#god i think i'm the only one adding to that tag. if not creating it. oh well.

[ispridestillasin]

So I decided to watch a bit of Bridgerton with my mother, which I'm not really interested in (I don't really like period pieces unless it's a fanfic for a ship I like) but it's a show she enjoys so I sometimes catch her watching it and join her, and literally the only takeaway from the stuff I've seen with her is that Colin, Lord Debling, and Penelope should have all been poly

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Prologue

I'm not super happy with this prologue but I've done my best with it :'). Also I gave God He/They pronouns. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 1227

Warnings: Uhhhh idk unless you count God as one.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

Prologue // Chapter 1 >

Prologue

Before time began, there was her.

Cælitis (Definition): The divinities who dwell within the celestial planes. (Noun)

The Universe – The Beginning

Perhaps it was a coincidence, or a mistake, or there was something far greater beyond the confines of the ever-expanding walls of the universe. They had accepted solitary, thinking they were the only one, the first, when they awoke to a dark abyss, with the veins of creation pulsating at his fingertips. This was what God thought when they reached out for the first time, light bursting from within, shooting out and collecting into a colossal sphere. A star, he had named it, and he had much fun for who knows how long, floating through the endless vacuum, using these fiery balls of fire and gas to light his way. He would make them every colour he could think of, clumping some together to form the nebulas, or shooting some off into the middle of nowhere, just for the sake of it. Sometimes, he would press atoms so close together they would form rocks of all shapes and sizes, letting them wander and float around until they began clumping together into similar spherical shapes. He even swirled some clusters of stars and rocks around, watching as they turned into disks that would spin forever – galaxies, he decided to label them as. Before long, the universe was scattered with clusters of stars, planets, and whatever else they felt like creating, some so big their size was incomprehensible, others microscopic in comparison, and the rest varying in between.

When God had decided to rest their powers for a short while, he hadn’t expected to awake to the feeling that something was off when he observed his work. A small ripple, something he wouldn’t have picked up on if he knew they were the only being currently in existence. It passed through them, and he quickly shot towards the nebula that sat in the centre of his universal domain, their birthplace, so to speak. And what he came across was something very wrong. And he finally came to the realisation that he wasn’t alone.

It looked like a cloud at first. A dark mass that swirled and flared it tendrils around frantically as it contorted in and out of itself. He wouldn’t have been able to see it if it weren’t for the carnage it had left behind, it’s pitch black silhouette a stark contrast against the flickering specks of light behind it – the broken remains of his precious stars and planets.

Though he did not fear it. They knew that if this being had come into existence, it was here for a reason.

The Goddess was a being not many creatures knew about, and God wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want anyone to know he had an equal, someone, if aware of everything they could do, could rival him and his authority.

He was Creation, and she was Destruction. Not solely there to destroy everything, no. She was brought into existence to ensure there was change, to make sure God didn’t slow down, always keeping him on his metaphorical feet. He had welcomed change when they had first come across her, but not too much. See, he wanted things to progress, but on his terms, so when the flailing tendrils of the Goddess had parted to reveal a mass of black wings and hundreds of very curious eyes peering up at them, he immediately took them under his own wings, teaching them the timeline of the universe around them. Her naivety hadn’t flown past him, she had just come into existence after all, and at this realisation he was delighted.

Billions of years passed by under the tutelage of God, telling the Goddess that she was his creation, what was divine and what was sacrilege. She absorbed it all, enchanted by the ways of what she believed to be her ‘creator’.

At one point, Destruction was overseeing a supernova just outside the Andromeda galaxy when God had approached her, eager to show her something. Reluctant but curious, she agreed, allowing them take her to another celestial plane, gesturing his arms out wide and welcoming her to Heaven.

He introduced her to his creations, his hierarchy of the divine. From the Seraphims, all the way down to the angels. For a time the Goddess resided with them, telling them about her ways of existence, though it wasn’t always received positively. In fact, there was only one creation that was intrigued by her path of dismantlement, a chirpy seraphim named Lucifer, who would spend most of his free time following her around with wide eager eyes, asking questions a mile a minute. The Goddess would always answer truthfully, and soon enough God began to grow weary of the friendly exchange between the two.

It wasn’t long before he was dragging her back through the planes, until they came across a very colourful planet. Entering through the atmosphere, the two floated down until they arrived on top of wall that encased a very interesting sight.

For as far as the eye could see, there was desert, but within the confines of this wall was a lush paradise, filled to the brim with every possible plant. The Garden of Eden.

God revealed two creatures that he had brought into existence, their names Adam, and Lilith, and they were to create the human race. Though his idea didn’t last very long – Lucifer had trailed after the Goddess into Eden one day, going off on another one of his excitable tangents on whatever was flying through his head at the time, when he had come face to face with the cunning and evaluating eyes of Lilith.

Obviously most know what happened after that, and God had quickly created Eve, but when she and Adam both failed his expectations after Lucifer and Lilith tempted them with the apple from the tree, he soon made changes.

The Seraphim and his new wife were cast down into a new celestial plane called Hell, and God then turned to the Goddess, seething, accusing her – that she had planted those thoughts and questions into his creation’s mind. They wouldn’t hear any excuse, leaving her until near the end of Adam and Eve’s once immortal life on Earth.

When he approached her again, they said he had a new job for her, and she followed, hopeful for their friendship to be restored, though doubts began to creep into her mind when she saw what was before her.

Purgatory, he had revealed it to be, was where she would take mortal souls after their physical body expired and sort them between Heaven and Hell. Next was the Underworld, where, if a soul was displaced in either of the two afterlives, it would go there to remain for eternity, or if she decided to send it back to Earth to be reincarnated. It was her new domain, where she would reside when she wasn’t on Earth collecting new souls.

Distressed, the Goddess asked why she was to do this, but God said nothing, only explaining further on what her new purpose entailed, and she grew more and more distraught at the new path he had laid out in front of her. She was no longer to be regarded as Destruction, but instead would spend the rest of eternity to be called a new, more fitting name, one he thought described her purpose of being perfectly:

Death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Six (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. 

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Hope you like this one. Weirdly it's one of my fave chapters. (I love Frankie, you'll see.) Slightly shorter chapter this time. The angst continues (I’m so sorry... but also I'm really I'm not sorry at all, yk? :P)!  As always, I would be super, super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way, and I'm so touched that anyone would even consider reading this far along in the story! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.7k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Santiago watches you go. Feels the violence of you being snatched from his side like a wound. 

He feels lost for a moment. Paralysed as he watches you retreating, barging by Frankie and Will and Benny in the doorway; most of the boys - barring Tom- having mobilised downstairs. They are soldiers, after all, and so they can sense a conflict. They look like it too. They look primed: to assess, attack, defend. Defend you. Always was that way. That’s all Santiago ever wanted too. 

“Hey. Hey, hey. Come on. What is all this?”. Frankie attempts to soothe as you hasten your approach across the sand, towards the refuge of that doorway. As though Santiago is an earthquake and you must take shelter from him there. “Come on,” he calls out to the two of you, indiscriminately. And then, to Santiago only. “For fuck’s sake, man. You care about each other.”

Santiago can’t move. He desperately wants his feet to move after you but he can’t seem to get them to cooperate. Can’t seem to get any sound of protest to birth from his throat. Can’t seem to bring himself to stop you from walking away. Just like last time. Maybe he thinks he knows what’s better for you, and so he dare not try. 

Instead, he watches as Frankie futilely tries to smooth things -to slow you down - but on your approach he must see little chance of reconciliation in the folds and caving of your face, for he lets you barge right by him. You slip clean by Will on the porch too, and just past Will’s broad shoulders, Santiago can see his brother spinning on his heel. Launching himself to follow you back upstairs. To offer you the comfort you deserve after the wounds you didn’t. The wounds he has created by telling you the one thing he’d always feared himself. 

That there was no hope for the two of you. 

God. He had simply tried to love you, but how could he reach out to you softly when his hands are so lethal? How could he hold you, when all he ever did was hurt? 

He huffs a sharp breath out of his nose, cursing at himself under his breath. His heart is hammering in his chest. There is a ringing in his ears. Guilt. Fear. Adrenaline. Anger. Guilt most of all. Santiago watches dissociatively as Frankie beelines across the sands for him, not to comfort, he thinks, but to blame. It’s all he deserves, isn’t it? Maybe, but he feels exposed out here, alone on the sand, so he too mobilises towards the house. His head down and his pace purposeful, face locked in a grimace, as though perhaps he too could somehow slip by unnoticed, despite its guarded perimeter. Even though the whole squad is primed for damage control. Even though he’s flagged as the danger. The wrecking ball, the shell, the strike, threatening to bring this house to its knees. 

