#machatnoir

[vorchagirl]

Smut is hard (pun not intended)

I am *struggling* with the threesome smut in the final chapter of Saints and Liars. I'm not sure why - this isn't anything new to me and I enjoy writing smut - but suddenly my brain seems to be having trouble with words and emotions and making things flow.

Am I tired?

Is being back at work and reading poorly written PPTs and work documents finally melting my brain?

If anyone has anything Harry Carlyle or Reyes Vidal or Sara Ryder related they want to send my way as inspiration via a reblog or message I'd be happy - pictures, screenshots, head canons, favourite romance moments in fics, drabbles, fic links etc.

I think I need to just take a break, focus on something else for a while, and then try writing this again tomorrow.

(In the meantime enjoy this cute rotoscope piece of Sirius & Reyes art I commissioned from machatnoir a long time ago.)

[elenachatnoir]

Please consider: I can't follow you back with this account (it's not my main), so you'll be followed back by the user machatnoir 😊

[ladymdc]

@machatnoir / @chatnoir-art sketched a scene from my Noir fic, Wandering in the Dark, in which Cullen wears Ev’s girly sunglasses for my Patreon reward this month ❤️ And I am just... ;LAKSJFADKJFA SO IN LOVE WITH IT.

Relevant excerpt from CH.2 below the cut:

He had the cigarette in his mouth, and he drew on it so hard he nearly choked. “You have elfroot?” Smoke burst out between them.

“Yes, and a pair of sunglasses, in my suitcase.” She held her hand out, fingers beckoning, and without a second thought he handed over the cigarette.

With both hands free, Rutherford shifted in the seat to lean over it as best he could with his size and retrieve her little, brown suitcase. He set it in his lap and pressed on the latches to open it. Right on top was the pair of sunglasses in question. Lifting them up, he gave her a wry look.

“You can’t be serious.”

She shrugged. ”Just trying to help. The elfroot is buried in there somewhere.”

Making a face, he unfolded the cat eye sunglasses. Despite being quite practiced at ignoring the headache, it was something done indoors with drawn blinds. Not midday surrounded by endless amounts of pristine white snow. He heaved a sigh, then crammed them on his face.

Trevelyan gave him a sidelong glance. That small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth again.

“Don’t.”

“You look cute.”

“Dammit, I’m not —“ and then Rutherford saw a hint of his reflection in the window. He huffed a breath and couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

When he looked over at her, he felt his heart skip one too many beats, then beat faster, all because she started laughing. It was genuine and warm; a glimpse behind the walls built up around her and what he saw was beautiful.

“I guess I’ve been called worse things,” he allowed amicably.

“Haven’t we all.”

[briarfox13]

Somehow completely forgot to post this beautiful sketch by @machatnoir / @chatnoir-art (things haven't been so good the last month so my memory is a bit crap =P)

Look how cute they are together <3 Cullen always likes to surprise Blackie will kisses which Blackie absolutely loves <3 Kissing him is one of her favourite things to do

Thank you for drawing them, it means the world to see them in your style <3 Ifr you can follow them and grab a commission!!! I know I want to commission Elena <3 

[agentkatie]

Ok, gotta tell you: a parenting drabble/one shot written by you with Cullen and Shepard would be hilarious and priceless xDDD

You (and @kagetsukai​) are the best/worst influences :P I got incredibly carried away, but here it is!

Sunday Lunch

Shepard and Cullen play host to their daughter’s new boyfriend. It goes, predictably, terribly.

2989 words, Cullen x Shepard (also: Baby!ShepRutherford x Baby!FenHawke), featuring fluff, teenage angst, questionable parenting, and a hint of NSFW at the end.

“I refuse. I categorically refuse, Moll.”

Shepard sighed, abandoning her dough to face her pouting husband. Many things about Cullen had softened over the years; his clipped accent had surrendered to its broad Fereldan roots, his formerly rigid hair had been overrun by curls, and his once-toned abdomen had tragically lost its war against pastries - but his stubbornness had remained, hard and unyielding. She would have preferred he kept the abs. “You’re getting worked up over nothing.”

“She is sixteen,” Cullen huffed. “She is too young to be involved with anyone - least of all with him.”

“He’s just coming to visit for a few days; they aren’t getting married.”

“I know they will not get married; they are just going to— to fraternise. Is that what you want? Our future grandchild, the Hawke?”

