#the things fanfiction has given me

[milf-harrington]

really short and silly munson family piece, inspired by something that happened to me literally an hour ago

cw: spiders

---

Eddie reared back with a yelp of alarm. "Oh my god- nope. Wayne!"

Abandoning the washing basket, and whatever organs had just fallen out of his ass, Eddie stomped around the side of the trailer, checking fruitlessly over his shoulder like he was being followed.

The porch lights were warm, orange and familiar, and they helped him to breathe easier now that he wasn't alone in the dark, face to face with a demon.

"What're you shriekin' about?" Wayne was settled on the front steps, smoke curling from a lit cigarette.

"There is a big fucking spider and I almost walked directly- ah!" Eddie flinched when something brushed his jaw, slapping aggressively at his neck and face until he realised it was just his hair. He sighed, relieved. "I almost walked right into it."

Wayne eyed him, exhaling smoke through his nose before nodding towards the corner Eddie had just come from. "You need me to kill it?"

He opened his mouth, prepared with an emphatic yes please, but paused. It's not like it had gone out of it's way to attack him, Eddie had just had the misfortune of almost walking directly through it - would have if he hadn't turned the torch on when he had.

"Well, it's kind of just minding it's own business."

"So I don't need t'kill it?"

Eddie glanced over his shoulder, wrinkling his nose at the inky shadows. His skin was still crawling, every unexpected brush belonging to a phantom arachnid. But a quiet sort of guilt pooled in the back of his throat, bittersweet and cold, at the idea of killing it just because he was scared. He shook his head, scratching his arm. "No."

He shuffled on the spot, hoping if he looked pathetic enough his uncle would take pity on him.

"Weren't you doing something?"

"Can't you finish hanging it out? I'm still recovering from seeing my life flash before my eyes."

"They're your sheets, Ed. I just washed 'em."

"But Wayne." He whined, entirely unrepentant about the childish nature of his behavior.

Wayne Munson remained unmoved, however, and Eddie was forced to brave the washing line all over again. God, he missed the time of about 10 minutes ago when he hadn't been aware of the hell spawn watching him mutter about pegs.

[ohtobealady]

We did it, gang! We finished it! The last chapter is posted :)

Preview under the cut

==============================

He chuckled and it was a weak, dry bounce in his throat. “Not Mary.”

“Not Mary, indeed,” she smiled at him, and the image of Aunt Mary pushing Donk’s chair through the gravel came to her mind. “She really does have the family’s best interest at heart, doesn’t she?”

He chuckled, again, in a way. A dry choke of what should have been a laugh. “She’s the champion of us all.”  The air in his thin chest vibrated with his long exhale. “The heroine of the story.” 

“Yes.” Sybbie grinned; again she stroked his fingers. “The heroine of Downton.” 

But Donk shook his head against his pillows. “No, not that.”

“Oh yes,” Sybbie passed her thumb against his hand. “That was Granny.”

“I was wrong.” She watched him close his eyes and move his lips, quietly, before looking back at her again. His mouth sounded dry as he spoke, dry but very solemn. “The times I’ve thought Downton needed saving. My life’s work: saving Downton. Protecting Downton. Only now that I’m at the end of it all can I see what it’s really been.” 

She didn’t like this. But she’d listen. She swallowed down the feeling that had risen up high in her throat at Barrow’s cottage. She swallowed down the feeling that had lodged itself tightly at reading through Granny’s letters. She swallowed it all down, and she breathed around it. “And what’s that?”

“Downton saved me.” He nodded, slowly, and his lips trembled into a smile. “Only I was far too self-important to understand that. Hubris.” 

“But—” Sybbie adjusted herself in her chair. “You did save it, too. By marrying. And Uncle Matthew. And now with Georgie—

“—yes, the house.”

“What?”

“We worked to keep the house. The Abbey. Oh, but Cora always knew, I think. And… in her gentle way, she tried to tell me so many times.”

Sybbie blinked. “Knew what?”

Donk exhaled a long, but shallow breath. And then Sybbie watched him smile. “Downton is more than just this house.” He turned his hand beneath Sybbie’s, and his soft fingers squeezed her own. “It’s given me far more than I have ever done for it.”

[sp4ceboo]

rant but im a bit scared im going to get attacked

[boinin]

Blue Lock: Not Even Once

[gemharvest]

[aphelea]

17 & 21

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

I think it would be cool if there were more fics set pre-canon/describing the backstories of certain characters or events! There's a few of those already, I know, but not as many as I think I'd like there to be.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Definitely the love triangle. Also, I don't know if this really counts as canon, but I personally don't care much for shipping moments between the kids. Like whatever Tam-Biana-Dex thing is going on. It's not bad, I just don't particularly care much about them.

