#tag this as a ship and i will hunt you for sport <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magic-is-something-we-create · 3 months

Text

Writeblr Re(rere)intro that's a year late!

Hi! I'm Pax, and I write Big Books that keep getting darker and darker in subject matter 🎉🎉

Basics about me:

he/him or they/them, Mid 20s

Favorite genres: Fantasy, SciFi, Horror, Mystery

Favorite authors: N. K. Jemisin, Tamsyn Muir, Brandon Sanderson, Pierce Brown, Samantha Shannon

Other things I do: Digital art (including commissions!), Twitch streams (usually art or writing sprints, occasionally video games), digital art assets and fonts (PWYW on Ko-Fi!)

Basics about my WIPs:

THE MILLENNIUM SAGA

High fantasy/Steampunk epic, 8 books planned. Book one: Firebreathers (160k words; ~700 pages) Book two: Echoseers (148k words; ~600 pages) Book three: Goddess-Touched (15k as of posting; 3rd attempt at drafting) First person, Multi POV What starts as a simple rebellion against their local Citylord becomes a flight - and fight - for their lives, as Ember Timber, their family, and their newfound friends are forced to flee overseas from the vengeful general who will stop at nothing to earn her Eternal King's favor, and will in fact relish hunting her own son and grandchildren for sport. But along the way, the crew learns that the Eternal King's immortality was not granted in return for his success as the Chosen One long ago, as they have always been told - and the sacrifice for such a thing is not only paid dearly in blood, but on its way to being repeated.

WHISPERS

Dark fantasy Noir. Currently with beta readers. 172k words; ~750 pages. First person, Dual POV. Set in the same world as Millennium Saga, ~5 years after the series concludes. Marika Swiftfoot owes her life to the Shadow of Fowden, the sorceress leader of a terroristic crime syndicate based in the north pole. When the man she once loved finally comes to collect on that life debt ten years later, she plans to kill him the moment it's safe. Too soon, after all, and everyone else she's ever loved will join him beyond the Veil. But hate isn't the only feeling that lingers between them, and when they're offered another way out of their debts, the lives of a few innocents looks like a bargain compared to the life of cruelty ahead of them. Lorelei has been hunting the Shadow for twenty years, and looking for the sister who disappeared for thirty. And here, names are legacies: she wants to earn Hopebringer before her legs give out for good, to erase the stain her father's name has left with Vowbreaker. And for that, she sees one way forward: she must never break her vows, no matter how small. The Shadow must die, and the Whispers with her. Her sister must be found, even if all that's left to find is a story. She must find answers for every case she takes on, even if she doesn't know so much as the name of the man who's gone missing.

THE LOST

Space opera webcomic. First scene fully illustrated; will release once the first chapter is complete, a week after Patrons receive the final scene. In the far reaches of space, the term "Media Empire" is quite literal; the Watchers have extended their influence throughout their galaxy filament with the help of their beloved Coliseum, and the Champion therein. After all, having a shapeshifter capable of replicating anything leads to some gruesome, spectacular fights, made all the more heartrending when they are the last of their kind, trapped in the ship molded from their kin's corpse. But while the Watchers have total control over what happens in the pit, they cannot predict the audience. And they certainly cannot predict the malfunctioning psychic implant of an assassin in the front row, and the loss of both opponents and a long-time prisoner of war to the escape.

I also post art of all of these semi-regularly, including in-progress stuff, as well as excerpts and rambling braindumps!! I'm also a huge worldbuilding nerd, so if you ever want to learn more about the worlds I'm writing, don't be afraid to ask!! I love talking about them :D

Boosts are appreciated <3 tell me about your own WIPs in the tags/replies/wherever!! I love learning about what people are working on!

#writeblr intro #aboutthewarlord #writeblr #writblr #wip intro #??? idk how else to tag this

77 notes · View notes

everyangel · 6 months

Text

tagged by the sweet georgie @paulmezcal 😚

1. How many works do you have on AO3? fifteen!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? oh jesus. why would you ask me that. 537,342.

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've written for Formula 1 RPF, Justified and The Vampire Diaries in the past but the at the moment I'm solely writing for Top Gun <3

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

like, what up, I got a big cock the Sereshaw fic that started it all

imagine being loved by me my current magnum opus

good wood this fic still feels like a fever dream

get into it (yuh) the fic that hunted me for sport the entire time I was writing IBLBM and came out exactly how I wanted it to

if the end of the world gets me close to you (well baby I'm finished) my unfinished Bonnie/Damon/Enzo fic 😔

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I read and covet every comment I receive, but I don't respond purely because the number got a little overwhelming and now I don't want to start/show favouritism rip

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I guess because of where I've left it, that would be my fic beyond reason, without a doubt

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? that's gonna be the fic I'm currently writing/editing if I ever get it published! so watch this space <3

8. Do you get hate on fics? thankfully no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? you could say that! anything that tickles my fancy...

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? no, I don't generally enjoy crossovers

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? yes <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I was saying to Notch just the other day that for me co-writing a fic would be speedrunning the end of a friendship lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? "all time" is a huge label... I adore Jake/Bradley with my whole heart but I also love Will/Hannibal and Sid/Geno lol

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

16. What are your writing strengths? god this is such a hard question... I tend to be pretty confident about my dialogue and characterisation? I also work hard to make the pacing of a fic feel good...

17. What are your writing weaknesses? absolutely incapable of writing something short once it grows plot on me </3

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm going to do it a tiny bit in Bloodsport, but mostly I tend to avoid it because I worry about the translation not being accurate!

19. First fandom you wrote for? I think it was technically hockey RPF? but the fics are deleted now lol

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? it's going to sound cheesy but genuinely every fic I've ever written is a favourite of mine in its own way! I wouldn't publish anything that I didn't completely love.

tag @tarzandavis @gothampot and anyone else who wants to do this!

#Teagan answers #tag games #writing #that word count... christ

9 notes · View notes

caitylove · 8 months

Text

15 questions, 15 mutuals

I was tagged by both @madamairlock and @holy-ships-x-red-lips so I guess I should do this.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Kind of? My mom sort of named me after one of her best friends mother, but chose the Irish version of the name instead. My middle name I am not 100% sure. She once made the joke that she chose my middle name because of Princess Leia, but I am like 90% sure she was joking. But my mom is a big enough scifi nerd that I can't be certain.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Last Friday watching the Era's Tour Movie during Marjorie.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope! No plans to either.