Shepard bit her lip, trying her best not to laugh at her husband’s petulance. “If that’s what you’re concerned about, I gave her The Talk last year.” Cullen huffed again, his weathered brow wrinkling further as he glowered out the kitchen window. “Does this have something to do with the Hawke family being full of mages?”

“It has something to do with the Hawke family being full of Hawkes.”

“Maybe Marian’s the black sheep; Bethany turned out alright. And Fenris is pretty level-headed.”

He looked towards her once more, one eyebrow arching in scepticism. “He used to rip out people’s hearts.”

“Yeah, he’s really cool,” Shepard said, unable to keep the dreamy lilt out of her voice. “Kinda hot, actually. Pity Hawke got there first.”

“Now you are just trying to provoke me,” he grumbled, though there was a twinkle of humour in his eyes. “Why are you being so calm about this?”

“Because, my lion, I have a plan.”

“Indeed?” Cullen asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “What do you suggest?”

“There’s no point in forbidding it; that’ll only make them want each other more. We’ll have to scare him away. I propose a very dignified Sunday lunch - during which I show him that, whilst his dad might be able to rip out hearts, Cassie’s mom can turn grown men to dust.” To prove her point she picked up her rolling pin, bringing it down against the kitchen counter with such force the wood splintered. “Any questions?”

“One,” he said, placing his hands on her waist as he smiled properly for the first time that afternoon. “Have I told you I love you today?”

“Only twice,” she grinned, pushing onto her tiptoes to kiss him. “You’re slacking.”

- - - - -

At the age of twelve Mal Hawke’s heart had been captured by a cascade of golden curls - his breath stolen by a fervent smile stretching freckled cheeks - and he hadn’t looked away since. It had taken two years for him to speak to Cassie without stuttering, another three to kiss her, and sixth months for his mother to stop laughing about it, but through it all he’d been unwavering in the conviction he would marry her one day.

His parents were less convinced. When Cassie’s letter arrived it took two weeks to convince his father it wasn’t a trap; a further two were spent persuading him not to accompany him to South Reach. When Mal eventually departed, his mother gave him a new sword as a parting gift, and bade him goodbye with the reminder that if Curly gives you trouble tell him I’ll kick his ass - and, like a fool, he ignored her, believing with youthful naivety the former Commander would soften on seeing Mal’s love for his youngest daughter. He spent his trip south scouring through her letters, committing facts on her family to memory; that her twin sisters could be differentiated by a cluster of freckles at Rory’s left eye, and that it was best to address both her parents as Commander, and not to question who was the senior officer. He’d even acquired a potted Prophet’s Laurel for David, who at thirteen years old was already an avid botanist, abandoning the family trade of hitting things for a peaceful life amongst dirt.

And his parents had been right to prepare him for Cassie’s father, who greeted him at the door with a glare and a handshake that almost broke his fingers. But they’d neglected to warn him about her mother.

“Moral of the story,” Commander Shepard said cheerfully, wrapping up her fifth consecutive tale of bloodshed with an unsettling smile and a manic glint in her eyes. “If you’re trying to stay incognito, don’t punch someone so hard you actually decapitate them. I ruined the evening and a perfectly good dress. Anyone for seconds?”

Mal glanced down at his barely-touched plate of food, his stomach churning as the congealing gravy turned to rivers of blood in his mind. “No, thank you,” he said as he pushed his plate to one side, offering Shepard a smile that was more like a grimace.

“You’ve hardly eaten a thing,” Shepard said, her voice sincere and brow puckered with concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Probably not, because you keep talking about decapitating people,” Cassie grumbled.

“He asked!”

He hadn’t asked; he’d merely enquired if she’d ever visited Starkhaven, after which she’d launched into a tenuous tangent about the time she’d attended a masque hosted by the Prince of Starkhaven. After an entire meal of such stories, he was beginning to suspect she’d never been to an event and not killed someone.

“Tell a nicer story, Ma,” Nova said, winking at Mal from across the table.

“Yeah,” Rory agreed. “Tell him how you and Da met.”

