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I'm destined to fade, but you're the holiest thing I know

SURPRISE! I'm alive (unfortunately) and am calling time of death on trying to finish this junk after starting it all the way back in 2021 when I was on thanksgiving break from university, it is now 2025 and I dropped out of the uni I was going to when I start this unholy thing...so yeah...its been years and I've given up on this thing...this trash is only a whopping 3,263 words which is so embarrassing considering how long I've been letting it sit and marinate in my dumb drafts...untouched by time (and untouched by me because this junk has not been edited or added to since what I originally wrote)

-A young lowly maid is tasked to help clean a few of the palace rooms after the great Prince of Asgard’s big return- (set in a fantasy medieval au)

*18+!!!*

WARNING: horrible grammar, NOT edited, bad English, mentioning of unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), mean and dark Thor, breeding kink-ish, noncon, cum play, loss of virginity, includes subjects that may be disturbing to some! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!...honestly read at your own risk because I am a warning all on my own

...

#dark thor x reader #dark avengers #dark thor #medieval au #fantasy world #dark marvel #meant thor #trash writing #junk

If you don’t like art, I am writing this for you. If you like art but have no time for it, I am writing this for you. If you think you lack the skill or the knowledge, I am writing this for you.

So, where to start? Introductions: my goal here is to help you, the reader, to understand what art is - come back! I promise this will be good! Are you back? Art, at the beginning, middle, and end of the day, is… fun.

Now that this is established, here is the outline of how I am going to get you there: First, we’re going to explore words. We’ll look a little at the root of the word “art.” We will also consider the difference between nouns and verbs - bear with me, it took me a while to learn what “noun” and “verb” meant as well. After this has been established, I will then take some of - and only some of, mind - the concepts and structures that have built up over time around art, and “deconstruct” them - by which I mean I am going to try and blow them up. Then there will be a conclusion, which should, with luck, end with you understanding what I mean when I say, “art is fun.”

The modern Western word art has its root in the Latin “ars,” which means “to craft or make.” Before I expand, a quick aside: I like to think that the phrase “can’t be arsed” has it’s root in this word rather than reference to a person’s butt. Now, even here, in this root, ars is not talking about an object, but an action. Art is not, nor ever has been, a noun. Art is not an object, art is an action. To be arsed is to make, or to do. To dance and to sing are just as much to be arsed as to draw up schematics and coordinate teams on a ten year architectural project. To be arsed is to be a verb. To move is to make art.

Okay, here’s to hoping you’re still with me. Let’s go at one of the structures. What shall we start with? We’ll do one that’s been well trod before, art as something frivolous. Art is so much more. If you want science, being arsed makes you feel good. It reduces stress. This is regardless of skill (“skill,” another invented concept, which we shall get to shortly), by the way. Just the act of making something - drawing or folding pretty patterns or singing or shuffling your feet in a lil jig. It’s all art and it all reduces stress. Like smoking except without the poison, cancer, and addiction.

But I hear you - you don’t science. You want something you can feel. Well how about the fact that when you make something, no-one can tell you what to make? To be arsed is to be completely liberated from expectations. If you work a job or are still in education, then you have a boss there making demands of you. If you have your parents around or a spouse, there are expectations you have to fulfill. Even amongst friends, chances are there are levels of conformity you are compelled to adhere to. But to make art, the first person whose opinion matters, is yours. If you are both the arser and the judge, then how are you not free? How is this not the only space - a space you carve out for yourself - where you can be truly free?

Okay to be fair I don’t know if that second part really answers the question. But I hope it helps, none the less.

So what about skill, then? Skill is a con. There can’t be such a thing, because every arser that I have ever known has needed to practice. If skill was real, there would be people who didn’t need to practice, because they had skill. But to be fair I might just be playing word-games there. So, why is skill still bull shit? Because the first artists among us do not care about it. By first artists, I mean children. You ever see a child intimidated by a pencil? Five year olds don’t care about this invented thing adults crow on about called “skill,” five year olds care about having fun. It’s all just colour and shape to them. Which is to say, they see art for what it is: colour and shape, or noise made for the joy of it, or flailing around because they want to feel really good. Five year olds know what art is: five year olds know that art is fun.

Skill is a notion invented by those who don’t understand what art is. When something looks realistic, that is illusionism, sure. It is possible to do this with much practice (practice, you see? Not skill). But not all arsers care about realism or illusionism. And still those who forget what art is must attribute “skill” to it. The impressionists were initially rejected by the “art world” - the word impressionist is originally an insult. Because they chose other things to be arsed with. Yet now a Van Gough will sell for more than some neighbourhoods. Van Gough, by the way, died by suicide as a penniless thirty-something year old. He didn’t paint for illusionary effects, nor to prop up idols or social “leaders.” Van Gough painted because he wanted to bring something joyous into the lives of others.

My point here is not to convince you to stake your life on art for its own sake. By all means keep your day job. My point here is to show you that skill is an invented construct, and attitudes change all the time. Art is fun, and joyous, before it is anything else.

Okay so I’ve tackled art as frivolity (being arsed keeps you healthy), and art as skill (skill is a social construct). I’ll do one more. Which one? What do my non-art friends often bust out with? Art is only worth something when it is worth money. Fuck that. Five year olds

don’t lunge at a new packet of gel pens because they’re the playground’s Picasso. Van Gough, again, died penniless. This is after a lifetime of different careers - one which was as an art dealer. Van Gough knew what art-objects sold and what didn’t. He chose to paint how he did for the joy of it. Being arsed doesn’t de-stress people because of any price tag attached to what’s being made. People don’t sell tickets to hear them sing in the shower. Money too, is a social construct, and is entirely useless when measuring art.

Okay, let’s move on to the conclusion, I think: to be arsed, is to do. Art is a verb. To be arsed, is to have fun. Art can only be done first for the self. If the art we perform also brings our friends and family joy, then fantastic. But the only useful measurement for art is, how fun was it to be arsed?

I hope you're still with me. I hope you're going to dig around for a scratchy ball point and some old recipts and start doodling. I hope you feel something... different.