4. What sports do you play/have played?

Is Speech and Debate in High School considered a sport?

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Never. :)

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Probably their smile or hair?

7. What’s your eye color?

I'm a brown eyed gal.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I definitely prefer happy endings.

9. Any talents?

I can sorta act? And sorta write. Oh! And I can untie any knot.

10. Where were you born?

Pittsburgh, PA

11. What are your hobbies?

Sooooo. I like to read and write, but I also play video games (though I've pulled back from gaming a lot for mental health reasons). I also LARP occasionally with friends and go Ghost Hunting in haunted places.

12. Do you have any pets?

I have two cats: Merry and Pippin

13. How tall are you?

5'7

14. Favorite subject in school?

I honestly loved English when I was young. In college, most of my psych classes were my favorites.

15. Dream job?

Errrrr is it awful to say my dream job is to be ridiculously wealthy so all I have to do for work is just volunteer at places and not worry about working?

15 tags: I probably won't manage 15 who haven't already been tagged before but I'll try... @telemiel, @longlivequeenvic, @leoisanaries, @themostpowerfulmagicofall, @onenerdyheart, @hummingbirdswords, @maryliciousgirl, @ryuhoshi

#tag game #tags

8 notes · View notes

kdramamilfs · 11 months

Text

Rules: share some unpopular opinions about 5 different fandoms of your choosing.

tagged by @mistyquigly ty <3

tagging @puntless @wearetheunholyfamily @dykerikki @stoppressuringme if you want to fsdjfdsf

ok please don't hunt me for sport beloved mutuals and followers but here goes

yellowjackets i don't feel like explaining myself here but just know that i think jeff sucks, i didn't like the wilderness baby storyline at all and misty is NOT a sociopath -

the expanse sorry but i could never get behind the 'polyam belter fam' dynamic. compared to drummer's relationship with naomi that was just so boring to me, even if i was very excited to see drummer kiss a woman - that shouldve been naomi !! maybe it's the fact that all that was established off screen between seasons but i did not care for these people and i wanted drummer to keep being miserably in love with naomi instead (i mean she canonically was but still.) until naomi inevitably wouldve come to her senses and dropped james like a hot potato <3 also drummer is simply a lesbian. to me -

line of duty/flemson ok don't kill me for this but kate objectively sucks a bit. she gives me lowkey homophobic vibes (the hair comment....) and the way she treats other people and especially jo at the end of s6 just didnt sit right with me? as much as i LOVE flemson as a ship i think i might just like the fanon version of kate sjkdfhsfjhsf -

killjoys dutch/delle seyah is a way more interesting pairing to me than aneela/delle seyah OOP -

lucifer yes maze ending up with a woman was great but it should've been LINDA. maze/eve didn't do it for me at all like it was all too fast and too sweet and therefore so boring......

#tag game #uh oh!#the yj ones are a no brainer for most of my mutuals but some of the others.................. scared.

12 notes · View notes

eruden-writes · 2 years

Text

The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 14 (Yautja x Human)

☆ ☆ ☆

Summary: The night her abductors die, Rayelle finds herself running for her life. She doesn’t know where she is, what is following her, where to go. All she knows is she’s not on Earth any longer and the thing chasing her has the capacity to kill.

Tai'dqei never anticipated finding a human when he took the job of tracking and subduing a small contingent of smugglers. It was only when the human attacked and fled fled, Tai'dqei - hopped up on the euphoria of a successful hunt - gave chase, instinct burning at his center.

Will sense return to Tai'dqei before he catches Rayelle? Or will Rayelle be subjected to the yautja’s natural inclinations?

And what happens afterwards?

☆ ☆ ☆

If you like what I create, please consider:

✨ patreon | ✨ ko-fi

Comments, tags and reblogs are real motivators for me, too!

☆ ☆ ☆

CHAPTER CW: Kinda-Sorta Dubcon, Explicit Sex Scene

Tag list: @ajarofpickledtears, @boogeysmoth

☆ ☆ ☆

Rayelle gasped, sitting straighter though the action pushed her body against his. Each click was like a nail toying down her spine while the growl warbled through her lower stomach, sending heat along her limbs. Her fingers splayed out, feeling the heat of his thigh under her palms, before curling again, dragging along the netting.

It was his smug chuff of a chuckle that piqued Rayelle's defiance. He was taunting her, knowing how he affected her. But, knowing how Tai'dqei struggled against instinct around her, two could play that game.

"Sure, let's talk about it," she hissed, arching her back and reaching into the space between herself and Tai'dqei with one hand. Her fingers homed in on his own arousal, grabbing at his girth through the fabric of the loincloth-like bottoms. The grunt Tai'dqei gave as her hand squeezed at his erection was gratifying to Rayelle's ears. "Like how you've been sporting a huge boner since I sat down."

He had miscalculated terribly, he realized. Although, there really hadn't been any determinations of anything. Just his agitation wanting recompense and his desire to hear those little gasps getting the better of him. And she had responded to his challenge.

Tai'dqei only had himself to blame for his weakness.

He couldn't muster up any regret, though. Not with Rayelle's hand on his cock, kneading slowly along the underside with her thumb, exploring his length and ridges and lip of his head.

"What about my dick do you want to discuss?" Tai'dqei shot back, an amused gnarl to his voice. With something new to hold his attention, he absentmindedly put the ship on auto-pilot and initiated cloaking. Considering how long ago the last enemy had accosted them, Tai'dqei doubted another assault would come soon. They needed time to regroup and strategize, since the yautja was not going to easily hand over Rayelle.

Her hand on him paused, her pinked cheeks darkening as a frown twisted at her lips. "That's not what I said."

"More or less, though. Isn't it?" Tai'dqei's hands drifted from the controls to Rayelle's knees. Her free hand, still lingering at his thigh, gripped at his netting as his palms skirted up her legs. That sweet burn of excitement was beginning, sinking into his hands and into his lungs and dancing down the length of his body. Wordlessly, Rayelle tilted her knees wider the higher up his touch went.

"If we're talking about arousal, that means my dick getting hard," he said, his hips rolling minutely against her hand. Instinctively, Rayelle squeezed as he did so. His cock flexed against her fingers. A small delicious sound left her as his claws skimmed over where her thighs met her torso. His voice dipped lower, more gravelly, as his finger grazed over the fabric just over her slit, a moist warmth already radiating. "And your pussy getting wet."

Once more, Rayelle felt she couldn't breathe. The air around them both flickered with excited heat. And somehow, that made the sharp edge of fear tilt into her thoughts. "S-shouldn't you focus on piloting the ship?"