[daincrediblegg]

no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly

I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.

because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).

And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.

It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.

so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.

[celestialholz]

Live long and fuck in Hondas (or 'why that Vulcan salute is way more significant than you think it is')

Hey. Hey Holz. Did you know Deadpool and Wolverine fucked in the Odyessy? Did you know that they now live in a one-bed with Blind Al? Did you know that -

Yes, friend. I know all of it. And you're all super fucking valid for pointing it out.

... But maybe all of you aren't seasoned Trekkies like me. Maybe not all of you gorgeous people understand the true significance of this.

Or maybe you just want a definitive way to win the argument of "are these two fucking?"

But either way, I'm here to help, and to tell you why, amongst all the absurdly homoerotic text of this film, this moment? Might be the gayest of them all.

Now, we must start by saying that although you wouldn't know it from the bullshit Abrams films, these two:

Are the fathers of gay fanfiction. Spock and Kirk here are the reason you're living in the fantastic timeline where you can write/read men fucking without any other shred of plot and that this is a legitimate and normalised internet experience - everyone say thank you, iconic papas. These guys were so homoerotically coded that even in the 60s, the era of wondrously overdramatic performances of all kinds and fairly prevalent homophobia, The Girlies still took notice, still started mailing each other fics and making zines and being just hugely excited at the thought of these two getting space-married. They are fandom as we know it today's beginning, and seventy years later they're still an enduringly popular ship on AO3. (You should all go and watch Amok Time, by the way. Contains the Honda Odyessy scene of the 60s, except there's weird biology and wrestling and just go and put it on your screens, thank me later. They fucked on that planet.)

Anyway, these two were as close as early colour TV could ever allow two men to be, deepening their *coughs* friendship almost every single episode or film - Trek's creator Gene Roddenberry even gave them a unique word in Spock's Vulcan language, with the meaning of 'friend, brother, lover.' (And if that isn't ringing any Poolverine bells, I'm not actually sure what you want out of this post. Enjoy it anyway, love you.)

... And then we get to 1982's The Wrath of Khan, and to that moment that every iconic screen couple must face - the ol' classic, it's you or me and I won't let it be you.

Sure, the set-up's a little different here - the chamber Spock's in is filled with radiation, and the scene's quieter, softer. And Kirk isn't a mutant so he can't smash his way in, he can just sit there and inwardly die as his emotional support Vulcan does.

... But you get where I'm coming from here. Ryan Reynolds doesn't take a million other potential love scenes from across the cinematic ages - no, he takes this. What is for many the romantic acknowledgement of a whole generation. The humble and desperately sweet beginning of it everything we fans know and love nowadays. The most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in television, directly comparative to what is now arguably the most ambiguously romantic homosexual relationship in cinema. And lest we forget, Wade doesn't believe in a fourth wall - this is a conscious choice, both in canon and in the writer's room.

Oh it's so clever and so beautiful a girl could weep. Ryan just introduced the MCU to the gays, just as Kirk and Spock did all those years ago to the masses of the time.

And then there's what it means.

This is the Vulcan salute, created to mean either 'live long and prosper' or 'peace and long life' - it's used more or less interchangeably.

But part of that's irrelevant when you're as immortal as these two.

So we're left with the sentiments of prosperity and peace, given to a man who up to this point can't imagine ever prospering again, is the furthest thing away from being at peace. Wade gives Logan the opportunity to go on, to find the things he's been lacking for so long now - things he has already helped him find. Spock tells Kirk during The Wrath that 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' and that's exactly what Wade's doing here - sacrificing himself for the greater good of his friends and his newly beloved, however much it will hurt them all.

And that's lovely, and poignant, and character-growing, and I think we all would have been content to leave it at that and have our noble sacrifice, however much we would have wept. Kirk goes on to find the remnants of Spock's soul in the next film in the series, to bring him essentially back from the dead because he felt it was more than his own soul's worth not to have done... which, again, ringing a bell anyone?

Because Logan, in not so many words, tells dear Wade to fuck right off, and we get this.

What we've got here is a direct translation of one of cinema's gayest moments, made somehow infinitely more gay. A true achievement here - I genuinely think I spontaneously acquired tetanus in the cinema for a good minute, my jaw dropped so hard on seeing this. The pillars are the same colour as Kirk and Spock's original uniforms, for fuck's sake. I'm dying out here.

What we've done here is create narrative equality. The whole film's kinda done that leading up to this anyway - they're both mentally fucked up men who can't die, who are constantly dying anyway, who are evenly-matched in battle and both enjoy Honda fucking, who have forged a real love even as they piss each other off at every turn.

