#i love fanfiction so much
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opossumthing · 2 months ago
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do you ever read something and you’re like. yeah. yeah. this is gonna stick with me for the rest of my life. this is gonna rattle around in my brain until it stops functioning entirely. this has changed the way i think forever. i am stuck with this for eternity
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hibiscusbiue · 2 years ago
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I LOVE FANFIC WRITERS!!!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!! my creative outlet has never been more fueled in my LIFE
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treantalis-borealis · 1 year ago
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REIN: what you put on a horse to help direct where it goes, also used to mean 'to control something'. Ex. "Let's rein in our imagination, shall we?"
REIGN: to rule over something "To the queen! Long may she reign!"
I see this so much in fic and it drives me a bit nuts.
IT’S NOT ‘PEEKED’ MY INTEREST
OR ‘PEAKED’
BUT PIQUED
‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’
THIS HAS BEEN A CAPSLOCK PSA
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iwasbored777 · 5 months ago
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Fanfic writers after watching the honda odyssey scene in Deadpool & Wolverine
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evasivaardilosa · 1 year ago
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Don’t you love when a fic brings a hc for a character that you never thought of before but that makes so much sense that you never will be able to think of canon without this piece in it again??
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sceletaflores · 24 days ago
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come on into my bed with me (i know you want to)
pair: old man!logan howlett x fem!reader
wc: 4.1k
contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, some sad vibes because i can't function without them, large age gap (but isn't that obvious by now? mid 20s/old as fuck), established relationship but only kind of, falls in the logan 2017 timeline but very loosely, LONGINGGGG, gratuitous nickname use (kid, baby, honey, ect), nasty dirty talk cause he's old and gross, not so dry humping, JUST THE TIP RAHHHH, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.
nat’s note: this was heavily inspired by imogen heap's 'i am in love with you' because that song fucks so hard and it really gave me lots of old man logan vibes. i was just so overcome with nasty thoughts that the beat possessed me and i blacked out and listened to it on a constant repeat while i wrote this instead of doing my a&p work. kisses!
dividers by angel @saradika-graphics!
you can't sleep, logan left his door open...
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Rain pelts at the smudged glass of your window, drops trailing down the span of the panes that you follow with your eyes.
It's been raining nearly all week, a rare thing in Mexico, especially somewhere as dry as Sonora.
You used to love the rain. You felt a special kind of comfort anytime night would come and there'd be a certain chill swirling through the air, that familiar scent of damp soil and wet stone rising as the first drops hit the ground.
In Sonora, rain is supposed to be a gift—a reprieve from the unrelenting heat, a chance for the dry earth to drink.
It should feel cleansing, like a reset of sorts, and maybe it would have a few months ago.
Now it just feels heavy, oppressive. Each raindrop splattering against the glass feels like a reminder of everything that's stuck, unmoving.
The soft noise of it was almost enough to lull you to sleep, but it was still no match for your wandering mind.
You’ve been finding yourself here a lot recently, shrouded in the scratchy sheets of your bed in the quiet dark encompassing your room, mind racing.
It was raining the first night he touched you.
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You've been with Logan and Charles for nine months.
A runaway hitchhiker turned caretaker after you fled from the meaningless scraps of your life back in Texas.
Logan found you on the side of the highway coming back from a shift in El Paso. One stop with the hazards on and a hasty conversation through a rolled down window later, you were throwing your bags in the back of his limo and climbing into the front seat.
You didn't realize until much later that he never truly asked you to stay, or to care for Charles alongside him.
It was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, a roof over your head in exchange for your help. Watch over his ailing father for a few days while he went out to get him more medicine, that's what you settled on.
Yet somehow, here you are, nine months later.
You cook meals in a dusty kitchen that always smells faintly of motor oil, listen to Charles’ stories about a world you’ll never fully grasp, and watch Logan patch himself up in grim silence after he’s returned from whatever trouble found him this time. 