He’s done worse. 

He had wanted better for you.

“I’ve had enough of this bullshit, man,” he spits to Frankie - without looking at his buddy as he rounds on him, attempting to get in his way and slow him down. Santiago doesn’t like to feel caged in. To feel small. Vulnerable. He rasps the palm of his hand down over his mouth and chin. “Fuck.” 

Santiago reaches the porch, still ignoring Frankie, and moves to pass Will too. But, his old captain is having none of that. He pushes Santiago back firmly - heel of hand to shoulder. “Why don’t you leave it?” he warns, the words frothing between his teeth. Santiago still does not look up, his face a snarl, trying once more to shoulder barge and bypass his way into the house. “No, no way.” Will stands taller, knocking him back, practically looming over Santiago now. 

Santiago looks at him this time, in accusation. He squares off to him, tension writhing along his jaw, Will bearing down on him with all the weight of his bulk and presence and his track record. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Frankie placates from behind him, and Santiago feels the man’s hands settle on his tense, packed shoulders. He quickly shrugs them off. “Let’s take a walk. Let’s take a walk.”

“You fucking kidding me?” Santiago bites, his breath raging through his nose. 

“Take a fucking walk, Garcia.” Will orders coolly. The shorter man’s jaw writhes, tension rippling through his body, but he doesn’t plan on going toe to toe with Captain Miller. He knows that wouldn’t end well. 

Frankie tries again, planting his hands once more on Santiago’s shoulders and twisting him away from the porch. Santiago still hasn’t looked at the man. He can only feel him there. This quiet, calming presence, reflecting the grotesqueness of own anger back at him. Forcing him to face himself in the mirror. “Let’s take a walk. Come on, hermano. Take a walk.” 

Santiago rips his gaze and head away from Will and with an unbecoming grunt begins pacing it down the long strip of beach, adrenalin still piping into his veins. His body shaking, tremoring, and fists clenched by his sides. “Can you believe her? I’m just so… fucking-” He growls. 

And still, Frankie is behind him, in his PJs and sliders and just shoving him forward, palms planted on his shoulder blades. “Walk, man. Just fucking walk. Don’t talk. Move your legs.” Santiago tries it one more time, tries to twist around but Frankie just shoves him onward again, keeping pace behind him. He sticks with him, despite the huffed breaths and snipes and everything else. He walks him like a fucking dog until the adrenalin has burnt off. Until Santiago feels only jitters through his weak legs. Until he feels a pit open up inside and swallow him. Until he can carry himself no further away from you. Until he realises that no matter how far he walks he cannot run from himself. 

“You cooled off now, huh?” Frankie manages to soothe, even with the bitter lime-wedge bite in his tone. “Okay. Okay.” 

Santiago crashes. 

“Fuck, Frankie.”It is as though he turns to sand, knees buckling and dropping to a crouch, burying his face into his gently tremoring hands. “Shit.” He scoops up a handful of sand, tossing a tiny grit storm into the air. “Fuuuuucckk.” He crests, and he sags back on to his ass with a sorry thud into the sand, his legs spread and knees drawn up. He rests his elbows on top of them, his head sagging down in between his legs and his fingers lacing behind his neck. He looks like he’s protecting himself from debris. From the aftermath.  

To his side, Santiago hears Frankie sigh deeply, and he plonks himself on the floor beside his buddy. Santiago squirms performatively to dismiss the circles Frankie’s broad hand smooth into his shoulder, but he is eminently glad when his friend doesn’t quit. He needs this. Someone who won’t give up on him. 

Frankie’s robust voice is a comfort too, yet he can still hear some judgement in it. Knows it is coming. Still, generously, Frankie allows Santiago a moment. A breathing cycle before he must face another onslaught. “Hey. Hey, come on.” He pats his back more firmly, and Santiago just sits, tears piping freely down his cheeks. 

There is a groan around a bitten lip, and Santiago finally looks. Finally looks to see Frankie softly shake his head from side to side. Something is coming. Santiago can guess what. It’s somehow always his fault, isn’t it, and so he should expect the onslaught? Frankie’s voice is deceptively soft, but he always strikes in stealth. That’s where he does his best work. He applies another couple of slow, forceful pats to Santiago’s back, before scrunching his hand into his t-shirt and jostling him, perhaps as though he could shake some sense into him once and for all. “I don’t get it, man,” Frankie intones. “Isn’t she everything you ever wanted?”

Santiago closes his eyes, the final smattering of tears beading in his long lashes. “I don’t know why I can’t…” His shoulders tug up as he sucks in a steadying breath and promptly releases it again, digging his closed fists into the sand before him. “I don’t. I just…” His eyebrows leap up in distress as he wrestles with the complexity. “I want to. I want to, but she’s better off without me. She doesn’t deserve all of my bullshit.”

“I don’t think she’s once tolerated any bullshit, hermano, least of all yours.” 

Santiago sees what his buddy is trying to do, but Santiago shakes his head forlornly from side to side. “I wouldn’t be good for her. Wouldn’t be good enough…” 

Frankie clicks his tongue. “She wants you. Don’t patronise her by thinking you know better.” 

“No. It’s too late. I fucked it. I… Shit.”

Frankie’s voice drops an octave. “I’ve been patient. But I’m tiring of your fucking excuses, man.” He does; he sounds tired. Everyone, always so tired of him. “Look ahead with me for a minute, alright?” Frankie gestures with a sweep of his arm through the air, as though Santiago could fix on a vision of the future before him. Instead, all he sees is a black, rolling sea, fringed with frayed white lace. A round disk of mellow light shining down through the night. “What do you see in your life? Christ - what’s your endgame? Getting shot in some fucking ditch?” Frankie swats Santiago’s arm with the back of his hand when he receives no reply, the man instead looking wistfully out over the water, his eyes as soft as the moon. “I asked you a question. So answer me. What’s your endgame? If you can’t even say it aloud, I can’t fucking help you.” 

“Her,” Santiago breathes, without looking away from the water. “Her. You know it is.” He scratches nervously over the stubble on his cheek. “I’m so in love, man. So gone for her I can’t fucking think straight.” 

“Right,” Frankie nods firmly, looking at Santiago unblinkingly from beneath his lashes. “So what the fuck are you going to do about it?” 

“I can’t just leave everything, Cat. Walk away and-” 

“-Can’t you?” Frankie smacks the back of his hand definitively against his own open palm. “I did. Tom. Will. She did.” 

Santiago actually scoffs then, as if something is funny. “Yeah. Yeah, Cat,” he concedes, pushing himself up from his hunched position in the sand, voice oddly taut. “You did.” Frankie stands with him, his chin raising as he defends from whatever low blow Santiago has brewing, a healthy dose of cynicism dripping from him already. “You did, and fucking look at you. You’re all a goddamn mess. A hot steaming pile of shit.” His eyes tighten with resolve, a solemnity shrouding his sharp features. “I can’t do that to her.” 

“Fuck you, man,” Frankie revs. “I’m good. I have a little girl on the way.” 

“Oh, please. Give me a break.” Santiago slices his hand through the air. “Tom’s eyes are fucking hollow. Selling fucking condos?” Frankie’s eyes flash with a rage and a sadness that seem to cancel each other out at first, and so he can all but listen as his buddy winds up his tirade. “Will - fucking Captain Miller - this burly bastard walking on eggshells because he’s afraid of flipping that switch and blacking out again. He choked a man out, no flag on his shoulder. Lost the love of his life. I thought those two were it, man. You’re scraping by on lines and don’t think we haven’t noticed.” Frankie’s head ducks down then, and he lets out an undone noise, something between a protest and a whimper. “Fuck, even Benny. The fucker gets beat to shit for fun. Do we sound fucking healthy to you, Cat? Is that how good it is getting out?” 

Frankie’s breaths are turbulent now. Santiago can see the familiar look of restraint on the man. Nostrils flaring, brow drawing down. The dark, formidable edge behind Frankie’s quiet exterior barely kept in check. He meets his gaze and he almost looks battle-drunk. On the offensive and ready to do whatever it takes to get off the backfoot. But, he reins it in. Swallows it down. Until all he delivers is a march forward, pacing Santiago backward, his finger jabbed into his chest and his words snarling directly against his cheek. “Fuck you, pendejo. You think you’re any better than us?” 