Nova pressed her lips together to stifle laughter as Rory nudged her indiscreetly, and with a sinking feeling Mal began to suspect the twins were setting him up. “An excellent suggestion,” Shepard nodded. “It was just outside Kirkwall, actually - right after I destroyed an entire race of killer machines, but that’s a different story. Cullen had been cornered by a band of Tal-Vashoth; they’d already killed the other Templars, but Cullen was still going strong.” She placed a hand on her husband’s arm, a soft smile blossoming across her face as she regarded her partner; it would have been romantic, if Commander Rutherford wasn’t silently glaring at Mal - as he had been for the past forty minutes. “Cullen is very strong,” she said emphatically, her smile tightening as she looked back at Mal. “He’d already killed four Tal-Vashoth by the time I arrived, but they had him pinned down. Luckily, the eight remaining weren’t much of a challenge for me. Have you ever fought a Qunari, Mal?”

She knew full well he hadn’t, but he found the courage somewhere inside himself to talk about a person who had. “No, but I know they’re tough. My mother says defeating the Arishok was the toughest battle she ever fought.”

“Oh, yeah; I remember reading about that. Something about her running a figure of eight around two pillars whilst chugging health potions.”

“Ma!”

Shepard raised her hands in surrender as footsteps sounded just outside the room; David burst through the kitchen door, Prophet’s Laurel tucked under his arm and a wide grin on his face. “Bull’s here!”

Mal didn’t know who Bull was, but judging by Cassie’s expression he didn’t want to find out; her eyes narrowed to slits as she glared murderously at her mother. “You didn’t. Ma, you promised—”

“Oh, look; it’s The Iron Bull!” Shepard exclaimed, pushing up from her seat to greet their new guest. “Feared mercenary leader of Bull’s Chargers!”

Mal swivelled in his seat, the colour rapidly draining from his face as his eyes landed on the man she addressed; a heavily-armed, war-beaten Qunari took up the entire doorway, his one eye scanning the room as if scoping it for enemies. “Commanders. Kids. Hope you don’t mind me dropping by.” His gaze landed on Mal, and his eye narrowed infinitesimally. “You’re new,” he noted; with two strides he closed the distance between them, pulling out the chair next to him and sitting down heavily. “Finished with this?” he asked, grabbing a chicken leg from Mal’s plate before he’d even answered and stripping it to the bone in one bite. “Killing people always works up my appetite.”

“What have you been killing today, Bull?”

Every fibre in Mal’s being was itching to run, far away from Cassie’s homicidal mother and terrifying family friend; it was only Cassie’s hand on his under the table that kept him rooted in the situation, and stopped him from making a break for it through the kitchen window. “You said you wouldn’t do this!” Cassie yelped, her hand tightening around Mal’s.

“Do what?” Shepard asked, her voice so innocent Mal very nearly believed her. “I think it’s nice to have friends drop by unexpectedly.”

“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to buy—”

“I was in the area,” Bull shrugged, leaning in far too close to Mal as he scooped a dumpling off his plate. “Top secret mission for the Divine. You know how it goes.”

“I don’t believe you. Da, please—”

Cassie’s appeal to her still-glaring father was cut off at the sound of more footsteps, and her eyes flashed as she scowled at her mother once more. “Who’s that?” she demanded, but Shepard merely shrugged. “Who is it?”

“I actually have no idea; I’m just as intrigued as you,” Shepard said, her eyes lighting up in the next moment as she looked over Mal’s head at their latest visitor. “Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast!” Mal knew that name; he turned in his seat once more to face the woman who’d threatened his uncle Varric a lifetime ago, and though twenty years had elapsed since then she looked just as formidable as he’d imagined. “Right Hand of the Divine, Hero of Orlais, dragonslayer and all-round badass! What a lovely surprise!”

“I hope you do not mind me dropping in,” the Seeker said, her sharp jawline flexing as her gaze fell on Mal. “I am on… important business,” she offered, much less believably than the Qunari. “For the Chantry.”

“Perfect,” Cassie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Who’s going to turn up next; Divine fucking Victoria?!”

Commander Rutherford finally spoke out at his daughter’s outburst, his glare directed away from Mal for a glorious moment of respite. “Cassiopeia Shepard-Rutherford! Language!”

“Ma says it all the time!”

“In my defence, I try really hard not to,” Shepard said. “Cassandra - would you like some chicken?”

“Maker, what is wrong with all of you?!” Cassie exclaimed, furiously pushing up from her seat - although at five foot tall, standing hardly made her seem more threatening.

