saylor-twift

[saylor-twift]

every time someone writes a fic about the male mc sabotaging condoms/birth control and markets it as “breeding kink 🥺🥺🥺” an angel is FUCKING skinned alive and then spontaneously combusts

[saylor-twift]

yall this embarrassing af i literally was just typing in the name wrong. it’s: you should despise me (you should be scared of me)

scared instead of afraid yall im so blonde

guys please please help i’m losing my mind trying to find this one fanfic i read years ago that i loved so much and now CANT FIND????

it was on ao3 and it was a scaralumi fic, i know what the title was: you should despise me (you should be afraid of me) but just recently i searched it up and its goneeee i cant find it anywhere!!!

i have no idea who the author was, but i’m assuming they deleted it because it’s not on ao3. if anyone knows what i’m talking about and by some stroke of luck knows how to find the fanfic can you help me out?? im tweaking out this was genuinely one of my favorite fanfics ever 😭😭

it was like 5-6 chapters i can’t remember, but each chapter developed the relationship between scara and lumine a bit more, the first chapter lumine hides under wanderers hat for protection from the rain, chapter two they’re in a hot springs together, chapter 3-4? lumine is injured and scara freaks tf out and breaks down, next chapter they go to a festival together and kiss and wanderer panics and runs away, next chapter lumine drags him from his room and forces them to talk it out, wanderer ends up breaking down in her arms and it ends in smut?? HAS ANYONE ELSE READ THIS??

[saylor-twift]

guys please please help i’m losing my mind trying to find this one fanfic i read years ago that i loved so much and now CANT FIND????

it was on ao3 and it was a scaralumi fic, i know what the title was: you should despise me (you should be afraid of me) but just recently i searched it up and its goneeee i cant find it anywhere!!!

i have no idea who the author was, but i’m assuming they deleted it because it’s not on ao3. if anyone knows what i’m talking about and by some stroke of luck knows how to find the fanfic can you help me out?? im tweaking out this was genuinely one of my favorite fanfics ever 😭😭

it was like 5-6 chapters i can’t remember, but each chapter developed the relationship between scara and lumine a bit more, the first chapter lumine hides under wanderers hat for protection from the rain, chapter two they’re in a hot springs together, chapter 3-4? lumine is injured and scara freaks tf out and breaks down, next chapter they go to a festival together and kiss and wanderer panics and runs away, next chapter lumine drags him from his room and forces them to talk it out, wanderer ends up breaking down in her arms and it ends in smut?? HAS ANYONE ELSE READ THIS??

[saylor-twift]

yall im fucking losing my mind it happened again literally ALL i wanted was iansan bc i don’t have her yet, i got mavuika at 50 pity and then keqing at 6 pity what the fuck?? plz just give me an iansan no more 5 stars plz 😭

never in my life did i think i’d be upset about getting a constellation for a character, but here we are

all i wanted was c6 kujuo sara bc i was only at c4, and with 30 pulls and 0 pity I thought surely, that will happen? no. i got three chevreuses, one thoma, and another raiden shogun. those were also my pulls saved for mavuika so i thought if i didnt get sara then at least id be “pity building”… oh well. at least i have c1 shogun now.

[saylor-twift]

guys Nod Krai live Stranger Things 5 trailer and Ariana Grande soft launching tour all at the same time i don’t think i’m making it out of this alive 😭😭

[saylor-twift]

this is enough

Sometimes, Wanderer feels undeserving of your love.

wanderer ♡ gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

warnings: kissing, established relationship, not proofread

notes: My annual return to wanderer nation marked by yet another kissing fic disguised by the thin veil of a character study

Sometimes, Wanderer wonders what it’d be like to talk—like humans do.  

He wonders what it’d be like if words came as easily to him as love does, if the tug at his nonexistent heart could be formulated into phrases as simply as it feels: irrevocable. 

He wonders what it’d be like if he was worthy of something, anything, that could amount to the magnitude of the love you spare him, the wistful looks, the tenderest of expressions, the slight tilt of your head and the crinkle of your eyes. 

Wanderer wonders (he does quite a lot of that when it comes to you, after all), and he wonders. 

He wonders how you can find it in yourself to love someone like him—a puppet of all his incarnations, a puppet soiled with blood and fury that he had once lived and had to relive—when, once, long ago, not even his creator could. 

