#i need to see fanfiction playing out on screen

[strawberrryangel]

rewatching supernatural isn’t enough i need 3 whole seasons of hurt/comfort with dean and cas fucking nasty

[pepperyduck]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your – gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”

[alyakthedorklord]

Bat Poker Face Training

Dick, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Jason all crammed into someones room, with a kidnapped Duke sitting awkwardly with them, kinda scared.

Duke: “Uh… what’s going on?”

Steph, completely blank faced and standing ominously in the corner: “It has come to our attention that you require training.”

Duke: “Bruce is already teaching me really well-“

Jason, also blank faced: “That’s bat training. This is robin training.”

Cass, carefully but without a single emotion: “Sibling training.”

Dick, face just as blank as all his other siblings: “It’s much more fun.”

Duke, freaked out by the empty faces: “Am I being hazed?”

Jason: “Eh, maybe. Scared?

Tim, not giving Duke a second to reply: “Yes, he is. It’s written all over his face. And while its okay to be scared, sometimes hiding your true emotions in the field is a matter of life, death, and secret identities.”

Dick: “You’re going to be flustered. Humiliated. Terrified. Angry. Relieved. Your vigilante ID dragged through the mud in front of you as a civilian. Someone worried about your civilian ID and you need to keep them away.“

Tim: “Not just as a Bat, but a Wayne. Some dinosaur at a gala is going to say the most out of pocket thing you’ve ever heard in your life and you’ve just got to stand there.”

Duke: “So that’s the reason you’re doing the creepy thing?”

Steph: “Yes Duke. You need to have a poker face that Even Superman can’t break. That even a Fifth-dimensional Imp can’t crack! And that is the purpose of our training tonight!”

Duke, getting the program now: “Okay. I’m ready.”

Jason, allowing a creepy grin to slide over his face: “Don’t be so sure. Because what we are about to show you… it has broken Batman.”

Dick: “Damian is too innocent to see it, which is why he isn’t here.”

Steph: “If you can handle this, you can handle anything.”

Tim, tapping on his computer, chanting under his breath: “the horrors, the horrors, the horrors…”

Duke, terrified of what Tim is about to pull up, on the edge of his seat wondering what on earth can shake the Bat of Gotham, what the family considers too awful for thier arguably LEAST innocent member to see, what vile images he’s about to be shown…

Tap. The screen lights up white.

Duke: “No.”

Jason, grin widening: “We’ll be reading this aloud, for your entertainment.”

Duke, trembling and inching towards the door: “No.”

Steph, vice grip on Duke’s arm: “There’s no escaping it, Signal. This is your mission- to stay completely pokerfaced through Real Person Fanfiction of us- the Batfamily. And co, of course.”

Duke, sobbing: “Please, why… why would you do this to yourselves… oh god, is that… is that… is that Kate with Bruce? She’s a lesbian! And his cousin!”

Steph: “They don’t know that, Duke. They know nothing. And the depths of a human imagination is comparable to the depths of the ocean… there’s some weird shit down there.”

Tim, without a single emotion on his face, least of all mercy: “I had to sit through Young Justice fawning over Dick and Bruce. Do you know what they said? About my own father figure? Right in front of my salad? I was lucky I was wearing a mask. I cried, and I cried in silence. They knew NOTHING, because I showed nothing. This is what you must achieve.”

Jason: “I’ve had to listen to criminals talk about what they’d do to the ‘Prince of Gotham’ and not twitch. I’ve had to listen to both goons and civilians play fuck marry kill with our vigilante identities and not move a muscle. I know this feels like overkill, but trust me, it’s not.”

Dick: “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it mostly PG. Tim? Begin with the wildly out of character and aggressively heteronormative Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman love triangle. Then maybe we’ll work our way up to slash readers and…” shudders in horror, “…batcest.”

Duke: “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

[cybersvoid]

I need to be heard out on something. Imagine a Squid Game AU Fanfiction.

──⇌••⇋──

Imagine your favorite character as the frontman watching over the games. His eyes locked onto the screen as red light greenlight plays on. Players start to run in an attempt to escape, taking down other players with them. Mass panic begins to wash over the crowd, as everyone realizes just how real these games are. Their numbers ring out over the intercom one by one solidifying their death. It's all standard business, the same games, just different people every time. Until his eyes land on you.

Your face is intent. You look unphased by the death surrounding you, but the small beads of sweat starting to form on your forehead tell him that you're more afraid than you're letting on.

"Green Light"

That signal sends you off sprinting forward and weaving in and out of the crowd. Despite your fear, you don't hide behind other players, you confidently stand in front, running with all your strength. Then, quickly you swerve, placing your body in front of someone cowering in the dirt, and moving your hand over your mouth.

"Red Light"

The only thing standing between this person and the doll is you. They're shaking on the ground as you whisper something to them. You are calm and steady, even while talking. Whatever it is you say to them seems to work, because once the words 'Green Light' ring out again, they are locked behind you as the two of you continue to run forward together.

You are either the bravest player he's ever seen or the stupidest he thought to himself. Still, using yourself as a human shield in order to protect this person at least deserved some praise.

For as long as he's been watching the games he knows one thing for sure. With that self-sacrificial habit of yours, you would not make it far on your own. The other players will take your kindness, and exploit it as far as you would allow them to.

"Pull up player 225's file."

On command you file is pulled up on the screen.

Y/N.

The file stated that you are in a large amount of debt due to an ex-partner of yours opening a few bank accounts in your name, and racking up quite the gambling debt. And here you were still playing the hero even when your life was on the line. You really were something else.

"Sir, the first round is almost over," one of the workers spoke up.

He didn't respond, glancing back up at the game to get one last look at you just in time to see you cross the finish line. He gave a small smirk. Maybe while he's down there mingling, and pretending to be one of the players, he could introduce himself.

──⇌••⇋──

I really wanna write this, but I'm not sure what character to use as the frontman in this story. If you guys have any ideas, or wanna see anything specific let me know. I can also do headcanons for individual characters as the frontman instead of writing a whole fic about it, if that's what would be preferred.

I'm also not sure which anime to go with. I could do MHA, or Tokyo Revengers, OR I could stick with an actual character from Squid Game and just add Squid Game to my writing list.

Let me know what you want to see!

[saurongorthaur9]

Potentially unpopular opinion for the ROP fandom:

I really wish people/interviewers would stop pushing the Hot Sauron and Haladriel stuff directly into Charlie's face.

I woke up this morning to drama in the fandom about Charlie (yet again) very politely deflecting Haladriel questions, as if this is some sort of insult to the fandom and shippers. And I know it's not going to stop, but I wish it would.

To make it very explicitly clear, make all the stupid sexy Sauron and Hot Sauron memes and jokes you want within the fandom. Ship Haladriel to your heart's content and create glorious fanfiction and fanart of them making out as they ride into the sunset (or as they simultaneously attempt to kill each other, if that's your vibe). All great. All fantastic. Everyone knows I'm a huge fan of sexy Sauron both inside and outside the ROP fandom, and I am a thorough Haladriel enjoyer at this point.

But I really, really, really wish people would stop pushing it on Charlie himself.

It just makes me so sad and uncomfortable for him. I saw the interview yesterday that I'm pretty sure was what caused everyone to be up in arms where he was being shown Sauron memes and fan posts and a lot of them were very Haladriel/shippy. He is obviously SO uncomfortable with those and the "Hot Sauron" comments. You can see it in the difference between how he answers questions about Sauron's motives or psyche or his research into Tolkien and how his eyes light up and he gets so animated and he just starts gushing vs when he's asked for the millionth time if Sauron has feelings for Galadriel and he gets quiet and reserved and gives a short, diplomatic answer.

And he's been so gracious and polite to the shippers and about all the shipping questions that he keeps getting asked. Each time, he gives basically the same answer: that he doesn't personally see it as romantic but that he's happy people care enough about the characters and story to be passionate about what they see in it. He's not going to suddenly flip a switch and start passionately shipping Haladriel.

I personally like to view it as Sauron (particularly as Halbrand) having some genuine feelings for Galadriel: genuine sense of connection, genuine sense of shared purpose, genuine attraction on both a spiritual and physical level, and yes, even some genuine admiration and love, mixed in with the complex mess of other things Sauron feels, which is why he's a great, complicated villain. The fact that this doesn't 100% line up with everything Charlie has said that he feels about the character is fine with me. I respect Charlie's opinions and the clear thought he's put into portraying that character. But I can also have my own thoughts and perceptions of the character and story apart from that, without needing him to validate them.

I know this isn't the first time an attractive man playing a charming, sexy villain has been inundated by thirsty fans (I remember Loki's Army very clearly) and that some level of it is to be expected. But he's clearly put such thought into portraying Sauron and I'm so grateful to him for that, so I'm sad to see him having uncomfortable questions shoved at him that reduce everything he's done to "what do you think of being Hot Sauron?" and "Do you think Sauron and Galadriel should kiss?" And I'm even sadder to see fans reacting negatively to him simply because he won't validate a particular ship or perspective.

From everything I've heard of fans who have gotten the opportunity to meet him, he's an absolute sweetheart and very kind and appreciative towards his fans. I hope dearly that I can meet him some day and tell him how important it was to me to see Sauron portrayed on screen as such a wonderfully complicated character. But I truly hope that the constant barrage of nagging for him to openly endorse Haladriel and the backlash whenever he gives one of his reserved, diplomatic answers about shipping doesn't sour him to his fanbase. He's given us a gift that I wouldn't have even dared dream of only a few years ago; why can't we focus on that instead of whether or not he's enthusiastically pro-Haladriel or not?

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

skz catching you reading fan fiction

pairing: idol ot8 x reader

wc: ~5.4k

warnings: lots of reader being embarrassed obv. pet names, hyunjin’s is a tiny bit angsty (sorry), a very brief joking mention of dying in seungmin’s

an: some of the fanfictions mentioned in this are mine and have been linked. others i just made up. 💕

masterlist

⋆｡‧˚chan˚‧｡⋆

“Come here. Across my lap, princess.” He ordered.

‘oh this is getting good’ you said quietly to yourself. you were in bed, cuddled up under the covers, the only light coming from the screen of your phone. your eyes flashed across the page quickly, needing to find out what happens next. it had clicked in your brain earlier today that there could quite possibly be fan fiction about your boyfriend floating around on the internet somewhere. you were aware of his fame. but that’s not why you’re with him, even though that’s how you met him. you had been together for a while now, and you cursed yourself for not thinking of this sooner. of course there’s fan fiction about him. and even though it makes you cringe in a way, you couldn’t stop yourself from immediately searching for it as soon as you got home. chan is still at the company, always working the long hours, so you were unsure when he would be home. but you assumed it would be late. so you allowed yourself to get lost in the world of stray kids tumblr. you had read a few already, but this one, this one was spicy. you could feel that familiar throb in between your legs.

“Honey..” He said in a surprised tone. “You’re so wet.” He ran his middle finger up your slit, playing in your wetness. He gently prodded your entrance. You moaned quietly against his thigh. “Only a couple more.” He said, then he spanked you again.

you squeezed your thighs together, briefly thinking of grabbing that buzzing friend from the top drawer of your nightstand. but before you could do so, the bedroom door opens. a tired chan enters, setting his bag down. you let out a gasp and clutch your phone against your chest as he looks up at you, suspicion on his face.

"whatcha doin, baby?" he asks.

"uh.. no-nothing." you stammer back. real smooth.

"why are you hiding your phone from me?" he looks a little concerned now as he sits on the bed next to you. he didn’t want to let himself think that you may be romantically talking to someone else. but he couldnt help it. you could read his feelings all over his face. and as embarrassing as it was, you couldnt bare for him to think you were cheating. it’s best that you just tell him the truth.

"i.. i might have been reading a story.. about you. written by a stay." you say, unable to look at him. you stared at the outlet on the wall across from the end of the bed.

he laughed. "fan fiction?!" he exclaimed, laughing even more. your face turned a bright red. "show me. let me see." he said, reaching for your phone.

you held it tighter to your chest. "no!" you argue, pulling away from him.

"cmon baby. let me seeeee." he whined, reaching for your phone again. you held it out of his reach, so he used his not so secret weapon. he started tickling your sides. you immediately screamed in pained laughter and folded your body in on itself and toward him, trying to detach his hands from your skin. he let go, grabbing the phone, and jumping off the bed. he ran to the corner of the room and you sat up on your knees on the bed. you didn’t move any closer, having realized your defeat.

"Good girl baby, suck daddy’s cock, choke on it, you can do it, take it all, that’s my girl…?" he read aloud. his sentence ending in a question, not having thought that the fan fiction you would be reading would be smut. the tips of his ears turned slightly pink, and you covered your face with your hands before he could look at you. "you’re reading a fan fiction called ‘his good girl, always’?" he asked, slightly stunned. but you could hear the amusement returning to his voice. "what does dom daddy chan mean?"

you groaned. "is this what you fantasize about, baby?" he asked but you couldn’t answer him. "look at me, honey."

you shook your head no, still covering your face with your hands. "i said look at me, princess. cmon, be a good girl." an involuntary whimper escaped your lips at that, and you slowly peeked at him over the tips of your fingers. a smirk was on his face, one dimple poking out, his eyes dark with lust. "let’s finish reading this, yeah?"

