For breadcrumbs I usually just take a bag of croutons and smash them with a hammer.
….okay well that sounds satisfying as fuck, NEXT TIME I NEED BREADCRUMBS THAT IS TOTALLY THE PLAN
seekanewerworld asked: Do you have a link for the coda you wrote for Avalanche of Detour Signs? I can't find it and I desperately want to reread it.
Oh, yes! It’s here; I totally forgot I wrote this, I’ll try to edit it and put it up on Ao3 as a coda tonight <3
The Jeep shrieks around the corner, blue as it’s ever been, bumps a curb and misses a cone. It skids to a stop an inch from Derek’s left boot, and that’s on purpose—it always has been, after all.
“Get in,” says Stiles, and Derek does.
—
Stiles drives like he talks like he fights like he lives: reckless. He throws the gearshift like it’s the winning shot in one of those lacrosse games he never quite managed to play, and Derek keeps his eyes on the road. If he looks to his right, the countryside will stream by fast enough to make him dwell on the word fleeting; if he looks to his left, he’ll have to stare at the way Stiles’ fingers tighten and release on the steering wheel. They’re old habit, run in, the two of them in this bone-tired machine, and Derek knows there’s value in that. Derek knows that breaking patterns leads to chaos. Derek knows he doesn’t know very much.
seekanewerworld asked: Out of curiosity, do you have headcanon about who Clint is with in RFA/Shortcut 'verse? Coulson, Darcy, Bruce? (BTW, I love your Tony meta to pieces but that is not the point of this ask!)
I CAN NEVER DECIDE, WHICH IS WHY I HAVE NEVER STATED IT CLEARLY. I CAN SEE HIM WITH ALL THREE OF THEM. AND ALSO WITH THOR. AND ALSO WITH AN OC. AND ALSO SINGLE.
augh honestly i ship that man with everybody including himself, it’s such a problem
Tony Stark is a lot of men when he’s at home; this Bruce learns quickly, watching him flit from flirtation to frigidity in the bat of an eyelash. He’s a genius until he steps into the spotlight, and in the shadows he’s something else entirely, something smaller and weaker and less armored by a long shot. Bruce has grown (and grown, and grown) out of the idea that you can change someone simply by wanting to. He has been schooled in the futility of mind over matter. He doesn’t watch the levels of the bottles behind Tony’s bar, because it would be pointless, fruitless. Because it wouldn’t mean anything if they changed. Because it would mean too much if they didn’t.
Bruce knows from unstable compounds, after all. He does his work. He bides his time. He waits for the explosion.
Torn between “YAY GO YOU!” and just now getting that The Only Living Boy in New York was autobiographical. BUT STILL YAY YOU!
Ahahahahahahaha, uh, no, I promise, it wasn’t. Like. At all. I wasn’t even at this job when I wrote that story! And, while I have worked for law firms, I am not now and will never be a lawyer. This is actually, upsettingly, a case of “I wrote a story about someone hating their job and then ended up doing a job I FUCKING HATED,” not the reverse. So my triumphant life experience remains untainted by my fanfiction! Hooray, etc. :D
The truth is, I'll probably be rumbling and stumbling for the rest of my days, rocking to voicemail while the chaos around me rages on. It's nothing compared to to chaos within me, after all--I write stories.
And, look, I'm quite out of my mind, actually, but people tend to find me amusing? I can't imagine why, unless it's morbid fascination.
can u smell it tho
it’s the smell of trek fics being written
1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It...
”
Boy records interview with his...