It's strange how the days seemed to stretch endlessly, but the weeks have slipped past like a blink. You carved out a routine in this crumbling house in Sonora, built something that resembles a life even if it feels borrowed, like a second-hand coat that never quite fits right.
At first, you weren’t sure what kept you here. Maybe Charles. 
You warmed to him almost immediately, drawn in by his gentle demeanor and the way he seemed to see right through you without a hint of judgment. 
Even when his mind faltered, slipping into tangled memories or distant fragments of a life long past, he treated you with a kindness you hadn’t felt in years.
You’d come to think of him as a king, regal and noble. A king stripped of his castle, yet still wearing a crown, if ever so skewed—a king nonetheless.
You still aren’t sure, but you can’t shake the sense that leaving now would be like tearing off a scab—painful and unnecessary.
And then, one night, the rain came.
You remember it vividly, a torrent so sudden and unrelenting. The downpour soaking the dry dirt surrounding the plant. 
You couldn’t help yourself from wandering out, stood barefoot on the porch as the cool air nipped at the skin of your arms and legs.
“You’re gonna catch a cold standin’ out here.” Logan said from somewhere behind you, his voice rough and low after the silence of a long shift.
You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even glanced his way. “I like the rain.”
There was a beat of silence before he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. His hand had been hesitant at first, a brush of calloused fingers against your arm. 
You didn’t pull away.
The heat of his palm felt scalding, causing goosebumps to pebble along your damp skin. His thumb swiped across the circular scar just above your elbow, a cigarette burn, one of many.
He didn’t say anything as he turned and walked back into the house. You learned quickly that Logan’s not the type to fill silences with empty words, but you both knew something shifted.
He came into your room later that night. The squeaky mattress of your bed dipping under his weight as he slid his hand down your stomach, pausing just above the waistband of your shorts, a silent question.
He didn’t kiss you, but the rain pattering against the tin roof was enough to swallow your soft moans and gasps.
You settled into something undefined—a constant push and pull of need and silence. Logan touched you when he needed to, and you let him because you wanted to.
It wasn’t love, not then. It wasn’t even comfort. But it was connection. A tenuous thread in the quiet storm of your lives.
You figured that was enough.
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The rain hasn't slowed. If anything, the howl of the wind is stronger than before.
The soothing rhythm of droplets hitting your window turned aggressively sharp, like darts thrown against a worn cork board.
The boom of thunder is nearly in sync with the pulse of your core, aching and insistent in its need.
It’s been weeks since Logan touched you last, his endless cycle of guilt stronger than it's been before. He’s never outright said it, but you know it’s there.
The silence between you both has stretched longer than you'd like to admit, a quiet that isn't comfortable anymore.
You know he’s got it in his head that he’s somehow taken advantage of you. A perverted old man falling weak to the pretty, young thing taking up space in the bed two doors over from him.
The thought stirs something deep within you, a mix of frustration and confusion. He’s not wrong, not exactly—but he’s not right either. You aren’t a child, and you aren’t helpless. You knew what you wanted, what you needed.
And that hasn’t dared to change.
You shift in bed, the sheets tangling around your legs as your body hums with a restlessness you can’t shake. The air in your room feels thick, charged, and suffocating, a mirror of the space between you and Logan.
He doesn’t understand that you want him too, that you weren’t some helpless thing to be protected or shielded from his darkness. It eats at you until your skin is practically buzzing with it, buzzing with the need to show him.
There’s only so much silence you can take before it becomes too loud to ignore. 
You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the hardwood cool against your bare feet. You know it’s late, but you don’t care.
You walk through the dimly lit hallway, the creak of the floorboards quiet under you as you make your way to Logan’s door. It’s cracked open, a yellow glow spilling through to guide you like a lighthouse guides its ships to shore.
When you reach the beat up wood you don’t hesitate, you push it open the slightest bit, peering through the widened gap. 
He’s there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge you, but you know he knows you’re there.
You cross the threshold, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you pull the door shut behind you, leaning your back against it.