Okay that’s a short conclusion, but in my defence I was just distracted by a lemon and honey hot drink. Also, i really like a line in there; How fun was it to be arsed? I think I’ll end on that; How fun was it to be arsed?

#art #traditional art #my art #fine art #bad art #writing #crap art #bad writing #trash art #wip #trash writing #crap writing #digital art #dance #music #story telling #poetry #it's all art

Another chapter for a book I'm writing on Wattpad

I've posted a few chapters on here before, but I wanted to share this was because it's important to the plot... and the horni-.

Anyway, fair warning, I'm not the greatest of author's so this may be bad... sorry in advance

Still... hope this is, at least, legible

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The sounds of police and ambulance sirens fill the night air as officers and paramedics run around the outskirts of the battle, the police officers ensure citizens stay back while the paramedics help the injured as quickly as they can. News reporters are all over the scene as well, doing their best to keep up with everything that’s happening around them.

“Limitless has made an appearance after being absent for about three years,” a news reporter says, doing her best to focus on the camera and not turn around to watch the fight. She continues, “The formidable villain’s been on Sun Beam’s hitlist since he first made himself known, and no other hero can handle him in a one-on-one fight! Limitless has multiple powers that aid him, and they even give Sun Beam a run for her money! Along with flight, he has super strength, teleportation, regeneration abilities and a hardening power. All we can do is-!” her eyes widen when something zips past above her head, a large gust of wind following the body as they’re sent flying into a building. The powerful air moves hair, loose fitting clothing, and brings dust and rubble along with it.

“Fuck,” Sun Beam curses while slowly peeling herself out of a building, blood trailing from her busted lip and the small gashes on her body. Her hero costume was damaged during the fight as well, the fabric ripped and torn in certain places that expose skin. She’s missing one of her gloves and one of the cones of her sun-like headpiece had been crushed.

“I’d be able to heal myself if the sun was out.” She grumbled before spitting out the blood that gathered in her mouth, standing up to shake off the rubble from her building.

“Sun Beam!”

She looks to her left then huffs when she sees Nightengalen, “I don’t need healing, conserve your power.”

“Healing doesn’t drain me,” the healing hero spat as he gently places his hands on the number one heroine’s arm. Sun Beam sighs as her wounds patch themselves up, “By the end of this, it might. Limitless isn’t holding anything back, and my powers are weaker at night. I’m not powerless, because the moon’s full, but I pack more of a punch with direct sunlight.”

“I know.” Doc moves his hands back once he finished, “That’s why I’m stepping in.”

“Wha-?!”

“Beam. I’ll be fine.”

The taller hero slowly clenches her fists then averts her gaze in defeat, “… you better not pass out like five years ago, Doc.”

“I’ll pace myself appropriately,” the shorter says before the two quickly make their way back to the main area of conflict. Limitless has a hero’s neck in one hand and his foot stepping on the chest of a heroine, their allies scattered around the area out of juice or unconscious. The Grand Hall sent out a good hand full of heroes to assist Sun Beam, and they’ve all been knocked down.

“I’ll keep his attention, and you’ll get him from behind,” Sun Beam snarls while crack her knuckles, Nightengalen nodding his head before widening his stance and bending his knees.

In the distance, Wraith watches the fight from the roof of an office building.

“Tonight… my curiosity is satiated.” He holds his hand out in front of him, “Don’t disappoint me, Doctor Nightengalen!”

Sun Beam leaps into the air then zips towards Limitless, the villain quickly dropping the hero he was tormenting to block her punch. He blocks a few more then pushes her back to try to land his own attack, his eyes widening slightly before turning around to protect himself from Doc’s punch by hardening his skin.

“So, you plan on teaming up to beat me?” he asked with a cock smirk, not needing to look at Sun Beam to catch her fist.

“What are you after?!” The number one hero demanded, “Why did you come out of hiding, you rat?!”

“Just felt like it, I guess!” he answered before twisting his body while throwing Nightengalen in one direction and Sun Beam in the other, flying after the sun heroine to beat her down a bit more.

“Did you find out something interesting?” Wraith asked the clone of himself that teleports next to him, not taking his eyes off the battle. The clone wears an amused smile, “I’ve found out something very interesting, but I have a feeling that you don’t want me to tell you just yet.”

“You know me so well,” the tall male muses before snapping his fingers to make the clone transform into his favorite treat, red velvet cake.

“I’ll eat you and gain the information later.” He teleports the slice of cake back to his home, “I want to see it with my eyes first… and…,” he looks down when Nightengalen crashes into the building he’s standing on, “I’ll get a sneak peek right now.”

Nightengale’s body tumbles and rolls until an office desk stops him near the center of the spacious room, his back hitting one of the metal legs of the desk roughly. The hero falls on his front then lays still against the floor before slowly pushing himself up on his quivering arms, his movements stilling when he picks up the sound of footsteps.

“Oh, my!” a familiar voice chimed, “Limitless is really giving it to you, isn’t he? Neither you nor Sun Beam can land a solid hit on him, not even when you team up against him!”

“The Mocker of Heroes.” Doc spat while glaring daggers at the villain, “What’re you doing here?”

Just like before, Wraith is wearing a mask that only reveals his mouth and cleanly shaved chin.

The larger man smirks wickedly as he stares down at the smaller like prey, “I’m here to lend you a hand; a little birdy told me that you’ve got more power than you’re letting on.”

“Who…?” Nightengalen asked airily, worry flashing in his eye for a brief moment. Wraith takes a step forward, “That doesn’t matter, my dear. What does matter is Limitless giving you a bigger ass beating than you were betting on.”

The villain shivers in delight when he sees fear mix into the worry in the hero’s eye the closer he gets, “Look at you, Doctor… you can’t even heal yourself because of how much of beating your taking.”

Nightengalen presses his back against the desk behind him, “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here!”

Wraith stands in front of Doc then lowers himself to sit down, “I’m here to help you.”

“Why-?”