⋆｡‧˚minho˚‧｡⋆

“hey min?” you called. an answering grunt came from the other room. “could you pass me my phone? soonie is sleeping on my lap.”

you were sure he heard you. you could hear him get up from his desk and walk to the nightstand to get your phone. but that had been a couple minutes ago. what was taking him so long?

"minho?" you called again. he slowly shuffled into the living room, your phone in his hand, his face pointed at the screen. there was a smirk on his face.

oh shit.

you remembered what you had been doing on your phone last. you were sure you fell asleep earlier with tumblr open to the story you were currently reading. you enjoyed reading fan fiction about your boyfriend, though you never wanted to admit that to him. you felt like you might not have a choice in the matter now. you had been caught. he stopped a few feet away from you, still scrolling, his eyes moving back and forth as he read. the smirk on his face only grew as he continued to skim the page.

"min, give me my phone please." you said quietly. he held a finger up, shushing you.

"My cock drunk little slut, takes my cock so good." he read from the screen. "is this what you’re always reading on your phone?" minho asked, finally looking up at you.

you buried your head in your hands, scaring the cat off you lap. "i didn’t know you liked to read fan fiction about me. you have the real me, you know?" he said. "why am i always calling the reader kitten? is that a thing that stay thinks i like?"

you groaned. you could feel him come closer, until he was standing right in front of you. he dropped your phone onto the couch next to you, you could feel it bounce on the cushion. "hello?" he asked. you still couldn’t look at him. your face burned with embarrassment. your whole body burned with embarrassment. he wrapped his hands gently around your wrists and tugged. you let him pull your hands away from your face. he let go of your wrists and then used his fingers to tilt your chin up, so you were facing him. he was grinning, and you couldn’t help but notice the veins running up and down his arms. his arms never failed to make you a mess for him. "is that what you want? for me to call you kitten?" you tried to look away from him, but his grip tightened on your chin. "ah ah." he scolded. "answer me."

"i- it’s- um.. it’s something that i’ve thought about.." you admit. his thumb moved to gently stroke your cheek.

"you should have just told me that." he says, sweetly. "you want me to manhandle you too, like in that story? want me to use toys and eat my cum from your pussy?" his thumb has made its way to your lips now. gently rubbing back and forth before pressing into your mouth. you wrapped your lips around the digit, running your tongue around it.

"mmhmm" you mumbled around his finger.

"i think that can be arranged.. kitten." he purred.

⋆｡‧˚changbin˚‧｡⋆

you were sat in the corner of the room, butt on this hard ass wooden bench, swallowed by your boyfriends hoodie, face buried in your phone. changbin had begged for you to go to the gym with him today, and so you agreed. he’s so cute when he pouts and puffs his little cheeks out. but you had no intention of working out with him. you just said you would come. so he’s working out while you watch from the sidelines. and oh boy you could watch him work out for hours. he was currently doing the bench press? bench pressing? he was laying down on the bench thingy and pushing up on the bar thingy with the heavy thingies on the ends. chan was spotting him but changbin didn’t need it. he was all sweaty and yummy. so buff. were you drooling? see this is why you were looking so intently at your phone. if you watched him work out for too long, you got all soft and gooey and you didn’t want that. but looking at your phone wasn’t helping either. in fact, tumblr may be making your situation worse. but you couldn’t look away. not when there was a detailed fan fiction in front of you about your boyfriend. you were just reading it at first because it interested you. you know, for science. did they describe him correctly? did they get his size right? you were surprised to find out that the stories were actually pretty accurate. so then you kept reading. and now your 8 thousand words deep in a slow burn smut fic about him and you just so happened to get to the good part while you were in the gym with him. fuck. your body started getting hot. you stretched and removed your hoodie from your body. you kept scrolling, the content getting spicier and spicier. he was doing what with his tongue? holy shit why hasn’t he ever done that to you in real life?

"are you hot baby?" his voice pulled you from your fantasy land and startled a jump out of you.

"ah!" you exclaimed. you held your phone close to your chest, your cheeks burning up and flushing red. he was standing in front of you, sweaty. his black muscle shirt sticking to his body. he wiped the sweat from his face with a small white towel. your mouth filled with saliva at the sight of him. you forcibly swallowed before answering him. "uh.. yeah i got a little warm." you tell him.

"are you okay? you seem a little flustered." he sits down next to you on the bench. he chuckles to himself. "you know, you’re acting like you usually do when i’m teasing you."

your face and body were on fire. you looked down at the floor, at the wall, anywhere but at changbin. your silence must have been loud.

"baby?" he reaches for your arm. you flinch at the contact, not out of fear, but out of desire. you were in the gym and you were so embarrassed. you couldn’t have him touch you at all, not even on the arm. your phone clattered to the floor, having lost your grip when you flinched. you immediately reached for it, but changbin beat you to it. and of course, just your luck, he glances at the screen as he hands it back to you. "what’s this baby? what’re you reading?" he skims the page some more. "those are some naughty words.." he says, quieter this time. you try to take the phone from him but he moves it out of your reach, continuing to read. "this is about me?" he says a little too loud.

"bin, give me my phone back please." you say, reaching for it. he hands it over.

"sure baby. i didn’t know you liked to read fan fiction about me." he was smirking at you. clearly poking fun. "and it was dirty fan fiction too. baby. i didn’t know you were so naughty." he chuckles.

"binnie.. please don’t. i’m flustered enough as it is."

"was the story that good?" he asks, serious now.

you nod. "it’s pretty good, yeah. and we’re here in the gym and you’re all sweaty and muscly and i’m about to loose it, bin."

he outright laughs now. "okay baby. let’s get you home and you can tell me about your story." he stands and takes your hand, leading you out to the car.

⋆｡‧˚hyunjin˚‧｡⋆

"You are so beautiful, baby.” He said, stroking your cheek. “Such a pretty girl, about to suck her daddys cock.” You could feel your panties getting wet. “Open.” He ordered.

you absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, trying to get any friction you could, so absorbed in the story you currently had open. you were in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, your elbows on the countertop. you eyes were glued to the screen. you were in the kitchen to make some dinner. you were hungry and you knew hyunjin would be home soon and probably would want something to eat as well. but now your hunger for food was long forgotten as a hunger for something else took over your mind. you didn’t even hear hyunjin put his key in the lock and open the door. he kicked his shoes off and dropped his bag, but you had no idea. one hand was against your mouth, the other hand had a death grip on your phone, thumb scrolling away at the text. hyunjin approached from behind, a little entertained that you hadn’t noticed him, and curious about what has you so focused. he peeks over your shoulder to glance at your phone.

The image of him above you may as well have been holy. It was holy to you. He was a god, and you worshipped him as such. “Fuuuck, baby.” He moaned, breathlessly.

he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, scaring the daylights out of you. you jumped, dropping your phone, it clatters noisily onto the counter.

"what are you reading, angel?" he asks softly against your neck. he places a small kiss there.

"nothing." you lie quickly.

"didn’t seem like nothing." he hummed against your skin. "seemed kinda dirty. can i see?" he reaches around you for your phone and you don’t stop him. you know that you will never win an argument against hwang hyunjin. his long fingers close around the device, and he stands straight as he brings it to his face to look. you straighten as well, but you don’t turn to face him. you don’t want to see the look on his face when he sees what you’ve been reading.

"are you reading smut about me?" he asks. when you don’t answer, out of embarrassment, he gently grabs your shoulder and turns you around. "is this fan fiction?" you slowly nod your head, not looking at him, trying to understand his tone. he sounded upset.

"are you unhappy with our relationship?" he asks. that startles you to attention. you look up at him, his eyes filled with sadness.

"what? no, jinnie. absolutely not."

"then why are you reading this, if not to get something that you crave?" he argues. "am i not fulfilling your needs?"

"no. you are. i just—"

"i don’t understand why you would need to read this, unless you’re unhappy with me." he cuts you off. "especially smut. if i’m not satisfying you sexually, then we need to talk about that."

"that’s not it." you tell him. "i started reading it while you were away on tour because i missed you so badly. and some of it is actually.. good. so now, when i miss you and want to picture different scenarios about you, i’ll read some. i promise it has nothing to do with our relationship. it’s just fun to read what stay writes about you. and that one i was reading just now.. is pretty hot.." your cheeks flush. "i was actually going to bring it up with you to see if maybe you wanted to try something like that.." you look down at your hands, twirling your fingers together.

"you promise? if there’s something wrong, i can’t fix it unless you tell me about it." he says, holding you by the shoulders.

"i promise."

he’s smiling down at you now. "well then i guess let’s see what you’ve been reading. i saw you rubbing your thighs together, it must have been good to get you all hot and bothered like that." he starts reading the screen again. his smile grew the more he read. "so.. the part that you like.. is it the face fucking? or the daddy/princess dynamics?" he asks, seriously. but you feel it straight in your core. your panties sticking to your skin.

"i kinda like all of it.." you say quietly.

he sets the phone back down on the counter and brings his hand up to stroke your cheek. you noticed he was still a little sweaty from practice, and that only made you wetter. he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your mouth, his lips so plump and soft. he pulls away only an inch or so and then says against your lips, "well then get on your knees, princess."

⋆｡‧˚jisung‧｡⋆

"hey sungie, could you grab my phone?" you ask, just getting out of the shower, wrapping the towel around your torso and reaching for your comb.

"sure." he pauses whatever game he was playing and gets up to retrieve your phone from the bed for you. when he grabs it, he looks at the text filled screen. it only takes a moment for him to read the words.

‘that’s it baby, you like it when i ride your cock like this?’ ‘yes mommy.’

he felt his cock twitch in his pants, and his ears flame with heat at the same time. he drops the phone back on the bed and turns around and leaves the room immediately without saying anything to you.

"sungie?" you look after him, worriedly. you drop your comb and follow him into the living room. he’s pacing back and forth in front of the couch, biting on his thumb nail. "what’s wrong?" you ask. he doesn’t answer you. he just keeps pacing back and forth. you wonder what the heck has gotten into him. you return to your bedroom and grab your phone from where it was laying on the cover. you look at the screen. that fan fiction you had been reading was still open. oh no. was he freaked out that you were reading this? you’d never told him about it because you thought it might freak him out, and maybe you were right. you returned to the living room. han was sitting on the edge of the couch now, a blank stare on his face, his mind a million miles away.

"did you read what was on my phone?" you ask him.

he looks up at you, startled. "uh yeah, i did. i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to read it, it was just open and a couple words jumped out at me and i couldn’t help but read them but i promise i wasn’t trying to spy on you or anything it was an accident, i-" he was rambling.

"sungie, it’s okay." you cut him off. i don’t mind that you looked at it. i have nothing to hide. especially from you." you smile at him.

he looks back down at his hands, silent yet again.

"did you want to talk about it?" you asked. "do you have any questions?" you walked over and sat next to him on the couch. he leaned back, throwing his head over the back of the couch dramatically, his eyes shut. you noticed his hands were covering the tent in his pants. so he must have liked what he read you thought.

"it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now. i can go back to the bathroom and we can talk about it after you’ve had time to think." you move to stand from the couch but han grabs your wrist. you look at him, his eyes wide.

"you were reading fan fiction about me?" he asked quietly. you nodded at him. "and you like to read that stuff?"

"i do." you answer him. "is that okay with you?"

he nods slowly, still thinking pretty hard about something.

"what do you like about them?" he asks.

"i just like to imagine different scenarios about you. especially when you’re gone on tour and i miss you. but i must admit, i’m pretty partial to subby jisung." you tell him, smirking. you loved to tease him. his face flushed a bright pink at your words.

"what’s subby jisung like?"

"well," you start, placing your hand on his thigh. "subby jisung is very needy, and whiny. he just can’t help it, he wants the reader so bad."

he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to adjust his pants discreetly, but he fails.

"do you like the thought of that?" you tease. "did you like what you saw? the reader in that story was riding subby jisung as he begged. is that what’s got you hard?"

he shook his head no.

"then what was it?" you ask. he removes his hands from his front, fully exposing his erection to you, only hidden by his sweatpants. he makes grabby hands at you, and you smile. you stand up from the couch and drop your towel to the floor, fully naked in front of him. "what do you want, sungie? what did you read that you liked so much?"

"mommy.." he said quietly.

"what was that?" you say, teasing him some more. you loved it when he got like this. all soft and shy. you leaned down and grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants, clinging tightly to his small waist. you tugged them down and off him completely, his cock standing at attention.

"mommy.." he said a little louder. "please.."

"please what?"

"ride me, mommy. please." he begged. and how could you say no to that?

⋆｡‧˚felix‧｡⋆

you were both on the couch, facing each other, your legs tangled together. felix was playing a game on his switch and you were scrolling tumblr. it didn’t take long after you found the fic for you to start rubbing your thighs together. you “accidentally” brushed your foot against felix’s pants.