Santiago lets him have it. He’s not sure he has any fight left anyway. Isn’t sure he’d mind anymore if he got punched down into the dirt. 

“No. No, I don’t. That’s exactly my point.” Frankie searches his face, the knife in his keen eyes blunting to a wet sheen as Santiago lays it out in a small, fractured voice. “If you can’t do it, how in the hell can I make a go of it? I’m not the best of you. I’m so fucked up. I’ve got all this… fucking baggage. My mom. The nightmares. Lorea. The blood on my hands. I can’t be ‘it’ for her. I can’t. Because she deserves better. Deserves the fucking world, man.” 

Frankie clamps his hands down on Santiago’s shoulders, drawing back to look him squarely in the eyes. “Guess what? You’ll be fucked up in or out, trust me. But you may as well be fucked up with fewer bullets grazing your vitals daily, no?” 

Santiago shakes his head as if getting “out” is simply impossible. “I’m doing something, man,” he mutters, as if he can’t muster the strength to believe his own line anymore. As if all his old mantras are dead. Washed away in the sand. “I’m trying to do something down there.” 

“This mother’s homeland bullshit again?” Frankie really does sound eminently tired. Trust Santiago to hit on an argument within an argument, right? He can always twist just about everything. “Wake up call, Pope. You can’t fix it. You don’t even care if you fix it. You just want to keep fucking running.” 

Santiago tears away from Frankie’s grip, pacing in a small circle. “Fuck you.”

Frankie raises his palms in the air. As if he really is about to give up. What does he do if every one of his best friends gives up on him, Santiago thinks? “Fine. Whatever. That’s your shit, not mine. But look at it this way. You tell me you can’t walk away from that life. Look me in the eye and tell me this. You okay walking away from her?”

“She walked away,” Santiago spits, even though he scarce believes it any longer. Yes, you might have walked away. But he was the one who ran. “She was the one who-”

“-I don’t care!” Frankie yells, quickly losing patience, waving his palms of surrender around.  “I’m tired of this. Shit - I do not care about these little technicalities. Yeah. Okay. She left, right? She moved on, Santiago. Moved along the road. Life is moving on. Don’t blame her because you’re standing still, cabrón.”

Santi shifts his weight from foot to foot, swipes his palm back and forth over his mouth. “Fuck you, man, standing still my ass.” 

“Oh, what?” Frankie retaliates. “You can come at me but I can’t come at you?” Santiago’s expression is stark, all straight lines and angles and shadowed planes. “You stayed and for what? To spite her? To prove yourself right? Jesus, Pope. Lorea has you chasing your tail. You’re going round in circles. You fuck your problems away but you wake up and, hey, guess what? They’re still there. Still a big steaming stack of turds in the corner.” Santiago curses under his breath, spitting insults and deflections, but Frankie is undeterred. “And the worst thing is, you could fucking have it! You could have everything you want! What the rest of us wouldn’t give for that, pendejo.” 

“Right, yeah. Thanks for that assessment. I’m just a fucking chump, is that it?” 

“Hey, look. It’s you. I’m just saying what I see.” Frankie’s mouth curls into a tentative smile, yet the blow dealt by Santiago’s stony expression manages to dull it. 

“Asshole.” 

“Whatever. I’m done helping. You don’t want her? Fine. You don’t have to change a thing. Can drive her away all on your own, I’m sure.” 

A hard swallow bobs down Santiago’s corded neck, and he chews on some words before offering them up. “And if I do? Want her?” 

“If you do? Then, Christ. Stop moaning about it like a little bitch and do something about it.” Santiago’s face sours all over again, and Frankie holds his hands up once more in surrender. “I’ve tried the softly, softly approach, man. We’ve all got our own shit going on. It’s past time for a fucking intervention with you.” Santiago writhes his jaw, but there is no further protest from him. Eventually, he concedes with the barest of nods. Frankie braces his arm on his shoulder, his expression growing wistful. “I just want to see you happy, man. I gotta know that some of us can still be happy. Of all of us? She fucking deserves it. And, look. You deserve it too, alright?”

Tears ball in Santiago’s eyes. It’s been a long time since he felt like he deserved to be happy. A very long time. He concedes, with the barest of nods. “It’s… I’m….” He chucks out a breath, frustrated at his lack of ability to get his words out, his mouth and brows pinching together.  

“What? Spit it out.” Frankie gives his shoulder an encouraging jostle. 

Santiago looks him in the eyes, about to level with him. Perhaps upon seeing the vulnerability there, the pilot’s eyes soften. “I’m fucking… scared, man.” 

Frankie’s eyes tighten with a wistful mirth, and his hand slips up to curl around the back of Santiago’s neck in a brotherly embrace, emotion flooding the cracks in his grit-flecked voice, making it warm and robust. “Santiago. Idiota. The way she looks at you, man? You don’t have a damn thing to be scared about.”

Tears glisten in Santiago’s eyes once more, and Frankie draws him into a tight, enclosing hug. Santiago lets himself collapse into it, wrapping his arms around Frankie’s broad, slender torso. After a few moments, and an extra squeeze for good measure, Frankie draws back, still cupping the nape of his buddy’s neck. 

“Cool down and come back to the house okay?” Frankie encourages, eyes needling Santiago for an answer until he nods. “Look. You okay?” He nods again, more adamantly this time as Frankie soothes him, dipping his chin down and raising his brows to hammer home the seriousness of his inquiry. “Yeah? Not gonna do anything stupid? Santiago?” 

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll be okay.” 

Frankie drops his arms, evidently feeling somewhat reassured. Yet, with Santiago, the fact that he promises not to do anything stupid bears repeating. “What are you gonna do?” 

“I’ll take a walk,” Santiago nods, his face drawn down into stern lines. “I’ll come back to the house.” He regards his friend, his eyes still painted with concern. 

Santiago frowns. Scratches the back of his neck. “Listen. You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Frankie grins, an element of deflection in it. “I’ll be okay.” He bumps Santiago in the shoulder with his fist. “Fuck you though.” 

“Yeah. Sounds about right. Listen, we gotta talk soon, huh?” 

The smile drops from Frankie’s face as he contemplates being the one placed under scrutiny. “Yep.” 

Santiago shuffles from foot to foot. “Will you…”

“Yeah,” Frankie reassures. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”  

“Love you, man,” Santiago calls, as Frankie turns on his heel. 

He calls back over his shoulder, walking a few backward paces. He comes to a halt a few metres from his friend. “Yeah, I know. Love you too.” 

“And… I’m sorry.” He had no right to drag Frankie’s shit into this. 

“Yeah. I know that too,” Frankie revs. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be if you ever say shit like that to me again. I’m too old for this bullshit, man.” Still, Frankie shrugs, indicating no hard feelings. “Anything else you want to say for yourself?” He juts his chin up. Watches Santiago struggle with the words, but allows him the time to pattern them out.  

“She said she wants to fucking marry me. Can you believe that? But… I’m not that guy, Cat. I’m not the picket fence guy. I…” A frown layers over his already stern face, and he gazes intently at a spot in the sand, mid-way between them. “I don’t want to be the guy who… ruins her life.” 

Frankie inhales deeply, letting the whole gust of breath go in one, puffing it out through his pouted mouth. He looks far too tired for this. “Fuck, I don’t know man. You’ve got so many hang-ups I could use you as a coat rack. But that doesn’t mean you’re not loved. And that’s enough, no? Picket fence doesn’t suit you? I don’t fucking know.” Frankie shrugs, palms tipped up towards the sky. “Shit. Have whatever kinda perimeter you want. Just -for Christ’s sake - make sure you put her on the right side of it. Don’t keep shutting her out.” 

“That’s some deep shit, Cat.” 

“Not just a pretty face, cariño.” 

Santi grins. 

“Now, are you done? I gotta fucking sleep.” 

Santiago nods, and watches as Frankie begins to turn away again. But, there must be something in Santiago’s face which causes him to think better of it. Instead, he surges towards the man, cupping the back of his head in his hand and planting a kiss to the middle of his forehead. The frown lingering there disappears. “I love you, asshole.” 

There are several things which bear repeating when it comes to Santiago.