“Does that matter?” the taller huffs, “Goodness, I feel like I’ve been asking that since yesterday. Anyway,” his smirk returns, “you need to take down that bad guy before he kills everyone, and I can help you with that. I can replenish the energy you’re missing; I can help you unleash Doctor Nightengalen: Overdrive!”

“… … … let’s say I believe you.” The hero sneers at the villain suspiciously, “What’s in it for you?”

“I’ll get an answer to the question I’ve been asking since I first discovered you.”

Doc observes the False Hero in hopes of finding anything that would tell him that he’s lying, slowly shaking his head when he finds nothing.

“I… you… fuck! Fine!” the smaller clenches his fists, “I accept your help, Faker! But if you-!”

The world comes to a slow stop as Nightengalen’s eyes gradually widen in shock, warmth spreading throughout his body while blush dusts his cheeks. Wraith has one of his large hands cupping the back of his neck while leaning forward a bit, the villain’s lips soft against his own. The larger male’s other hand stealthily makes its way to the smaller’s helmet, leisurely taking it off before moving his head back to sit properly.

Through the kiss, Wraith uses his healing powers to rejuvenate Doc in every way possible. The dark circles under his eyes disappear—his powers rise to a familiar high.

“So,” a crazed grin stretches across his face, “you’re one in the same after all!”

Benjamin’s eyes are still wide with shock, his lips still pouted as if the kiss never stopped. The hero looks much younger now that he doesn’t look like he could pass out at any minute, and Wraith can’t get enough of it.

Before the villain could pounce, Benjamin’s skin suddenly turns pure white with a teal light outlining his body. His entire eye is a lighter shade of teal, his lab coat slipping down his arms. The blush on the hero’s cheeks, once red, is now a shade of light green.

A light blue and teal aura explodes from the hero and expands over the entire area, healing any and everything. Grass and small flowers begin to grow between the cracks of the street and sidewalk, unconscious heroes waking up gradually. Even the civilians that were hurt have been healed fully. On top of that, anyone who was about to fall ill, or had signs of sickness, have been cured as well.

Sun Beam knits her eyebrows together, “That aura…,” she looks at the balls of light that hover around the area, “these lights…,” she grins, “it’s back!”

“I’d fuck you like this too,” Wraith admits out loud as his canine teeth sharpen, “I wonder if you can bleed in this form… and if you’re tighter.”

Benjamin blinks once then closes his eyes while standing up, allowing his coat to fall off his arms as he rises.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he says calmly walking past the villain. Wraith stands up, “Oh, I’d very much enjoy-.” He blinks twice when he sees that Nightengalen’s gone. He sighs happily, “I better find a good seat to watch the show; I’d hate to miss something like this.”

“What the hell?” Limitless mutters while looking around, confused about what just happened. Before anyone could move, the powerful villain’s sent flying back down the street by a swift punch, Sun Beam smirking cockily because she knew who did it.

“Doctor Nightengalen: Overdrive has returned!” a news reporter exclaimed in excitement and surprise, “After over five years, our modern day Nightengale has unleashed his full power!”

Looks of awe and astonishment are all on Benjamin while he stands up straight and moves his fist back, Limitless sitting up after his body stopped stumbling.

“Huh?” he sounded while trying to get a view of his jaw, blood staining the pavement between his thighs.

“Bastard broke my jaw,” he struggled to say while blood gushed out, lifting his hand to move his chin back in place. He holds it there to allow his skin to reattach itself together, moving his jaw around a bit before standing up. He smirks cockily, “You’re going to have to be a little quicker than that if you want to-.”

Benjamin appears before him faster than light itself, his arm cocked back and ready to fire. The shorter punches the taller right on his nose with the force of a truck smashing against the side of a mountain, the healing hero quickly gripping the villain’s neck to prevent him from getting launched back. He slams Limitless into the ground then punches him across his face to ensure that he falls into a comatose state, not wanting him to wake up and regenerate until he’s been put under custody.

“How’re you feeling, Benjie?” Sun Beam asked as she slowly lands next to her cousin while he stands up, his body returning to normal.

“I… I don’t know,” the shorter hero answers softly, “I usually feel faint after going all out, but… I feel… fine.”

The taller hums then drops Doc’s lab coat on his head, “Couldn’t find your helmet, but I did find this while you were fighting. How’d you manage to restore your energy all of a sudden?”

“I had… …,” Nightengalen’s face turns red with blush, “he-he kissed me!” he cups his cheeks in his hands, “He kissed me on the lips! Oh, what am I going to tell Theo?!”

Lilith raises a curious eyebrow, “Theo?”

“This is the worst; a villain kissed me and I liked it! The False Hero of all people!”

Sun Beam’s eyes widen, “He was here?! Where?!”

“Didn’t you hear me say that he kissed me?! Gah!” his blush darkens, “A-and he said that he could dah-dah… do me in my full power! What am I going to do?!”

“I wonder what he’s thinking, if that’s what he’s worrying about that right now.” Wraith cooed to himself. He hovers closer to the area then turns himself invisible, standing on the other side of Benjamin with his arms crossed. He activates one of his many powers to read the smaller man’s thoughts.

“That kiss felt too good. Was he going to use his togue if I let him keep going? Is he… attracted to me in that way? Theodor though… I wish he kissed me instead of the Faker. Should I tell Theo about this? That would mean telling him that I’m Doctor Nightengalen… right? Oh Theo…. I’m so sorry!”

“But I am your darling Theo!” Wraith almost said out loud, a twisted grin plastered on his face. He could have fun dragging this out now that he knows Doc is Benjamin. He, himself, eventually plans on showing Ben that he’s Theodor… but he can’t decide if he wants the big reveal to happen as Wraith or as the masked the False Hero. He wants the option that’ll leave the most impact, so he can witness the way Nightengalen’s face will contort as a reaction.

A part of him is hoping that the hero will glare at him; he does so enjoy being glared at by Benjamin. Just as much as seeing him blush.

It’s then a thought comes to mind—marriage. He could make Benjamin his, and only his, before unveiling the truth. This would be a test of love and morals for the short hero, Wraith can already imagine the conflict in Benjamin’s eyes and plastered on his face. That alone is enough to make him yearn to see it in real time.

