritch.

You sat down on the plush bed of the room, taking in a deep breath as you looked around. The largely wooden interior of the room was cozy, the soft yellow glow of the oil lamp on the table providing a comforting finish to the room. A large full body mirror reminiscent of your own stood in the corner of the room; it also had the same wooden floors (you wondered if you could provide the same skid marks). The room was eerily similar to your own, but the knowledge of being away from home was much more relaxing.

“Room’s real homey.” You commented, attempting to start a conversation. A conversation that wouldn’t involve you telling him what had happened earlier today.

“Yeah, reminds me of yours.” He commented, a lilt in his voice at the end.

You sucked on your bottom lip as you observed Arthur remove his prized gun belt; the same belt he prided so much in it bordered on obsessiveness. Along with his bandolier, which you so desperately wanted to try on one day. He eventually sat next to you, the bed dipping significantly from his weight. His proximity to yours was so close, you could feel the warmth emanating from his body. You naturally leaned into him, smiling gingerly at each other.

"So, sweetheart," he began. "Can you finally tell me what's got you so worked up?"

You took note of the way his large hand slid over your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing circled. You felt your pussy begin to throb from the small gesture. That's how much power he had over you. You pouted your bottom lip as you spoke. As much as you didn’t want to have this conversation, you would feel wrong keeping this from Arthur. You wanted to be transparent.

"Oh, Arthur. Momma wants to marry me off already. I met the man today." You told him. His grip on your thigh significantly tightened, bordering on painful, and the fabric bunched up in a fist.

"And how'd that go?" He asked. A metaphorical shadow cast over his face, and he looked at you expectantly for an answer. You could sense the fire you lit in him, which made you apprehensive.

"Well I… I hated it for one. It was so awkward." You turned your body to face him better, the hand on your thigh never moving. He looked at you in anticipation, waiting for more details about the meeting.

"I mean, I called him and his family stuck up pigs…" You trailed off, hoping that was the answer that would satisfy Arthur. He moved his arm around you, tenderly pulling you closer and placing his hand on the small of your back. You blushed like a schoolgirl when his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb smoothing over supple skin. The two of you were so close that your breasts were smothered into his side. You wanted to lean forward and kiss him, but his grip shifted to your jaw, tightening.

"Arthur…" you whimpered, his grip on your jaw becoming vice-like. And then he began to squeeze. He began to force your mouth open, the flesh of your cheeks squeezed by his fingers as he did so. It was forceful, painful, and so fucking hot.

"That's a good girl." You felt his chest rumble with every word he spoke. "But next time she brings another fool around you, tell me so I can kill him." You began nodding happily, smiling even in your state.

He spat in your mouth, letting your jaw go so you could properly swallow. You did so instinctively and opened your mouth afterwards to show him.

"Good fuckin' girl." He muttered before leaning forward and capturing you in a kiss. There was nothing gentle about it. Arthur was never gentle with you when it came to sex. And you preferred it that way. It was a stark contrast to how he treated you outside the bedroom, treating you as the most delicate, docile thing he was sent to protect. Like you were a porcelain doll he had to handle properly. You were like a heaven sent gift for him, wrapped in the most alluring wrapping paper and tied together with pretty bows that punctuated your enticement. And in the bedroom, you were his to tear away at and use. You might as well have had the words “tear me open” scribbled all over your clothes.

Your lips were shoved against one another, a sloppy exchange of tongues taking place. The hand on your back began to pull at the laces of your corset, undoing each one and loosening it. You breathed a deep sigh of relief, the release of the constriction downright pleasurable. Your poor sides ached, and Arthur quickly moved to rub your sides soothingly after popping off the corset.

"Poor girl." He breathed against you, shoving his tongue back into your whimpering mouth. You keened contently from the massage, allowing yourself to slump over, and in doing so, you heard a few pops from your back. You attempted to giggle but Arthurs tongue was so far down your throat you could barely do so. Your lips were surely bruised and busted, and it did not help that he kept biting down harshly on your lips. Your mother would definitely ask you about it later, but you couldn't be bothered to come up with an explanation now. Or at all.

Arthur grasped the hems of your cotton button up and yanked it open, buttons flying everywhere. You didn’t even complain, more invested in the way the veins on his arms popped at his show of strength. Before you could even realize, your chemise had been slipped off of you by Arthur, gasping at the feeling of Arthur’s calloused hands playing with your pert nipples. You sucked in a breath, involuntarily moving your body away. Just the sight of you squirming made Arthur's cock jump.

