#the power of fanfiction COMPELS ME..........

[fruti2flutie]

fanfic title cards (2024)

happy new year!! i had a spontaneous burst of inspiration at the end of 2024 to pick up handlettering, which... wow, it's really been a while. can't remember the last time i picked up my sketchbook!! i'm pretty much only reading skz fic these days, when i have the time & energy, and i found comfort in so many of them. these were fics that stood out to me & i thought about a lot. sketching these out was so fun, and writing the excerpts by hand really made me practice patience LOL

anyway. idk if i'll do any more any time soon, but!!! maybe in the future. i really loved all of these 🥺🥺🥺

here's the original thread posted on twitter as well tagging the writers :)

Matters of the Heart by 8BitSkeleton – minchan, T

A business arrangement. That's what they'd agreed to call it. As a doctor, Minho knew that ignoring Chan's diagnosis was a surefire way to complicate his disease, to play with his life. So, when Chan had brought up proposing to his partner for their insurance, and when he’d come back with a clear ‘no’, Minho couldn’t just let him walk out of the hospital without a plan. That’s how they’d ended up at the courthouse with a witness and no rings, just a signature and a handshake to seal the deal. A business arrangement. That's all it is.

or: minho and chan get married, but only for practical reasons. at least, that's what minho tells himself.

holy theory by gift — binsung, E

He swipes his pointer over the smudge to get rid of it, but the flesh gives easily, the pad of his finger dipping shallowly into it. Not a spot or a mark. Not a blemish. A hole. His eyes travel from the hole to his face, studying his features, his unshaven chin and upper lip, his heavy eyes, the dark circles. A stray eyelash sticks to his cheek. He glances back down and runs his finger over the spot again, feeling it give, feeling it twitch.

Jisung wakes up with a hole in his chest. It may or may not have something to do with the desire he has for his roommate.

Two Bros by velooscuro – binchan, E

Chan stops and takes stock of his situation. What decisions have led him to this exact position, straddling his best friend’s lap, having his nipples experimentally toyed with?

Wherein the road from bromance to romance is an extremely slippery slope.

sweet tangerine by bulletbulletbullet – minchan, E

When Minho looks up from the sink, Chan is watching him. He flushes when Minho catches him looking, but he doesn’t look away. “Are you okay?” Chan nods, but it’s delayed, like he’s starting to slip deeper into his rut. Minho can smell him over the bright lemon scent of the dish soap, and it makes his teeth hurt a little, makes him crave another cup of coffee. “I think,” Chan says, and then he stops himself. Minho rinses his hands off and turns off the water, reaching for a towel. “I think I’d like to hold you now, if that’s okay.”

Minho's a beta who works for a company that provides rut companionship for single alphas. Chan's an alpha in rut. What could possibly go wrong?

in every season by fireemblem – 2min, T

“You have a crush on Chan, then?” Minho asks, head tilting.

The question catches Seungmin off guard, even if he knows he’s probably teasing.

“I…,” he starts, blush creeping up his neck as Minho continues staring at him, waiting for an answer. Maybe he was serious. “No, I don’t.”

Minho hums. “Yeah. I am more your type anyway.”

Sanctuary by coley_merrin – minchan, T

When Minho moves to a new town to teach, he meets a group of seven people outside of town who are deemed outcast.

at least i've got you in my head by afterthedisco – hyunsung, T

“You and Jeongin’ve been dating for three years,” Hyunjin moans one night to Seungmin, sniffling into his glass of rosé. He’s coming down from the emotional trauma of a hookup that ended with Hyunjin getting canceled on by not one, but two Ubers as he waited out on the cold curb in his sluttiest miniskirt. The guy hadn’t even offered a coat to cover Hyunjin’s shivering bare shoulders. “That’s three years longer than I’ve ever been in a relationship. And I love that for you, you and your fruity little promise rings and all that, but when will it be my turn?”

“Hyunjin. Maybe you’re looking for something you aren’t going to find in someone else,” Seungmin says, too wise for someone drunk off just a few sips of his own glass of wine.

And that sounds pretty accurate, but it also sounds like a lot of fucking work. Hyunjin would rather find his second half and call it a day before even thinking about embarking on the mortifying journey of loving himself first.

Enter Han Jisung: Charming, talented, kind, hot - and straight.

-- Hyunjin likes to think himself a hopeless romantic, but maybe the truth of it is that he's just hopeless.

summer child by mortals – minchan, T

Flowers grow where Minho walks. It's not all it's cracked up to be.

---

“You’re easily… the best person in the forest,” Chan attempts, bravely.

The canopy of leaves rustles gently above them, and there is the distant call of an owl. Minho waits to see if Chan will see what's wrong with his statement– but no further words come.

“Chan, I’m the only other person in the forest,” Minho says, patiently.

the blood on your lies by inkin_brushes – chanlix, hyunsung, seungbin, minjeong, E

It’s desperation that drives Felix to place himself at the mercy of someone he has no right to expect kindness from. Six months on the street with his funds running low, if one of his father’s men doesn’t kill him then the oncoming winter will. Going to Chan is a decided risk, he might put a bullet in Felix's skull instead of taking on the job he's offering, but— well. At least that death will be quick.

But Chan doesn’t kill him. He gives Felix shelter, gives him a home. And Felix finds himself in way too deep with a man who doesn’t even fully know who he’s falling for.

amor fati by ohhennyhenny – minchan, E

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, and he sets down his glass. “If you knew there was a truth spell on the wine, then why did you drink it?” “I don’t have much to hide,” Minho says. “And I’ve always wanted to try this wine.” Brow still crinkled, Chan continues to stare at Minho. “Who are you?” “I’m Lee Minho.” He says this with the most deadpan voice he can muster. Chan snorts. “You know, I asked around about you.” “Like actually asked around? You didn’t just go on Naver?” “Naver? What’s—” Chan shakes his head. “Never mind that. They said that you run the best magic shop in the city, that you’re smart and reliable, but that you’re also hard to predict.” “We also ship worldwide,” Minho adds.

Minho captures the interest of the king of demons. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Wormwood and Garlic by AbstractKittens – minchan, E

“You’ll sooner find me dead than having werewolves on my street!” – Lee Minho, age 325, vampire

A small pack of werewolves move in next door to a trio of unfriendly vampires. The vampires are not pleased.

neko-ya by dwaekkiss – minbin, T

Changbin gets hexed into a cat and Minho takes care of him.

