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There are two types of writers:
1. 'It's fiction, it doesn't need to make sense!'
2. 'I didn't account for the rotation of the planet and how that affects the constalations while my characters stargazed at different times of year, I have failed as a writer, and this entire thing is trash'
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What’s the rarest rarepair you’ve written for, based on ao3 stats?
Never written anything that could count as a rarepair
Less than 1000 works
Less than 500 works
Less than 100 works
Less than 50 works
Less than 10 works
Was the actual first to write it and had to make the ship tag yourself
Not a writer
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the most insane double casting i’ve heard of is ophelia and horatio being played by the same actress. the implications of that drive me crazy
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Look I love unconditional devotion love stories as much as the next person, but there's really something so deliciously raw about conditional devotion.
I have served you and I have loved you for decades, but I will not give up my principles for you. You cut out part of my heart and took it with you down that path that you insist on walking, but you walk it alone. Even when the bleeding, gaping hole you left in my chest kills me, I will not follow you.
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unironically suffocation no breathing and not because of my smoking too though
I make fun off Jeff Yellow Jacket. Because he went to his car and played f****** Papa. Roach about his wife's affair. But that's literally truly what I feel like. Doing now and I don't even have a car? Because my father thinks I'm going to do things just because I'm not on peak addiction anymore
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I make fun off Jeff Yellow Jacket. Because he went to his car and played f****** Papa. Roach about his wife's affair. But that's literally truly what I feel like. Doing now and I don't even have a car? Because my father thinks I'm going to do things just because I'm not on peak addiction anymore
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One year ago today I posted this miniature Abe Sapien photo I created all shot for real using zero water, real lighting, figures, miniature sets and practical effects.



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@fluffyfebruary 27: fixer upper



A Broken Saviour
postcanon × 345 words × ao3
For weeks, she doesn’t even turn to see her. After that first visit; burning with her triumph marked by Billy’s blood on her shirt and his bruises on her neck, Krista simply opted for ignoring her. It was easier than she thought. She looked more put together in subsequent appearances, out of the corner of her eye, she didn’t have the magnetism of combat thickening the air between them.
So she looked at the ceiling, thinking this was just what it was like for Billy when he was her patient. It’s interesting, receiving such attention from the SAC for Homeland is sure something, even if they don’t exchange a word. But nothing can last forever, and one day Dinah charges into the room; face flushed and eyes shining with hatred. That’s how she finds out the case against her has been dismissed. She sighs, one less problem, although something tells her her licence is a whole different issue. She stares openly at Dinah’s fighting stance, like she hasn’t decided whether she’s gonna throttle a woman with casts all over her body, until the charge nurse escorts her out.
It’s different after that, somehow. They start speaking, and after a while they look at each other without having it feel like a challenge. The gruelling operations Dinah has been pulling and the fact that Krista can hardly even feed herself help. And after a while, she has to face up to the facts. She likes Dinah.
It’s kind of ironic, aside from the knifefight-defenestration incident, the way Dinah had questioned her willingness to try and save others. And her crushing of her most successful project to date. Like Heracles trading the burden of the skies for apples, she’ll do for an alright substitute. When she smiles up at her, the taller woman shivers like she can read her mind. And why shouldn't she? Who can she say knows her as closely as the lover of her lover? And what's the real difference between hatred an desire. Things to think of later, now it's about saving her.
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PLEASE PLEASE WHEN WILL SHAUNA DIE WHEN WHEN WHEN WILL SHE DIE I TRIED TO FW HER BUT JESUSCHRISTTTTT
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Sanrio’s friend of the month for March is Cinnamoroll!
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×○×
@fluffyfebruary 28: the last time



When the mission in Crab Point goes sideways despite all the tech Kalmia developed to help her favourite agent, she decides it's the last time she sits an assignment out. When confronted with his mysterious past, Abe figures his present will do for now.
Nothing to Do, Nowhere to Go
mission fic ☆ hurt/comfort ☆ unreliable narrator ☆ plague of frogs ☆ prerelationship ☆ team bonding ☆ friendship ☆ 3003 words ☆ ao3
Abraham stirs in his tank. Is this how fish sleep? I move closer, already having let myself in it’s not like this is more of an invasion than before. And besides, we’re friends. We’re friendly. Apparently over my whole human supremacy over man(ure) made life, I’ve found he’s actually alright of a bloke. Now, his eyes move quite fast under his lids, and his lips part like he’s talking. I shrug, go back to the desk where I’m setting up shop, and review the equipment. I’m testing the earpiece when he jolts up; water clinging to his body like he’s an aquatic, very confused, venus being born.
Do fish dream? ‘Bad dream?’