“A-Arthur..” You became frisky at the softer touches, the sensitivity of your nipples paired with the feather soft touch of Arthur’s rough thumbs was exhilarating. But his gentleness was short-lived, as he fisted your breasts with both hands, kneading and pushing them together for his own enjoyment. And you couldn’t help but whimper in masochistic delight at the way he slapped your tits. The way he rubbed your cheek before slapping it. And especially the way he hurriedly unbuckled his belt and unlooped it, using that same belt to tie your hands behind you. The leather of the belt dug into your skin, the tightness of it allowing you to even feel your pulse. And it was in feeling your pulse that you became acutely aware that your life was in this man’s hands. And you were more than willing to hand that over to him.

He moved you to stand, commanding your every move. If he told you to blink you’d blink, if he told you to stop breathing you’d stop at once, and if he commanded you to somehow stop your pulse, you would use every bit of strength in your body to will your heart to a macabre cessation.

He yanked your skirt and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you starkly naked infront of him, standing in all your glory. As day turned to dusk outside, the orange glow of the sun and lamp combined gave you a gentle brightness. You moved to step out of the pile of clothing pooled at your feet, pushing it to the side with your foot. You looked at him hopefully, waiting in arousal. Meanwhile, he took his time looking you up and down, committing the image to memory as he had done hundreds of times before.

He stepped forward and moved his hand between your legs, landing a few slaps on your cunt before rubbing you teasingly. At this point, the throbbing between your legs was unbearable to the point you ached in pain. He snaked his arm back and over your hip (Arthur’s favorite handles), giving the bone a squeeze before reaching further and groping your ass. The mound of flesh filled his palm beautifully, the skin squeezing through from between his fingers. But Arthur was greedy, and he'd continue to attempt to grasp your ass cheek whole in his palm. He gave you a stinging slap on the ass before forcing you onto your knees.

"That is what I like to see." He chuckled darkly. You watched in anticipation as Arthur undid his zipper, shoving his underwear down before fishing his cock out. You took a moment to admire the happy trail you loved oh so dearly; trailing from his belly button down to his cock, surrounding it in a thick tuft of dark brown hair. It was second nature for you at this point to open your mouth up at the sight of it, and he chuckled at how well he had trained you.

"Atta girl." He growled, gripping your hair before guiding your head down his cock slowly. The two of you held eye contact the whole time, and you felt him twitch inside your mouth because of it. It was customary for you and Arthur to skip the cock teasing, immediately jumping to you throating him.

Arthur clicked past tonsils, sliding deeper into your throat as it went into peristalsis. You closed your lips around the base finally, leaving a ring of red lipstick around him, a sort of trademark that you left on Arthur. You hollowed your cheeks the most you could, attempting to accommodate the size of his fat cock. Your mouth began overproducing saliva in an attempt to ease the intrusion into your mouth.

Arthur watched with a sadistic grin on his face as he watched you choke on his cock; as you struggled to suck in a breath through your nose. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears streamed down your face, and you felt Arthur shove a thumb into the side of your mouth to help you accommodate for the size.

"Look at me." He demanded. And you did just that. Your bleary eyes, tear filled and watery as they were, looked up at him through soaked lashes.

"Such a pretty girl." He purred, stroking the side of your face. He hadn't begun to move, simply enjoying the sight beneath him. You were completely his. And he could do whatever he wanted with you. You blushed at being called pretty, even though you knew you looked like an absolute mess right now. Your eyeliner was surely smeared by your tears, not to mention the mascara that was definitely running down and spotting your cheeks. Arthur was never a man to put much thought into art, but he believed you were art personified. His god given canvas that he could paint and fuck up as much as he pleased.

After a moment of admiration, Arthur gripped your hair once more, and pulled you back from his cock. You kept your cheeks hollowed, sucking as hard as you could to maximize pleasure for Arthur. And you were rewarded in the form of deep, guttural moans. Though Arthur would not stick to the slow pace of moving your head for you, nor would he allow you to do the work. Instead, he began to thrust his hips in and out of your throat. The feeling of his engorged cock being hugged by warm, wet tissue was almost too much to handle.