But here, they place one another in narrative equality for the first time. It's not about a sacrifice, not now, even though they're assuming it is one - it's about what should be done. It's about righting wrongs, being heroes, being together because every option other than that is unacceptable, because neither understands quite how to lose anyone else. They've both made the same choice, and that's not to let the other die alone.

It's about holding hands and loving and never letting go, even if it kills them.

... It's just about the most romantic and gorgeous thing I've ever fucking seen.

There are no more instances of masks, once they're done in this station. They don't need them any longer; they will never need them again.

And that's only emphasised by the parting shot we get of this... almost directly after Vanessa and Wade share a final sweet look.

I don't know, man. It's almost like the true conclusion is hidden behind the acceptable masquerade. Imagine that in the MCU, folks.

They've taken one of the most intimate and sweet moments in screen history, and made even more glorious.

They did The Wrath of Khan better than The Wrath of Khan did it.

And that's... that's gay. That's just about the gayest thing they could ever have done, and I adore it to the smallest pieces.

So remember, the next time your friends disbelieve you... show 'em this. Show them that they redid the very beginnings of slash fandom, and did it better.

(And then you can add on that they now live in a one-bed with their grandma, daughter and dog, and will do for the rest of their lives. Kirk and Spock didn't even get THAT shit.)

[pedrospatch]

captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice. 

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home. 

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more. 

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking. 

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off. 

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased. 

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him. 

And you shouldn’t be. 

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

[ramblingautisticman]

Anyone else love the differences between movie and fanfiction?

Like, fanfiction for Wade and Logan usually has these things :

1) Logan hates the pet names.

2) He is constantly telling Wade to shut the fuck up.

3) Logan pushes away Wade's physical touch.

4) He pretends to hate the dog.

Now, in the movies. None of this happens. Logan doesn't tell Wade to stop the nicknames. Ever. Not once. Why would he? HE uses nicknames. He calls Scott Slim, he calls everyone else Bub, calls Rogue (movie Rogue) and Jubilee (Everything else) Kid. He uses nicknames all the time, so why would he tell Wade to stop it?

He doesn't tell Wade to shut up. Not really. He let's Wade ramble and talk for the whole movie, apart from before the dinner scene. That's the only scene where he actually tells him to "shut the fuck up". That's the only time he says that. In the car, Wade is trying to start a conversation. Logan tells him to not talk about the suit, but to talk about something else. He doesn't mind Wade talking. He lived in the mansion with fucking 100's of loud kids and (if he had a) Jubilee would talk his ear off.

LOGAN DOES NOT PUSH AWAY THE PHYSUCAL CONTACT FROM WADE ONCE. Not once. Not in the bar, not in the TVA, not in the void, not while they are fighting. Logan doesn't push him away when they land on top of eachother, even after Wade says "almost done" and he asks with what. Doesn't move an inch. He is the one that grabs Wade's hand (may I add that he grabs his hand first and not the anti-matter?) in the chamber. He doesn't care about physical touch between him and Wade. Hell, he probably liked it after being alone for so long.

Okay, pretending to hate the dog is kind of Canon. Kind of. Like, obviously be tells Wade they aren't taking the dog, but that's it. When given the Mary Puppins, he doesn't protest. Before he is going to leave he pets her, and in the apartment he is talking to Laura while messing with her hair. He doesn't hate the dog, and I'm telling you right now, Logan loves her just as much as Wade.

Obviously, I love all of these lil tropes in fanfiction and stuff, I just noticed that in the movie, basically none of these happen?? Which is hilarious to me, cause honestly? They feel like the should? But also, if you watch the X-Men movies and (in my case) some of '97, you realise that Logan uses nicknames, starts physical contact, likes animals AND usually hangs around people that talk alot. Also, him and Morph and similar to him and Wade. So why would he push Wade away or tell him to shut up when he didn't do that to Morph?.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Time to make the post again.

For those who are new to Danny Phantom and/or are in the Phandom (normal or any of the crossovers) haven’t seen the show, please know that Dani/Elle Phantom only shows up in 2 episodes and has a cameo in a third.

It’s only been more recently (past couple years from what I’ve seen) that she’s been seen more regularly in fanfiction and has been given a more rounded personality by the Phandom.

If you like her as a character, that’s great. If you don’t, that’s fine too.

What’s not fine is the badgering of authors demanding to know when she’ll show up in a fic, what she’s doing if she’s not present, or going something along the lines “and then Dani should show up and do x thing!”.

I’ve absolutely had it with this. I shouldn’t have to put tags in saying she’s not there/doesn’t exist in the fic or notes explaining I got fed up with people not paying attention to the character tags (which don’t include her) and decided she doesn’t exist in the story I’m telling. And then it still happens.

And I know it doesn’t just happen with her or just in this fandom.