"We're on auto and cloaked." Tai'dqei hadn't caught the uncertainty sifting into Rayelle's voice. His hips rolled against her hand again, the friction stoking fhe heat in his core. Absently, Rayelle's hand moved again, fingers curling tight around his girth and the layer of fabric as she pumped up and down his length.

Tingles coursed up her arm. She didn't want this, but she didn't not want it either. It was annoying and bewildering, as the burning hot sensations knifed through her. Her stomach spun with both excitement and shame and disgust.

Tai'dqei couldn't have been more unaware. The scent of Rayelle layered over him, lighting his brain aflame. He wanted to coax every little drop of pleasure from her, until she was a quivering mess and begging for him.

One of Tai'dqei's hands drifted further upward, stroking over the curves of her hip, feeling the softness of her stomach and breasts through the silky fabrics. Even the curviest of yautja didn't have this sort of delicate pliability. Rayelle gave little gasps, back arching under his caresses. Burning intensity flared through him, the desire to touch her, to actually feel her skin-to-skin, clawing through his core.

The warmth of his hands on her made Rayelle's brain swirl with conflicting thoughts and feelings. She wanted to give in, to melt to his touch, to feel something other than conflict and anger and sadness. That part of her had both her hands behind her now, one atop the other, squeezing as much around Tai'dqei's impossibly hot member as they could. Matching the rhythmic rolls of his hips as he sought the friction, as well.

At the same time, she didn't want any of it. The urge to jerk away, to run, to hide and forget any of this was happening swelled in her head. It filled in the empty spaces between her hormonal haze with cold apprehension.

As Tai'dqei began undoing the safety harness, Rayelle's heart jerked. Mustering up as much petulance as she could, masking the turmoil within, she reminded him, "I thought I had to stay buckled for my safety."

"It's safe enough for the moment." As he unclasped the last fastener, the belts reeled back into the seat with a wild zipping hiss. A lump formed in Rayelle's throat, her breaths becoming short and hitched.

Inadvertently, her grasp tightened on his cock. The thick rod flexed at the sudden pressure, making Tai'dqei's hips jerk hard as he gave a low, guttural groan. He curled over her, excited breaths making his chest rise and fall, making Rayelle shift with his breathing.

One hand had fallen to Rayelles breast, his thumb toying with her hard nipple and his fingers squishing her tit through the fabric of her dress. An appreciative clicking left Tai'dqei, as he continued to knead her breast, first one then the other. A keening left her, her back arching as she writhed under vibrations and his groping hand.

His other hand hiked her dress's hem up, over her hips, his clawed fingers sliding easily under the waistband of her leggings.Without thinking, her feet came up onto the seat, bracketing his legs and toes nudging under the crook of his knees to help keep her stabilized.

Rayelle's breath caught in her throat, her attention tilting to his hand. That cold apprehension clawed into place, against the sensual heat licking over her body.

Constant worries and concerns had tired her, making her resolve buckle. If Tai'dqei wanted to touch her, wanted gratification, fine. Let him have it. Maybe once it was over, the conflicting awkward heat would finally bleed away.

The smallest movements, the tiniest sounds, the littlest movements from Rayelle sent heat and pressure pounding through Tai'dqei's body. The end in sight of a drawn-out, repeatedly triggered mating instinct coating his thoughts.

There was a brief, almost frantic, moment where Tai'dqei abandoned all his caresses. Lifting her up to reach under her, releasing the clasps on his protective gear and pull the belted fabric free. Released from its confines, his dick stood tall, demanding attention while Tai'dqei adjusted how Rayelle sat on him.

When he set her back down, he set her higher on his lap, her feet braced on his outer thighs and his cock sprung between her thighs. Rayelle stared down at the cock, the head spear-shaped and the shaft ridged, from what she could see. It looked so big, the heat so close, it made her insides pulse. Her thighs clamped around it, eliciting a delightful hiss from the yautja as her soft flesh melded around his hot hard cock.

But Tai'dqei forced her knees apart again, making a searing pleasure shoot down her spine. He yanked her leggings down, baring her.

"I-I thought you wanted to talk," gasped Rayelle, her brain barely functioning enough to piece together the teasing sentence. Under the taunt, however, there was a small edge of discontent. A small hope he'd hear it. But maybe that was her own imagination. Maybe she was hearing things that weren't there.

"You want to hear me talk about your cunt?" The scent of her arousal dizzied his senses, the sight of her slickened folds teasing his anticipation. A louder excited snarl through his chest, his hips bucking, wanting to land his cock in that soft, wet paradise, but refusing himself for now.

"Want to hear how I can't wait to bury myself in you?"

Between his words and growl sluicing through his chest, hot prickles of ecstasy jolted down her spine. A tremble worked its way down her body, her abdomen clenching hard. She barely had a chance to understand what was happening when his hand landed on her exposed pussy.

"How I want to feel your soft heat pulse around my cock?"

Careful with his claws, Tai'dqei's fore- and ring-finger parted her entry wide, the digits sinking into her soft flesh there. His thumb stroked at her swollen clit, making tremors jolt through her, as his middle finger carefully delved inside her. Electric heat pierced through her, her back arching and her hands grabbing at his arms.

She was surprised at how deft his fingers were and how thick just one felt inside her. Not to mention how well he angled his nails. Though, the occasional graze of a sharp pinprick inside her sent searing delight through her, making her core clench excitedly.

"Feel you clench and writhe as I drill into you?"

Tai'dqei's other hand curled around her throat, not hard enough to choke but enough to keep her in place as his finger slowly slid deeper and deeper into her. The gesture simultaneously sent a hot-cold shot of pleasure and uncertainty through her. A heavy swallow showed he didn't constrain her at all, merely held her in place. Chasing the pleasure, her body rocked against his lower hand, her sounds becoming louder and obscenely breathy.

"Making you come, over and over, until you're pleading for my seed?"

His cock still stood erect between her thighs, flexing and bobbling and oozing with precum. Prompted by carnal whims, Rayelle reached down to stroke it. An almost purring delight reverberated from Tai'dqei, his member flexing to her touch. She couldn't keep a steady pace with her hand, as he worked his finger in and out of her, sending fire through her veins and her inner walls clenching desperately around him.

"Or should I talk about how I'm going to fill you up, cock and cum, until you can't take any more?"