You sputtered for air, sucking in jagged breaths through flared nostrils. The lascivious shlucking of your throat made your face warm with embarrassment, and more saliva than your mouth could handle spilled over your lips and dripped down your chin. For a moment you choked particularly hard, causing you to cough around Arthur. But that did not stop him, he was far too enamored by the way your mouth hugged him. You willed it away by swallowing, and you felt him shudder with pleasure. But his shudders were an all too familiar sign to you that he was close to cumming.

Suddenly, he sheathed his cock from your mouth; a sheen of your saliva cascading down it. You gulped in as much air as you could, panting heavily as you felt Arthur slap his sopping wet cock on your forehead, then rubbing it all over your face thereafter. As you caught your breath, you looked up at him and smiled, total adoration in your eyes.

“I love you.” You gasped.

“I love you too, doll face.”

When you stood up to move to the bed, your knees were sore and stung from being scraped against the wooden floor. Flecks of blood spotted your knees, but you paid it no mind when Arthur lifted you up off your aching legs and into his arms with ease.

“I’ve got ya, girl.” He reassured, kissing the side of your wet cheek. Your heart fluttered as he settled your weight on the plush mattress. Arthur unbuttoned his shirt, and his cock stood so hard and high that it bobbed. You felt shivers go up your spine in anticipation of having it inside you. Arthur settled his back on the mattress, legs spreading wide as he patted his pelvis as an invitation. You loved riding Arthur. And even though you were on top, he continued to be in complete control over your body.

You climbed on top, back facing away from him to give him a good view of your ass. He wasted no time in gripping your ass and shaking the flesh, giving it a swift smack as you began to position yourself. Arthur did not want to move slowly and guide you down, no. Instead, he shoved you down in one swift motion, allowing you to swallow his cock completely with your pussy. You could not help screaming in pain and pleasure, shimmying on his cock as you tried to find your comfort. You planted an arm behind you on Arthur’s downy chest to steady yourself, gasping when he immediately began thrusting up into you.

Arthur wrapped his arms around your hips and held you in place while he rammed into you from below. The impact of his hips smacking into your ass caused the skin to ripple just like he liked it. You let out one long, continuous moan while Arthur fucked you. His thrusts became frantic, absolutely losing himself to the pleasure of your soaking cunt. His jeans subsequently became stained and ruined by your slick, something he would cherish rather than complain about.

“You’re such a good girl.” He moaned. He tilted his head back and allowed his eyes to slide shut, relying on his sense of hearing to visualize you. You looked completely disheveled, face smeared with sweat, tears, and saliva. Your makeup was absolutely ruined, your body sweaty and exhausted. But you kept going. The wet slaps of skin on skin bounced off the walls and made Arthur shudder in pleasure.

You felt Arthur’s body shudder once more, realizing he was close. But before Arthur could release, you ended up cumming all over his cock, trembling violently as you did so. Your back arched where you sat, feeling Arthur still under you as you came down from your high. The two of you remained in the same spots, and you were able to realize now just how thick and suffocating the air had become. The windows themselves had fogged up.

“You made a mess all over me, girl, and good girls clean up after themselves.” It was a gentle command, yet one you would follow nonetheless. You climbed off of his lap, noticing a dampness on your ass from all the slick; you didn’t even want to imagine how Arthur’s pants felt on him right now.

You grunted as you leaned over his cock, taking a hold of it. Exhaustion overtook every limb of your body, but you wanted to make Arthur cum nonetheless. Your hand became sticky and wet, and you lowered your mouth onto Arthur’s tip and sucked. At the same time, you pumped his shaft, twisting your wrist in time with each stroke. The exhaustion became all worth it as you heard him moan and whimper, and you willed yourself to lick a swath up his cock from his balls as if you were cleaning it.

You took him deep in your throat a few times until you felt him shudder one last time, releasing into your mouth seconds later. Rivulets of cum spurted down your throat, some of it even running down the side of your mouth. You pulled yourself off to prevent yourself from choking, swallowing what you could and watching as he finished cumming on himself.

“You did good, sweetheart.” Arthur sat up and pulled you towards him by your arm, feeling just how worn out you were as you went limp against him.

“You sweet, sweet girl.” He continued cooing sweet nothings into your ear, slowly lulling you to rest. “I won’t ever let anyone take you from me, you understand?”

