#fanfiction saves lives

[she-ismysun-archive]

how am i surviving my last semester of college?

@chenfordsource this gif of Tim saying this and copious amounts of chenford fanfiction

I’m working on so many proposals and senior projects right now and I know at the end of this tunnel, I get to read more 🫶🏻 shout out to @elementsofemily1193 @ellitheria @girlintotv @chry5alis-05 and all the wonderful chenford writers of ao3 truly 🫡

[lovelyy-and-lost]

I was (am until this Sunday) in my schools musical

Erm. it's spongebob. *insert eye twitching and my brain rotting* I did get the role of Mrs. Puff tho so go me.

ANYWAYS

I had to reorder spectacular bc now that i'm thinking about it, I may have been slightly impulsive and messed up the order originally. yeah lol BUT IT ARRIVED AND I ACTUALLY ALMOST SCREAMED

THE ART, THE WRITING, EVERY SCARLIAN INTERACTION

the giggles I giggled.

I wish they had more chapters. I mean no hate the legend and tella but like- it's crimson and her hot pirate fiance. I wanna say husband but it was not specified

I LOVE YOU STEPHANIE. QUEEN

My copy of games untold has not arrived and i'm tryna survive off of @alwaysthefangirl 's fics and the 4 LibbyNash fics I found on a03

[slightlycrunchy]

i truly love fic recs from friends

bestie this is either gonna be the hottest of garbage that will make me wonder how we were ever in the same social circles or the holy grail of humanity that will have me throwing up in your dms at 3am

[ktkat1377]

*TW*suicide attempt mentioned

*

*

*

*

*

If anyone ever tells you that writing fanfiction is useless, send them to me and I will set them straight. I literally am posting this because something I wrote in a fanfic a couple years ago kept me from killing myself the other day.

I've never posted the story so it's not free to read, but the gist is that it's a really angsty piece about a character struggling with their sexuality and how keeping the secret is making them depressed but they fear rejection by their friends and family so they feel they can't tell them the truth. They try to escape their misery by inducing a chemical coma.

The part that kept me alive is how I described the process of after taking the poison to it kicking in and them losing consciousness. It wasn't pleasant and it was based on research I had done about what happens when a person ODs on the particular substance. They find the process exceedingly uncomfortable and immediately regret their decision to attempt to die by poisoning.

Why this helped me. I am currently stuck in an environment that I couldn't escape from and I had had such a string of hellacious days that I was legitimately considering ending it via taking all my beta blockers at once. It was remembering what I wrote about how much dying by poisoning sucks and how the character immediately regretted their decision that caused me to rethink my decision. Instead I told a trusted person and I got help. Not quite in grippy sock jail but I'm under observation. I'm still on the right side of the dirt because of a fanfic. Fanfiction saves lives, y'all.

[mj-irl]

My favorite!

those moments in au fics when you finally figure out how the author is reinterpreting a specific canon event and you basically go ‘oh snap that’s brilliant’ for five minutes straight

[theladyram]

Somebody fix me. Tell me how I’m crazy for loving a ship like I love a family member. For loving them more than my favorite movie, show, or hobby. For thinking of these characters as real people and cherishing them so much that I am unable to comprehend how the rest of the world doesn’t see what I see when I look at them together. For worshiping them for the imaginary consummate love that they embody…that in my eyes is so great it’s allowed me to believe in true love for the first time in my life. For the pain I feel, with no malice intended, when these characters are shipped with others, as if two beautiful souls were physically ripped apart from each other and forced into relationships with other people while their hearts shatter and spirits break. For adoring them so much it’s led me to seek out other people that share my love—friends and lovers that have brought me out of a very dark place. For allowing two fictional human beings to inspire me so profoundly that the impact has literally saved my life. Please tell me how crazy that is, how categorically insane I am…so on the days I’m feeling blue, I’ll chastise myself as a punishment; and on my good days I’ll remind myself that if this outlook is so damn crazy, then I don’t want to be sane.