She wasn't sure if it was his words, the image he painted, the way his hands moved on her, or just everything. The pressure spiked inside her, heat clawing at her bones. A sobbed cry escaped her as her body jerked hard, a wave of hot pleasure and a chilly pain crashed over her and seared her nerves. Her hands found the wrist of Tai'dqei's hand at her throat, her fingers curling tight around it and nails biting into his skin as she spasmed.

The way her body tensed and trembled sent a spark through Tai'dqei. Heat sliced down his body, making his cock jump against the plush softness of her thighs. His hips bucked, following the tempo of her thrashing, as she came around his finger. His thumb pressed tight against her clit, rubbing the tiniest of circles along the bundle of nerves.

When Rayelle finally fell slack in his arms, Tai'dqei decided to give her a moment to recuperate before they continued. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths and her body was wracked by the occasional tremble. But it was nothing out of the ordinary for a well-fucked partner.

Until he saw her tears hadn't stemmed. Pleasuring someone until the overwhelming delight brought tears to their eyes wasn't abnormal, in his experience. But once the climax ebbed, so did the tears. Even her throat continued to flex under his palm, as if fighting back louder sobs.

Slowly, his hand released Rayelle's throat and he eased his finger from her still fluttering folds. His question was soft and careful, hesitant to hear the answer, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she warbled, her forced words just as shaky as her trembling body.

Suspicious of her tone, Tai'dqei pressed further with a softer voice, "Are you sure?"

There was a breath of silence. Rayelle debated how to answer him, but her brain was a flurry of aggravating thoughts and perplexities. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she simply asked, "Can I pull my leggings on now?"

Rayelle's dismal tone was the worst sort of knife to Tai'dqei's gut. He gave an absent nod and she slid from his lap to pull up her leggings. He quickly corrected his own coverings, unable to look at Rayelle. Heavy dread and guilt hardened in his stomach.

It took him a moment to pull together the words, but Tai'dqei soon asked, "Did I misunderstand again?"

"No... maybe. I didn't exactly say yes or no, but I enjoyed it. I just... I also didn't enjoy it." The more Rayelle explained, the more the tears swelled in her eyes. She pressed her face into her hands as she started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure I even understand myself right now."

Tai'dqei fell quiet once more, watching how Rayelle's shoulders scrunched up toward her ears. His gaze fell to his hands in his lap. Flexing his hands, he felt that was all he could really do without making the situation worse. He felt frozen to his chair, unable to move lest he upset Rayelle further.

His thoughts took form, before he could adjust his words, "What am I supposed to do?"

Had he really asked that? It took Rayelle a moment to parse his words. It sounded so much, too much, like sexual partners of the past. Those who were upset she didn't want to continue. Those who blamed her 'teasing' nature for their own erections and demanded gratification.

It wasn't even like she didn't want to make Tai'dqei come, either! She did... but, well... she also didn't. Thinking about it made her head throb. So she reverted to the path of least resistance.

When she lowered her hands and turned her eyes to him, his own gaze flickered to her face. His stomach fell further at her expression. Resignation, disappointment, sadness. It all crumpled her features. "I guess I could finish you with my mouth or something. If you really-"

"That's not what I meant," he sharply interrupted her, a little offended she'd think that's what he meant. He risked shifting in the chair, sitting straighter and leaning toward Rayelle. "What should I do to help you?"

"I-" Rayelle was so close to saying she didn't know what he could do to help her. What could anyone do? Her reaction was a broken one. Both enjoying and not enjoying what had happened. Being conflicted about something she had, essentially, guided.

But it was the truth and the confusing aches she felt turned toward creature comforts she recognized.

"Do you have, like, a couch? Somewhere comfortable to sit." Rayelle almost surprised herself when she answered him. In the chaos of her current life, she had forgotten these familiarities even existed. She turned her eyes to Tai'dqei, feeling a little more comfortable even though she still sounded tired and almost expecting denial, "And a way to watch shows or something?"

Happy for the guidance, Tai'dqei motioned for Rayelle to give him space as he stood. "Follow me."

She was hesitant, given everything that had happened, but she eventually fell in step behind Tai'dqei. He led her back to the mess, pausing to indicate a broad space of emptiness. She hadn't paid it much mind, in all honesty. But now, Tai'dqei motioned to the ceiling, where a then rectangle could be seen.

"Usually, I have a screen on display - which slides down from the ceiling - and comfortable seating arranged here," he explained, hoping to cut off any later suspicions when he told Rayelle her actual options. "My prior passenger not only damaged my safety belts, but also did irreparable damage to a settee and some more comfortable chairs here."

"Oh," she mumbled, frowning a little at the inconvenience. All she really wanted was to curl up on a couch, put on some mind numbing television, and bask in some characters' asinine drama, instead of her own.

"You're free to bring out blankets and pillows, to watch here. But there is one other option." He didn't really like the thought of her laying on the floor. Especially if they got blindsided by an enemy. For now, while in the clear and with her so obviously upset, Tai'dqei had to force himself to allow it as an option.

Without looking at her, mentally preparing for her distrust again, Tai'dqei strode away. He moved down the hall, back toward his quarters.

Rayelle's stomach dropped at that realization. Her other option was in his room? Residual heat from their recent escapade clawed across her cheeks. She dawdled by Tai'dqei's open door, not looking into his room as she struggled with her own inner debate.

Maybe, she should just choose the floor in the mess. Rayelle pressed her lips together, not really pleased with that idea. Really, watching television in a bedroom sounded much more cozy, much more welcome, than the hard floor.

Finally, she peeked into his room.

---

If you like what I create, please consider:

✨ patreon | ✨ ko-fi

You can get early chapter access on Patreon, btw!

Comments, tags and reblogs are real motivators for me, too!

78 notes · View notes

antigonenikk · 15 days

Text

do i dare//disturb the universe?

chapter 1/2/3/4

pairing: Eugene Sledge/John “Bucky” Egan

tags: crossover, post-war AU

summary: Eugene Sledge and John Egan are both adrift in the wake of the War. They find each other in a small bar in a small corner of Chinatown. And the rest, as they say, is history.

(tw: brief attempted SA)

“At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;

Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,

But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,

Where past and future are gathered.”

…

“Here is a place of disaffection

Time before and time after

In a dim light”

-TS Eliot, Burnt Norton

——————————————————————

All night he thinks about it. John’s smile. He lies in bed thumbing through Four Quartets, trying to concentrate on the page. He can’t for the life of him get past the line, “At the still point of the turning world.” He feels stupid. Around one in the morning he stops thinking at all. Stares at a crack in the wall.

