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omg what if georgie barker was pan?? no it'd be so funny because she's a pansexual who doesn't feel ANY fear and she was living with jon, an ace person who experienced EVERY fear, and they were living in the same flat for awhile haha it almost sounds like it would make a good sitcom and it could be called All or hello Jon apologies for the deception but I just wanted to make sure you were reading

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masters degree in moving my legs around under the sheets like a big gay horseshoe crab

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polygon glados :-)

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no denying how repeatedly linked harrow and mercymorn are (tricky & wretched of john to entrust harrow to the person who also had a nun in their equation, and tag ianthe onto someone connected to franticide) but ortus’s declaration towards the end of the book applies more to mercymorn than to harrow — who do we blame when the one we lost is both the victim and the killer? where does that hate go, can we really stomach it? these words a bullet that grazed but ultimately missed harrow, because she could never allow herself to hate gideon again. so she hates the person hating whom is second nature, self blame as familiar as breathing. but mercymorn had resisted leading that emotion to its source, and she lived beside this grief's river mouth for 10k years, and she held that emotion close, but slightly to the side.

mercymorn, shrill, critical, unlikeable pink haired mercymorn rattles my brain because female rage can sometimes work like a bargain. scraps and empties, bruses and falsehoods, anything to placate, to pacify, to pin that rage in place for a little while longer. was there really no other way? was our mission truly worth it? did you love cristabel?

and there was another way, and the mission was not worth it. and god never liked cristabel. the second time she died, mercymorn was there to pick up the pieces, but the first time god left her body and soul alone, bloody and shattered on the cold floor. did that mercymorn, - not mercymorn the first, but the first mercymorn - find cristabel? did she go into that room where he'd left her because she checked for her everywhere? did she go on to die herself for john with ignorance or radical acceptance?

the unloveable mercymorn dooming all the nine planets because she was an atheist in love with a nun; someone who loved god well enough to die for him twice, and did not love mercymorn well enough to live for her once.

and god did not even like her.

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FIVE DAYS LEFT TO SIGN UP FOR ALECTOPAUSE THE NINTH an exquisite corpse collaborative fic!!!

We thus far have 30 signups for 29 chapters, and could use just a few more people, especially those who are interested in pinch hitting or beta reading. 500 word minimum, writing from July 6-Aug 31st, sign-up, prompts, and rules linked in the original post!

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lost in waves

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i do enjoy "living weapon" characters but specifically living weapons who did in fact do absolutely horrific things which at least a part of them enjoyed and thought was good and right at the time, and that no amount of not knowing any better or guilt they feel in hindsight will ever make up for. i love living weapons who are "irredeemable", and no it's not their fault that they were made that way or pointed in the directions they were by the hand that wielded them, and yes they are victims, but so were their victims. living weapons who some people will never be able to forgive, but who still wake up every day and try to do better than what's expected of them. a sword that uses its blade to cut wheat to make bread for the people who once lived in fear of its arc falling on their heads.

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For Pride Month, I would like to throw my very long and pointy green hat in the ring.

[Disclaimer: this is 100% a joke and not a real audition unless you like me, in which case, I am very serious]

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I assure you: somebody, somewhere, is on the exact same wavelength as you are.

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when ur little brothers an aquatic turtle

close ups below

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When Shadow—alongside everyone else—was invited to Angel Island, he didn't expect to accidentally stumble across the Master Emerald. He also definitely didn't expect to be transported to another time and place, or that he would meet an Echidna who wasn't Knuckles. But, most importantly, he didn't expect said Echidna would try to talk to him about his feelings. Or, as my friend called it: "4,000 year old Mesoamerican ghost girl explaining gender to someone from the 50s"

A little bit belated, but here's what I wrote for @sonicpridecorner's first prompt, "Realization" :]

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When Shadow—alongside everyone else—was invited to Angel Island, he didn't expect to accidentally stumble across the Master Emerald. He also definitely didn't expect to be transported to another time and place, or that he would meet an Echidna who wasn't Knuckles. But, most importantly, he didn't expect said Echidna would try to talk to him about his feelings. Or, as my friend called it: "4,000 year old Mesoamerican ghost girl explaining gender to someone from the 50s"

A little bit belated, but here's what I wrote for @sonicpridecorner's first prompt, "Realization" :]

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thinking about this again

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Elegant doll-like robot maid: P-please put this one down at once!

Heavy industrial robot butch: Apologies. Was attempting to "pick up girls." May have misunderstood the phrase.

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Loving this letter that one deeply hilarious National Trust employee was clearly tasked with writing to dress one of the rooms at the property we visited today:

I'm sure they never anticipated Dr Tall Gf and I, who spend half an hour minimum in every single goddamn room, and will therefore notice every single thing, including your funny little jokes!!!

(Letter reads:

Fourth Dec. 1772

Dear Brother,

Whilst I am most delighted to welcome you to my home I must also let you know that quite recently I did engage a local artisan-builder to undertake the plasterwork here at Mompesson House. I have had many wonderful ideas for the plasterwork: to whit, peaches, Inigo Jones and Alexander Pope, King Midas, shells, a Green Man who is most distinctive, the Goddess Athena, a lady with the head of a cornucopia, a Large Eagle, several sundry fruits as well as the aforementioned peaches, and so on. Suffice to say, it will be most grand but also cause a lot of mess. Anyway, my great hope is that one day the plasterwork will be so historically significant that it will pass onto some kind of National Trust that protects buildings and their furniture and so forth. I am sure the employees of such an institution would be kind, generous, thoughtful, attractive, most engaging and witty, probably extremely sexy and certainly in general a delight to be near. Visitors of the future witnessing my noble plasterwork will be so grateful that they will no doubt spend plentiful money in the tea room and secondhand bookshop I should think.)