Alternatively, that one fic where Changbin is Minho’s fourth cat.

case study by pietrotheclown – chansung, E

That’s how most of his life feels, where Jisung is concerned. Like Jisung appeared one day. Didn’t even move in—Chan just blinked, and there Jisung was. Seventeen years of him. The figurine collection above his bed. His favorite spoon with the plastic hamster handle. The park they used to go to and Chan’s friends complaining about him always bringing his brother along until Chan found new ones who didn’t care. Homemade kongnamulguk for dinner and peach gummies from the corner store for dessert. Shared hobbies. Shared graduation gowns. Shared alma maters. Jisung’s jacket in Chan’s backseat. Jisung’s fingers twined in Chan’s shirt.

Or: Chan gives in to his step-brother—and himself.

[rocketinthesky]

Bite Me

-A CarCar vague-high school/college au(?) one-shot, Rated Teen and Up, Enemies who Kiss? Inspired heavilyyy by Sumi’s lovely fanart so everyone please check it out!

-read on ao3

Oscar has had enough.

Now it’s fucking war, the only thing on his mind blood.

It’s the fourth time stupid-Spanish-meathead-Sainz has shoved him against his locker between class break in the day. Four fucking times! Oscar’s human, he’s made of flesh and bone, and said flesh and bone hurt very fucking much when constantly colliding with metal.

That stupid meathead in his stupid football (the European kind) jersey cackles loudly as he walks away, an exasperated Charles shaking his head beside him while he throws Oscar an apologetic frown.

Oscar seethes, balling his fists at his sides so hard he thinks the knuckles might pop out, jaw clenched as he fails to hide his reaction.

Carlos stops just a few meters ahead, doesn’t turn around but twists his head to the side and casts Oscar an ingratiating glance through his eyelashes.

“Baboso.”

Now, Oscar doesn’t know a word of Spanish outside of ‘hola’, but he can pick up on context clues and comprehend that he’s definitely just been insulted.

Normally, Oscar wouldn’t rise to the provocation. He would throw Sainz a nasty sneer, grab his backpack and stomp away to his next class at a very normal pace.

However—Oscar’s already been having a shit day. His English professor just handed them a ten page assignment, his Bio professor assigned a group work and paired him with possibly the last people on earth he’d want to work on anything with, and he accidentally spilled coffee on his white t-shirt during lunch break.

He’s already at his breaking point and four shoves against the locker by none other than the sadistic bastard Carlos Sainz who only wanted nothing more than to see Oscar suffer has tipped him off the proverbial edge.

At least that’s the only explanation Oscar has for why he stomps up to Carlos, teeth bared in anger as Carlos looks unfazed and simply turns around to fully face him—waiting.

It all happens a little too fast—Oscar fisting Carlos’s collars and shoving him back with enough force that it trips him up too, Sainz’s back hitting the nearest locker, eyes wide in shock. Oscar himself is a little shocked, mostly winded—a tad exhilarated—at having done this.

Carlos looks at him, eyes impossibly big from this close. Oscar’s never noticed how long his lashes are until there’s a few centimetres separating them.

Oscar’s breathing wildly now, and he’s not exactly sure if it’s all from the anger. Carlos’s breaths seem to come short, labored, surprise twisting into anger the longer Oscar holds him up against the lockers. Oscar relishes in dragging a reaction out of him—anything other than that infuriating smugness he always seems to carry.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing, Piastri?” Carlos nearly growls, hands coming up to wrap around Oscar’s wrists still gripping Carlos’s collar.

The snarl on his face shouldn’t look like…that. It shouldn’t be sending a shiver down Oscar’s spine, the way they’re so close, the way Carlos’s big hands feel like brands where they circle around Oscar’s wrists in a crushing grip.

Oscar falters, tries not to show it, but he must give enough away because in the blink of an eye he’s spun around and shoved up against the locker, back colliding painfully with metal, their positions flipped.

“Carlos, just let him go.” Charles says tiredly from somewhere behind Carlos, but Oscar can’t see him, his field of vision just Carlos—all his senses overwhelmed with the scent of Carlos, the heat of his skin still wrapped around his wrists, the fire in his eyes burning through Oscar’s soul as his breath wafts against Oscar’s face.

“He started it.” Carlos bites back at Charles, still looking straight into Oscar’s eyes.

Oscar tries not to cave in on himself but it’s hard to stand tall with Carlos looming right over him. He’s never noticed how broad he is. They’re about the same height but Carlos manages to look much taller, thick neck curving into broad shoulders. Oscar has the rattling urge to touch them, feel the muscles strain against his grip.

“You shoved me first, Sainz. Four fucking times.” Oscar spits out instead, alarmed at the direction his own thoughts are veering.

They’re both breathing faster now, so close Oscar can almost feel the rise and fall of Carlos’s thick chest against his own.

Fuck him.

Carlos sneers, and Oscar’s hands flex where they’re still gripping Carlos’s collar, unwilling to let go unless Carlos does first.

The expression crawls under Oscar’s skin as if it’s a living thing, burrowing into his flesh and tightening his grip on Carlos’s jersey when Carlos says with levity, “Was just a friendly pat, cabron. It is not my fault you are so weak.”

Carlos’s eyes are glinting with challenge, with mockery, leaning even more into Oscar’s space, and Oscar can’t hold back anymore, can barely process his movements before he feels his lips sting with the force at which he clashes into Carlos.

Carlos makes a surprised sound in his throat, stilling under Oscar’s grip for a split second before his hold on Oscar’s wrists tighten impossibly, kissing Oscar back in earnest.

He distantly hears a squeak—probably Charles—but is too consumed by the plushness of Carlos’s lips, the way he kisses ravenously, all teeth and tongue and dominance.

Oscar can barely keep up, melts in his arms like putty when Carlos lets go of his wrists to instead grip his sides, fingers digging hard enough into his waist that Oscar thinks he might leave bruises.

The fact that they’re very much out in the open, hundreds of other students passing them by, watching the spectacle they’re putting on, is completely irrelevant to Oscar. He moans at a particular swipe of Carlos’s tongue over his palate, bites down on Carlos’s bottom lip and revels in the groan it pulls out.

