#fanfic writer things lmao

[lokislytherin]

oc-ification

saw this and instantly thought of the jay hong conspiracy post. it’s me and him fr if starshatter hits 500 kudos i Will write that jay hong fix it character arc and post it on twt and hope ptj finds it even though idk if he has a twt or not

also same for khun maria jahad and khun aguero agnis’s unnamed sister who i named in a fic and will keep that name bc i hc she’s a sweet girl who deserves a name and a story

[skyfallscotland]

my readers: i can't wait for you to update!

me, preparing to rip their hearts out of their chests and emotionally destroy them:

[yourlocallygrowngay]

A Quiet Time

(1479 words) by yourlocallygrowngay

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader, Arthur Morgan/Female Reader

Summary: Arthur has been waiting all day to get his hands on you. You retreat to his tent with only one instruction: be as quiet as possible.

---

You gasped softly as Arthur felt around for the slit in your bloomers and hovered his fingers on your warm center, taking his sweet time. He was about to drive you crazy.  And you were supposed to be quiet, too?!

The owls hooted and the crickets chirped as the last embers of the campfire extinguished in the cold chill of the night. It was dead silent at camp, the only muffled sounds coming from Arthur’s closed tent, where he had brought you to get some well-deserved privacy. He had been craving you all day, frequently sneaking glances at you, hungrily scanning the way your blue jeans folded at the center of your crotch, like arrows pointing straight at it. It was like a dinner bell to him: he wanted to feel it, to taste it, to be buried deep within it, to get rid of that annoying thick fabric that kept your folds locked away from him. You stopped your gaze on your partner and smirked at his blissful expression.

“You daydreamin’ there, Arthur?” you kneeled in front of him. He hummed softly, taking a swig of his beer. You gave him a chaste kiss on his reddened cheek, appropriate for the public setting you were in. Next thing you knew, you were in his tent, laying next to him on his cot, one arm cradling your head while the other got busy under your bloomers.

“Oh God,” you exhaled once Arthur’s middle finger found your folds and dipped inside slowly. It was far from being a new sensation: you were more than capable of taking care of that yourself, but it was never quite as satisfying as when his fingers, twice as big as yours, stretched you so well and led you to the finish line.

Arthur shushed you softly, inserting and retracting his finger a few times, and it was already soaked from your arousal.

“Look at’chu, already dripping for me…” he purred inside your ear, voice heavy and low sending a million icy shivers all across your skin.

He pushed further inside this time, just half a motion away from your clit, and you couldn’t hide the moan that escaped your lips before you were even aware of it. Arthur flew to your lips and muffled it by kissing you slowly and deeply, regretfully muting that delectable sound you were making. It was a crime, telling you to be quiet like this, especially since he loved all your little shrieks and mewls and gasps when he did all the things he knew you loved. But you were at camp, and he couldn’t wait another second to touch you, and he didn’t want anyone to find out about your pure moment of bliss. That belonged to you two only, and it was precious. And NOT to be interrupted.

You moaned against Arthur’s mouth, trying to control your breathing as he fingered you faster now, and you were already soaking your underwear and his knuckles. You felt his boner against your hip as he kissed your swollen lips, desperately trying to keep you quiet.

“You’re so beautiful, honey…” he mumbled, keeping his hand steadily thrusting between your thighs and unable to resist the urge to grind his aching stiffness against your hip to give it some relief, all while leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses from your earlobe all the way down to the soft curve of your breasts, stopping at you neck for a more thorough visit. It was almost torture, having to restrain yourself from expressing how he made you feel, because he made you feel heavenly. And you wanted him to hear it.

“Such a good girl… already coming undone from one finger… that’s not all you gon’ get from me, sweetheart.” Arthur was fighting the urge to be quiet with the one, much stronger, to praise the shit out of you, because he couldn’t give it up. He wanted you to know just how good you were for him.

Arthur thought he could come just by looking at you: such a pretty thing, lying there with your lips red and puffed from all the kissing, chest heaving and pearlescent with little droplets of sweat running down its mounds, one leg propped up on the cot to allow him easier access to your cunt, hips thrusting upwards in a desperate attempt to meet his finger, wanting more. And, luckily for you, more was coming.