“Logan,” you say softly, your voice rougher than you intended.
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he runs his hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face. The lamplight catches the sharp planes of his face, a familiar weariness etched into his features.
His fingers flex at his sides, and for a moment, you think he’s going to tell you to leave—to go back to your room where it’s safe, where you won’t make things more complicated than they already are. You almost brace for it.
But then he speaks.
“What’s wrong, kid.” His voice is nothing but a deep rumble, like gravel crunching underfoot.
You shrug noncommittally, hands messing with a stray thread hanging from the edge of your shorts. “Can’t sleep.”
Logan sighs long and slow through his nose, hands pressing into his thighs. “Thought you liked the rain.”
You smile faintly at the irony, chest swelling with something dangerous. 
You take a step further into the room, pushing yourself off the closed door. The familiar scent of him invades your senses. It’s a mixture of leather, earth, and something raw—something undeniably him. 
You stand there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin and taut before you finally speak.
“Can I stay?” The words come out barely above a whisper, but they land like a crack of lightning.
You feel your heart thud painfully in your chest, not from fear, but from the sudden vulnerability that makes your skin burn.
The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in as you step forward, each movement slow and deliberate. You stop at the edge of his bed, the sheets pressing against the bare skin of your thighs.
Logan’s gaze flickers over his shoulder, meeting yours briefly before he looks away again, like he’s trying to convince himself that the ache in his chest isn’t real.
“You should go back to bed,” he says, voice gruff. “It’s late.”
“I don’t want to go back.” You shake your head even though he isn’t turned around to see it.
Without thinking, you crawl onto the bed, the comforter making soft shushing sounds under your hands and knees. You reach out, fingers brushing the back of his neck, the muscles there tight with strain.
Logan flinches slightly, but he doesn’t pull away, and that’s all the permission you need.
You shift closer, pressing your chest against his back, and letting your hands settle on his shoulders. The heat between you is electric, charged with something unsaid, something raw and undeniable.
“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against the back of his ear, your voice a mixture of defiance and desire.
Logan stiffens, but this time, you feel the shudder that runs through him, the way his body responds despite the walls he’s built around himself.
You know he’s torn, that he wants to fight this. You feel it in the tension that radiates from him, in the way his body seems to be fighting against the instinct to turn toward you.
But you don’t care anymore. You’re done with silence.
Your fingers slide down his back, feeling the rough fabric of his shirt against your skin as you press yourself closer. Your breath is hot against his neck now, and you can feel the rapid pulse in his veins beneath your lips as you hover just above his skin, waiting.
“Logan…” Your voice is softer now, almost pleading. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but you don’t have to.
His hand comes up, brushing against your wrist as if testing, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t.
Instead, you lean into him further, your lips brushing the curve of his neck, whispering into the tension that still hangs heavy between you. “Please.”
The last shreds of Logan’s resistance snap under the cloying weight of your touch.
He’s moving before you can even register what’s happening, rearing up with heavy hands that land on your shoulders to push you backwards.
You fall back onto the bed with a soft gasp, bouncing on the mattress once, twice, before Logan follows. His body settles over yours like a warm blanket, thick forearms braced on either side of your head to support his weight.
"Why couldn't you sleep, honey?" he asks, dark eyes boring into yours intense enough to get your stomach churning. The green of them is deeper than normal, like fresh moss growing over stone.
“I was thinking,” you whisper, breathless. Your pulse races beneath your skin, you wonder distantly if he can hear it too.
“Thinkin’ about what?” he presses, breath fanning over your lips temptingly. 
Your brows furrow, a soft noise escaping you. You can't help but tell the truth. “About you.”
Logan hums, eyes trailing along your face slowly. He slots a knee between your thighs, groaning softly at the wet heat that seeps through to his jeans.
You gasp, hips bucking down instinctively. Your pussy aches desperately, leaking arousal into the cotton gusset of your panties.