One of his hands travel from Carlos’s jersey up his neck and into his hair, threading his fingers into the thick locks and pulling.

The kiss is as violent and all-consuming and as hot as Oscar would expect from Carlos.

“Oi, Osc, show me the assignment for Mr. Vettel’s cla—”

Lando stops dead in his approach when he looks up from his phone and finds Oscar and Carlos tangled up in each other. He balks, blinking a few times to check whether he’s seeing clearly or not. He turns his head slowly to Charles who is standing next to him, face twisted in disgust.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Charles shrugs. “Speaks for itself, I think.”

Lando barks out a laugh, a little hysterical. “I knew they’d get here eventually. Just didn’t think it’d be so…public.”

Charles bites back a laugh, patting Lando on the shoulder. “Let’s just leave them alone. I am about to puke if i watch them for long.”

Lando shrugs. “Coffee?”

Charles grins. “My treat.”

Neither Oscar nor Carlos hear any bit of the exchange as they keep kissing, only broken when a professor passing by interrupts them with a pointed cough.

“Gentlemen, I believe classes for the next period have begun?”

They jolt away from each other as if burnt. Oscar looks at Carlos, the way his pupils are blown wide, face a bright red, lips swollen and spit-slick.

He looks ruined—Oscar can’t imagine he looks much better himself.

Omggg i had so much fun writing this IM STILL GOING FERAL OVER @kolbalissh ‘s art guys SUMI UR SO TALENTED AND CRAZY FOR GIVING ME THESE BRAINWORMS AHHH ANYWAYS I HOPE THIS DRABBLE-TURNED-ONE SHOT DOESN’T DISAPPOINT 😭😭

[triflesandtea]

Incorrect Quotes from Defaced, as Inspired by @inkinary

Marcus, staring at an injured Sherlock Holmes: Pardon me, Mr. Holmes, but I did not expect to perceive you in...such a state. I came here for your help in defeating the remainder of Professor Moriarty's men. Holmes: And I came here for a trifle of quiet and tranquility. We can't all get what we desire.

[queer-in-a-cornfield]

I got so annoyed with my math homework today that I decided to try and write with my calculator (cause it has buttons that can write letters) and I wrote 219 WORDS DJEJWKXKWBNCBR

HOW TF DID I DO THAT LIKE WHAT

[mangled-by-disuse]

so one of the things that annoys me endlessly is this phenomenon where, when I say I like something, people assume that means I want more of it, a different version of it, add-ons and bells and whistles, and i'm just like

no.

no, when I say I like tea, I mean I like tea. Not herbal tisanes, not "tea with--", no milk, no sugar, no fruit, no frills, just good-quality tea in a range of fermentations and colours.

when I say I like a hot bath, I mean the bath. Not bubble-bath, not bath oils and foams and salves and unguents, not candlelight and music and a zen space to sensually relax with a book and a glass of wine, just a hot bath in a normally-lit bathroom where I can unwind and get clean.

when I say I like beer, I mean I like beer. Not fruit-flavoured, not with a special something-something added, for the love of GOD not sweetie-flavoured, just a well-brewed ale or stout in a simple pint glass, in good company.

and that isn't because there's anything WRONG with the add-ons! these are not bad things! I know that for some people, a tea advent calendar with different herbal blends, or a luxurious foamy scented bath with candles and music, is what they mean by "I like tea" and "I like baths". but it would just be nice if when I asked for a green tea, people didn't assume I mean "with..."

anyway this post is about lord of the rings: war of the rohirrim

[neo--queen--serenity]

When I reblogged this last month this was what I’d put in the tags:

And…well…*adds clown shoes to cart*

kbms dump! you can tell that. im very crazy about them....

[careless-with-your-heart]

The absolute naughty gymnastics it is taking to keep these two from the real deal is delighting me.

[shuenkio]

益⁠—15 minutes I 제이

𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Jay!idol X M!idol reader

𝖲𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌: Accident skin contact on stage can lead to something spicier? When he beg to—

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: Smut with plot. 𝖢𝖶: Smau.

𝖭𝗈𝗇 𝖯𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 | 𝖤𝗇𝗀 is not my first

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

In the blink of an eye, The end of the year appears once again. And in this K-pop industry, wherein every year they'd celebrate, filled the stage with the groups. Yet with everyone's expectations, they'll always have collaboration stages with many groups and even duos from the same group too that spark the fans with thrilled and excited to see their performance.

With the start of the group called "Enhypen", it happened to have a collaboration stage too with the members — "M/n" and "Jay" the powerful duo which everyone didn't expect to have them on stage together, just the two them, two of the most talented members and underrated.

However that's not enough to make the supporters drool in excitement, one to another since the song that both of them are going to perform was "That Boy is mine" By Ariana grande. The fandom went insanely crazy to their own mankind when they learned that no female idol in this, with only M/n and Jay — Due to how small frame M/n was, Jay get to be the masculine role on stage— you know how it is ;)

Moving on to the stage, both of the members didn't know how their popularity was that great to have such a loud screaming and cheering from the crowd even the other fans are glowing like a red flame, burst their lung out to their limit, ruining their vocal dry— it's just them rehearsal.

It was marvelous, the way M/n express the lyrics by the dance steps, letting out his inner zesty taken over, didn't get to hesitate to do justice to the song's owner— his body are like jelly and flexible, carry on elegant moves which roughly pushing Jay on the verge to lose control right in fronts of the audiences who are enraptured, jumping happily such could cause earthquakes.

The moment the final note echoed into silence, the crowd exploded. Cheers and screams reverberated through the air, deafening, as if the entire universe had collapsed into that one breathless moment. Hands raised high, voices raw with joy—everyone was in awe. They were not just applauding, they were celebrating the impossible, the breathtaking, the unforgettable. It wasn’t just a performance. It was a triumph, and the world knew it. The best duo — M/n and Jay ending their performance with the pose of the latter's one limp up on Jay's hip, as Jay support it. On the other hand, belt M/n's waist with his powerful grips.

"you're a monster M/n, you earned yourself the greatest reward"

"How come— we did great don't just credit only I"

The duo exchange a small chatting, keep it steady in the pose, while waiting for the ending fairy and the live shooting to end.

