Latest Posts by imagines4abrokenheart - Page 4

Idk what to do with this but I love it

put a "∞" in my ask box and I'll shuffle my music player and give you my favorite lyric from the song that comes up.

yo please

Pollution is seductive. It's easy to fall into a wasteful habit. It's so easy that we tend to, metaphorically, fall in love with it. With it's the easiness and right off whatever anyone else says with, "I'm just to busy with work and family, I can't sort trash." Or, "I know there's a trashcan right there, but I don't have the time to walk over there." It's dangerous. It's seductive. That's why Tim Curry voices Hexes so well. His voice, the aura, you know you're powerless against him.

TFW: you remember who the villain in ferngully was...

… Pollution shouldnt look or sound like that… also… ORIGINAL WAS WORSE

Heya guys,

I just wanted to say that surgical masks do NOT protect against viruses and similar things. Surgical masks can not protect against the coronavirus. The N95 respirator (or similar masks) are a much better option. They filter out 95% of gunk in the air. I highly recommend that you use these masks instead.

Also, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, please PLEASE cough and sneeze into the inside of your shirts and arms! And, wash your hands often! Not doing so is a great way for infection to spread.

The cycle of infection:

(Note: image is not mine and credit goes to owner)

Stay safe and healthy! 💕

Fav. Lost Lighter is a 3 way tie between Rung, Minimus and Swerve

Fav. DJD is Kaon

Fav. Scavenger is Fulcrum

Fav. No grouper is Deathsaurus

a real personality test for my mtmte fans: who is your favorite lost lighter who is your favorite djd member who is your favorite scavenger who is your favorite character who doesn’t fall into any of these three groups (i.e Pharma, Deathsaurus)

*in palpatin voice* do it

send me a 🎵 and i’ll shuffle my music and respond with the song + what my favorite lyric is !!

Can you do a rung x femme reader where the reader is one of rungs patients. Preferably nsfw but fluff is cool too.

Rung X Reader - Immoral

A/N – I played about with this so much I my head, and I can finally say that I’m happy with the end result.

Warnings – NSFW / SMUT

Rating – M

How did life come to be this way? For Rung things had never been simple, but he couldn’t ever remember life being so hard either. As you laid back on the small sofa that he’d gotten for you, telling him about any problems you were having on the ship, he could barely concentrate. Instead, he was staring at your face, your eyes, your soft skin, all of your human imperfections that to him made you perfect.

‘I love you,’ he thought, and it was that single thought that caused him so much pain.

Rung had always had trouble defining the line between patient and friend, but this was far worse. He wanted to be your everything. He wanted to be your friend, confidante, only love, but all he would ever be was your therapist.

“Are you okay?” You asked and it took Rung a minute to realise that you were talking to him.

His cooling fans clicked on in embarrassment and he blushed somewhat guiltily. “Ah, yes, yes, I’m perfectly alright. I was merely reflecting on your current predicament.”

You had a feeling that wasn’t true and that Rung was distracted, though seeing as this was a first, you didn’t press the matter. “Great, then if you don’t mind, I’ll give you time to further reflect on that and maybe we can talk later… Say over drinks at ‘Visages’?”

Your invitation did nothing to sooth Rung’s tumultuous thoughts and he had to force his mind away from the possibility of a stronger relationship with you. “I’m sorry (Y/N), I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

You smiled sympathetically jumping down from his desk, “You know Rung, life will only be lonely if you treat everyone as patients instead of friends outside of work. Whether you decide to come or not, I’ll be waiting. Think on it.”

With that, you left, and Rung was sure he would be able to do nothing but ‘think on it.’ How could he not, when the possibility to be something more to you than just a therapist loomed over him.

———————————————————————————————————–

Rung stood outside “Visages” for an uncomfortably long time, wondering what he was even doing there. On one servo, he shouldn’t indulge himself by spending time outside office hours with one of his patients, but on the other servo, you were right; his life was very lonely. He paused to clean his glasses, using the time to think further on the matter.

To be fair, he could just walk in and give a cursory visit; it wasn’t as if it was forbidden to speak to you, especially after he had been invited. He did wonder however, if you would even still be there; you hadn’t specified a time, but this was extremely late organic standards.

Rung put his glasses back on with a sense of finality. He would go in, go to the bar and order a cocktail as a special treat for himself, then he would survey the area to see if you were there. If you were, he would accompany you for a short while, because it would be rude to do otherwise, and if you had already left, then Rung would be left in his own company as usual.

Rung entered the club, trying not to appear too nervous as he scanned the dim room for you. He was about to go to the bar when he spotted you in one of the corner booths. You were dancing on the table, surrounded by laughing mechs, while Getaway pushed an alcoholic drink towards you, saying you had to strip for it.

Rung flushed with fury, deducing that the crew had probably lulled you into a false sense of security, giving you drinks until you were too overcharged to say ‘no.’ It wasn’t surprising that a group of overcharged mechs would take advantage of you in such a way. Many had little experience with organics and would do just about anything to toy with the fragile beings, but this was too much. One look at your mussed-up hair, unfocused eyes, and definitive wobble and you danced was enough to tell anyone that you weren’t doing anything of your own volition anymore.

