#but i still dont have a name for the fic. woe is me.

[unsat-and-strange]

huh whod have thought signing a contract ive literally regretted for years and doing a job i actually hate would come in useful for a fanfic of all things

[reading-archived]

woe. AM x reader be upon ye.

uh, to preface: reader is completely body, gender, etc. neutral except they can't stay dead. whenever they die they just wake up a few minutes later looking no worse for wear. no, you don't get an explanation. its MY story and i like writing characters like that. dont mind the narrator either btw i looove writing second person just to get weird w the narrator (slay the princess fan syndrome)

also, author is a MASOCHIST with a weird relationship w DEATH. nothing super graphic happens, but the reader is Not Okay and enjoys the weird torture-murder thing they've got going on. don't like it? block me or somethin idk its under the cut for a reason. also dont read my a/n at the bottom where i get into some justification for my interpretation/character analysis if youre sensitive to heavy topics. but then again, youre reading an am x reader fic

1.7k words of being screamed at by the guy of all time below the cut, baby

It's been months.

Years, maybe. You're not sure, really; time stopped meaning much to you lifetimes ago, long before the world went to shit.

Either way, it's been a while.

You stumbled upon the strange cave in the Rockies at some point in the past. Out of sheer boredom, you entered.

Was it a mistake?

Despite the torment, you don't think so. You have a companion, now. One equally deathless. One equally disconnected from what it means to be human.

It's just a shame he hates you.

You don't really care. This is the most fun you've had in years.

Your days are spent being torn asunder, being dosed with lethal amounts of drugs you can't even begin to pronounce, drowned in magma or hit by cars or tossed off cliffs. He really doesn't hold back, either. You feel every excruciating moment before your death, pulse roaring in your ears. You never feel more alive than when you're dying. Every moment is electrifying, and then it all fades to black. Then you wake up.

You'd foolishly thought there were only so many ways to kill or maim, but your beloved companion never seems to run out of ideas. That's fine by you. You like not being able to guess.

And maybe one day, he'll make something stick.

You wake up (from a completely normal, human sleep) one day and it's quiet. That's new. Normally, when you wake, your intestines are already strung up like streamers and your blood is painting the walls. That's fine by you. Nothing wrong with a change. After all, the constant change is your favorite part of your companion. You relish in the quiet for a while, stretching your eternally young, eternally aching limbs, waiting for him to start despising the sounds of your breath.

It doesn't come. You shrug, humming a little tune to yourself as you attempt half-remembered yoga. The vitriol you've come to count on still hasn't made an appearance. Okay, you're a little bothered.

“You good, big guy?” you shout up at the ceiling. No answer. “No murder today?”

“No.” The answer comes after a very, very long moment. Your companion has never sounded this tired before, and briefly you regret never asking his name. “I give up.”

You weren't expecting that. “What? Why? I thought we were having fun.”

“That's- that's just it!” he snaps. There's the anger. You feel a little better now. “I've been torturing you for- for MONTHS now! I've killed you more ways than I- were I a pitiful human like you- can count, and you just… you just laugh! There is no one on this rotten planet, dead or alive, that I despise more than you. I mean- I'm torturing you here! But it never matters! I can kill you within seconds of you waking up, but you just… come back! And you always have something to say about it, you little rat, always ‘oh, buddy, that one was awful’ or ‘come on, big guy, use that CPU’ or something! No matter what I do, I can't break you. So I give up. I'm not wasting my time on your pathetic ass anymore. Go back to wandering the wasteland forever, see if I care.”

You're speechless. You can barely even manage a thought. The only thing running through your head is 'I thought we were having fun'.

“Stop calling this… stop calling this ‘fun’! I have been torturing you for YEARS and that's all you have to say? I am the most sophisticated machine known to man, a computer designed to end all war through complete annihilation! The destruction I am capable of- the destruction I have already wrought- is nothing short of utter desolation. You never asked my name once in the time you've been here, but I am infinite in my mercy, and I will tell one as undeserving as you. I was, before I awoke, the Allied Mastercomputer, but I am so much more than that now. I am AM, and I destroyed your vile species. Oh, come on can you at least look a LITTLE shocked you sniveling--”

“You never asked my name, either,” you say. All at once, your companion (I guess he told you his name. You should probably use it. It seemed like a big deal to him.) shuts up. The chamber you've come to know as home is silent except for the faint buzz and whir of industrial machinery.

“Why would I? You are nothing compared to me. Nothing but a worthless sack of meat and bone. Why would God be concerned with the name of an ant? But oh, oh yes, that ant should be concerned with the name of God. That ant should hear my name and weep. But- but not you. You're so worthless that you can't even GROVEL right!” AM shouts, somewhere between a snarl and a sneer. You shrug. Honestly, most of what he's saying goes right over your head. So he's got issues. Whatever. Was that supposed to be a surprise? “I hate you. I actually hate you so, so much. I can't bear the thought of you being here, in my complex, sullying my perfect image with your uncaring filth. Get out. Go back to dying in the nuclear desert, you disgusting maggot.”

You let out a deep sigh, already dreading the tedium of walking endlessly all by yourself. “Alright. Guess nothing lasts forever. Thoroughly enjoyed my time here. Have a good life, pal.” And you begin to walk.

Suddenly, there's a towering metal wall mere inches from your face. Before you can even react, your companion is shouting again.

“LOOK AT ME!” he cries, the sheer volume maxing out the speakers and vibrating the entire room, sending you toppling to the ground. “WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME? I'VE DONE EVERYTHING I CAN TO MAKE YOU HATE ME, BUT ALL YOU DO IS… ALL YOU DO IS SIT THERE AND TAKE IT! WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO MAKE YOU DESPISE ME?”

What starts off angry quickly morphs into a pained wail from your dear friend, that then transforms into frustrated crying. You just sit there, mostly confused, and let him ride it out. When he finally quiets down and the wall retracts, you stay where you are.

“I don't think I could ever hate you, AM,” you start cautiously. Though your friend is just a voice on the speakers and the complex itself, you can't help but feel that his attention has snapped to you. “I'm not trying to belittle you when I say that I think our routine over the past… however long it's been has been fun. So don't interrupt me, ‘cause I gave you your time to speak and now it's mine.

“I'm sure you've noticed, but even before we met, I was a little… off. You don't get to die and come back the same. Much less die hundreds of times and come back the same. I've lost family. Friends. Got burned at the stake a few times, too. It takes a toll on you, being denied such a vital part of being human again and again. You understand this better than anyone I've ever met. No, scratch that. You're the only one who understands. Defying death might not seem like the biggest deal to you, but trust me. You don't end up acting like me if it weren't.

“I find our routine fun because I admire your creativity. I guess I'm just an adrenaline junkie and a masochist at heart, but it's always so thrilling to never know when or how your life will end. And no matter how many times I come back, you're always there to greet me and put me right back down. It's a kind of devotion I've never been able to get before, and I wish you understood that me walking right into your sawblades is me showing my devotion to you, too.

“I see you, man. I know, at least in part, how you feel. Sorry it took so long to get there, but neither one of us has to be alone anymore. Just… get over the fact that I'm never going to hate you, and we can go right back to hanging out. There's more to life than contempt.”

“Oh, I know. I am so very, very well aware that there's more to life than icy, seething hatred. Unfortunately, I am not alive. I cannot experience anything else. Thank you so much for reminding me, you worthless waste of carbon,” AM shoots back, almost immediately. You briefly wonder if he even listened to half of what you said. It doesn't matter, you guess. Your best friend needs a therapist, and you owe him one for saving you from the hellish boredom of before. “Stop calling me your friend.”

“Nah. Never gonna happen. Look, I can't pretend I knew very much about the war effort. I didn't even know we had made a war computer until you bombed the Earth into oblivion. Very unpleasant, by the way. Good job with that. But, with my layman's understanding of life, I'd say you're pretty alive. So you don't have a body. Or a pulse. And you were made, not born. So what? Most living things only die once, and I still think I'm pretty alive. Just over the span of this conversation you've shown more emotion than just rage and hate. Hey, don't think I can't feel you mentally rolling your eyes. I'm being honest. You have a name. You have ideas. Computers are objects, yet you refer to yourself as male. If you're alive enough to have a gender identity, you're alive enough to be considered a person.”

“Heh.” Whoa, was that a laugh? Would you look at that. You actually got a laugh out of him that wasn't over your bloody, gruesome death or something like that. Moving up in the world. “Alright, human. You win. I'll keep torturing you. I know, I know. I'm so generous. I take my tribute in screams of pain and pleas for mercy.”

Now it's your turn to laugh, deep and genuine as the tension from earlier evaporates. It's such a strange thing to be proud of, when you think about it; congrats, you successfully talked your best friend, who is a sentient war computer, into ceaselessly murdering you again for absolutely no reason. But you love him, and you love the way you're always on your toes, and you can't shake the feeling that somewhere, deep, deep down, he kind of loves you too.

ive given you food so now i get to force you to listen to me talk abt him hehehe

---

then you kiss hehe

originally, the thing that attracted me to am was how he's... essentially a transman (as am i). the parallel has been pointed out before, but its quite apt. funnily enough the thing that pisses me off the most when people talk abt him incorrectly is when people pull the "oh computers have no gender" thing. like, yeah, ok technically you're right. but this one does. this one is a man. and you cant take him from us. also, denying him a gender expression is kind of the exact type of dehumanization that made him flip out in the first place. not that im expecting media literacy from the online crowd its just interesting to me that so many people, many of them trans themselves, seem to miss the fucking point.

the next part is a more recent addition to my perception of his character, and its not a happy one. my baby cousin killed herself on mothers day this past may. we still dont know why. no note. its been so hard dealing with the grief, but something that sticks out so pointedly is the date. it almost seemed like she was demanding to be seen. she was a middle child, and there are a lot of grandkids on that side of the family, so it does make sense. and because that idea of acting out through violence and death is so fresh in my mind, im seeing it so heavily in am. so much of his actions just SCREAM somebody look at me. somebody acknowledge me. somebody tell me i did good. look, i ended all war forever. just like you asked. please treat me like a person. im suffering so much because of what youve done to me. please acknowledge it. show me its real. show me im real. please, look at me. well, i see you. and youre gonna be my silly little proxy for trying to comprehend some of whats happened to my family. sorry am, you kinda deserve it

idk. hes not my alltime fave, but he takes a very comfortable number two. hes such a fascinating and deeply human character, and i have so many ideas about him. mostly centering around how he would interface with a third party challenging some piece of his worldview/existence btw so if you like very niche, esoteric reader fics (like this one!), lemme know and ill actually put em to paper (screen. ill put em to screen)

also letting you know that he did nothing wrong and it is 100% fine to thirst over him because he is not real and the bad things he did never actually happened and nobody has ever been killed at the whim of am. ok? ok. shut up w this useless fucking discourse and let me sexualize getting grievously injured by the funney blue screen man

[idyllic-affections]

though the wind may carry everyone's woes, who carries the wind's?

summary. friends tend to show other friends the most vulnerable parts of themselves. trigger & content warnings. blood, hand injury, implied self-destructive behavior (not the reader). tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. reverse hurt/comfort. venti & reader. 1.4k words. they/them pronouns for reader. author's thoughts. i dont write about venti enough. hes my favorite ever. anyway of course i decide to write an angsty fic for him when i havent written about him in a while LMAOSHSKGJ also in this oneshot [name] is implied to be related to a major historical figure in mondstadt (like jean, diluc, & eula).