Unbeknownst to M/n and the fans, the distance between them were too close that Jay's crotch brush again M/n's lower butt cloth— yet even M/n, himself didn't realize. He was catching an act, interact with the audiences. The taller compelled the sensation, flooded through him as their skin brushed lightly... closeness between them, making him feel a warmth he couldn’t ignore, underneath his leather pants, which is grown to something they could recognize instantly but Jay manages to unfold it.

"This has been ENHYPEN M/n And Jay— Thanks you"

///

"Please, Chaewoo, please let me fuck you. I need to be inside you so fucking badly."

He sits up slightly, yanking his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. His muscular chest is revealed, lean and defined, with small, dark nipples that are already stiff with arousal.

"Please, baby," Jay begs, his voice cracking with desperation. "I'm going crazy thinking about splitting your tight little ass open on my huge cock. Please please I've been holding on for the past few weeks— please"

"I want to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll be feeling me for days. Please, M/n, let me fucking wreck you. I'm so fucking desperate for it."

Jay's hands slide down to your ass, kneading and squeezing the firm globes. He pulls them apart, exposing your tight, puckered hole underneath the fabric even more.

Seeing his eagerness to want it, you nod slightly, as a sign of giving him enough permission to fuck you right here, in the guest waiting room.

"We need to be quick— 15 minutes at ease Ah-" your eyes widen in surprise as he wraps his muscles arms around your hips and pulls you into a passionate, desperate kiss. He makes a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, his lips moving urgently against yours as the kiss deepens. His cock throbs and pulses between your legs, the massive, veiny shaft already leaking precum and soaking through his pants.

Jay practically tears your panties off without hesitation, in his haste to get to your ass, the flimsy fabric ripping away easily under his strength. He shoves his leather pants down just enough to free his huge, throbbing cock, and before you can blink, he's positioning the fat head at your entrance.

"Fuck, I can't wait," he growls, his voice strained with desperation.

"I need to be inside you, NOW."

With one brutal, powerful thrust, Jay slams his massive cock deep into your ass, splitting you open around his thick shaft. Yours breath began to be uneven, heaving and chasing for the right tempo—He's so big that he's halfway inside you before you even realize what's happening, your tight walls stretching obscenely to accommodate his girth.

"Oh FUCK!" Jay roars, his head thrown back, his face a mask of raw, primal ecstasy.

"So fucking tight, M/n. So fucking perfect."

He starts to move, his hips pumping furiously as he hilts himself fully inside you, with a pulsing visible on your lower belly. His heavy balls slap against your crook with each powerful thrust, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside your gripping heat.

"Take it, baby," he snarls, sweat dripping down his face as he fucks into you hard and fast. Tried hard with variety fucking position to get himself, bury deeper than the bottom of the ocean that turning you into a fucking toy— moaning out with lustful pleasure.

He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as he rails your ring mascule ruthlessly. The pain mingles with the intense pleasure radiating from your core, the dual sensations driving you wild. Jay's unique musk invades your senses, his scent of sweat, arousal and pure, unchecked masculinity filling the air of the small space.

"Fuck, I'm not going to last long," Jay pants harshly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending climax.

"You feel too fucking good, M/n. I'm going to pump you so fucking full of cum, baby. Gonna fill this tight butt YUCK"

He flips you over onto your hands and knees, slamming back into your abused entrance from behind with even more force. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, his cockhead kissing your prostate with every brutal thrust. The headboard slams against the wall with the force of his fucking, the room filling with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your desperate moans.

As he chases his rapidly approaching orgasm. His muscular body is slick with sweat, the beads of moisture dripping down onto your back as he fucks into you with wild abandon

"Shit, Chaewoo... I can't... I'm gonna fucking..." Jay's words dissolve into a guttural roar as his orgasm finally overtakes him. His cock swells even thicker inside you, before exploding, painting your inner walls with thick, hot ropes of his pent-up seed.

"FUCK!" Jay bellows, slamming into you one last time, hilting himself as deep as possible as he rides out the intense waves of his climax. His cock pulses and jerks inside your ass, pumping you full of his heavy load, just as he promised.

"uehjhnummm f- fifteen .... Minutes...."

"Thank you for your collaboration my love"

"Fuck...it...💦"

XD

A/n: to my special anon asked— there are 2 more requests but I think I'll probably doing only one more :'( it's take a lot of work to make this but this one is my favorite for this time being, feedbacks are free.

[elanorpam]

it's been way too long since i last did wildly self-indulgent fanart, so of course i did it for an SVSSS AU that doesn't even have any actual fanfiction written of it yet. but what can i say! it's a compelling scenario! Just check the original post for details!

here's a workplace doodle for his mess of an outfit, too:

Xin Mo is floating behind his back, wrapped in talismans. the collars are meant to be vaguely inspired on a flower bud.

Some notes i came up with for this version, copied straight from a month-old discord convo:

he may have protagonist halo now, but he's for sure not a stallion protagonist. he literally exchanged fates with his favorite person in the world in order to spare them a hellish trial-- that's romantic as fuck!! damn!! this is old CLAMP shoujo and no mistake!!

binghe may no longer be the protag, but he's still a half-heavenly demon. power-wise, heavenly demons can't be topped, and all the remaining heavenly demons are accounted for. so, SQQ can't be a heavenly demon, even in part.

HOWEVER, as a protagonist, there's a factor more important than power! it's the CHUUNI FACTOR. what's more CHUUNI™️ than being part demon?

one option is being part demon and part angel.

how would that even fucking work??????? IDK man, you can either pull from chinese folklore for fairies or heavenly beings or spirits, or you can blame Airplane and go "he accidentally implied the existence of christian elements by means of importing unexamined anime tropes"

Shen Jiu conveniently has a big fat blank on his parentage. We as fans can and have put whatever the hell we wanted there.

