missmungoe - Tumblr blog

[missmungoe]

I just want you to know, I've spent the last month reading through all of your work. I'm so obsessed I don't want it to end. I even marked off all of your stories on the map as I finish them. Theres only a few left now and I'm going to be so sad when I'm all done. It's really great to see that you're still writing after all this time. I seriously can't wait to see what more you have in store. Take care!

I'm so happy you're enjoying them!! I also showed this to the mapmaker himself, and he's so excited that people are using the map<3

And it's hitting me just how long I've been doing this (eight years since I reworked Siren's Call and posted Sea Songs, which was the start of Shanties), but I've just really loved writing these stories, and out of everything I've ever written, Shanties has been the project I've poured most of my heart into. And while my audience is small, it's the kindest and most supportive I've ever encountered in all my years of writing fic. Case in point: messages like this, where all the work I've put into this series feels so worth it, because eight years and 2.5 million words later there's someone making their way through all of it and they still don't want it to end? Incredible<3

And there might yet be more unexplored islands added to the map! There's also the still-uncharted "?" ;)

[missmungoe]

Just here and hoping to fill that bounty for Ben Beckman, Laid or Alive (please, I'm begging)

(The wanted poster hangs, framed, next to Luffy's behind the counter of Shanks and Makino's bar. An updated version can be procured from the proprietors upon request.)

"Did he issue it on himself?" Shanks asked. "I still have so many questions. Also, since there's no mention of a reward, is he supposed to be the reward? That's...annoyingly clever."

"Are you jealous you didn't think to do this back when you were young and untethered?" Makino asked, bumping her hip against his where she'd joined him behind the counter, observing their wall of wanted posters. Pride of place was awarded to the young Pirate King's, surrounded by a cheerful assortment, including Yasopp's first, long out of print but still the source of several outlandish stories.

"First of all, 'back when you were young'? I'm unarmed, and that's a killing blow." The patient fold of her lips delicately parried the pun, although his beaming expression made it hard, as Shanks continued, "But no, I've had enough bounties issued on me in my lifetime; this would have been over the top, even for me. Why?" That grin was a fitting substitute for the blade he'd left in their quarters. "Want to cash it in? I might be retired, but this ass is still working."

This time, the fold of her lips didn't succeed in holding back her snorting laugh, before the rest rolled out of her, to the delight of her adversary and the bemused smiles of their patrons, their heads turning towards the bar at the sound.

They stood together for a gentle beat as it died down, her head leaning on his arm where he leaned against the counter, observing their wall of wanted posters.

Then Shanks asked her, with a nod to the one of their first mate (age seventeen, hair still black, shame not included) where it hung next to the Pirate King's,

"So does keeping it up here make us pimps?"

[missmungoe]

ODYSSEUS, Veteran Tactician Hades 2 (TBA) dev. Supergiant Games

[missmungoe]

all the new god portraits (so far) in hades 2 !!!

[missmungoe]

“Makino?” Buggy asked, but then in terms of names, it was as un-flashy as the rest of the village. “Who’s that, your mayor?”

That had Bucket Hat huffing, before he straightened his narrow shoulders. “I am the mayor,” he said, although it wasn’t long before he conceded, “But they’re right; she’ll know what to do. She owns the bar over yonder.” He gestured with his walking stick to a house down the street, before walking off, grumbling under his breath about today’s youth. Buggy didn’t correct him to say he was almost forty; compared to that knot of limbs, he probably was a youth.

The broad who owned the tavern was probably similarly ancient, but then places like this were usually made up of retirees and spinsters; everyone else either enlisted or set out to sea under a different flag, or just to try their luck in a city somewhere. This barmaid was probably twice his age, and with his luck, twice as mean. Why else would the villagers be so eager to send him her way, other than to see him chased out of her bar with a broom?

The bar in question was the only one in the village, but then that wasn’t a surprise. Party’s Bar, the sign read, which he might have paused on, because this town didn’t look like it would know a party if one showed up, but Buggy barely glanced at it as he shoved through the bat-wing doors―

―only to come to a halt, the doors swinging wildly behind him, and his wide eyes staring at the cheerful interior of a common room that looked so unlike any bar he’d ever set foot in, he almost went back to double-check the sign out front.

The rest of his crew filed in behind him; unlike Buggy, still staring at the neat interior, they reacted with delight and approval.

Movement behind the bar dragged his eyes to the woman there, only to freeze.

