#my bsd fusions

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

from the deck of a sinking ship

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

It is a week into the fog when John Steinbeck appears at Mark Twain’s doorstep, reminding him the apocalypse has come and there's no time to write a biography right now.

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short little stories about how my randomized bsd fusions happened, from an au where the dragon's breath went worldwide with devastating consequences

24 chapters, dead apple centric, heed the warnings in each chapter, mcd warning

aka: the fog causes the apocalypse and creates humanity anew

[just-a-dinosaur-i-guess]

toxic yuri. you know the ones

“what are you doing?”

YEAHH "what are you doing" + algernon/morella/helen

"What are you doing?" Helen's voice is soft, but far from gentle. She grasps Morella by the arm, glaring at her. Morella lets her, leaning into the touch, "Algy's working on another painting," Her tone is low with demand, "But I still want blood to spill." Helen narrows her eyes, shoving Morella back against the wall; in a split second, there's a gun at her chin. "You may not spill mine." Morella looks from the gun to Helen, then slumps so as to bring the gun against her skin more, smirking. Helen just rolls her eyes. She won't pull the trigger, not today, and they both know it.