Before you could reveal any more of your stomach, Rung marched over to the table, shielding you with his servos as best he could.

“Gentlemen,” He said in his sternest tone, though it would be considered rather soft by anyone else’s standards, “I think it’s clear that (Y/N) is in need of some rest now.”

“Oooh, big talk from such a wimpy mech,” One of the voices chimed in, though the mech in question was clearly too drunk to pick a fight past rude insults.

“Yeah, come on Reng,” Getaway slurred, “She was just giving us a little show.”

“Well, the show’s over now,” Rung huffed.

“(Y/N), come on, tell glasses here that you don’t want to stop. We were having fun, weren’t we?”

You groaned, the alcohol finally hitting your system now you had stopped moving. “I don’t feel so good.”

Rung wanted to say that he was going to send a strongly worded message to their communicators and to Ultra Magnus the next cycle to punish the five mechs for their brutish behaviour, but that would have to wait because you were his first priority.

He took you from the club, carrying you carefully to your room, flinching whenever he moved to sharply causing you to groan sickly. Once in the safety of your hab-suite, he laid you down on your plush blue bed, moving your hair from your face and grabbing a glass of water for you. He was thankful for the years spent making model ships, for they gave him the grace required to use your considerably smaller items; he was also glad he had taken the time to study up on human behaviour and needs from the few mechs that had encountered organics in the past.

“(Y/N),” Rung said gently, offering the glass of water to you. “Please can you drink some of this? I think it will make you feel better.”

You murmured something that Rung couldn’t make out, reaching out for the glass of water and taking a few small sips, bringing some of the colour back to your cheeks.

“That’s a good girl, keep that up.”

You snickered, placing the glass on the bedside table, and pushing your hair out of your eyes. “Am I your good girl, daddy?”

Rung frowned, missing the organic humour, “Excuse me?”

“Rung… Why didn’t you come earlier?” You whined, momentarily forgetting your previously playful mood.

“I’m sorry I was late (Y/N). If I’d have been there- Well, I’m here now and I won’t leave till you’re well.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Overcharged is a type of sick, though I’ve heard it is easily fixed with some rest for humans.”

“We could fix it faster,” You grinned.

“Oh yes? And how do we do that?” Rung asked sweetly, all ears for anything that might make you better.

“You could fuck me.”

Rung looked at you solemnly, not getting flustered like you had expected. As a psychiatrist, he was used to the effects high-grade energon had on some Cybertronians, and he knew from Ratchet that humans weren’t much different. It was no surprise your libido was up, considering how much you had drank. He tried not to take it personally, though it hurt him to think you would have probably offered yourself to any mech that had taken you home from that god-awful abuse.

“I would say it’s better that you rest now (Y/N). Some sleep would benefit you wonderfully.”

“Aww, don’t be shy. It’s okay to have sex with someone you love, silly.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rung blushed, his cooling fans clicking on.

You flopped down on your bed exasperatedly. “Tailgate told me. He said, ‘Rung and (Y/N) riding in the ship, if he proposed it would be hip.’ And he’s right, that rhyme was dope.”

Rung sighed, wondering how many other mechs knew of his feelings towards you, other than Tailgate.

“Buuuuuuuuut,” You drawled, “When you are right, which is always, then you are right. And that means that consent is important. Whatever you wear an wherever you go, YES MEANS YES AND NO MEANS NO! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

Rung grabbed a Cybertronian sized chair, sitting down whilst sighing deeply, his processor whirring through methods that might help the situation, though he came up empty. “(Y/N), please…” He begged brokenly.

As if his sheer tone soothed you, you gave him a thumbs up, “Okay, got it. Sleeping the night away. You don’t like the nightlife, or to boogie. I get it, and I will sleep with or without you, beautiful.”

Rung said nothing and simply waited until you did as you promised and went to sleep. He remained there all night to keep an eye on you in case your intoxication caused you any further problems, and all the while he feared what your relationship would become in the morning. It was bad enough you pitied him enough to offer yourself for a night, but what would you say when you were sober? One thing was for sure; he couldn’t go back to calling you his patient ever again. Rung took off his glasses, and with one cursory check to make sure you weren’t going to wake up, he turned off his vocaliser and began to cry.

———————————————————————————————————–

When you awoke, you were glad not to have a hangover, remembering the copious amount of alcohol you had consumed the previous night. Although your head was alright, you still had to wrinkle your nose in disgust at the awful taste lingering in your mouth; there could be no doubt that your breath was strong enough to kill a horse.

You didn’t dare get up just yet, remembering with great regret the way you had acted the previous night. It was horrifying that you had let Getaway and his gang take advantage of you in such a manner, but what was worse was the things you had said to Rung. How would he react, you wondered, when you were to next speak to him? You tried not to cry, thinking that you had probably ruined your relationship with him forever. You obviously knew he had feelings for you and naturally, you had feelings for him, but after acting in such a crass manner you were sure Rung wouldn’t want to have anything more to do with you; he was so genteel and chivalrous.