“There is nothing wrong with me,” Commander Rutherford bristled, eyes boring into Mal’s in a way which sent a shiver down his spine. “All I wish to know is why a man of nearly twenty is consorting with a child.”

“I’m not a child!” she protested. “I’m almost seventeen!”

“And I’ve actually only just turned eighteen—”

“Are there no eighteen-year-olds in the Free Marches?” he demanded. “Is there something wrong with women your own age?”

“We’re women his own age,” Rory pointed out as her twin fell apart in silent laughter. “What are you saying about us, Mal?”

“I hate you all!” Cassie screeched. “I’m quitting this family and becoming a Hawke!”

And with that she turned on her heel, storming from the kitchen and slamming the door behind her with such force the whole room seemed to shake. And following her to her bedroom would undoubtedly have him thrown out of their house, but the alternative - staying around the dinner table and quite possibly becoming the next course of their meal - seemed like an even worse idea.

“Oh, dear,” Commander Shepard sighed, shooting Mal a sympathetic smile. “That’s the Shepard women for you; an unstable bunch, the lot of us. Best steer clear.” She stood once more, busying herself with clearing the plates from the table and, once she was done, pulling a covered tray off the windowsill. “Would anyone like dessert?” she asked. “I made blood orange loaf cake.”

“That depends,” The Iron Bull grinned, leaning back on his chair and winking at Mal. “Did you use real blood?”

“No,” Shepard smirked back. “But I can probably find you some, if you need it.”

- - - - -

“I think we went too far today.”

Cullen glanced up from his book as his wife readied herself for bed, her silver-streaked curls free from her ever-present braid as she scrubbed the remnants of makeup from her face. And, loathe though he was to admit it, he agreed with her, so much so that guilt had prevented him from reading even a line of his novel. “It will get rid of the Hawke boy,” he told her, attempting to reassure himself as much as her. “That’s all that matters.”

“He didn’t seem very… Hawkeish.” With a sigh she flopped down next to him on their bed, propping her chin on his shoulder as he placed his book to one side. “He actually seemed like a good kid. I swear the last time we saw him he was trying to beat up a tree.”

“I think that was Hunter; he’s the older one.”

“She called one of her kids Hunter Hawke?” Shepard asked, scrunching up her nose in derision, and Cullen shrugged.

“You named all of ours after planets.”

“For the thousandth time - they aren’t planets,” she bristled - completely predictably - at his teasing. “A nova is an astronomical event, an aurora is a light display—”

“I know, Moll,” he chuckled, cutting off her grumblings with a kiss to her temple; she made a disgruntled noise but yielded to him as he pulled her closer, one arm stretching out across his chest.

“Plus, Mal is literally Orlesian for ‘bad’. Who names their baby ‘bad’?”

“Whilst I do agree, Malcolm was her father’s name.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, wincing slightly. “Well, now I definitely feel mal.”

Cullen let out a splutter of laughter, and she smiled up at him. “I suppose we may have gotten carried away,” he conceded. “We were a little harsh on him.”

“We put the fear of God into the kid. We were a lot harsh on him.” She sighed again as she absentmindedly weaved her fingers through his chest hair. “By the way - inviting Cassandra? A stroke of evil genius; I’m very proud of you.”

Cullen frowned. “I didn’t invite her; I assumed you did.” Shepard shook her head. “Hmm. She must have heard about it from Bull.”

“Or she has a sixth sense for protecting her namesake.”

Their bedroom door creaked open, and they both groaned at the sight of an empty doorway, knowing full well what it heralded; Mairyn lept onto their bed, wedging herself firmly between Cullen and Shepard with a contented bark. Mairyn was still little more than a puppy, Calenhad having died of old age some time ago and Shepard only just recovered enough from the loss to agree to another; whereas Calenhad had quickly grasped the concept of personal space, Mairyn favoured being as close to her masters as possible at all times. Cullen hoped it would be correctable with training; Shepard, on the other hand, firmly believed the dog was wilfully ignoring their commands. “Ugh, you’re such a third wheel,” Shepard grumbled, half-heartedly trying to push the dog off of her; she merely barked again and planted an enthusiastic lick on Shepard’s cheek.

“What do you think, pup?” Cullen asked, scratching Mairyn behind the ears. “Were we too mean to the boy?”