I love my girls. 💜

[ninsiana0]

The Chronic Fatigue collided with The Election, and then t-boned into The Birthday Sads, and all I'm capable of doing, currently, is reading smutty fanfiction so I don't spiral into unending panic attacks.

How are you?

[limonmaid]

Tealhua Bluehua Yellowhua Northern Deserthua

[mj-irl]

Love this!!

I got a DM on my Instagram on a fic I’ve been working on on and off for the last maybe 12 years. They were so sincere and excited that I was the author and the story had really meant something to them. No one comments on this fic or at least hasn’t in years. I’ve been so motivated and plan on writing more now. Also it’s just so wonderful to hear someone liked what I put into the world.

Please comment on fics

This week, I read a fic that was around 20 years old, which had originally been posted on the author's personal website and which she added to AO3 a few years ago. She listed her email address with the fic, so after I finished reading, I sent her an email saying how much I enjoyed the story, how much I appreciated the work and effort she obviously put into it, and thanked her for uploading it to AO3. She responded the next day and thanked me for my message, then said she had a few more stories in the same series that she hadn't gotten around to uploading. I checked this morning--she added a 35,000 word novella and thanked me in the summary.

👏 comment 👏 on 👏 old 👏 fics 👏

[starcrossedstarfishes]

Fanfic authors writing Charles be like:

[england-would-fall]

Do folks who are someone’s favorite fic writer, fan artist, etc. know it? Are they aware that their work has made a genuine impact on the lives of other human beings walking the planet? That there are real flesh-and-blood people who have been touched and affected by what they’ve made, and that they are thought of and discussed frequently with affection and gratitude and awe?

I hope they know. They deserve to know.

[peachymaryobrien]

George everytime Lucy and Lockwood are bickering in the kitchen and then hitting eye contact a bit too intense like they might kiss:

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

I think about this at least once a day.

“While many people think fanfiction is about inserting sex into texts (like Tolkien’s) where it doesn’t belong, Brancher sees it differently: “I was desperate to read about sex that included great friendship; I was repurposing Tolkien’s text in order to do that. It wasn’t that friendship needed to be sexualized, it was that erotica needed to be … friendship-ized.” Many fanfiction writers write about sex in conjunction with beloved texts and characters not because they think those texts are incomplete, but because they’re looking for stories where sex is profound and meaningful. This is part of what makes fan fiction different from pornography: unlike pornography, fanfic features characters we already care deeply about, and who tend to already have long-standing and complex relationships with each other. It’s a genre of sexual subjectification: the very opposite of objectification. It’s benefits with friendship.”

— Francesca Coppa, “Introduction to The Dwarf’s Tale,” The Fanfiction Reader (via francescacoppa)

Someone put it into words. I gotta sit down

[t00muchheart]

It’s just that, in Faith, Dean thinks he’s going to die, and he’s braced for it, and when he lives, it’s only because someone else died in his place. And then, in In My Time of Dying, it happens again, and it’s even worse this time because that’s his father who died for him. So by the time All Hell Breaks Loose rolls around, of course Dean sacrifices himself: he’s already living on borrowed time, after all, but Sam? Sam is only here because he was dragged back into this life—he deserves to have the chance to leave it behind again, for good this time.

And sure, faced with the consequences, Dean can see that he doesn’t deserve it—not to die, and certainly not to go to hell—but he still believes that it’s better this way: better him than Sam, even if it would be best if it was no one at all.

But it has to be someone, and so Dean is dragged to hell, and after thirty years on the rack, Dean breaks—and after ten more, when he wakes up in his grave and pushes his way to the surface, he thinks that maybe he deserved it after all, maybe he deserved every bit of torture dealt to him and more.

And then he meets an angel, and the angel tells him that he was the one to raise him from hell, and the angel wonders at the fact that Dean doesn’t think he deserves to be saved, because even after everything, he sees something beautiful in Dean Winchester, something worth preserving. And the angel believes in Dean so much that he can’t help but start believing in himself again, just a little.