She had tossed him aside; he was too human and too little of a puppet. Now, he’s too much of a puppet and too little human. 

(If his creator did not want him, how could you?) 

But you do! You want him, you want him, you want him! 

Wanderer lets you string him across the city, pointing out mindless little nothings (You’ve always liked those stupid things, Wanderer thinks, following your gaze which tenderly envelopes the figures of some stupid-looking wooden statues), laughing at jokes that are, really, not funny at all. 

You want him. You’re lovely and you want him. 

“Wanderer?” you call, turning around, hand still intertwined tenderly with his. Wanderer does not emanate warmth (like humans do), nor does he have a heart that can lurch upon realizing that your eyes (its lovely color, its lovely shape, its lovely glimmer) shift to reflect his, but still, he thinks, this must be it. Love. 

You look at him, and this is love. Love (which humans feel). Love (which rests beneath the beholder’s eyes). Love (you are the beheld, the figure which has long etched into his periwinkle eyes). Love. 

“What?” he responds, his tone laced with the usual bite, the clipped sound a stark contrast to the softness of his expression, the slight flutter of his lashes, his lips parted, hanging agape. Love. He’s in love.

“You haven’t said anything in a while,” you say, tugging you towards him, concerned. And there it is! Love! He lets you drag him like some sort of imbecile, the warmth from your figure melting into the inherent coldness of his, the beholder and the beheld, intertwined, one. Love! 

Wanderer just scoffs. “It’s difficult for me to get a word in, when talking is all you know how to do.” 

Sometimes, Wanderer wonders what it’d be like to talk—like humans do. 

You just laugh, and the sound remains with him still, despite it being what it is: a sound. A mere disruption in the air, a chuckle which means you find him more amusing than threatening. You just laugh and Wanderer, really, thinks that it’s impossible—for you to be so lovely, for you to want him.

But then you look at him, your eyes crinkled, lips curved upwards, head tilted slightly to the side, and Wanderer feels something stutter in his chest, the emptiness palpable yet so violent. The skip of a beat, the faint pace of butterflies; this is love. You’re lovely. You’re lovely and he’s not; you’re lovely and, still, you want him. 

His hand tightens around yours. You grin. 

“What should we eat for dinner?” you ask, swinging his hand back and forth, a giddy hop to your steps as your pace slows. Wanderer lets you flail him around like some sort of faulty kite, his lips drawn into a thin line, fingers tightening around yours whenever he feels your grip loosen. 

He clicks his tongue. “I don’t feel such trivial things like hunger.” 

“What do you think about some mixed rice?” you still have the gall to query. He scoffs, turning away, brows furrowed to the point of his nose bridge wrinkling. 

Sometimes, Wanderer wonders if he’s enough. He’s too human and too puppet; he cannot feel hunger nor butterflies nor whatever it is that flimsy mortals feel. And yet, here you are: love. Love, the pinnacle of mankind. Love, the essence which humanity serves as its proxy.

Love. (Wanderer is too much puppet and too little human to understand its enormity; he doesn’t have a heart to feel its stutter, nor a rush of blood to warrant a flush.) 

Love. (Wanderer is too human and too little puppet to be wanted; his creator abandoned him due to the magnitude of emotions which he was cursed to feel, after all.) 

Love. (Wanderer is too much and too little; he has always been presumptuous in that regard, wanting more than what he deserves.) 

Love. Wanderer’s hand tightens around yours and he pulls you towards him, the warmth from your skin compensating for the lack of his own, your figure nearly falling if it weren’t for his steady hand which encompasses your waist. 

Love. Wanderer looks at you and there it is. And he wants you. And he wants love. 

He has always wanted far more than what he deserves, after all. 

“Fine,” he responds begrudgingly, the bite of his tone contrasting his melted expression, the hardened lines easing into beguiled waves. The slight downcast of his eyes, the flutter of his carved lashes, the way his lips tilt into the loveliest of smiles—love. There it is. 

“Should we get takeout?” you ask, arms reaching to wrap around his waist, pulling him into a hug which he stiffens at. He doesn’t deserve this. Your warmth compensates for his lack thereof and he doesn’t deserve this. Love; humanity; you. He doesn’t deserve anything. 

If his creator didn’t want him, how could you? 