It feels alien to be anything resembling happy. But he is. He feels less lonely, which makes absolutely no sense. He doesn’t know anything about John. He knows he was an officer. He knows he likes jazz. He knows he likes to hear himself talk. The type of information you learn about someone over a dinner party. Not anything you could base a real connection off of. Not like he had with Merriell.

Except that’s not true. He hadn’t really known Merriell any better than he knows John now. Loving someone and knowing them are two very different things. Try as he might never could break through. Walls on top of walls. Every time he got close he was shut out into the cold, Snafu’s mask of cold cruelty coming back with vengeance.

This feels different. John is nothing like Merriell. John’s not like anyone he’s ever met. He can’t figure out why that is. Maybe it’s the way he seems a bit too large for life. Always looking like he’s trying to crawl out of his own skin. Like he might shoot up ten feet tall and swallow up the whole room. Trying to touch something outside of himself that’s real. Something that reminds him he, himself, is real. Eugene understands the feeling. Seeing it reflected back on the face of another patches over that deep dark hole in his chest that started expanding ever since he first fired his first 60mm mortar.

I’m projecting, he thinks. But the feeling persists. He hears a baby cry next door and falls asleep with a pillow crushing his head into the mattress. He thinks about John’s smile and makes everything else go away.

It takes two weeks for them to meet again.

Eugene spends the days in between loitering around Central Park. He gets up every morning, with a birding manual he picked up at the library and notes every new species he finds in his small moleskin notebook. At first it isn’t about avoidance. Not for that first day at least.

On the first day he writes names down. Mourning Dove. Song Sparrow. Northern Cardinal. Blackpoll Warbler. The thought that he used to hunt these types of creatures for sport fills him with unease, a probing guilt he can’t shake even as their beauty overwhelms him. He thinks again of Four Quartets.

“Here is a place of disaffection.”

He thinks of finding an empty tent, his book of poetry left behind. Sid had thrown it away. Thrown it all away. He remembers how Sid’s friend had ribbed him for carrying a Bible. He remembers asking the man, Lucky maybe, what he believed in.

“I believe in ammunition.”

Two and a half years later the words still stick with him. Lucky, Leckie, had been shipped off at Pelelieu. Was home now, last he heard from Sid. Probably didn’t remember Eugene at all. And yet the words stuck with him through two campaigns, through three countries. Two continents. The truth of them.

Somewhere when the days melted into weeks and he stopped caring about eating with dirty hands. Somewhere around there the law of survival had become his new God. And the law of survival demanded sacrifice at its altar. It demanded violence from its people, it demanded priests of ammunition.

All these beautiful birds, all these fine feathered things. And here he was lumbering amongst them out of sight, a creature of violence. A thing that is tied in horrible knots between two wavering faiths. A thing who hates himself for it.

Here is a place of disaffection. Here.

He has killed birds and now loves them, eats besides a Mourning Dove, tossing it little pieces of sourdough. Thinks. I have loved man and I killed him too. And I enjoyed it.

John flew a plane. That he knows. It’s not the same. Killing from afar and not knowing. Different from watching the life leave another’s eyes. And wanting more. Feeling that deep wrath take hold of you. John, for all his great size and large smile and air of danger is just like the rest of them, the doves that fly about his head heedless to the fact that they are in the company of a hunter. That he could snap their neck in an instant. With complete and utter disregard for their right to life. It’s better for everybody if he stays away. That way he won’t get hurt. Eugene lies down amongst the sound of birdsong, and rustling leaves.

And so; for the next two weeks, he dedicates himself to the careful art of avoidance.

————————————————————

John is admittedly very, very drunk. He didn’t mean to be. It just happened. The night had started at the pictures. But he started to itch. Needed to get out. Halfway through Gene Tierney crying to the ghost of a dead Sea Captain he was legging it to the bar. It had been two weeks since he had seen Eugene. He had tried to find him, but the kid was damned slippery. Like a cat burglar. Turned sideways and just disappeared into the shadows. Couldn’t spot him at Church or at the Grocer’s or even on the block outside their buildings.

As shameful as it was to admit. John didn’t have many people to talk to these days. Not any who would want to talk to him. Gale had promised him. In the Stalag. That he would be worth knowing. That someone would think he was worth knowing, the version of himself he had deteriorated into. But that was a lie. A sick of a lie as any Buck had told him. No one wanted to know the new John. Not even John himself. If he could run out of himself into the street. Find a new face a new set of skin to step into. Someone, anyone else. But he was trapped.

And then came the disgust. Self-pity was the recourse of the cowardly. It wasn’t for soldiers. It wasn’t for men who had led others into battle and survived to tell the tale. His father never acted with self-pity. No, he got up and he shut his trap and he went to work twelve hours a day without a singular complaint. He would feel sick if he could see John now. His father’s cross around his neck burns.

Instead of self-pity John got too drunk and lost his money at dice and took the long way home, down darkened alleys. Hoping for something. Maybe. Hoping for a chance to feel someone else’s skin beneath his own.

And then he heard it. Soft noise, the sound of someone speaking. A southern drawl. He picked up his pace. Something inside him recognized the voice even from blocks away. Little cat burglar wasn’t gonna slip through his fingers this time.

He rounded the corner and had to stop for a second. Eugene was there, pushed up against the wall, broken glass bottle to his neck. His lip was bloody and so was his eye. But he looked completely calm. Soft brown eyes had become a cold, dead black. Their gaze met above the assailant’s head. John could hear the man as if through water, “Fucking faggot—“

And then John was leaping forward. Grabbing the man by the back of his collar and slamming him into the ground. The action came so naturally he barely even registered he was doing it at all. He looked up, trying to assess the damage. To see how bad Eugene was hurt. But Gene wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was stepping forward, slowly. And leaning down into the shitty little punk’s face. And then he was hitting him. With those cold dead eyes not looking at anything not wanting anything in particular. Like a walking ghost he hit the man without feeling, again and again. Until a tooth came loose and hit Eugene in the face. And then John was grabbing him instead, holding his bony spine steady against his chest, wrapping his arms around his stomach as Eugene struggled to get free. Shouting out in rage, battling against him. If John were any shorter, he would have been forced to let go. Instead he held on for dear life. He held on as the robber ran out of the alleyway. As Eugene finally realized where he was and went limp. As he collapsed and took John with him. As John sat there in complete darkness, until he felt brave enough to raise a hand and drag it through Eugene’s hair, like he might have for his little sister.