He looks at me, blinking slowly and yes, I’m glad I’m here. And I’m glad he doesn’t loath me anymore, I suppose. ‘Why are you… why are you up?’
‘Michigan mission today, didn’t you hear? I’ll be damned if I let you go in as blind as you did in New Jersey.’
‘Are you coming?’
‘You should be so lucky. After that shitshow in North Carolina Manning agreed I was field rejected, officially. And good riddance, I can help from a distance.’
He gives me a look between annoyed and curious. We’re friendly, but I know he’d like me to be a tad braver. Whatever, the brave die out there enough to need a woman like me to try the smart approach. As I explain my gear; a portable motion sensor with adjustable range up to two miles, an aim stabiliser for the next time he’s running and shooting at the same time, long range incendiary bullets, I feel out of place in my sleepshorts and ratty jumper. I pass him my tea, which he sips as I fit the earphone on him.
‘Keep me updated, private betta.’
He nods with a small smile, and I figure we’re not too bad a team. When Liz comes to get him, she’s nice enough I hand her an aim adjuster of her own. Not that I think she’ll be shooting much, but it’s the thought that counts. I join them for the pre-mission meetup, and the looks I get are worth it to see O’Donnell of all people tear Manning a new one. I send a single rotor drone with them as they board the chopper, just in case, and go back to my laptop.
I scroll Stack Overflow boredly, taking note of the back and forth from the chopper where Abraham questions Johann’s ability to cope probably more than would be diplomatic, and they discuss this Temple of New Mysteries or whatever, and man am I glad I’m not there. I’m really glad I’m not there when the whir of the chopper stops so abruptly I’m checking my headset, and then there’s the commotion that precedes a hard landing. I’m yelling at Sapien who’s yelling at Roger, entirely ignoring me, before the transmission cuts off entirely.
I test my microphone Sapien, are you there, can you hear me? as I change screens, trying to boot up my drone to life. After long tense minutes, it responds, and the black on my screen lights up from the centre to show the inside of a helicopter that’s clearly crashed. An agent to my left asks if it’s a live feed and about the range of my signal. I run for Manning instead of answering. The truth is I’m piggybacking it off Abraham’s comms, but they don’t need to know that really. I find him with the official ground control people, saying something stupid about waiting around.
‘There’s no time for that!’ I could have, should have, changed out of my pyjamas, but hindsight is 20/20 as Manning pointed out. ‘They’ve crashed, you need to send help now!’
‘How do you know? Where are they?’
‘’I saw it, I swear, this is the last time you get me to stay behind on a mission!
He looks at me, calculating and annoyed, since it’s me who’s been insisting I can’t go out there even before I had to, but gets with the program quickly enough once I turn my laptop around to show them a birdview of the helicopter where it lays on the roof of some church.
‘We’re alerting the local authorities, can you get Kate on that? I think she was trying to make contact by radio.’
I blush, I didn’t give anyone else a headset, but it’s not like it’d be helpful now. I pull my earpiece off. ‘My connection broke off as they fell, we’ve only got visuals. You’ve got to send more agents!’
He gets on the phone with someone who won’t be fast enough, or helpful enough, as I drive my drone downwards. It’s still working, so it must mean Abraham is alright. Even with the earpiece fried, the comm in his belt is repeating my commands so he must be. I hover over the so-called temple where his signal is coming from whilst Manning tries to get me to do a perimeter search.
He quiets down when a rough looking Corrigan comes into view. She’s trying to get through a door, and hasn’t had the idea of shooting it down. I fly low to drive her back enough for me to blow it away, and still she’s sent back with the explosion. Someone swears behind me, but it’s for the better for the next moment the place is erupting in flames. A sort of presence comes out with the fire, making the images pixelate.
‘Was that Johann?’
‘Agent Kraus cannot die, is Kate alright?'
I roll my eyes, but I’m in control so it’s up to me to both stabilise my drone and put up with his protests as I fly it away from a coughing, apparently alive Corrigan and upwards as I try to get Abraham in the view. Manning is annoying, wanting me to circle back to the skeletons rising around her, and for a second I think he might try and wrestle the computer off my hands. I put the drone on autopilot so that it finds him, and argue if his local support is any good she should be alright.
We both shut up when we see Abraham, alive and hale, stumbling out of the building with Sherman. There’s an instant where I fear for Corrigan’s fate before Sherman is running towards her looking for all hell ready to do some mass cremation action. I deploy the second and last charge of explosives on the thick of it to give her time to make it and follow Abraham as he runs back inside. I put up with some verbal abuse about the frogs that were standing between the women and I actually didn’t notice, and wherever Roger might be; who'd I forgotten was on the mission too, as I follow Abraham through the halls of the rundown manor.
