Stop tagging your hate!

If it’s not hurting anyone, why can’t you just live and let live?

Trying to find the right ship tag, guessed wrong and it’s just filled with hate! Ugh.

(by hurting someone I mean things like racism and paedophilia here, not just something squicking you out)

Imagine Your OTP

fuckyesdeadpool:

Lookit! @akacosmic and I created this fanfiction prompt generator

On the initial roll you’ll get an AU and trope

If you want to turn it into smut you can click the kink button

There are hundreds of different results and thousands of combinations. The options were compiled through research of the most popular fiction AUs, romance tropes, and fanfic kinks.

None of the options are gender or sexuality specific and are applicable to polyamorous couples.

I hope you like the layout, we wanted it to look like a late 90s geosites page because… It’s avant-garde?

Tag your OTP and what result you got, maybe your followers will write it for you

Imagine Your OTP

kyleehenke:

enemies-to-friends/lovers relationships fuel my life force. like. give me two people who experienced enough personal growth to change their perspectives and set their pride aside to understand one another. give me a hard-won companionship made rock solid from experiencing each other at their best and worst, give me two people who went through to hell together and came out the other side with forgiveness and humility. just kill me dude

Laura Kaye over on ao3 just put up a Phlint fic based on the undercover wedding sting. I can’t paste the link, but it’s the utterly charming Operation Snapdragon at /works/5230448 It was the first I’d heard of real-life event, so your post felt particularly serendipitous! (And really, when marrying a badass, what more could you possibly want from your wedding?)

copperbadge:

Okay this fic is amazing but my actual favourite part had nothing to do with the plot, to wit:

“He is driving me insane,” Maria snapped. “Well, all of us, but especially me, because somebody decided I needed to be the wedding planner for this debacle.”

“I thought you wanted more operational coordination experience,” Phil said. “It was one of your developmental goals.”

DEVELOPMENTAL GOALS

I CAN’T STOP LAUGHING

She bullshitted her way through her annual review and now she has to be a wedding planner

brella:

important ship tropes:

  • fake dating
  • SECRET dating
  • being locked in a room or trapped in a small space
  • huDDLING FOR WARMTH
  • BEING ON THE BRINK OF ADMITTING THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER BUT THEN GETTING INTERRUPTED
  • finishing each other’s sentences, KNOWING WHAT THE OTHER IS ABOUT TO SAY
  • tou chi NG!!!! FOr eheA DS!!!!!!11!!
  • wearing each other’s clothes
  • doing that thing where they accidentally get real close and, like, stare meaningfully at each other for a few seconds too long
  • channeling the inner romcom and having an epiphany about how much they care about each other and RACING TO CONFESS THEIR LOVE
  • fucking. Now or Never Kiss
  • HEIGHT DIFFERENCES
  • defending each other to scathing tertiary or otherwise minor characters but ONLY WHEN THE OTHER ISN’T AROUND
  • reincarnation or time loop or OOOOH TIME TRAVEL SCENARIOS
  • dramatically saving each other from certain death or barely surviving something that almost makes the other break down and just smirking wearily and mumbling flippant smartass remarks to HIDE THE DEPTH OF THEIR FEELINGS
  • undercover as lovers, the classic
  • ALMOST KISSING. like getting so close that they start to close their eyes and hold their breath and then SOMETHING HAPPENS and they jump apart, that is MORE VALUABLE THAN ANY ACTUAL KISSING
  • casually sitting on each other’s laps during ensemble cast conversations or scenes
  • did i mention F AKE DATinG

meridaring:

I like to think, if romanced, Alistair loved the Warden from the first. (i’m sappy like that)

and okay, maybe not LOVED loved. But just that he remembers the first moment he caught sight of her. After that ridiculous argument with the mage at ostagar, Alistair saw her there, sunlight in her hair, and that wry bit of his brain he can never quite turn off sort of flippantly goes: now there is something worth dying for.

But then she meets his gaze, fixes those clear eyes on him, and when she does not look away, something much quieter, much deeper, just whispers: Oh.