“I’d have to play my cards just right.” He muses mentally while slowly lifting into the air, “Having a crush and liking someone doesn’t always mean they want to wed. This will be a plan with many… many steps, but the end result will be invigorating!”

As he slowly drifts away from the battlefield, Benjamin slowly blinks while lowering his arms a bit. He looks to the spot next to him, “Strange….” He notes mentally, “I could’ve sworn I felt Theo next to me a few seconds ago.”

Sun Beam huffs, “Again, who’s Theo?”

“Theodor Mannerheim.” Nightengalen smiles sweetly, “He a vigilante I met a few months back! He’s a real nice guy and a good friend of mine and… I really like him.”

Lilith blinks once, looks her younger cousin up and down, then blinks twice. She smirks cheekily, “I don’t remember the last time you let yourself get a crush on someone! Now I want to meet him!”

Ben, “Maybe one day… for now,” he turns to look at the approaching microphones and cameras, “we’ve got to deal with the press.”

Sun Beam sighs, “I’ve got this; you focus on making sure nobody’s still hurt.”

#i wanna doodle the characters so bad #chapter 6 #wattpad #the story's called A Light in the Darkness #trash writing #trash author #bad grammar #bad spelling #check out the whole thing on wattpad if you like it #i tried #villain x hero #villain x civilian #man x man #op bottom #op top #yaoi story #bl story

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you)

#my thoughts #books #bad writing #bad books #trash books #twilight #team jacob #jacob black #jacob black deserves better #werewolves are better #trash writing #werewolves #jacob black defense squad #Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you

Could you do a dub-con scenario with Asa Emory where he's calling the reader a good girl/boy/pet while 'rewarding' her for good behavior. 😊

Asa Emory x AFAB reader

Warnings: Dub/con, fingering, mild choking

Pitiful screams and pleas erupted from the cracked door ahead of you. “We gotta help them!” Your fellow captive urged, eyes frantically glancing between you and the direction of the sound. You sighed softly, plucking at pieces of decayed wallpaper. There was a subtle difference between fresh cries of terror and the mild static of a recording, the victim strung up on display in the halls of the hotel. She shook her head in disgust as you ignored them, pressing open the door. Your eyes slid shut as you pressed your temple against the wall.

#asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #the collector #trash writing

Chapter 1

Venom/Eddie x Reader

Tw: cussing, violence

Another round clocks you in the jaw; the rebound keeping you from darting out of the way of the following blow. The crowd roars in suspense, but not loud enough to drown out the pumping of your heart beating in your ears. You shake your head at the bleat of a bell that signals the end of this round before your opponent could crack your skull open. Bloodied spit shoots out the side of your mouth as you return to your corner.

“Get to your corner!” The referee waves his arm dismissively at the mass glaring you down.

You had plenty of bulk, but they looked like a mountain compared to you. There was a split in your eyebrow you hadn’t noticed before. Cold hands shove a bottle of water into yours. The condensation wets your palms and drips down your face as you desperately down the freezing beverage in an attempt to cool yourself off. There’s another split down the middle of your bottom lips. The stinging only amplified your adrenaline.

You hadn’t realized your brother had been talking to you until he lightly smacks the side of your head. You turn to him, almost dazed.

“Look, boss, it ain’t even that much! When they take you down, just stay down. You hear me? Aye! Aye, boss!” That wasn’t what you were looking to hear. You had already turned back to the middle of the ring. He sounds his frustration behind you before he snatches the empty bottle out of the way.

You finally begin to control your breathing when the bell rings once more. The both of you raise fists and circle each other. Your hands shoot out to reach for them as you lunge hesitantly. Just as you had predicted they were quick to react to your flawed grapple. As they tangle with you-their arms over yours-you raise your knee to push them back. Your hands gripped on the back of their neck with a vice as you rinse and repeat. You can feel them struggle against your grip as you give their nose one last thrust of your knee before you let them push you back.

A shot that lucky wont come as easily next time. You put your hands back up and await their retaliation. The light almost blinds you as they swing at you. Their ponytail flicks at your face as you dodge and pass them. Their other arm swings behind them and catches you on the cheek. Hard.

That was going to leave one hell of a bruise. They quickly come back with another wild swing and all you can do is block your face as they begin to corner you. You could barely hear the voice behind you scream your name to go down. They take the advantage to connect their fist to your stomach. It almost encourages you to double over, but you hold your breath. It was all or nothing.

You surprise them with a swing of your own. Despite their heat unrelenting you manage to find an opening. Suddenly your positions were reversed. Your blood pumping and your fists flaring, you kept your pattern. ‘Boom-boom-Pop!’ you kept repeating to yourself. A mental montra you drilled into your head for years. They were beginning to grow tired if their curling figure was of any indication. You managed one last uppercut that sends them spiraling to the ground as the bell signals your victory. Dopamine never felt so good. You take in the moment as you watch your opponent tire out on the ground and listen to the audience both cheer for you and scream in disagreement. You could see your brother lose it in the crowd...

“You stubborn ass-”

“Shut up and give me my winnings, Raffie.” He only scoffs and slaps a hefty wad into your palm. You smile to yourself as you feel it and quickly count out a good amount and then some.

Rafael cackles at your pleased expression, “Heh, feel that? Legit thought you were done for. You already looked dead tired.”

“Ha, when you fight someone like that–you can’t get tired.” you joked dryly as you two swayed into the night outside of the building. Adjusting your hoodie you feel him playfully punch at your shoulder. “For real though,” he looks at you casually, “you should learn when to fuckin’ quit. Each fight so far has been bigger than the last one.”

You could only squint at him, your lips tugged in a smirk, “Aren’t you the one getting me these g-”

“Shh!” He smiles a little, embarrassed, and pushes at you. You retaliate by ruffling his curly hair and laugh along with him.

Nights after a fight were usually like this. You, being pretty banged up, and your brother pretending he’s stern when he tells you to be careful. It was refreshing. Although he wasn’t blood related. You two had met in highschool when you were quite the handful. You felt a little guilty dragging him into this kind of business, but he insisted. It paid plenty for rent and although you could never find yourself getting used to the nausea it came with, you somehow enjoyed fighting.