“Arth-“ that’s all you could manage to say before he suddenly inserted another finger, and you had to summon all of your strength not to scream. You tilted your torso towards him, gripping at his chest so hard you pulled a few of his chest hairs out, but Arthur didn’t flinch. He was completely captivated by you, how you moved according to what he did, how he had you in the literal palm of his hand. How glorious you looked at the verge of an orgasm. He knew you were close, and he was too, but this wasn’t about him. You were his top priority right now, without your pleasure there wouldn’t be his.

“I’m stretching you so good, aren’t I? You want me to go faster, do you?” he said disjointedly, his breathing heavier and heavier as he moved frantically to pleasure both you and him, his mind slightly fogged by that amazing feeling pulsating just underneath, within reach, but fighting hard to keep it under control. You nodded enthusiastically at his request to fuck you harder, and he happily obliged, adding one last finger. The sounds of his fingers slapping against your wet cunt were spreading inside the tent and were obscenely satisfying to you both.

Arthur pre-emptively wrapped you into a kiss so you couldn’t wake everybody up with your delightful screams.  His tongue eagerly explored your mouth as his hand took care of your other set of lips, both swollen and soaking wet as he kept hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and deliberately, making you roll your eyes back into your skull and your mouth fly open, your back arching against his wall of a body. God, you felt so warm and so welcoming… Arthur knew he wasn’t going to resist much longer, his release was near. But yours had to come first.

“That’s it, you’re almost there. Come for me, darlin’…” he coaxed you, precum already dripping down his thigh as he kept moving inside you.

You hit your climax, forgetting all about keeping quiet as you flew to another dimension, unable to control anything your body did. You slowly came down from your high as Arthur did from his, union suit stained with his own orgasm, his fingers still thrusting and not stopping until you had fully recovered to ease the sensation.

“Yep. That’s my girl” he chuckled proudly, taking the fingers still covered in your sweet juice to his lips and licking them like they were dipped in honey. You always tasted amazing to him, and he couldn’t resist doing that every time: you were just so good, plus, he loved the hungry look in your eyes when he did that in front of you.

Arthur brushed aside the sweaty hair that had stuck to your forehead and left a tender kiss just above your eyebrows. You looked up at him with a drunken smile on your face, still a bit high. He returned the same smile to you, leaning in again to leave a peck on your lips and nose.

“Was that… good for you?” he asked, like he didn’t just rock your entire world a moment ago.  You nodded, thanking him and caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes and emitted a low hum of contentedness, enjoying your gentle touch.

You sat up, re-adjusting your underwear around your sweaty body. Arthur asked if you needed anything. Water to drink? A cloth to clean yourself up with? Just a word from you and he was already buttoning up his pants and ducking out of the tent to fetch you what you asked. He was always so caring and dutiful after doing the deed with you, asking if you’re okay, if you’re hurt or sore and what he could do for you. It was a bit of a ritual for him, like going though a mental checklist to make sure you were 100% comfortable and happy. He knew he could be quite rough, even if he tried to restrain himself, so he wanted to be certain you were being taken care of after such an intimate act. Arthur was back in a blink, with a cup of water in one hand and a fresh cloth he dutifully dabbed all over your exposed skin to wipe away your sweat.

Once your thirst was quenched and both of you were clean, you cuddled on his cot and you fell fast asleep in each other’s arms.

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[mermaidsirennikita]

sometimes it drives me literally insane to see romance requests that are like

--I want a romance wherein it's basically the happy epilogue throughout the book

--I want a romance that has great communication and they never withhold anything from each other ever

--no "miscommunication trope"

The last thing is just a general gripe about how so many of the things people say are tropes are not tropes, and it's pedantic and snobby but like. Miscommunication is so broad. It's not a trope. People are miscommunicating. WHAT are they miscommunicating about? Is one of them keeping a secret identity from their partner? Because a secret identity romance iS a trope. Is one of them withholding their feelings out of fear of rejection?

Because people DO miscommunicate. Often writers do write it clumsily. If people miscommunicate for no reason, sure, whatever. But if they miscommunicate BECAUSE of a REASON--like, often it's not even miscommunication lol. It's the hero keeping his dire supernatural secret from his wife because she'll die if she finds out (honestly, valid to me, but whatever). It's the heroine finding it difficult to trust the hero with her heart because her dad left when she was young (maybe cliche in theory, but actually a very real thing that happens).