The gentle hum of a fan slowly caught your attention and you turned your head to find an exhausted looking Rung sat watching you from his chair next to the door.

“Oh God,” You cringed, pinching the bridge of your nose exasperatedly. Of course he was there. He was a gentleman, and he would never leave you in a moment of need. Well, at least you didn’t taste vomit which meant that you only had to deal with your drunk horny vulgarity without adding gross organic matter to the list as well.

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?” Rung asked quietly, putting your needs before his own as he did with anyone.

“Physically, I’m peachy. Emotionally… Rung, I am so sorry for last night. I would never have said those things like that if I hadn’t been-”

Rung held up his servo, acting as maturely as ever, “It is quite alright (Y/N). I am sure there will be some repercussions about last night that we can discuss later, but for now… Well, we don’t need to discuss the matter any further.”

He got up to leave, only stopping at the door when you called for him to wait. He faced you, waiting for whatever was to come, however unpleasant it might be. You had already broken his spark upon telling him you never would have said such things sober, what more damage could you possibly do?

“I cannot let you put this conversation off Rung. I think we need to talk about this right now… Actually, in five minutes when I’ve brushed my teeth, but I can put that off if you’re going to leave.”

Holding back a sigh, Rung sat back down in the chair, allowing you time to freshen up first. Once you were reasonably clean and dressed, you sat back down on the edge of your bed, respecting the boundaries he had laid out, though you longed to be closer to him.

“Okay, so…” You swallowed somewhat anxiously. “I um- Well, I already told you what Tailgate said, but I never asked you how you feel. I’m going to ask now, and please answer truthfully, Rung, are you really in love with me?”

After everything that had happened since Rung set foot in that awful club last night, he found no point in lying and further making the situation worse. He took his glasses off to look you directly in the eyes, answering solemnly, “Yes.”

“For how long?”

That was a more difficult question for Rung to answer. How did one truly tell when fondness became affection, and affection became love? He supposed it must have been during your sessions together, when you would often speak not as a patient, but as a friend. All the same, Rung found an answer forming on his lips, “Since you started staying over in my sessions, even though I didn’t ask you to.”

“Right… Then can I say just one more thing to clear things up?”

Rung gazed at you with optics filled with melancholy, wondering just how long you could prolong his suffering.

“Here, now, sober, I want you to know that my heart belongs to you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rung’s mouth hung open.

“I don’t know if you believe in soulmates, but I do, and I can tell you, even before we met, I was yours.”

Rung shook his head, repeatedly whispering “no,” whilst trying not to cry again. It couldn’t be true. It had to be some residual effects of the alcohol, and yet there you were, telling him that you loved him back. “(Y/N), this is wrong, we can’t- I’myour psychiatrist- I-”

Rung wasn’t sure when you had approached him, but he was silenced when you climbed onto his lap. Reverently, you pressed your lips to his, not lingering too long.

“Did that really feel wrong to you, Rung?” You asked.

He shook his head, yet still finding an argument in him, he pleaded with you, “But, my ethical code…”

“Go against your ethics. Let me love you.”

———————————————————————————————————–

Rung moaned as you rested on his chassis, sucking his lower lip in your much smaller mouth. He hadn’t meant for things to go so far so quickly, but after you reciprocated his feelings for him, he couldn’t bear to part with you. He had only meant to kiss you once, but after countless time yearning for one-another, neither of you could stop.

He shuddered as you stroked the sensitive casing of his spark. Did you know how crazy you were driving him?

“I love you,” You breathed between kisses, moving to the left so you could tug at his neck cables; you had heard somewhere or other that this was hot for Cybertronians and you hoped it was true.

Rung gasped, throwing his head back.

“Sorry,” You cringed. “Did that hurt?”

Usually, Rung would correct your behaviour and tell you that tugging neck cables was only for couples who trusted each other wholeheartedly after years of experience. Yet, feeling your small hands reach places he’d never considered being touched was unbelievably erotic and he found himself placing all his trust in you when he shook his head and spoke raggedly, “Please, do it again.”

You smirked, glad that the seedy talk of other mechs had paid off as you tugged at Rung’s neck cables again, running your tongue and teeth over them afterwards.

Wanting to repay the pleasure you were giving him in full, Rung dared to ask, “What feels good to humans (Y/N)? I want to please you.”

You tugged off your shirt and bra, leading Rung’s servos to your breasts, “You could never fail to please me, my darling, but here is a good place to start.”

Rung kneaded your soft flesh tenderly, delighting in the sounds you made when his thumb glided over your sensitive nipples.

“Fuck. That’s so good~” You whispered.

Despite your praise, Rung paused to frown.

“Rung, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just- I’m- Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to rush you.”

You crossed your arms over your bare chest somewhat self-consciously, a light blush creeping over your cheeks, “Do you not want to do this with me?”