Wide, doe-brown eyes considered him, and the crew crowding her doorway. She looked surprised rather than afraid, as she said, carefully, “Hello.”

Buggy barely heard the greeting, still staring at her face. He’d expected an old bat, spine like a fishing hook and with barnacles growing in the grooves of her face; the kind who breathed salt and rum and whose apron had stains older than the bar.

The one watching him from behind the counter was barely thirty, and more than that, she was―

She was―

“Captain,” someone behind him whispered. “You’re blocking the doorway.”

[missmungoe]

Some art I did of Makino and Shanks from One Piece based off the AMAZING works by @missmungoe on ao3.

This one is from Tideswept which has me ON EDGE aksdktjyk it's so good I'm linking it. The whole series is AMAZING.

GO READ IT. RIGHT NOW. DO IT.

Notes: I based the dress loosely off of this Dior dress:

The pose is based off of the cover of an old bodice ripper romance novel that is missing its title. But it's very purple.

Anyway the fic has me absolutely FROTHING at the mouth. Legit screaming. I'm going feral over here.

[missmungoe]

“Hey!” Buggy snapped, his hands planted on the balcony railing. “The hell do you think you’re doing, calling the shots? You’re not the leader!”

Mihawk ignored him, his gaze still holding hers. The surrounding bounty hunters looked between them, as though unsure of whose orders to follow.

“Well,” the leader of the group who’d brought them said; unlike the rest of his men, Makino hadn't had the chance to learn his name, but maybe it was just as well. “This exchange went a little differently than I’d anticipated.” Then to Mihawk, “But even if she’s not navy, we rescued her from them, and we brought her to you, safe and sound, so it’s only right that we’re compensated.”

She heard Buggy splutter a protest, and if she hadn't been so overwhelmed, might have offered some choice words of her own about what she thought of his liberal use of the words "rescued" and "safe and sound", but before either of them could get a word in, “Very well,” Hawk-Eyes said, as Makino blinked. “Name your price."

“What the hell?!” Buggy shrieked. “You can’t just give our money away!”

The bounty hunter considered him, his look measuring, although the gleam in his eyes was familiar; the same he'd had when he'd presented her with the newspaper announcing her arrest, and he'd realised just who he had on his ship. It was the look of an opportunist.

“Three crowns,” he said then, as Buggy choked. And before Makino could ask what that meant, “Three billion berri.”

Her eyes widened.

A stunned beat passed. Within the crowded tent, you could have heard a pin drop.

Then Buggy exploded.

“Are you insane?!” he shrieked from the balcony, his voice carrying through the whole tent, and making everyone wince. “That’s what we’d pay for an Admiral!”

Makino might have seconded the first part, if the number hadn’t made her brain short-circuit.

[missmungoe]

His smile lifted from the brown eyes watching him to their mirrors across the counter, and, “If you want to hear everything, I’m going to be here a while,” Marco said.

Her grin saw no problem with that. “Then I should get you a drink,” Makino said.

He might have accepted, but watching the bandits taking their seats around the room, all but Dadan, who claimed the seat next to his, there was something else he'd rather have, and, “I’d actually be more interested in your stories,” Marco said. “You must have your share from when he was a kid.”

Their grins had already answered, before a voice called across the room, “Oh we’ve got stories!”

“That little punk got into more trouble before noon than most of us managed in a week!”

“And then had the audacity to tell us he was better at our profession than we were!”

Laughter filled the bar, the sheer volume of it so loud it stole his breath. And it hit him then, just how long it had been since he’d heard this kind of laughter.

And in the sound, he found them, all his ghosts, seated around the tables between the bandits, their eager grins awaiting their stories. And the greatest among them, sitting at the back of the room, no medical equipment holding him down and his presence as commanding as ever, presiding over the crowd, although even their captain would have known to defer to the proprietor’s authority here, but then it wasn’t just a barmaid’s domain they’d entered, but an Empress’.

“I think we should be able to work out an arrangement,” Makino said, with a smile that said his own assessment hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I accept more than one type of currency here.” Placing her hands on the counter, “So what can I get you?” she asked. “The time I taught him to mend his own clothes and he accidentally sewed his shirt to his shorts, or the time he wanted to learn how to cook and nearly set my kitchen on fire?”

[missmungoe]

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 A lovely bouquet of flowers for the lady!