If all you want is plotless nothing wherein everyone is happy and nobody makes mistakes, I personally have a hard time thinking of it as a book, because there is no story. It's just vibes. And essentially EVERY time, people have to mess up and make mistakes in order for there to be a plot.

I just don't understand the point.

[sisterofficerlucychen]

i really hope that the day we get a chenford wedding that tim includes in his vows how he's always gone by the book and always been such a control freak but then he fell in love with his boot (cue everyone laughing and lucy rolling her eyes) and she's the only one he's always felt safe with stepping out of his comfort zone and ends it with "some things matter more" because he took that risk and then lucy whispers back with a sly grin "some things matter more" ♡

[star4daisy]

apparently i can only write smut while i'm drunk

[bendybutnot]

Y'know how sometimes people make fics about somehow, the chain goes to koholit? Or like, Marin somehow being at Legend's house? All that good stuff? Either fluff or angst, sometimes possibly crack, y'know?

I just finished playing Majora's mask yesterday, and so I'm kinda sitting here

Reading fanfic yaknow,,,

And I'm reading one of my favorite ones, although it's not LU just a regular Majora's mask fic, and then I kinda just go to myself

"wouldn't it be funny if I wrote a fic where Time can go to termina whenever he wants? Where Anju and Kafei just kinda adopted him, but he still went back to hyrule and visits termina to occasionally visit his kinda adoptive parents? Wouldn't it be funny?"

[jerzwriter]

STOP IT! 😂😂😂

A friend just sent me this and I am DYING

[themoonking]

not to shit on decade old ffn fics but in being nostalgic i've noticed there are a lot of young justice x dcau crossovers from when yj seasons 1-2 were airing that seem like they were written by someone who has never seen a dcau show. like, they're explicitly said by the author to be the dcau. not just any generic justice league, but the dcau (sometimes even specifying around what episode / season!), but there's stuff that directly contradicts dcau canon.

like, the flash will be barry allen, despite the fact that in the dcau the flash is wally west. nine times out of ten, there's some kind of exchange about batman not having a robin and rejecting the idea that he would ever take on a protege, despite the fact that by the jl animated series, dcau batman has two robins and a batgirl. if zatanna is involved, the jl usually says that they don't know her / she doesn't exist, and sometimes this is even said by batman and its like.. bruce! yes you do know her!! you've known her for years!

like i love the concept, i wish there were more dcau x yj crossovers, especially with a s1 yj team (or a yj team a year or so after s1), but a lot of the ones that exist feel like the author watched all of young justice (at the time) but only like. season one of justice league.

[pink-tk-a-latte]

5 times artblocked user tried to post new content + 1 time she finally did (maybe)

[beesinspades]

this year I might actually be able to participate in fanfic writers appreciation day on august 21st! :3 I'll try to make a long-ish trigun fic rec list since I've actually read and bookmarked more trigun fics than in any of my past fandoms hehe.

[bobtheacorn]

I have a 3 y/o and it's after turkey day and she developed the Sniffles this weekend so today we laid on the couch and binged Mickey Christmas movies/specials and Duck the Halls (2016) was one of them and I just have a couple of questions that I'd like to ask the furry fanfic whump authors that were sitting in that writers room pitching ideas, chief among them....... Why?

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

atsv: if a canon event is stopped, the entire multiverse will collapse and everyone will die

me, vibrating in my seat: well TOO BAD because my favourite hobby is taking canon and kicking it in the fucking face AND I DO NOT LIKE WHERE YOU'RE GOING SO GUESS WHAT I'LL BE DOING

[grapejuicegay]

This post exists

Supposed rivals do not look at each other's lips or do they have massive head-imploding realizations that one has been in love with the other. But that's exactly what's happening to Pat as he watches Pran in the music shop and now, he has a choice. Pretend he saw nothing and leave to deal with his head-imploding realizations or grab Pran by the hand and figure this shit out. Which is insane. Well... no one ever said Pat was sane. ...or an au re-imagining of what could have happened after the music store

And now so does this. @7nessasaryevils and I did a thing...

[l-sincline]

I wish ppl on tumblr would support fanfiction even half as much as they support fanart