His jaw clenches at the sound, muscle ticking just beneath the grey of his beard. “Is that right? You been layin' in that bed, thinkin' about me, gettin’ all worked up?"
Your face burns under his scrutiny, but you don’t shy away. You arch your back, pressing yourself as close to him as possible, letting the heat of your body speak for you.
“Yeah,” you breathe, the confession trembling on your lips. “I need you, it hurts.”
Logan exhales sharply, like the words knocked the air out of him. His hands slide from your shoulders, rough palms gliding down the skin of your arms before settling right under the swell of your breasts.
“Where’s it achin’, baby?” he asks softly, words almost getting lost in the dark of the room. “Show me.”
You let out a soft breath, reaching down to take his hand in yours.
Without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand down your trembling body until his palm rests over the apex of your thighs, where the damp fabric of your shorts clings to your swollen folds.
“Here,” you whisper, voice barely audible above the rain pounding against his window.
A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and his fingers press more firmly against you, feeling the slick heat that’s soaked through the thin cotton. His eyes darken further, the green almost swallowed by the black of his pupils.
Logan’s thumb drags over your clit, slow and deliberate, coaxing a needy whimper from your lips.
“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice thick. “You’re drippin’ for me, aren’t you? Didn’t even need to touch you, and you’re already so fuckin’ wet.” 
You whimper softly, bucking your hips against his hand, desperate for more.
"I've been like this all night," you admit, your voice going high and needy. "Thinking about how good you make me feel. How much I want you."
Logan’s eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something new swirling through them, something you’ve never seen before.
A beat passes—too long—almost agonizing. His free hand lifts from your hip, gently cupping your cheek, fingers brushing against your skin, like he isn’t sure if he has the right to touch you like this. 
His thumb brushes your lip, his gaze flicking to your mouth before returning to your eyes, asking for permission, even though neither of you had ever really needed it before.
"Logan," you say, the sound a little breathless, unsure of how to navigate this sudden shift, but he doesn’t keep you waiting.
He closes the distance in a heartbeat, lips crashing into yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect.
It’s like the world around you falls away, leaving only the warmth of his lips, the taste of him, and the pressure of his body against yours. The raging storm outside dulling until it’s nothing but fuzzy background noise.
His kiss is rough, deep, urgent, but there’s something more in it, a slow unraveling. Like he’s trying to carve himself into you, a permanent mark, a reminder that he was here, even if he never says it out loud.
Logan tastes like rich smoke and whiskey, the sharp edge of him mixing with the sweet burn of need. It sends your head reeling, arms coming up to circle around his neck.
You can’t find the words to describe it, not with the way his fingers slide through the wetness gathering at your entrance, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
Your hips thrust upward, begging for more, your body hungry for the release he’s just out of reach of giving.
“Want you inside me, Logan,” you moan desperately, slick lips brushing his with every word. “Please.”
Logan's body stiffens against yours at the sound of your pleading, his grip tightening on your cheek like he's trying to anchor himself in the reality of what you're asking.
“Shit,” he growls under his breath, his forehead pressing to yours as he closes his eyes. His chest heaves, the tension in his body palpable. "I—" he pauses, struggling to form the words, but you can see it in his eyes. He's conflicted, desperate, yet still hesitant.
You move against him, your body restless, your need undeniable, feeling the rigid outline of his hard cock pressed firmly against your thigh. A thick plane of heat that has your pussy clenching around the tips of his fingers.
You don’t want to push him, not anymore. But you’re past the point of waiting for permission.
Your lips meet his again, softer this time, coaxing, until he finally gives in, groaning against your mouth as he kisses you back with an intensity that steals your breath.
“I want to feel you,” you whisper, your hands trailing down to the hem of his shirt, pushing it over the swell of his pecs. 
His skin is hot under your fingertips, rough and familiar. Your fingers trail lightly across his chest, nails scratching through the salt and pepper hair dusted across his skin as you urge him closer.