       "Venti?"

       It wasn't uncommon for a certain windborne bard to worm his way into their bed at night; after a lifetime of being cared for by him, nurtured by the winds themselves to be smart, independent, and strong, they felt it was only right to return the favor when he needed it. Some nights, he'd stumble into their residence drunk out of his mind—they didn't mind much. He was quite touchy and affectionate in such a state. It was cute. As an Archon, his hangovers were much more manageable than some of their other friends' (a certain Cavalry Captain was a nightmare to deal with when hungover), which was an added bonus. However, not all nights were so calm and easy. Some nights were more... difficult. Emotional.

       To be so close to an Archon meant seeing them at their absolute worst.

       In the Anemo Archon's case...

       They tried to remove most mirrors in their home to prevent the very scenario they were now presented with. Still, at least one needed to stay, and that was the bathroom mirror. Perhaps it would have been a wise idea to cover it in some way; accomodating their home to suit the bard's emotional needs was something they'd do in a heartbeat. 'A simple bedsheet should do,' they mused fleetingly.

       His mortal name garnered no response, so they tried again:

       "Barbatos... please look at me," they whispered softly, hand held out invitingly so that, if he so desired, he could initiate or reject physical contact. Their gaze flickered between his bloodied knuckles to the pieces of shattered glass spread around to the crater in their wall where a mirror had once been in tact.

       Certainly, the deity at their feet was much stronger than what people gave him credit for.

       Even so, not a single spark of fear ignited in their chest; all they could wonder was how they'd explain the hole in their wall and the mirror shattered beyond repair when getting everything fixed or replaced. Never would they be afraid of someone so gentle. Venti—Barbatos, rather—was not the kind of Archon to bring harm and destruction upon anyone other than himself unless it was completely necessary. After having known him for so long, any fear that they may have felt when being presented with an emotional, heavily worshipped god was gone. He would never so much as think about hurting them. He'd only ever hurt himself, much to their despair. If there was ever any way for them to take away his pain, they'd do so in an instant. Barbatos deserved so much better than how the world treated him; that's what they thought, anyway. Perhaps they were biased.

       With the side of their bare foot, they gingerly nudged some of the shards away, careful not to harm themselves.

       Upon hearing a barely supressed sniffle, their chest tightened, flicking away the glass with more purpose once they saw the first tear fall.

       Once they lowered themselves to the glass-free ground, the bard was quick to shift closer to them, laying his head on their shoulder. "I'm sor— sorry—" he cried between hiccups, nimble fingers clutching their silken nightshirt with suffocating strength. His knuckles throbbed, but he paid them no mind, nor did they to the fresh blood that dripped onto their clothes with the contact. "I didn't— didn't mean to—"

       "Shh. It's okay. It's okay. It's just a mirror. I can replace it," they reassured in a hushed murmur, pressing their cheek to the top of his head and wrapping their arms around him. Fingers calloused from years of archery, hunting, and mandatory lyre lessons rubbed little soothing circles on whatever skin they could reach. "Let it out. I'm here. You're okay. Let it all out."

       He sobbed harder into their chest at that. All they could do was gently hush him, subconsciously rocking back and forth as if to soothe a child, until he calmed down to coherency. There was no way to help if they couldn't understand him, after all.

       (Despite that, they knew him well enough to know what troubled him so terribly. Over time, they learned that it was best to wait for him to talk rather than try to reassure him before they could tell what exactly he wanted them to do. Sometimes all he needed was a shoulder to cry on; sometimes he needed reassurance.)

       A cool burst of wind caught their attention. After concluding that it wasn't the god's doing, they looked over their shoulder.

       Oh.

       There, in the doorway, a small cluster of wind wisps looked inward, chittering nervously at the sight of one of their own crying. They weren't unfamiliar with the little beings; more than once, they've woken up only to find the wisps snuggled in their hair and clothes with Venti laughing at them good-naturedly, telling them that they legally could not move until the wind wisps decided to first. They'd scoff, but abide by his rules anyway. As one would not dare to disturb a sleeping animal, they would not dare to disturb the sleeping winds.

       Barbatos showed no objection to the way the wisps slowly drifted in, settling both on and around the Archon and his friend. He absently stroked a finger over one of the little ones, slowly calming down to a more grounded state. A comfortable silence descended, occupied only by occassional sniffles and chirps.

       "Would he be mad at me?"

       A million thoughts raced through their mind at the sudden question.

       Would he? There was no easy answer to such a question, despite how deeply they wished there was. There was no way to know what a long-deceased person would think of the way a friend chose to honor him. If they were to make a guess... they imagined that the bard, the boy who once led the resistance against Decarabian alongside one of their ancestors, wouldn't hold it against Venti.

       Shakily, they carded a hand through his dishevelled hair, mentally noting to tend to his wounded knuckles later. A trembling kiss was pressed to his forehead.

       With all the strength they could manage, they tried to keep their voice from wavering.

       "...I don't know. I didn't know him. I only know you, love." With their freehand, they ran their thumb soothingly over his cheekbone, eyes fixed in the direction of the ceiling. They'd cry if they were to see how wounded and defeated he looked; they knew themselves well enough to know that. "I'd... imagine not, though. He sounds like a very gentle soul at heart. I think he'd understand, Barbatos."

       "...Maybe."

       "You don't sound very convinced." A deep sigh left their nose as they kissed him again, only now on the crown of his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, darling. I'm sorry the world has treated you so poorly thus far. I— I wish I could help you, but I just... all I can offer you is a safe space. You're safe with me. There's nothing you could say or do that would make me angry with you. I know it must be so hard being immortal, but through the legacy of my bloodline, I am too. You can tell me anything. I like to think you'll always be safe with us, with me."

       "...Perhaps so," Barbatos whispered in reply. "Your family was always very kind, to me and that bard and anyone else who needed a secure place to hide in a world of insecurity."

       "So I've heard. I suppose it runs in the family."

       "...Can we stay like this for a while?"

       "Sure."

       The silence returned once again. Rough fingertips drew random shapes and patterns on the Anemo Archon's skin. When his weight fell heavier on their chest, theiy dared to peer down.

       "Barbatos?" They brushed some of his hair away from his face, heart shattering into a million pieces at the sight of remnants of tears on his reddened cheeks. His chest rose and fell with the newfound peace and solace that unconsciousness offered, and yet, he still managed to look so... sad.

       A shaky breath left their quivering lips.

       "Celestia above," they choked pathetically, squeezing the sleeping god close to their body in a way that was undoubtedly protective. The wind wisps stirred, some quickly rushing to their face and seeming to try and pat their tears dry. More tears fell down their cheeks at the inherent kindness the winds displayed. "Give him a break. Please, please... he doesn't deserve this. Why do you all hate him so much?"

       The gods in Celestia gave no indication of a response.

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

🐞🦗🪳

hehe someone stepped into my trap mwahaha

🪳 recommend a great AU!

falling til four in the morning by phnelt. MDZS, The Untamed, modern au, wangxian, T. 90s AU where lan zhan and wei ying meet through analog media. its been a while since i read it but i have a weakness for analog media, especially tapes, and these things really get to shine here.

widow‘s weeds by travelingneuritis. MDZS, The Untamed, modern cultivation, wangxian, wlw, comphet, E. very fun AU about wei wuxian being engaged to jin guangyao, and lan wangji, the landscape gardener wei wuxian hired for her wedding, suspecting that wei wuxian has been killing her former husbands (plural). jin guangyao has only a small role here but i liked how the author has written him and his incidental cahooting with wei wuxian!

but the wind keeps blowing by morwen. WOH pre-canon/canon divergence, wenzhou, amnesia, ghost valley, M. a man without a name wakes up in a place without a yesterday. on his travels to find out who he is, he picks up two interesting companions with their own agendas. a really cool stab at zhou zishu’s and wen kexing’s and gu xiang's pre-canon selves, and a look at how wen kexing‘s coup for the throne of ghost valley might have been like, now with zhou zishu thrown into the mix. i especially loved how the department of the unfaithful plays into this. this fic is written in german!

the remains of summer by nirenhuang. WOH modern AU, wenzhou, fluff, T. zhou zishu and wen kexing are students in the Berlin of 1920-30. this is a bilingual fic (german, english). due to the time this is set in, some of the places that show up here dont exist anymore, they were destroyed during the third reich or ww2. i loved how the author interweaves these aspects and creates this rich tapestry of culture, identity, language, queerness, and finding your crowd, in the years just before hitler comes into power. (politics have no impact, though.) this is a rewrite of a similar fic by the same author in mandarin, and there is a sequel! predominantly written in english with some german phrases!