Like a damn bursting Eugene began to cry. John let him have his privacy. Was going to. But then Eugene grabbed onto him. And it had been so long since anyone wanted to hold him, since a person had touched him with anything but violence in mind, that he found himself grabbing back. Pulling Eugene into his lap and running his hand again through dark red hair.

He didn’t have anything to say. He was never good at comforting people. His mother would say it was one of his worst habits. Instead of speaking they sat there and he imagined the swing outside his childhood home to pass the time.

How he would sit there waiting for his father every day after work. Time passed slow back then. There was the worry of course that if John didn’t wait then his dad wouldn’t come home at all. But it was an easy worry. The worry any child might have. And for a while there his dad did come home every day. And the relief of it all, of not being left behind, left him smiling for hours. The two of them would swing back and forth, back and forth, watching the cows in the distance. Not speaking.

Time passed slow then. But now everything seemed to last forever. The good and the bad.

Eugene pulled away from him, hand over his face. John recognized the emotion. The shame over crying in front of a stranger was hitting him fast. He didn’t want to see Gene ashamed. Drunk and dizzy and quick he stood up and grabbed Gene with him.

“Listen, kid. I ain’t gonna make it home alone. Probably fuckin’ brain myself. Be obliged if you could, you know, help a fella out.”

Eugene dragged a bloody hand across his nose and eyes and then grew a bit colder again. Wasn’t a cruel cold feeling though. Not like before. More like the feeling of cool water from Lake Erie. Soothing. Sure of itself. Still water that you could wade in up to your waist without fear of being dragged into a riptide. Lake Erie was always John’s favorite.

“Alright.”

————————————————————

He didn’t know how he did it. But he’d got Eugene back up to his apartment. Drunken giddiness was coursing through him. He could see the kid sat on the rotting wood, next to John’s camping cot and pile of blankets, flipping through his copy of Maltese Falcon. John grabbed a passably clean glass and filled it with water.

He looked at home. If you could call a place like this a home. A cave seemed more accurate.

“You like detective stories?”

John sat the glass in front of him. Sat himself crisscross so they could really get a look at each other. Gene’s hands were bruising but it didn’t seem to bother him. His eye was swelling.

“What can I say? I’m a man of taste.”

After a silence he forced himself not to break Eugene answered.

“Thank you. I…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t seem like he had anything to be sorry for. Not really.

“Don’t be. No harm in fighting back when someone’s robbing you—“

“He wasn’t—“

“Wasn’t what?”

Eugene looked frustrated.

“He wasn’t robbing me.”

It took a second, watching the blush rise up on Eugene’s neck, to realize what he meant. Oh. Oh shit. He had thought or hoped maybe, that they were of the same sort. But not in any real way. His type were few and far between. And he was pretty shit at finding them. And none of them had ever…and then he realized what Eugene was implying.

“He. Was he hurting you?”

————————————————————

Eugene felt small, sitting on the floor, worn paperback in his hands. John was pacing, reeking of whiskey and lavender scented aftershave and cement. He had just wanted to go to a place where he could….just without worrying about being judged for it. He liked going to the queer bars. It was one of the few times he felt truly honest and at home inside his own skin. He’d gone outside for a smoke, trying to avoid this ginger asshole who kept trying to chat him up. Except that hadn’t worked out very well. Instead he ended up pinned to the wall by that same prick, screaming in his face when he wouldn’t bend over and give in like he wanted him to. He was a goddamn Marine. He wasn’t gonna let himself go down without a fight. He would have had the guy too. He knows he would have. Could have killed him if John hadn’t turned up.

John runs his hand through his hair and sits down again across from him. He grabs Eugene’s wrist, softly. It reminds him of being back in between those large wooden church doors. The touch this time is so soft he doesn’t even think to flinch.

“Are you okay?”

The fear. Being alone in an apartment with someone so much better than you in every conceivable way. Someone so beautiful. Someone you could tell should hate you for your very nature. John was a ladies man. Even if they had maybe sort of flirted one time a few weeks ago. Or he looked like one. But he didn’t seem disgusted with Eugene. He held his wrist gently. Wasn’t afraid to touch him.

“You…I don’t.”

It was hard to put into words. John shuffled closer, put his fingers to Eugene’s eye. All the air in his chest choked out. He couldn’t breathe. That line from Four Quartets. At the center point of the turning world.

“I should get you ice but I don’t have any.”

“You’re not disgusted by me?”

Eugene placed his hand above John’s wrist, lightly. He couldn’t help himself. Now they were connected. Wrist to eye to wrist and back again. Knees touching.

“It would be pretty hard to be disgusted by you when I’m the same way.”

Men like John… they weren’t like him. He didn’t get to be lucky like this.

“I’m okay.”

John didn’t believe him. That was obvious. He fussed over him the rest of the night like a mother hen. Tucked extra blankets around him and kept forcing glasses of tepid water in his hands. Cleaned off his split lip with a damp rag. Eugene had to physically hold himself back at that. Just because they were both homosexual didn’t mean John would want someone like him, anyways. He didn’t try to but he ended up falling asleep on John’s shoulder. Listening to the man read from the Maltese Falcon.

“He said: "I'm going to send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means you'll be out again in twenty years. You're an angel. I'll wait for you." He cleared his throat. "If they hang you I'll always remember you….”

Words like ammunition and survival seemed so far away when you were warm, and comfortable, and you could feel another person’s stubble on your cheek scratching, the ever lively traffic outside a calming white noise.

#unhinged crossover pairing that i will be writing 100k of believe you me #this chapter im unhappy with but i need to get the ball rolling so we can progress to the romance #crossover #the pacific #masters of the air #mota #john egan #john bucky egan #fanfiction #eugene sledge #i continue to use too many ts eliot references whatever ok its whatever #post canon au #my continual refusal to read john egans wikipedia page. im creating the narrafive baby. and the narrative is he has daddy issues

3 notes · View notes

space-writes · 11 months

Text

OC interview tag

tagged this time by @ahordeofwasps, thank you! (also you can check out my previous interviews with Sorrow, Vren, and Lucian)

This time it’s Aliyne’s turn. She doesn’t like talking about herself any more than Vren does, but that’s tough luck because it’s my brain she’s living in rent free. I’m going to answer this as she is at the start of the books - let’s go!

Are you named after anyone?