“Just the tip,” Logan mutters under his breath, barely above a whisper. His voice hoarse, like he’s bargaining with himself. “Just to make you feel good, but that’s it, understand?”
You bite your lip, the edge of frustration gnawing at you. It’s not everything you need, not everything you want, but it's something. And right now, it’s enough.
You nod your head, hands already moving to the front of his jeans. You undo the button with shaking fingers, tugging the zipper down and pushing the worn denim away. 
His cock springs free, already hard, leaking with the same desperation you feel. You run your fingers along his length, feeling the heat of him, the steady throb of his pulse.
Logan peels down the thin layer of your shorts, cursing under his breath when he finds you completely bare underneath, your slick pussy shining under the dim light.
You watch him, chest heaving, as he stares down at you—his eyes dark and full of something primal, something raw.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers tracing the outline of your wetness. He groans low in his throat, his thumb circling your clit once before moving down, dipping inside you just barely. “You’re perfect, baby.”
“Logan,” you whine, thighs spreading in a clear invitation. You patience is running exceedingly thin, your whole body alight with the feeling of a raging forest fire
“I know,” he mutters, placating. He takes the throbbing length of his cock in his hand, swiftly settling between your legs. “I know.”
The thick head drags through your folds, smearing pre-come along your skin and adding even more to the mess between your legs.
A quiet moan passes through your swollen lips, your muscles tightening as he slides himself along your clit. A slow back and forth movement that sends sparks shooting up your spine.
Logan grits his teeth, his breath shallow, as he finally aligns himself with your clenching hole. 
The air around you feels charged, a taut thread stretched between anticipation and restraint. You shift your hips slightly, just enough to encourage him, your eyes locked on his as you beg him silently with your gaze.
Then, with a low growl that vibrates through you, he pushes forward, just enough to make you gasp in relief, the head of his cock sliding home in your entrance.
And though it’s only the tip, the sensation of him inside you is enough to set your world alight. 
You can feel it, deep in your bones—the simmering, searing heat that makes everything else fade into the background.
Logan presses his lips to your forehead, his breath hot against your skin as he keeps his movements slow, deliberate, his hands holding your hips steady. "This is what you wanted, huh? Got you begging for it, honey," he growls softly. "Even if I’m only givin’ you a taste."
His hips roll languidly, staying true to his word and never sinking deeper than the thick head of his cock. His hand grips the base tightly, his fist fucking slow strokes over the length of himself to where he’s spreading your pussy open.
His scarred knuckles bump against your clit with every stroke, fanning the fire building in your lower stomach.
“Feel so fuckin’ good, honey,” he groans into the skin of your neck, the pace of his hips speeding up ever so slightly. “Feels like heaven.”
You claw at the skin of his back, touch wild and desperate. It takes everything in you not to shift your hips down, to sheath the rest of his cock deep inside your and lock your ankles around his back so he can never leave again.
Logan’s lips find your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he shifts against you. “Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice low, almost a command, yet laced with something tender. “Tell me you want me.”
You meet his gaze without hesitation, your voice steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” 
The words come out without thought, raw and honest, and you see something in his eyes shift—a flicker of relief, of something deeper than lust.
Logan groans like he got shot, his body shuddering above you as a low growl tears its way from his chest. He fucks into you faster, short, quick thrusts that steal all the breath from your lungs.
Sparks go off behind your closed eyes, bright white and glittering. You can feel yourself getting closer, your body trembling as you grind up against him, meeting him halfway, needing more, needing release.
“Logan,” you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging in. “I’m so close. Please—”
“Let go,” he growls, his pace increasing, his body pressing harder against yours. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
With his command, you unravel, the world spinning around you as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless, gasping for air, your body quivering beneath him as he holds you through it.
Logan follows, tearing himself from the tight grip of your pussy with a sharp jerk of his hips, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as he shoots thick ropes of come over your slick folds.
Your body shakes at the feeling, a breathless whimper pulled from your slack lips at the sticky warmth of his release.