Manning stops trying to pull rank on me as he opens a door to a room where a satanic symbol shines on the candle light behind the framed picture of some ugly hermit. The image quality decreases gradually in a way I associate with the supernatural, and I see the motion detector go off furiously on his belt, but he ignores it, seemingly in a trance. I scan the room to see an even uglier cultist creeping behind him, and curse myself for spending my explosives on a door and some reanimated bones. He advances undeterred as I fly into his face, I try nudging Abraham’s back and I see him turning before my enemy is grabbing the drone and smashing it against a wall.
I yell, to no one and accomplishing nothing, try to get my drone to respond. It’s no use, the camera is cracked and it barely stirs as I will it to fly between Abraham and the harpoon that pierces through his chest just above his vest. I’m numb, I’m furious, I’m bereft. I throw my laptop back on the table, wind knocked out of me as I stare at Manning in horror.
‘You sent him there! You sent them all there! And you think just because you die easier–’
‘Look at that! He’s moving?’
Devon’s voice pulls me back to myself, where I’m advancing towards Manning, a broken mug held on my hand as a weapon. I take a deep breath and make myself look back at the screen where Abraham’s legs move sluggishly towards a window, dripping blood to the floor. As I hold my breath he falls back through it and, regaining my wits, I deploy the upper part of my drone to follow.
Manning sounds surprised as my screen changes from the cracked view of my drone to a lower quality, night vision feed. ‘What is that?’
‘I call it earth rover. What d’you think I do all day in the lab, just fuck around with distortion pedals and shit?’ He looks more impressed than irritated. ‘Don’t look at me, send for a medevac yesterday!’
I don’t waste my time trying to read his expression, but he stops trying to tell me what to do as my robot falls out of the window. I’ve still got no sound, so I can’t tell what all Abraham’s got to say to his would be murderer, and I’m too distraught at the weapon still lodged on his chest to do anything with my robot for an instant. Abraham shoots, catching the bastard at the top of my kill list on fire, but all he does is walk into the flames consuming the forest around them as Abraham falls to the ground.
I’ve been working on an NCVS system, but it’s rudimentary at best. That doesn’t stop Manning from admiring it as my robot crawls on Abraham’s chest to tell me what I already know. His pulse is rising and his respirations falling. I didn’t even write in an infrared sensor for his temperature. Instead of berating myself over that, I relay the information as I reiterate the need for medical support.
The mangy corpse of a dog comes into view, and the image is distorting again as something creeps closer to my camera and into Abraham, and it’s a bit much. I’m yelling and throwing my computer to the ground and being held like I’m an attack risk, did I try to attack someone? Devon is asking how to get the coordinates at the top of his lungs, but I can barely hear him because someone is shrieking like they’re dying. I’ve been drugged and I’ve done drugs, and that’s how I know I‘ve been sedated when my arms feel heavy and my hand drops a pen I didn’t realise I was holding and my knees give out, leaving me to hang on someone’s hold around my torso.
I wake up with a start. I’m not in the gulag for bad rebellious pseudo agents, and not in a hospital bed. Good. I’m thirsty, and my head feels heavy as I sit up on the visitor’s couch. I’m in a hospital room, just not mine.
‘Thanks for the air support.’
I startle at Corrigan’s voice. With my eyes glued to the bed, I didn’t notice her. She moves closer now, turns on the lights before handing me a glass of water. I smell it, unsure whether she’d need to use a ploy to drug me.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Talking feels so shit I’m drinking, uncaring of the consequences. ‘Could have done more, but all I had were two charges.’
She says something else, maybe about ergonomic design, maybe more gratitude, I don’t know. My ears ring when I get my feet to hold my weight up and stagger to the bed where Abraham lies. He’s breathing on his own, and his monitors look good. I sigh, lean my weight on the handrail.
‘Is Johann okay? Liz?’
‘They’re fine. We’ve got another containment suit for these cases. Roger is alright too, your tracker saved us time and casualties finding him.’
‘Okay.’
I don’t move my eyes from Abraham’s face. I want to ask, but I gather he’s stable and unconscious, and doubt she can tell me anything else. ‘Why am I here?’
‘I thought you should be. He was awake for a bit just as we got him into the chopper.’
‘I saw the harpoon go right through him.’
She says nothing, walks closer to stand next to me and I take a good look at her. She looks exhausted, her face is scrapped and she’s missing an earring. How long was I out, and did they just get here?
‘I didn’t think you could handle the work we do.’
My concern is quickly washed off by a rolling wave of hatred for her composure, the sure footing she holds, where I’m getting dizzy just standing here. I knew that. I know nobody thinks I’m cut out for this, but they can’t find anything else for me to do. And if I hadn’t wasted my weapons to keep her safe I could have saved Abraham and she wouldn’t be here giving me this smart holier than thou look.