“hey angel, be careful where you’re kicking.” he giggles, never taking his eyes off the screen.

“sorry lixie.” you say softly, trying to hide the neediness in your voice. apparently you failed, because felix put his game down and looked up at you.

“what’s the matter, flower?”

you just shake your head no, still staring down at your phone.

“did you watch that maniac fan cam of me again? baby i know you like the ending fairy but im literally sitting right here. i couldn’t even perform because i was injured.”

that makes you smile a little. you do really love that performance. it’s his smile at the end. but no, you were wet from something else this time. “no, that’s not it.” you tell him.

“then what?”

you just shyly hold out your phone to him. he gently takes it from you and skims the words on the screen quickly. “oh. fan fiction? i’ve read this one actually. it’s pretty good but i wouldn’t say it’s my favorite one.”

you look at him, shocked. “you’ve read that one?”

“yeah i think changbin and i read this one together actually.” he laughs. “i try to stay away from the smut, because it’s a little weird to read that about yourself you know? but occasionally one will pop up and i’ll look it over.” he hands the phone back to you.

“pop up? pop up where?” you’re still shocked, mouth hanging open.

“on my tumblr.” he says matter of factly. “my favorite ones are the fake text ones. the unhinged ones where im sending funny memes.” he’s laughing again and you’re just looking at him. his beautiful face and you’re just in awe of him. of course this man would read his own fan fiction. he’s chronically online. “so.. are you going to tell me what you read that got you all bothered?”

“uh.. i just thought it was hot.. you know?” you say quietly, unable to meet his gaze.

“you like the thought of sucking me off while im playing games online? isn’t that what that one is about?”

you nod slowly.

“you just like the idea of sucking me off? or is it the thought of han or jeongin hearing you on the other side?”

you groan, grinding your hips into nothing. “lixie..” you whine.

“what, angel? i’m just trying to understand you.” he teases. he moves to climb on top of you, your back against the couch cushions, him hovering above you, caging your head with his arms. “do you want to talk about it some more?” he leans in closer. “or do you want to maybe act out your favorite fan fiction with me?” he places a gentle kiss on your lips and you’re lost. nothing exists but him.

⋆｡‧˚seungmin˚‧｡⋆

what choices had you made in life to bring you to this point? alone, in bed, one hand in your pants and the other hand gripping your phone, tumblr open. your favorite seungmin fic filling the screen. you had started reading fan fiction about him, and you weren’t proud of it. you just wanted him so badly. and if you were going to fantasize about him, might as well have some help from the internet, right? maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better. you had known seungmin for a little while now. you have had a crush on him for just as long. it might even be more than a crush if you’re being honest with yourself. ever since you moved into the dorms, you’ve had some huge heart eyes for the guy. but he’s so intimidating. you were scared to ever talk to him. so here you were, hand down your pants, alone at the dorms, moaning his name.

“fuck. seungmin. yes.” you moan to yourself. maybe you were being a little too loud. but you didn’t care. no one was home, and it felt too good. your fingers making sloppy wet sounds as you pumped them in and out. the mental image of him above you had you right on the edge of release. when suddenly.. there’s a knock on the door.

shit.

what the fuck do you do in this situation? you yanked your hand out of your pants so fast, and pulled the blanket up over your head like there was someone actually in the room with you to hide from. you held your breath. trying to be as quiet as possible. after a minute or two, there it was again, the knocking.

“i know you’re in there.” he said. seungmin. you would know his voice anywhere. you’ve been obsessed with it for months now. “are you decent? i’m coming in.” he warns. and before you have time to panic about that, the door cracks open and seungmin sticks his beautiful head inside. he looks around and sees that your hiding under the covers. he walks in and sits on the edge of the bed.

“so.” he starts. “i think we should probably talk about that.” he pokes at what he thinks is your leg, but he can’t be sure. you’re just a pile of blankets. you pull the blanket down to reveal your face, bright red cheeks and watery eyes.

you look at him, but he’s not looking at you. he’s staring at your phone, which is laying on top of the covers, still on and open to tumblr.

“is that my name on the screen?” he asks, emotionless. you couldn’t tell if he was mad or disgusted or intrigued. he pointed at your phone with his index finger.

“i can explain.” you say.

“no need.” he looks into your eyes now. “you’re obviously reading fan fiction about me while you touch yourself. what else is there to explain?”

you seriously wanted to crawl into a hole and die. you prayed for the earth to swallow you up in that moment. where was the alien invasion when you needed it? “i— i guess you’re right..” you mumble. “there nothing else to explain.” you look up at the ceiling, tears pricking your eyes. “i’m sorry.” you tell him.

“don’t be sorry. i quite enjoyed hearing your moans from outside the door. what a thing to come home to.” he smiles his teasing smile at you and in that moment you’re glad that you’re in bed and not standing, because your legs turned to jello.

“i didn’t know my roomie was such a slut for me.” he says, reaching for the blanket. “my little slut.”

⋆｡‧˚jeongin˚‧｡⋆

god, your boyfriend had beautiful hands. you had this thought every day, multiple times a day. but you could never say anything to him. you were way too shy for that. and wouldn’t that be weird? ‘hey, innie i think you’re hands are really sexy.’? you were embarrassed just thinking about it. so you kept it to yourself. suffered in silence, drooling over his hands. you had recently turned to tumblr to fulfill your jeongin hand needs. and that was working out fine for a little while. but now, sat on the couch next to him, it’s like his hands are sending out a signal. a loud blaring siren that says hey! here we are! look at us!

the way he’s holding his phone, the muscles flexing as he uses his thumb to scroll instagram. your mind was immediately filled with dirty thoughts. so against your better judgement, you opened tumblr and continued reading. was it dangerous to read this while sitting so close to him? sure. but you couldn’t just excuse yourself to the other room without him having questions. so it’s either this, or just openly stare at his hands until he notices. what you didn’t anticipate however, was him putting his hand on your bare thigh, slowly rubbing your leg up and down, lovingly. he was doing it absentmindedly, ghosting his fingertips across your skin as he scrolled. you were sure your panties and your pajama shorts were probably soaked through at this point.

you forced your eyes back to the screen, but it only made things worse. in the real world, he’s gently rubbing your leg. in tumblr world, he’s wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing. you accidentally let out a whimper, squirming in your seat. his hand stilled on your leg as he looked up at you. you dropped your phone onto your lap, and covered your face, mortified.

he laughs at you. “you’re adorable. why’re you hiding?” he reaches to try to pry your hands from your face. his fingers wrapping around your wrist send a shiver through your body, straight to your core.

“are those my hands?” he asks, chuckling nervously. you peek in between your fingers and see that your phone was displaying a rather large close up of his hands. somehow, the story you were reading had scrolled all the way back up to the top. there was the title of the story, and a picture of his hands. well fuck.

“i— uh-.” you stammer.

he holds his hands out in front of his face, turning them over and examining them. “what’s so special about them?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. “you must really like them if you’re reading fan fiction about them.” he laughs. “but i’m right here. you have the real thing on the same couch as you. why read about it?” he asks.

your face is bright pink. “i was embarrassed..” you admit softly.

“embarrassed? how long have you been thinking about this?”

you kind of shrug as an answer, meaning it’s been a while. he reaches for your phone, and before you can stop him, he’s scrolling. “choking?” he looks up at you. “is that what you want, baby? for me to wrap my hands around your pretty little throat?” your eyes went wide and you swallowed hard. “aren’t you going to answer me?” he teases. “i bet my big hand would fit almost all the way around..” in one swift motion, he wraps his hand around your ankle and tugs, forcing you onto your back, him kneeling in between your legs. he leans over you, his breath against your cheek, his hand slowly sliding up your chest, his index finger playing with the little dip at the base of your throat.

“i’ll put this hand here..” he says, wrapping it around your throat but applying no pressure. “and i’ll put this one here.” his other hand finds your soaked pajama shorts. “already prepped, baby.” he places a soft kiss against your lips before sliding his hand into your panties, his middle finger finding your hole. “let’s see how long you can last.”

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[copdog1234]

Man, I was watching the movie and the entire time I was thinking "Wow. This would've been so much more satisfying in the show" because the show has earned it. The show's writing is far from perfect, it has many, many flaws, but my god is it far better than Miraculous Awakening will ever be. And I'll tell you why.

I will preface by saying, yes, an hour and a half movie has way less time than a TV show with several episodes to build up characters and relationships, so time constraints will make it so we may not get as much depth in the on-screen relationships.

You know what, though? The time they spent playing mediocre songs could've been used better to show us all the things the songs had to outright tell us. Cause that was the problem.

The movie sure liked telling us how the characters were feeling. It rarely showed it. Like could you tell me why movie Marinette liked Adrien? Because I couldn't. What did he do to earn her affection beside look pretty? Why did we only get a montage of them getting closer instead of actually seeing it? Or how we never really see much of Gabriel and Adrien's struggles with the loss of Emilie, we simply get glimpses. How am I supposed to feel anything when Gabriel stops being Hawk Moth when this movie showed us literally nothing of their strained relationship? And then there's Gabriel's claim that he did absolutely everything to get Emilie back. No he didn't. He did actually nothing. He freed a couple of criminals and then akumatized himself. That's it. That's all he did.

Could you tell me why Alya decided to befriend Marinette? Could you tell me why Adrien "who decided not to get close to anyone" was friends with Nino? Could you tell me why Chloe was so confident Adrien had any interest in her when they never actually interacted?

And then there wasnt enough explanation on how anything that we should've been told worked. Could anyone really tell me how these versions of the miraculous work? Or why Master Fu was in possession of them? Or why they really chose their holders? Could you tell me if the kwami had much personality and were necessary?

Like, I will say, there were funny moments, the animation was nice, and there were cool set pieces, but where was the substance?? It was nonexistent. If you don't watch the show, would you know or feel anything for what was going on in this movie?

Cause even for me, who does watch the show, I didn't.

Think about this. The show has even faked out multiple reveals to me and every time I was hyped and screaming, I have read fanfiction of these same to characters falling in love and confessing every which way and I've swooned, but we get reveals and love confessions that are real and permanent in this movie and I felt. Nothing.

It's okay if yall disagree with me, but I just needed to get this off my chest. I'm hard on this movie because I wanted it to be good because I love the characters and story from the show.

[fushiglow]

10 things I've learned about being a fanfic author over the last year

At the time of writing this post, I have been writing and sharing fanfiction for Jujutsu Kaisen for almost two years. This time last year, my in-progress longfic, Over the Threshold, started to gain popularity and, over the last twelve months, I think it's fair to say I have become somewhat of a BNF in the SatoSugu community... Sigh...

While every creative wants their work to be seen, there is a threshold (ha) past which visibility brings difficulties, and unfortunately I went over it (ha) in recent months. It has changed my fandom experience significantly, and not entirely for the better. While there have been friendships for life forged, beautiful memories I'll carry with me for the rest of my life, and more kind words and fanart than I can shake a stick at, there have also been opportunists, naysayers, and even outright bullies.

Seeing your name thrown around in fandom spaces with little regard for the real person behind the writing — for your character, for your circumstances, for your creative liberty — does force you to re-evaluate your relationship with your work and your audience. With that in mind, I thought I'd share the lessons I've taken from the last year as a fanfic author.

I really hope this serves as advice for any fanfic authors seeking more visibility on their work, and also generally encourages more thoughtful engagement with fandom creators. Let's go!

1. Writing for anyone except yourself is still a bad idea

That doesn't mean it isn't sometimes worth taking reader preferences into account. It's just about knowing when to disregard them. We write fanfiction for lots of different reasons that vary from fic to fic. Sometimes, making other people happy is a good enough reason to write a fic, as long as that's what you set out to do and you're under no illusions about that.

However, letting reader expectations creep into your approach to your other work in a way that doesn't serve your personal creative vision is a bad idea, especially because...

2. People disrespect fanfic authors even more than you thought

There are plenty of kind, supportive people in fandom. However, the unfortunate truth is they are vastly outnumbered by people who will gobble up your work without even taking a moment to say thank you for the meal and who will, in fact, demand more from you instead.

Trying to please entitled people who are impossible to satisfy, who bring nothing of value to your fandom experience, and who may even resort to bullying if you don't play by their ever changing rulebook is a pointless endeavour — so don't bother!

3. Your writing process is a constant work in progress

Because you are a constant work in progress. You can't always expect something that worked for you a year ago to work the same now. There are too many variables in play, not least your skill as a writer. If the stabilisers you put on last year are no longer helping, maybe it's a sign you don't need them anymore. Maybe it's time to take them off and try something new.

I am still planning a more in depth writing process post, but the simple truth is, my writing process can be summed up as...

4. Whatever works!

My main piece of advice when it comes to writing is always going to be, "at some point, you've just got to do it". Sure, there are tools and techniques you can use to aid the process, but ultimately it always comes down to you and the words.

There's no right or wrong way to write, and there's no point comparing your process to someone else's, because ultimately you'll do whatever works for you. Whether you're someone who religiously practises a warm-up routine before sitting down to write or someone who stares at the screen for two months straight before vomiting up a masterpiece whole (or someone like me who jumbles their way through with a slightly different approach every time), it's all good as long as it ends with words on paper.