Some writers are okay with those comments, but for me, it’s so frequent that I’m at my wits end.

Not all characters in a series need to show up in a fic. If an author doesn’t like or want to include your comfort/favorite character, that’s their prerogative. Just please, PLEASE, pay attention to the character tags. If your favorite/comfort isn’t listed in the character tags, note it and move on, especially if it’s a completed fic.

I promise this is not a call out. I’m just so done

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[eyra]

stuff what I have learnt about writing good

If you've followed me for longer than two minutes then you'll likely know (because I keep going on about it) that I've been working on a novel for the past year. It's always been a dream of mine to write and publish a book and whilst I still have a long way to go before I can even start thinking about querying (whether on this book, or the next, or the next, etc.) I suppose I can now say that a book Exists. I have written A Book.

Now whether or not that book ever sees the light of day, the process of writing it has been truly eye-opening. I went in knowing virtually nothing and came out, still with a huge amount to learn, but with a whole library of tools that I didn't have before. I'm now putting these to use with the first draft of my second book and already the process feels so much more enjoyable, because I've started to figure out how to make it work for me.

I wanted to jot down what I've learnt purely for my own reference so I can keep looking back and reminding myself what worked for me first time around, but given that I get a nice number of asks picking my brain about my own writing process, I thought I might as well share all this with you lot in case there's anyone out there who finds it useful!

So here are the big things that I've learnt so far...

1. Not every trick works for every writer

This has been, by far, my biggest learning. Starting to plan a novel for me felt SO overwhelming - I felt like I was bombarded on all sides with "this is how to write a novel" content, and it felt like there was just too much to learn and like I would never find my way through it. I spent weeks (months...) doing every worksheet, every outlining method, every chart, anything I could get my hands on. Some of them, by the end, proved themselves very useful. A lot of them didn't. There are thousands of voices online that are telling you "this is the right way to write a book" or even "this is the ONLY way to write a book" - don't listen to them. Try things, but don't feel like you have to fit yourself into every single box. Just find the things that work for you.

2. It's possible to overplan

On a related note - sometimes you just need to start writing. I spent WAY TOO LONG faffing about before I put pen to paper with my first book. So, so long planning out characters and plot points, a lot of which I then had to completely reimagine mid-draft because I realised they just didn't work anymore. In hindsight, some of this was down to me being scared to actually start writing - the planning stage was a bit of a comfort zone for me, despite not naturally being a plotter/architect - I have always always always been a pantser/gardener, but I got sucked into the whole "proper authors do it THIS way" narrative.

With my second novel, I did a nice amount of planning but then just bit the bullet and started drafting. I know where my story begins, ends, what my major themes are, I know all my main characters and I know my key plot points. The rest, I'm figuring out as I draft. If nothing else - I'm having a lot more fun this time around.

3. Think about voice and tense before drafting

Yeah duh obvious right? NOT TO ME. If you were following me around April time, you may have witnessed a series of minor breakdowns when I realised that, having written a whole first draft in third person present tense, the entire book should actually have been written in first person past tense. So that meant, basically, starting over from scratch. This was a big learning for me, and not a mistake I'm likely to make again.

4. Stop looking at your word count

For someone who's never really put much thought into word count before - my approach with fanfiction has already been "it'll be as long as it'll be" - I got OBSESSED with the word count of my first couple of drafts. A lot of people will tell you that any good novel "has to be" under 100k words. I constantly see this one post on Pinterest that says "I promise you that you can tell the story you want to tell in 100k words or under." I'm definitely no expert on this (and I'll eat my words when an agent tells me my manuscript needs cutting down), but I'm sceptical - a lot of stories can and should be under 100k words, sure, but most of my favourite books are much longer than this. However, I did get stuck in a "this manuscript has to be between 70k and 100k words" mindset and felt like a failure whenever it was sitting outside of that bracket. Also - keep your genre in mind. If you're writing a rom-com, 70k could work perfectly. If you're writing fantasy, you're probably going to go over that.

5. Know whether you're an overwriter or an underwriter

And related to the above - know whether you tend to write bare bones-style then add to it, or whether you tend to dump it all on the page then cut back later. I'm the first, and I knew this, but I still panicked when my first draft was only around 70k. I felt like it was rushing through the plot at an unreasonable pace and it didn't feel "finished". This was because it was a first draft. By the time I sent my manuscript to my beta reader, it was around 126k.

6. The dumb stuff works

The title of the document for my first draft was "XXX - worst possible version" and at multiple points during the drafting process I changed the font to Comic Sans size 48. It works. Completely takes the pressure off and gives you full permission to write big, write silly, write unhinged, write mad things that you'll cut back by 90% later. But it gets it all on the page. If you're stuck or cringing at yourself in Times New Roman size 12, try Comic Sans size 48.