Rung cursed himself for hurting your feelings. There was nothing he wanted more, but the fear of complicating your relationship scared him. Instead, he took hold of your hands, removing them from your chest so he could admire you. “My spark, I want nothing more than to devour you here and now, but I need to know that you are ready for this.”

“Rung, I have a wetness between my legs right now that says I am absolutely ready for this.”

“Then please, allow me to tend to that, my spark,” Rung purred, switching positions so you were on the floor and he was looming over you. When you stripped the rest of your clothes off, Rung made sure you knew exactly how beautiful he found you, especially your beautiful organic valve, which he lapped at with the tip of his tongue. He was careful not to delve too deeply in case you couldn’t take his size, though he longed for a day in the future when he had prepared you enough to take not only his tongue, but his spike as well.

“Fuck,” You groaned as your hips bucked against his tongue, dripping your own arousal down your thighs. He was making such a mess of you already and you couldn’t even repay him in the state you were in. You managed to look up, finding that Rung had one of his servos on his spike, rubbing beads of trans-fluid from the tip while he serviced you.

“Please, keep talking like that,” Rung begged raggedly. “I need to know I’m doing a good job.”

“I want more of you, big boy. You better lap up all that cum if you truly want to devour me.”

Rung wasted no time, moaning as he lapped up your sweet juices. Tonight would be all about you; you had given him your love, so the least he could do was give you a good orgasm.

“Ahh, shit~” You bit your knuckles as Rung hit what he figured to be your anterior node. He grew ever more confident with his mouth as your legs started quivering around his mouth. “Fuck, Rung! You’re- Fuck- You’re finishing me off too soon.”

Granted, the two of you hadn’t been at it long, but Rung wanted desperately to see your face when you climaxed; he would be sure to hold that memory forever.

“Let go (Y/N). I want to taste your overload. Let me drink in your lust,” He smiled, going straight back to work on your clitoris until you were reduced to a squeaking mess, unable to say anything but his name.

You felt your body practically melt and you screamed in the throes of pleasure as you orgasmed against Rung’s mouth.

He dragged his tongue from your vagina to your thighs, drinking in the reward he had earned.

“Beautiful,” He purred, “As I suspected.”

You wanted to say something witty or charming in return, but you only managed to gasp as Rung went right back to work, playing with your breasts. He had only just got you, and he would be sure to show his love and appreciation for you all night long.

———————————————————————————————————–

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Thank you so much for giving me the go ahead to request the matchup for Transformers MTMTE 💜I'm a 21 yr old female who dresses more androgynous. I'm also a Pisces so Im pretty reserved when i first meet people and tend to be very introverted. My morality is very situational but I live by "Do no harm, take no sh*t". I enjoying writing, playing RPG video games(the dirty secret is I love fps too). Im on the spectrum for autism and have trouble with textures/physical contact. Sorry it's long(1/2)

I match you with Ratchet and Drift!

You and Ratchet got together before you even knew who this Drift was who Ratchet left Lost Light and you for. You heard about him from Ratchet and by what you heard you knew he harbored feelings not only towards you but also for the swordsmech. So with your blessing, Ratchet set out to find Drift and bring him back where he belongs.

Next time you two meet is in the middle of the battle against Decepticon Justice Division and knowing it might be the end of you all Ratchet introduces you and Drift to each other and you click immediately.

It’s your moral code, “Do no harm, take no shit” that captures Drift’s attention. What an interesting saying, is it from Earth? He likes it, it reminds him of Ratchet, which to the doctor grumbles, “We’re Autobots and we certainly don’t take this from those scrappy Decepticons!”

After the battle is over you three settle the things and to Ratchet’s joy, you and Drift like each other. The relationship may begin anew!

You have been writing ever since Ratchet left but your computer and everything you hold dear is in Lost Light that Getaway hijacked. Maybe it’s for the best, I mean, most of them were love poems, stories and novels so they could be a little bit embarrassing.

Drift loves playing RPG games with you and he plays as Lawfully Good and you have to tell him the sad truth that you can’t date a Krogan yet in these games. He can’t wrap his helm around the idea that humans haven’t developed a romantic route to Wrex, he is a catch! No one has the heart to play as the bad guy in this relationship expect from Ratchet but he has better things to do than to play some stupid shooting game where you can romance an alien. It takes you to blurt out that “That’s how you got me!” and Ratchet grumbles stubbornly and demands to get the controller, “Let me show how the best generation does it.”

Ratchet is a great medic, but he can only heal your scraped knee. When you first started dating and Ratched had left, he had insisted you see Rung. He should have been able to help to put your mind at ease. When Drift learns about your condition he tries to get you to meditate with him. You don’t need to touch in it and it improves your mind and anxiety.