5. Writing for an audience changes the game

For better and for worse! Having an engaged readership on a WIP has, on occasion, created unique and invaluable opportunities to elevate my work beyond what would have been possible by myself. I'm very grateful for the artist-audience dialogue that I know we all crave when sharing our work with the world but aren't always fortunate enough to experience.

However, being aware of your audience while writing also influences your approach in unhelpful ways, no matter how much you try to get around it. Ensuring that I maintain control of that dialogue (or, at the very least, a 50/50 back and forth) requires constant vigilance.

6. Community is a double edged sword

I think everyone in fandom is seeking community of one kind or another. Building a dedicated community around my writing and seeing real good come of it was an unexpected by-product of sharing my fic with the world, but a deeply rewarding one. However, communities aren't static and they require a collaborative effort to maintain.

Series come to an end, fandom trends shift, people move on. On the flipside, you build something so wonderful that others want to share in its benefits without contributing in meaningful ways. Seeing a community so closely tied to your work and your sense of self shift into something unrecognisable until you start to feel like a stranger in your own space is very hard. Furthermore, managing a community in a dedicated forum takes significant time and energy which could be spent writing, which is why...

7. The most successful fanfic authors are selfish

What I mean by "successful" is up to you. However, whether it's replying to comments, supporting fellow creatives in the fandom, or even tagging work for discoverability, some authors disregard anything that prevents them from getting words onto the page. Some people are here to post their shit and leave — and more power to them.

The more of yourself you offer, the more people come to expect until, eventually, the already generous act of writing thousands of words for your fandom becomes the bare minimum. This is often where the topic of "fandom etiquette" comes up, but fanfic authors are already taking on a disproportionate share of the burden simply by sharing their work in the first place. Anything beyond that is a courtesy we are not obligated to extend. We should thank authors who thoughtfully choose to extend those courtesies anyway, rather than vilifying them when they don't.

8. Guarding your enjoyment is paramount

If, like me, you're an author who does enjoy being an active member of the fandom community, then it's important to watch out for the myriad of things that can come between you and your stories. Fandom politics, or even just fandom trends, can have a huge influence on your relationship with the characters that originally inspired you.

However, what other people are doing with them doesn't need to have any bearing on what you choose to do with them if you don't want it to. Responding to fandom trends in your writing can be satisfying, but maintaining a degree of separation between wider fandom and the stories that really matter to you is crucial, I think. That being said...

9. Collaboration feeds creativity

Some beautiful moments have been born from throwing an idea back and forth with my fellow fans. Simple things can rapidly snowball into territory you would never usually set foot in, and expanding your creative horizons like that can only ever be a good thing! Being open with your ideas in fandom spaces is always a bit of a worry, but the reward for extending that trust far outweighs the risk in my experience.

Additionally, I think we get caught up in the idea of absolute originality, but if you're active in fandom, you're always taking inspiration from your fellow creatives. Freely crediting the people who have inspired me has only ever brought wonderful things my way, and I've even gone on to develop collaborative relationships with some of them. Fandom is more fun with other people!

10. But ultimately, writing is lonely work

No matter how many friendships you forge, you still have to retreat into solitude to write the damn story eventually. Writing doesn't lend itself to active human connection as much as art or music. You can chat to someone while drawing or play an instrument alongside another person, but when you're writing, you have to go it alone.

And the worst part? Even when you eventually share your story with the world, no one will ever care about it as much as you do. Writing is such a deeply lonely experience most of the time, I think — which is why it's so important to hold onto all the things that make it worthwhile.

And that's that! I have been stewing on all of these thoughts privately, but I wanted to share them in case they're of value to someone. I tried to keep it as measured as possible, but I acknowledge that I'm in a bit of a bitter headspace about fandom in light of the Discourse TM and subsequent harassment over Christmas.

I don't think it will stop me writing stories for this fandom, but I do think it will make me more guarded in my interactions with the wider community, and I think that's a shame. I joined this fandom as a fan first and a creator second, and I'm deeply sad to feel like some of the parts I used to enjoy most are no longer accessible to me.

This experience has certainly got me thinking more critically about the trend of fandom creators seemingly becoming more distant as they gain popularity. The word "arrogant" is often thrown around, but I think it's much more likely that taking a less active role in fandom spaces isn't as much a choice as it is a necessary measure for the sake of wellbeing and even safety.

Fascinating in a sort of sick way.

[hom3landr]

Writer’s Block

18+

In which Homelander thoroughly enjoys a quiet night in, his hand, and some ao3.

CW: Selfcest adjacent, Anal play, Masturbation,

“His hand wraps firmly around your throat as he bends you over your desk with a low groan. The hard bulge in his costume grinds against your ass and each filthy thrust causes your hips to bump painfully against the wooden edge. The various knick knacks and office supplies decorating your space rattle with the movement. His hot breath causes you to moan as he whispers into your ear.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Homelander groans low in his throat as he strokes his cock languidly. The leather of the couch that was cool at first is now growing warm from the heat of his body. His cock twitches in his hand and a drop of precum drips down his knuckles onto the cushion. He’s taking it slow tonight. He intends to draw out his pleasure now that he finally has the entire space to himself for the night.

Now that he has a son to raise, he’s had to stop being so bold about where and when he decides to take a load off and relax. Luckily he was able to pawn Ryan off on Victoria and Zoe for a sleepover. Vicky wasn’t happy about the surprise but he isn’t sure why. His son is a fucking delight. He plans to make the most of his free time as he reclines lazily and uses the remote in his free hand to scroll through the fanfiction on the screen.

He had found the stories maudlin and pathetic at first when he first stumbled onto the online community dedicated to writing about him. They made him laugh at how desperate and pathetic they were. Even the ego boost wasn’t enough to erase the disdain towards the nobodies of the world who deigned to think that he would ever want to fuck them. He’s so pristine in the stories. A white knight handsome savior to sweep them away from their problems. If only they knew the real him and not the puppet Vought made him into.

But that was when he had Stormfront on his arm. A perfect goddess to chase away the pangs of loneliness and who any ordinary mud person would pale in comparison to. When he lost her, he began to see the value in such pathetic fantasies. As he lost more and more control over his surroundings, it was comforting to disappear into this place where the world still revolved around him and he could see proof of devotion that wasn’t just the steadily dropping points tacked to his name.

People still wanted him.

And sure, things might be looking up for him now. He’s head of Vought and he finally has his beloved son by his side. He has an army of mindless fans ready to fight for him. But his bed is still cold and a man has needs. There’s an earnest quality to the writing that scratches an itch that isn’t satisfied by the subpar porn Vought churns out. This is personal.

He grips his cock a little firmer and he twitches as he runs his thumb over his sensitive slit. He continues to read.

“He can smell your arousal. It coats the back of his throat and he can taste it on the roof of his mouth.”

Homelander unconsciously licks his lips. It’s not hard for him to conjure up the smell of sex in his mind. His own pleasure is already heady in his own nose. He whines and brings two fingers up to his lips and sucks. The salty tang of his own slick is filthy and his whole body throbs. His hipbones ache as he imagines what it would be like to be bent over, to lose himself to pleasure completely, to have all the worries and concerns knocked out of his brain. He can understand why this fantasy would appeal to someone so insignificant as the author. It’s not a perspective that he would normally ever indulge in but there’s something so tempting about it.

“You struggle to catch your breath and muster any kind of defense as he continues to take up more of your space. One hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, cutting off your airflow even further. He can hear you clench around nothing and a smug smile spreads across his face.”

Still sucking on his fingers, his other hand drops the remote and wraps itself around his neck. He presses down cautiously and the restriction of his own airflow causes a wave of heat to flow through his veins. He bucks up into nothing with a low grunt.

“He presses hot and hungry kisses against your jaw as his free hand grabs the waistband of your work trousers and tugs. The fabric rips easily and you can’t even gasp in surprise as his fingers delve under your underwear to press against your hole.”

Homelander follows suit, taking his spit slick fingers out of his mouth and reaching down to tease around his rim. He gasps, sensitive. He’s no stranger to touching himself here but it’s like a shock every time just how nice it feels. He wonders what the inbred brain dead hicks who worship him would think if they knew their fearless hero liked a little ass play. Would they still grovel? Would they keep him on his pedestal? He laughs bitterly at the irony of his power over people still being reliant on fitting into the narrow insipid boxes they feel like putting him in. He has everything he’s always wanted but he’s still fucking trapped.

Tears prick at his eyes. He’d started this just wanting to feel good but now his stomach is uneasy and his erection is already starting to flag. Even alone, he can’t escape people’s expectations of him. He removes the hand from his throat and wipes at his eyes, self loathing building tight in his chest at how pathetic he is. He can’t even get himself off properly and now he’s crying over it. He grabs the remote and goes to turn off the screen in self pity but his eyes catch the next words.

“Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the intensity of the situation. Everything is happening so fast and so much.

“Shhhhh” He whispers in your ear. “You might as well just let it happen. Let yourself feel good. It’s not like you have a choice.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can hear his own voice echoing in his head. It’s familiar and he follows where it leads. He brushes reality aside as he allows himself to sink back into the fantasy. He thinks about the ache in his hipbones and a body pressing him down and forcing him to relax. He puts his hand back on his throat, this time pressing harder until it borders on the hint of pain as his head swims. Idly he wonders where this written version of himself came from. How one measly author amidst the rush of saccharine romances managed to capture this raw real side of him.

He opens his eyes and squints so the world is a little fuzzy. The words on the screen blur but are still readable and as long as he has those he can block anything else out.

“Your body goes limp against the desk, becoming little more than a doll for him to play with. He dips his fingers into you, stretching you just enough to make you gasp before pulling back. He’s gentle but inescapable and there’s nothing that you can do except succumb to his touches. You moan pathetically as he finally takes pity on you, two deft fingers finally pressing in fully as they twist and curl until they find the spot that makes your legs tremble and shake.”

He whimpers as his fingers delve inside. It’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to do this and he’s tight. He huffs and he can feel the bobbing of his adam’s apple against his hand. He can’t move yet as he focuses on relaxing his muscles until he’s no longer at risk of pushing his fingers right back out. The stretch feels good and his cock quickly swells back to its previous hardness. He’s torn between reaching down to stroke himself or staying put and following along with the whims of the story. He crooks his fingers slightly and a strangled yelp leaves his lips as lightning shoots up and down his spine.

“Touch yourself.” Homelander instructs as he continues to scissor his fingers and stretch you out properly. “C’mon, don’t make me do all the work.”

Homelander wastes no time. He’s eager now that he has permission. He wishes that there was a way to keep the pressure on his neck but he’ll have to think of something for next time. His cock throbs under his palm as he begins to stroke himself. The room fills with eager wet sounds and it allows him to sink deeper into the fantasy. He reads on, eager to know what he’ll do next. It baffles him why anyone would want to leave him now that he knows how good being with him feels.

He’d had an opportunity before, with Doppelganger. But it was wrong. It wasn’t him. It was just a pathetic needy imitation. So ready to please that it reeked of desperation. He’d seen something in “his” face that day that turned his stomach. He’d needed it gone.

This is different. This fictional version of him is perfect, strong, determined, and willing to just take what he wants. He’s perfect, like marble.

Homelander moans echo through the penthouse, filling up all the open space and desecrating the ears of the founding fathers. He has no need to be shy now that he has the place to himself again for the night. His cock is leaking all over his hand and dripping down onto the leather. The wet sloppy sounds of him working himself over are practically deafening to his sensitive hearing.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Doesn’t it feel good to take some initiative. It’s a good thing the rest of the tower doesn’t have my hearing.” He goes quiet for a moment, allowing the sloppy sounds to echo through the empty room. “You would not believe some of the things I’ve heard go on around here. For example, do you remember fucking yourself in the bathroom after I surprised you in the elevator the other day?”

A wave of shame and panic floods through you as the memory of the elevator comes back to you. You were too flustered to say anything then. You had been surprised that he would bother with an elevator at all. The masculine vetiver scent of his cologne was subtle but in the confined space it seemed almost suffocating. You hadn’t said anything and he didn’t bother to even acknowledge your presence. He didn’t even look your way. Still, the strange intensity of the encounter had you running into the empty bathroom to relieve some stress. You wouldn’t have been able to concentrate otherwise.

“Nothing? I could practically smell you during my meeting. I could definitely hear you rubbing away.” He leans down to nip at your ear.”

Homelander briefly lets go of his cock to massage his balls, groaning loudly. He wants to prolong this but he can feel himself reaching the end of his rope. His abdomen is sore from the clenching of his muscles and he can feel his heartbeat in every fiber of his body. His lungs can’t seem to get enough air as he gasps at the wave of arousal.

Something prickles at the back of his brain. The story ignites some synapse that sparks an unimportant memory. It’s not enough to draw him out of his fantasy but somewhere in his hindbrain he logs it.

He imagines someone hearing him right now and his cock twitches. He gives a comforting squeeze as he wiggles the fingers inside himself again.