Still have a bunch of these in my inbox, and on the subject of Makino befriending powerful people by just being herself, here's a snippet from the next chapter of Salt Vows, which is next on my list after Put It on My Tab:

She’d lost track of how many days had passed since her arrest, the hours bleeding together and the world beyond the brig unchanged, tossing restlessly against the ship, in tandem with the contents of her stomach.

At least she wasn’t alone this time, although in terms of companionship, a taciturn Vice-Admiral wouldn't have been her first choice.

“And then they all join forces to crash the king's execution?”

Eyes closed in a vain attempt at not seeing how much the brig was tilting, “There’s a bit more build-up before that, but yes,” Makino said, her voice echoing hollowly inside the bucket in her lap.

“It's too easy,” Smoker said, leaning back against the bulkhead where he sat on his cot, his seastone cuffs in his lap. Unlike her, he didn't seem remotely bothered by the rough conditions. “How did they even get into the city?”

“Would suspending your disbelief enough to accept that they did be too much to ask?”

"I just don't buy how they all got past the guards."

"Neither did Ben, but I don't see either of you writing a bestseller," Makino muttered, and felt the pang of longing, but then in debating the plotholes of her favourite books, a fiercer adversary was hard to imagine, even if her current companion was quickly proving himself a worthy opponent.

Primly mutinous, she kept herself from reminding him that he was the one who'd asked, but figured the boredom had to be getting to him. At least talking kept her mind off her seasickness.

Then Smoker said, “At least it's not as bad as that amnesia story.”

Opening her eyes slowly, Makino looked at him through the bars, before saying calmly, "I will toss my puke bucket at you."

The corner of his mouth jutted. “If you could lift it in your state I’d consider that a legitimate threat.”

She might have proved him wrong, but whatever rebuttal she’d had ready, verbal or otherwise, was cut short as the ship rocked, and she bent over the bucket and retched.

[missmungoe]

just wondering if you're going to update "Put it on my tab"? its one of my favorites and I just hoe everyone flocks to makinos!!!! this is not me trying to pressure an update btw!! take all the time you want but im just wondering where on the update list it is if that makes sense? Have a lovely day and I love your work so much!!!❤❤❤❤

Hearing that it's one of your favourites made me so happy, I went and finished the draft for the next chapter, so it's actually next on my schedule! Hoping to update it this week if energy allows, but in the meantime, have a little snippet while I edit!

From chapter 2 of Put It on My Tab, aka the fic where a lot of people show up in Makino's bar. First up:

The bar was like he’d described it.

It’s not your usual watering hole, he’d said, his gaze drawn inwards, as though picturing it. They'd been drinking in the galley on Moby Dick, all of them gathered together; the noise level had almost drowned out his voice as he'd continued, It’s really tidy, and she keeps flowers in her windows. I used to think bars were supposed to be seedy, or at the very least a little dingy. All the ones I’d seen in Goa were, so I figured it was part of the gig, but hers was different.

He’d grinned; the one he reserved for the good things from his childhood, like his brothers, and the bandits who’d raised him, as Ace had told them, simply, She’s different.

I take it you’ve never dined and dashed from your tab there, Marco remembered saying.

He’d laughed at that. He could still recall the sound, and the way he’d throw his head back. Oyaji had once remarked that he’d never looked more like his father than when he laughed, but Marco had never told Ace that.

I’d like to meet the person who could, Ace had said.

Their whole crew had been listening now, Oyaji included, a focus that betrayed a curious amount of intrigue, given the topic of conversation, but it was Izo who'd asked, She's that scary?

Ace's grin had softened, something almost bashful in it, as though he was suddenly a much younger boy, even if Marco had often teased him that he was young. And he’d given them a clear picture of the island where he'd grown up, and its inhabitants, Dadan and her family, and the villagers, but here he’d shaken his head, as though this couldn’t be described. Instead, all he’d said was,

If you ever meet her, you’ll see what I mean.

[missmungoe]

so i just put this together today but.

so i absolutely adore all your shanks/makino writing and i was talking to some friends about revisiting old fic and i mentioned that there was this fairy tail prohibition au i was obsessed with ages ago, i had even printed it out so that i could read it during school. and when i went to go find it again, the username looked really familiar. i fell in love with your writing two separate times over more than ten years and i think thats just kind of wild.

THIS IS INDEED WILD and I am so!!! As someone whose whole shtick is characters finding and falling in love with each other across different timelines and universes, “i fell in love with your writing two separate times over more than ten years” might just be the greatest thing I've ever been told. Just absolutely floored by this<3

[missmungoe]

day and night in the Shire

(prints)

[missmungoe]

“Speaking of the virginity parade, we still don’t know how Ben lost his!”