“I know.” Santi stares intently at his feet. 

And, finally satisfied, apparently, Frankie seems willing to leave his buddy to it - granting him a moment to contemplate things alone. To contemplate you. To contemplate his words of advice. 

Santiago feels grateful for Frankie. Even feels bolstered for a moment, until he realises that what he’d assured him might not be true. That even a love that feels too abundant to bear? That it is not always enough. After all, you’d told him as much, hadn’t you? 

His love wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. 

Frankie walks away. 

Santiago will have to decide if he’s going to do the same. 

Or maybe he’ll run. 

After all. Isn’t that all he’s good for?

[diazsdimples]

Fuck it Friday!

Once again, back with some parenting Buddie fic. I swear to god I'm going to finish the first chapter and publish it soon. Tagged by the incredible @thewolvesof1998

Buck returned moments later in a flurry of activity, hooning around the table and setting up the gifts so they looked just right. He placed the biggest box in the middle of the table and surrounded Aidan’s spot with smaller gifts that him and Eddie had been picking out for a couple of weeks now. Christopher remembered with a jolt that he’d made a gift for Aidan and scuttled off to his room to grab it, returning just as Buck was standing back and looking at the presentation with approval. “Whatcha got there, bud?” he asked when Christopher appeared in the doorway, looking a little bashful. “I made Aid something” Christopher mumbled, blushing a little and looking at his feet. Ever since he’d officially become a teenager, Christopher had developed insecurities about just about everything. It had initially been small things, such as fussing about how his hair looked or moaning that his special orthotics made his shoes look weird, but recently, much to Buck and Eddie’s concern, it had progressed to doubting his abilities. Christopher had an affinity for art and had recently started creating some truly amazing works on his laptop with a programme Eddie had bought him a year or so ago. Buck would often wander into Christopher’s room to find him deep in concentration as he worked on his latest piece, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth and leg tapping up and down as he drew. Not only was it an excellent creative outlet for the kid but it had been having a positive, therapeutic affect on his fine motor control. However, recently, Buck had noticed Christopher becoming cagey about his work, turning his computer screen away whenever either of his dads walked into the room or getting snappy when they asked what he’d been working on. Buck had a feeling he was about to find out what it was. Christopher shyly held out the paper in his hand and Buck’s breath caught in his throat. Christopher had clearly put in a lot of effort into this. Staring up at Buck from the paper was an almost-perfect rendition of his son, grin so wide it almost takes up the whole page, with Christopher, Buck, and Eddie in the background. It’s so good in fact that it looks like someone took a photo of them and put a filter on it to make it look like a drawing but no, Buck knows Christopher has painstakingly placed every single stroke, every dash of colour. It’s enough to make a lump rise in his throat and he can’t do much more than clamp a hand over Christopher’s shoulder and pull him into his side. “Is it okay?” Christopher asks and Jesus, Buck wants to hurt whoever might have given Christopher the impression that his art is nothing short of worthy of being hung in the Louvre. “God, Chris, it’s amazing. I- I love it. Aid is going to love it”. He can’t stop staring at it, can’t stop marvelling at the talent of the kid still pressed into his side. To think, it’s almost been 7 years since he met Christopher and, in that time, he’s watched him blossom into a smart, talented and extremely quick-witted teenager. One he’s now proud to call his son. It’s enough to make Buck a little emotional.

(no pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @fionaswhvre @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @fruitandbubbles @watchyourbuck @callmenewbie @cal-daisies-and-briars @incorrect9-1-1 @evanbegins @thosetwofirefighters @wildlife4life @911onabc @malewifediaz @loserdiaz @monsterrae1 @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @smilingbuckley @gayedmundodiaz @hoodie-buck (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[idyllcy]

from one admirer to another : new year's eve?

pairing: leon kennedy x reader || masterpost: from one admirer to another

synopsis: from one admirer to another, an online penpal service, allows for two people with common interests to write to each other without ever revealing their actual address! Luckily for both you and Leon, you get matched up! What do eggs and Christmas even have in common anyway? sure hope it's that modeling business and NOT that Ada Wong addiction.

featuring: reader as scrambled eggs // leon as christmas

Oh, Christmas,

An Ada shrine? Send me a photo of it next time, will you? Or an artist's rendition. You barely doodle on the pages, so it feels a little bland or something. I have fun sending you quick doodles of me kissing Ada on the cheek, so you should do that too. Come on, I know you want to.

I'm sure you do a great job at pretending to be normal. I do too... granted no one decides to ask me about my hobbies. My hobbies include writing and fighting Ada-antis on twitter. Poor woman is already so hot and still has to deal with haters :( god forbid a woman exist.

As for that love advice you're asking for... you're crazy. You're literally crazy (;¬_¬). Like, come on. Just have your manager stalk them down. I'm sure it's not something uncommon in the industry. If anything, find a big event that they'll be walking. Even if they're a model that "doesn't do many shoots" surely you'll find them eventually. I'm kidding on the stalking part, by the way.

I read the added part on the back of the envelope that you had me as well, and honestly, if they like Ada, GO BOND. Unless you want nothing to happen, then keep on going with your day-to-day. Who knows, maybe if you throw that fishing line out you might actually catch that fish you want. But then again, why should you listen to me? I'm just a penpal.

The new glhf <3 chapter reaction was so real LMFAO I read it and sat there for a solid ten minutes just processing what the hell had just happened after reading it. It was not cute! Okra needs to AUGHHHHHH. ugh.

Updates in my life... not much, I don't think. I was helping my friends host the cupsleeve event and when Ada walked in I nearly passed out. I had to take a lap outside. That woman is so hot and the line to get an autograph was unrealistically long so I... just had my friends get my phone signed for me... oopsie. Call that nepotism or smth.

Thanks for the small trinket from the event! I'm sending you a handful of miscellaneous stickers that I dug up from my drawer. Sorry, I gotta go to a convention or something to get more Ada merch. My stash of things to send people can only last me so long.

Happy New Year!! scrambled eggs

You drop the letter off in the morning, stepping into the car with Ada as she rolls her eyes and tells you to behave while accompanying her at a shoot. You linger around, blinking at the clock as you spend most of the day on your phone.

"Come on. We have one last shoot."

"We?" You raise a brow. "I didn't book anything today."

"It's a personal one to post on New Years." She hums. "You know? Like we do each year?"

"Is that why you got extensions two days ago?" You raise a brow, following her as you wave bye to a handful of the people. "It was for this shoot?"

"I had to get them because of another shoot, and I just ended up keeping them on instead of taking them out." She raises a brow at you. "I'm glad you decided to dress up today."

"Is it just us?"

"Every year, sweetheart."

You grab her arm, grinning ear to ear as she rolls her eyes.

"You gotta post it on your main, though."

"Of course. I'll even tag your model account the company made you create with not even a tenth of the followers you have on your fic account." Ada hums. "Your photography needs to be shown."

You pretend to be hurt, stumbling after her in the street as the two of you get ready to meet up.

"I'm putting a short-haired wig on you anyway, though."

"Wow, you hate my long hair that much?"

"No, no." You huff. "I like your short hair better."

prev letter : masterlist : next post

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Florence pregnant is such a cute idea and I loved your fic about the baby talk! Can I request a fic on Florence being pregnant and the baby being born? WLW couple, first baby and they are so excited!

── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, smut (or at least I tried), established relationship, pregnancy

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited, not proofread, language, smut, wlw sex, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving)

word count: 2,504

note: Thank you for requesting this, I had so much fun writing it. I hope you don't mind I added the smut part, it just sort of happened. I really hope you like it. Also guys, (not sure if anyone actually reads this part) in two days I'm going on holidays, so i don't think I will be able to post anything, maybe some Florence's pictures/videos from time to time. But I can't make any promises. I'll tried to work on more fics tho, so once I'm back I'd just post them. I only have one request left for the moment, so I will try to post that before leaving. Also I was thinking of writing for Wanda and maybe some other Marvel characters. What do you guys think? I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <3

note 2: Since this is sort of my universe, I decided that a woman can get another woman pregnant so this would be Y/n and Florence's biological child. Yeah, I don't want men around Florence, even if they are fictional and technically created by me. Flo is for the girls, the gays and the theys.

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

It was raining outside when Florence told you the best news ever. 