He collapses onto the mattress next to you, his body shuddering enough to match your own. The room falls into a deep silence, the only sounds your mingling breaths and the distant sound of thunder.
A sick sort of dread bursts through the sweet afterglow of your hazy mind, settling in your stomach like a lead weight. You think that this is the moment where Logan will realize what you’ve done, that he’ll retreat back into himself and send you away.
Send you back to your own room and leave you to lay in the cold aftermath of your own recklessness.
You brace for it, the instinct to pull away, to protect yourself from his withdrawal, but it never comes. 
Instead, you feel his strong arm slide over your waist, pulling you closer, his body heat a stark contrast to the chill creeping in from the window.
His breath is warm against your neck as he shifts, his fingers tracing absent circles on your skin in a move that’s so endearingly human it has your chest aching.
"Stay here tonight?" he asks, his voice rough, almost a whisper.
Your heart clenches, tears burning at your waterline at the vulnerability of his tone. It breaks the dam inside you, relief and something dangerously close to love flooding your body in a bursting rush of water.
“Of course,” you murmur, your voice shaky.
Logan’s hand tightens around you, his thumb brushing over your ribs. He presses a soft kiss to the bare skin of your shoulder, settling onto the mattress with a slow breath.
You drift to sleep more relaxed than you’ve felt in years, even with the knowledge of the slow journey that lies ahead of you. It won’t be easy, it never is with Logan. You can’t find it in yourself to care.
Because even though the rain falls, the desert doesn’t bloom overnight. 
And neither do you.
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tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
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frobby · 1 year ago
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I WAS JUST TALKING ABOUT THIS BUT THE REVERSE!
This is why "fanfic turned into original book/movie" usually flop cuz in fanfics u already have familiarity with the characters so u don't have to build that connecting tissue you can just jump into it cuz the reader is already familiar with who you're talking about and their relationships with eachother. And that's a positive thing! For all the reasons op said and more, but when u try to translate the fanfic into an original work with without sweeping changes u lose that familiarity its not Edward Cullen and Bella swan from twilight its someone you don't know but the work doesn't take the time to dig into their personalities because it assumes you already KNOW them but original works aren't afforded that luxury of familiarity which makes the characters feel flat and lifeless. Fanfics also tend to be more dramatic than original works (as op said) but that makes the new readers feel like the characters shouldn't even be together cuz they're "always fighting" because they're not seeing the build even tho the oc work is trying to CONVICE YOU THAT YOU HAVE.
Im not trying to say u can't make movies or books out of fanfictions but it's a different medium entirely you have to really change it because you're missing a big formulative piece of world building in a fanfic because ur exploring someone else's characters
I think one of the big strengths of fanfiction as a medium is that it can, on average, assume the reader has a way higher degree of familiarity with canon than like…canon can. If you’re in the Star Wars AO3 tag you probably like Star Wars enough to remember more things about it than the average Star Wars-enjoying-ten-year-old. Which makes it way easier for fanwriter a to get to the juicy stuff and really engage with the worldbuilding or minor characters without having to spell out like. Who Wedge Antilles is for everyone who forgot or never noticed him in the first place. You could write a book about Wedge in the old EU because EU readers could also be assumed to be serious fans, but you can’t make a new canon Disney+ show about him. Those cost money to make and are intended for a broader audience.