But then you tilt your head to meet him and the shade of his hat fails to reach your lips, pressed against his, chaste and sweet and terribly, terribly lovely. Love. Wanderer has no heart but he feels something constrict in his hollow chest.

Love. Wanderer is too much and too little and he wants things he doesn’t deserve, so it’s only right that he returns your gesture with a much longer kiss, insatiable, hungry. Love. Wanderer scoffs before his hand presses the back of your head forward, forcing you to meet him once more, for the shade of his hat to fall everywhere but your lips. 

Love. He kisses you as if he’s starved—despite not feeling trivial things like hunger—and not once does he part to breathe. Wanderer is far too much of a puppet in that regard. But when he kisses you again and he discovers hunger, a monster reaching forth from his stomach, he becomes far too human. 

Love. 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your lips puffy and slightly agape. Wanderer smirks. 

“You look stupid,” is all he says. 

“Again?” you ask, ignoring his comment. He scoffs. 

“Who are you to give me commands?” 

Sometimes, Wanderer wonders what it’d be like to talk—like humans do. Words don’t come easy to him; he cannot find it in himself to utter the magnitude of an emotion which he has only ever begrudgingly felt, he cannot wrap his lips around the syllables of love despite it existing in front of him, tangible, you. 

Sometimes, Wanderer wonders. But then you grin that stupid grin of yours, and you stare at him with those stupid eyes of yours, and Wanderer thinks that, really, wonder isn’t worth anything at all. 

“Again,” you say, this time, without any room for rejection. He rolls his eyes. 

And still, he listens. His lips capture yours once more and Wanderer—too much and too little, too human and too much puppet—is enough. 

This is enough. 

[saylor-twift]

I think Wanderer’s love language, primarily, is acts of service for a few reasons.

His whole life he’s viewed himself, and been viewed by others, as a tool. A weapon. This is how he believes his worth to be determined, by how useful he is. He says this himself on multiple occasions, the most notable being after his defeat. In the sanctuary of surasthana he says he “isn’t quite worth what he used to be”, specifically because his strength has dwindled, and therefore his utility.

He enjoys feeling wanted and feeling needed, and this is why I believe he enjoys doing things for people, whether they ask for it or not. He notices when you’re low on an ingredient and goes out to buy it, or washes the dishes when he sees you’ve forgotten or are too tired to do so. Knowing he is capable of at least doing this for you puts him at ease, and the praise that comes with it, the acknowledgement and the gratitude, is what makes him remember that is isn’t worthless and is in fact capable of being loved, wanted, and needed. Please remember to praise him, let him know you see what he does.

He wants to be useful, since as mentioned before, he ties his utility to his worth. If he’s useful to you, everything’s fine in his eyes. It’s hard, almost impossible for him to believe that he can be loved for just who he is as a person, and not for the things he’s able to do for others.

One other reason he prefers acts of service to express affection is the fact that it doesn’t require direct confrontation or communication. While he’s not necessarily awkward, though he is just a bit, he simply prefers to keep to himself. Words of affirmation in particular are something he struggles with as he simply just doesn’t know how to use them properly, as he never heard them to him, and he certainly wasn’t taught how to use them. By simply providing for and assisting you, he’s able to demonstrate his affection without worry of accidentally hurting you. (Though he does still worry, what if he does something you didn’t want him to? What if he still manages to offend you, or even push you away?)

He also just likes taking care of you, as again, it makes him feel like he actually matters. He can rest easier knowing that he’s capable of assisting you with whatever you need. seriously, he would do anything you asked without falling short. he’ll act as if it’s an inconvenience at times, but it never is. Not to him.

[saylor-twift]

MWWAAAAAHHHH!!!

mwah!

[saylor-twift]

idk who needs to hear this but the term “vanilla s*x” feels so derogatory for me and misogynistic. i feel like men will use this to manipulate women into having rough s*x and make them feel bad for not wanting it.

meanwhile there are literally other WOMEN who will degrade their fellow girls for being vanilla and it’s so disgusting. ladies- you are NOT worth any less for not wanting to be handled violently or degraded in bed, and you are not any better for wanting what other women don’t. you do not have to do anything with your body that you don’t want to, and don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise

[saylor-twift]

hey! *jumps in front of you with a microphone like one of those annoying tiktokers that interviews people on the streets* wanna check out these headcannons i dug out of the trash from like 6 months ago?

