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1.) if they get married, who proposes? lyra, hands down. it definitely isn’t the cutesy kind of proposal. it’s more of “we spent so many years apart and we probable won’t make it out of this alive so let’s enjoy the time we have left” kind of proposal. sad, but still cute.
2.) what’s the wedding like? who attends? at the moment, it is a very small and quick wedding. the only person attending besides lyra and remus is sirius black. they didn’t want to wait and plan something extravagant, so they asked sirius to marry them and that is that.
3.) how many kids do they have, if any? what are they like? eventually, they’ll have twins, a boy and girl! since there isn’t information on lycanthropy being passed down to children, i decided to make my own canon and have their children experience minor things. for example, they become restless during a full moon, and their emotions/senses are heightened, but they’ll still remain normal for the most part. their son resembles their mom more whereas their daughter resembles their dad. v cute!
4.) do they have any pets? definitely not, remus in werewolf form is enough
5.) who’s the stricter parent? uh,,, probably remus ngl. idk why it’s just a vibe i’m getting.
6.) who kills the bugs in the house? lyra,,, again it’s just the vibes im getting
7.) how do they celebrate holidays? very lowkey. lyra always makes sure she gets remus something, even when he begs her not to bc he doesn’t need anything. they’ll usually spend their nights together as a family or join the weasleys. 
8.) who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning? l y r a !!!!! sometimes she just wants a moment to forget that bad things aren’t happening and want remus to stay in bed just a little longer.
9.) who’s the better cook? again, no reasoning,,,, but definitely lyra

send me ship questions!

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My tattoo story:

#1/#2: Mandala/Dots - The mandala on my right thigh was my very first tattoo. I got it when I was eighteen years old. I had located an artist whose specialty was mandalas, lotuses, jewelry, and other things of the sort. I was very impressed with her line work, but I had my own idea of what style I was looking for. I sent her a few example images and she somehow melded them all together and created that masterpiece. It took about three hours to complete.

The dots on my left wrist are a little harder to explain. Throughout my four years in highschool, I would draw these dots on me every single day. Why? I have no idea… I just knew they needed to be on my body forever. I got these right after the mandala on my thigh. It was a random request that cost me an extra $20, but I would not take it back for the world.

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#3: Mandala - The mandala on my left forearm was designed by yours truly! I had been drawing a lot of my own designs at the time, and I felt like one of them needed to make it onto my body! I remember the artist giving me a hard time about this one, because they wanted to tattoo a more realistic version of what I drew after I insisted I wanted my own art on myself. It probably took about thirty minutes to complete.

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#4: Emaciated Cat - I looked up “dead cat drawing” on Google and scrolled until I landed on this guy. I am not very proud of using a random image from Google, because I am unable to credit the original artist, but it was the best tool at my disposal at the time (if ANYONE knows who this might be, please let me know!) My artist augmented the tail a bit to frame it perfectly onto my forearm. I think this one took about two hours to complete.

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#5: Rose - This was my first Friday the 13th tattoo. I got it for $25. That is it. I wanted a cheap tattoo.

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(This is where my memory starts getting hazy; I do not remember the order of these next tattoos.)

#6-10?: Teacup/Plague Doctor/Unalome/Deer/Quote - The Friday the 13th* tattoos were $20.

  • Teacup* - I love tea
  • Plague Doctor* - The idea has always interested me
  • Unalome* - My journey through life
  • Deer* - They are one of my favorite animals
  • “With Time Comes Grace” - music lyric from Here’s to the Heartache by Nothing More.
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#11-12?: Bee/Hanging Cat - The bee is a mostly matching tattoo with my ex. His is less “sketchy” than mine. The hanging cat was another image pulled from Google (it was one of the most painful ones, too).

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To be continued (because I can’t squeeze more than 10 photos in one post!).

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OMG YOU MADE ME FEEL FOR A MAMMOTH PLUSHIE I WANT ONE ANDY DESERVES ONE.TvT💗 this is so angsty I love Andy so much

Sometimes Andy forgets how long she’s been alive. Her mind is a sea. Sometimes it’s calm, most days it is stirred by an invisible breeze, memories that play in the back of her mind with a terrifying underlying doubt: am I remembering this correctly? Did this happen? What else have I lost?

