Rosa, VTMB.

♡ | yesaccasey on Instagram

💌 Send this to the twelve nicest people you know or seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome.💌🥰🥰

This is so sweet, and needed right now. Thank you, Ericca! 💜💜💜💜

It’s not about romanticizing the mundane but about being receptive to the beauty that’s already there. The mundane isn’t void of meaning or romanticism; it’s rich with stories waiting to be uncovered and retold, beauty waiting to be seen and acknowledged — a flicker of sunlight on a windowsill, a stranger's smile in passing, the muffled music from your neighbors through the wall, the way steam rises from a cup of tea. Yet, to see it requires more than just looking — it asks for a surrender, a willingness to let go of cynicism and to meet the world on its own terms. Perhaps this is where the art of living begins — not in searching for grand happenings but in learning to embrace the quiet magic of what’s already in front of us. The extraordinary doesn’t need to be created; it has always been there, nestled within the folds of the ordinary, waiting patiently to be seen.

DAMN! thirty four?!?! thats crazyyy sometimes i forget that older people too write fanfics

Hahaha, yeah. And I’ve been writing since I was fourteen. More people than you realize, are older that write fanfic. Fandom started back in the ‘60s and and ‘70s. There are people older than me in fandom. ;)

—Kat 💜

Fallout: New Vegas Scenery [6/?]

do you know about “looking for polaris” ? Can’t find it and it seemed similar to yours

That’s because it was mine from an old profile that I deleted. That’s why you can’t find it. I decided to edit it and put it on here.

~Kat 💜

—my flower, withered between pages two and three.

Stronger Without

A Drabble set in the Monsters in the Dark universe.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack

//angst, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abandonment, mentions of an attempt on reader’s life by her father, dark themes, fem!reader//

Billy wondered if his mother ever loved him. Or if he’d been a burden from the beginning. Had she wished she had terminated the pregnancy?

What about his father? Had he left when he learned of his mother’s pregnancy?

Had he abandoned Billy, too?

Bitterness filled him at the thought, maybe it would have been better than all this suffering, he thought hitting the punching bag hard, his knuckles aching.

He sweated as he hit the punching bag in quick succession, his muscles aching with the strain. It didn’t relieve the ache in his heart, the fucking pain, that no matter how much he tried to shove it down, still remained.

But then he’d never know you, if he hadn’t been born. And that made him ache deeply. Especially knowing you’d experienced the trauma you had. Your father hated you, and made it known to you every day. Tried to kill you, even.

The thought of you facing that alone, was enough to make him realize that he’d go through it all over again, just to be with you.

Billy clenched his fists.

You were both stronger without your parents.

💋💋 You've been kissed!! Send this to five other people to give them kisses!!

Thank you, Ericca! 💋😘

—The Wolf.

—slightly canon!Billy, alluding to oral (f receiving), implied poly, alcohol, drunk reader.

—526 words.

—I haven’t written in a long time. I felt a little inspired, so I wrote. :) I’ll tag a few who might be interested. If you don’t see yourself tagged, it’s because I can’t remember my taglist, lol.

— @e-dubbc11 @kayhi808 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @terry2227 @firexfate @danzer8705

You drowsily watched him work at his desk, leaning your chin down on your arms, feeling jittery. You probably shouldn’t have drank that wine with your antidepressants. “Sometimes I think Anvil is what you love the most. More’n me and Frankie.” You slurred, drunk from the wine he’d given you, and feeling like you’d stepped into a hot bath. The fire cracked in the background, light flickering in the dark room.

Billy leaned back in his chair, clicking his pen, dark eyes watching you. He reached across the desk, a finger curling around your hair. “It’s proof of how far I’ve come.” He said, voice low, making a fire burn deep in your belly. God, you wanted him. In every way, you wanted to devour him like the wolf in the woods.

“But Billy, we love you. Is it really worth everything?” You asked, taking another sip, sinking deeper into the chair, his answer wrapping around you;

“I loved my ma. Where did it get me?” His voice was sharp, as bared his teeth. A pin drop could be heard, and the wind blew outside, making you cold somehow despite the warmth of the fire.

“I could love you.” It was quiet, but he heard you as he pulled back, dark eyes like chips of onyx.

“It doesn’t matter if you love me. You’re mine.” The clock chimed midnight.

“And you’re mine and Frankie’s.” You said, shifting, the chair creaking underneath you. You remembered recently sharing a bed with Frank and Billy, nestled between them while they smoked. You felt an ache between your thighs even now, the smell of Billy’s cologne and nicotine.

Billy fidgeted with the pen, a frown between his eyes, and his lashes fanning over his cheekbones.

The room was dim, casting harsh shadows across his face. He dropped the pen and it rolled across the desk. He grabbed his glass of whiskey, Tennessee Honey, and finished it off. He looked at you over the glass. “There’s no such thing as fairytales. That shit is for the storybooks.”

“But maybe in the fairytale Red Riding Hood gets eaten, and she’s happy for it.” You said, wide eyed, and eager.

“And I’m the wolf, right?” He set the glass down, admiring how you pressed your thighs together under his hot gaze.

“Billy, who says you’re the wolf?” You said giggling, and he couldn’t tell if it was the wine. “I can eat you when you visit your mother in that home you keep her in. When you keep her—“

Billy clicked his tongue. “Careful. You’re clever and I like you, but my ma is off limits.” He said through his teeth.

“Oh, Mister Russo, won’t you keep me and Frankie locked up, too?” You continued, unruffled.

He closed his laptop, and stood up moving around the desk. He fisted your hair, “Alright, little bird. Let’s go to bed. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll eat that pussy.”

You laughed, standing up, running for the stairs, looking over your shoulder, beckoning him. Your hips swayed, taking the first step, and then laughed again racing up the stairs, Billy hot on your heels.

And hell on his.