You were looking out the window, admiring the rain. There was something so peaceful about the rain that just calmed you down, as though it was washing away all your worries. Billie sat next to you, cuddling in your thighs. She would stir when hearing thunder and get closer to you, as if looking for your protection. 

You were lost in your thoughts that didn’t realise Florence kneeling in front of you until she taped your knee, demanding your attention. 

“What is it?” you asked, you couldn’t read what she was feeling but knew she needed you to know something. 

“Do you remember me being sick the last couple of days?”

“Yeah, what about it? Are you sick again?”

“No, not quite,” Florence looked at Billie, trying to find some comfort and reassurance in her dog. She was scared of your reaction. “I, um, I realised why I was feeling sick.”

“What was it, baby?” you grabbed her hands and squeezed them softly, letting her know you were listening carefully to every word she was saying. She then looked at you, took a big breath and just spilled the words out of her mouth. 

“I’m pregnant,” she mumbled quickly, as if not actually wanting to tell you. 

It took you a whole second to understand her words, your eyes lighted up, a small smile forming on your lips. “You are? One hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, I took three tests. All positive,” her eyes were starting to get watery. 

You hugged her at the confirmation, tears forming in your eyes. But they weren't sad tears. Florence let out all the breath she had been holding since she saw the results of her tests once she felt your warmth. 

“Oh my god. We are going to be mums. I’m so happy. I love you so much, Flo. So so much,” you kissed all her face. 

Billie started to bark at the two of you, almost as if she knew that soon there was going to be a little human keeping her company as well. 

“You’re not mad?” Florence said, tears now running down her cheeks. 

“Why would I be mad? This is the best news ever. I’m going to call my mum, she’s going to love this. I can’t believe this. This is the greatest day of my life,” you kissed her lips and quickly grabbed your phone to tell all your acquaintances about the news. 

Florence could only look at you in wonder. She couldn't believe that just minutes ago she was afraid to tell you about this. How silly of her.

[...]

You guys were waiting for the doctor to call you in. Florence was now three months in. Her belly was showing a bit, but not enough to tell if it was a pregnant belly or a beer belly. You thought that it looked good on her, sometimes even hot. 

Minutes later you guys were called for the check up. This would be the first time you would look at the screen and see some kind of human resemblance. 

Florence was lying in the stretcher, her hand in yours giving you a squeeze. She was so excited to see her baby. 

“How are you guys doing?”

“Everything’s just fine, Doc,” she answered. 

“Glad to hear that. Okay, let’s take a look at the baby, shall we?” you only squeezed Florence's hand even harder. 

A few minutes later, when the doctor was done setting everything up, the screen lit up. At first you couldn’t understand what your eyes were looking at. The doctor said that she was taking measurements of the baby's head, hence the big circle taking up the whole screen. She then moved the instruments further down Florence belly and said that she was now taking measurements of the baby's femur. She did a few more examinations and then said:

“Okay, everything seems good. Now, let’s listen to the baby’s heart beat.” The three of you went silent and then, a second later, the room was filled by a loud thumping noise. “Wow, that’s a strong healthy heart, guys,” you could only smile at Florence, your eyes getting watery in just a second. “Okay, we’re done with the check ups. Let me show what you want,” she moved the instrument along Flo’s belly, and a second later a baby-like image showed on the screen. 

“Oh, god,” that was all you could say, mesmerised by the simple image in front of you. They were tiny, and all you could see was just their silhouette, but you knew they were perfect already. 

You looked at Florence, tears in the corner of her eyes as well, pecked her lips, and whispered in her ear how much you love her. 

[...]

“What about Rafaela?” 

“We are not naming the baby after you, Raffie,” the youngest pugh rolled her eyes pretending she was mad at her sister’s response. 

You and Florence were having dinner with her family, and the baby’s name came up as a topic for conversations. 

“Raffie, I’m sorry. But they are naming the kid after me. Y/n told me earlier, but she didn’t want to upset you,” Toby teased her little sister. You could only roll your eyes at the two of them, trying to hold your smile at Raffie’s clearly now upset face. 

“Toby, stop bothering your sister,” Deborah scolded him.

“I actually like the name Toby,” Florence added, just to annoy her sister even further. 

“Oh, come on, Flo. We can name our child after your brother of all people,” you winked at Raffie. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toby asked in disbelief. 

You looked at Raffie and the both of you just burst in laughter.

[...]

Florence was now seven months in. Now everyone could tell that you knocked her up. 

You guys were watching a marvel movie. Your arm around Florence while your other hand was trailing small circles in her belly, hoping to get the baby moving. 

“I always liked the name Natasha,” Florence squinted her eyes at you, trying to tell if you were being serious or not. 

“We are not naming our kid after one of your favourite marvel superheroes.”

“Pff, that’s not why I–,” she raised her eyebrow at you. “Okay, fine you got me. What about Natalia?” you tried again. 

“Y/n.”

“Okay, fine. You’re boring.”

“Oh, yeah?” a grin forming on her face. “Am I boring when I do this?” she moved her mouth to your neck, her breath instantly making you shiver but then it turned into a burning feeling once she gently kissed your sensitive skin. 

“You are a bit less boring now,” you tried to suppress a whimper escaping from your mouth. 

“What if I do this?” her hand moved down your shirt to find your breast, you silently thanked god that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

As soon as her hand touched your sensitive nipple a moan escaped from your mouth, but was quickly cut off with Florence’s lips. Her tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, more moans falling from your mouth but muffled by Florence’s lips. Her hands trailing circles and pinching your nipple. 

Once you guys pulled apart to take a breath, she took off your shirt, your whole chest now on display and for her to touch as she wanted. Her right hand went straight to your left breast while her mouth went straight for your right nipple. Her tongue circling it, sometimes even biting it. 

She then moved her lips further down your body, leaving love bites all over your abdomen. Once she reached your shorts, you helped her take them off of you. Panties included. Now you were all hers. She kissed the insides of your tights, getting closer to your core, where you needed her the most. 

“Flo…” you trailed off, not being able to say much, your mind too foggy to think of anything else but her. 

She licked up your slit, earning a moan from you. A grin on her face knowing you were all hers, in that moment and for the rest of your life. She put her mouth and tongue to work, sucking and licking as much as she could. She tasted your wetness on her lips making her aroused. 

“Stop teasing,” you begged her. 

“What do you need, baby?” her hot breath caused goosebumps. Florence knew what you needed —what you wanted. But she needed to hear from you first. Being pregnant made Florence even hornier than when she wasn’t. She blamed it on the hormones. But truth be told, she had always been this horny, but only for you. There was something about you that made her knees go weak everytime she got a glimpse of your body.

“Your fingers,” a whimper escaped from your lips once she bit your core. “I need your fingers, Flo.”

Without wasting another second Florence pushed two fingers inside you, a small cry came out of your mouth. 

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well,” you said before getting her tongue back to work. 

She curled her fingers inside you and stared a small pace, out and in of you, while her tongue attacked your clit. You were a mess under her. Your knuckles were turning white from your thigh grip on the bed sheets, your back arching at her touch, your legs spreading wide open for her to have more access to you. 

She started to thrust her fingers in you faster once she noticed you were close to your realise. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Florence moved her head up just a bit so she could see your face. Your lips were apart, moans coming out of them, your brows were furrowed, she enjoyed that view. Especially you moaning out her name over and over again. 

You felt the knot in your stomach tightening, you knew you were about to finish. “Flo…” you whispered.

“Let go, baby,” and as if on cue, you felt the knot disappear, your hand moved to her head, pushing her even closer to you, her tongue making you scream her name. A soft moan escaped from Florence lips while trying to suck all of your juices. 

She guided you while coming out of your high, her fingers slowly moving out of you. She then sucked at her fingers, wanting to get as much of you as she could. You already missed her fingers inside of you. 

“So sweet,” she said tasting you on her fingers. Then lied next to you, kissing your forehead. 

“I love you,” you muttered, already getting sleepy. 

“I love you more,” she replied, covering both of your bodies with the bedsheets. 

[...]

About three months later, you and Florence were doing some gardening when Florence felt her legs get wet. 

“Um, Y/n, I think my water just broke.”

“Oh, shit. Holy fuck. Oh my god is happening, oh my god,” you rushed inside to get the bag you and Florence had packed a few days ago, knowing the baby would come any day. “Holy shit, Flo, we have everything right? Did you…?

“Y/n, calm down. It’s going to be fine,” she squeezed your shoulder.