I look at a window of stained glass and the green is the exact shade of a lake. I can’t remember anything else. Who was with me? I remember someone holding my hand. I remember I loved you. I forgot you. I am sorry.

In the past centuries there’s been anger, a storm that draws its power from the bottom of the ocean itself, from the place where she buries her pain —every grave, every year of loneliness, every moment of happiness that time has snatched away when she wasn’t looking. Anger brings everything to the surface in a deep wound of feelings. She doesn’t mind feelings, she fights against numbness every day.

Memory: Quỳnh said she could remember for both of them. Whatever you forget, I’ll remember. I’ll tell you everything at night, stories to keep us awake when it is not time to surrender to the night just yet. I don’t like falling asleep when I can have you right here.

Memory: Quỳnh’s kisses that night. Her arms holding Andy close. The rare luxury of feeling held and safe and for once, not alone.

Andy doesn’t want to sleep. It’s not like she can really see Quỳnh there.

Memory: Booker gasping awake by her side. He looked younger, which is both impossible and true. His blue eyes were still a clear spring sky. The night was cold and it was … three centuries ago? No, this is wrong. It’s impossible to keep track of exact years. Andy lives in eras.

Booker gasped and everyone had their hand on their weapons. And that time it was Yusuf the one who, despite the visible tiredness in his eyes, was the first to ask what was wrong. “Is everything fine?”

Nicolò was pretending not to listen. So was Andy. But French was easy back then, it was the language of every day. Booker’s French was clear as the green lake where Andy thinks remembers imagines happened her first kiss.

“I dreamt of a woman in an iron coffin.”

The memory focuses on what happened right after those words. Something ugly and ferocious started snarling, barely awake, in her chest. It snapped its teeth and even if it wasn’t green, it was dark grey and the deep black of the bottom of the ocean, Andy knew what it was.

“You dreamt of Quỳnh.” Yusuf said. Nicolò closed its eyes as if a new burden was falling on his shoulder all over again.

Oh, Andy remembers thinking, envy.


Andy remembers when she’s not fighting. That’s why she kept herself active, even if she had to be alone at times because the others couldn’t handle her pace of moving/dying/fighting/moving.

She’s been mortal for six months and she can feel that her mind changed. Her brain doesn’t heal anymore. She forgets and it’s almost painless. She loses the important bits and the useless days, which are never useless because piled together create friendships, love, meaning, family. She can’t fight it and she is trying to accept that.

Andy as a mortal can grasp the concept of family better than her immortal self ever could. The others (NickyJoeNileBookerNileJoeNicky, her litany of anchors to the present) are going to outlive her, and it will probably hurt them, but this is exactly why she can love them better now. She can teach Nile how to fight in a way that anyone else but her forgot, she can drink cheap wine with Nicolò and wash the dishes with Joe. She can laugh and pretend to be mad when Nicky says something sappy and absolute and incorrect like “I believe our love in a way will be forever”.

She can be with them with her whole self, because she knows that, if she plays her cards right, she will be the first to die for real. Is she selfish to find this comforting? Maybe. But it’s a relief, knowing she won’t have to mourn Nile. She can hug Nile. She can let Joe leave a kiss on her cheek. She can phone Booker in the middle of the night to hear his voice. She can have her family for as long as she can resist, then she’ll die at her own terms.

Memory: a voice. You’re not allowed to die without me.

Missing Quỳnh is now easier than remembering her at all.

-

Booker stops answering her calls six months after Merrick. Maybe she’s getting paranoid, but she thinks something’s happening. It can be something good: maybe Booker is getting therapy. Maybe he went back to teaching. Maybe he doesn’t answer her calls but still texts Nile late at night. It happened just once, but it could happen again.

Memory, fresh like ink just spilled: it was their second mission since Merrick, three months ago. Joe was driving, Nicky was asleep in the seat behind Andy’s. They were all tired, but Nicky was exhausted: he’d stayed awake to keep track of their mark for almost forty hours, separated by the rest of the group and with no means of communication. Joe had panicked, of course, but this time Booker wasn’t there to distract him. It’s difficult to remember they have to do without him. It’s not Nile’s place to replace Booker. As he drove, Joe checked every few minutes if Nicky was okay, his mind evenly divided between Nicky and the road in front of them.