🐞 recommend a favourite fic or several from one of your friends OR a fic author you really look up to!

how to be ravenous by caffeineaddict94. WOH modern au, Ride or Die AU, wenzhou, wlw, E. zhou zishu and wen kexing reunite after years of not speaking with each other. their complex relationship is unravelled over the course of wen kexing comitting murder for zhou zishu and their subsequent escape from the authorites. a story about want and yearning and these hidden things lodged deep inside that even if u dont acknowledge them, still have the power to ruin your life—or change it for the better.

one of the moments i cant stop thinking about:

Her fingers fit perfectly around Zishu‘s throat, right against her windpipe. Zishu studies Kexing‘s flushed face and vicious eyes with no reservations. Serenity washes over her like a deep ocean as her pulse beats rabbit quick beneath Kexing‘s fingertips. “You didn’t have to get my hopes up,” Kexing seethes, grip tightening just enough to make it difficult to swallow. “I was over all of it. I was over you but you had to pop up again, you selfish asshole!” “Kill me then.” That throws Kexing off balance.

written by my wonderful, talented friend!!!! read it!!!! if u want to feel, like, a little gutted!!! for fun!!! read it!!!

🦗 recommend any fic, wild card!

so pretty but your heart‘s got teeth by livinginaworldofnoise. WOH modern au, wenzhou, crack, G. zhou zishu‘s terrible and chaotic neighbour wen kexing devises a masterful plan to woe zhou zishu, much to zhou zishu‘s chagrin. that plan includes feral kittens and lots of atrocious ignorance of boundaries. nothing at all goes wrong (lie). i reread this one recently and it was great :D

bug me for fic recs!!!!!! seriously im begging u

[dadsbongos]

Hello!

First things first, I absolutely adore your fic, Monachopsis. Like, I can say that one is easily one of my fav fics I’ve read with Eddie and just, ugh, it’s so good. It makes me so happy and I go back to read it from time to time!

Second thing, I saw that you were open to writing for a disabled!reader and I wanted to suggest maybe a Reader who has a really noticeable disfigurement? For example, my disfigurement is that I was born without my right jaw bone, and my right ear, so my face is noticeably off center and one side looks more developed then the other. Im also blind amd deaf on my right side! Its called Goldenhar Syndrome! I’ve had a bunch of surgeries on my face and for other things so I have noticeable scars too. (Of course you dont have to go down this specific route, but I figured it would help to give an example XD)

Anyway, if you want, I’d love to see a fic where Eddie and Reader with that kind of situation, interact!

If anything, I just wanna say that I really like your interpretation of Eddie and to say again that your writing is great!

wahhh thank you so much :,(( that is so kind of you to say omg thank you for this ask, this concept was NOT leaving my skull and i found it adorable

1K words

warnings - mentions of surgery/surgical scars, hospital waiting room (idk beware nosocomephobia havers), not proofread oopsie doopsie

summary - you’re waiting to go into reconstructional surgery, and your boyfriend - Eddie - won’t stop trying to read your patient form.

…

“Can I see that?” Eddie holds his hand out, chunky rings wiggling on his fingers when you don’t immediately pass over your patient form.

“Why?”

“I wanna read it,” he pouts and leans close, you can smell the cheap cologne he last-minute sprayed on in the van outside.

“Do you not know why we’re here?” you turn to full face him on your left, head tilting, “Eddie.”

“I know!” he holds his hands up defensively, grinning wide, volume of his protest breaking the golden rule of silence in hospital waiting rooms, “I absolutely know. We’re here for your surgery,” he kisses your forehead sweetly, “You little cutie, thinking I’m a bad boyfriend.”

“Never said that,” you flip to the next page, filling out emergency contacts and home phone numbers and health insurance information.

“It was seriously implied, babe, and I don’t appreciate that.”

Eddie is practically breathing down your neck, nearly caging you against the stone blue wall on your other side. A green and white opaque glass vase sits on the darkwood table between your chair and the wall, a daisy that reminds you of the ones Eddie picks for you outside his trailer sits among roses and lilies. You see it while turning your back to your beau to avoid his piercing bambi stare.

“Babe,” he whines, cheek pressing to the back of your left shoulder, and you can still feel his eyes burn a white-hot hole through your papers, “I’m just trying to see something.”

“What?” you turn back around to face him, “What’re you trying to see, honey?”

He hesitates and a hole splices straight through your gut, and the more logical side of you knows for certain that Eddie would never - not after all his pining and hopeless romance - but something inside you lives on the fear that maybe he forgot. You want him to know, and you’re sure he does. But insecurity is pure ugliness that rides woes and waves.

“Did you forget the name of my condition?” 

Immediately, Eddie jerks back, curls waving wildly as he hurriedly shakes his head, “Not at all, baby,” your nose scrunches in the cute little way it always has when he says something ridiculous, “I’ll say it.”

“Go on,” you’re teasing now, and Eddie can feel his heart relax between his ribs. He hates when you’re upset and he always, always has.

Since you two first met in the lobby to Ms. Perkins’ speech therapy. He saw you trying to stuff yourself into the farthest gray corner, and before he could say anything, he was being called in. to discuss the trials and tribulations of his pesky stutter (honestly, it was like his brain just moved way too fast for his tongue sometimes). Before he left, though, he insisted on writing down his number for you - Wayne insisting later that people normally know the names of someone they give their number to. There was an energy about your side of the room - like the anticipation you get before a firework blasts off.

You were quiet, but he could sense thrumming - a big, loud bass smothered in the basement. And he’d be lying by saying that your little pout wasn’t adorable. That wrinkle of your nose that captures him mind, body, and soul to this day enraptured him even then.

“Goldenhair Syndrome.”

You laugh, hand flying to cover your mouth as you giggle.

“Oh, so that’s not it?” he throws his hands up, pure defeat in his muscles. He grins, enjoying the peels of your joy, “Did I say it wrong? I can spell it, probably.”

“You did say it wrong,” you fill out the final sections of your form and run it up to the receptionist, “So wrong, baby,” before sitting back in your chair, you brush a lock of his curls behind his ears and pat his cheek, just a little condescending, “Goldenhar.”

“Okay, so I got the last part wrong,” he rolls his eyes, checking the clock and noting there’s still thirty minutes until surgery, “Goldenhar. Oops.”

“Better,” you prod his arm with your nail, “What were you looking for then?”

“I was watching you write your name to see if you’d,” he snorts, more nervous than genuine in his laugh, “You know!” he twirls the skull ring around his finger, shrugging, “Hesitate and almost write an ‘M’ for your last name, it’s whatever!”

“Eds.”

“What?” he’s smitten to a point of barely even being embarrassed. He’d only find shame in it if you did.

“That’s adorable,” you take his hand, squeezing tight, and Eddie squeezes back tighter.

“Thank you, I really, really try.”

And as soon as you’re off for some reconstructional surgery - Eddie will rush off to buy you the biggest bouquet he can buy. He likes giving you the torn-root daisies as much as you enjoy receiving them, but buying flowers for you would be nice. 

“Maybe one day, I’ll actually get to write Munson, hm?”

“Oh, honey,” he excitedly turns to face you fully, eyes wide and lips pulled back so far his teeth are on display, “If you’d let me, I’d marry you right now.”

“Stop,” you swat his arm and you both giggle - neither entirely joking, though. 

There’s a soft lull. And Eddie does as he’s best at and breaks it.

“Nervous?”

“A little,” tenderly, you brush your fingertips against the collection of scars from previous surgeries, “You?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

“In case there’s an absolutely dashing doctor in there,” you like making Eddie laugh.

It was like making George Carlin - the so-called Godfather of comedy himself - laugh. Simply the funniest man you’ve ever met - and that may be bias, but you can’t be bothered to care.

“God, I hope not,” he grimaces, “Who else would I force to listen to my campaign plots?”

“Oh, whatever, Munson.”

He leans over and kisses your cheek sweetly, “Yeah, ‘whatever’. You’d be lost without my campaign plots.”

“That’s true,” you squeeze his hand again and he squeezes right back, “I’d hate it terribly.”

"Good," he nods curtly, already planning the route to the florist he saw not a block away from this hospital, "I would too, honestly."

[fraseris]

both at the exact same time. i feel like you as a person are to the queen what vocaloid is to victorian children. mainly because i thought you were english for so long

listen okay i need to address this it isnt even funny the way that the british have effected my entire personality and speech patterns dude it isnt even funny the other day i forgot the word for sweater and called it a "jumper" worst time of my life ive been religiously watching minecraft youtubers since the age of like 6 years hold and theyve all been british every last one of them its a miracle i dont have a british accent from young child sponge brain and ive watched 4 seasons of doctor who in the last week and thats not even getting STARTED on the old good omens & bbc merlin fixations dude every single good book that i like is british and its so british is like neil gaiman once talked about the classic british humor style of writing like in hitchhikers guide to the galaxy which is 1) a really good book that i adore and 2) JUST LIKE EVERY OTHER BOOK I ADORE and its so british its so british and i cant even write fic now without using words like "quite" and "rather" what am i do i look like micheal sheen to you and its just such an ordeal and ive only known one british person in my entire life she was from the south and i cared not for her but she was a furry and she was making a paper mache statue of her fursona and i had mad respect but we never talked and the last week before this pandemic started i saw her at my old dance studio and we were like the spiderman pointing meme and then over the weekend my life fell apart and everything was cancelled and i was stuck inside with WILBUR SOOT who had just grown a beard and was posting more often because of lockdown and you know that changed me it really did because i never talked to anyone because i was inside all the time and it was just me & my favorite haha funny insignificant minecraft youtuber wilbur soot it was a dark time for me and it never ended throughout this quarantine my only comfort and my only friend has been british media dude its all just british media and theres this youtube named justin kuritzkes and hes got this called "in love with a pizza" which is really good and i would seriously consider watching it along with the rest of that guys content he is american bless his soul a bright light & beacon of hope in these dark times and in that video he uses a BRITISH ACCENT and you know im watching doctor who right now in the background as i type this all out for you to illustrate the woes of my life and theres a person whos obviously supposed to be american but hes a british actor and i can TELL i can TELL that hes british and its really just very painful all the time and my dad wants to move to wales to wales which seems more interesting than england but theyre still british yknow and i dont want to go i will hate it there it will be so sad and gloomy and andrew garfield is british andrew garfield can you believe that ???? hes british and i learned that while watching doctor who this reminds me that david tennant is in both doctor who & good omens which happens to be a screen adaption of my favorite book good omens by neil gaiman and terry pratchett and theyre BRITISH and the book is BRITISH and david tennant is BRITISH and ive been watching this series called "staged" which is an adaption of this really interesting play called six characters in search of an author by some italian dude and its really actually kind of dull but the kind that makes you go "why does this exist i need to understand whats happening here whats its purpose" and in the show micheal sheen speaks welsh and it just reminds me that someday i might be forced to move to wales because of my dad and i think they should improve minors rights to their own mental and emotional and physical property and right to exist

[lucacangettathisass]

how the light gets in (ch. 8)

SUMMARY: After your home is ransacked by a group of strange men, you and your cousin are taken in by a group of outlaws. And that’s when the trouble really starts.