And all this means that like. A good fic writer can and often will surpass canon when it comes to like. Thematic resonance and stuff, because they can really dig into something. Star Trek 2009 gave Kirk a new, more generic tragic backstory because it couldn’t expect the average moviegoer to be familiar with Kirk’s old, way more interesting tragic backstory. (Frankly, I’m not sure jj abrams knew about TOS Kirk’s backstory) whereas I have read a LOT of well-written, interesting, deeply resonant fanfic examinations of Tarsus IV, and what it means for Kirk’s character that he’s a genocide survivor. Star Trek 2009 answers the question “why did Kirk cheat on the kobayashi maru?” With “‘cause his dad crashed a spaceship when he was a baby.” A close examination of TOS canon implies the answer is “because he lived through a real-life Kobayashi that did have a win option, but which wasn’t taken.” BUT—and this is significant—even the TOS canon movies can’t really assume knowledge of the full TOS tv show, so that implication is never examined or made explicit. Instead it’s fanfic (and maybe spin off novels? Idk I’ve only read 2 trek books, if there’s one out there that covers this that would be really cool) where we get dives into that thread, where Kirk gets a commendation for original thinking because he can look a testing board in the eye and say “I’ve seen what happens when someone is entrenched in this kind of thinking, and I cannot let it happen to me. I understand the lesson, but it’s not hypothetical anymore and it never will be. I did what I had to do.” And that’s interesting! That’s meaningful! That can’t happen in a summer blockbuster. But it can happen in fic, easily, and that’s a strength of fic, I think.
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salemsvlog · 8 months ago
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Maddie, joking about Buck liking guys for almost 5 seasons: for the kicks an giggles
Maddie, after Buck comes out to her:
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mothdogs · 1 month ago
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Making myself sick thinking about how in the Luncais romance scene, if you choose the alarmed “I didn’t think I’d see you again either” dialogue choice, Rook expresses doubt that they ever actually left the Fade and wonders if they’re still imprisoned there, dreaming this moment up. Lucanis reassures them twice that they’re in the real world, with him, and then grounds them with a kiss and a promise.
And you know who else spent a significant portion of the game still mentally trapped in a prison, deeply traumatized and in pain, with parts of himself unsure if he ever truly escaped the Ossuary?
I really wonder if there was originally meant to be some version of the “You’re really here / I swear” conversation coming from Rook during or right after the events of Inner Demons because goddamn if that isn’t the most delicious narrative parallel
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starkspi · 5 months ago
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From "Managerial Liberties" on AO3 by @miribalis (where they collect fallen angels like shiny Pokémon at the hotel), it makes me really happy (and has my heart).
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tarabyte3 · 10 months ago
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Hey fanfiction writers: If no one's ever told you this before, it's not just fanfiction.
It's something you spent hours, days, maybe even months on, pouring your heart out onto a page because you were so full of passion and thoughts about a story or characters, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn't get it out. Maybe you lost sleep because your mind was racing with ideas or you forgot to eat or drink water because you were so focused. Maybe your back aches from being hunched over for so long, unmoving. Maybe you even felt like you were going a little feral because you were so excited about what you were creating, or were frustrated when you got stuck. Either way, you put your heart, mind, soul, and body into making something.
It's okay to want people to read it, and it's okay if you're disappointed that they don't or it doesn't get as much of a reaction as you were hoping for. Humans are social creatures. Sure, we write for ourselves, but we also share because the joy of doing so is just as powerful as the joy of the process. Of having created something.
We all experience that joy and that disappointment, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
So it's okay. It's not just fanfiction.
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drivebypainter · 5 months ago
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What’s this? A fan fiction written by yours truly?! Yes! It is!
50% of All Marriages End in Divorce by Teacat11
Rated: Mature
Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Marriage, Fake Pregnancy, Queer Platonic Relationship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Obsessive Luo Binghe, Confused Mobei-jun, Tired Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua & Shen Qingqiu Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Oblivious Shen Yuan, Awkard Kissing, Enthusiastic Kissing, Dubious Kissing, Delusional Thinking and Activities, Real Marriage, Happy Ending.
Summary:
"“Well it goes like this, if we get fake married it won't be suspicious to Mobei-jun or anyone else if we both wander off together to look for Moon-Dew Sun Mushrooms-“
“Sun-Moon Dew Mushrooms.”
“-and if one of us pretends to be pregnant-“
“WHEN DID PREGNANCY COME INTO PLAY?!”