“Damn, boss,” a nickname that manifested easily with your attitude, “Want to go buy some ice for that real quick?”

You were out of ice, but would rather be planting face-first into your mattress right about now, “Nah, pretty sure we got some peas in the freezer.” It was incredibly dark out and the fact that he could see the redness beginning to swell, it spiked a bit of your insecurity. You shook it off and made it to your apartment complex.

Entering your room felt like ecstasy for the soul. Rafael had already passed you to grab the peas as you toed off your shoes and got comfortable on the couch. That meant sweats and no top. You hold your hand out as a chilled bag is placed in your grasp from behind you. After wrapping it with your hoodie you gently place it against your cheek, wincing in discomfort. Raf is kind enough to turn the TV on for you as you put your legs up on half of the couch with your feet tucked under a blanket. Your kin just about to make himself comfortable-

You give your brother a pitiful look, “Raffie can you go microwave me some pizza?”

He sighs and hangs his head before lazily dragging himself to the fridge. A smirk tugs at your lips again, “Aye, why are you tired? I’m the one fighting!” An exaggerated groan is your only response. You chuckle at the fact that he wouldn’t dare deny your right to leftover pizza before you return your attention to the screen.

“-Four bodies were found in an alley. The heads have yet to be discovered as this appears to be yet another victim of the Demon of San Francisco, Ven-”

“Bah…” You flicked through the channels before landing on some wildly inappropriate cartoon.

Venom made both you and your brother nervous. It didn’t take a genius to see the pattern he had. He searched for those who do bad deeds. To some goody-two-shoes it would appear that he had it out for just anyone, but you knew those who were actually in danger. You feared that you were one of them with how you and your brother were involved in an underground fight club. The only hope you both clinged to was the fact that gambling was harmless. Mostly.

The scent of cheesy jalapenos and meat wafted your senses and successfully interrupted your thoughts. You greedily take a bite simultaneously with Raf. You were full of regret one minute in. Your busted lip was searing! You muffle a complaint before dropping the peas and booking it to the sink to cool off your lip.

You whine as you could hear Raf laugh at you from the living room. Your middle finger flashes him before you rush to the fridge to drown your mouth in milk straight from the gallon.

He was almost hysterical, “No hay vaso!?”

Your eyes roll as you finally cool down. Once you return and push your plate towards him you notice something. Both plates only had one pizza. He usually ate two. That bastard.

“You-”, you smack him upside the head. Your glare could turn a man to stone. Unfortunately, he only seemed to laugh in the face of death.

You make a dramatic show of retreating to your room as he eats. Living with him taught you that he would make it up to you in the morning so you weren’t terribly pissed off.

The moment your face hits the pillow, sleep cushions your fall...

Sweat beads down your throat. You were at the height of your capabilities and it felt victorious. Your audience chanting your name and your opposer struggling to get back up. There wasn’t a scratch on you either. This high was absolutely addicting and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned against the ropes and rose to boast and flex-the crowd going wild. Just as you were asking for more out of the audience there was a gut wrenching pull that brought you back to the middle of the stage.

The lights were suddenly blinding and your opponent looked more fierce than usual. Eyes dark and mouth seething. There was a thin layer muffling the sound of the crowd. Something wasn’t right…

Everything was warped and the corners of your vision were dark. Despite everything feeling slower, your heart was panicking. You duck when the hulking silhouette swings at you and immediately put your fists up, trying to keep your head in the game-or keep your head in general.

It was more of a game of cat and mouse. You kept focusing on dodging and keeping a distance. There was no way in hell you were going to get them beneath you. It was almost like they were growing by the second. You shook your head and tried at throwing a punch at their stomach. Now something definitely wasn’t right. Your arms felt heavy with each hit. It was suffocating and felt like you were being drawn in.

Your opponent had made zero effort to block your punches. The crowd was still muffled, but grew louder. Things were getting darker and darker. The figure in front of you began to grow just as dark before you saw nothing but the white of its eyes as they morphed into something else. It narrowed at you and all you could do was watch as its stomach engulfed your fist.

Something was opening and suddenly there was pain in your stomach that felt closer to the ache of fear. You were being pulled into what felt like your death. Your breathing all but disappeared and your heart was a screaming mess. This was it-this was your last fight-nowhere to run-

Your name brings you crashing to the surface. You’re damn near hyperventilating, but you were just thankful to be able to breathe again. Everything was still dark, but you slowly recognized it as your room.

“Y-you’re in your room, boss-it’s me Rafael...”

You turned to Raf holding his aching nose with one hand while the other was held out to you defensively. He watched your eyes dart left and right as you took your time to calm down. Your body was shaking and sticky from sweat.

“A nightmare…” He tried his best to bring you back from those. You shook your head and grabbed his hand to anchor yourself. “I’m sorry.”, it was what you could muster for now. Apparently your mouth sounded as dry as it felt considering Raf released a hand from his undamaged nose to pass you his half empty bottle of water.

Finishing the bottle, you toss it randomly in the distance. Raf was always awkward at this point and it showed.

“Hungry?” your head motioned ‘no’.

“...TV?” You take a moment, but decide you would rather watch something than try to go back to sleep.

With that he grabs some pain meds from the nightstand and another water bottle before he walks you to the living room to cuddle and enjoy a show or two.

Unfortunately he passes out in the middle of an episode, but you can’t find it in yourself to complain. Quietly, you shimmy out from his tight hold and make your way to the bathroom.

Your sticky body makes you grimace. With how tired you were it was almost a challenge to get everything off. Regardless you make it to the valve of the shower and trigger the showerhead. Heated water pours out and you carefully step in. You relished in the heat and almost doze off. But you got busy and cleansed yourself of your stench.