7. Don't compare your first draft to your favourite book

Like an idiot, I did this. I still find myself doing it. It's possibly my worst writing habit. I'll type out a page at 11pm after a full day at work and no dinner and then I'll pick up a published book and think "ah man, the page I've just written is nowhere NEAR as good as this." Published books are fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh drafts that then go through months and months of editing. Do not compare your manuscript to a published book. Just don't do it.

8. Don't try to be That Author

Good writers are good readers. Absolutely read broadly, read deeply, just read. Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, everything. And it's fine to find yourself influenced by other writers - that's how writing works. But don't try to BE other writers. One of the issues I had to unpick last year was that I was reading a lot of authors whose writing styles are very different to my own. I know my own style fairly well by this point - fanfiction's a great sandbox for figuring that out - but at certain moments during my editing phases I found myself cutting away at my prose because it felt "too different" to the books I was reading at the time. This was a weird thing for me to have done, and I went back and fixed it later.

I think what I'm trying to say with this one is: take inspiration from everywhere, let yourself be influenced by different writing styles, but find your own voice and trust it. Literature already has a Sally Rooney and a Donna Tartt and a Leigh Bardugo. It doesn't need a clone - it needs you!

I'll finish by sharing what I've found to be the most useful plotting template. This obviously isn't the total extent of my planning process by any means, but after trying about a million different plotting techniques for my first manuscript, this is the one:

The 27 chapter method (more examples here)

And finally, two little character tricks that I find invaluable:

AITAH?

Character philosophy

I hope someone out there finds something useful in this post! Although I've been writing in some capacity since I was a teenager, 2024 was definitely the year I realised that I am a writer at my core. I want to be a published author, but I'm already a writer. It brings me happiness like nothing else in the world! And I love to talk about all aspects of writing, so my ask box is always very much open.

Happy scribbling! x

[juustokaku]

Unzipped - Mingi x f!reader

Summary: Your new boyfriend Mingi wants to prove you he can be as sexy as San.

Genre: fluff, tries to be funny, jealous and insecure Mingi

Pairings: Mingi x f!reader

A/N: My best friend wanted me to write a fanfiction of Mingi, so I thought I'd share it here as well! Not that good, I wrote it in pretty short time, but at least my friend liked it <3 This has a brief mention of OnlyFans and flashers, but nobody in this is one!

Word count: 1 756

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mingi might have not remembered to lock the door when he left his apartment, or to take the food out of the oven, or even pay for the groceries until there were guards running up to him; but those were all insignificant things in life. The important thing was you. Everything else was only useless information in his eyes, but he wouldn’t forget any little detail about you, even if he tried to. 

That’s why he had quite a peculiar outfit on.  

As Mingi checked himself out from the mirror, his mind was tangled in anxious thoughts. Would you like how he looked? Would you think he was your type now? Would you burst out laughing at him? 

At the possibility of you making fun of his outfit, he pulled the leather jacket a little more over his bare chest, feeling insecure. He wasn’t used to dressing this revealingly, but the echo of your words was still clear in the little memory bank of his head. 

“Wow, San looks so sexy,” was what you had said five months ago, when you saw a picture the said man had posted on his Instagram. 

In Mingi’s opinion, San’s pictures seemed like they would fit better on OnlyFans. Or maybe he was just a tad too jealous at you calling San sexy. 

Mingi had deluded himself into thinking your type was sensual men in little to no clothing. Although you had started dating him a few weeks ago, stubbornly, he refused to forget your comment about San and believe he, his unique self, was your type. 

He took off the jacket and flexed his biceps, which were prominent and good-looking, but cringed at himself, noting that San’s muscles were even bigger. Mingi’s plans of showing you, how hard he had worked to be your ideal type, went down the drain; how could he compete against San? 

You wouldn’t like if Mingi arrived to the mall with a discouraged and depressed look on his face, so to get into a more energetic and happy mood for you, he started dancing to the music playing on his speakers while his tight, black pants almost ripped around his butt. Yes, it was that big. His greatest weapon at beating San. 

“I am sexy. I am Y/N’s ideal type. I am better than San and everyone,” Mingi tried to manifest. If he could say those things out loud, it was possible they’d come true as well. 

Apparently, universe hated him, because the moment you saw Mingi, you gasped in horror instead of awe. 

“Mingi! It’s way too cold for you to be out here without a shirt!” 

It was late autumn. Colorful leaves had left the trees long time ago, turned brown on the ground, and given space for the freezing wind to make fools like Mingi, who wanted to impress their girlfriends, shiver. 