[poseidon-you-loser]

Cursed!Odysseus EPIC au drabble

(Warning: Iittle bit of body horror ahead)

“Choose.”

“Choose?”

“Someone’s got to die today and you will get the final say. You?” Zeus leaned in next to his ear, sparks alight in his eyes.

Odysseus held his side, blinking away the salt of the sea.

“Or your crew?” Zeus backed away as his eyes darted to the cowering remainder of his fleet.

“Please don’t make me do this, don’t make me do this.” He pleaded. He was so tired from it all.

Zeus paused, awaiting his decision, and his eyes unblinking in only a way that a god could.

“Please anything else. Please.” He begged, his knees giving out as he collapsed in front of the king of gods.

Zeus stared at him, then a wicked grin filled his face. “Very well.”

He breathed, looking up. “What?”

“Let’s make it a game. I won’t kill anyone. Their fate will rest in your hands, King of Ithaca.”

Odysseus stared in shock. “I don’t follow.”

Zeus stretched out his hand. “Your last game was a wind bag. Let’s see how long you last holding back the monster you’ve become.”

Odysseus felt a pressure in the air, a charge similar to the feeling before a thunderstorm. It made the air suffocating and his breath hitched as he pressed harder on his stab wound.

“The rules are this: you will have safe passage home if you do not kill a single member of your crew. If they kill you or release you off the boat, you all die. Can you play this game, Odysseus?” Zeus continued speaking.

Odysseus squinted at the brightly shining god, knowing there was a catch. There was always a catch. But he knew looking at the god before him that he had no other option. From behind him, Odysseus heard Eurylochus take a step closer to him. “Captain?”

Ah, and here he was, captain of the ship again. Words spoken so hatefully by his second reverberated in his ears once more:

“If you want all the power you must take all the blame!”

He told himself that Eurylochus didn’t know better, he’d never had to be captain, to own up to his mistakes for the crew.

And it didn’t look like he would start now.

Odysseus met the eyes of the god, never acknowledging the presence of his second. “Yes.”

Zeus, hand still outstretched, twisted his wrist in a flash and lighting struck Odysseus so hard that he lost his breath.

He might’ve screamed, but he wasn’t sure if sound even escaped him or could even be heard in that moment.

He vaguely heard the cries of his remaining crew, Eurylochus the closest to him yelling for him.

The bright white surrounding him abruptly faded away and he gasped on the deck as the lightning tapered off.

“Captain?” Eurylochus kneeled down to him, hands hovering over his body.

“Let’s see if you and your crew can handle the monster you truly are, King of Ithaca.”

Zeus boomed over him and that’s when a shiver went down his spine.

“Wait-“ he gasped out as his right hand supporting his weight on the deck suddenly cracked loudly.

He bit his lip as he groaned out at the terrible pain. His hand started to distort and he saw claws break through his fingertips.

He realized what was happening in horror. “No wait-please-“ he pleaded until he was interrupted by his own cry of pain as the rest of his body cracked sickeningly as it took a new form.

Eurylochus backed away from him.

The laughter of the king of gods boomed as he stepped back from them, taking his leave.

“Remember this, even one man dies and you lose the game. I will not shelter you from the wrath of my brother any more.”

Odysseus would’ve tried to respond to the retreating god, but he was busy holding his ribs as they rearranged below his skin.

He gagged and dry heaved onto the deck of the ship, nothing to come up from their lack of meals.

The whole reason they were in this mess to begin with, he thought bitterly as his breaths rattled in his aching chest.

It was agony for his body to betray him like this, but not unsurprising when betrayal was the most intimate feeling this crew felt.

He let out a guttural sound as his hands became giant paws, his hands clawed, and that wasn’t the only pressing issue.