“I think I’m going to faint, baby,” you eyes rolled back for a second, Florence shaking you body so it would work properly. 

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Y/n. I’m the one about to pull a baby out of me, okay? Keep it together,” she suppressed the need to slap some sense into you.

[...]

You couldn’t stop looking at her, mesmerised by her entirely. 

You had been waiting for 9 months and now there she was. You thought the greatest day of your life was when Florence told you she was pregnant, but now this was the greatest day of your life. The day that your daughter had been born.

Florence had given birth to your beautiful daughter just an hour ago. Once your ears were filled by her loud crying, tears forming in your eyes as well as in Florence’s. This was the moment the both of you had been waiting for the last 9 months —meeting her. And god, she was perfect. The first thing you recognized in your daughter was Florence’s little nose, you chuckled at the similarity. 

Not only was she healthy but she was breathtaking. You knew all born babies were ugly, that was the rule of life. But it seemed that for some reason the rule didn’t apply to your babygirl. Because she was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, as beautiful and mesmerising as your Florence. You couldn't be more proud of her, for growing this little human inside of her. 

“I love her so much already,” you whispered to Florence, trying not to disturbed the baby in her arms.

“She’s as perfect as you are,” a smile plastered on her face once she looked at you. 

“Oh, come on, those are your genes. Just look at her,” you kissed Florence’s forehead. She giggled at your words. 

“You want to hold her?” she was already giving the tiny human to you. 

Once she was in your arms, you felt completed. Not that anything was missing, but it was as if things should have always been this way. With Florence right by your side. The baby stirred under your hands, getting used to your warmth and touch, but it was af she could tell that it was her mama holding her and stop moving around, falling back into her sleep. You poked her hand with your pinky finger, trying your best to not disturb her but you wanted to touch her, as though you were making sure she was real. You gasped once her tiny hand opened and grabbed your pinky finger. 

Florence was looking at the both of you with watery eyes. She couldn’t believe that her daughter was finally there with her, you holding her close to your chest. She didn’t know she could love someone as much as she loved you, and there it was, right in front of her. She couldn't wait for everyone to meet her. She knew she would be loved by everyone, but loved the most by the two of you. 

“What about Daisy?” you whispered to Florence. 

“Are you sure it’s not a marvel character?” she teased you. 

You looked at her, trying to find an answer, the truth was that it was a marvel character’s name, but you had always loved that name regardless of that.

“I, um…” she chuckled at your missing words. 

“It’s perfect. Little Daisy,” your eyes lit up at her words. 

“Little Daisy,” you repeated, it did sound perfect. 

[...]

Bonus scene (moments before driving Florence to the hospital):

911 operator: 911, what’s your emergency?

Y/n: Yeah, my wife is going into labour *trying to not freak out*

911 operator: Is this her first child?

Florence: DON’T YOU DARE.

Y/n: No, this is her wife.

(I thought this would be funny)

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

-M

[arimiadev]

Visual Novel Fest - Steam's attempt to show good will to VN devs

it's August 14th, 10AM CST as I write this, just a couple hours shy of the end of the first Visual Novel Festival held by Steam. I want to take a look at how sloppily this event was handled and how I hope (but doubt) things will change in the future.

Steam has realized since the start of Covid that, because they have the monopoly on PC gaming, they can and should go further with promoting games on their platform. when all of the gaming events were canceled in 2020, Steam took this as an opportunity to launch an idea they most likely had on the back burner for years-

festivals.

these festivals are events hosted on Steam where games that are submitted (and accepted) are promoted on the front page of Steam, a highly coveted spot for developers. these events are all themed like the puzzle games fest or the visual novel fest or the now multi annual steam next fest which features a variety of demos.

to put it in layman's terms, Steam now hosts festivals because they (are supposed to) give a big boost in visibility to games on their platform, a lot of which that will be discounted and sell a lot more copies than on normal days. developers want to get into these festivals because of this added visibility and increase in sales. it's a win win for both groups.

so now, in August 2023, we find ourselves at the Visual Novel Fest. for context, I have been an indie visual novel dev for almost a decade and have been a verified Steam developer for 5 or so years. Steam has held various VN-themed sales and such (namely publisher sales, like Sekai Project's occasional publisher sales) but not a festival just for visual novels. this is a wonderful chance for us indies to get a tiny bit of extra visibility, as selling VNs is hard!

the first problem- we can't get in.

festivals on Steam are opt-in. these themed sales are limited to games that can fit the themes, but these limits are put on the backend- that is, to say, only games that their Algorithm determines should get in can get in.

we think that this Algorithm checks for tags- if the mystery games fest is coming up, it sends out an email to games that have the "mystery" tag on it as games that can enter. however, this system is... it's broken. it's just broken. it was broken for the horror fest, it was broken for the mystery fest, and oh god was it broken for the visual novel fest.

lots of indie visual novels that were properly tagged as "visual novels" with the tag as one of the top tags for the game were never emailed about the fest. instead, we had to reach out to Steam and file an appeal.

these appeals took several weeks.

I don't know of any devs who submitted an appeal that were denied, but it is quite frustrating to have visual novels that are clearly visual novels not be invited to the festival and then have to wait several weeks before someone accepts the appeal.

but once we got invited to the fest, it was all blue skies from ther-

what do you mean they overpromised on features

Steam does additional promotions for their festivals on social media and such, namely making a trailer for the festival that gets shared to a lot of people- there's a lot of eyes on this trailer and they create it from games invited to the festival.

Steam reached out to several western developers and localizers about being featured for this event, including a visual novel I worked on. these features were much more stringent and required us to do more, such as requiring our games to be on sale during the fest (for normal submissions to fest, discounts are not required but encouraged).

one thing some of us skipped over, though... their wording was specifically "we may feature your game". not that they will feature the games that they specifically emailed and followed their stricter requirements, but that they may.

but I'm sure they'll pick some great representations of the visual novel mediu-

what do you mean the walking dead got featured

(click through this embed to find the video)

Steam had emailed several developers of actual visual novels and instead went with the cash grab option since they realized most VNs don't make money and decided to throw the "visual novel" part of the festival out the window.

the real kicker- the walking dead shouldn't have been allowed into the festival by Steam's own guidelines.

in the eligibility guidelines for the visual novel fest (edit: this page is now defunct because I guess they deleted it now that the fest is over??), they specifically mention that games that allow players to free roam will most likely not be eligible.

a ton of actual visual novels weren't invited to this event but don't worry, an interactive game without visual novel elements got featured.

so how did the festival go?

let's talk about the actual fest now.

the walking dead pretty much stayed at the top of categories for the entire festival, overpowering actual visual novels like ace attorney, steins;gate, ai: the somnium files, clannad, and many, many more.

Steam uses sub-genres to help players find more specific types of games easier, but very, very few of these are actually useful for narrative elements as they're mostly geared towards gameplay elements.

on the left is genres and on the right is sub-genres on Steam that were used as tags on games entered into the fest. as you can see, these fail to let players easily find the kinds of visual novels they might be interested in- what if I specifically want to find fantasy yuri? or boys love with trans characters? by in large, these tags are meant for gameplay oriented software, not narrative oriented software like visual novels.

Steam attempts to remedy this by adding categories on the page that has similar games together, but these ultimately fail because of how few there are.

first we have detective as a category. not too bad.

next is psychological horror and puzzle. again, not bad.

after that we have dating sim. most of these look to be dating sims by both the more traditional term (dating sim = a stat raiser with romantic elements) and the broader Western version (dating sim = romance game with multiple routes). I haven't played these specific ones so this is just a cursory glance.

we also have an otome category, wonderful! I wish these categories had a description underneath them, as if we want more people to get into visual novels then they need to have a way to learn these terms easily- "otome" does not immediately tell you "this is a game intended for women where romancing men is typically the goal", so I wish they had included some kind of descriptor for non-VN players glancing at the fest.

last but not least, we have the lgbt+ category- wait that's it?!

yes, those are the only categories highlighted as part of the festival, 3 of which are mystery game-oriented. want queer games, games with lesbians, games about trans experiences, and more? they're all in 1 category despite the wide array of queer visual novels on Steam.

it's extremely sad that one of the most diverse mediums out there always gets pigeonholed by Steam and the gaming community as a whole time and time again. I had good hopes for this festival but it was an extreme let down.

some developers I talked to were able to get a fair amount of visibility from this event, some barely hit more than average views. I hope Steam fests continue to evolve and Steam will expand their sub-genres, but I don't have much hope that they'll be half as good as itch.io's searching functions.

yes its time to shill itch.io

have YOU browsed the indie darling site itch.io recently?? why not??

itch.io is a website for sharing and playing indie games. it's completely free to use, easy to find games you might like, and pretty versatile for devs who might want to sell games, DLC, digital content, and more.

want to find visual novels that are dating sims with female protags and queer? that's easy to find!

want otome visual novels that are only about an hour long? here you go!

want visual novels for windows that are cute and have multiple endings? there's almost 200!

itch.io has a much, much wider range of tags that can be inputted by developers and allows you to search for platform, price, average game length, accessibility features, and more.