The man pouted at your words, “I’m not cold. I was at the gym before this so I still feel hot.” 

Mingi felt a little bad about lying; he was indeed very cold, and he definitely hadn’t been at the gym. Instead of lifting weights he had tried to lift his own spirits up at home. 

“Besides, I have a jacket on,” he continued. 

A little chuckle escaped your lips despite your worry for Mingi’s health, “Hun, that means nothing if you keep the jacket unzipped.” 

“I can take the jacket completely off and show you that I don’t get cold,” Mingi suggested, already starting to take off his garment. A little hope flickered inside his chest, that with this excuse he could show his upper body, and you’d fall head over heels for him. He just couldn’t accept that you already loved him, just as how he was. 

“No, don’t do that! You’ll get sick.” 

You pulled the jacket back on him, the tips of your warm fingers brushing against his cold chest. He may have been freezing but your touch warmed his body, especially cheeks, up instantly. 

He would have rather worn his light pink sweater that would have matched the blush on his cheeks but he had hoped to impress you. But now, he had only managed to impress you with how stupid he had been to go out without a shirt. 

“Come. Let’s go buy you a shirt,” you pulled on the sleeve of Mingi’s jacket, to make him follow you inside the mall you had been standing in front of. Some teenagers had been snickering at the lack of Mingi’s clothing while older people gave him dirty looks. 

Mingi couldn’t care less about other people’s reactions, but when you pulled on the sleeve instead of his hand, he felt devastated. He had known this would happen; you hated his outfit so much, that you didn’t want to touch him anymore! 

He followed you into his favorite clothing store, overjoyed that you remembered what he liked. The love he had for you was so big, that every little thing you did to remind him you loved him too, made him almost want to jump around. He couldn’t do that though or his pants would surely rip. 

“Look at this shirt! This would suit you well,” you took a shirt with a picture of a duck on it out of the clothes rack to show Mingi. 

The shirt was absolutely adorable, but the man just shook his head. Deep in his heart, he wanted to throw the shirt on his body and feel comfortable and warm again, but he was not going to lose to San’s overflowing sexiness you seemed to love so much. Ducks and other cute things would be long gone, when Mingi finally emerged as a butterfly of sultriness from his casing. 

“It’s not sexy enough.” 

You frowned at Mingi’s words, “Is something wrong? You have started dressing in sexy clothes out of the blue, risking your health at the process.” 

Mingi puffed out his chest, “I’ve become a man.” 

“You’re 25 years old. You’ve been a man for quite a long time already.” 

At every word you said, Mingi’s felt himself deflate a little. Couldn’t you see how sexy he was now? He started feeling even more insecure in his choice of outfit. His jacket looked cheap and was way too thin to keep him warm. The pants felt too tight, like the blood circulation on his legs had been cut off, making him dizzy. 

“Can we eat something? My head’s spinning.” 

Your eyes softened at his soft plead, and you agreed. 

But even inside the small cafe at the mall, his behavior was odd. 

Oh, how hard Mingi tried to charm you. He just needed the reassurance that you found him more attractive than San. Any compliment would be better than your total ignorance of his diligent attempts to get your attention. 

"Mingi, stop undressing.” 

Mingi felt like crying at your words. He had just tried to take his jacket off to reveal his chest to you. Thinking it was a good excuse to take the piece of clothing off politely, when he had to sit down, he had been proved wrong. If he got a tattoo of your face on his chest, would that make you want to see him? It would have been actually very romantic in Mingi’s mind. Carrying your beautiful face on his chest, like it was the greatest masterpiece known to man, would be an honor. 

“You’re acting like a flasher. There are children here, you know?” you spoke in a hushed tone. You were both still sitting at the cafe, and it would ruin the atmosphere for everyone if you declared Mingi’s weird actions to the whole world. 

“B-But I just wanted to show you I can be sexy too...” Mingi murmured, looking down in shame. He had completely embarrassed himself in front of everyone, not to speak of the awkward feelings he had definitely caused you. 

The moment of silence, that followed his words, made him just more convinced that you hated his guts. There was no way you wouldn’t leave him right there and then.  

Even your confused voice didn’t make Mingi to raise his head. He didn’t want to see the disgust in your eyes. You surely thought he was repulsive and worst of all – not as sexy as San. 

“What makes you think I don’t see you as that?” 

“Five months ago, you called San’s picture sexy,” Mingi sighed sadly, “But you haven’t called me sexy at all.” 

He was almost offended as you laughed. It was not a mean laugh, but he still felt ridiculed and confused, because he didn’t know if you were amused by the stupidity of his jealousy or the possible inaccuracy of his insecurities. 

“Hun, I thought it was obvious that I think of you as sexy.” 

Mingi raised his head hopefully when he heard your words. 

