Me When Lacking Motivation To Write I Will Get To Those Requests People Im Just. No Brain.

me when lacking motivation to write 🥴 i will get to those requests people i’m just. no brain.

Hello new mood 💜💜

this was ages ago and idk why i've only responded now but it's so very iconic that we both changed from kpop pfps to evan pfps lmfao. we have evolved

You’re So Golden

yoongi x reader, taehyung x reader (fem)

Yoongi didn’t know what being loved felt like, and he thought he could find that love in you. - phantom of the opera!au

WRITING PROGRESS

— 26% complete

STAGE 1 - PLANNING (1% - 25%)

STAGE 2 - WRITING (25% - 50%)

STAGE 3 - EDITING (51% - 75%)

STAGE 4 - FINAL TOUCHES (76% - 99%)

STAGE 5 - POSTING (100%)

Ok I just had this thought. Like, how would 1990!Erik react to the reader calling him "Songbird" bc of his beautiful voice?

adding it to the list rn 🏃 love that

i’m going to see phantom of the opera in the west end this weekend, i dont think i’ve ever been so excited spending so much money in my life !!! i’m gonna be on a writing high for ages after this i can feeelll itttttt

Hell Hole. - Tate Langdon

Pairing: AHS Tate Langdon x GN!Reader

Summary: Secrets can’t possibly stay hidden in a home that was built on the betrayal of deceit and ruin. Tate had figured that out by now.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Violet tells you about what Tate did, and you can’t look at him the same again after.

Warnings: if you could handle watching AHS, you can handle this i thinks. Angst, no comfort, kind of a cliffhanger ending. A part 2 may be in order if requested lol. This is very not proof read pls forgive it i just wanted to write s o me th in g.

He should’ve known. Really, very truly should’ve known that he wouldn’t have been able to move on so easily. That he wouldn’t have been able to escape the wrongdoings of his past, the horrors of the sins he committed against the innocent. It was only right he was standing where he was right now, mind racing miles upon miles a second as he tried to grasp the reality painfully painted in front of him.

You, who was standing in front of him, tear stained cheeks that were burning red like rubies. Eyes puffy and undeniably sore, strained and stinging as you wiped away the salty manifestations of your grief. It broke him to see his angel so distressed, his saviour in such a state of loss and hurt. He thought he’d been damned the day Violet told him to leave for good, damned to pay for his evil ways; cooped up in the basement with the other poor souls crying for what they had lost.

But then you arrived.

Many families had come and gone before then- ones that were broken, strained and whole. Mothers, fathers, daughters and sons, infants and pets had walked the halls of the house, only to be shortly chased away not long after. Nothing ever was permanent, and nothing ever seemed permanent for Tate, not until you came along. Ben and Vivienne were done chasing homeowners out, they no longer wanted to dedicate their deaths to preventing others from a similar fate. They’d grown tired, like everybody else had. This had only wrongfully convinced Tate further that your arrival was meant to be.

Tate almost wanted to laugh at how stupid he’d been. This light, this saviour, this god, this cruel demonstration of fate, you, were just the world’s way of tragically repeating history all over again. Less in terms of casualties, but in terms of heartbreak? Tate was almost sure he was about to drop dead all over again, if it wasn’t for the sliver of desire he held deep in his heart. What if you did forgive him? Could you be able to look past what he’d done, accept it and love him for all of what he was? Unlikely.

“Violet told me,” you choked, hair a mess and clothes crumpled from the strength of your fists clutching onto them for dear life, “she told me everything, Tate, everything.”

He swallowed the fear building in his throat, eyes nervously darting around the room. He was desperate to approach you, to get closer and cocoon you in his arms and act like this wasn’t happening right now. He shouldn’t have ever come out of the basement, he thought bitterly.

“Come on,” he begged, panting even though he didn’t have functioning lungs to fill. His chest pounding even though he didn’t have a heart capable of beating. “Please, what I did wasn’t me. Believe me, you gotta.”

“Believe you? I saw your fucking picture on the articles, Tate. You fucking killed those students in cold blood,” you hissed, running a shaking hand through your hair. Your temper was rising, didn’t he have shame? Was he even sorry?

“But it wasn’t me!”

“How was it not you? You were the one with the gun! You were the one that pulled the trigger! You were the one who assaulted and killed Violet’s mother! The one responsible for two other people who are doomed here!”

“No, no not like that. I mean-“ he sobbed, “please, i know i did it. All of it. But it wasn’t me. I’m so sorry.”

You scoffed. Tate visibly winced, eyes building up with tears as he shook violently. You couldn’t help but feel disgusted, stomach turning and nose scrunching as you took in his state. How could he have the audacity to be in such despair when he’d ended and ruined lives?

Somehow, you could still see the Tate you knew in him. The Tate who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who would do anything to see you giddy and smiling, who was yours. But knowing the reality, also meant you knew you had to toss that bullshit behind you. You couldn’t feel this way towards him anymore. Your stomach turned just thinking of the monster he was under all the lies he meticulously fed you. He wasn’t innocent and he knew that this whole time.

“I’m going,” you said hastily, hands flying up in defeat as you stormed out of your bedroom. The bedroom you now realised previously belonged to the now dead school shooter and also your recent ex, Tate Langdon. “Don’t fucking show yourself when I come back.”

You didn’t entirely understand everything, I mean, how could you? You’d gone from believing you had a perfect goofy, adorably-odd boyfriend, to finding out he was dead with a criminal record and multiple bodies under his belt. At first you didn’t fully accept Violet’s babbling as she rambled off about all the suffering he’d caused, until she snatched your phone and pulled up what had confirmed your fears. The truth was right in front of your eyes, and there was no option for you to avoid it for it was blinding- and, what was more devastating, a measly google search away this whole time.

You were a fool.

“No! Please, you can’t!” he cried, hands coming up to yank at his blonde strands, his demeanour visibly closing in on himself. His body language screamed frightened, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care.

You ignored his protests, although your tears continued to stream as you listened halfheartedly to his pleas. It wasn’t your place to forgive, and you’d certainly never be able to forget.

And with those last thoughts, you stepped out of your bedroom door and flew down the stairs. Your parents were both at work, so nobody was home to question why you were so frantic to leave the house. You’d have no choice but to be home later, but everything in the moment seemed to be screaming at you to leave.

“You’re all I have! Stay! Please!” he bounded down the stairs after you, pitiful screams narrowly escaping his aching throat. “You promised me! You fucking promised me! You can’t leave!”

Your breath hitched in your throat, door swinging shut as you practically ran out of the suffocating walls of your house. Could it even be considered your home now? Did technicalities even matter when nothing that you’d just experienced was even remotely logical?

You chuckled miserably, kicking the stone littered pavement as you tracked further from the hell hole you’d just stepped out of and closer to some peace and quiet. You’d worry about the rest when you got back.