SQQ would jump into the abyss still under the impression SJ was a shallow villain. If his trip through the abyss involves recovering SJ's memories somehow, that sure would be fun times, huh?

so he awakens a mysterious ancestry and survives the abyss and takes Xin Mo, but he probably takes longer than Binghe did due to being squishier.

but Xin Mo isn't ACTUALLY his! so he papers it over with sealing talismans, and to battle the temptation to wield it he takes to wearing these longass sleeves. they're probably covered in talismans as well.

guessing Xiu Ya stayed behind to be mooned over by the clown trio in Cang Qiong. let's go full sparkle-sue here and say he's now fighting almost entirely via musical cultivation. i like swan-necked konghou harps so let's go with that, it'll look dope.

why is he barefoot? why WOULDN'T he be, is the question. fragile!! suffering!! dainty!! he's a shrinking flower, tormented by the weight of the One Sword To Rule Them All!!

also for extra pathos, his constant mental struggle against Xin Mo means he can't spare energy to front. it takes constant focus! he's still a bit in his delusional shit, but even when he's going "oh no, binghe is only latched throat-deep onto my dick because he's a good boy who's concerned about me and the danger i could pose by losing control" he'd probably… well, he'd probably say that out loud to anyone who asked. he's in a half-trance, mentally battling the crazy-making sword. lying is too much work.

Wouldn’t resisting Xin Mo’s influence be the mental and spiritual equivalent to training under 400x gravity or something? his wife-beam is going to be off the charts when he puts it down.

also also: who the hell dressed him like that? fucking shang qinghua, of course, after SQQ showed up in the northern palace to punish MBJ for hurting binghe in the conference. did the system explain shit to SQH? on the one hand, extremely funny if it updates him on the role change out of nowhere mid-alliance. on the other hand, extremely funny if he only finds out because Binghe is crying safely in Qing Jing while the scum villain apparently jumped into the abyss.

Here's another link to the original AU post! I've had it open on a tab all this time just so i could point to it when I was done, so make sure to check it out!

[kittyit]

one of the very offputting and indigestible things about a lot of modern media is the pivot to the quality being the same experience as reading fanfiction. I've only read a little fanfiction in my life, and of course, there are always stand outs in fan works. But I feel everyone can know what I mean when I say it's like reading fanfiction. And I feel like it's a spectrum. For example, right now I'm rereading Hench, and I would say there is a distinctly fanfiction flavor to the work, in that I can tell the author has read a lot of fanfiction, I can clearly guess at some of their favorite tags and tropes, the taste of fanfiction is in my mouth. However, the work itself is compelling enough, the characters flushed out an interesting enough, and the story inviting enough that I am able to bear it with grace. This is like the middle of the spectrum. The far end of the spectrum is when reading a book is exactly like reading a fanfiction (term for this? If the other is flavor...) It's all trope. it's cheap and unearned. It's shallow. It's enjoyable mostly to people who read a lot of fanfiction because it does exactly the same thing. Fanfiction flavored is sometimes tolerable to me, but I resent it, especially when the tropes are paraphilias and fetishes in disguise, but not only then. It's distasteful. And more and more new books and TV series and movies are further and further on the spectrum of how much like fanfiction they feel, how clearly they are made by creators who grew up in fandom, "living and breathing fandom". And because fanfiction-adjacent creations are stripped down to the most appealing and easily accessible plot points and paths, characters & emotions for a fandom-steeped or fandom-ready (innocent) audience, they sell well, they test well with test audiences, they make money. I just routinely see the idea that fandom is basically a free space, it's not hurting anyone everyone's having fun, why do we need to be critical of this? And it's like well it's profoundly transforming the entertainment industry, which profoundly transforms what media people grow up on which is certainly something worth thinking about. And media literacy is a term that's now reached internet driven semantic satiation and become a meme. Instead of something that is important to moving through the world and a practice you can develop your entire life. And I hate how defensive everyone gets about this. I have no power to take away your fandom. I just want think critically and deeply about this like any other social phenomenon.

[thestrangepoet]

The Furrcinating Adventures of Champion, the Archives Cat | The Magnus Archives Fanfiction | Ch 1/?

Based on @ultramarinaa’s Cat!Martin AU 

CONTENT WARNINGS: None

DISCLAIMER: As per usual, this is an unedited first draft that I haven’t proofread. Forgive any typos and roughness around the edges – I tend not to go back over fanfics, as they’re just a bit of fun writing for me. (I am a full-time professional writer, and if I start telling myself I need to edit and proofread my fanfics, it’ll cease being fun for me.)

This is chapter one of…I don’t know. I may continue if enough people are enjoying it.  Next Chapter →

──── •✧• ────

Oh God, Martin thought to himself as fur began to emerge from under his skin, covering newly reshaped limbs and hiding sharp claws from sight, Jon’s going to be so mad at me!

Oh no, Martin panicked as blunt teeth gave way to pointed canines, this is so unprofessional of me! 

Only then did Martin allow the terrible question to enter his mind – what was he becoming? 

He should have known better than to pick up an unfamiliar book lying around in the archives of the Magnus Institute, the academic home of research into the paranormal and esoteric. At the very least, if he was going to pick it up, he should have done so only to tidy it away. Why he had felt compelled to open the tome and sneak a peek inside, he couldn’t say. 

As the world around him lurched into a new angle, Martin could only think about the presentation his boss had delivered a few weeks prior. 

Obviously, you shouldn’t be dealing directly with any artefacts of note, Jon had said dryly, tapping the large screen behind him that showed countless examples of seemingly mundane objects. We have a department for that for a reason. However, it’s not unusual for one or two to slip through the cracks; particularly books, given the extensive nature of our library. If you should check out a book as part of your research and you see the name ‘Leitner’ involved in any capacity, do not read the book. Put it down immediately. Martin, that goes double for you – if you even think the word ‘Leitner’ near a book, I want you to turn around immediately and walk back to your desk – do you understand? 

Had he seen the name ‘Leitner’ in this book? There had been a torn bookplate in the front, and maybe the remaining letters had been ‘ner’...

Did it matter? He was paying for his stupidity now, Martin thought. All fur and claws and fangs, and oh, what hideous monster would emerge from what had once been Martin Blackwood? 

Martin lay down, his fluffy belly flat against the floor, and pushed his newly shaped paws over his eyes. Oh, it didn’t bear thinking about! Jon would burst in at any moment, see some horrible creature, not realise it was Martin, and—

“Martin?” 

As if on cue, the door to the shared office of the archival assistants opened, and in walked Jonathan Sims. “Martin, have you taken your lunch break? Tim and Sasha have already gone, and Elias has been getting very prickly about me making sure you all…oh. Martin?” 

Martin had scampered under the table in hope of avoiding his boss’ gaze. Treated now to a blurry view of the man’s green socks and scuffed brogues, he watched as Jon entered the office. “Oh. Good. He’s gone already,” Jon said to himself with the air of a job well done. He turned to leave, and Martin had almost let out a sigh of relief when the man’s feet stopped. 