“-then Luo Binghe won't hurt us, after all, he wouldn’t hurt a pregnant person or the pathetic husband of said pregnant person! Which means we could avoid having to die in the first place!” Shang Qinghua finished his explanation with jazz hands. Shen Qingqiu felt like spitting blood.
Or
Months after the Immortal Alliance Conference disaster, Shen Qingqiu learns a bit of crucial information: Shang Qinghua, the treacherous rat behind the disaster in the first place, is a transmigrator! The two immediately begin to work together to find ways to survive Luo Binghe's return and the subsequent demise of their sect and lives, and with few options and time running out, they come to a quick and easy solution to save their skins; get fake married."
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justaz · 5 months ago
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merlin who uses his magic everyday in ways that he doesn’t realize isn’t normal. magic helping him see in the dark so he can find his way in the woods or dark rooms with no problem. connecting with the woods around him so he always knows where he is and whats in the general vicinity which allows him to sense bandits just before they attack. using magic to keep warm in the cold or to cool down in the heat. confident and willing to go toe to toe with anyone bc he knows that regardless of what they throw at him, he could always win bc he could just use magic.
then somehow someway (post magic reveal) a sorcerer takes away merlin’s magic. or well just locks it away ig. but anyways merlin doesn’t have this part of him anymore and is left feeling empty, exposed, and vulnerable. arthur, the knights, and merlin going on a quest for answers to their problem and a way to get merlins magic back. but. but. but merlin is all jumpy and he’s rambling more than ever and is often reaching out to grab onto someone (usually arthur) and everyone’s confused and then they get ambushed and merlin freezes in the middle of the path like a deer. he’s watching everything go down around him with wide eyes until he’s targeted and one of the knights have to rush in to save him. afterward merlin is constantly holding someone and his grip is rather tight. he keeps looking around, his eyes scanning the trees around them over and over. when they try and settle down for the night, merlin wont leave the camp without an escort or two and when they’re trying to go to sleep, merlin is flinching at every noise in the woods around them and ends up shuffling over toward the person closest to him and laying pressed up against them.
arthur opening his mouth to tease and call him a coward when the word registers in his mind and he realizes that that’s what he’s actually seeing, merlin scared and defenseless. he ofc doesn’t realize the true depth of it all, i mean he knows merlin is missing his magic but he doesn't know that magic has always been a part of merlin, it makes him him. he’s had magic since he was born, he’s never known life without it. as he is now, he feels bare and exposed and blind and deaf and terrified. the knights are his defense rn and for the past few years, merlins been their protector so its a complete reversal of everything he’s ever known. he’s scared. arthur bites his tongue and lets merlin hold onto his arm and snuggle up close at night for some form of comfort and security. he doesn’t tease or mock and responds to his ramblings of fear with a level of gentleness the knights weren’t aware he even possessed. merlin slowly relaxing as arthur subtly comforts him without addressing it
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notherpuppet · 6 months ago
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Which part of your Alastor and Lucifer human comic (I forgot what It's named) is your favorite?
Ahhh I have so much fun with the “My Deer Nanny” AU, it’s hard to pick. Here are some of my fave moments (sorry it’s so disorganized haha)
Charlie meets Alastor 🌈 🦌
EDIT: OMG I FORGOT TO INCLUDE THIS FAVE MOMENT
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Jealous Vox 😜📺
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Lucifer and Alastor’s “hug” 🩸🫂
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Huskerdust meets in Nanny AU 🐈‍⬛🕸️
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Rosie, Alastor, and Lucifer trio 🥀📻🍎
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Mimzy, Alastor, and Lucifer trio 🐥🍎🦌
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Almimzy dancing 💃🏼🕺🏽
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Lucifer dips Alastor 🪩
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Doe-eyed Alastor 🥹🦌
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Link to Masterpost
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kkoct-ik · 6 months ago
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yttdisms now im moved in
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secretidentie · 7 months ago
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*Bruce calling the JL after swapping bodies with Clark* : I have to notify you that superman is inside me
*JL casually* : Yeah, what's new
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