Fuck

“The combination of his filthy words along with your eager rubbing has you coming undone before he even fucks you. You feel truly visible for the first time.. Homelander saw that embarrassing needy part of you and he wanted it. He tracked you down once the rest of the crime analytics team had left and bent you right over your desk.

“There you go. Doesn’t it feel better to come on my fingers instead of your own?”

FUCK

Homelander’s vision goes red and hot as his fingers hit the spot inside him juuuuuust right. He tenses, entire body locking up, balls tightening, toes curling against the floor. He hangs weightless for a single moment before the storm of pleasure hits like a tidal wave. Hot ropes of come splatter all over his thighs and chest as he frantically strokes himself, milking himself of every last drop of pleasure. He bears down on his hand as he rides himself through it. He can hear his own voice ringing in his ears, the perfect voice of his best self.

“Doesn’t it feel better to come on my fingers instead of your own?”

In his mind he’s bent over the desk with a warm body against his back. His hips are sore but his muscles are pleasantly relaxed for once. He feels safe and protected. A strong hand grips his hip to hold him steady as the other Homelander removes his fingers with a soft wet noise.

He slumps into the leather, pleasantly sated.

Once he’s regained his senses a bit, he reaches for the remote and clicks off the tv. He’ll have to remember to finish the entire fic later when his cock has recovered a bit. The black screen reflects his face and Homelander is surprised to see the pleasure drunk smile on his face. He can’t remember the last time he smiled like this. Probably not since… He quickly shakes his head and shoves all thought of her from his brain. He doesn’t need anyone else to get off. He’s just fine on his own.

The little brain worm from earlier returns now that the room is quiet and distractions are gone. His mind still itches. Homelander clicks the tv back on and scrolls back up with a frown.

Crime analytics?

Most of the fics he reads are mindlessly generic. Most depict a banal office atmosphere when the setting takes place at Vought tower. It’s very easy for him to tell when the author is an outsider. Name dropping a specific department is new. Not to mention, the way the office was described in the beginning was eerily similar to the large room where the crime department is located…eerily similar.

Homelander’s heart pounds as he puts together the pieces. The author works at Vought and he knows in which department. The author has likely crossed paths with him. In fact, Homelander’s stomach tightens as he skims the fic, the author has probably shared an elevator with him.

He checks the upload date.

One week ago…

The unimportant memory floods back.

One week ago, he’d frightened a mousy crime analyst when he’d stopped the elevator for a ride. The little analyst never even looked directly at him. It was typical and not even worth the effort to get annoyed by. The sound of a fluttering heart and the scent of adrenaline were common occurrences no matter where he went. The moment he exited was the moment he’d already begun to forget.

Homelander sighs contentedly as he closes his eyes and lets himself bask in the afterglow. Curiosity sated, he lets his mind wander. Maybe he’ll surprise his little writer tomorrow and let them properly enjoy the fantasy this time. It’s the least he can do.

He reaches down and touches his hip, the phantom soreness still lingering.

After all, he knows just how good it feels to be fucked by him.

[physalian]

In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Hotarubi Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Subaru Kagami

Another one on the list "does not play games".

But he does! This game in particular catches his eye because everyone has been playing it.

He does not have the idea of choosing a character at the beginning, it's too stressful and what if he likes some other characters?

He's going into this knowing it's an otome game (it's not but characters have the power to ignore it. *cough Haku cough*) and poor guy is just worried if he'll lose a route if he chooses a character.

If he's starting the story + if it has routes, he needs to see all the routes.

Chooses you because you're so...he can't put it into words. You're suspicious but you're also very comforting in a way.

Is financially responsible. Does not feel the need to gamble.

"Oh no, I didn't get the character." *2 seconds later* "It's okay, I'll get them on their rerun."

F2P throughout!!!

Apologizes when his character apologizes too, he feels so bad for them but then him and his favourite character are seen together so little, it's kind of sad :(

He wants to see more of you! But the game said no so he turns to the next best thing.

Fanfiction. Writes only for your character alone, has done numerous character studies, directed your personality, even going as far as to find tidbits your voice actors may have left for you

He's a chill player, does not worry much but does very a lot in the story if he's about to die.

No, he's not used to almost dying in every chapter.

↪ Haku Kusanagi

Where do I begin...?

THIS MAN FLIRTS WITH YOU

you're a character on his screen, he's a human who flirts with you after you say your automated line.

Is a bit nsfw but he means well

Commissions? Art commissions?

He's the king of yume.

Has his own fanpage dedicated to you but no one knows it's him because yeah, how will they know?

You know those "Timely Character" accounts? Yeah, he has that.

+ another one to defend you from any haters.

SPEAKING OF SELF-SHIPPING/YUME, he has likely commissioned every artist he knows + likes the art of to draw him (not his OC) and you together.

Will also get into drawing because 1) he wants to make fanart for Subaru's fics. 2) he wants to draw you.

Merch? Babe he's the creator of merch.

You know that one Hatsume Miku deodorant being sold at a Comicon? Yeah, he's going to do that but with you instead.

Jewellery inspired after you? oh absolutely. Body pillow of you? No. Plushie he made after you? Oh hell yes.

He's a keeper, but he pulls on every character. Has insane luck + cracked builds.

Claims he doesn't know how to build anyone except you (but he does)

↪ Zenji Kotodama

Can he hold a phone...? Does it go through him or isahukvas anyways!

First and foremost, he writes bloody good flowery fanfiction.

He chooses not you, but his brother's favourite character! Eventually meets you in Chapter 5?

BAWLS HIS EYES OUT AFTER KNOWING YOUR FATE

you were so young :( how could the clash cut your life short?

Is your biggest fan ever, only pulls on your banners and if he doesn't get you, he's discreetly using Darkwick's money to pull on your banner.

Don't ask me how he got the card details, he's a ghost, he can get places.

You're on his home screen and because he doesn't need sleep, he's constantly hearing your voice lines in game

Eventually, the biwa in Hotarubi was accompanied by the voice of a character.

LIKE, KEYCHAINS!!! Biggest fan of Keychains, will hold them around everywhere displaying them to the world. He's your biggest fan!!

and if someone else claims that title, he's fine with it! More people love you right!! That's all he cares for.

Prev [Sinostra] Next: [Obscuary]

[maul-of-shame]

[TW: Rant about toxic and very vocal Haladriels/ Saurondriel ship]

As always, if you can’t be polite in the comments, then just keep your thoughts to yourself. Seriously. Scroll on by. Don’t even bother reading this if you’re a die-hard fan of Sauron or Haladriel because I’m not in the mood to deal with that energy today. This isn’t a public debate, this is my space. Respect it or leave.

Now that we’ve cleared that up—guess who’s back? Still a little sick, but salty rants are officially back, and oh boy, the fire is burning. You see, I’ve been resting and recovering like a good little elf, but now that I can play SWTOR again, the energy is back, and I have some words. Buckle up Buttercup-

This is probably not the last time I’ll talk about this, but I really need to lay it out again because the levels some people will go to justify a villain’s actions—because he’s “hot”—is genuinely disturbing. If you genuinely believe that Sauron is “just misunderstood,” that him literally trying to kill Galadriel was some kind of twisted “sex metaphor,” that Elrond isn’t actually Elrond but Sauron in disguise, or that people calling Sauron abusive are just being “patriarchal,” then honestly, please block me.

This isn’t about ships or fanfiction anymore—it’s about the deeply concerning way people are twisting logic to absolve a literal villain of his actions. Sauron is not a misunderstood anti-hero. He’s a manipulative, power-hungry, genocidal tyrant who tried to deceive Galadriel, manipulated her, used her vulnerabilities against her, and then turned around and tried to kill her when she wouldn’t submit to him. That’s not romance. That’s not “enemies to lovers.” That’s a literal villain’s modus operandi. And yet, some of y’all are out here claiming that any criticism of Sauron is rooted in patriarchy or that it’s “anti-feminist” to call him out for what he is.

I’m sorry, but if you need to do this much mental gymnastics to justify your take, maybe it’s time to step back and reevaluate. Fiction is fiction, sure, but the way some people are willing to twist and dismiss abuse dynamics, manipulation, and outright violence because the villain is attractive is deeply worrying. And I genuinely hope this way of thinking doesn’t extend into real life, because the idea that a villain’s charisma or looks somehow absolve them of their behavior is terrifying.

I’ve seen way too many excuses for Sauron that border on outright denial of what’s in the text or on screen. People saying things like “He didn’t actually mean to hurt anyone, he was just lonely” or “He’s the true hero of the story because he was willing to go against the Valar”—do you even hear yourselves? You’re romanticizing literal abuse and manipulation while vilifying the characters who are actively trying to protect others from him.

And the excuses don’t stop there. Apparently, some people believe that Galadriel is “the real villain” or that her refusal to accept Sauron’s “help” was a sign of her weakness. The amount of vitriol thrown at her—an actual hero in this story—is staggering. And meanwhile, Sauron gets to be the misunderstood, brooding anti-hero in these takes? The mental backflips are exhausting to witness.

This fandom loves to talk about Tolkien’s messages and themes, yet somehow ignores that Sauron is the embodiment of corruption and deceit. If you can’t even accept that Sauron is supposed to be evil, maybe Tolkien’s work isn’t for you. And before anyone starts with the “separating canon from fanon” argument—I get that. I write fanfiction too, and I’m all for exploring creative interpretations.

But there’s a difference between exploring something fictional and outright denying or twisting what’s on the page to fit your narrative.

Stop saying that people who don’t like Haladriel are “anti-feminist” or that they just don’t understand strong female characters. That’s such a tired, lazy, and frankly pathetic excuse to shut down valid criticism.

Disliking Haladriel isn’t rooted in misogyny; it’s rooted in the fact that this dynamic is textbook abusive. There’s nothing “feminist” about glorifying a relationship where one person manipulates, gaslights, and literally attempts to murder the other. Feminism isn’t about blindly shipping any relationship where a woman is present—it’s about recognizing and calling out dynamics that strip away her agency or put her in harm’s way.

Sauron is not a misunderstood anti-hero. He’s not a tragic, brooding soulmate for Galadriel. He’s a literal villain who preys on her vulnerabilities, uses her trauma against her, and tries to dominate her when she refuses to submit. That’s not feminism—that’s a gross romanticization of abuse. Saying that people who call out this dynamic “don’t get it” or are “patriarchal” is ridiculous. If anything, defending and romanticizing Sauron’s behavior undercuts the entire feminist argument by normalizing the idea that women should forgive or redeem abusive men because “he’s just lonely” or “she brings out the good in him.”

Not liking Haladriel has nothing to do with feminism and everything to do with not glorifying toxic dynamics. Feminism doesn’t mean excusing abuse just because you find the villain attractive or because you want a strong female lead to be in a “romantic” relationship at all costs. Stop hiding behind feminism as a shield for these takes—it’s insulting to the movement and to anyone who genuinely cares about advocating for women’s empowerment.

Morfydd Clark literally said — and repeated — that Galadriel has to relearn how to live because of Sauron, that she has to build herself back up again after what he did to her. She even called it out explicitly, saying he can’t get, and I quote, “his nasty claws” into her. It doesn’t get clearer than that: Galadriel’s arc is about rejecting Sauron, rebuilding herself after his manipulation, and making sure he has no power over her.

If you can’t understand that, if you keep twisting the narrative into some delusional “tragic lovers” dynamic, then maybe stop calling other people “illiterate” for not agreeing with you. Because at this point, refusing to acknowledge what the actual actress and the show’s narrative are telling you says way more about your own willful denial than anyone else’s supposed misunderstanding.

It’s honestly ironic how some of the most vocal ones are out here screaming things like, “I KNOW YOU SCREENSHOT!” and “I KNOW YOU HATE ME, GET A LIFE!” while conveniently forgetting they spent days—if not weeks/months—making sure that anyone with opposing views wasn’t welcome anymore. They bullied, condoned bullying, and created environments so toxic that people either left or were pushed out entirely. But now? Now they’re out here screaming bloody murder because they’re suddenly feeling the heat? Please.

I'll happily quote you since I also know my takes are shared judging by anons I received the previous weeks:

You built this. You enabled this. You made fandom a hostile space for people who simply disagreed with your takes, all while claiming moral superiority. You acted as if fandom was your personal battleground, and now you’re shocked when people push back or call you out? The hypocrisy is mind-blowing.

Do you not see how ridiculous this is? You cry about being “hated” or “screenshot,” but you had no problem encouraging others to dogpile on anyone with a differing opinion. You allowed, or outright supported, the harassment of people who didn’t agree with your headcanons or your ships, and now you want sympathy?

You want grace?

Do you even think, for a second, that you deserve some after what you've done?

I genuinely hope you get a life of your own and one day—hopefully—you’ll reflect on all the toxicity you spread. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize that fandom is supposed to be a place for joy, not a warzone.

Do these people honestly need me to remind them that some of us have received death threats, rape threats, relentless bullying, and even explicit instructions to kill ourselves—all because we dislike Haladriel or refuse to romanticize Sauron? Do you even realize how utterly insane that is?