Andy was trying not to fall asleep. The silence was comfortable, heavy like a cocoon of blankets, or heavy like the moment before you start dreaming. The sea in Andy’s head was calm.

Behind Joe, Nile was texting someone. In their microcosm, it didn’t take a genius to know who she was texting. Not Copley, who was driving in the van behind them. Sebastien then, and the light of the screen showed that Nile was smiling faintly. Andy didn’t ask. She wondered, though.



She wants to see Booker again before she dies.

Something else is happening around Andy. Nicky can’t hide surprises, he smiles too much when he’s lost in thought. Andy sees him smiling at a pile of dirty dishes, eyes vacant, and knows: they’re planning something (if it’s Nicky, it’s also Joe).

Andy knows, but she thinks it’s for Nile. If she knew Nile better, she would see how she disappears with Joe in the early mornings when both Joe and Andy are usually still asleep. If Andy wasn’t so old that she forgets she doesn’t know everything, she would definitely notice how Nile asks her many questions about the past. She asks about mammoths, of all things. Of course Andy has seen them. She even liked them. They were huge and beautiful and they seemed immortal, until they weren’t.

Nile uncovers memories without making it hurt too much. She asks but knows when to stop, lets Andy reorganise her thoughts before she starts to speak. Nile is sweet and strong in all things; Andy loves her so much already. That’s why Andy doesn’t notice the subtle pattern in the questions, she just answers.

Nicky smiles, Nile asks, Joe draws every night while Nicky and Nile play mario kart. Andy basks in a month of quiet love and doesn’t notice how it’s all for her.

It’s been six months and more since Merrick when they give her the notebook. And the stuffed mammoth.

It goes like this: she wakes up and goes to the kitchen still in her pajama, which is actually a tank top with too many bullet holes and an old pair of sweatpants so large they were probably bought for Sebastien. Her eyes are half shut, her mind blissfully warm and empty from sleep. She doesn’t see the mammoth on the table at first, she goes straight to the coffee machine.

Then, in the corner of the kitchen you don’t see from the door, Nicky huffs; it’s actually a muffled word interrupted in its beginning by an elbow in the stomach. It’s a sound that happens often in their shared life, Andy recognises it immediately.

Andy turns and sees Nile, Joe and Nicky, all three with very unusual expressions: Nicky is smiling broadly, Joe looks worried, Nile’s face is impassively blank. They’re still in night clothes, only Nicky is wearing an apron over his worn gray t-shirt. The air smells of blini. She follows Nicky’s eyes and only then she sees the mammoth.

It’s not small, it’s the size of a small koala. The eyes are black shiny buttons, taken from an old coat, the fabric is not always the same, it’s a patchwork. Andy recognises the brown fabric of one of Nicky’s favourite hoodies, the silk of an old beautiful scarf Yusuf bought in Paris. She takes it in her hands and is surprised by how soft but solid it is. It’s handmade, Nicky’s work unmistakable in the perfect sequence of identical stitches, but with Joe’s eye for colour. The thread is not only brown but also orange, gray, purple. Andy looks at it and despite her reputation of hardened warrior she finds it adorable. Mine, the girl who grew up thousands of years ago screams, it’s so cute.

She is speechless. She doesn’t let go of the mammoth but opens the notebook on the table in a silence of happy anticipation. They worked on this for a month, she realises. The cover of the notebook is black, familiar: Yusuf has had many notebooks like this one. But the first drawing she sees takes her by surprise. It’s not Yusuf’s style, it’s black strong lines and warm colours, the complete picture is surprisingly soft. Nile did this.

It’s a drawing of Andy, Nicky and Joe on the sofa, Andy has her head on Joe’s lap and pokes Nicky’s laughing face with her foot. It’s a memory. Three weeks ago.

She starts flipping the pages and she has already accepted that she will cry, she feels the tears coming.

