#fanfic trope game

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Fanfic trope: truth serum! 🧪

Hehe mornin'! :) So, truth serum...

how likely I am to write it:

It's a good trope, ngl. I don't see a pairing right now, but if anybody had thrown this at me a year ago, why not. I thiiiiiink there's a hint of this trope in one of my Emralt drabbles.

what character(s) or pairing I’d most likely write it for

Yeah, truth serum would have fit to Emralt, right? I realize I don't have a wide variety of characters 😂 Definitely not fitting to my new hyperfixation, but who knows, who knows...

Thank you!

[guroseinsei]

Hurt no comfort

and

Sharing a bed

For the fanfiction tropes ask ✨️

Hurt No Comfort -> A!!! A+ even if that was on the list. i love seeing any of my favorites getting hurt and being in pain and then having to suffer because theyre all alone or don't want to tell anyone else or ask for help :D.

Sharing A Bed -> B from me /0/. it's cute!! and i definitely seek it out when i want to read yummy unresolved sexual tension :3c keke

thank you rinnae <33!!

[monpetitchattriste]

fake-dating for the trope ask?:D

Thanks for the ask.

This is going to be a slight hot take here but I think I would give it a C.

I don't dislike it but I don't really look for it.

But if the fic has it, then I enjoy it.

Fanfic trope games

[questions-about-blorbos]

This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

[prokopetz]

We need to stop yelling at teenage fanfic authors about how polyamory isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card for relationship drama and start yelling the exact same thing at the creators of every queer dating sim with a moderately successful Kickstarter campaign and art that looks like this:

[hannikin-grahamkin]

He's not my enemy. He is my homoerotic rival and if anybody but me ever tries to hurt him I will promptly kill them.

[jonsawilldanceanon]

Lack of Morals ~ Lack of Vows

[this-vs-that]

This question was sent to our inbox. If you’d like for us to post a This or That poll for you, send the 2 things you want to see against each other to our inbox and we’ll let the people decide which one they prefer. Everything will be anonymous.

[what-would-your-blorbo-do]

This poll was submitted to us. If you’d like to send us your own scenario (plus different ways a character might react to said scenario) so we could make a poll for you, feel free to send them to our inbox.

[emptyportrait]

ship so good they yearn for each other without even knowing one another's existence

[bakedcrossaintt]

i honestly love it when people say "nobody gets (insert character) like i do" because yeah! everyone experiences media and relates to characters in a different, personal way and i think that's beautiful :3

[mithrilhearts]

Trope Tier List

I did this a few years ago, and wanted to see how my view on tropes I enjoy/don't enjoy, changed. So, I invite you guys to play!!

Updated link!

Tagging @elvain @thedragonsmaug @fantasyinallforms @lucigoo @mathelaw @conkers-thecosy @imakemywings @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @sunnyrosewritesstuff and anyone else who wants to play!

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[deancaslvr]

What I love about fanfiction is that it has endless possibilities and creative freedom, like even though it can be just endless stories about two characters/ a ship every story is different and written in a different expression even if the general plotline is the same.

it isn’t the characters that make fanfic beautiful, it’s the countless amount of writers and them spilling a piece of themselves into there work

it’s truly wonderful.

[questions-about-blorbos]

Reblog this with the dumbest way your Blorbo has died (can either be in canon or in a fanfic you’ve read or written)

[prokopetz]

"Sephiroth doing paperwork" gets treated like a funny meme about the peculiar fixations of fanfic writers, but if you think about it, the guy's job – at least pre-losing-his-shit – is to somehow be a corporate middle manager and a cop at the exact same time, both professions which are notable for the unbelievable quantities of bullshit paperwork they generate. He would absolutely be filling out Form 27-B.