Not that I know of. Then again, I never really got much of a chance to ask.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Are you going to make me be honest about this? Ugh, fine — a few days ago, when I had to choose, again, between a roof and a meal. Chose the meal, obviously, and I’ve got some work now, which provides a roof, so that’s neat for the next few weeks anyway.

3. Do you have kids?

Gods no.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

No, that would be such a childish thing to do, people never take you seriously if you use sarcasm.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

What they’re carrying. Weapons, coin pouch, clothing, stuff like that. How guarded they about it all. How aware they are of their belongings. Most people, turns out, don’t pay nearly enough attention.

Look, I’m trying to notice things like how nice their hair is or whatever instead, but it’s just. Instinct. Alright?

6. What's your eye color?

Dark brown.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I don’t necessarily agree with fun and happy endings, but they’re nice. Least the fictional characters get to have a good time.

8. Any special talents?

…picking pockets. Also climbing things, and getting away from people.

9. Where were you born?

Maziz Province, in Jamarda. That’s out in eastern Mohaade, near the Border Mountains of the Wilds.

10. What are your hobbies?

Um. Knife throwing, I guess? Does climbing count as a hobby? I like getting up someplace high, so I can see everything.

11. Have you any pets?

Nah, I haven’t really been in a place to look after anything other than myself. I used to feed the stray cats in Zhirasea sometimes, but Vren kept telling me not to bother because a) they can hunt for themselves if they’re so hungry, and b) I’m cat enough, apparently. But he’s an ass, so one day I’m going to get a cat just to spite him.

Not that he even remembers I’m alive.

…holy shit I’m going to name it after him. That would piss him off so bad. Hah! Get cat-named, idiot. Serves you right.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

No official sports, but we played at chase and catch in Jamarda, and in Zhirasea. Running over the roofs, climbing on people’s balconies, stuff like that. Nearly broke my leg once—got my foot stuck in a stupid railing when I jumped.

You’ve never seen Vren move so fast. Mother hen. I would’ve been fine.

13. How tall are you?

Five foot four, and look, it makes me harder to hit, okay? It makes people underestimate you when you’re the same height as the average fourteen year old, and it makes it easier to get in places you aren’t supposed to be.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Ughhh, leaving. You’d think growing up in a literal crime family means you don’t have to do boring shit like sit in a room and learn how numbers work, but no. I mean, it’s useful, and I guess I should be glad they taught me, because not everyone gets to learn but also. Counter-argument. School is boring as fuck.

15. Dream job?

Wealthy businesswoman. The kind who has a fleet of caravans—or a ship, even—and I just get to sit in my huge house and sign papers and threaten people who try to cross me, and the money just rolls on in.

No-pressure tagging @hallwriteblr @annachronisms @ivorygarcia and @saltwaterbells (and anyone else who wants to do it, feel free to tag me!)

#valloroth blogging #writeblr #tag games #oc interview #c: aliyne #love my grumpy girl so much #she's a snarky little shit #which. to be expected given that Vren was her closest family for years #also great timing for me to do this having just finished aliyne's intro post ^_^

11 notes · View notes

mrbexwrites · 7 months

Text

OC 15 Questions

Tagged by @duckingwriting to answer some questions about my OCs.

Gently passing the tag onto: @queen-tashie @kaiafosterwrites @deanwax @writingamongther0ses @tate-lin and anyone else who would like to take up the mantle of the open tag!

(Sorry, this has been sitting my drafts for so long, and then in queue purgatory before it's even seen the light of day!)

I've done a couple of these for characters in Memento Mori, so figured it's time for a shift in focus to Blood Harmony.

Answering for Arnauld Beaufort, Mave's nemesis.

Are you named after anyone?

2. When was the last time you cried?

I haven't cried in a while. The last time would probably have been shedding a single tear over the rubble where I thought Mavis had died. A good opponent is hard to find.

3. Do you have kids?

I have over a thousand demons at my beck and call. They're hard enough to handle; I wouldn't add children to my workload. Unless you count Connor? He's not my biological son, but I look out for him nonetheless. He'd walk into traffic otherwise.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Moi? No. Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, after all.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

How short their lives are. When you live for several centuries, people come and go in the blink of an eye. Although, there are several mortals who have piqued my interest in them over the years. They leave lasting marks...mementos...

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue, like my mother's.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I don't find movies to be particularly scary, being a demon.Happy endings are too contrived. I prefer psychological thrillers myself.

8. Any special talents?

I'm difficult to kill. Just ask Mavis; Hell knows she's tried hard enough.

9. Where were you born?

The province of Alsace in the Holy Roman Empire. Where I was born has been many countries over the years, and it's currently near Strasbourg, France.

10. What are your hobbies?

I've been many things over the centuries; a sell-sword, mercenary, politician, musician, smuggler, pirate...

I enjoy model ship making. I particularly revel in building windjammers and clippers for display in my library.

11. Have you any pets?

Would Mavis count if I compare her to a feral cat who continually tries to hunt me?

12.What sports do you play/have played?

Sword-fighting, jousting for a brief period, general marksmanship... I've tried my hand at badminton, but it's not for me. Any sport that involves a ball, apart from basketball; too undignified. I'm excellent at billiards.

13.How tall are you?

5'11" or thereabouts

13. Favorite subject in school?

I never went to school; my mother paid for private tutors for me. I enjoyed History the most. I've found, that over the centuries, it often repeats itself. Mortals often fail to learn from their mistakes, but I've lived long enough to see the patterns, know what is coming, and can then avoid the worst of the fallout. You just have to look at my portfolio to know just how good I am as a student of history.

14.Dream job?

Benevolent Dictator, which I suppose I already am, as the head of a law firm. I'd just like to expand my reach from the moral realm, in the infernal!

#tag game #blood harmony #Arnauld is french #but I'd let Josh Close play him with a terrible accent in the tv movie in my head

5 notes · View notes

babygirlbdubs · 2 years

Text

since im already seeing twitter people in my followers, here’s a couple reminders specifically applicable to my blog!

1) reblog things!! your likes do nothing. treat them like twitter bookmarks. your likes dont show up on anyone else’s dashes. if you want to share things, reblog them!! as a creator, we need reblogs for our works to be seen! if you enjoyed something, reblog it! and hey, maybe leave a nice comment in the tags!

2) we dont do callouts, discourse, or harassment! if you don’t like something we’ve posted here, dont come into our inbox, just unfollow/block and move on. you curate your experience. if you come into my inbox being hateful it only fuels me. spite is my primary motivator.