Half an hour later you were out and drying yourself off before putting on fresh clothing. Something casual considering it was already morning. You throw on some underwear, pants, a nerdy shirt, and your hoodie. Hiding your bruise was the least of your worries. People seemed to mind their own business whether or not you actually hid anything. You decided you would go out and grab some ice to kill time since you weren’t heading back to sleep anytime soon. Dressed and out the door, you put on some tunes on your phone. You tuck your earbuds into your ears and leave the building; heading to a nearby convenience store. The back of your mind is hopeful that Raf rubs your shoulders when you get back.

There was a dangerous moment where you almost walked into a pole, but you made it. Passing through the door you made an invaulatory map of the store. A group of teenages over by the snacks and a women by the coffee makers. You almost missed the brooding man by the freezers as you made your way towards the candy aisle. You grabbed a packet of gum before making your way towards the cashier.

“What?” It was a hushed tone, but your gaze followed the whisper towards the man staring down a bag of tater tots. Suddenly he turned to look at you, but naturally you turned away, whether you were embarrassed of staring or just scared of interaction with someone so sketchy.

You continued your travels, paying for both the gum and the ice. Currently you were struggling with your hold on the ice outside of the store. You winced when you tried to carry it as you usually did. Flashes of your previous fight reminded you that you were still very sore. Sighing, you considered walking back in to ask for a big bag to carry it in.

“Need some help there?” he sounded casual and yet nervous. It was the brooding man with the tater tots. Maybe he was tired.

You couldn’t really give a fuck if he was as dangerous as he looked, at the moment, you were just happy to get some help. You would be more worried if you didn’t know how to defend yourself. “Please?” A relieved sigh left you as he picked up the bag and held it over his shoulder with ease.

“Thanks uh-”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie.”, you mimic.

“And you are...?”, something in you stirred at that, but you ignored it and answered respectively with your name.

“I don’t live too far if that helps.” The least you could do was provide a bit of conversation. You made sure to leave an earbud out so you could hear him. “It’s no problem. I don’t live far either.” You nod in acknowledgement. A small moment of silence follows persistently.

“What’s with the bruise, if you don’t mind me asking?”, his voice makes you jump lightly; not expecting him to ask that question.

Damn, you pretty much forgot about that now that it only hurt to touch. You weren’t about to tell him your nightly activities. Skillfully, you lie through your teeth, “I’m real clumsy. Vertigo acts up out of nowhere sometimes.” you throw in an embarrassed chuckle for affect. Too busy patting yourself on the back you fail to see through his smile that masked how unconvinced he really was.

You eyed the exaggerated amount of tater tots and chocolate he had bought. It didn’t really match his figure. Instead of commenting you simply dig into your pocket and retrieve your pack of gum, pulling out a strip and unwrapping it, “Gum?”, you offered.

He shrugs and lets you feed it to him. His hands were occupied anyways. You smile playfully at the gesture and his awkwardness as he thanks you.

“Anytime.” You finally turn to him as you reach the apartment complex. You mentally groan at the fact that you were about to carry the ice up the stairs to your apartment. With your hands out to him, you gesture towards the ice, “I’m not about to make you go up the stairs with that thing, but thanks for the help, Eddie.”

“It really isn’t a problem, please, I insist.” Somehow that made you smile. You didn’t argue as you would be the same way.

“Any ideas how I could thank you?” If not you could probably throw him a fake ass ‘IOU’. Or maybe just offer him some breakfast.

There was a beat of silence where he made an expression you didn’t have time to read. “You hungry?” smooth.

As if on cue there was a smell seducing the hell out of your senses. Your brother was making french toast. “Yeah, I could eat.” you chuckled, knowing he could smell it too.

You make it to your room just after that and open the door; the aroma amplifying and the sound of sizzling makes your mouth water at the thought of bacon. You hold the door out to Eddie.

“My treat?” You joked as he beamed.

“How generous.”

He set the ice into the freezer and shimmied awkwardly into the scene where he was met with a confused curly-haired man with a spatula in one hand and a plate of food in the other. He appeared to be wearing nothing but boxers and a frilly apron. You were leaning against his shoulder innocently.

“Eddie, this is my brother, Rafael, Raf, this is Eddie.” Following that introduction, you snagged the plate and handed it to Eddie before gesturing to him to sit next to you on the couch in front of the TV. He complies and for a moment or two, the silence was painful. Raf tosses you some chocolate syrup, a small salt shaker of sugar-cinnamon and whipped cream that he threw blindly in the direction of the living room. You had to be quick to catch them, but had a horrifying second in which you had to catch the chocolate syrup from the top of Eddie’s head before it could land on his plate. You sigh an apology, however, Eddie just chuckles a little, surprised and impressed.

“So is bringing home random guys going to be a thing or…?” You could tell your shit-faced brother was smirking from the kitchen as he fixes your plate. Eddie huffs in amusement behind your bickering. You were just thankful that he could break the ice-pun intended.

You debated throwing a spoon at him, “Is you wearing my things going to be a thing or…?” you fired back before gawking at the plate in front of you. He snickers, “Looks better on me.” and belatedly joins you two with a bunch of french toast in his mouth. It appears the newcomer stole his plate regardless of being capable of making another one.

“So are you going to tell us more about yourself, Eddie.” despite his muffled voice, you sensed something suspicious about his question.

Setting down the chocolate syrup he just drowned his french toast in, he clears his throat, “I’m a journalist, I write articles for the-” Rafael burps shamelessly, “Daily Globe…” Eddie smiles, obviously trying to be polite. He takes a forkful of his breakfast as Raf opens his mouth again, “Oh you’re the guy that did the Eddie Brock show, huh?”

“The Eddie Brock Report, yeah,”, he corrects, “that was me.” Another forkful just a beat later.

“Thats cool-”, you tried to offer before your brother decided to butt in again, “-Yeah real cool. Didn’t that show get cancelled?” Eddie was visibly uncomfortable and evidently irritated which struck a chord with you.

Although it seemed like Eddie had plenty to say in response to that, you slam your hand on the table to take the attention off of him, “Hey, Raffie!” You gave him a quick stare that only the two of you could decipher as ‘We’re going to have a fucking talk later’. “Mind making me some more bacon, please?”