His back throbbed as dark wings sprouted next to his shoulder blades, blood spraying out as they emerged violently from inside of him and tore through his clothes. He gasped out a strangled sob, and his tailbone had become some twisted tail emerging from underneath his cloak.

He’d felt every change happen slowly and agonizingly, until he was a panting mess on the boards of the ship, nothing human left about him. He blinked open his eyes, aware that his headache and stab wound from the mutiny were unfortunately still present.

His stomach growled loudly. A burning hunger unlike anything he had experienced before lit up his insides.

They had starved for countless days, this shouldn’t be anything new, right?

Right?

The burning felt all consuming and he vaguely realized what this feeling was.

Bloodlust.

His eyes darted to focus on his surroundings. He was so hungry, so desperate for relief, and he whined low in his throat as he picked himself off the deck.

He stood, noticing that he was much larger than before.

Even Eurylochus and his giant sword seemed small.

Insignificant, he thought.

Food.

A fumbling but still solid step was taken before he realized what he was doing and all the remaining crew on deck had drawn their weapons and pointed them at him.

Oh. Oh no.

Odysseus stood frozen. He opened his mouth to speak, finding an assortment of teeth of large sizes taking up space there and preventing him from forming words.

They had taken such a precious commodity from him. Who was he, King of Ithaca, former champion of Athena, and known strategist without his mind and his words?

A beast. A monster.

He gasped back a sob, backing away from his crew as they stared on in horror at him.

He felt something shift inside him, a minuscule thing really, but enough for him to groan as he grabbed his ribs.

He looked down to see a part of his flesh briefly reverted back to human before changing back to the grotesque combination of mammalian fur and reptilian scales.

He blinked, shock fading and his brain picked back up to problem solve.

Was this not permanent? Could he revert back to himself?

His stomach growled again and the bloodlust clouded his eyes. He fought it so hard, arms locking over themselves in front of him.

“Captain?” Eurylochus called for him, and the uncertainty in his voice was one he’d not encountered many times before they left for home.

He’d moved abruptly, tail swinging wildly as he backed himself to the edge of the ship. He was too large to go below deck and wait this out. Zeus knew this well he was sure.

He tried to open his mouth and speak once more, but all that left his throat was a low rumbling growl that reverberated through his chest and vibrated the very boards beneath him.

The crew did not drop their weapons.

Odysseus couldn’t blame them. The bloodlust was near impossible to fight and he panted harshly as he wrapped his arms around himself.

Penelope. Think of Penelope.

His left hand cracked loudly and he groaned. Looking down, he saw it was shifting back to normal, shrinking and taking on the hue of his flesh.

Taking a deep breath, he kept thinking of Penelope, her smile and the way she laughed.

More cracks of bones, more groans and growls of pain, but he didn’t stop.

Penelope. He would return to her, no matter the cost.

The cracking took a different sound. He looked down to see it had halted and even reversed, and the hunger hit harder than before.

He fell onto the deck, claws yet again supporting him as he fought back more bloodlust. It was so intense he could see red on the edges of his vision.

No. What had caused this? He was thinking of Penelope. What harm could she cause? She was the only thing keeping him human.

Or.

No. His drive to be with her is what caused his monstrous actions in the first place.

Scylla could attest to that.

But he couldn’t bring himself to think any differently.

He would do anything to see her again.

Saliva dripped from his panting mouth, and huffs of air burst from him as he could only see red.

Penelope.

I must have her.

The cracking became louder, but this time, it was not making him human again.

He howled, pain and hunger and bloodlust making him sound like a true monster.

He rose to his feet, and he heard distorted cries of fear from his remaining crew.

Good.

The blood from his stab wound still bled, red staining the fur and scales on his side, and he opened his mouth to roar.

These men betrayed him. He wanted to go home so badly and they were in the way.

He would make it back to Penelope, no matter the cost.

He charged at the nearest crew member, dodging the sword slashing down at him as his claws punctured their shoulder.