3) we post shipping here!! if you don’t want to see it, block the shipping tags (you can see the ones i use in my pinned). i will not stop posting shipping unless a ship breaks a cc’s boundaries. again, you telling me not to (without valid boundary source) will only encourage me <3

4) i swear to GOD if any of you bring up any kind of tumblr posts to a cc, especially mine or my friends, i am hunting you for sport. ccs are welcome to interact at their own risk but if they’re not seeking it out it is NOT your place to show it to them. i WILL bite. (and yes this means that even if i joke about encouraging them to interact, you are not welcome to force that interaction. it’s uncomfortable for everyone.)

5) the block button ain’t personal here. i will block if i dont like content, if i dont like tags, if the vibe is off, whatever. it aint about you generally speaking, its just about curating my experience, and the same should go for you! dont like something? don’t engage. just block and move on. on tumblr, anon hate merely fans the flames and encourages the behavior, so if u dont like it dont engage. period.

ok that’s all!! welcome twitter refugees! behave.

#spooky.thoughts

32 notes · View notes

cljordan-imperium · 1 year

Text

GET TO KNOW MY OC

Today I was tagged by @pluttskutt! Thank you, sweetie <3

Pinterest once again chose, and it's another one of the females!

I'm going to tag.... @shipping-through-eternity @saltysupercomputer @autumnalwalker

Delilah Morgana Pendragon

1. Are you named after anyone? My middle name is in reference to Arthurian legend of Arthur’s sister. My mother loved it since our last name is Pendragon, also from Arthurian legend.

2. When was the last time you cried? Two days ago when I awoke from a dream of Dreya’s death. Again. *wraps her arms around herself as if in a hug*

3. Do you have kids? No, nor do I want any. I don’t want to talk about it.

4. Do you use sarcasm? There are people who don’t? How do they live?

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? Their eyes. You can tell a lot about people by how expressive their eyes are.

6. What's your eye color? Hazel, leaning green

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Disney

8. Any special talents? I’m a trained sniper, and I’m very good at it. I have designed my own weaponry and it is far superior to anything you can buy off the shelf. My company is sought after by governments and covert groups alike. If you can afford me, you know anything I’ve designed is worth the money.

9. Where were you born? Denver, Colorado

10. What are your hobbies? Target shooting, gaming, explosives, weapons design, covert tech design

11. Have you any pets? I’m hoping to be able to bring Dreya’s dog to Imperium. I need to talk to Abriella

12. What sports do you play/have played? Competitive shooting, triathalons

13. How tall are you? 6'

14. Favorite subject in school? Math

15. Dream job? I was doing my dream job before what happened to Dreya. I love designing weaponry and other tech while working with her on artifact hunting. We were a team. Coming up with new tech to help us on our hunts. Specializing and adapting tech to make things we did easier, which meant that it also would work for my clients. It wasn’t a job, it was my passion and my love.

THE IMPERIUM CHRONICLES TAG LIST - @ceph-the-ghost-writer @kjscottwrites @writingpotato07 @saltysupercomputer @careful-pyromancer @late-to-the-fandom @autumnalwalker @perasperaadastrawriting @fearofahumanplanet @jessica-writes22 @dogmomwrites @mjjune @verba-writing @blind-the-winds @shipping-through-eternity @inkspellangel

#get to know oc tag #oc interview #the imperium chronicles #my oc #writeblr #writeblr connect #writeblr community #my writing

10 notes · View notes

saveourskinship · 1 year

Text

15 Questions/15 People

Rules: answer these 15 questions and tag 15 people

Unrules: I don’t actually know 15 people. So I’m not gonna do that. I also might not actually answer the questions but just ramble instead.

Thanks for the tag @akorah I’m procrastinating so this is perfect.

1. Are you named after anyone? Names are so weird, aren’t they? We don’t get to pick them and they just hang around for the entirety of your life and if you decide you want to change it for any reason there is so much PAPERWORK. I am partially named after someone who no longer knows who I am or even who they are half the time. 2. When was the last time you cried? Today because I accidentally created a painting spirit by being too in love with someone and then had to abandon said love to hunt the painting spirit down (it kept putting people into comas). The spirit trapped me and my love in a mirage and tried to burn us alive but my love saved me but he remained stuck inside the mirage for three whole years. We finally reunited at the Festival of Lanterns and it was beautiful. Tears of Themis is wild y’all.

3. Do you have kids? No, I live in a tiny apartment. If I ever own a cottage though, I will buy a couple to eat the brambles around my hedge-witch lawn.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I used sarcasm to type that question. So no, of course not.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? If their eyes match their expression. Followed by where their centre of gravity is.

6. What’s your eye colour? Line 1, Verse 2 of Christmas Day by Dido.

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Is this boiling down to Marlon Wayans versus Damon Wayans Jr? I’ve definitely seen Scary Movie’s more often but have been thinking I should give Happy Endings another go.

8. Any special talents? I can put my leg behind my head and can glide down a flight of stairs absolutely beautifully. Not at the same time though.

9. Where were you born? In a hospital room with ten very disappointed training doctors who all thought I was going to be what they called an ‘abnormal’ birth. They were rather put out I came out ‘normal’. If they’d just waited twenty or so years...

10. What are your hobbies? Writing, reading, board games, video games, tabletop rpgs, assassinations, lying to people on the internet about how dangerous I am.

11. Do you have any pets? There is a cat which resides in my house but I live in fear she will get offended if I call her a pet.

12. What sports do you play/have you played? That is a very long list and I don’t find it terribly fascinating. I would like to invent a sport, but... owning a team is weird, too, isn’t it? Like, owning people who run and jump and get concussions for you? You take their best years and they earn you money? It’s all very crossroads/brimstone vibes, huh. But if I HAD to invent a sport, I think I would combine the Running Man name-tag rip off game with handball except you have to play in bare feet tand the scoring area is covered in acupuncture mats (the goalies are allowed shoes).

13. How tall are you? 1 cat and 78 dice ranging from d4 to d20 in varying sizes. I tried doing dice only but the cat wasn’t having it.

14. Favourite subject in school? This does not specify which school so it’s a toss up between Look After The Penguin Chicks from pirmary and Sex and Sensuality from university.

15. Dream job? The job I have most often in my dreams is being a pirate captain but my boat only sails through wheat fields. The hull (for whatever reason) is made out of sponge cake so stale is has turned rock hard, however whenever I try to sail my ship in water, the sponge cake softens and my ship begins breaking apart.

Tagging @they-call-me-megs

8 notes · View notes