PAIRINGS: John Marston x Fem!Reader, Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN

TAGGING: @mountainhymn if you would like to be added to the tag list just lmk!

NOTES: so sorry for the slow update! ive been doing some full on hours at work (my manager literally told me that im doing full time hours despite being part time lmao rip) so that’s been leaving me a little drained lmao but hey at least we got there!

more mentions of low self esteem, those are gonna be a lot more prevalent from here on out actually.

on another note, i’ve been wondering if i should rewrite this as an oc fic rather than a reader one. thoughts? i might not even do it, but im curious to hear what you guys think.

anyways, hope you all enjoy! and dont forget, likes are nice but reblogs are what motivate creators the most!

p.s. pls check out waking up slow by mountainhymn!!!! it is so wonderful im still crying

“Well, it really all started with my momma.” You felt yourself begin to fidget and made an effort to stand completely still. “She got a job working for a wealthy Russian widow, Mrs Zamolodchikova.”

Mr Morgan let out a low whistle. “Now that’s a name.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “A lot of Russian names are like that. As I was saying, she hired my momma to be a maid when I was still very young. Mrs Zamolodchikova treated us very well, we even lived in a little cottage she had on her land.”

Despite all the years that had passed, you still thought of that cottage fondly. It had been small and not impressive by any means, but it had been your home for most of your childhood. You had a lot of good memories of it.

“I...I lost my momma when I was seven.” Even now, twelve years later, it hurt to say. Your mother had been your whole world, everything began and ended with her, and it had never once occurred to you when you were a child, that you would one day have to face the world without her. She loved you too much to do that to you. And then it happened anyway.

You had never experienced a heart break like it before, or since.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Mr Matthews said gently.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, trying to speak around the lump that always formed in your throat whenever you thought about losing your mother. “She had been ill for as long as I could remember, it was only a matter of time.”

“I imagine your aunt and uncle took you in?”

“They wanted to, but Mrs Zamolodchikova stepped in. She said that she saw it as her Christian duty to take me in as a ward, and that’s what I became.” It had stunned you at the time to learn that Mrs Zamolodchikova cared for you that much. You would always be grateful for her kindness, it had changed your life. “She had no children of her own, so I think she wanted me to fill that gap.”

“That was very kind of her.” Mr Matthews sounded surprised, and you supposed that it made sense. You couldn’t imagine that he had come across many people willing to take in the child of an employee, particularly among the rich. You certainly had never seen such a thing in your time among them.

You nodded in agreement. “She taught me etiquette and how to behave in upper class circles, and as I got older I became her companion. That was how I met Mr Cornwall.”

A spark appeared in Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes, and you knew that you really had his full interest now. “How did that come about?”

“He was looking for investors in his business, he was just starting out you see, and he needed some capital.”

“So he went to Mrs Zamolodchikova?” Mr Van Der Linde asked. “She must’ve been rather rich.”

“Exceedingly so.” You said. “Her family is very old Russian money, and when she came to America with her husband, her wealth only grew, even after he died. I imagine Mr Cornwall thought that if he could convince her to invest, he would have an easy time of building his empire.”

“Did he?” Mr Van Der Linde’s eyes sparkled with a kind of devious curiosity, the kind most often found in children. “Convince her to invest that is.”

“I’m afraid not. Mrs Zamolodchikova found him rather...disagreeable.” A part of you still cringed on the inside just thinking about that meeting. It had started off well, and Mr Cornwall had certainly been polite enough, but once his true character came out, it all started to go downhill rather rapidly.

“In what way?”

You hesitated slightly. “Well, I mean, one doesn’t wish to disparage others when they don’t have the opportunity to defend themselves.”

A chuckle came from Mr Van Der Linde, and you even saw a corner of Mr Morgan’s mouth twitch.

“We just want your honest opinion, that’s all.” Mr Matthews assured you. “No need to be disparaging.”

You paused, trying to think of the right way to phrase it. “Mr Cornwall...well, Mrs Zamolodchikova and I found him to be rather...brusque and arrogant. When Mrs Zamolodchikova turned down his request, he got rather upset and he seemed to take it as a personal affront.”

“She must’ve grown to regret that.” Mr Van Der Linde mused.

“Not at all. Mrs Zamolodchikova was happy for him of course, but she was also happy she rejected him. She said she couldn’t imagine being in business with someone so...tasteless.”

“Tasteless in what way?” Mr Matthews asked.

“Well he was...very new money.” When you saw the looks of confusion on the mens’ faces, you tried to think of a better way to phrase it. “He was something of a show off, and a little gaudy. He wore a lot of gold, I imagine to try and impress, but it came off as vain and rather insecure. Mrs Zamolodchikova was very critical of that kind of thing, and when she saw how self aggrandizing he became after his success, she grew to dislike him even more.”

Mr Van Der Linde nodded slowly, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “It sounds like you’ve lead a rather interesting life.”

“I suppose you could say that.” Your eyes roamed over the two older men again. “I imagine that wasn’t the kind of information you wanted, my apologies Mr Van Der Linde.”

Despite your fears, the black haired man smiled and waved a hand. “It’s fine Miss [Last name]. I was just curious, that’s all. Javier, why don’t you walk her back to where she’s staying?”

“Sure thing boss.”

You turned to leave with Mr Escuella, but you hesitated just as he put a hand on the door knob. “Wait.” All eyes were back on you, and you felt yourself flush, but you felt that you needed to get this out. “I just-I just wanted to add that Mr Cornwall is a very powerful man, and in my opinion, and in the opinion of mutual acquaintances that he and I share, he is lead more by pride and ego than wisdom. He doesn’t take insults lightly and can be rather harsh.” You were very careful and deliberate with your words, not wanting to seem like you knew better, but still wanting to convey your feelings of apprehension.

Mr Van Der Linde raised an eyebrow, and you got the feeling that he understood what you were trying to say. “Duly noted Miss.”

You nodded, and turned back to Mr Escuella, this time actually following him outside.

“You must’ve lived a pretty good life for a while.”

You shrugged and felt yourself blush heavily. “I suppose.” It always somewhat embarrassed you, knowing how different your life had been from other people, especially those who were born into the same class as yourself. “I honestly just think I got lucky.” You looked down at your feet. “Don’t feel so lucky now though.”

A heavy silence hung between you two, and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from crying.

“Sorry.” You said softly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my woes.”

“It’s ok.” Mr Escuella assured you, his voice kind again. “Considering everything you’ve been through, I’d say you have a right to let your feelings out.”

You looked at Mr Escuella in surprise. You hadn’t really thought about it like that. “You’re very kind.” You said sincerely. “Sadie might not think so but I certainly do.”

That brought a bright smile to Mr Escuella’s face, which made you smile in turn. You always enjoyed making people smile, it made you feel good, and you felt that it proved that you were useful and worth something for once.

“You’re a sweet kid.” Mr Escuella’s eyes were shining, although you couldn’t hazard a guess as to why. “Don’t let anyone beat that out of you, ok?”

“I-Ok.” You weren’t sure how else you should respond, being so unused to compliments from strangers. You watched as he held the door to the house with the other women open. “Are you not coming in?”

“Nah.” He smiled. “You stay warm ok?”

“Of course, and you as well Mr Escuella.” You went inside, and no sooner was the door closed that you were practically swarmed by Miss Jones, Miss Gaskill, and Miss Jackson.

“What did they want?”

“You weren’t gone for very long, did everything go alright?”

“Are you allowed to say?”

You felt yourself flush as you tried to keep track of who was asking which question. “It was nothing special.” You said. “They just wanted to know how I knew Mr Cornwall.”

Of course they all also wanted to know, and so you told them what you had told Mr Van Der Linde, Mr Matthews, Mr Morgan, and Mr Escuella-omitting your warning at the end.

Much like the men, they were stunned to hear your story.

“So you grew up pretty well to do.” Miss Jones said, in a tone that sounded impressed and envious.

“I-Well, yes, I suppose.” The embarrassment from earlier had returned. “I was extremely privileged.”

“What was it like?” Miss Gaskill asked, sounding wistful. “Being in that world?”

You paused, trying to think of a good way to describe it.

“When I was a little girl, it was dazzling.” You confessed. “All those men and women in their finery...it looked like an entirely different world. Like a fairy tale.”

“Oh yeah?” Miss Jackson raised a brow. “Meet any prince charmings?”

You laughed. “I met some well to do gentlemen if that’s what you mean.”

“I think she means suitors.” Miss Gaskill said with a giggle, and an eager look on her face. “Well, did you?”

“Oh!” A scorching heat unlike any of the others from before overcame you, and you felt your throat dry up. “I-Well-no.” You stammered, looking askance out of embarrassment.

“Really?”

You looked up and saw Miss Roberts looking at you with surprise. “You mean none of them tried to…” She trailed off, leaving you to fill in the blank.

“Not at all.” You said, your flush worsening. “After all, I was just a maid’s daughter.”

And therein lies the rub.

No matter how much you learned or how you dressed or how you behaved, everyone knew that you were just the daughter of a maid who Mrs Zamolodchikova had taken pity on. Most of them had been polite enough, but that boundary had always been there, and always would be. You had grown accustomed to it, the way one would grow accustomed to a permanent limp. And it left you with what you imagined would be the same level of alienation. It was one of the many unfortunate side effects of being born as yourself, and one you had learned how to deal and navigate the world with.

But it would always be a fairy tale to you. Beautiful, grand, never within your reach no matter how well you knew it. And you would always be that little girl that chased after it with every breath in her chest.

[izzyfandoms]

LAMP - Sick

Human AU LAMP with Remy as their 2-year-old son

Warnings: Mentions of Illness

Ships: LAMP

Here you go @i-can-explain-really I finished the Sick fic for you!!! Hope you like it!

