like i 90% of the time cant physically stand to think about silver but in the end i feel like his character says something about the banality of evil, like all other interpretations bring great stuff to the table, but in the end it was him inflicting his giving up on other people and i cant fucking ever abide by that
Me, a humble fic farmer, tending her plot of land: neighbor john said there was a shipwar starting just over the hills. what do you think Ma, do you think we’ll ever see a shipwar?
Ma, clutching her apron to her chest: oh dear, I hope not!
Pa, sitting in his rocking chair and smoking his pipe: hmph! there’s always been shipwars and there will always be shipwars. you just keep your nose out of it and mind your own business. we ain’t got no business messing around in shipwars. now step to it! i want that field of headcanons and plot twists plowed by morning! and keep those plot bunnies from getting at the smut, we can’t afford anymore WIPs!
My sincerest apologies on the delay in answering on my part – the new job’s really kicking my butt when it comes to my energy levels. I can’t possibly express how much this means to me, though – I’m sitting here kind of dumbstruck that my writing’s being used as an example of how it’s done. Thank you for your support and your kind words – they mean so very much. I’m hoping to get more fic to you soon – I’m fully aware that it’s been far too long since I updated on my longer things!
The British Fleet starts its approach soon after first light: one of a
set of four superb Trafalgar images created in 1875 by the London-based
French painter Auguste Ballin.
Meg's Mumbles 