No, no! Martin thought, Go! You can’t see me like this! I bet I’m the ugliest monster, all fangs and talons and hair all over the place! 

A scarred hand appeared in Martin’s imperfect vision, scooping up the fallen book that was to blame for Martin’s plight. A new fear sprang up in Martin’s mind then – what if Jon read the book too? 

He had to do it. He had to save him! Even if it meant Jon would see Martin’s disgusting new form, he had to keep Jon safe! 

He lunged with a power that Martin hadn’t ever known before. A screeching roar – or a miaow, really – pierced the air, and Martin all but bodyslammed Jon’s hands, knocking the book firmly from his grip. It span across the room and slid under the bookshelf out of sight. 

Now he’d done it. Now Jon would see Martin in all his revolting glory – witness what that awful Leitner book had turned him into. If he didn’t recognise Martin, as surely he wouldn’t, he’d no doubt call security, and then what would happen? Would Martin be taken down? Locked away in the tunnels for examination and research? Worse, what if Jon did recognise him? He’d know that Martin had messed up in a spectacular fashion, and he’d be so disappointed in him. Would he be the one to tell Martin nothing could be done, that the effects of a Leitner were irreversible and that they’d have to–

“Good Lord! Oh…oh, now, where did you come from, little one?” 

Jon’s voice took on a bizarrely soft tone that Martin had never heard before. He couldn’t respond, however, as thin hands had latched gently around his torso and lifted him from the ground, a startled purr rumbling from Martin’s chest. 

All of a sudden, Jon’s face filled Martin’s entire view. And for once, no scowl darkened his features. In fact, Jon almost looked…delighted? 

Martin blinked. 

“Mrrow?” 

Not once in over a year of working for Jonathan Sims had Martin managed to coax a smile from the other man. All his best attempts, his best teas, his ridiculous amount of overtime to finish his reports to a standard Jon would accept, all his own smiles and attempts to cheer the man up, not one of these gargantuan efforts had been rewarded with a smile. 

And now, with one confused miaow, Martin had unlocked a smile from Jon. 

“How did you get in here? Did you get lost? Did Martin leave the door open again? Oh, I bet he did. I bet he did!” Jon repeated, descending into a cooing baby voice that would have had Martin howling with laughter if he could still laugh. Jon shifted the perplexed Martin to sit over his shoulder more comfortably, the book all but forgotten. “But you’re such a handsome boy! And no collar? Poor little man, have you been wandering around looking for some food and shelter? We’ll get you sorted, don’t you worry, little champion.” 

What…the hell…is happening? Martin wondered, even as a big, goofy smile curled his lips. 

Jon was carrying him. Out of the office. Stroking his back. Calling him a little champion and handsome. 

“How about a saucer of warm milk, hmm? Does that sound good? Would that set you right, hmm?” 

It was only then that Martin’s mind dragged itself out of the dazed, happy fog to piece together what Jon was saying. Why he was saying it. 

Martin had not been transformed into some vicious beast from the eldritch corners of reality. 

As they passed by Jon’s office, Martin caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass pane of the door. 

A large cat with white and orange fur blinked back at him from over Jon’s shoulder. 

──── •✧• ────

Martin was, of course, the talk of the town after everyone returned from their lunch break. Funny, then, that not one person actually mentioned Martin. 

“So you’re gonna take him to the vets, right, boss?” Tim asked, rolling another roll of Sellotape towards Martin, apparently expecting him to play with it. Martin, on principle, refused, turning his nose up and huffing. 

Tim, come on! You’re back, Sasha’s back, who isn’t back yet? Ask where Martin is! he thought. 

“He seems healthy enough to me,” Jon replied, not looking up from the paperwork he was pouring over. “Why?” 

“To get his microchip checked? Get him back to his owners?” 

That made Jon look up, a flash of shock and upset clear in his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. “His ow— No, no, he hasn’t even got a collar on. No owners.”

“Right, but by law, cats have to be microchipped. Maybe his collar fell off or something?” A hint of amusement danced in Tim’s questions; Martin could tell that Tim was toying with Jon. Jon, however, hadn’t picked up on that. 

“M-maybe,” he replied stiffly. “Right, yes, fine. Vets after work. But he can stay here for now. Till the end of the shift.” 

Martin wandered over to Jon, sitting himself down by the leg of his chair and craning his neck up, tail swishing behind him. 

Right, now that’s sorted, onto the next obvious issue in the office, Jon, he thought. Which is…the obvious and mysterious disappearance of—

“Martin’s late back off his lunch,” Jon noted, checking the office clock with a critical glance. “Could you check the archival assistants’ office please, Tim? Maybe drop him a text. Probably got himself distracted by some…particularly interesting bollards or something…”

Sure, there’d been an insult mixed in there, but Jon had noticed! He’d noticed Martin’s disappearance, and that meant Martin had to repay his kindness! 

Fuelled with delight, the cat sprang up onto Jon’s lap, earning him a surprised chuckle. “Ah! Well, hello! Y-yes, you can sit there while I work, Champion. That’s fine.” 

Tim snorted as he headed out of Jon’s office, arching an eyebrow at the pair of them. “Champion? Are you kidding me? He’s a classic Fluffy or Ginger or Marshmallow or something.”

“Nonsense. He’s brimming with regal strength. A Champion if I ever saw one,” Jon retorted with a sniff, deeming the argument not worth his attention beyond that and turning back to his work. “Let me know if Martin gets back to you. And if he shows up, send him in here.” 

The newly named Champion stretched out lazily on Jon’s lap, settling down for a cheeky nap on company time. 

Already here, Jon. 

──── •✧• ────

[lady-phasma]

I felt compelled to cite my sources for Armand and Lestat being an item off and on over the years. I’ve been in this fandom too long to get involved in ship wars or to really have an OTP for these crazy-ass vampires. I happen to love Armand and Lestat from the books and think that Assad and Sam make it work so well on screen. I hope we get loads more of them for season 3.

Anne wrote all of her characters as deeply flawed, we can all agree on that, but the nearly fanfiction level of “let’s see what happens when two of my most flawed characters get together” writing she did in TVA is brilliant. Book spoilers below.