It was more of an excuse to keep him out of the conversation for the most part. Raf rolls his eyes before taking the hint. You took the moment to pat Eddie on the shoulder apologetically. He seemed to understand the gesture as he nods in acknowledgement.

With a defeated sigh you take a break from questions, “Cool jacket.” He looks down as if he forgot he even had it on.

“Thanks. Your hoodies nice.” He was totally just being nice. Your hoodie was ancient. You didn’t comment though, “Thanks, you’re too kind.”

“I aim to please.”

“Naturally. You lift or...?” You poke at the bulk in his bicep through the aforementioned jacket.

“Oh uh yeah,” He removes his jacket to smirk and bulge his arms beneath your touch, “Working out ‘s been helping me through somethings actually.”

Snorting, you remove your hoodie to flex the muscle you were hiding beneath the fabric.

“I kind of do too… in a way.” It was almost second nature for you to try to compete.

“Oh damn-”

“Bacon’s done, boss, I’m going to take a shit-”

‘Ever so charming…’

Raf swiftly abandons the kitchen leaving a concerned Eddie with an unamused kin. You hang your head. Just as you were getting to the flow of a conversation.

“Is he going to be alright?” There was something in his voice that sounded like concern, but closer to relief. You didn’t blame him as you were just the same.

“Yeah…” You look down at his empty plate and the pile of bacon you weren’t really going to eat.

With a wavering sigh, you gesture to the bacon, “Want the rest?”

You were already grabbing the tubbawear when he answered, “Sure…”

There was a selfish part of you that didn’t want to kick him out, but you compromised by taking a sharpie and writing your number on the side of the container with a small smiley face next to a subtle ‘text me’. Once you hand it to him he glances at the message on the tubbawear before looking back at you.

“You should probably head out. I’m really sorry about Raf, but uh,” you were suddenly nervous, “I hope we can try this again sometime…”

You just met the man, but the guilt decided that you should try to make it up to him anyways. That and maybe the fact that you’ve been in a bit of a dry spell and this man certainly looked appetizing. You mentally slap yourself.

He sent his gaze towards the direction Rafael had left before returning to meet your hopeful eyes. It seemed he was throwing you a bone, “Sure, I’d love to try this again. Maybe not here though…”

“Yeah, totally uh we’ll figure something out.” wow, could you have sounded any more awkward and desperate? Regardless, there was a snarky comment here and there before you actually got him out the door. You pressed your head against the door as guilt hit you like a truck. It almost made you want to scream. You try to calm yourself down before you go say something stupid to Raf.

Look, your face? Isn’t very pretty after that last fight. You’re still a little cut up and that bruise looks like near-death! Someone actually took a little interest in you this morning. Not to mention, he didn’t look too bad! Bed head, five o'clock shadow, and all! That jawline was something nobody could miss…

You doubt he would have been so nervous if a ‘certain someone’ hadn’t been there. Raf never usually acted like this anyways.

You sigh through your nose before pulling off your shirt and pushing yourself to face your unbearable brother. The heater was on in your room and with the conversation you were about to have, you were not in the mood to feel suffocated. When you see him he is face down on the bed, brooding. With a roll of your eyes, you sit next to him and pat his back. You try to sound sweet, but it comes out a little irritated, “Raffie?”

No answer.

“Want to talk about your little break down earlier?”

A muffled protest.

You groan, “Raf stop being a little girl…”, using whatever force you could muster, you push him onto his back to look at you. Much to your displeasure, your arms were still sore so you only managed to get him on his side. If not for the soreness you could certainly bench press him. Raf blinks at you with brown-hazel eyes in what you hope is guilt.

“Raf, please tell me why you freaked out on Eddie like that?” Your voice was tired, but seemed to finally get him to speak.

“You don’t even know him…” His eyes narrow.

“And you think you do? You never even watched his show. The hell did you embarrass me like that for?”

He scoffs.

“Is this about Jessie?”

Raf answers your suspicions when he avoids your gaze. You demonstrate your disappointment in a stern voice, “Raf, that shit was a long time ago. I’ve moved on from it and you shouldn’t even-”

“Yeah and I get that you won’t change your mind-I promise I fuckin do, but-”

“Do you really ‘cause I’m tired of you bringing it up.” It was practically hissed at him.

“Alright-alright you know what? It’s whatever at this point, right? I won’t bring it up anymore, but like I’m just sayin’ I’m tired of you being stubborn n’ shit when it shouldn’t even have to be a problem! And I mean I don’t want to drag you into things you don’t want to do, but I just feel like we could be like how we were back then when we were doing crazy shit together you ‘member? I miss that! We-”

“I don’t care about that shit anymore-I’m doing my own thing, Raf, you shouldn’t be caring this much about this anymore.”

“Yeah well you shouldn’t be wanting to fuck random motherfuckers off the stree-” Your hand stung and Rafael held the side of his head. You couldn’t tell apart any emotion that was flowing through him at this point.

“I’m old enough to make these decisions, Raf.”

“Sure don’t act like it.” That made your blood boil.

“Says the one crying like a little bitch the moment I want some closeness,” Rafael opens his mouth to speak, but you quickly shut him up, “Grow the fuck up cause I’m not about to stand here while you talk me down like I’m a fucking dumbass.” Your voice wavers in strength.

You refuse to give him the chance to respond to that, figuring the power in you was beginning to grow too sensitive by the second. As you leave the room you’re sure to slam the door shut. Before you could break you grab your hoodie and your phone off of the counter and rush out the door. Looking down at the notification made your chest sting, but managed to cheer you up enough to smile thankfully. It was an unknown number, but you knew who it was regardless.

[:Hey, holding up okay?]

A huff leaves your worn figure before you text back a small ‘yeah, what’s up?’ before adding him to your contacts and trugging out of the complex for a walk.

Maybe it would calm your nerves and distract you from feeling watched.

#keeping the reader gender neutral of course #venom x reader #Eddie Brock x reader #oc x reader #?#the conflict in the beginning of this is a little dumb but just bare with me #this has been in my drafts for years so uh #just leaving this here #I’m feeling better #thank you for all of your kind words and offers of help #it was kind of a shock to see that so #thank you #i promise I’m getting better #trash writing

Tangerines and Cuddles (Pt. 1?)