There’s Quỳnh drawn by Yusuf’s hand, devotion and affection in his lines, in the red used to colour her vest. There’s a green lake painted with Yusuf’s watercolours in a mix of both styles, the result just like Andy remembers it. There’s Nicky dressed as an undertaker with the short moustache that made Andy laugh every time she saw it. Nile and Andy playing chess on a bench, Nile holding the black rook in her hand with a delighted smile, Andy frowning but smiling as well with challenge in her eyes. Yusuf drew them and Nile coloured, added the light filtering between the branches above them.

There’s Booker and Joe watching tv that night near Paris. It’s not coloured, but it feels like a promise, a concession.

There’s Lykon as Andy described it to Nile. The smile is so perfect that for a moment Andy wonders if Nile ever dreamt of Lykon despite the fact that he’s been dead for centuries.

She is crying now, full sobs. They’re all memories, reality through her eyes.

The last few pages are all mammoths and other animals from Earth as it once was.


“Fucking mammoths,” Andy laughs and cries, finally. “You made me cry with fucking mammoths.”


They were waiting for this signal. In a moment, they’re all hugging her, and Andy cries but she’s happy, she’s mortal, she’s alive, she’s not alone. She holds the stupid stuffed mammoth. The others hold her.



(In her room, her phone buzzes. It’s Booker’s phone.


Quỳnh is alive with me. We’re waiting for you in Paris.)

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1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?
right now? noah kahan’s whole cape elizabeth ep, boston by dermot kennedy, glory by dermot kennedy, safe by all time low, unsaid emily from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack even though it fucks me up emotionally, a little bit longer by the jonas brothers. 

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.
i dont have a physical book anywhere near me, so imma do this on the epub version of these witches dont burn by isabel sterling. 

“i want to be home, in bed, where i can hide the tears pressing behind my eyes.” a whole mood, if you ask me. 

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?
what if i had never trusted the person who hurt me the most, would i be better off for it? 

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?
i can not, i have a ridiculously short tongue. 

send me personal asks. 

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oh siyeon she’s so great and I love her;;; but woojin….I’ve had a crush on him since pd101 he really is so ideal I remember seeing him for the first time and I was <333 I remember him saying he was bad at making friends and was awkward, too relatable then you get to know him and his chaotic behaviour….yeah love him <3333

send me 2 idols and i’ll choose which one is more of my ideal type

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7: What’s your strangest talent?
bullshitting? is that a talent? i can literally bullshit papers and stuff for school or work like an absolute boss if need be. haha. 

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?
the jonas brothers, do not judge me. 

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?
yes, on both counts. 

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
yes, and thats something i get from my mother. my mom remembers that one time you upset her in the third grade and im the exact same way. especially if its someone who genuinely majorly hurt me/traumatized me. i never forget a single bad thing ever said about me. you could tell me a thousand good things, but the thing i’ll remember is the one thing you said in an attempt to hurt me. 

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?
you get what you give by new radicals. 

send me personal asks

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Thank you!!!

As much as I’m loving writing all this smut, I am starting to feel the beginnings of a burn out. I don’t usually write a whole lot, so this has been a bit of a strain on my creativity; it’s been taking a real toll. Also, I do have other stories that I’ve put aside in order to participate in spite smut that I would absolutely love to return to (dance!fic anybody?). There’s so much to write and so little time!

In the end, I’m super happy you are loving the smut. It’s been a lot of fun to write! I am hoping to write three more stories before end of October and then I have a long-ish piece I want to write for Rylen at some point this year. I hope to tie you over until the next time I feel smutty ;)

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harkasunAnswer

Thank you and absolutely!! 👑

Royal AU

(You picked a good one here - and by ‘good’ I mean ‘I will actually be posting this after I finish my current multi-chapters’!)

Alec chuckled and let Magnus overpower him, allowing himself to be manhandled to his back. Magnus pinned his wrists against the leaf-strewn ground, grinning down at him. His breaths were elevated slightly. The air between them was growing steadily hotter.

“I believe you’ve caught me, your highness,” said Alec, swallowed hard when Magnus’s smile grew wider.