“You’re the sexiest when you’re comfortable and not on the brink of freezing to death, no matter what clothes you wear,” you assured him, looking straight into his eyes with an amount of love that almost scared Mingi. 

He found new confidence at your words. They excited him, making him suddenly feel like he was the most attractive man on Earth, beating San’s muscles effortlessly. If you thought he was good-looking then surely, he had to be. 

An arrogant look crossed Mingi’s face. The way his other eyebrow raised almost as high as his ego and he smirked made him look like the ultimate chad – which was not as sexy as he probably thought it would be. Nevertheless, you didn’t tell that to him. 

“What if I want to keep using these clothes? They make me feel pretty... scrumptious,” Mingi chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“The pants look nice. They accentuate your butt well,” you decided to ignore his prideful attitude which had suddenly emerged. At least, he was happy now, and that was what mattered the most to you. 

“Oh yeah? You like my butt? I’ll give you a 360 view!” 

As Mingi jumped up from the chair in excitement, ready to turn around and show his body and outfit in all their glory, a loud sound of fabric ripping reached your ears.  

It was the sound of his tight pants having given up. Mingi had hoped to charm you with a revealing outfit, but the new state of his outfit might have been too revealing, as his boxers greeted the outside world happily from the rip on his pants. 

“Do you still want to give me that 360?” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thank you for reading!

[p0orbaby]

Request😍: y/n and alessia or leah (you decide! find your tumblr side and aaalll the stories of them. It leads to jealous alessia/leah bc of y/n being with other girls (like getting jealous when your partner cheats in your dream). Reader has to handle the situation and in the end manages to make less/leah focus on all the fluffy/spicy stuff there is about them. If you want to make it smutty (what we all love hehe): they eventually get inspired by tumblr and choose another story (you can decide which of all the good alessia/leah x reader smut on here) to reenact. Thank you!!! (If you dont want to write this feel free to repost for another writer, also you can switch the roles who is jealous, i dont care:)

i amended this a little, pls don’t hate me

it would be harsh to call this a crack fic but i honestly giggled the whole time writing it 🤭

-

You find Alessia on the sofa, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. At first, you think she’s watching one of those oddly specific TikToks she loves—something about cats playing table tennis or an American teenager ranking their favourite crisps. But then you notice the furrow in her brow, the way her teeth tug at her bottom lip. Her expression is equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mild offence.

“Everything alright?” you ask, setting your keys on the counter.

She doesn’t answer immediately, which is a bad sign. Alessia always greets you the moment you walk through the door, even if it’s just to ask what you’ve brought for dinner. Instead, she tilts the phone slightly so you can see the screen.

“Do you know about this?” she asks, voice clipped.

You lean over, squinting at the screen. The webpage is clunky, its layout straight out of 2012, and the title reads something absurd like ‘Sunlit Smiles and Shadowed Hearts’. Your name is prominently featured in the summary, alongside a few other recognisable ones.

“It’s fanfiction,” she says, answering the question you haven’t asked yet. “About you”

You blink. “About me?”

“And other people,” she adds, her tone sharp now, like the edge of a too-clean knife.

The penny drops. “Wait—what?”

She sits up straighter, turning the phone to face you fully. “Look. This one has you with… God, Tooney. And this one—oh, this is just brilliant—you’re married to Ona. Married! Like we’re just some passing fling”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, which, given her expression, would be a tactical error. Alessia doesn’t do jealousy often, but when she does, it’s like an overdramatic romcom villain plotting their revenge.

“Well,” you say carefully, “at least they’ve got good taste?”

“Good taste?” she repeats, incredulous. “One of these has you sneaking off with Mary behind my back during a post-match interview!”

“Creative, though,” you offer.

She glares at you, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny,” you say, sitting down next to her.

“It’s not,” she insists, crossing her arms. “Do you know how many of these there are? And how many don’t have me in them at all? Like I’m just some side character in your life?”

You try to suppress the grin tugging at your lips, but it’s no use. “Less, you do realise this is all made up, right? None of it’s real”

She huffs, her cheeks pink now. “I know that. But still. It’s insulting”

You reach for her hand, gently uncrossing her arms. “Alright, let’s look at it this way. I’m obviously very popular. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not when you’re popular with everyone except me”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure there’s stuff about us too. The fluffy, romantic, borderline inappropriate kind”

Alessia hesitates, her gaze flicking to the phone. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you say confidently. “Because we’re the superior couple. Clearly”

That earns a small smile, though she tries to hide it. “You’re an idiot”

“And yet, here I am, fully committed to proving my devotion,” you say, reaching for her phone. You type in a search, scrolling through pages until you find what you’re looking for. “See? Right here. This one’s about us”

She leans over, peering at the screen. Her eyes scan the words, and slowly, her frown starts to fade.