The call reached them from across the bar, dragging every pair of eyes within to their first mate.

“Better that you don’t know,” Ben said simply, and without looking up from his crossword.

Unsurprisingly, this did not dissuade them, as the grin jutting around his toothpick was well aware.

“You do realise that only makes us want to know more?”

"Why won't you tell us?!"

"Did you sign a non-disclosure agreement?"

"Does that mean it's someone in the navy?"

Ben remained unfazed by the barrage of questions, his attention on his crossword, and impatient, “Boss, can’t you pull the captain card?” a voice called, to loud agreement. “We’re dying here!”

“Someone has to win that betting pool; it’s ten years old!”

"I still say it was Tsuru!”

This was greeted with ooooohs, and several voices raised in agreement. “Yeah! She's way too familiar with you whenever we cross paths with her!"

More of them joined in, each suggestion more outrageous than the last. Someone claimed they’d heard there’d been a bounty out on it; another that he'd lost it to a Wano princess. Several high-ranked officers of the navy were mentioned, and one of the wilder suggestions was that he’d lost his virginity to the Kuja Pirates (plural), and not only that, but that it was the direct cause of their former Empress’ exile.

"Wait, which one?” someone asked, over the din of them all talking over each other. “The old girl or Shakuyaku?"

"If it was Shakky, I don't think Rayleigh would let us drink at the bar."

This was met with murmurs of agreement, before someone blurted in disbelief, “Do you all seriously think his first time was so significant it made the Empress of Amazon Lily abdicate?!”

"No one has that much game!!"

“I think this whole Casanova rep is just a front, and he's still a virgin!"

Their voices had risen to a fever pitch. For his part, Ben hadn’t taken his eyes off his crossword, and neither denied nor confirmed any of it, only grinned around his toothpick.

"Come on, Boss, make him tell us!"

They all turned to Shanks, who told Makino, "For the record, I also think it was Tsuru.” Then to the rest of the bar, watching him expectantly, “But if it was that easy to get him to spill, I’d have done it already. I’ve been trying to get him to open up for twenty years, and he still refuses. The captain card does not work.”

“Not for you,” Ben said.

The whole bar went quiet.

Then every single pirate within, their captain included, turned as one to Makino, who hadn’t lifted her eyes from the glass she was polishing.

[missmungoe]

I hope you write Shanks' pov more! It's really interesting and great and not just because of the explicit delicious chef's kiss smut. His thoughts and love for Makino is so lovely.

Oh then I have just the thing for you! A peek from the previously mentioned follow-up to Verses Not Fit For Singing in Public (aka the shibari fic), to be posted sometime this weekend once I've polished the edit. Timeskip setting this time, with plenty of (Sh)angst, smut, and Makino<3

He’d been working aloft all afternoon, refitting one of the sails, work that had been easier back when he’d had two hands, but he’d never been discouraged by a challenge, and had re-taught himself the things he’d once known, climbing the shrouds, and the sailor’s knots he’d once been able to do in his sleep, each one painstakingly re-learned with his remaining and non-dominant hand.

The lines flowed between his fingers now, the coarse texture of the ropes scraping his palms, calloused from years of similar work, his voice pitched low, singing under his breath to the rhythm of the motions as he slipped it through and under, looped and noosed and tightened with a decisive tug.

Smiling, his fingers traced the ropes, knotted tightly where he'd rolled up the mended sail, imagining the softer canvas of her skin, and closing his eyes, he sought the well-thumbed memory, recalling her under his hands, her delicate limbs pulled taut by the ropes, straining against the arch of her body where he'd bound her.

A breeze stirred him from the fantasy, the sudden gust carding through his hair and sending the shrouds creaking, and frowning, Shanks turned his eyes towards the horizon. A life on the water had attuned him to even the smallest changes in the weather, and he felt the tell-tale stirring in his gut now, but scanning the horizon found no sign that anything was amiss, only gentle East Blue with her demure sunset blush, as guileless as she’d ever been, but a gentle sea was only reassuring to a captain who didn’t know how quickly that could change.

The grip of unease didn't let go, but finished with the sail, he climbed down from the mast. He’d left his sandals somewhere, and the planks were warm under his bare feet, the deck newly scrubbed and oiled, but then even anchored for weeks, his ship was well-maintained. Pampered, even, the spoiled thing, hearing the pleased purring of her timbers, but then Makino had done more than just mend her sails, noting the fresh coating of oil gleaming along her banisters.

His shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to his back. He should probably wash up before heading to the bar, and turning towards his cabin, he spared one last look at the sea, and the water where it sighed over the shore, no more threat in the teasing push than in the breeze, even as he couldn't shake the sense that something was off, as though any second, the gentle tide might pull back to reveal its teeth.

His mind was elsewhere as he walked to his cabin, wondering if he should make a call to his scouts just in case something had slipped under their radar. And he must have been properly lost in thought, because he hadn’t noticed anyone coming aboard, and it wasn’t until he reached the door to his stateroom that he paused.

He didn't know how he'd missed her, but pushing the handle down to let himself inside found Makino seated in the armchair by his desk, the windows of his cabin behind her, and the naked horizon.

Shutting the door behind him, “Hey,” Shanks said, his smile warming at the sight of her. It wasn’t often she played hooky, least of all during her busiest time of day, and with his whole crew in her bar. “I was just going to wash up before coming to join you. Did you finally run out of patience with their baby name suggestions?”

He saw then that she had something in her lap, and recognised one of his logbooks, open and balanced atop her belly.

And he knew which one it was, the page open on his most recent entry, dated right before they’d returned from the New World. And Shanks knew even without reading it what it said, his own hand outlining his concerns regarding the expansion of Blackbeard’s territories, and the World Government’s inaction. The ripples from the war, and the approaching Reverie; all the things that kept him up at night, wondering if he was making the right choices.

“You’re not sleeping,” Makino said, lifting her eyes from the page to his. “I wanted to know why.”

Shanks considered the careful arrangement of her features, the steady weight of her gaze, and the cupid’s bow of her soft mouth, drawn with gentle purpose.

And he wondered why he was surprised that she’d noticed, when few things escaped her observation, or her haki.

The sigh that left him wasn’t quite surrender, but, “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you,” Shanks said, as he moved to stand before the armchair. “I just didn’t want to burden you with it when you’ve already got enough on your plate.”

His gaze lowered to her belly, hidden beneath the logbook; the other thing that occupied his waking hours, thinking of the life that hadn’t even begun yet, and wondering if his choices had already doomed it. That things beyond his control had already decided its fate; the baby who’d have his blood, and all that came with it.

Makino’s eyes were soft; in the warm sunset light of his cabin, they were a rich brandy. He hoped their child's would be the same; that they would be like her, dark-haired with those fine elfin features, and not immediately recogniseable as his, knowing already what that would mean.

“It’s not a burden to know what’s on your mind, Shanks,” Makino said. Then, her chin lifting ever so slightly, “And even if it was, I’d still want it.”

The words settled between them, folding like wings between the salt and the still air. And it wasn’t a demand, even if she could have phrased it that way, when she of all people had the right. It wasn’t even a question, asking him to give what he had vowed to give her, the day they’d bound their lives before a different sunset. In sickness and in health; the good with the bad. No, if it was anything, it was an offer, but then of course it was, because it was her, who had seen him long before she'd known him.

He wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling, the pressure around his chest that made it suddenly hard to breathe, and that he couldn’t tell if was gratitude or guilt, or both.

He felt suddenly out of his depth. And he was usually quick on his feet, situations and opponents analysed in seconds, rarely if ever hesitating when faced with a difficult choice, but then he’d once jokingly claimed that if faced with Scylla and Charybdis, the hardest choice would be which one would make for the better story (Buggy had called him a self-aggrandizing dick; Shanks had just laughed, but hadn’t disagreed).

Makino watched him calmly, waiting for him to speak. And there was no blame for withholding things from her, or even an expectation for him to share it now.

And this wasn’t an opponent facing him in battle, or a challenger come to unseat him, and yet observing her where she sat, he couldn't help the feeling that a challenge had been made all the same.

He looked at the logbook in her lap, and wondered how much she’d read, and what she’d found between the lines. Things he hadn’t told his crew, even his closest circle.

Then, “I dream about it,” Shanks said, meeting her eyes. “The funeral.”

The graves changed. Sometimes it was his old captain, sometimes Buggy, or Rayleigh. Ben and Yasopp and Lucky. Sometimes they weren't graves but his ship, broken on the rocks of that little islet; a monument to his failures. Any captain worth the title went down with his ship, wouldn’t leave as long as there was another soul aboard, but in his dreams, Shanks was always the only one left.