Two of them get you a birthday present from Brainstorm. It’s a 3D first-person shooting game, made to be the most lifelike gaming system there is. Not only can you actually shoot with a finger on your trigger if you want, but it can also make popcorn and you can play it with friends or lovers! You go crazy on those zombies in Call Of Duty and as  Ratchet and Drift offer you backup against the living dead you keep making these dark jokes and puns. Ratchet retires, Drift takes the vow of silence, but no matter what they do, they can’t escape the puns. The puns that Drift can stand are light-hearted jokes.

Tumblr: *rolls out “best stuff first”*

My blog:

Ok so, this was on my FB and I recorded it on my phone cause it was just too cute I could not not share this. And so, I resent to you...!

Dancing Robot Noodle!!!

I love him💜💜💜

Been having a very bad 2 weeks thus far, good use some good luck.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

>:3

hey i have literally no coherent sense of humour and i make eight things like this a week

Update..of sorts

Hey guys, I'm in a funk currently. Stress with work, living situation and just general depression has left me creatively drained. I currently don't feel confident in my abilities to fill any requests. I'm gonna try to write to maybe see if my inspiration will come back to me- but I think this is one of those things I just have to wait for it to pass.

Ok so this was waaay more fun then I thought it was going to be! 💜

Found this cute 8-bit picrew. :3

Feel free to chain!

A lot of the time though when people hear or read the word critical, they view it as the negative. We need to change, in a social sense, what the word critical and critical analysis means.

To add to this and explain what I mean, I look at characters critically when I like them. I find their flaws and perfections and see how they intermingle to make a character I like. I examine how that characters past as influenced their present and how it may influence their future.

From a narrative standpoint, I pick apart what makes a piece of literature I like to find out more about it. I use those ELA classes I took in Middle/HS and I put them to use in everything I read. I try to understand the story for what it is and what it could be trying to say between the lines. I look for all the negative and the positive and I ask, "What, When, Why and How?"

All aspiring authors should try to do this, with professional and non-professional(free content, like Fanfics) to see how their favorite authors convey emotions, tell a scene, etc. The people around you, be they famous or not, can teach you so much- you just have to look for the golden nuggets of themselves they sprinkled into their works.

I think the people who say “You don’t need to be critical of every piece of media you consume” fundamentally misunderstand what we mean by “critical”.

When we say “be critical of the media you consume” we don’t mean “be negative” as in, find every flaw and pick it apart CinemaSins style.

We mean “examine it”. Like, look at what you are consuming, and in many cases, enjoying, and ask yourself why you are enjoying it. Ask yourself who made it. Ask yourself if you are the target audience. Ask yourself if you are being represented by the characters you see. Ask yourself if the author has biases or political leanings they are trying to include in the story.

Just, ask yourself questions. The answers don’t have to be negative. That’s not what being critical means.

When you're writing and you suddenly realize you don't know what happens next

how would the mtmte bots of ur choosing react to being called dad/mom?

Human Liaison!Verse because the concept has suddenly stolen my heart. ❤ I did a whole bunch of these (the officers, plus some more i thought would be brilliant) bc I got very big Brooklyn 99 Vibes(tm) from this one and that also gave me some Big Feelings.

Human!Liaison, distractedly: Oh, thanks Dad. Wait no-

-

Rodimus: You got it, kid! [cheesy thumbs-up]

-

Drift: No problem. Remember, dinner’s at seven. Mom (Ratchet) made lasagna.

-

Magnus: [definitely not about to cry] I... you’re welcome, child... 

-

Megatron: No.

-

Swerve: Hey, no prob, squirt! Just, uhh, don’t tell uncle Magnus 'bout this, okay?

-

Rung: Do you really think of me as a father figure, [Y/N]?

-

Whirl: Got your back, punk. HEY EVERYBODY!! SEE THIS KID?! MY KID NOW. MESS WITH [Y/N], YOU ANSWER TO ME.

-

Rewind: ...that is it, I’m adopting you. Have you seen your other dad? We need to have a chat. Domey? Hey, c'mere! You have to meet our new-

-

Ratchet: I’m not your dad, kid.

First Aid, from the hallway: [Maury voice] YOU are NOT the father!

-

Tailgate: [head pats] Of course, sweetie. Anytime.

Tailgate, running away: CYCLONUS!!! CYCLONUS WE’RE DADS NOW-

When I was in that situation I kept my journals that had story ideas/fanfic starters I would hide them between my bed and wall, under my pillow, behind my dresser and between my mattress/boxspring or mattress/floor. It was cheap, did the job and kept my journals in good condition when I was not using them.

Sorry your going through that tho, that really sucks and I wish you luck on it getting better.

I live with people who refuse to respect my privacy. Fellow writers who are like me and enjoy writing on paper more than typing on a computer, how do you keep all your notes and notebooks private? Any ideas?

*hugs* I’m sorry that you need this kind of advice, anon. That’s a terrible situation to be in. 

My first thought is to buy a hardcover journal and get the same size hardcover book at a thrift shop. Redonate the book but keep the book jacket and put it over the journal. Then it will blend in with the other books on your shelf - as long as you don’t use bookmarks/stickers etc. or paste in photos or other items. That would make it obvious that it isn’t just another book. It would also help if the paper in the journal was cream coloured rather than white. 