‘When you ran in New Hanover…’
‘When I got thrown off a fourth floor in New Hanover! Into alligator infested waters, and then almost burnt to death! And…’
I’ve been stupid, and let go off the hospital bed to try for a fight stance that’s too much to ask of my depleted systems. The room spins as bile rises up my throat and she’s catching me before I hit the floor, pulling a chair closer to set me down and my attempt at a glare gets interrupted as there’s rustling from the bed and I turn my attention to Abraham.
‘You’ve proven me wrong. The others too.’
‘By trying to kill Manning with a piece of ceramic?’ My voice is an angry whisper and I don’t look at her as I drag my chair closer to a rousing Abraham. ‘Getting my drone thrashed on my first try?’
‘By caring.’
Her hand rests for a moment in my shoulder, and I shiver with something that’s not hatred nor desire. I don’t turn when she closes the door behind him, as I seem to have woken Abraham up with my outburst, eyes open just a millimetre on blue vertical lines.
‘Oy, fishface.’ His face scrunches and is that a bloody smile? I laugh, relieved. ‘Gave Corrigan a proper scare, you did.’
He hums, takes a deep breath. ‘I’m just me, aren’t I?’
‘Who else did you wanna be? Someone who doesn’t get almost killed for a living?’ I stand slowly. ‘Scoot over.’
He complies, leaving enough space for me to climb into the bed with him. I’m relieved beyond words he’s alright, even though I don’t understand this line of questioning. He’s Abraham, the nicest and hardest to kill agent around. He examines me now, and I feel newly selfconscious about my attire.
‘Are you alright?’
‘Let’s recap, who got got like Moby Dick?’ He lifts a slow hand to my wrist, checks my pulse. ‘It’s just a sedative. I kindof got freaked, frogs and explosions, and they got me good. I don’t think it’s entirely worn off.’
‘You walked around like this?’
‘Nope. Corrigan brought me, I think. Woke up just over there.’
‘She likes you.’
‘She thinks I’m useful.’ I correct. ‘Held some army of the undead off with a drone, probably got the coordinates for extraction. Devon was trying to make sense of my code when I went amok and got it like Joey Ramone.’
‘So your remote approach isn’t as safe as you thought?’
I flick his face with the blanket. ‘Arsehole. Just as well, I’m coming with next time.’
His face drops, he looks away and then at me. ‘Are you sure? The things we saw today… They changed the pilot, transformed him. I didn’t even know his name, and now he’s dead.’
‘Yesterday, I think. And you know my name.’ I look at the window, head movement enough to get me dizzy again and I press closer to him. ‘I’m not talking about playing berserker like Sherman, I can do other things. Establish a perimeter, monitor the situation. I don’t have to be in the middle of it. You know I like to be safe, I’d just like you to be, too.’
He nods, and we lie there. I count his breaths and offer him what’s left of my water. As he drinks, my eyes slide from his lips to his throat. He’s alive. He basically saved me in North Carolina, and I couldn’t do the same for him, but now I’ve got the chance to make that right. He gives me the glass and I set it on the nightstand as his gaze seems to wrap around my entire body.
‘Mad you went all hands on for a mission I worked in my jammies?’
‘You’re just you.’
‘Put some respect in the you.’ Automatic answer, automatic answers never work with him. ‘What’s all that? Had some near death experience and now you’re all Tila Tequila, are you?’
He shakes his head. Showoff. ‘It’s just like Liz said. We know where she came from,’ I cough something that may sound like family annihilator and earn a disapproving look. ‘We know where Johann came from, Roger, and even Hellboy. But I’m just… I think I saw something. What I am, or what I’ve been.’
I furrow my brows, past arson-murder humour. ‘Like what?’
‘I’m not sure. I was sure it mattered, then I woke up and you’re here. I don’t know who you are either, but if I can trust you I think I can trust myself.’
I want to ask him to back up, how come he doesn’t believe I’m just another victim of wrong place, wrong time; and why does he think he can trust me, but I reason this is friendship for him. Camaraderie, even. And still I’m stumped for an answer. I shrug.
‘Yeah, I think so.’
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me when the rent payment hits and empties my bank account
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What if Pokemon & Animal Crossing had a crossover game? #20 Made in Blender. Merry Toy Day y'all :>
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Do you feel guilty when you’re not creating?
#read that paragraph in dorian gray that's saying something like the most poetic poets hardly write anything worthwhile for they're living it#instead and never looked back#and the bible itself says there's a time for sexualising the fishman and a fine for skiing drugs and losing fights#brother im chilling
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