Monkeh, 28, F, England

Everyone's Grandma. Probably your grandma too.

This is a multifandom blog, including: SnK, Game of Thrones, Hannibal, Final Fantasy, Psycho-Pass, Breath of Fire, Firefly, MGS, X-Files, cats, other stuff too.

I really, really like Connie Springer.
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New MGSV Ground Zeroes themed HDD covers for PlayStation 4 revealed by Kojima


I miss Pazadornov.

Pazadornov was hot as hell.

Paging Zadoorknobs and Thryse!

My hips and I thank you both muchly <3


* +山奥と親友 By:ma@萬 Please DO NOT remove the source.
niuniente asked: 7 Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. 13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? 14.What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Since this is a fanfic-writer’s thing, I’ll share something from an old fic:

Arthur scrambles to his feet. He still has Eames’ gun. The cold, sharp angles of the weapon feel alien beneath his fingers; he has never been a fan of firearms. They are too impersonal, too automatic. They take away the thrill of the fight. Nonetheless, he flicks off the safety and aims carefully at Eames’ left knee.

"Keep perfectly still," he says. His voice is low and steady, despite the hollow ache low in his stomach and the rhythmic throb of his bruised jaw. Eames is perfectly motionless save for the perpetual motion of his eyes as he tries to manufacture a getaway plan.

Arthur is completely prepared when Eames leaps at him, fists bunched, and drives his shoulder low into Eames’ stomach; they clash soundlessly in mid-air, and Eames falls to the floor, his back arching as he hits the cold stone. The air rushes from his lungs in one violent burst.

He has straddled Eames before he is even aware of his own actions. His knees pin Eames’ forearms firmly to the ground. The warmth of him between his thighs is delicious.

Arthur pushes the muzzle into the concavity of Eames’ throat, and the other man smirks in spite of himself, his lips spreading slowly outwards into a full half-moon. His crooked teeth, Arthur thinks, are so fucking infuriating, and he suppresses a sudden urge to slip the muzzle between those lips, to watch Eames choke on cold steel. He is not quite so sadistic.

"You enjoy this, don’t you?" Eames says. It’s not a question. He knows he is right; it is written all over Arthur’s face, in the dark glimmer of his eyes, the fine thread of blood running from his mouth. Arthur smiles without warmth. His teeth flash white, like a fox caught at the kill.

"Yes," he replies, and Eames’ breath catches as the gun presses hard against his throat. "I suppose I do."

There is a long moment in which they stay locked in motionless combat, punctuated beautifully by Eames’ pained gasps, and the sleek curve of Arthur’s exposed hipbones jutting just above his slack waistband. “You and I,” Eames rasps, his voice barely audible, “are probably meant to be.”

Arthur leans forward. The pressure from the gun is unbearable now. Eames’ vision starts to blur at the edges, fading slowly to grey as Arthur’s lips brush against his. Eames feels Arthur’s tongue tracing the unsteady contours of his teeth, barely perceptible in the last threads of consciousness. He tastes blood, and knows it isn’t his.

"Maybe we are," he says, and his lips are stained scarlet, a bloody slash.

- You Had Time To Waste (And I’m Not Sorry) (on AO3)

It’s a long passage but at the time I wrote it (maybe 3-4 years ago now?) I’d never really attempted much in the way of ‘action’ scenes, and I was really pleased with the way I’d written it. I always feel a bit awkward talking up my own writing, lol, but even though I look at it now and think I could write the same passage a lot better, I still think I did a good job of weaving violence and a weird intimacy - almost sensuality. Not bad for a first attempt, anyway ;)

14. The worst advice I was ever given is one that’s down to interpretation - ‘write what you know’. Taken at face value it’s awful advice because writing is about imagination, about putting your characters in weird and wonderful places and situations, and about getting into the heads of people who aren’t you. If we only all ‘wrote what we knew’, you’d end up with an awful lot of very limited stories.

Now, where I do agree with this advice is that if you are going to write about something you’re not familiar with, research is your best and most valuable friend. Write with respect and with an open mind, and with a great many books to hand, and you’ll be fine.






Guh, flawless. Non-Westernised interpretations of the steampunk genre FTW. 


I’ve been REALLY wanting to see an Indian take on Steampunk so I am so pleased you have no idea

Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women for the money. And it made her miserable.

As a young writer, Alcott concentrated on lurid pulp stories of revenge, murder, and adultery–“blood and thunder” literature, as she called i–and enjoyed writing very much. She was in her mid 30s when an editor suggested she try writing a book for girls. Alcott wasn’t very interested, but her father was a complete moron with money and had left the family in terrible financial trouble. Alcott wrote Little Women in hopes of some decent sales and a little breathing room and got way more than she asked for. The money in sequels was too good to turn down (and her father didn’t get any smarter with a dime), but Alcott hated writing what she called “moral pap for the young” and longed to return to the smut and violence of her early endeavors.