I think that for every episode of bake off that has a foreign country as a theme there should be a special third judge that is just a grandma of that nationality and they should be equipped with an air horn they can toot in paul hollywood’s smug face whenever he confidently says something completely incorrect about a bake’s construction, flavour, texture, etc etc
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Ozz.. at this point I think you should just make fic of yourself… I call thee :
“Ozzgin, The groom of many, Poet of depravities, Maker of the Ancient House of whores (readers), and Hands of the illustrator.”
Faq, wait, now you sound like Zeus….
Yeaaaah, I do very much enjoy my consent, thank you :’) But mythological scoundrels aside, you did give me a very funny idea, anon. Like...
Yandere! Tumblr Writer x Literal Reader
TW: stalking, obsessive behavior
"Oh, a new post!" You roll over to the side and begin scrolling. Your favorite writer just shared a new story, and you can't wait to get your yandere fill.
You scan the paragraphs with a wide grin, yet as the story progresses, your features begin to twist in confusion. Are you imagining things? The author's notes mentioned something about a particular kind of Reader for this plot. But this...
It starts rather generic, then the details are fleshed out. Details eerily similar to your own life. "W-well, many people look like this, I suppose", you tell yourself reassuringly. That's right. A lovely, unexpected coincidence. At least you can insert yourself better into the story.
Oh, but it goes on. Isn't this your nickname? The place described sounds so much like your own home...and your family situation...and your street. You sit up and stare at the phone. What the hell?
Not only is everything an exact account of your life, but the plot dutifully replicates your last week, almost as if someone had followed closely behind. The times you left your place, what you wore, where you went. You just realize you've been holding your breath.
The story moves on to what would be tomorrow. The yandere finally decides to make a move, essentially trapping the Reader. You continue to gawk at the words, unable to look away.
It must be a misunderstanding. With trembling hands, you type in an anonymous ask. Funny coincidence, you explain, you nearly thought this story was about you.
Seconds later, you receive a notification. The writer just responded: "I have to get my inspiration from somewhere, (Y/N). I'll see you tomorrow :)"
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