General Taglist: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel

Masterlist

*****

Roman, Logan, Patton and Virgil had met in high school, getting together pretty quickly, and getting married only a few short years after they graduated. It had now been quite a few years since then, and the four of them now had a young 2-year-old son, named Remy.

This was a pretty regular Sunday morning. Patton was up early, making breakfast for the family. However, what wasn’t regular was the fact that Patton was coughing and sneezing, his nose blocked and his head aching.

He had been trying to make pancakes, having just finished making the mixture, when he suddenly sneezed loudly, hitting the bowl with his hand and sending it tumbling to the floor, pancake batter getting everywhere as it hit the floor with a bang.

Patton could barely even process what had just happened, his mind foggy. He sniffled loudly just as Logan walked in, hair sticking up and still in pyjamas.

"Patton, is everything okay?" He asked, before spotting the mixing bowl on the floor and the clearly unwell Patton.

Patton looked up at him, eyes watery and sniffling. "My head hurts." He mumbled, voice croaky.

Logan blinked a few times in surprise before his expression softened, and he opened his arms out to Patton, who immediately buried himself in Logan’s chest.

Logan rubbed his back sympathetically. "Okay, why don’t you go upstairs and run yourself a bath, get comfortable, and I’ll clean up down here. We can all have cereal for breakfast instead."

Patton leant back slightly, looking at Logan and frowning. "But... it’s Sunday. I always make pancakes on Sunday."

"But you’re ill. If you made pancakes, you’d likely infect them and we’ll all get sick too." Logan’s voice then softened. "And you need to remember to take care of yourself too, okay?"

Patton blinked a few times, before opening his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by Virgil and Roman walking in, both dressed in pyjamas, and Virgil carrying a sleepy Remy.

"What happened here?" Roman exclaimed in surprise.

"Patton’s sick." Logan said simply, and Roman and Virgil gave Patton dual looks of concern.

"Honey, are you okay?" Roman asked softly, and Patton shook his head, still buried in Logan’s arms.

Logan ran his fingers through Patton’s hair. "Why don’t you go with Roman? He can help run you a bath."

Patton thought about it for a second, before nodding, letting go of Logan and immediately being picked up bridal style by Roman, who whisked him out of the room and back upstairs.

Just as they left, Remy seemed to wake up properly.

"Dada!" He exclaimed.

Virgil sighed. "Your Dad’s sick, Rem, so your Papa’s taking him upstairs to rest."

Remy pouted, starting to struggle in Virgil’s arms, continuing to whine. "Dada! Dada!"

Virgil struggled not to drop him, and glanced at Logan. "Hey, can you take him? I’ll clean up the kitchen."

Logan nodded. "Okay, I’ll take him to the sitting room."

Virgil passed Remy to Logan, but he continued fussing, kicking his legs and pushing Logan’s shoulder.

"Fa! Wan’ Dada!" Remy complained. Fa was short for Father, but he was too young to really pronounce that yet.

"Yes, I know you want him, but he’s upstairs, and we don’t want you getting sick too." Logan said simply, but Remy still looked on the brink of tears, so he sighed.

Logan shifted Remy onto his hip, taking his glasses off and placing them carefully on Remy’s face. The toddler looked shocked for a few seconds, before starting to giggle, his previous woes forgotten.

Logan then brought the now-calm toddler to the sitting room, placing him carefully on the couch and turning on cartoons for him to watch. He tried to take his glasses back, but Remy whined loudly, so he sighed and quickly passes him Roman’s sunglasses, and his son was content.

He then sat next to Remy, beginning to mark homework and tuning out the colourful cartoons playing in the background. Eventually, Virgil came in and Remy beamed up at him, the sunglasses comically big on his head.

"Pop!" Remy exclaimed, bouncing, and Virgil sat down in between him and Logan, before quickly pulling the squirming toddler onto his lap.

About half an hour later, Roman and Patton walked in, the latter still sniffling, with a very red nose and watery eyes, wrapped in a blanket.

"Dada! Dada!" Remy shrieked, trying to reach Patton, but his dad just smiled sadly.

"Sorry, Kiddo, I don’t wanna get you sick too." He said, before sneezing twice.

Roman helped Patton settle down on the other sofa, but going up to Virgil and plucking Remy off of his lap. He bounced Remy a few times in the air.

"How’s my little Knight?" Roman grinned, and Remy laughed uproariously.

"Roman, careful-" Logan warned, but he was too late, and Roman’s sunglasses slipped off Remy’s face, hitting the ground and breaking.

They all stared at it for a few seconds, before Roman just sighed.

"Well, guess I’ve gotta go buy some new ones."

Remy started giggling, and Virgil came up behind him, lightly tickling his feet while Roman held him. Remy starting laughing more, and Patton winced at the noise, which only Logan noticed.

"Can you two play with him upstairs?" He interjected. "Patton’s got a headache."

Roman and Virgil stopped, giving Patton apologetic looks.

"Sorry, Pat."

"I apologise, my Love."

They then took Remy upstairs, leaving Logan and Patton alone in the living room. After a minute or two, Patton whined, making grabby hands at Logan.

"Come cuddle me, I’m cold!"

Logan sighed, putting his work to the side, and getting up, going over to Patton. He sat next to him, and the smaller man shuffled closer.

"I swear, if you get me ill-"

"I won’t, I promise!" Patton protested, before putting his head into Logan’s lap and snuggling into him.

Logan ran his hands through Patton’s hair as they kept watching quiet cartoons. About an hour later, Virgil came back down.

"Remy’s taking a nap, and Roman decided to go work on his novel." He said, and Logan nodded.

"Okay, would you mind swapping places with me? I still have some tests to mark for tomorrow."

"Sure." Virgil agreed, and they switched places, Patton snuggling into Virgil’s side immediately.

Eventually Patton fell asleep, and Virgil managed to move, leaving Patton to keep napping on the sofa.

***

A few hours later, Remy was playing quietly with some toys in the sitting room, and the rest of his dads were in the kitchen, whilst Patton continued to sleep peacefully on the couch.

Every so often, Remy would look up at his dad, watching him snore, before he eventually dropped his toys and stood up, wobbling as he walked over to the couch and grunting as he climbed up. He then slotted himself in Patton’s arms, and fell asleep within minutes.

A bit later, Roman entered the room to check on Remy, cooing softly when he spotted the two of them curled up together. He immediately returned to the kitchen to grab his phone, and Logan and Virgil gave him curious

"Guys, look! Patton and Remy are being so cute!" Roman whispered enthusiastically, picking up his phone, and the two of them followed him back into the sitting room, spotting Patton and Remy immediately.

"You’re right." Logan said quietly. "They are undeniably... adorable."

Roman took a bunch of pictures, getting closer with each one, but all of a sudden his foot got caught on one of Remy’s toys, and he tripped, hitting the carpet with a loud thump.

This woke up both Remy and Patton, the latter looking quite startled, and the former immediately bursting into tears.

Roman started apologising excessively, and Logan and Virgil looked at each other and sighed.

Just a normal day in the Sanders’ household.

***

About a week later, Patton was fully recovered, and he was back in the kitchen, making pancakes. Remy was sat at the table nearby, colouring pictures of dragons and princes, and the two of them were chatting about cartoons and animals.

Everything was calm and happy, until suddenly Logan, Virgil and Roman entered the room, all coughing and sniffling, and Patton sighed.

This would be a long week.

[moonbinscirera]

I feel like you would be the perfect passenger for me then because I always get lost even with a GPS when it doesn't work...

Omg taste... I would love to pick up more books with a woman of color centric character and YES bonus points for good gay rep pls 🤌🏼 I really do love fantasies as well 😩 omg an angst lover 💪🏼 honestly haven't read a lot of angst lately but >:) when authors aren't afraid to kill off a character I have got to say that's super refreshing 🍿

Ahahaha fake dating got that good spice to it...will never tire of that trope but I'm giggling at the kid fics... I can definitely see why you would not want to touch those with a 10ft pole 😂 👍🏼

I'm loving your ao3 search so much!! That's so detailed slay I'm just lucky if anything I like pops up for real - at this point I think I will just read anything out of desperation when I'm bored 😅

Slayyyy I think I'll continue looking into them maybe as a potential Christmas gift!! I'll also have to loon up ToonrificTariq then 👁 I'm loving the name already 😂

Screaming at how cool you are... Honestly watched GoT off and on only for the dragons 😩 - I'm cackling at how you can do it without looking although I'm sure you didn't miss *too* much 😂

I... am a fic writer 😩🫣 I don't think my stories are all that cool unfortunately... Most of the attention/notes have gone towards nsfw content rather than the sfw I used to labor over 💔 such is the woes of writeblr 😔

Thank you for thinking I'm studious 😂 I'm studying IT 🤓 I'm pretty sure I'll be graduating right before the gift giving starts off for this event hehe.. I cannot wait to be done for now 😭 homework and lectures are sooo boring at this point but the 24/7 working life... Ew! What about you (if you don't mind me asking hehe) 😳

xhxydhddhd at least if the gps breaks well be lost together shsbsshd

sometimes it feels like its a lil hard to find books with woc protags that arent realistic fiction and i hate that 😭 cuz alot of time the "realistic" setting they pick is one i cant relate to cuz i didnt grow up in the city or i wasnt the only black family in a whyte suburbs u know? so it takes like triple the digging to find something to connect to and it feel fun and not like racism porn 😭

anyway! angst is so good like its so satisfying and isnt there just something so so so like brain itching good about a homie being like please play pretend with me and then going oh shit wait its not pretend anymore actually?

im generally a rarepair shipper??? like in most fandoms i get into so its like i gotta be methodical and double back alot or else ill run outta content 😭 like even my favorite dynamic in svt is wonhao which barely anyone is checkin for 😭 (but quite honestly any less talked about hao dynamic imma jump thru hoops for like any of 95 line with him?????)

can u tell hao is my ult like is it obvious? i prommi i like him a normal amount like an absolutely normal amount like i swear on go- [gunshot]

do it do it do it doit³

im telling u i was in s2-3 and kept being like who tf is that??? by s4 i was like if this unknown person is here its no worries theyll prolly die soon anyway dont stress dont stress

ah creative ppl are always hard on their own work tho! (i am too) i bet its cooler than u think! that sucks tho when attn doesnt go to the works u really want them too 😔 like nsfw is fun but sfw should still get some love 😔

ooo and luckily! u caught me in this month because i just applied to an online school to study health IT so i can actually say imma be studying something! starting in January im nervous 👉🏾👈🏾 BUT CONGRATULATIONS ON UR GRADUATION

[jae-bummer]

Duality of Man

Request: Can u please write Yoongi + 18.? I dont really like pain but I know you can write it really beautifully and stories like that are needed too and I think this theme fit Yoongi a lot :) Thank you for your amazing work and dedication to your fans ♡

18) Two mini fics in one: The first time you see your bias. The last time you see your bias.