Do you people understand that there are MANY of us who’ve had to block, lock down inboxes, and step back from spaces we used to enjoy simply because some of you lack even the most basic decency and empathy? That this isn’t some one-off incident, but a pattern? And yet, somehow, we’re the ones painted as villains or “anti-feminists” or whatever ridiculous label you’ve latched onto this week.

Take a moment to reflect. Maybe instead of excusing or escalating this behavior, you should think about the kind of environment you’re creating. You’re not defending your ship or your takes—you’re harassing real people, and it’s unacceptable. Some of you seriously need to learn where the line is, because you crossed it a long time ago.

It’s honestly pathetic and weak how some of you go out of your way to call anyone who dislikes Haladriel all kinds of disgusting names. Have you ever stopped to consider—just for a second—that maybe, for some people, it’s not about ships, aesthetics, or lore?

That maybe they genuinely hate it because it reminds them of the abuse they’ve gone through?

That maybe they can’t stomach the idea of romanticizing something that feels eerily close to what they lived through?

Good for you if you’ve never experienced abuse. Good for you if you’ve never had to rebuild yourself after being torn down by someone manipulative or cruel. But calling people names, mocking them, or dismissing their pain because they can’t find joy in a ship that screams power imbalance, trauma, and toxicity to them? That’s awful. It’s cruel. It’s thoughtless.

And honestly, it’s such a slap in the face to victims of abuse. You’re not just invalidating their experiences; you’re actively mocking them for refusing to engage with something that triggers them. You’re throwing their pain back in their faces while you scream about “artistic freedom” or “feminism” or whatever other hollow justification you use. And let’s be real: if you genuinely think “disliking an abusive dynamic” is a reason to hurl insults at people, that says a hell of a lot more about you than it does about them.

It’s one thing to love a villain or a toxic ship—go ahead, enjoy your fiction however you want. But the moment you start mocking survivors of abuse for setting boundaries, you’re no longer defending your tastes; you’re showing how little empathy and decency you actually have. Grow the f up. Reflect on what you’re doing.

And maybe, just maybe, stop contributing to an environment that alienates and harms people who are just trying to navigate fandom without being retraumatized.

You tell people to "cater their experiences"—to curate their fandom spaces, to block, mute, and stay in their lane. And yet, you’re the ones scouring tags you hate, finding posts and creators who have explicitly said they don’t like Haladriel or Sauron, just so you can spew vitriol in their inboxes and comments. Do you even hear yourselves?

How can you possibly say that “those people are the problem” when you’re the ones actively seeking them out? You are the ones who can’t scroll past something without leaving hate. You are the ones sending threats, name-calling, and mocking people for their boundaries or preferences. You are the ones making fandom unsafe for anyone who doesn’t agree with you. It’s not “those people.” It’s you. You ARE the problem.

It’s wild that you demand respect for your own opinions while showing none for anyone else’s. You cry about being called out, about screenshots being taken of your bad behavior, but maybe—just maybe—if you weren’t acting out so viciously, there wouldn’t be anything to screenshot. Maybe if you weren’t jumping into people’s inboxes with hate, mocking survivors of abuse for disliking something that feels triggering to them, and calling people awful names for simply existing with a different perspective, this entire conversation wouldn’t even need to happen.

The fact that some of you are so wrapped up in your ship or your villain that you’ve forgotten how to treat others like human beings is honestly sad. You don’t care about boundaries. You don’t care about empathy. You don’t even care about fandom being a place where people can enjoy themselves without fear.

All you care about is being "right" and silencing anyone who disagrees with you.

If you can’t let people dislike a ship or a character without throwing a tantrum, then maybe the problem isn’t them—it’s you. Maybe the next time you feel like sending hate, you should log off, take a walk, and ask yourself why it’s so important to attack strangers over fiction.

Fandom is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be a space where people can share their creativity and ideas, not a battlefield for self-appointed gatekeepers. And until some of you learn that, until you stop seeking out posts you hate just to harass the people writing them, you’ll keep proving what the real problem is. Spoiler alert: it’s not the people you’re targeting.

[goldensunsetchild]

♱ Odd Eye ♱ | SAGAU fanfiction|

[CW: SAGAU, cult themes, violence, imposter!creator, isekai'd reader, fem! reader. A little self indulgent. It might contain lore hypothesis as well.]

Word count: 3.1k

Author's note: please keep in mind that english is not my first language and that there may be some mistakes. I do hope that the story is coherent enough 😅.

When the first signs of light from the sun presented, I couldn't sleep anymore, so I didn't have any other choice than to wake up. I opened my eyes and sat up, glancing at my surroundings, I sighed upon realizing that what had happened all this time was real and not a dream. Oh, how I wished it was a dream... I got up from the ground and walked towards the edge of the floor, gazing up at the sky. The gentle breeze of Mondstadt greeted me, and I smiled before stretching out a little bit.

Only a minute later, my stomach rumbled with hunger, so I decided to try my luck in trying to get food from any hilichurl camp nearby. I used a wind current to lift me up, then I placed my feet over the air and started to walk down towards the ground and I wondered if the people of the city were to see me walking in the air, what would they think? Was the imposter able to do something like that as well? My stomach rumbled again, it seems that I needed to leave the thinking for later and eat first.

After reaching the ground, I started to walk around in search of any sign of a hilichurl camp. It took me a while to finally find one, so when I did, I slowly walked towards the camp. As I wasn't sure if they would attack me, I kept getting close little by little. Once the first one noticed me, I stopped and stayed still waiting to see what kind of reaction it would have. They slowly approached me and then danced? They danced happily, ran back to the camp, and brought me a plate full of sunsettias and apples just to offer them to me.

I took the plate and said thank you, I took a seat over the grass before starting to eat an apple. I was really surprised because it tasted the same as the apples from Earth, so then I decided to try one of the sunsettias, and to my surprise, it also tasted really familiar. Sunsettias watery texture and sweet flavor were like the ones from the Malay rose apples, I really couldn't help but feel curious about the fact that both fruits tasted so similar to the ones from Earth. Once my stomach was satisfied I decided to walk around, I mean even though I already know this landscape from memory its different now that I'm actually walking and not only seeing everything behind the screen of my computer.

While I was taking my stroll, I bumped into some slimes here and there that didn't attacked me like when I played the game, they actually were pretty friendly and looked so bouncy that I couldn't help but touch some of them. Of course there were some exceptions like the pyro slimes and cryo slimes, mainly because if I were to touch them I would probably burn my hands with heat or cold depending on which one of them I touched. To be more safe I decided to poke the surface of an anemo slime and saw how it bounced under my touch, it was actually really funny to do so I did it a couple of times before I heard the roar of a beast... well, more than a beast, it was actually a dragon, but not any dragon. It was Dvalin.

I saw with a flabbergasted expression how he descended from the sky, until he reached the ground and compared to me he was so huge. Honestly I always liked stories about dragons so meeting one in person was like my dream come true, I stood there unable to move closer for I didn't know if he would feel uncomfortable if I moved closer so I maintained a  certain distance between each other. Though it wasn't long before the dragon himself decided to speak to me.

"It's been a long time, Your Grace. I'm really happy to see that you are finally back with us."

He said. And actually, that made a question arise for me.

"Dvalin, do elemental and ancient species can easily recognize me?"

I asked and heard him chuckle. Dragons... laugh?

"Of course, Your Grace. The only ones foolish enough to not recognize you are the humans, as Barbatos has told me."

He said before sighing.

"They even go to the lengths of disrespecting you by treating you as an imposter, humans truly are foolish. Your Grace should punish them for such heresy."

I cleared my throat.

"There's no need for that. I wouldn't like to make innocent people suffer all in the name of a religion, something like that it's nothing but nonsense."

He seemed surprised by what I said.

"Do you consider the concept of religion a bunch of nonsense? It's seems that in your time away from Teyvat, you changed a little bit."

Dvalin said with certain amusement.

"Well, it seems I did. Though I think it would be better for me to explain to you my reasons to do so, everything started back on the world I was before returning here."

I said and immediately started to speak about why I hated the concept of religion, mentioning the stupid and horrible acts people would do all in the name of their god. The first example being "The Inquisition", a horrible era of slaughter back on Earth were people were killed for simple things as being knowledgeable or not believing in the same god and everything justified under the flag of "This is God's will". It made me feel sick that the people here were practically the same as the humans from Earth, that they could easily go to the point of committing genocide everything in the name of a god... the power religion holds over humanity surely is scary.

"Humans truly are nothing but fools."

He said after I finished telling him my reasons. I nodded in agreement.

"Indeed, but let's end the topic here." I said, and just right after that, I saw Venti coming alongside with Diluc towards us. Though it would be more appropriate to say that he was practically running towards me and I had to hold back a laugh. "It seems that we have visitors."

Upon saying that, Dvalin tilted his head around and watched how his friend and a human were coming towards us. After reaching us, Venti immediately jumped on top of me like a dog that was happy to see their owner again, and of course, we both fell against the grass.

"Your Grace! I'm back! You missed me, right? Right?"

Venti asked excitedly.

"Yes, I missed you, but next time, don't jump over me like that. A simple hug should be enough."

I said before getting up from the ground and helping him get up as well. Diluc finally reached us, he seemed to be a little anxious and was glancing at me like he couldn't still believe I was there, all right time to pretend that I didn't overheard their conversation last night. I hid behind Venti even though I was slightly taller than him.

"Venti care to explain why didn't you came alone? Do you understand who the man that came with you is?"

I asked, feigning fear. He turned around to face me.

"It's okay, Your Grace, Diluc is not here to hurt you. Actually, he needs to talk to you about something, so would you be willing to listen to him?"

He asked. Of course, I knew what he was going to speak to me about, but I had to pretend that I didn't know.

"Speak to me about something? Well, I'm not sure what it could be, but if you can truly give me your word that he's not here to hurt me... then I shall grant him the conversation he seeks."

At my answer, Venti smiled and walked towards Diluc. After whispering something to him, they both came back to where I was. Upon a closer look, Diluc was really good looking, actually none of the appearances of the characters I've met so far are anything like in the game... It's like I had in front of me the most handsome and incredibly skilled cosplayer ever, so if you ask me... yes, I feel really nervous right now. Almost immediately, he kneeled down on one knee.

"It's truly an honor to be in the presence of our creator, I apologize for the rough behavior the Knights of Favonius have displayed towards you, Your Grace. My name is Diluc Ragnvindr."

For a moment, I hesitated on what to do next, so all I could think about in doing was to place my hand over his head and give him a soft pat. He flinched at my action and immediately glanced up at me flustered and flabbergasted. To reassure him, I decided to smile warmly at him.

"I already know your name. You don't have to apologize for the doings of the knights, I know they are confused right now, and they actually aren't intending on truly hurting me out of pure will."

I said, and I pulled my hand away from his head since I thought that keeping it there for a long period of time would make him feel overwhelmed.

"So, my dear child. What is this something you wished to speak with me?"

Diluc proceeded to get up from the kneeling position. He glanced at me.

"Long before your descend into Teyvat, your divine weapon made its way down from the heavens. All over the seven regions, everyone searched for its whereabouts but to no avail, of course, until I stumbled upon it inside a hidden chamber on one of Monstadt's domains."

He explained, and I stayed silent for a while, processing this information. Domains in game normally were used to get artifacts of course not all of them cause there were others that merely were used to complete challenges and for the players to obtain certain rewards, so probably the domain Diluc was talking about was one of those. The question is, which one of all of the domains that weren't artifact domains was the one that he was referring to? Besides the temples that were built for the Four Winds of Monstadt, there was one more that was a one-time domain: Eagle's Gate. So there was a total of five possible domains, still as I wasn't sure I decided to ask.

"So.. about this hidden chamber... In which domain is it located?"

I inquired with a little bit of curiosity. To be honest, I am indeed curious about what Starchaser looks like.

"It's inside of The Temple of the Lion, Your Grace."

He answered almost immediately after I asked the question, "The Temple of the Lion." Of course, I know where it is, but I'm not sure if it's okay for me to go alone. First thing because Venti is not going to let me go by myself, secondly the Knights of Favonius are probably patrolling nearby areas and finally, I also don't know in which part inside the domain is this hidden chamber. So the best thing to do right now is to ask both of them to come with me so that they won't worry about me and so Diluc could show me the right way.

"I see. Would it be too selfish of me to ask you both to accompany me? I'm afraid to run into the Knights in my way to the temple if I go by myself. Besides, since it's been so long, I think I'm going to need a guide to get there."

I said softly with an awkward smile so they could take pity on me and protect me. But with how quickly they answered, I probably didn't even need to pretend anything in the end.

"If you may allow me Your Grace, I'd like to accompany you. As you said, going alone by yourself might be dangerous, so please let me protect you."

Diluc would say almost after I finished asking them to accompany me, Venti seemed eager as well, so I nodded. So after that small talk, we all departed from Dvalin's lair towards The Temple of the Lion, on our way there Venti started to tell me about a certain blonde traveler who helped him save Dvalin and Mondstadt from the Abyss. I chuckled. Of course, I knew that story. After all, I was them when I played the game, and that made me wonder if they ever felt my presence when I played the game. I cleared my throat.