Mairyn whined, fixing Cullen with a look so reproachful he almost left to beg Mal’s forgiveness there and then. “I guess that answers that,” Shepard mumbled. “We should apologise. Tomorrow.”

“I agree,” Cullen said, and then to Mairyn; “go keep Cassie company. If she tries to run away in the night, let us know.”

“And if Mal tries to sneak into her room - go for the balls.”

“He can go into her room to console her,” Cullen clarified the command. “But anything inappropriate - then yes, go for the balls.”

Mairyn barked in confirmation, launching herself off the bed and then, tail wagging, stalking towards Cassie’s room. Shepard stood to close the door, blowing out the candles in their room before returning to their bed; he expected her to curl up next to him but instead she slung one leg across his waist, and even in the darkness he could still make out her mischievous expression as she straddled him. She leaned in to kiss him, her lips treading the first steps of a dance they were both experts in now; with practiced hands his fingers teased along her waistband, rocking her hips back and forth with just enough pressure to make her moan.

“I still think it is a mistake for them to be involved,” he muttered against her lips, needing the final word before his mind became too fogged by her to think rationally.

“Maybe,” she agreed, her talented mouth trailing lower now, pressing soft kisses to almost-faded scars across his shoulders and chest. “But maybe we need to let her make her own mistakes.” She paused and looked up at him again, her face suddenly fierce. “Although if one of the twins shows up with Hunter, I reserve the right to kill him.”

“What if Hawke comes after us?”

Shepard smirked, leaning back to pull off her shirt; as the garment fluttered to the floor she sparked up a soft mass effect field around her, glowing blue and ethereal and beautiful in the moonlight. “I’m fairly certain I can take her.”

Cullen chuckled, the force of it rumbling through Shepard as she sat astride him, and it felt like the perfect embodiment of their marriage; firstly that it was never boring, and secondly that they laughed. “So am I, my love,” he told her, before leaning in to kiss her again.

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

4 and 10 for the OTP ask? Lydia and Cullen maybe? :D

Sure! thank you :)

4. Who initiates the forehead touch™?

Cullen, definitely. It’s a very Cullen thing. After the first time they kiss he rested his forehead against hers, and Lydia swears it was more intimate than their kiss, because it showed he wanted to stay. Sometimes she’ll initiate. It’s their way of letting each other know what everything will be alright :)

10. Who picks up the other fireman style in a playful way?

Cullen again! though it’s a bit hard when they’re wearing armor. He would do it in the water more :) 

Couple asks!

[barbex]

A shakarian fic for @machatnoir as part of our end of the year exchange at  @masseffectwritercircle, complete with cheesy cover. Happy New Year’s Eve!

Destined Through Galaxies

Garrus settles down on a hoverboard and directs it to glide under the Mako to inspect the underside. Scanning with his omni-tool, he can already see that the damage is extensive but mostly superficial.

He is deeply engrossed in the scanning process, checking for structural damage, making a list of repairs. Just as he inspects a scratch with a deep scan, something crashes inside the Mako and he almost cracks his head on the underside. He maneuvers the hoverboard back out and hits the opener of the door to the vehicle, wondering if he should have gotten his gun from the locker.

When he climbs up the stairs, he is greeted by the Commander's butt. She is on her knees, wiping up some liquid on the floor. The pieces of a shattered cup are in a rough pile next to her. For a moment, all Garrus can look at is the dip of her waist and the soft curve of her hips.

He turns his gaze to the shards on the floor before his commanding officer can catch him staring at her ass. No cultural differences could convincingly excuse that kind of behaviour.

"You need any help, Commander?"

"You were working under the Mako?" she asks without turning around.

"Yes, Commander."

"Sorry, I didn't notice." She turns around with a smile. "I would have waited until you were done." She climbs up on the bench on the inside of the Mako.

"Do you often sit inside the Mako?" Garrus wonders if he is overstepping any bounds right now.

"Hiding, hiding is the word." Shepard leans back and unscrews the top of a thermos flask. The familiar smell of that terrible human concoction 'coffee' wafts through the room. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes in bliss.

"Then I will leave you to it, Commander," Garrus says and turns to climb down the steps.

"No. I mean, you can stay, if you want."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of hiding?”

Continue reading on AO3

[slothssassin]

machatnoir replied to your photo “And so it begins - I’m actually doing it. I’m playing a different...”