He raised them up in the air, and his memory told him this was the one who’d stabbed him, wasn’t it?

He’d opened his mouth, ready to feast upon him when a slash down his back, between the wings lying there, made him roar and drop the man.

He turned to see a man with a large sword. His eyes shined with horrified shock. His second. His betrayer.

Eurylochus.

Odysseus widened his eyes.

Eurylochus.

He froze. This was his friend. His brother. These were his men, his crew. What was he doing?

Odysseus could hear the echoing laughter of the king of gods in his head.

They were never meant to win this.

An arrow slammed into his right shoulder.

Stumbling back, he brought his left hand up to break the arrow shaft off with a wounded growl.

Red tinged his vision again and he took a step forward towards the direction of the shot arrow.

A clanging sound diverted his attention and he looked over at the source.

Odysseus took deep breaths as he saw Eurylochus shout at the crew, his sword tossed to the ground beside him.

The crew lowered their weapons. They had stopped.

He noticed that he also had stopped.

The crashing waves around them and his harsh pants were the only sounds for a moment.

“Captain?” Eurylochus held out his hands and did something he’d never expected him to do.

He stepped closer.

“We don’t want to fight you, Captain. Look at all we’ve lost and all we’ve learned.”

Odysseus recoiled, the familiar words hitting him hard.

Eurylochus was right.

The cracking started up again and he hunched over with a groan.

Eurylochus was right.

They couldn’t afford to fight each other like this. It was all a part of these god games.

He wouldn’t play their game.

He’d play his.

“Come back to us, Captain.” Eurylochus held out his hand and Odysseus could swear he saw the shadow of Polites from behind him.

He blinked and it was gone.

“You can relax my friend.” The words echoed, said by the wind and his second in front of him.

A sob choked out from his chest as he’d collapsed on the deck, nearly human again.

“Captain!” He’d heard murmurs around him as he panted harshly, bones trying to arrange back to what they once were.

Some didn’t quite make it, as he felt the uncomfortable feeling of sitting on a tail and the wings lying limply to his sides. He felt his head fall back and heard a hollow thunk at the same time his head jerked with impact. A hand raised to inspect found horns as well upon his head and his ears were not the shape or location he was used to.

They twitched when he touched them.

Eyes closed, he sighed and groaned at the pains of his body, and flinched when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, Captain.”

“Eurylochus.” Odysseus slurred the words, teeth too sharp and large in his mouth and the blood loss, wounds, and body transformation trauma catching up to him.

“Rest. I need supplies for his wounds. Now!” His second commanded from over his shoulder.

Shuffling and murmurs confirmed a few of the crew’s compliance.

“We will get through this.” Eurylochus spoke under his breath.

Odysseus groaned again as a hand reached for the arrow lodged in his shoulder.

“Nooooo,” he’d moaned, a low underlying growl vibrating in his chest.

“I’m sorry, my friend.” A pause. A shaky inhale. “I’m so sorry.”

The arrow came out with one swift jerk.

He howled as his claws tore at the wood beneath him and his eyes shot open to see the stormy skies above him.

He would make it. They would make it. The gods would not win this game.

Part two is up now!

[desired-misery]

Kennedy blinks, and yeah, his pupils are large. "You think I'm high?"

"Drugged," Hunnigan corrects. "But yes, I am pretty sure I saw them give you something."

Kennedy thinks about it. "That was very nice of them, I feel great."

Piers snorts again.

"Leon—"

"I feel fine," Kennedy repeats.

"Definitely high," Chris says, and he looks almost like he is trying not to smile...

(close follow up to my prior post, where Leon had been tortured and interrogated. But Leon being Leon, wasn't cooperative. So he was heavily drugged... in the hopes of making him more compliant... but Leon being Leon, has a funky pseudo-bioweapon metabolism after Spain so he needs a way larger dose than what he is given. So ya boy is just high and feeling nice right now despite actually having a fractured arm among other things).