"Venti, was there something remarkable about them?"

I asked, and he seemed to think about it for a while.

"Actually, I'm not sure the reason, but when I first met them. I sensed a vestige of your presence. It was as if you were there, like if they got to be your holy vessel."

I smiled. If only he knew.

"Oh, is that so? How interesting. Besides my power, was there anything else in them that reminded you of me?"

Venti thought for a while before giving me an answer.

"Sometimes they displayed a little bit of this sassy attitude you have usually and also would say really mean things. Even Paimon would whine if they were too rough with her, though I have to admit that when they showed this side is when I remembered you the most and wished you were there with us."

I nodded in understanding. It was not all the time because when playing, I was mostly silent, but when something bothered me, I would always go and say rude things to whoever got on my nerves. So, you could say that there were times when I snapped at Paimon for being... well, too much herself. After a while, we finally arrived at the Temple of the Lion's gates, and Diluc touched the gate. This one shined almost immediately before opening itself, moving backwards until both doors were completely out of sight. The three of us walked inside, and Diluc guided us throughout the inside of the domain.

Compared to what I always saw back when I played the game, everything I've seen until now looks way more incredible in person than behind the screen. We walked down some stairs and crossed a small corridor before arriving at a huge gate. It didn’t even get any to us to touch it when it slowly opened itself. The hall inside was incredibly spacious, and the only thing in there was an incredibly big claymore, like, seriously, that thing was so big that one can only imagine a giant lifting it. I glanced at my companions.

"Are you guys sure that thing is mine?" I question walking closer to it.

Venti and Diluc nod at the same time.

"It is indeed yours, Your Grace." Venti answers.

My eyes fell to the floor stone, and I noticed words inscribed in there.

"Is that... Latin?" I said, and Venti walked to my side.

He narrowed his eyes.

"You can read those runes, Your Grace? I can't seem to recognize them."

Huh? But those are words, not runes... oh, of course. They have a different language system here, so it's obvious that they don't recognize the Latin alphabet. I crouched down to see what it said.

ƨiniʇ tɘ mυiqiɔniɿq tƨɘ ƨinɒni

mυɘm nɘmon ɘdiv

mυɘm nɘmon ɘtibυɒ

mυɘm nɘmon ɘɿitnɘƨ

mυɘm nɘmon oɔid

ɿɘƨɒʜɔɿɒtƧ

"Let's see... it says: inanis est principium et finis." I say out loud, and the words that I read before suddenly start to glow. Oh, maybe it's a seal of some sort.

"Vide nomen meum." I continued. The words I read also started to glow.

"Audite nomen meum..." I kept going. "Sentire nomen meum..."

There are only two more left.

"Dico nomen meum..." I did a pause before standing up.

"Starchaser."

The seal finally broke, and I stepped forward before touching the blade of the weapon. This one immediately reduced its size to one an average human could handle, and then I grabbed the hilt of the claymore and lifted it up. My initial thought was that it was probably going to be pretty heavy. However, that wasn't the case as it felt pretty light, and it had a good balance, you know, as all the heroes of fantasy books say when they finally get the right sword into their hands. Just thinking about a sword was enough for Starchaser to morph into one, I blinked, clearly surprised. Could it be...?

"Venti, can Starchaser morph into any type of weapon?" I asked him.

Venti approached me and gave a glance to Starchaser and then back to me.

"As far as I remember, yes. Actually, I think seeing you being a master with all weapons was the main reason Morax also learned how to wield all types of weapons as well. I also tried, but in the end, the only one I learned to master was the bow." He answered.

I screamed internally like a fangirl, I can't believe he took me as an inspiration to start to learn to handle all types of weapons. I cleared my throat and thought of a staff, so Starchaser morphed into one. It was the only weapon I thought would drag less attention, though it still has this ominous aura in it, so... let's pray that not all people notice that aura. When I lifted my gaze from Starchaser, I noticed something in the back of the room, so I started to walk towards there. Upon reaching the place, my eyes widened at the sight in front of me.

It was a statue almost as big as the one outside of the church in Mondstadt. A woman was sculpted. It had four wings behind her, as well as four arms in which you could see small feathers coming from her forearms. On her legs near her ankles were also smaller wings, two golden hoops on top of her ankles, and she was barefoot. She was wearing a dress with a golden ornament on her waist. There were also golden bracelets on her arms and over her neck and shoulders a golden necklace as well. Her hair was long and wavy, and around her head was something akin to a laurel crown, but they were feathers as well; her expression was calm, and her eyes remained closed.

"Venti, who is this?" I asked.

I heard hurried steps coming to where I was, Venti and Diluc gazed at the statue with awe. Diluc immediately kneeled down, unable to tear his eyes off, I saw small tear drops on Venti's eyes. The silence went for a whole minute before he finally spoke.

"I thought all of your statues disappeared forever, but there was one right here. It's like a miracle, Your Grace." He said with clear nostalgia on his voice.

So... it's a statue of the creator. In other words, a statue of me.

To be continued

A/N: the translation of the Latin I used in this chapter is: "Void is the beginning and the end. See my name. Hear my name. Feel my name. Say my name. Starchaser."

tag list:

@atsukawolfcat, @kapitankarate, @mmeatt

[switchbladedreamz]

Door Number Three

Pairing: Ghostface x College!Student Reader, you guessed it, college au.

Requested?: no

Rating: R

Warnings/Tags: stalking (its ghostface), eventual smut

Summary: Y/n makes out with a random guy at a party. A week later someone in her class asks her out only to not show up. Who sent her the picture of herself?

please reblog and comment. Not only does it help blogs grow but it helps fanfiction grow and builds community <33

~~~~

Lively voices buzz all around me. Different types of conversations being held, how someone's day was going, what their parents said to them. Friends catching up, department faculty sitting with each other. The cafeteria is alive with chatter.

Standing at the end of the line, my hangover is thanking the universe that the line isn't that long. I recognize some of the faces in the line in front of me from the party last night. Dozens of drunken flashbacks play in my head all at once like a burst of ink on a page. My fingers ghost over my lips as one flashback in particular sticks out. My lips on some guy's neck. Did I make out with a total stranger? I try to focus my attention on recalling his face but..

"It's ready for ya" the cashier at the counter, her short brown hair is worn in a hairnet today, interrupts my internal investigation. I pull my I.D. out of my wallet and scan it in front of the small barcode scanner. I walk further into the cafeteria. My dry bloodshot eyes lock onto the familiar sight, the grill area. 'Fries. I need fries. French fries will fix me.'

It feels like my rumbling stomach is in charge of my feet as I stumbled a few steps forward, toward the plate stacks on a shelf beneath the dishes of food being served. After stacking my plate in golden, crisp, deliciousness I cross the cafeteria to the drink machine. I get my favorite soda and a seat at a table in the back half of the room, where there's less people. Natural light from the windows warms the tables surrounding them. My shorts do nothing to save me from the shock of the cold chair assaulting the backs of my thighs. Quickly I cross my left leg over the right to warm myself. The salt shaker on this table is almost empty, the remaining salt grains clang as the shaker is put back down to rest in front of me. My phone vibrates in my pocket. From the lock screen the notification is an image text from some random number. Assuming it's from a campaign or mailing list I forgot I signed up for, my thumb slides up my lock screen. Clicking on the text with the only subject being the word "image" in italics.

*bzzt bzzt*

"this u?"

Food gets caught in my throat, my chest instantly fills with air. My nose takes a deep breath in, the different smells mixing in the air. I take a deep drink to wash down the food I'm trying desperately not to choke and die on.

The picture that was sent is a selfie of the guy whose face I couldn't remember until now, myself, and our tongues down each other's throat. There's a mask pushed to the top of his head, sticking to his pale forehead with beads of sweat. Medium length black hair that's hidden behind the back of the mask. As far as his costume goes it's just black.. Well this just got either really creepy or really hot.

I respond. "Are you the guy in the photo?"

"so it is you"

"who are you?"

A grey box pops up into the chat with a loading circle in the middle. The grey fades to color, a girl sitting by self in front of a window, in a crowded room. Wearing a burgundy shirt and grey shorts, hunched over her plate and phone. I look down, its my clothes. That's me in the picture.. right now. My head shoots up, my eyes scanning everyone in the cafeteria. Their facial expressions, who is sitting in front of me, who they're sitting with, what tables are empty.

'Should I go to the police? Is this serious or is this a prank? I don't remember giving this guy my number..' Out of the corner of my eye, a small bubble with three bouncing dots appears above my keyboard. "See you soon bunny🫀🐇"

If this is a prank, I don't like it. And if it's not a prank... I refuse to let this fuck up my day right now, I have a test tomorrow I need to study for. Then I can move this morning on to the long list of things in the last 24 hours I can't or refuse to remember.

Promises, promises..

~~~~

My head hurts and my throat is so dry it feels like I swallowed sand. Every joint aches, my stomach is like a hornet's nest in a duffle bag that was dragged behind a truck. I wanted to skip class so bad, despite the fact that I got up, made myself get dressed and reminded myself that I studied hard the past few days, and I memorized the material well. I see no reason why I would do bad on this test. Also because I'll hate myself if my hard work isn't paid off. The test is over and I'm blissfully on my way to collapse in my bed, someone in hallway calls my name. I stop in the stairwell, turning to look behind me. He's medium height, a dark green shirt that rests over the grey sweat pants he's wearing. Lucky. My sweatpants are dirty. I don't remember where they sit but his voice is one I recognize as someone who sits behind me. He follows the crowd of people from the class room down the stairs although he stops in front of me. "Its uh Y/n? Right?"

"Yeah," Sticking my hand out in front of me, his large hand covers mine when he grasps it for a handshake. "I'm Wayne, I sit behind you. How did you think you did on the test?"

"I'm glad it was easy, I don't know if my brain could've handled one more four paragraph discussion over the same three things we discuss every class because this guy can't move on from the French Revolution." I shift my weight from foot to the next, turning my attention to Wayne.

"I know right? I checked the syllabus, we're supposed to be learning about the industrial era by now. I mean dude, come on." I chuckle at what he said, taking in his features. Tall with high cheek bones, a five o'clock shadow that frames his jaw nicely. Brown eyes, warm smile, long curly brown hair falls below his collarbone. He's cute.

"I've uh, always wanted to tell you, I like your style. The way you dress is really cool. Uh, maybe we could get to know each other over coffee sometime? We could talk about music, or books."