But the worst nightmares were about her. And lately, the one beneath her hands, who hadn’t even drawn breath yet; who didn’t even have a name to etch into a gravestone.

The hurt in her eyes was hard to look at, but he didn't try to hide from it now, only said, “I hope I haven’t been keeping you awake.”

He wasn't sure if he'd meant it as a question, when the fact that she'd noticed said its part, but, “You’re careful,” Makino said. “But I can tell.”

His mouth crooked. “So much for subterfuge. And here I fancied myself a master of stealth.”

Makino didn't smile. And someone else might have accused him of hiding behind his humour, but it wasn’t that simple. If it had been, he’d be better at hiding, but his humour was so tightly entwined with who he was, his grief included, there was no untangling it. It wasn't a mask; was just him, optimistic and cynical, ruthless and tender-hearted, pragmatic to a fault and yet still utterly, inexorably full of hope. A barmaid's husband, and an Emperor of the Sea; Shanks didn't know where the dividing line went, knew only that he was both, and that like the other parts of him, they were so tightly bound that there was no removing one and not the other.

Her eyes swept across him then, taking him in, barefoot with his shirt open, his cloak discarded, but unlike his clothes, there were things he couldn’t take off and leave in his cabin, like the mantle of responsibility, and the still heavier burden of his lineage, which grew heavier every week, as her belly did. And he wondered what she'd found between the lines now, when Makino asked him, “When was the last time you let yourself relax?”

His knee-jerk reaction was instinctive, to tell her he was a certified expert in leisure and relaxation, but what came out instead was the truth.

“I can’t remember,” Shanks said.

Her brows knitted, not in surprise, but as though he’d just confirmed her suspicions. And he was about to tell her she didn’t need to worry, that it was just a bout of insomnia and it would sort itself out, when Makino closed the logbook to put it away, drawing his gaze to her lap.

He stared at the spools of hempen rope; with the logbook open, he hadn't noticed them before, although the reason for their presence didn’t register immediately.

“If you came to help me with the sail, I already fixed it,” Shanks said.

Her eyes hooded a bit, a fey smile lifting her soft mouth, and the beginnings of realisation began to dawn on him, as Makino told him, “I didn’t come for the sail.”

[missmungoe]

Hey! You write the most delicious smut and I hope you write more Erated stories because Shanks and Makino's smut written by you is probably the hottest thing EVER!

HI, I'm delighted you think so!! I always hope there's at least one other person who enjoys my raunchier stories, and so this is<3

And regarding more E-rated stories...I might have something new in the works for you ;)

[missmungoe]

And they’d discussed this―the danger, should the world discover who she was, and whose child she was carrying. Red-Hair the Emperor, as loved as he was feared, however hard it was to reconcile that last part with the man she’d married, who misplaced his sandals and loved jokes at his own expense, and who helped run her bar, apron and serving tray included.

That was the man sitting at her bar now, but she found him behind his eyes, the Emperor with a thousand enemies, with his chips and cracks, but as beautiful as the first time she'd laid eyes on him.

Her smile sought to lift his worries, and, “No one’s turned up yet,” Makino said. “But if anyone does, I know what to do.”

His frown deepened, and with a smile, “I’m a barmaid,” Makino said. “I’ll offer them a drink.”

He stared at her. Then, “You say that so earnestly,” Shanks said, “I’m afraid you’re not joking.”

With a delicate shrug, “Well I can’t exactly challenge them to a bar brawl,” Makino said. “And you’ve said yourself that it’s your preferred method of conflict resolution. So drinks it is. Not on the house, though; I have bills to pay. And if we’re serious about opening that brewery, I’ll need the customers.”

“Again,” Shanks said, carefully. “You are joking, right?”

[missmungoe]

Hi! I saw you’ve finished Mnemosyne and I was like “yes! Gonna sit down and read this beautiful thing all the way thru!” I’d been sitting out the past few updates so that I got a whole “binge” feeling (like a normal book I guess?) so I didn’t have to sit with all the new emotions I knew each chapter/update would leave me with. I could just keep powering through!

But now I have to go through all of those emotions at once…it’s never ending!

Anyways, I love you and how alive your stories feel!

Ps if you ever do make a print book lmk cuz I’d spend money on that!

Always delighted to be the purveyor of emotional turmoil!!

And that my stories feel alive might be one of the loveliest compliments I can think of<3