OMG IS TOTALLY WORTH IT <3

I’M SO CURIOUS NOW AHHHH

[vulptilla]

For the "get to know the blogger": what's your ideal trip? :)

Staying at home, lol. :D I’d like to travel more, but I stress too much and can’t sleep if I know I’ll have to leave my home next day, so usually I end up being tired and moody and anxious, but if I pretend that I’m not like that for a moment, I’d say... hmm, this is difficult question! :D I’d love to visit Berlin again. Nothing too planned, since I’ve visited there several times already. Cheap hotel and chilling. And cocktails. 

Thank you for asking!

[jozstankovich]

Happy Birthday to my amazing friend @machatnoir!  Hope you have an amazing day luv ♡

[agentkatie]

For the WIP wednesday...I'll go with "sorry" :P

Pretty bold of you to assume either Shepard and Cullen would ever apologise for anything :P I’m going for angst… sorry!

“I’m so sorry, Cullen,” she muttered,too quietly for anyone but those closest to them to hear. “Just… I hopeyou know I didn’t mean any of it.” She cleared her throat, taking a stepback and sticking her hand out, and it just seemed so wrong to end whatever they’d had on a handshake. “It’s been anhonour working with you, Commander.”

Thanks :D

[effelants]

Ouch, damn sickness!! Stay warm while answering the 42 and the 74 (in the hope I picked the right numbers xD)

Damn the sickness indeed! I’m plenty warm - I am huddled on a couch wearing my N7 onesie, with a pile of blankets and two cats.

42. Are you a good judge of character? I mean - I generally consider myself an okay judge of character, but at the end of the day, everyone gets their character judgments wrong sometimes. So I dun goofed and will continue to dun goof every now and then. :D 

74. Are you ticklish? Yes. Extremely ticklish. But I will guard that secret with my life so no one can use it against me - so don’t tell anyone.

Help me spend my sick day - ask me some questions!

[tsoni-sarchive]

24, 42, 47 for the number ask? :D

24. do you think you’re a good singer?lol I mean sometimes I think I’m alright? But sometimes...no...just no...

42. who is your biggest inspiration?Gosh I don’t think I could pinpoint any single person. All the artists I follow inspire me to keep making art. My family and friends inspire me to keep going with like...life stuff. 

47. have you ever seen a broadway musical?I’ve never been to broadway. But I did go see Wicked twice when it was touring Australia :) and that was amazing!!

[shannaraisles]

"Right now, I don't know if I want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge" for Enaste :D

I LOVE IT! Tell you what, whoever does end up as her LI is in for a rough ride with some of these prompts. ~laughs~ Thank you so much, lovely!

[MAY-hem prompts needed - FOUR slots to fill!]

[eldritchbeauty]

Music Tag

Put your music on shuffle and write the first 10 songs that come on, then tag 10 people to do the same.

@lonaru​ tagged me in this forever ago, sorry for taking so long to get to it! I tend to switch between playlists, so I’ll use the entirety of my phone’s music.

Unbreakable Heart- Three Days Grace

Ready For It- Taylor Swift

No Surprise- Daughtry

Love?- Nothing More

The Times They are a Changin- Blackmore’s Night

Lost in Despair- Ensiferum

O Come, O Come Emmanuel- Pentatonix

Fuck Away the Pain- Divide the Day

Take to the Sky- Van Canto

Pressure- Paramore

My music is sort of all over the place, but this is just a taste of what I have! I think I’ll tag...

@princessbatteringram, @effelants, @weirdpine, @thejetblackcrow, @keeperlefae, @firjii, @machatnoir, @valkyrieraisingcain, @softalistair, and @inquisitorsmabari

Feel free to do this if I didn’t tag you!

[randomlygeneratedstring]

33-39-44 for the noisy ask, please? :)

Thank you for the ask!

33: What words make me feel the best about myself?

Hm... I’d say anything that fights my impostor syndrome. I feel better when my work is recognized. It does not have to be anything work-related, even simple saying “the lunch you have cooked was tasty” will make me feel better. 

I’ll have to work on the “best” part though :)

39:  My favorite ice cream flavor

Vanilla! 

44:  A random fact about anything.

There is a human gene mutation that effects the time of sleep the person needs to feel rested -- those with this mutation need only 3 hours of sleep. 

More asks here