My face is hot and red, blood is rushing everywhere making everything warm and clammy. The one day I look and feel like shit is when I get asked out? I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Does The Better Blend tomorrow at 2 work for you?" I nod dumbly, trying not to smile like an idiot. "Yes, it does. Uh im sorry but I've really gotta get goin, can I give you my snapchat real quick?"

~~~

It's 2:15 and Wayne is nowhere to be found. I text him and wait for a response.

3:00 pm, still nothing and he's leaving me on delivered.

9:00 pm. Dean Winchester is fighting vampires on my tv. Sam is somewhere out of frame getting his ass kicked.

"Ever hear back from the guy that stood you up?"

"Nope." popping the 'p'. I looked at my friend, Reggie, next to me, I called him over to do homework together and keep my mind off my shitty day.

"I'm sorry. Maybe it was for the best." My back is greeted by his big warm hand rubbing in circles. "Probably." I sigh. We work on homework together sitting on my bed for another hour. I stretch my arms up and out, my mouth gapes and I suck in air in a surprise yawn. "Wanna take a break and watch RuPaul's Drag Race?"

"Fuck yes." I giggle. The floor is cold as I stand to put mine and Reg's laptops on my desk. Crawling back in bed I switched from Netflix to Paramount +.

~~

1:15 am, I crawled in bed thirty minutes ago and I can't calm down enough to wind down. My heart feels all swirly. The nightstand next to me vibrates as my phone lights up. A text. Oh joy.

"poor bunny a little birdie told me you got stood up"

I groan, a soft thud sound echoes around my ears as my head deadweights with a whump into the pillow.

"what do you want dude"

"what do i want?"

"i want to play a little game called.."

"guess which room im in"

[amarmeme]

I finally finished the game last night and have a lot of thoughts/feelings left lingering about Lucanis/Rook. I know people have gone on and around on this already, but I am compelled by this fictional mess.

I don't even think we need more from Lucanis, but more from Rook, which is my takeaway from the game as a whole regardless of romance, but I would guess is most highlighted by his romance path in particular.

Spoilers below the cut.

Pretty much anything I have written or will write is going to include some degree of angst. It's my favorite brand of tension.

Case in point: my favorite Austen novel is Persuasion. If that shows anything, it's that I live for inner turmoil, quiet suffering, yearning, unspoken words, and two idiots in love.

I want to get my heart shredded until the love makes it whole. The Lucanis romance has the potential for this in spades, but the execution is just lacking and that's because we never go beyond surface with Rook's thoughts. It feels like this romance is supposed to carry on the backs of the players' imagination, which feels a bit cheap.

I've seen criticism of not enough from Lucanis and also defenses that he's been through A Lot so we shouldn't expect more. I'm actually past that. Yes, more scenes with Lucanis would have been great, but I actually want more scenes from Rook's perspective, even if alone, to fill in the strange gaps.

Before you lock in mechanically, imagine if you will, Rook having a reflective conversation with Varric, or in Varric's mirror. Rook asks if they are imagining a connection, or seeing into things.

What if Rook has a chance to speak with Neve, given she and Lucanis have a clear connection whether they get together or not? Or Harding, one of the other people who appear in Lucanis' mind prison?

I could see this continuing after the romance "locks in" -- companions comment on Lucanis looking happy, them being together, but what about Rook? If they're not ready to comment directly to Lucanis on what this really means to him (since they never kiss, touch, exchange soulful looks, etc.), Rook should be able to ask the companions what they have noticed/what they should do to advance things.

This comes down to my struggle with this game versus past Dragon Age games. It all boils down to the lack of interaction between Rook and others. If Rook could ask their colleagues questions rather than just listening to ambient conversations or helping further their personal quests, it would do so much to make this game as amazing as the past installments.

Rook is so lonely, surrounded by all these people. You have to choose to imagine they are connected and are having these interpersonal conversations about themselves, because they never happen on screen. At least I didn't get any of that in my Shadow Dragon Rook playthrough.

I am completely fine with what feels like one-sided pining, and even angst about what Lucanis actually wants out of Rook, but the game needs some mechanics to put into place to make it feel like Rook isn't just quietly okay with an empty relationship, or expect us to imagine things are happening when the game presents them as very much not.

So much of what is there is perfectly rife for fanfiction, but I expect the logical progression to be clear in the game where it really is just not. I have no idea how Lucanis/Rook get from point A to B to C. It feels like it is missing content, and it could even just be Rook-specific content to smooth it over. As it is now, it feels like an unconvincing story.

Maybe one day I'll play it again as a crow to see if that adds any crumbs, but for now I'm just feeling kinda conflicted for my poor Rook. I love the potential, but am not super pleased with the execution.

[mystoriaaa]

FakeCreator!Reader

SAGAU but reader becomes the tyrant imposter who pretends to be the creator. Also has a game system in place because I'm a sucker for those lol

“How about we play a game?” 

“A game?”

“Yes. It'll be a fun, simple game. Just how you like it. It'll even involve that Genshin Impact game you're currently playing.” The person smiles, “I just need you to…”

—

You open your eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. And suddenly every sense of yours sharpens.

You feel the mattress you're laying down on, it's too soft. You jolt upright at the thought you possibly got kidnapped, looking around the new environment.

It's…fancy. You look down at what you are wearing and… it certainly fits the place you’re in. It feels smooth, something a rich aristocrat person would wear in the past. But that's the thing, you are broke as hell and you certainly aren't that old.

So what is this? Is this some kind of new sick joke kidnappers do nowadays?

A ping from a hologram accompanied by a robotic voice reading it out appears right in front of your dumbfounded face, cutting you off your thoughts. 

[Welcome to the World of Teyvat, player!]

What?

[You are currently inhabiting the body of the so-called “Creator” of Teyvat but the body is actually a fake!] The hologram fakes a gasping sound.

What. 

[Now, you have no choice but to pretend to be the real Creator or else…] It pauses for dramatic effect to reveal horrifying news that you'll definitely not like.

[You’ll be executed! Oh no!]

“WHAT?!” You yell in shock, at the absolute absurdity of it all. Not knowing that it would alarm the people guarding outside the door.

“Your grace?! Are you okay?!” The door slams open, and that's when you know, you are fucked.

Your grace. You internally curse that title, the one commonly used for the Creator. Towards the imposter that was actually the real one or to the fake pretending to be one. Which you are supposedly the latter.

Two people entered the room, and you felt the sudden movement of the wind despite the closed room. But that's just your imagination, right? Is what you would like to believe but…

A familiar yet foreign appearance appeared. That– That shouldn't even be real. You dig your nails into your palm, hoping the pain will wake you up.

Yet you feel fully awake as Venti, a game character, goes to you. Looking all over your body for non-existent injuries while your mind breaks down, crumbling at the horrid realization. 

His brows furrowed, gently prying your hand open, “Your grace? Is something wrong?” He asked in a worried tone.

You look at him, you don't know what expression you have but Venti flinches and ask again, “What’s wrong, your grace?” 

You take away your hand that Venti was caressing, hugging yourself as you close your eyes to process what was happening. 

You’ve— you’ve just somehow isekai’d like in those shows you watch. And not just any normal isekai, but in the body of the fake Creator of those SAGAU fanfictions you read.

“Your grace, may I ask what happened?” A deep, smooth voice filled with concern but all it does is make your face pale.

Oh. You are absolutely doomed.

Warning bells ring in your head, the two’s voices blurring yet the words of the hologram echoes clearly. 

If they discover you're the imposter, you will die.

The world becomes distant as your chest tightens, everything feels real and not at the same time. You don't remember when you fainted, but all you wanted was for this to be a dream and wake up in your world again.

The last thing you see is the blue screen, with words that feel like it's mocking you.

[We hope you enjoy your experience and live to see another day!]

—

[Congratulations! You received a Memory Fragment from earning the achievement: <Trapped in another world?! The life of a Creator Imposter starts now!> Obtained from a successful transmigration.]

[Accessing Memory Fragment… Success!] 

[Memory Fragment playing now.]

“How dare you?! You dare to question me?!” Someone yells in anger. A voice so strangely familiar to you.

You try to remember whose voice it is, it almost comes to you but leaves when you come close to remembering. You know it's someone you know very well yet you can't put your finger on it. 

“P-Please, your grace… I did not mean to—” A different person’s voice, someone unfamiliar this time, begs desperately but was cut off by another angry yell.

“You dare to talk back to me?! Morax! Barbatos! What are you doing, you slow and incompetent acolytes! Bring death to this man right this instant!”

You flinch at the names spoken out, so so familiar but you just can't seem to remember. Your head hurts as you try to force yourself to recall what you forgot.

A clear, low voice void of emotions speaks, “We apologize for being late, your grace. We will do as you command.” 

A slap echoes loudly. 

Weird enough, you faintly felt the contact. As if you were the one that hit someone. But that can't be? You can't even see, let alone move…

“Useless. Useless, I say!” 

All of a sudden, your vision comes back to you slowly. Your senses are getting clearer and clearer.

Then, you feel your mouth speaking, your body moving even as you try to fight against it. You start to panic when you can't control your own body.

“It is an honor for you to be personally serving me. Yet you dare to treat me like this?” 

You try to scream, try to take back control of your body but all you do is point at someone kneeling before you.

“You seem to forget, you wretched Archon. But I am your—”

Suddenly, it comes back to you. Your mind momentarily freezes at you remembering everything. You somehow got put into the game you were playing and became someone you did not want to.

That's right, you are now the… 

“—Creator! The Creator of Teyvat! The ruler of this world! And you will respect me, worship me as I deserve.”

[Memory Fragment finished! Collect Memory Fragment to access more of the Imposter’s memories! It will surely help your survival. You can do it, player!]

—

You open your eyes. And once again, you see that unfamiliar ceiling. You close it one more time, just in case.

To your absolute dismay, it does not work.

You pinch yourself once, twice yet nothing happens, you stay in this dream-like place.

You sit upright with a headache from the imposter’s memories you received. Massaging your forehead as you try to calm down.

“Your grace?” Ugh, that cursed title. The proof of your annoying situation. “Does your head hurt? Would you like me to get you medicine?”

You look at the source of that voice and lo and behold, it's Zhongli from the hit game Genshin Impact. Sitting at the seat beside the bed.

If it was in any other situation, you would cry from joy meeting one of your characters. But now, you want to cry for a different reason.

“No. I am alright.” You say rather stiffly, you weren't sure how you should be speaking. Should you be screaming insults everywhere like the imposter you saw in the memory or something?

“I understand. I brought you lunch, would you like to eat?” Oh, the beautiful voice you love to hear whenever he was on screen. Yet it chills your spine, scared at what he might do when he finds the truth.

This would have been much, much better if this was all a dream. But noo, you stare at the hologram over Zhongli's face, this is unfortunately the reality. 

You sigh, “Give it to me.” Zhongli obliges. 

Well, at least the food is good. Even better than what you have in the previous world, you won't lie. Makes your remaining time alive better at least.

…You mentally slap yourself to stop these thoughts or else you might throw up.

After you finish eating, Zhongli takes the tray and says, “Dr. Baizhu said you fainted from feeling overwhelmed. Is there something troubling you?” 

You would feel bad at his worried tone if not for the fact you want to run away at the moment.

“It was nothing, you do not need to worry about it. I will be fine after resting.” You say with a fake calmness you did not feel, and hope it sounds like the real owner of this body despite the lack of yelling.

But then his eyes glint, piercing at you, looking like he just found the answer to his questions. And all you can think is that you already failed.

Standing from his seat, “I will be leaving then. Rest well, your grace.” Bringing the tray with him, the sound of the door closing made you slumped to the bed. 

That was so stressful…! Silently groaning to yourself, and looking at the annoying blue hologram box in front of you.

“You! Bring me back home right this instant!” You tried not to yell loudly, fearing that someone might hear you and come in. 

[Sorry to disappoint, player! But I cannot do that!]

“And why not?!” 

[Your original body has died, no medium can be used for you to access the previous world. Would you still like to proceed?]

A yes or no appears, and you ask in distraught. “I’m– I’m dead..?” 

[Yes. Returning would permanently make you disappear. Would you like to proceed?] The monotone voice irritates you to no end, it felt like it was mocking you.

“I— Why?” Your voice comes out quivering. You don't know what you are trying to ask, you just wanted answers.

[Please calm down, player! At the end of the day, this is all just a game.]

A game. 

A game. 

JUST A FUCKING GAME?!

You throw the nearest thing near you, the pillows passing through the holographic screen. “You brought me to this world and you say it is just a game?!”

Being quiet be damned. Fearing someone entering be double damned. You have to somehow make this screen pay for what they said.

You didn't want to be in this situation! This place where powerful people from fiction can hurt you in the most painful way possible before killing you. Even if you died and couldn't go back, you still wanted to return home because it's better than being here.

But this annoying blue box telling you it is just a game felt like it was trampling over all the fear and desperation you had. 

When you run out of pillows, you go for the glass of water at your bedside table and throw it. It shatters and the water gets everywhere on the floor. With nothing else to throw, you attempt to throw the big fluffy blankets too—

Venti enters the room and sees you trying to lift a clumsily folded blanket but it keeps falling off. You complain the third time it falls off again, “This stupid blanket!” 

Venti gets near you, holding you as you shake him off. “Your grace, what is the matter?” You keep thrashing around until you accidentally hit him. 

All of a sudden, your anxiety spikes and anger gone. You almost forgot that this is someone who could kill you, and you just hit him. You immediately try to apologize, “S-Sorry—” 

But you stop at Venti’s look of confusion and disbelief. What? Why is he... You rack your brain at the expression until you realize. 

The one you're right now is the imposter who's pretending to be the creator. The one who acted like a tyrant in that memory you received. You panic, you're already acting so out of character already.

You try to think of a way to fix it so they won't get suspicious until Venti brings your hand to his cheeks, smiling almost crazily, “It’s okay, your grace. This body is your creation, you have the right to do anything to me as you wish.” He lets go of your hand, but he waits. As if encouraging you to hit him.

Chills went down your spine, you remember how insane the behavior the playable characters have towards the Creator. It was all for fun when you read them, because it was fiction. But actually experiencing it yourself now scares you. 

Especially when you're just an imposter.

Swallowing the lump from your throat, you summon all the little courage you have left and say, “...Leave, Barbatos. I wish to be alone right now.” 

He looks at you, the same way Zhongli was looking earlier and you clench your clothes, trying to stop yourself from trembling.

“...Of course, your grace.” It feels like forever until he finally shuts the door, leaving you alone to yourself. But you are also left with a sense of foreboding.

You lay down on the messy bed, closing yourself off from the world. Comforting yourself that everything will be fine.

But a ping from that grating system comes, along with it emotionlessly reading a new notification that makes you fear for your life even more.

—

Venti closed the door behind him. He looked at the other archon standing guard at the door of the Creator’s room.

“Barbatos.”

“Morax.”

Silence echoed until the Geo Archon spoke.

“Did you notice it, bard?”

“Ehe~ Of course I did, why wouldn't a super devoted acolyte like me notice?”

The Anemo Archon replied lightheartedly, but his gaze intense as he stared at the taller god.

“Indeed. It would be quite shameful if us two, the last remaining of the original Seven, did not realize this.” 

The bard chuckled, “You’re right!” with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “Wanna say it at the same time then? 3…”

The Geo Archon sighed tiredly yet complied nonetheless. 

At the end of the count, the two’s expressions turned serious. 

And spoke of the truth that could change everything.

“The Creator has changed.”

—

[Warning! Warning! The playable characters are starting to suspect you!]