Steam will probably never be toppled as the place to get PC games unless they drive their company into the ground, but that doesn't mean we have to settle for it. there are other platforms we can find new indie visual novels and it feels like we're on the edge of a visual novel renaissance for localized VNs on consoles.

so yeah that's my recap of what I've seen from Steam's messy visual novel fest. you can find my own visual novels over here, I make queer games with a focus on fantasy. I also work at Studio Élan, an indie studio making yuri and other lgbt+ focused games.

[catholic-character-tournament]

Round 2 - Side A

Propaganda below ⬇️

Ronan Lynch

Uhh fun fact he saw the devil flash his father once, and that's one of the reasons he goes to church on Sundays <3

context for this scene from book 2: ronan is in church with his older brother declan, younger brother matthew, and ghost friend noah "Joseph Kavinsky isn’t someone I want you being around,” Declan added. “Don’t snort. I’m serious.” Ronan merely invested a look with as much contempt as he could muster. A lady reached over the top of Noah to pat Matthew’s head fondly before continuing down the aisle. She didn’t seem to care that he was fifteen, which was all right, because he didn’t, either. Both Ronan and Declan observed this interaction with the pleased expressions of parents watching their prodigy at work. Declan repeated, “Like, actually dangerous.” Sometimes, Declan seemed to think that being a year older gave him special knowledge of the seedier side of Henrietta. What he meant was, did Ronan know that Kavinsky was a cokehead. In his ear, Noah whispered, “Is crack the same thing as speed?” Ronan didn’t answer. He didn’t think it was a very church-appropriate conversation. “I know you think you’re a punk,” Declan said. “But you aren’t nearly as bad ass as you think you are.” “Oh, go to hell,” Ronan snapped, just as the altar boys broached the rear doors. “Guys,” Matthew pleaded. “Be holy.”

Gay Catholic streetracing farmer. Consumed by catholic guilt NOT because of the gay thing but because he can Create things in a way he thinks should be only God's business. Will literally roll up to mass on sunday morning still drunk and bloody.

THIS GOTH KID IS LITERALLY GOD. This is a god trapped in the body of a Catholic teen and if he ever stopped feeling Catholic guilt he’d end the world!!. How is your confession every week that you creating a whole new being? Babygirl the God is coming from inside the house

eldritch entity from beyond the mortal plane wants to be a Real Human Boy, becomes a real (ish!) human (ish!) boy, goes to mass every sunday

Gay boy got his crush an apartment above his church so he could have his two favorite things in one place

gay. I'm not caught up the the series but I went through the tag when the latest book came out and I remember seeing a quote that said he worried if his boyfriend would make it to heaven when he dies because of his agnostic tendencies.

Kid is like a dream warlock who creates psychic horrors and never goes to confession because why would he? and he’s gay

There are no words

basically ronan's powers are inherited from his dead father niall and it means he can bring anything from a dream into real life. so he's got this whole crisis about whether he is a living piece of blasphemy because men are not meant to have the powers of gods or whether he literally is god. which is not acceptable to him for a number of reasons but mostly because he hates himself. his love interest's name is adam and adam lives in a small apartment above a church which the book says focuses the objects of his worship neatly into one building. I love them both dearly. also, this entire page makes me feel like I'm going insane. Ronan Lynch believed in heaven and hell. Once, he’d seen the devil. It had been a low, late morning at the Barns when the sun had burned off the mist and then burned off the chill and then burned the edges off the ground until everything shimmered with heat. It never got hot in those protected fields, but that morning, the air sweated with it. Ronan had never seen cattle pant before. All of the cows heaved and stuck their tongues out as they frothed with the heat. His mother sent Ronan to put them in the shade of the cattle barn. Ronan had gone to the searing metal gate, and as he did, he’d glimpsed his father, already in the barn. Four yards away from him had stood a red man. He was not truly red, but the burned orange of a fire ant. And he was not truly a man, because of the horns and the hooves. Ronan remembered the alienness of the creature, how real it had been. Every costume in the world had gotten it wrong; every drawing in every comic book. They’d all forgotten that the devil was an animal. Looking at the red man, Ronan had been struck by the intricacy of the body, how many miraculous pieces moved smoothly in harmony, no different than his own. Niall Lynch had had a gun in hand — the Lynches had an enormous number of guns of all sizes — and just as Ronan had opened the gate, his father had shot the thing about thirteen times in the head. With a shake of its horns, the unharmed devil had presented its genitalia to Niall Lynch before bounding off. It was an image that had yet to leave Ronan. And so Ronan became a reverse evangelist. The truth burst and grew inside him, and it was laid upon him to share it with no one. No one was meant to see hell before they get there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.

Friar Tuck

If you use the picture of furry friar tuck from the Disney Robin Hood, bless you 🙏

[oh-saints]

sweetest devotion (pt. 5)

everything was sort of a wake-up call for mason mount and he was now questioning every of his decision he'd made, he makes, and he'll make.

playboy!mason x princess!OC

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but particularly extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience and mentions of violence in this chapter

wc: 2.7k

note: I'M FINALLY BACK! and as i’ve promised previously, here’s some happ(ier) updates for you guys! indented & italics part were flashback. but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie @808heartz <3 (lmk if you wanna be added!)

<<part 4 - part 6>> sweetest devotion masterlist here

as soon as elena stepped an inch outside of his property, mason didn’t think twice to slam the door shut and ran back inside to serena’s aide.

while she was well known for being dubbed calm beauty—in line with her majestic name inspired by the word serene—mason had never wanted someone to be boisterous it could hurt his ears. anything, really, other than the sight of serena, helplessly so, curled over to a foetal position in order to protect their baby.

their baby.

ironic how it was a life they created together yet serena was the only one protecting them and mason was the one who, despite the indirectness, had a hand in this entire ordeal. if it wasn’t because of mason, serena wouldn’t be lying on the floor, holding her bulging stomach whilst hiding her held-back grunts behind her gritted teeth.

this whole situation with his little family wasn’t the most ideal scenario but mason was anything but a murderer. his parents raised him better than that and yet, mason could easily have bloods in his hands just now.

mason could taste bile on the tip of his tongue, so bitter at the reality that—no matter however put—mason was the one who put two lives in danger tonight. fucking hell, mason didn’t even know the gender of his own flesh and blood yet.

“serena,” mason kneeled beside serena, trying to lift her up from the floor so he could get her some help in the speed of light. “serena, talk to me. how do you feel?”

mason’s question was only met by another pained grunt, followed by an erratic breathing pattern. he could sense serena was trying to control her breaths in between her cry for help.

“i need you to hang in there, okay?” mason had never been so lucky he was a footballer, accustomed by now to carry weights while running on a daily training basis, as he was reaching the door of his Lamborghini with her in his arms. “on scale 1 to 10, where are you?”

but as soon as the Chelsea star placed her down the passenger seat, serena cried out an eerily screeching shriek while her hands gripped the back of his neck on a death lock. mason’s ears were ringing in alert, his eyes looked everywhere for anything that could’ve possibly caused worse pain for serena.

as he looked down, he realised it could be anything because blood was already smeared everywhere—the leather seat, the dashboard, the sideboard, the floor of his car, the concrete floor of his garage… leading all the way back up to the house.

it was red all over and he’d never feared for having painted the town red.

it was red all over and he’d never feared for anything else than now.

“god, please,” serena wailed, tears running down her eyes now/ “please, make them stop.”