Here's a link to a post I made about Lestat's perspective of Armand from TVL. (I have included one quote from TVL below because it's too precious to exclude.)

Lestat spends almost a full page describing how he sees Armand at a ball at the Palais Royal:

Yet never had Nicolas, mortal or immortal, been so alluring. Never had Gabrielle held me so in thrall. Dear God, this is love. This is desire. And all my past amours have been but the shadow of this. - The Vampire Lestat, p. 275

They literally feel the same about each other: instant attraction, love, desire, and so on. And it is powerful.

So powerful that hundreds of years later (in one of my favorite passages from any of her books) Armand is the only person allowed to approach an unconscious Lestat. Not only approach him, but allowed to lay down next to him and cuddle, caress, and console Lestat, to cry onto him.

I looked down on Lestat, who was unchanged, his hair fallen as before, a little over his left eye. His right arm was out, and his fingers curling upwards, and there came from him not the slightest movement, not even a breath from his lungs or a sigh from his pores. I knelt down beside him again. I reached out, and without flinching or hesitating, I brushed his hair back from his face. I could feel the shock in the room. I heard the sighs, the gasps from the others. But Lestat himself didn't stir. Slowly, I brushed his hair more tenderly, and I saw to my own mute shock one of my tears fall right onto his face. It was red yet watery and transparent and it appeared to vanish as it moved down the curve of his cheekbone and into the natural hollow below. I slipped down closer, turning on my side, facing him, my hand still on his hair. I stretched my legs out behind me, and alongside of him, and I lay there, letting my face rest right on his outstretched arm. Again there came the shocked gasps and sighs, and I tried to keep my heart absolutely pure of pride and pure of anything but love. It was not differentiated or defined, this love, but only love, the love I could feel perhaps for one I killed or one I succored, or one whom I passed in the street, or for one whom I knew and valued as much as him. - The Vampire Armand, pp. 368-369 (emphasis is mine)

But the contrasting absolute annoyance Armand has for Lestat is hilarious! He loves him but can barely stand him sometimes (that isn't unusual for Lestat's admirers).

Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whom I would lay down my immortal life, one for whose love and companionship I have ofttimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I cannot exist. The Vampire Armand, p. 276

But it's the way he describes things that happen to him that maddens me, the way that he connects one incident to another as though all these random and grisly occurrences were in fact links in some significant chain. They are not. They are capers. And he knows it. But he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe. The James Bond of the Vampires, the Sam Spade of his own pages. - The Vampire Armand, p. 288 (emphasis mine)

Though Armand's head on Lestat's arm might be the most beautiful image of the two of them from any of the books, this line gives me chills every time:

"Lestat, my Lestat - for he was never theirs, was he? - my Lestat was crazed and railing as the result of his awful saga […]" - The Vampire Armand, p. 320 (emphasis mine)

Yes, your Lestat.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Ohhh all of that sounds like so much fun and sooo awesome! :D (Esp because these two sound like multi-chapter fics in the making and, coming away from my own and deliberating whether I want to start another, I have so much admiration for the time, planning etc. those will take, so kudos to you for that! <3)

Ahahaha XD Celebrimbor being torn between "oh no what did I do?!" and "But the wealth of first-hand knowledge-" is hilarious and so on point imo XD Poor Adar and Narvi are going to have their hands full - and Galadriel definitely isn't getting paid enough for this. If trying to kill a ressurected mummy is easier than the trio's awkward "the love is requited they are just oblivious" situation, they are all in deep, deep trouble XD

If anyone can try and bring both industrialization and capitalism to Middle-earth, it would be Sauron, fully agree. Makes me think how giddy he'd be in modern times with all the advancements he'd have at his disposal - very curious to see the cyberpunk elements meet Middle-earth fantasy! :D

I so love that idea, it means Celebrimbor will have a lot to think about and lots of emotions to work through, questioning himself and Adar and other things, which can lead to great character development (and relationships, hehe)! The lifespan concern esp is something I can see him struggling with, as an elf who lives so much longer and for whom 4 years must be awfully short.

Coming from your WIP game post, I'd love to hear about these two, if you have the time and would like to share:

And Now We Have a Mummy AU (because I so enjoyed those movies)

Do Uruks Dream of Valinor (I love cyberpunk and can't wait to see your take on it with TROP/the scarredsilverdoors OT3 <3)

Thanks for teh ask! You have no idea how excited I am about these AUs!

And Now We Have a Mummy AU - Basically, Celebrimbor, Galadriel, and Narvi are eccentric adventurers and archaeologists who want to beat Pharazon and his team of losers to Hamunaptra. To do that, they enlist the aid of a skeptical Adar to guide them to the lost city. Once they arrived, Celebrimbor lets his curiosity and excitement get the better of him and accidentally resurrects a cursed Sauron...oops.

Now Sauron wants to use Celebrimbor to resurrect his lover, Melkor, and rule the world together.

Sauron is probably going to be dressed like Anuck-su-namun because he's a whore (meant affectionately haha) and of course Celebrimbor, Narvi, and Adar are in love with each other but too awkward to admit it and Galadriel thinks they're all idiots. XD

Do Uruks Dream of Valinor AU - the plot bunnies for this AU are exploding, so hopefully this makes sense. 😅

Basically, it's three years after Morgoth was defeated and Middle-Earth is a mess - environmentally, politically, psychologically - basically everyone and everything is a mess haha. Adar is the only one who has his shit together and he's on a mission. When Morgoth created the Uruks, he gave them a lifespan of four years to control them and keep them desperate enough to never unite and rise against him. Adar's oldest batch of surviving Uruks have only one year left to live and he CANNOT accept that. So he is going to enter Eriador, kidnap this amazing Lord Celebrimbor he keeps hearing about, and force him to give his children more life - all while being hunted by Galadriel, a Blade Runner, Annatar who still needs *his* Elf to make rings for him, and Mirdania and Narvi who just want to know their beloved Elf is safe.

[mx-pastelwriting]

First and last time

KLAUS MIKAELSON X GN! READER

SUMMARY: Klaus trying to compel you for the first and last time. WARNINGS/TAGS: Established Relationship, Argument, Compelling, Mention of dead body

Blood covered Klaus's body as the argument continued. A man's body lay on the floor, his neck broken minutes ago. In a fit of jealousy at the man's kindness to you, only there to fix the kitchen sink, though not denying he was flirting with you, just in time for Klaus to hear.

