“how Did You Get Into Writing” Girl Nobody Gets Into Writing. Writing Shows Up One Day At Your Door

Our Japanese class found it funny that in common terminology "food" isn't very distinguished from specifically "rice" until it was pointed out to us that in English "meal" is "loose roughly ground grain"

periods are medieval honestly. like sorry I got suicidal last night turns out I had too much blood in me. yeah no some of it fell out and I'm fine now.

"You don't know me. I'm not the same person anymore."

"That's okay. I'll get to know you again."

2025

BE A STUDENT OF WHAT YOU ADMIRE

DO IT BADLY RATHER THAN NOT AT ALL

TO DESPAIR IS TO CEDE VICTORY TO THOSE WHO DO NOT DESERVE IT

BROADEN YOUR CULTURAL HORIZONS

REVEL IN THE ANALOGUE

ACTION ABSORBS ANXIETY

GRIEF IS PRODUCTIVE; GUILT IS NOT

See, our first mistake was trying to have a civilization in northern Europe between October and February. The darkest three months of the year should be for staying home under the blankets, midwinter festivals, and getting blind drunk when the sun goes down at 4 pm like the bog gods intended.

NEVER listen to fiction podcastst they put viruses in your brain called FICTION PODCAST. BEWARE!!!

✨COMPLETE✨

A hand grasped his arm, sending a brief thrill down Merlin's nerves as he was forced around to face the person behind him. Armour gleamed in the firelight: supple chainmail glinted, and the solid iron of a pauldron curved lovingly over one broad shoulder. The length of a sword blade separated them. The point hovered, steady and sure, over Merlin's heart, braced to run him through, but he did not care about any of that. He was too busy drinking in the sight of the man before him. He could never forget him, no matter how many centuries had passed. 'Arthur?' When Merlin ultimately fails in his destiny, the fading remnants of magic that linger in the modern world fling him not just back in time, but sideways as well. He ends up in a Camelot where all his friends are alive, well and aware of his magic. He ends up in a Camelot where his alternate self died almost a year ago. Can he, Arthur and their friends still forge the golden age he was once promised, or will grief and suspicion tear them apart?

It's finally done. I just posted the hundredth, and final, chapter on AO3. A huge thank you to everyone who has joined me on this ride. I'm delighted to have been part of your lives in some small way. 💖

If you enjoyed this fic, I'd love a reblog to help spread awareness that it's finally done 🙏