What?? Me posting a fanfiction :O? The world must’ve turned upside down!

AU: That Logan and Harvey AU I talked about 1 or 2 posts ago

Genre: Starts off as crack, actually hurt/comfort?

Ship: Intrulogical

TW: Shouting, swearing, smoking, mentions of STDs (If there’s any more, please tell me :D)

Word Count: Only 851 ; _ ;

"So..." Remus started. "There's two of you?"

Harvey and Logan stood beside each other, Logan holding Harvey's hand so he wouldn't run off. Harvey looked annoyed and looked away from Remus. He pulled his hand away from Logan’s, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. He then reluctantly moved his hand back where Logan could snatch it back, and that he did.

Logan was the one who responded, "Yes, there is 'two of us' as you've said" "And how do you guys work? Are you guys the same person in the sense of you literally are the same person? Or are ya'll the same person in the sense of like...me and Roman?" Remus spewed questions rapidly.

Harvey huffed, "What's the difference?"

"Well the difference is-!"

Harvey promptly cut him off, "It was a rhetorical question, idiot"

Usually, a person would have been angry or upset...but Remus just laughed. "What're you laughin at you STD-ridden rat?!"

Remus seemed to ignore him as he looked toward Logan, pointing at Harvey, "He's feisty! I like it"

Logan smiled and shook his head fondly, "Of course...and to answer your question from earlier, we exist in the same way that we exist for Thomas. He is...to put it simply, an aspect of me"

"Ooooohhh!" Remus smiled, kissing Logan on the lips and hugging him happily.

"If you guys are going to make out, can you let go of my hand?!" Harvey groaned, blowing a puff of smoke.

"Is someone jeaaallloouuusssss?~" Remus sung, looking slyly over at Harvey. "Why would I be jealous? You're disgusting and obviously Logan made the worst choice of his life by dating you. I almost feel sorry for him," He sneered.

"Now if we're talking in technical terms..." Logan began, "Harvey feels the same attraction I do for you, Remus, because we're the same person. It's like when we feel a strong connection or attraction to Nico."

Remus squealed and laughed in delight, pointing at Harvey while jumping up and down, "SO YOU DO LIKE ME!"

"NO I DON'T, YOU...YOU IMBECILE-!"

"YOU DOOOOOOO!!!"

"NO!!"

Remus and Harvey began to bicker while Logan stood there, sighing and smiling to himself.

Since Harvey was...quite shorter than Logan, Remus picked him up with ease. He spun Harvey to make him face outward and held him in front of Logan, actively ignoring the loud complaints and insults hurled at him.

"He reminds me of the 'no talk me i'm angy' cat! Tiny and adorable-"

"I'M NOT ADORABLE, PUT ME DOWN!!! I'M NOT RISKING GETTING AN INFECTION FROM YOU" Harvey aggressively kicked the air, making a half-hearted attempt to escape that would soon prove pointless.

Logan laughed. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile, but the attempt was futile. "That's quite an accurate and adorable comparison, Remus." "I'M. NOT. A DUMB. CAT," Harvey protested, screaming in frustration.

Remus hugged Harvey close like an over-sized teddy bear, looking up at Logan and chatting with him happily as Harvey gave up complaining.

"On a serious note!" Remus suddenly exclaimed. He unexpectedly snuggled Harvey and kissed him on the cheek, "I love you as well."

There was tension-filed silence for a moment...before Harvey started laughing. "That's funny, rat! Of course you don't!" Remus's face suddenly dropped into a confused and abnormally sad expression.

"Why not? You're Logan, he's you, and if I'm gonna love him then I gotta love ALL of him, yeah?" Logan silently considered that reasoning. It was surprisingly logical, but then again, Remus was more than what he seemed.

"Because I'm..." Harvey trailed off before strongly picking up again, "What's it to you?!"

"It's everything to me! You’re a part of Logan, which also makes you MY boyfriend, and to be honest I love you alrea-"

"You keep saying that but I know for a god damn FACT that you're only saying it so..what, I don't feel left out? So Blue finds you more trustworthy? More 'SINCERE'? So you don't actually love me. And don't you dare say that you do"

Logan fake-coughed to get both of their attention, "If it has any worth, Remus is...brutally honest, Harvey. Whatever he says is most likely true to the highest extent"

"But what if it isn't?!"

"What makes you question his credibility?"

"BECAUSE THERE'S NOT A SINGLE GOD DAMN REASON WHY HE'D LOVE ME"

"But-"

"WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW?! HUH??! YOU THINK YOU KNOW IT ALL, DON’T YOU??!" Harvey angrily pushed Remus off of him, Remus not doing anything in disappointment and shock. Logan reached out to Harvey steadily, "...Harvey-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!!" He screeched as he flickered into invisibility, settling for sitting on the top of the stairs, facing away from the both of them.

Remus blinked a few times and pulled himself back into reality. "Well uh...that didn't go as planned, did it?" He laughed. Obviously, he felt upset and awkward. "No, it didn't..." Logan sighed, "Maybe...we can try another time? He's stubborn.."

"Awwwwwww...okayyy!" Remus hopped over to Logan and threw his arms around him, burying his face in Logan's hair.

(I don’t like how this isn’t finished, but I didn’t have much time ;-;)

Taglist:

@mychemically-imbalanced-romance (I’m very grateful for your interest in the AU ;w;)

#this probably won't go far either-#trash writing #intrulogical #AU #Harvey's an angy boi #affectionate Remus :O #this is just a snippet I mean- Like...a little introduction? About how I write how they act-#; ___ ;#it's my first time actually posting some of my writing so I'm a bit nervous-#Two Sides of Logic AU

Me @ Jason Rothenberg’s trash writing after The 100 Season 7 ended

#trash writing #trash #the 100 #Jason Rothenberg #anti Jason Rothenberg #bellarke #Clexa #CW #Angry #Pissed #Mad #the 100 season 7 #Bellamy Blake #Clarke Griffin #JRothenbergTV #jroth #anti jroth