"Really Klaus" voice raised at Klaus, who was stuck in a delusional right. "Oh, I'm sorry, did you want his number first?" he said, gesturing to the dead body. 

"You know what I mean. Why are you covered in blood?" Your question makes him smile. "Now that is mine and Elijah's business," he says, stepping away from the body before moving towards you.

The words did little to calm your mood, only made anger bubble up. This being nothing new. The idea of him intently riling you up hung in your mind, but for what? Or was it to make you point out his faults, as he could never do that himself?

"Really, it's none of my business, oh, but it is when you hide me out in the bayou, right?" Klaus's face quickly turned with a mix of shame and anger.

"I do that to pro-" "Protect me, yeah, from the consequences of your actions." At your words, he came closer, looking into your eyes. Studying his blue-green eyes, seeing anger eat away at him but flashing with pity before he spoke.

"Silently go upstairs and stay there until I say so." The power of his stare flooded your body, though only for a moment as the vervain kicked in. Wanting to laugh at Klaus, seeing as he always made sure you kept some on you at the beginning of your relationship, but you never thought it would be needed against him.

"What did you just say to me?" you ask, making any confidence drain from the hybrid's face. "Did you just try to compel me?" forgetting anger, rage-filled you, making Klaus back away, knowing this would be the first and last time he'd ever try compelling you.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @g0dwat3r @littlebitchsposts @bimbo-bunni @aoi-targaryen @writtenbyhollywood

[chaifootsteps]

wr.t. leaks (spoilers, duh!). Viv really chose the most boring and uninspired rendition of Alastor possible, and I could not be more disappointed. The signs were definitely there in Season 1, but if you wanted to you could easily dismiss as sloppy writing and one-time reactions to extraordinary events.

Like, I know no fan is *entitled* to have their particular interpretation of a character be validated, but... really? He's been reduced to the form of a one-dimensional, entitled manchild you might find as the villain of a self-insert fanfiction. Ohhhh nooo luci hurt his feefees and Rosie didn't actually make him an all powerful god, so time to storm out and whine about it. Why make a deal in the first place? Well, duh, he gleefully murdered so many people for trivial inconveniences he didn't wanna end up a tortured soul in Hell. He's basically Valentino, but, on the 'good team', and not a rapist (yet.), or Adam, or Vox, or Mammon, or Stella (frankly, you could even put Stolas in this bucket, if he weren't so unintentionally manipulative). A parody of a threatening character, incapable of creating conflict in any way that doesn't involve waving around a big stick and reminding everyone and the audience who the author blessed with magical power don't you forget it!

I've said this about pilot!fanon!Lucifer too, but, the fandom interpretations are just objectively more interesting. It's not like you can't write a story, or even a good story, about an entitled man drunk on power obsessed with his own image and getting what he thinks he's owed. But why would you 1) choose an enslaved racial minority character (!!!) to do this and 2) do it instead of multiple more compelling options given you already have multiple of this exact character on the cast?

Fanon!Alastor has emotions other than anger and insecure whining, he just can't express them because decades of crawling his way up two different hostile societies have beaten into him never expressing vulnerability. His very smile is symbol of societies like Hell ultimately victimize both the powerful abusers and their victims. Fanon!Alastor had a deal with ___ not because he's drunk on his own desire to murder but because he's vulnerable to the very same weakness and temptation he's learned to exploit in others. Fanon!Alastor has a natural dual conflict with Charlie: Alastor's connections and practical knowledge represent a way of making her dream a reality, at the cost of potentially corrupting her and having her get there in an incorrect/immoral way. And Charlie's dream presents Alastor with a pathway to more power and stability, but unbeknownst to him threatens to unwind his entire psyche in allowing himself to care about something. Fanon!Alastor, far from being image-obsessed with a need to be constantly in the limelight, is capable of being subtle, fading into the background when it benefits him.

I could go on, but I'm just tired. It hurts me that, come release, fan works which I enjoy making and reading will be expected to comply with this. I don't want to write Alastor this way. I don't want to be told I'm writing him 'wrong' for not doing it. I hope that in some way the earlier fanons are preserved and kept alive even as canon is polluted with all this slop.

It's sad and exhausting, for sure. It also doesn't help that the standom will attack you pretty viciously if you have the audacity to prefer the pilot to the actual series.

[soradayone]

“Their foreheads rest together, another precious point of contact”

———

So a few weeks ago I found this fanfiction that unironically sparked such an insanely artistic shift in me that, not only have I started writing again but it compelled me to DRAW again. I can’t count how many times I’ve read it; how every new reading my mind paints another vivid illustration. If I had known I would’ve loved a written work like this I would’ve taken my time and not devour it the way I did lmao. I wish I could read it for the first time all over again and that’s probably why I read it once every few days. So it stays fresh, so I don’t forget.

Sometimes I find myself laughing aloud in my apartment that something I found by genuine CHANCE has made me feel like I can create again. I gave so much of my creativity to climbing that corporate ladder that I forgot why I started my personal journey in the first place. So I had started an artist recovery program and the shift started happening before I found this but then I found this fic at 7am before work one day and I wish I was making it up (because it sounds absolutely asinine to me) but I couldn’t breathe straight when reading it. Mostly out of shock that the words were written in such a unique style that I constantly look for in main stream books but never can find (that’s a whole other ass rant), but it hit so hard and suddenly because I wasn’t expecting to read poetry, especially because I’ve never had an affinity for it or poetry like writing, at least not in my younger days.

It made me remember why I loved writing as a child. I forgot that it wasn’t just the stories that I loved, it was the technique, the science of words, the POWER of them, the art of it all.

Is this a really dramatic reaction to a femslash fanfiction about Rangshi, lmao absolutely and it’s why I laugh because it’s embarrassing to me but I’m too old to give a shit about it. I’m tired of not enjoying things, especially this part of fandom.

This is so long but honestly it’s more for me anyway, it’s been months since I’ve sketched so this was a genuinely fun emotional release to finally sketch on my iPad again. I couldn’t even do this scene justice and my lack of skill FRUSTRATES me because my hands cannot keep up with the vision I see when I read this. But my favorite scene in this fic has yet to be drawn but I’ve already sketched that out on a paper somewhere at my desk because I couldn’t stop thinking about it so might post that here one day.