‼️nsfw below the cut‼️

nyasty thoughts!! (written with mostly fem perspectives in mind, though i imagine it wouldn’t be too hard to picture this as gender neutral)

• I agree with the idea many have of him tending to have a rougher side in bed, though I think his actions stem from a more desperate side rather than masochistic.

• He just can’t control himself when it comes to his partner, he squeezes and bites and leaves marks because he just can’t stand to let any part of his lover go untouched

• He’s a selfish man, it’s just part of his nature. With a death grip on soft flesh he chases his own pleasure fast and hard because his mind literally cannot picture anything else.

• On that note, he eats puss like he’s dying. change my mind.

• But on the other side, I simply cannot fathom the idea that he would be with someone solely for the sake of their body. It’s quite the opposite. He is with someone because of the way they managed to chip away at his iron hard walls enough to squeeze themself through, and now they have a permanent spot in his heart. The lovemaking that comes with is just a delightful bonus, though one that he cherishes deeply.

• And when I say lovemaking, I mean that man makes love. Every second his hands pleasure your sweet spots, your chests are pressed flush together, or his ears ring with the sound of your melodious sounds of pleasure, his (self-proclaimed) non existent heart swells to the point of explosion.

• While he may not always be so gentle, everything he does for you is an outlet of the love that overflows and needs a place to go. (in some cases, that means being handled and pounded mercilessly till your bones are jelly. lowk cringed writing this plz forgive me)

• He is the type to spout words of affection in the heat of the moment, a stark contrast to the usual way he prefers to keep his thoughts to himself. As they say, drunk words are sober thoughts (and he is drunk on you).

• And once everything is said and done, he is tired and weak and vulnerable and he still can’t keep his hands off of you as his head falls limply into the crook of your neck.

• He traces and carefully massages the tender points and bruises left behind, whether consciously or not.

• And when he’s recuperated from his lovesick stupor, yet still very much in the afterglow, he likes to mutter questions of confirmation of your wellbeing, albeit not without the awkwardness of not quite knowing how to comfort someone yet.

• “are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

• “how are you feeling?”

• “don’t move, you need water. I will go and grab it.”

• “I said don’t move. You need to rest.”

• Sometimes a bath or shower follows suite, occasionally a home cooked meal after he instructed (insisted) you to rest while he prepared it himself. he truly enjoys to take care of you, it makes him feel wanted and needed

• and every now and then once you’ve both caught your breath, he may just initiate another round or two.

• He admires your figure any chance he gets, and subconsciously compares it to his own. Are his shoulders broader than yours? What about his fingers, are they longer? how does the dip and curve of your waist and hips compare to the rigid planes of his own?

• considering he is inexperienced in the areas of true, genuine human connection, he probably didn’t know how to make you feel good. but since you were an exception, and such a special one at that, he was willing to learn

• whether you were confident and knew what you wanted, or shy and inexperienced, he was willing to spend that time to learn what got you going

• don’t feel guilty if it takes a while. every moment spent with you was gold to him, he’d spend eternity there if he could

[saylor-twift]

this is too cute i love your art

Kiss practice with Wanderer

[saylor-twift]

call me woke or whatever you want but SOME (notice how i said some, not all!) of these people complaining about the lack of men in WuWa is starting to sound just a tad bit misogynistic.. like yeah there’s a lot of women, but some of yall are starting to sound like you just don’t like seeing women in power. just me? 🤷‍♀️

[saylor-twift]

you should totes tell me ur player id 😝

started playing wuwa about a month ago and i’m looking for friends!! my id is 505639368 and im active pretty often!! please let me know if you’d be interested in playing with me, im down to do anything 😽

[saylor-twift]

so apparently we’re all just having insane luck on the cartethyia banner huh? won my 50/50 and got weapon at early pity 🙏 🔥

[saylor-twift]

started playing wuwa about a month ago and i’m looking for friends!! my id is 505639368 and im active pretty often!! please let me know if you’d be interested in playing with me, im down to do anything 😽

[saylor-twift]

tell me i’m not isolated in my chronic yearning while i listen to nettles by ethel cain on repeat. wanderer is my willoughby 🥀

[saylor-twift]

why does every fem x fem fic constitute one of the ladies having a peen… i mean nothing wrong with some d but why is everyone so afraid of scissor city?? 🥀💔