You nodded sleepily in response, your head resting on his shoulder. He pulled you to lay on his side, the skin on skin contact making both your stomachs flutter. Soon enough, you’d have to bring Arthur home to your mom and show her what a real man looked like.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Good lord

.

Say Yes To Heaven - Lana Del Rey

[mightybog]

Twenty Questions for Fanfic Writers

Thank you @liviapeleia for the asks <3!!

Tagging longtime frond @breadkween, fabulous runner of @merlinmicrofic @queerofthedagger (thank you!) and reader and writer who's left me lovely comments @achillesuwu. @mythandmagic, Ao3 is down rn so I can't check but if you have any fics yourself, here's an ask game for you! There's no obligation, presh or time limit of course! Also like @liviapeleia said before me, consider yourself tagged if you see this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

11

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

265,960

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now just Merlin. I've written for other fandoms in the past but each of those works have been standalone.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Always His Destiny | Merlin | A true love's kiss, resurrection and golden age AU written for Glompfest 2024.

Like Every Tree Stands On Its Own | Merlin | A longfic inspired by other Arthurian media/sources featuring Wildman Prophet!Merlin and a magical forest. This is my magnum opus.

What's Mightier Than a Sword and Robs a Prince of His Servant? | Merlin | Pre-slash Merthur minor canon-divergence in which Merlin's talents in speech writing land him a promotion and Arthur is Not Pleased™.

Only Human | Venom | A short gift/exchange fic about masturbation, lol. The fic I received in exchange was also about masturbation. In my defence this was a writing exercise (I promise).

The Sky Is Falling | Nightvale | Unfinished fic about alcoholism recovery, love, community and the complete collapse of reality.

...Okay wow what a mix :D

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really love comments and I love getting into discussions with readers! It really makes my day to see that someone has commented on one of my fics.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Am I allowed to choose a soon to be published WIP? Words Are Dead, a microfic inspired by the Agnes Obel song of the same name in which Merlin and Arthur are unable to communicate when Arthur returns. Merlin has lost Brythonic, his first language, and his capacity to relearn it. He's simply been alive for far too long and his mind has suffered :(

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Like Every Tree has a prolonged bittersweet kind of ending but I think Always His Destiny wins.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope/not yet!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, though so far it hasn't been the focus of any of my works, there's no reason why that can't change though (the Venom one doesn't count, I make the rules here). As to what kind I'd say loving and intimate, I guess? Sometimes with a bit of a hurt/comfort element to it. Again, no reason why I can't branch out in the future ;)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

While not labelled as a crossover, Like Every Tree was heavily inspired by Arthurian media both new and old, and one medieval Irish source. I did so much research for this fic and I'm still down those various rabbit holes. It was a homage to my favourite, janky cartoon movie from my childhood Quest for Camelot. Otherwise I don't write proper crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also don't think so.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No but I would love to!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I guess it really has to be Merthur! I don't recall a ship ever having such a hold on me. Those two are doomed but made for each other. The way they interact is so much fun to read/write.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Damn, this is definitely Be Here When the Weather Turns, a Mushi-shi fic. It has a very soft, restful and liminal vibe and I adore it. I really do wish I can finish it someday. So sometimes like a song, you share a piece of media with someone, or you associate it with a particular chapter in your life, and that song/piece of media brings up feelings. I'd like to think it's still worth a read. If you don't know Mushi-shi, please consider checking it out, it was weird and quiet and beautiful.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I can't deny that I put a lot of love into this hobby. Also @breadkween has told me that they really like my dialogue :3

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm really prone to typos. I can re-read something a hundred times and just fail to see them. I'm a very slow writer; what I put out usually goes through months of edits and change-ups. Lastly I have embraced a faux-pas or two for fun, such as starting sentences with 'and.' And no one can stop me >:)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd only be comfortable writing dialogue in a language I've formerly learned and have some level of familiarity with for fear of getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Okay I love this question because the answer is the highly formative Garth Nix's Keys to the Kingdom series, a YA series I was obsessed with, and have continued to read, and re-read as an adult and as unexpected prequels and sequels popped up in more recent years. I wrote it on a literal floppy disk :D First fandom I wrote for that I actually published online was Undertale.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Definitely Like Every Tree. I'm just really proud of it :3