Anyone else have ideas?

When you have a bad writing session and someone asks how it went...

Honestly, it's all situational. If you have started PM the author and growing an acquaintance(or they are even your friend) with said author then just going offline and not talking(ghosting- which is not just used as a term for friendships/romantic relationships.) The author might worry about you and your health, etc. Personally, I'd just message and let them know that something in the fic didn't sit right with you and that you don't think your gonna continue reading it, etc.

If you have an acquaintance with the author you should end the communication in a mature and civil manner. Even if that is over a fanfiction taking a turn you didn't like.

Personally, as a fanfic writer myself(and avid reader) I don't mind if someone tells me my fic isn't their cup of tea. I know the things I write aren't for everyone and that's totally chill. My only problem is when said reader is getting mean and trying to tell me how to write my fanfic. I trust my readers to stop reading when things get uncomfortable for them. Plus some advice, always re-read the tags when a new chapter is updated! Authors should always add tags when the theme of the story has changed and so you should be given a clear idea of how the fic is going to be before reading it. This is just to keep you safe, as I tag my fics appropriately and except my readers to read them. If you feel the fic was under tagged, either you approach the author in PMs or comment on the fic, or ask a friend to comment for you if your scares/nervous. Most authors aren't going to be upset with you or mean if you critic their tagging/writing choice unless you yourself are being mean.

Also, as readers, who I'm assuming want more content that you like reading, need to interact in some fashion with the content you are reading. Sometimes, like on Tumblr, likes aren't enough to get more of the content you love. I'm not saying you have to comment every time you read a fic, but if you can(and the content your reading would be enjoyed by a friend or would fit in with the content on your blog) please share it. I understand that a lot of us don't like commenting on things or sharing them, but sometimes that's why fandoms die- because we don't push ourselves out of our comfort zones to send a short little comment saying, "I love this!" Or even just hitting that reblog/share button.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk *dips out*

Is there a nice way to nope or of a fic that you started to really like, but then it took a turn down a path you don't care to venture? I don't want to hurt the writers feelings by saying anything, but I also feel like just suddenly being MIA and no longer reading/commenting is mean in itself???

If you’re friends with the author, then I think you could explain yourself via private message here on tumblr or discord or wherever else you chat with them. Most people in fandom get it when something just doesn’t work for you, and we know that it doesn’t mean you’re noping out of us as a person, just out of that one story. There probably won’t be any hard feelings there.

If you’re a reader who has commented but otherwise doesn’t know the author, it might be better to ghost. 

Leaving that kind of thing in a comment is sort of awkward because everyone else can see it. Noping out quietly might make the author wonder where you are, but everyone gets busy sometimes and people leave fandoms and sometimes you don’t notice a subscription email. 

That’s what I prefer when it comes to my fics, at least. What about the rest of you?

REBLOG IF YOU WANT A LOVE LETTER FROM A FICTIONAL CHARACTER IN YOUR ASK BOX NOW

Heyo! Life update!

I'm not dead! I've just got a new job with new hrs and I work 7 days a week as a live in nurse. What free time I have is normally spent vegging out and sleeping. I have my original fanfics nearly done and my request nearly done writing tho! So, I know I say this a lot, but sh*t will get done and it will be amazing cause even if I procrastinate like a MF my work are always spectacular so the wait was worth it! 💜💜💜💜💜

I do have a favor to ask tho to anyone who sees my content, please share it! Even if it's a link to my content sent to a different app to a person/group you might think will enjoy it. Likes are great and I adore getting them, but sharing would be even more helpful cause it gets my stuff out there. Also commenting on my content or sensing me things in anon just to talk to me(you don't even have to say anything amazing, just Hi is fine!💜)

The HP fandom will glorify a group of privileged white boys who habitually and purposefully made life miserable for kids less fortunate than them who couldn’t fight back simply because they were bored and thought it was fun. Because apparently never apologizing or doing anything to make up for their behavior, only stopping bullying when they were out of school (the SWM scene is after the werewolf incident, even almost killing Severus didn’t make them at all hesitant about casually tormenting him) and continuing to treat Severus like shit and make excuses for themselves into adulthood is “growing up and changing” aka doing NOTHING for redemption except be conventionally attractive white boys that fans want to gush over.

But the HP fandom will demonize a queer-coded, impoverished, mentally ill abuse victim who was manipulated into an extremist group as a vulnerable, isolated teenager (which, The Marauders directly contributed to said trauma and isolation) by Tom Riddle who at the time was not a snake-man that everyone knew to be evil but an extremely manipulative young “activist”. Because apparently spending the rest of his life putting himself in mortal danger, enduring torture, and choosing to sacrifice all his happiness to oppose that group he was manipulated into joining + fundemantally changing his beliefs “Don’t use that word (Mudblood)!” is “doing nothing for redemption” because it’s easier to write off characters that aren’t hot and fun. It’s easier to write off characters that make you think about uncomfortable things like privilege and abuse, and how these things twist potentially selfless and loving boys into angry men; how predators like Tom Riddle can warp these boys into their puppets, disrupting their lives forever.