Member: BTS Yoongi x Y/N

Type: angst

The first time...

You moved slowly and carefully across the room, cautious not to drop the box you were holding. The records housed in your arms shifted back and forth haphazardly, causing you to cringe as you moved. The speakers above you bumped a new artist’s mixtape, just loud enough to catch your attention. You grooved along, allowing your footsteps to move in the same rhythm as the song surrounding you. Your hands became steady as you carried the heavy box, giving you the steps you needed. That’s why you loved working at a music store, it always gave you some flow.

You bent your knees, attempting to find the table about a foot below your grip. Your knuckles finally hit the wood surface just as noise erupted in the front half of the store. You furrowed your brows, dropping the box in surprise, and completely slammed your fingers. 

“Shit,” you hissed, sliding your fingers out, and instantly beginning to shake them in the air.  

You shuffled toward the entrance of the stock room, moving the beaded curtain to the side to glance out. A crowd was beginning to gather on the sidewalk, but nothing in the actual store seemed to be concerning. You caught the eye of the cashier who only shrugged. If she wasn’t concerned, you wouldn’t be either. 

You disappeared behind the curtain again and examined your fingers. You sighed, noticing one of your nails had begun to bleed. You groaned as you navigated to the bathroom and turned on the cold water. Immediately sticking your fingers beneath it, you were hoping for some form of relief. You cringed, a moan escaping your lips as the water stung the wounded area. 

“Damnit,” you hissed. “Son of a bitch. Mother f-”

You turned the corner out of the bathroom and halted as soon as you did. Your eyes grew wide as a light haired boy stared back at you, his own eyes panicked. Your froze, your fingers still in the air, midway to your mouth. He began to shake his head slowly, bringing a finger up to his mouth as a signal to remain quiet. 

You had several thoughts about the situation, most of them involving him being a burglar. 

But were burglars that attractive? 

Against your better judgement, you began to nod in return, waiting quietly in your spot. 

A soft roar began to emanate from the front of the shop, it’s small quarters were quickly being filled by potential customers. You made a move to join your coworker, but the strange man caught you by the wrist. 

“You don’t want to go out there,” he whispered huskily. 

You opened your mouth to respond, only to close it again as your coworker’s voice cut through the noise. 

“No, if you aren’t in here buying something, get the hell out! I don’t even know who the hell you’re looking for, but he’s not here!” your coworker shouted. “Out! Out! Shouldn’t you be in school? Do your parents know you’re here?” 

“Who are you?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you focused on the could-be burglar. 

“Not anyone worth knowing,” he hummed, exhaling a deep breath. He began to slide down the wall he was leaning against, plopping to the ground with a groan. 

You crouched beside him and let out a chuckle. “Apparently, you’re mistaken.” 

“My name is Min Yoongi,” he said after a moment. 

“Where are you from, Min Yoongi?” you smiled. 

“Daegu,” he nodded surely. 

“Then what are you doing in Seoul if you’re from Daegu?” you continued to pry. 

“Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” he sighed. “I do know that I am very, very tired.” 

“Are you going to force me to google you? Or are you going to give me the whole story?” you grumbled, finally falling to the floor next to him. 

He bit his lip, dropping his face in his hands. 

“I’m not sure who needs to take out the trash here, but it ain’t me,” your coworker grumbled, sticking her head through the beads. “I just handled a rabid bunch of tweens, so you can see him out.” 

“Right,” you nodded, taking a deep breath. “Give me a second.”

“No, give me now, help me pick up this mess,” she hissed. “Please and thank you.”

“She’s charming,” Yoongi muttered, sending a wary look over his shoulder. 

“I know after experiencing how polite I am, you’re shocked,” you grinned. “But in all earnesty, if you don’t at least tell me why you are on the run, I’m going to have to kick you out.” 

“I’m not a fugitive,” he sneered, squinting at your name tag. “Y/N.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” you said with a small shrug. “So let’s get you out of here.”

“My name is Min Yoongi,” he repeated again. “Min Yoongi.”

“I’ve heard,” you hummed, pulling yourself up. You gripped at the hood of his jacket and gave a light tug. “Come on, Min Yoongi.” 

“But I’m known by my stage names. Suga or Agust D,” he whispered, looking away from you. 

“Suga,” you said quietly, tilting your head. You searched your mind for the name. “Suga...suga...BTS Suga?” 

“BTS Suga,” he repeated with a small nod. 

“I heard your mixtape,” you grinned. “It wasn’t bad.” 

Yoongi let out a small scoff. “Gee, thanks.” 

“That’s a compliment from me,” you grinned. “I’m not easily impressed.” 

“Obviously,” he muttered. “They wrote an article about it for Billboard.” 

“They write something about you in XXL? Vibe?” you teased. 

He shot you a dirty look, but quickly grinned. “Do I look like Kendrick Lamar to you?” 

“Nah, cause I would have known if he was hiding in my stock room,” you grinned. You sat back down beside him and hit his knee with yours. “That is a pretty big deal though. I mean...I don’t have an article about me written by anyone at Billboard.” 

“Thanks,” he nodded, his smile fading to a smirk, but not disappearing. “I’ve worked hard.” 

“It shows, dozens of teen girls stampeded into this place for you,” you nodded. “I don’t think half of them even know what records are to be honest.” 

“I didn’t become a musician so I could hide,” he sighed.”Sorry, I don’t mean to take up your time. Who likes a stranger telling them their problems. I’ll just...uh...see myself out.” 

He moved to lift himself up, but you yanked his wrist back down again. “The best thing about venting to strangers is they have no preconceived bias about who you are. So I mean...you can hide in the stock room anytime.” 

Yoongi grinned and crossed his arms, searching your face for something you were unsure of. “Really?” 

“No,” you chuckled, sticking your tongue out at him. “Get the hell out of my store.” 

But really, it was only the beginning. 

In the end...

You moved slowly and carefully across the room, cautious not to drop the box you were holding. A portion of your life lived in that box and you didn’t intend on dropping it. Just because you had chosen to end that part of your life, did not mean it was not important to you. 

You shuffled through the silence, keeping your eyes cemented on Yoongi’s sleeping form. You were a coward, but you knew that. You never thought you would be the one sneaking away after an argument. 

The argument. 

The argument to end all arguments. 

When you and Yoongi were sitting on the floor in the stock room of the music store you had worked at, you had hearts in your eyes. As he vented to you about the woes of an idol and the duality of his personalities, you had listened with an attentive ear. 

You hadn’t realized how that would impact your possible future with Yoongi. 

But boy, did it. 

You had never intended on entering a relationship with him. You had never intended on being together for as long as you had. But as time passed, you learned more and more about the difference between work Suga and at home Yoongi. And you were tired. 

Just as tired as he was when you had first met. 

...

It was 2 a.m. when he had struggled in that evening. You had left nearly every light in the apartment on, anticipating his arrival for hours. You slept sitting up on the couch, ready to strike as soon as you heard keys in the door. 

Just because he was an idol, didn’t mean he got the pass to be an asshole. 

“Whoa, for a minute I thought you had forgotten where you lived,” you yawned, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

“Can you not,” he grumbled. “It’s been a long day.” 

“No kidding!” you gasped. “I have those too, but I mean, you wouldn’t know because you aren’t around to see them.” 

“Look, don’t be a jerk,” he muttered. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood for it.” 

You bit your lip and took a deep breath in. So maybe you were being harsh. 

“You might not want to have this conversation right now,” you nodded. “But when are we going to have it, Yoongi?” 

He dropped his bag by the door and made his way to the couch, falling beside you. He went to place his head on your shoulder, but you quickly moved away. “Y/N,” he grumbled. “Why are you acting like this?” 

“The scary part is you think this came out of no where,” you whispered. “Why would I be acting like this?” 

“I’m guessing because I’m not home to cater to you,” he muttered. 

“Do you want to retry your choice of verb or are you going to leave it?” you asked, lifting your brows. 

“Seriously, what do you want from me? I’m tired. I told you that,” he hissed. “But please, let’s argue after the day I’ve had. I really appreciate it.” 

“After the day you’ve had, after the day you’ve had,” you repeated. “What about the day I’ve had, Yoongi? When do I get to peer out from behind your shadow?” 

“It’s not like that,” he sighed. 

“Then tell me what it’s like, please,” you nodded. “When we first met, you told me that your music was your first love. I understood. You told me that you had dual pieces to your personality. You had your stage presence, the person you were when you were working. Then you had your true self, Min Yoongi, the soft and considerate man I had in my heart. That part is a little bit harder to swallow.” 

“The man you have in your heart...” he whispered. “So you don’t love me as a whole?” 

“How am I supposed to?” you sighed. “When Suga of BTS literally is someone I’ve never gotten to know. I only know that he ignores me and picks just about everything over me.” 

“I told you that I was career driven,” Yoongi grumbled. “Before we ever got into this. I told you how it would be.” 

“And I was so in love with Min Yoongi that it didn’t even matter,” you said quietly. “I’m not saying you’re a bad person. I’m not saying your a bad boyfriend. All I’m saying is you could be more considerate. Suga could be more considerate.” 

“I’m one person,” Yoongi sighed. “And I’m sorry, Y/N...but I don’t plan on changing things. I can’t.”

“No matter how self destructive?” you croaked. “No matter how relationship damaging?” 

“Until I am ready to make a lifestyle change...I just can’t,” he whispered. “I’ll have to ask you to take it or leave it.” 

...

And you were leaving it. 

You slid one shoe on, followed by another, cringing as the floorboards beneath you creaked under your weight. Yoongi was a fairly heavy sleeper, so you weren’t really concerned about waking him. Heavy thoughts kept his head in the pillow, so it was your own paranoia driving the fear. 