“Well,” Magnus uttered, blinking slow and purposeful. “Whatever shall I do with my prey?”

Alec fought to quell the trembling that threatened to take his body. “I’m sure a prince may do whatever he likes.”

Royalty AU (Masquerade Ball)

There was a presence behind him and Alec sighed, turning and expecting his mother, come to chide him for leaving the ball. The heavy exhale hitched and caught in his throat as he recognised the figure stood before him. The cat-masked man.

“Forgive me,” the man uttered. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Bejewelled fingers lifted to his face and pulled the mask away, revealing dark skin and a handsome expression. It was Magnus, prince of Edom, and he had barely aged. It had been ten years, but scarcely half of that time showed on Magnus’s face.

“I… Your highness,” said Alec, bowing as his mother had taught him so long ago.

Ask me about my WIPs for my 400 follower celebration!

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a thank-you!

I just hit a HUGE follower milestone, so I just wanted to thank everyone for your support!

It’s been a quick 2 month since I accidentally fell into Star Wars hell. As an artist, I couldn’t resist wanting to draw fanart, but I was too embarrassed even try, let alone post it anywhere, hence this “anon” dummy account.

This account was original just meant to archive SW art, and I wasn’t sure if anyone was going to see it. The SW Fandom has a reputation for being kinda crazy and terrifying, but you guys have been nothing but warm, lovely, and responsive to my silly art woes.

A huge shout out to @/tessiete for her wonderful writing and warm welcome into the community. Without her, I would have never had the cowardly courage to make this account 😬💦

Thank you all, again! This whole experience has been a pleasant surprise, and I hope to stick around for much longer!

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Does anyone know the title of the fic where the government gets hold of Charles post Cuba, declares him dead but actually turns him into a Winter Soldier like assassin? I’ve been thinking about it all day!

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hey anon this is so great to hear it’s fantastic that you’ve been able to better understand your own identity!! i can definitely relate; it took me a long time to come to terms with my sexuality and there are still times that i question how i feel, but being able to connect my experiences with a label has been super comforting & having others to support you throughout your journey is so important. i’m incredibly happy for you and my inbox and dms are always open if you need or want someone to talk to about it further! sending so much love <3

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😂😂😂 your ask is my command!


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Sancha is named after her late grandmother who was born in Mexical and its a lovely name. Except growing up as a kid in DSV its rather unfortunate since a Sancha is slang for a side ho. Her friends growing up would call her Sanchee or Sunny instead to save her some embarrassment.


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Sancha’s grampa was a Ranchero and she spent a lot of time taking care of the ranch with him. She knows how to butcher chickens, make a fire, prepare water for drinking, and knows a bit about animal tracks.


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She loves her record player and goes for anything that will sound super vibe on it. The Marías, Japanther, Damien Jurado, TV On the Radio.


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It was a good childhood but lonely. She was quiet so was an easy target to get picked on. She had a few friends but none that would be considered best friends. Spending time with her grampa really was the highlight of her childhood.


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She is in the corner, but usually a conversation will start up and then she’s telling a story and suddenly she has most of the rooms attention and is in the middle of the room.


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“OH! W-wow? Really?” Gives a huge hug and probably squishes the flowers in the process.


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Shes organized but you’ll find books EVERYWHERE.


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She loves the night time, especially by the beach, camping sites, or boho areas of town where there are lights and quite hums of people. She could sit and cuddle with her doggy tulip at night on the beach and watch sims having fun by bonfire light for hours.

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I was tagged by @mudmolars thank you!! 🖤

honey and lemon or milk and sugar // musicals or plays // lemonade or iced tea // strawberries or raspberries // winter or summer // beaches or forests // diners or cafés // unicorns or dragons // gemstones or crystals // hummingbirds or owls // fireworks or sparklers // brunch or happy hour // sweet or sour // rome or amsterdam // classic or modern art // sushi or ramen // sun or moon // polka dots or stripes // macaroons or croissants // glitter or matte // Degas or Seurat // aquariums or planetariums // road trip or camping trip  // coloring books or water color // fairy lights or candles

I tag @horrorlesbians @wormvendor @cactusrats and @bisexywill

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