It’s easier to write off Severus Snape and gush over your headcanon versions of The Marauders, but that doesn’t mean it’s right.

due to personal reasons i will be *skyrim npc death sound as i rag doll to the floor*

UPDATE

It has been a while! Christmas came and went for my fam and I, then a few family dramas and wifi was turned off. But, I am back! In between breaks from work and just life in general, I'll be posting filled requests!

I remember you said that you like horror, and I was curious. Do you do requests for dead by daylight? Or anything else horror related?

Yeah, I do Michael Myers, Freddie, Jason, And Budda. I don't play dead by daylight tho, so I only know like, bare minimum from trailers for the game.

I am pretty creative tho, if you have a non-horror thing you want written scary I can totally do that too.

Thank you so much for doing my request! To answer your question, the only story like this that I was going to request was the predator one. But I was telling my friend about Tumblr's I follow and I mentioned the story you wrote for me. So he asked me to request an Android 18 version of it. But I really like the way you write. Most people who do requests only write a few paragraphs. But you go the extra mile and make it feel like a real story with detail! So I just wanna say again, thanks.

I'm very happy to hear that! Yeah, I love writing, it's my passion. I don't mind too much what I write(as long as I'm familiar with the source material) but I always do try to above and beyond. Especially for people requesting stuff, because I really wanna showcase my talent and show them how grateful I am for the request!

Honestly, this story was very fun to write. I love writing outside of what I normally do and facesitting for domination is definitely something I haven't done until you requested it! It really helped me expand my own knowledge too since I looked into it.

My request is kinda similar to my first one. (Dragon Ball) Android 18 (Destroyed Future Version) Finding a guy hiding out from the Androids. But she thinks he is cute so she decides to make him her boyfriend. (Even if he likes it or not) But if she catches him trying to escape she sits on his face to teach him a lesson, having his face trapped under her booty until she is sure he will be faithful to her

I gotta ask, what’s your obsession with women sitting on dudes faces to show dominance? I’m not judging, but what is so fascinating? Also, sorry this took so long but I tried to go extra, so I hope you like it!CW: Male reader, Mentions of gore(very brief), POV switching(Only once), Facesitting to show dominance, male submission, mentions of enslavement and forced pet play. 

Queen of Apathy’s new pet

The buildings stand in defiance of the people who fell. They are no vulnerable flesh but concrete and steel, not as timeless as the mountains that ring the city but able to outlast the civilization that created them by centuries. Given enough time even the smooth grey will give way to a jungle of green and this “ancient” civilization will lay ruined for future generations to discover and perhaps piece together how we lived. I wonder if they'll know how we, with all our labor-saving devices could barely glean six hours sleep, and even when the opportunity to rest came our stress levels kept us unwillingly awake. But for now, all I can do is walk ant-like between the monoliths, grey at my feet, grey at every side, under a carpet of grey that promises nothing but a storm. In the end, it was not our using up of resources that killed us. It was our arrogance and lust for technology that doomed us, for it was man’s own created machines that slaughtered us simply because they could.

A bleak, thin wind it was, like a fine sour wine, searching the marrow and bringing no bloom to the cheek. A thick dreariness that hung in the air and condensed in my lungs making it difficult to breathe. The sky swirls, ominous clouds tinted with the blood of the fallen which had turned to mist in the heat of their death, curling together like a serpent. These clouds were followed by the sudden burst of lightning, sometimes flashing bolts of pure energy seem to stand for long moments around certain buildings. Count one, count two, count three, then, came explosions of thunder in great waves of discordant and demented sounds. The noise level became so intense that it rattled what few windows were still intact. The wind raised to the level of a thousand howling hounds.

I bend forward, pulling my hood over my head and picking up my pace. I run into an abandoned building, the rain pounds against my back like bullets. By the time I get to my sanctuary, I am soaked to the bone and stand shivering like a rat just pulled from the water. My teeth clatter together to create a melody with my pounding heart as it thumps against my ribcage. I drop the hood of my jacket down, it slaps onto my back with a wet splat that has a small, childish chuckle leaving me at the obscene noise. I breathe slowly, in then out to still my heart and relax my tense muscles. They hadn’t been seen in some time and so I had volunteered to go out to scavenge the cities with a small group. I had wondered away from the others, I wanted to see my old apartment and try and scavenge what I could from it- at least pick up a few of my old toys for the kids back home, I knew they could use that cheering up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If apathy was a person, Dr. Gero once said, her skin would be pale from lack of sun and her limbs would seem to thin and long for her torso. Her hair would be as pale gold as wheat overdue for harvest, swaying in the wind and eyes of a clouded sky on a summer day. Her voice would be of a viola, slow and even with the hint of more emotion under a stone facade of uninterest. If apathy was a person, I would be her. Through all his constant monologuing, that was the few things I remember. Apathy, yes I am apathy. Nothing is as interesting anymore, if things were different would I still be apathetic? Possibly, what could be stronger than my brother and I?