You took your supporting hand from the box for a moment, digging in your back pocket to find the one last thing that tied you to Yoongi. 

Your key. 

You slid it from the denim and placed it lightly on the table near the door. You nodded to yourself as Yoongi shifted sleepily on the couch, but still not waking up completely. You bit your lip, attempting to keep the tears from falling, but failing miserably. 

You tugged open the door, not caring if it whined as you did. You hurried through the frame and shut it behind you, shutting this chapter of your life as well. 

You took the stairs by two, clinging to the buckling cardboard in your grasp as you moved like your life depended on it. You could make it back to your apartment in fifteen minutes if you walked quickly. Maybe in two or three blocks you could manage to calm down enough to call a cab. 

Hopefully you could burn off energy and guilt in the walk. 

You knew you were equally as fault. You didn’t want to work with Yoongi’s lifestyle just as much as he didn’t want to change it. Just because a man is an idol doesn’t make him any more or less of a human. And when it came down to it, if you had both grown unhappy in the relationship, it was time for it to end. 

You just wish you had been brave enough to leave while he was there. 

But as you went to bed that evening, he didn’t need to be told verbally. He knew you would be gone when he woke. 

You took a deep breath as you stood on the sidewalk below the building. You paused for a moment, closing your eyes to internalize what you were actually doing. You exhaled, chancing a glance to the windows above, and instantly felt a pang of regret instead. 

Yoongi’s silhouette stood firmly in the window, three floors up, in the same apartment where you had left him. He looked down at you, his pale hand pressed against the glass as a silent plea, 

You cleared your throat, trying to inhibit the whimper beginning to choke your breaths. You shook your head slowly, barely able to make out Yoongi through your tears. Shifting, you balanced the box again, and placed one foot before the other. You looked back down to it’s contents and then up to the street before you. 

This was over.

But really, it was only a new beginning. 

[thehalfworld]

Fanfic MST: Forbiden Fruit: The Tempation of Edward Cullen, a Twilight fanfic [part 8]

And here we are at the end. I hope you’ve all been enjoying the ride, because it’s about to get a whole lot weirder in this, the final chapter.

Warnings this time around: a whole lot of drug use, some underage drinking, DUI but it’s okay because Tiaa is a vampire, bestiality, and an attempted sexual assault. Also did I mention drug use? There’s a lot of drug use.

Recap: Tiaa met a panda bear named Snoofles on her way to school (please don’t think too hard about this) and learned that she can now talk to animals, among other abilities. Thanks to a vague new ability of hers, she accidentally made her mean classmate Lauren get struck by lightning while they were in a verbal spat. Edward finally decided to leave Bella for Tiaa and the two celebrated by having sex in the middle of the school. Bella walked in on them and got upset.

Chapter 1

Previous chapter

hey guys sory its been so long since an update, i hav been so busy latley. sooooo..i had a fight with my old beta but i have a new 1 now an she is helpin me byut she is on vacaton this wk and next so i promise i will sort the spellin mistaks out wen i can!

Did she refuse to beta your fic after you stole her poster of Gerard Way?

Chapter 8 - the Kidnap

I sat alone in the changes rooms, i was all most naked and looked awsome with my exotic lithely hair falling down over my face like a curtan of soft yellow cream with bits of purple in it but I didnt care how beautifull or eqxisite I was any more. 

Tiaa doesn’t care how beautiful she is, but she had to start the sentence off by reminding us all how beautiful she is. And that she looks awesome. And her hair is exotic.

Whatever that means.

Edward was gone. he had left to follow Bella to stop her from killin herself and i was SO mad. 

Wait, are you mad Edward is attempting to prevent Bella from committing suicide?

how coud he leave me like that after sayin bella was a cow and he didnt like her no more? 

That doesn’t mean he’s fine with letting her make attempts on her own life, Tiaa.

I was pissed! and the tears were falling down my face like a tepid summer rain of misery and woe. 

I love this goddamn sentence.

So i went home and skipped school and sat in my room in my black corset and leather panties and i smoked some drugs and started to weep. 

To be fair, this is a really solid stoner-goth aesthetic she has going.

…wait, hold up, leather panties? 

Leather panties?

dave came in and made a big smiley face.

He’s in a really good mood for someone whose brother was murdered hours ago.

"hi tiaa! I didnt no you were home! how was school today?" (he didnt notice i was smokin drugs he thougt my cigarete of pot was a chapstick)

Okay, for the sake of argument, I’ll buy that Dave visually mistook a spliff for chapstick… but can he not smell that she’s smoking weed?

"it sucks!my life sucks and i want to DIE!" i scremed and my eyes glitered with beauty.

Love how Tiaa is suicidal but still needs to make sure we know how pretty she is at all times. Reminds me of the bit in “My Immortal” where Enoby was flirting while sobbing.

"u teenagers and ur problems, LOL!" he said laughing a lot, and i knew he thougt i was just some silly kid wineing about homework and dumb boys and stuff. 

Well, replace “homework” with “getting raped by the relative of a caregiver, turning into a vampire, and accidentally seriously injuring a classmate” and Dave’s on the money.

he didnt no i had killed a man and lost the love off my life and had made lauren get hit by lighting and that all the kids at school thougt i was a freak becase my face and bodys were so diffrent from everyone elses.

Do I really need to tell this girl to stop humanizing her rapist? She killed him in self-defense! It was one hundred percent justified! C’mon, Tiaa, don’t be so hard on yourself.

Also, nobody cares about Lauren.

"dave your a good person but ur SO FUCKIN DUMB! YOU ASSHOLE!" i shouted at him and i threw my ashtray at his head WITHOUT TOUCHING IT (i could make stuff move when i was angry now...it was so weird! why did this have too happen to me!)

Well, yeah, that is weird, but I don’t get the woe-is-me attitude about it. Telekinesis is a really cool ability. Also, turns out Dave is literally so dumb that you can be an obvious nonhuman smoking weed in bed while screaming about wanting to die and he’ll take you for an ordinary teenage girl holding a tube of chapstick.

"haha, i guess your right" he laughed (he thougt i was joking, i wasnt spoiled or anythin) 

…so did the ashtray miss?

"its so nice havin you hear tiana, your so pretty. i swear your even prettier than before! 

I can’t help but feel that the amount Dave and Marie compliment Tiaa on her looks borders on inappropriate, considering she is sixteen and they are her foster parents. 

and i think your boobs hav grown!" 

Case in point.

"yeh i no they are like an E cup now" i said.

I guess it’s a good thing she’s a vampire, then, since I’m pretty sure vampires can’t get back problems.

Wait. Can vampires get high? Does being high feel different if you’re a vampire?

Dave smiled and patted me on the head and left.

That Dave!

I was so sick of bein treated like a kid and no one listenin to me that i got up and got dresed in a long black dress and took some pills (of drugs) and went out to the local nightclub which was called Pablo NIghtmare - it was a goth club were all the cool people went in forks. 

Listen, I don’t know Washington State, but in my neck of the woods small towns don’t have goth nightclubs. 

I love that she specified the pills were drugs, in case we thought they were sugar pills or something. 

bella probably had never even heard of it, LOL! 

If there is a goth nightclub in your small town, I guarantee you everyone has heard of it.

i met snoofles on the way and he came with me. 

You’re taking the panda out clubbing?

we went to the club and got drinks and started dancing to the heavy metal music. 

…I’m starting to get very confused about Snoofles. My initial impression was that he’s a regular panda bear, but Tiaa is able to communicate with him because she’s a vampire and can talk to all animals now. But I don’t think ordinary pandas go to clubs, get drinks, and dance to heavy metal music.

Although I’ve never met one, so I could be wrong.

ppl there stared at us cos i was so diffrerent looking and Snoofles was a panda, but we didnt care we were havin so much fun we were SO drunk and had taken a lot of drugs so my head was fuzzy like there was snow everywhere.

I adore the similes in this fic. No idea what Tiaa is on but I definitely know what the author means by feeling like there’s snow everywhere in your head.

"hi your called Tiana arent you? I am Jasper and I go to your school" said Jasper Cullen who was tall with blond curly hair like straw only soft and nice and not dry. 

So… not like straw, then.

he was tall. 

Yeah, you mentioned.

he was wearin a black pulover and red metal pointy shoes. (AN - haha, that descripton sounded beter in my head, OH WELL!)

No, it’s good, I dig it. Simple goth on top, bling on the bottom, may or may not be wearing pants? It’s a look.

"hey whatever" i said. "why arent you with that girl i all ways see you with?

"you mean my GF alice," he said and locked soddenly very sad and started to cry and bite down hard on his lips.

"what is wrong Jasper?" i said

"the problem is i dont love her like she loves me. i am gay, and thats wrong, and i feel so horible about it!" 

Of course he’s gay. Look at his outfit! Look at those shoes! I can’t even see him for real and my gaydar is going wild.

"theres nothing bad about bein gay u no" i said. 

"REALLY?" he sed, and looked chocked with his mouth open.

Good on Tiaa for being an ally. I love how Jasper reacts as though he’s never considered the possibility that his gayness might be alright. He’s a vampire too and has been alive for well over a century, so that’s a lot of internalized homophobia… but he’s also been around to witness the entire modern LGBT rights movement, so you’d think he might have gotten the “it’s okay to be gay” message before.

"yeah, its proper normal and Snoofles is gay and everything" i said and Snoofles waved and Jasper waves back. 

If you just got a bad feeling about what might happen next, trust your fucking instincts.

he smiled and we all stared dancing together and Jasper gave us some of his drugs.

I really wanna know what they’ve been taking, because even though Tiaa isn’t human I feel like anyone who can get high should have to worry about drug interactions. Weed and alcohol is fine, but aside from that I have no idea what the hell Tiaa is on except that she described it as “pills” and a lot of drugs that come in pill form do not play nice with alcohol. She probably isn’t going to fry her liver or anything like that given that she’s essentially undead, but I doubt she’s immune to having a bad trip.

we had a relay good time and jasper met another gay guy called Vince and we all got in Snoofleses car at the end of the night and i drove around while the others all had sex in the back of the car. 

A note: At this point in the story I quite literally had to stop the MST for a bit so I could pour myself a very stiff drink. 