“This is… cute,” she admits reluctantly.

“Exactly,” you say, draping an arm around her shoulders. “So, no more being jealous of fictional versions of me, okay? They don’t get to go home with you. I do”

She turns to look at you, her expression softening further. “Fine. But I’m still not over the Mary thing”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Noted. I’ll make it up to you”

“You better,” she mumbles, but there’s no real bite to her words anymore.

It’s only later, as you’re cooking dinner together, that you catch her sneaking glances at her phone again, her lips twitching with the beginnings of a smile. If she’s reading more of those stories, you don’t mention it. Some battles are better left unpicked.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Can I request a fic where Astarion reacts to GN!Reader who always helps him but refuses to accept his propositions please?

 CW: Dead Dove- for the people who can’t think for themselves and make a decision, no I am not adding specifics to my tags and I don’t have to. You know what game you are playing and you know Astarion’s back story. Put on your big kid pants and get over yourself- if the worst thing that happened to you today was that a fanfiction had a vague CW (which is also not a requirement for anything, it’s common courtesy. You don’t see CW on every book with dark themes, do you?) then you have a pretty damn good life. I’m not paid to write these fanfictions- if you want me to change how I tag things, then start sending me money or 🖕🏻 your bitching isn’t welcome here

I hope you enjoy!

Astarion doesn’t know much about freedom and normal sexual relationships. In fact, he doesn’t know shit about normal relationships period. His entire world is people taking advantage of his body and his lack of freedom- hands scraping at his skin and taking from him.

 You, on the other hand, have thwarted every attempt he has made to please you sexually. 

 You roll your eyes at his pick up lines and his nicknames, you flirt back, but you never take it further when he asks. He asked you to spend time with him in his tent the night before- his plans to seduce you had been destroyed when you brought Lanceboard, he tried to get you to put it away, you suggested he is afraid to lose, and he had to prove that he is definitely not afraid to play Lanceboard with anyone! Especially you- who he was certain he could beat. It ended up being five draws and you won at the end, but it was the most fun he has had in a long time. 

  It’s been three weeks of traveling and his plan to wrap you around his pinkie finger has gone abysmally. Yet- you keep helping him. 

 You aided him in killing the Gur, give him blood as he needs it and make sure everyone knows you support and trust him. The rest of them have the right idea not to, but it warms something deep within him to know you genuinely do trust him. It shouldn’t- you are a means to an end. 

 And yet- here he is, sitting next to you at the campfire and just enjoying your company as you tell him about one of your many adventures before you were swiped up.

 You, the busy body of the group, are exceptionally well traveled and you have been telling Astarion about all the places he needs to see- Evereska, Neverwinter, Althkalta, Waterdeep, Candlekeep- the list goes on and on. 

 Astarion swears he could listen to you talk forever and then some, but it also makes him feel poorly about himself. 

 He has absolutely nothing to offer outside of sex and yet, here you are, offering to take him all around Toril at the end of this journey. 

 “Why?”

“Why what?” You look stunned by his sudden disruption, “why do the people of Daggerford like Cheddar over Mozerrella? I’m honestly not-“

“No- why do you want me to stick around?” His voice comes out more harshly than he intended, “you refuse every proposition I have given you- I haven’t even begun to show off my usefulness and-“

“Usefulness?”

 His eyes snap to yours and you look sad- heartbroken even. Astarion doesn’t need your pity! He doesn’t need more from you when he has already taken so much.

“Well of course,” he scoffs, “you provide me with food- literally- and you talk to me all the time and you spend time with me and ask me what I like and about me-

“And you always help me,” he says uneasily, “and you never ask for anything in return.”

 The silence feels defeaning. 

“I really like you, Astarion,” you say softly, “and I know the importance of finding one’s self and Cazador stole that from you. I also know you think the only positive thing about you is sex and that’s why I refuse to have it with you.

“If- if we have sex,” you look away, embarrassed and red in the face, “I want it to be because we both genuinely want to and we want to enjoy each other. You don’t owe me anything for my kindness, Astarion, I told you we would get this figured out together that day on the beach and I meant it.

“And if you never return my feelings,” you say quickly, “I entirely understand and that is okay too- I would still love to show you the entire world if you want to continue traveling with me after all of this,” you wave your hands wildly, “has been taken care of because you’re my friend- I hope you may consider me yours one day too.” 

 Your smile is so beautiful and sweet. He could fall into you forever and then some. 

 It takes him and you by surprise when he leans forward and leaves a hesitant peck against your lips. 

“I- I would really like to travel with you,” he whispers, “a-and consider your feelings and friendship returned.”