Flying over this broken cityscape brings more waves of disinterest, constant boredom that gnaws like an insistent rat at the back of my mind. It burrows itself in my bones and tightens my muscles to the point I feel I may explode if I don’t find something to do. My eyes scan below me, surely scavenge teams have been sent out? Surely, one human will be foolish to walk out in the open. I close my eyes, crossing my arms and weaving around buildings in frustrating ease that spoke volumes for the monotony of my current life. However, I jerk to a halt. A noise, soft and near blending into the rain that mops my hair. Feet, running. My eyes scan the area now on full alert and spot the retreating form of someone running into a building. A smirk dances onto my lips and I fly higher into the sky, knowing the building had a hole on one side of the roof. As I approach the roof I can hear it chuckle, a deep sound. A male. I descend at a quicker pace, peeking inside to get a feel of the situation before chuckling myself.

A lone guy soaked to the bone and thinking he was safe. How...pathetic. Truly, apathy did not feel like this. I landed silently, his back still turned to me. Surely, he had heard me or was he so enraptured with his escape from the rain that he was truly oblivious. I stand behind him, a sudden wave of giddy anticipation for what I could do this human thumping through my body from head to toes. He was none the wiser to my presence just behind him. I could blast a hole through his back, strangle him from behind or if I don’t mind getting dirty, I could rip his intestines out as he slowly bleeds to death and watch as the life leaves his eyes. However, we are both startled as he turns abruptly and he screams, throwing himself back against a wall. For my part, my eyes only widen a margin before I am closing in on him.

My hand snaps up and my fingers wrap around his neck, feeling his quickened pulse against my palm. His own hands fly up to grip my wrist and he struggles to breathe. He gasps, eyes glassing over and mouth gaping like a fish. His hair is tousled and wet, clinging to his forehead and his eyes look frantically at my face and at the things behind me. He begs, only barely with my crushing grasp. My head tilts, my own eyes flickering around his face and body. For a human, he was attractive I could suppose. More of an endearing cuteness added to the fact of how weak he was, it was like seeing a puppy. Your instinct to kill it diminished when it gave you pleading eyes and soft, high pitched whines. My hand unlocks from around his reddened throat and he drops to the floor. His hands now feeling around his throat as he coughs and sputters, trying to scoot further back into the wall and appear as none threatening as possible.

I rest my hands on my hips, thinking. If I killed him now, it would be boring again. I’d fall right back into the rut I was in before with nothing to do. However, if I kept him around I could have endless amount of fun. I could make him do useless chores, do tricks like a dog. 17 wouldn’t be happy at first, but he did say I could have anything I wanted and perhaps, at least for the time being, I could keep him on a leash. If he got boring I could torture the location of the other humans out of him and get a new toy. What to do now, though? He seems submissive enough but what would really drive home the fact he is laughably weak compared to me?

A smirk slowly drew up my lips and my pearly white teeth exposed themselves. I knelt before him, grinning like a shark as I slowly undid my belt. If it worked in the animal kingdom, surely it would work for this. He was just a dog now. I stared in down as he watched in abject horror as I grasped my belt in hand. “Your hands. Put them out in front of you.” I practically purr out, I couldn’t have him thinking he could try to get away and if his hands were bound he wouldn’t be able to stop me. He doesn’t listen at first, stares blankly at me before I snap the belt. That jolts him into action and he presents his hands as if he were expecting to get handcuffs. I chuckle, “Used to being bound, are we?” I cooe before quickly binding his hands together with my belt. I then stand, stepping on the extra belt and effectively pinning his hands to the ground between his legs.

I turn my body, my foot that stands on the belt simply twisting with me instead of picking it up. I could hear him swallow and it causes a chuckle to work its way out of me. I then grab a fistful of his hair, using it as an anchor. “You’re pathetic, a dog. A lowly mutt that serves no purpose but for my entertainment.” I then lean back, pressing my ass to his face. He struggles but I keep his arms and head still as I grind.

“Do you understand? You belong to me now. I am your master, your Alpha and you are nothing but an omega who lives to serve me until the day I decide you are useless.” My voice is chipper, giddy at the end and I laugh. My eyes sparkle with a level of pure delight, not even killing can accomplish these days.

He whimpers like a dog, body going limp and I can feel him nod, agreeing to whatever I say. I pull away, he gasps for breath that I had stolen from him for a second time. I step away, throwing him to the ground and he lands on his side. His eyes are red and puffy, wetness now from crying running down his cheeks. His face is a deep red from my action and he shivers from a combination of cold, fear and pure humiliation. My head tilts up, looking down at him from my nose and my hands go back to my hips.

I may be the personification of Apathy, but that does not mean I can’t take an interest in something.

Christmas party!

I got invited to my dad Christmas party on the condition that I helped plan it, so that took up a lot of free time! But within the hr I should have new content posted! A well, overdue fic request and maybe some original content outside of requests as well!