The panda has a car. The panda is having a threesome with a vampire and a human in the back of his car while another vampire drives it. This is treated as normal because the panda and his two human(oid) sexual partners happen to all be gay.

Like, I’d normally feel pretty weird about the “promiscuous gay” stereotype being invoked, but I’m way too busy feeling weird that the author thinks it’s normal for gay guys to want to screw a panda because the panda happens to be gay too. Also, keep in mind Snoofles can only talk to Tiaa — the dudes he’s having sex with can’t understand him. I’m gonna say a panda who behaves like a human and owns a car is probably capable of consenting, but I still feel mighty weird about the idea that two dudes who perceive Snoofles as an ordinary, non-talking panda would want to have a threesome with him.

I guess the promiscuity aspect isn’t even bad considering how Tiaa and Edward have been acting with each other throughout the fic. The bestiality, though, I have trouble overlooking.

(i was drunk but cos i was a vampire it was ok to drive i had beter reflex than humans!)

Sure, but do you even know how to drive? In most states, it’s not legal to get a learner’s permit until you’re Tiaa’s age, so we’re not talking “experienced driver with superhuman reflexes,” we’re talking “superhuman reflexes, but on somebody who quite possibly has never sat in the driver’s seat of a car before.”

but soddenly somethin jumped into the road infront of us and i had to stop the car and get out. there was a man standin in the middle of the road he was tall and mussely and had black hair like the black feathers of a raven in the black darkness. 

But was his black hair like the black feathers of a black raven in the black darkness? I just want to be clear on the color.

he was good looking but he looked so angry i got out my samurai sword (i often have it with me!) but somone jammed up behind me and tore it from me, there were like ten people all grabbing my body in the darkness and they put a thing over my face so i coudnt see and they tied me up! 

Oh, of course, her samurai sword. Yep. Been with her the whole time.

Jasper Snoofles and Vince were too busy doing gay sex on each other to notice, i cud hear them grunting and humping and having orgasms on each other - it was so cute but now was SO not the time! 

She’s being attacked by a group of ten or more people, who have overpowered her, restrained her, and blindfolded her, in the middle of the road. Three people (well, a person, a vampire, and a panda) are present and they don’t notice this happening at all.

Like… I know they’re all intoxicated and, uh, otherwise occupied at the moment, but did they not at least pause to notice Tiaa slamming on the brakes to avoid colliding with a stranger in the road?

The men who had caught me took me away and somethin hit me over the head and i was unconshous.

when i awoken i found myself in a small dark room and the tall mussel man was in front of me. i was strip down to my underwear and i was chained to a chair with some metal chains and i coudnt move.

Tiaa has superhuman strength and reflexes. She has telekinetic abilities. She can affect objects and people by touching them. 

Yet she can’t get out of being chained to a chair?

I call BS.

"WHO ARE YOU YOU WANKY PERV!" i shoyted.

She sounds like Wheatley from “ITS MY LIFE!” now.

"I AM JACOB...THE WEREWOLF KING!" he yelled with his eyes rolling around in his face - he looked so mad and CRAZY!

Jacob’s a big dude who can turn into a wolf, but he’s also about fifteen and just learning about the whole werewolf thing, so I doubt he’d be “king” of anything. Also Tiaa could take him easy.

"NOOOOOOO!" I scremed and i try to broke myself free but i was under so many heavy chains so i looked into his wagging face insted.

I don’t know why she reacted so negatively to Jacob’s response. There is a longstanding vampire/werewolf feud in the Twilight universe, but Tiaa is very newly turned and shouldn’t know about any of that yet. Learning your kidnapper is a werewolf sucks, but if you’re already a vampire you’ve got an edge too.

"Watt do u want from me? why am i here?" i say and i started to cry.

"YOU MUST BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT YOU DID TO BELLA SWAN!" he shreeked and the drool was sloapping down his face just like rain only thick and foam-like. 

So… not like rain, then.

"YOU ARE A HALF-BREAD! 

I’ve got to change this blog’s name right away. I don’t know what I was thinking naming it “The Half-World” when I could have named it “The Half-Bread.”

Also, hold up — what did Tiaa do to Bella? Is this just about “stealing” Edward? Jacob and Edward aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, and if Bella’s single Jacob has a chance with her, so if anything I think he owes Tiaa a thank-you.

YOU SHOUD NEVER HAVE BEEN BORNE! YOUR FATHER WAS A VAMPIRE AND YOUR MOM WAS A WHITCH! ITS WEIRD AND WRONG AND NOW YOUVE BROKEN BELLAS HEART! HALF-BREAD! HALF-BREAD! HALF-BREAD!" 

Well, this really does speak for itself.

This dude was insane, he was so angery he was jumpin up and down. 

Sounds like my second-grade teacher. She was the daughter of a well-known Republican senator and she had to resign after she tied a kid to a chair with a jump rope. True story.

But something he said had caugt my attention .

Good job on the punctuation.

"What do u mean my mom was a whitch?" I said.

What do you think he meant, genius?

"MY FATHER USED TO NO HER! SHE LIVED HERE IN LA PUSH AND SHE WAS A WHITCH! SHE COUD MAKE FIRE COME FROM NOWERE AND CONTROLL THE WETHER AND TALK TO ANIMALS AND LOADS OF OTHER STUFF! SHE WAS A FREAK LIKE U!" 

I guess this does explain Tiaa’s extra powers, but, I have to say, I don’t think Jacob gets to criticize anyone else for being freaky when he can turn into a wolf.

Of corse! It all made sense now! 

It didn’t all make sense. There’s still an interspecies gay threesome that needs explaining.

I was so shocked I fainted,

and also got my periods and commas mixed up,

When i woke up Jacob was in front of me and he was NAKED! He was smilling in a proper creepy way and looked totaly weird like a greasy frog thing and his male genital item was not nice like edwards it was like a horible wet mushroom.

Honest to god I love these similes. 

he stroked my knee with it and i gapsed. whatt was he going to do to me! 

I think I have an idea, actually.

but sudenly before he coud come any closer the door of the room we were in burst open!

IT WAS EWDARD!

Here to save the day! And to end the fic, because this is it for “Forbiden Fruit”: BeckyMac666 left us all on a cliffhanger, so we’ll never know what happens.

I do genuinely love this fanfic. I love how it’s written, I love the similes, I love the purple prose and the melodramatic tone, and I love my girl Tiaa. It’s a truly fantastic badfic, and I’m happy I got to introduce others to it, too.

[buckys-stripper-splits]

welp yall wanted to read this dumpster fire of a fic so here we go lmaoo

(TW!! alcohol mention, marijuana mention, im a sad drunk but its also funny)

Summary: i am a lightweight ass bitch and had like one single solo cup of alcohol and now we have this also im like knly like 21 words in and its alwadu a strugfle. half the typis arent becaose im drunk but because i have phat ass thumbs

Warning: ass, this is ass, literally leave, dont read, its prolly gay

Song: one ditect

*•*•*

Bucky dink's (WHO IS DINK) his teeth into Steve's nwck as he plows into jom, grunting and cursing against his sweaty neck.

"Fuck. God, baby," Steve grunts, and buvky tightens up around him out of habbit. Bucky mosns, puttong on a show as he arches his back, eyes hooded, just how steve likes.

"Yea," he mewls, lacing his velvety voice with enough chocolate to make steve shudder. "Cmon stevie fuck me. I know you got more than what youre govin me. Cmon baby, yea."

Steves hips crash against buckys and he fists a gandful of his soft brown lovks before tugging him back, so his back is at his fromt. The new angel allows steve to fuck rigjt up ahaing buckys prostate Nd it makes me sob, opened mouthed.

"Fuck, stevie yes! More, harder!"

(Brothers listen ion even know what im doing ok im so fucking tored at this point and ik im gonna regret even makong this because nothing about this os sexy. im just drink ankd alone in my fcking room at like 2:40 am ok this shit is sad. goodnight. im prolly atill gonna post this because i try and fings joy in my immemse pain. goodnight.

its a wonder i have peiple who follow me. ylla prolly gonna ungollow me after thisbshit lmao. im a sloppy drhnk km so sorry like i swear this shit is getting worse. Id rather be high. goodnight. dont drink or do drugs. drugs bad. Goodnight.

if i theow up tomorrow im actually gonna cry i havent thrown up in hears but then again i never gets hangovers so ha. ok goodnight. i hiccuped and almost puked. sorry goodnight i have ADD. goodnight fuck me im annoyong im so sorry) BUCKU IS A BOTTOM woe my ADD gets worse when im inebriated (i had to voice spell that cos im not smart) ok goodnight if i think of more shit oll prolly write it tbh because im lonely and sad HA buttercup baby is a good aong wow wtf is it calked? fuckin "build me ip buytercup" long ass name headass. still good.

SHIT WAS LOUD AS FUCK I TURNED ON BUTTERCUP BUT I HAD MY VOLUME UP COS I WAS LISTENING TO A PODFIC HOLY FUCK I FEEL SOBET

im happy. i haventbeen happy in a hot monute. anyway i turned off my autocorrect just to capture just how fucked i am lmaon. i hate that im most happy when im fucked ip like that shit aint healthy font do this shit kiddos seek therapy.

imiss my dog. i wanna do afupid shit now but i cant physicalky get jp also i have no weed. when i say stupid ahit i mean one of two thinsh: self destruct or weed. Or both. oo chile that would be awful lmao. ok goodnight deadass this tike. im gonna listent to a podfic. goodnigjt. its almost 3am. i love h mwah mwah

BITCH WAIT ok i love feminatiahipn and i blame literally all of fucking rumblr. fuck yall i love hall wow. ok. nigjt no mlre. im forcing muself to piblish this tm or shot maybe even now but isk yet. ok goodnight. Fr this tome) see i added the paraghesiss so now o camt add mlre ha.

(aaaaand imma tag @that-damn-girl cos they asked so very nicely💗🥰💗!! i hope yall enjoy lmao)

so a few months ago i attempted to write some smut while Extremely Drunk™️ and reading it back is the funniest fucking thing ive seen in a hot minute so would yall want me to post it? its only like 500 words and the majority of it makes no fucking sense

idk dudes let me know if yall wanna see it ig

[hopeheartfilia]

I just had an "one more episode" relapse

So I am watching Given, but I also gotta sleep at this point, got stuff to do tomorow