“I need you to hang in there, you got me?” mason’s hands were as fast as his feet on the pitch now, buckling her up while trying to soothe the back of her hand, the one cradling the protruding belly, in hope to reduce her stress. “you’ve been doing great so far, serena…”

the last line was honestly the red thread serena tried to hang her last bits of sanity left. because mason was right—she’d been doing well so far, despite all odds, and if she failed now, she’d only fail her only friend in this lifetime; her own baby. she had to make it.

serena’s deathly grip on mason’s free hand—as the other was holding the steering wheel—was the only thing that kicked off mason’s feet to push the pedal till the speedometer showed he’d breached the speeding limit. fuck repercussions, this was life and death.

the crispy screeching sound from his wild driving—drifting would be a better word choice, now that he’d thought about it—surprised the on-call doctors and hospital staffs. some immediately threw away their coffee and reached mason’s aide before he even called for help, and he was grateful for that because serena’s wailing certainly messed up his logical thinking at this point.

“what happened, sir?”

“she—”

mason didn’t know where to start in all honesty. and it was funny, the confusion, because he wanted to tell everything so serena could get the best treatment possible but mason’s mouth couldn’t seem to summon the words. why was that?

was it because he was afraid of people’s judgement towards her? towards them? towards their so-called arrangement? was it because he didn’t want people to know what he’d done to her? was it because he was ashamed that he was ultimately the source of her on-going pain? was it because he was afraid people would jail him for becoming a monster he’d never intended himself to be?

there’s also murderer who never intends to kill their victim in the first place, his father used to say whenever he gave lame excuses for not meaning things he said.

mason wanted to throw up. he truly had bloods in his hands. literally and figuratively.

how could he possibly be a father in this state?

“mr. mount,” someone tapped him by the shoulder, and only then did he realise they’d rolled away serena to another room. “I need you to tell me what happened to your wife.”

his wife. his fully, legally-wedded wife.

good god, he needed to puke.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“mr. mount,”

hours later, a nurse finally came by to reach him, who’d been sitting and staring at the white walls lifelessly for the past hour, waiting for any news from anyone that had taken serena into their custody and care. now that he was called, mason stood up immediately, the pathetic excuse of plastic chair squeaked at the sudden movement.

“how’s my wife?”

for someone who proudly claimed he doesn’t have a wife and only a mother to his child—to ben chilwell’s face, no less—mason’s tongue rolled the word perfectly. like it wasn’t his first time calling serena his wife in public. like he didn’t even have to practice them. like it was natural for him. like it was supposed to be.

“they’re waking her up right now, and the baby’s doing fine,” the nurse smiled and mason let out a bated breath he didn’t know he was holding. “you can see her in 15 minutes.”

but mason didn’t want 15 minutes. mason wanted to be the first person to see it himself that serena was okay, that their baby was okay, that they both were okay, and that he didn’t hurt either of them.

the forward player let out a relieved sigh when he reached the assigned room for serena, his eyes zeroed on the sight of the mother lying peacefully now. gone was the agony from her face, despite the whiteness casted all over the pretty face, and mason had never been more in peace than knowing that their baby was also doing okay.

at least for now.

the nurse checked up on them every now and then, making sure the IV drip was working fine, her overall condition was okay. some even reminded mason that he could leave briefly to grab the both of them some garbs, an older nurse even went as far as scolding him to wash up and change his bloody pyjama top.

but how could he leave serena behind when he knew his crazy girlfriend could come in and assault serena once more behind his back?

right, elena. the big, fat elephant in the room. what to do with her?

in all honesty, mason was still in disbelief. he wanted to say elena was lying—possessed even—but he’d seen it with his own eyes. he truly had a hard time digesting the reality where elena—his sweet elena, unable to kill even a spider—was capable of hurting someone. a pregnant lady, moreover, until she bleed her life out. for him, nothing made sense regarding this whole situation.

or was that elena’s true self, one that mason didn’t know of?

“mason,” serena groaned, breaking his train of thoughts. her throat must’ve been very sore. “water.”

without further ado, mason immediately ran for a glass of water outside, as well as informing a nurse—the entire nurse station was perhaps a better fitted word—and anyone who knew their real arrangement would’ve been surprised to see how responsive mason was to every of serena’s whim that day. a fake husband shouldn’t demand fiercely for someone to attend his fake wife as soon as possible on a lazy Sunday morning.

“do you need anything else?” mason asked when he got back from fetching his delivery order, despite the nurses’ adamant complaint towards the fact he kept providing serena the patient with things she wasn’t suppose to be having yet. “a pillow or anything?”

“no, I’ve had enough,” serena smiled meekly. “thank you, mason.”

mason could feel his lips tugging upwards by a bit. “you’re wel—”

“didn’t I tell you,” mason and serena looked up to the dramatic door opening, only to find her personal doctor barging in, obviously pissed at the situation at hand. despite not glancing the married couple a glance, the doctor’s expression said it all. “that the next time you’re assaulted again I’m going to hunt your husband down?”

mason’s chest fell heavier than the biggest rock found on earth as soon as his brain could register the next time and assaulted again in the same sentence.

“oh there he is,” the doctor exclaimed, rather sarcastic this time around, as she looked up from the clipboard she was holding. “looks like I don’t need hunting after all.”

in another circumstances, mason would probably have a clap back to the doctor’s jab. but he didn’t have it in him, not today, not after learning too much all at once. he didn’t even think he had the right space of mind to even nod at whatever the doctor was saying, everything just went off before his eyes like a shinkansen train.

“I need you to be honest with me, serena,” mason didn’t waste another breath after the doctor—finally—walked away from the pristine white room. “the doctor said next time. when was the first time?”

serena’s breath was caught in her throat. she didn’t think mason would pay attention to such detail, for he was looking at distance during the whole time the doctor was berating her.

“serena, I need you to answer me.”

serena had been in countless intense court and constitutional hearings full of intimidating men greedy for more power and they’d never been able to tackle her face first—thus her given dib of calm beauty—but this… the way eternal fire was blazing in mason’s eyes, full of determination, hatred, vengeance all at once. it was certainly something she’d never wish to be on the receiving end.

mason turned her into a coward desperate in need of hiding. the papers back in her country would have a field day if they found out about this.

“serena,” mason clicked his tongue, obviously annoyed at her silence. “I’m not in a very patient mood.”

angry and bothered mason was certainly not a sight and side serena would want to see of him again. “remember the one week you thought I went missing?”

mason’s breath immediately got stuck on the airway.

it didn’t take a genius to figure out the main takeaway for her answer, and mason had never felt more useless and more similar to a piece of shit at that moment. how could he not, when he remembered precisely he once harboured an ill thought that serena wasn’t taking their arrangement seriously when she was the mastermind behind the plan?

but right now wasn’t the perfect time to dwell on his misjudgement. as much as serena’s words invoked a churning feeling inside of him, mason needed to know everything. “what did she do to you?”

serena was visibly gripping the blanket beneath her palms, playing with the fabric, while her lips were pursed in deep thought. oh, how much penny mason would pay for her thoughts in this moment… did she hate talking about this? if she did, which part of the incident did she particularly hate? or did she just want to forget about his? worse, was she contemplating not to tell him at all like the first time it happened?

“she always comes at wee hours, drunk and asking for you,” always? mason could feel his brows curling in confusion. “she always comes on times whenever you’re staying over the night and she always asks for you. I never let her in because you’re obviously sleeping so she gets physical about it.”

elena always comes whenever I left her for his own home? mason had to remind himself to breathe, gathering himself because there was no way he could continue this conversation without cooling his hand but that was the last thing he’d want to impose serena, especially not in her current recovering state.

“always?”

he needed her to confirm his hearing didn’t fail him, and serena averting his gaze was the most important answer mason needed.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

if mason was living in an animated world, his head would’ve been drawn with blowing smoke coming out of his crown and ears, as he drove down a familiar lane he wouldn’t wish to visit again.

the smoke was blowing harder and darker as his feet grazed down the asphalt towards the house he only stepped in a day ago—how time changes everything was real in every sense of the word. and everything serena had recounted back at the hospital didn’t help his mood at all. in fact, the more he recalled what she said, the more he gained the courage to burn the house if he could.

why and how could he even muster up that vile of intention, he didn't know. but he didn't want to know now, that would be a question for another day.

“serena, why don’t you talk to me about this?” mason whispered when serena had done elaborating each and every sequence of her hidden pain, partly in disbelief she’d been enduring such mistreatment for far too long, partly in outmost proud because she’d manage to recall each and every incident and willing to share them with him. his hands were untangling hers, one by one, releasing the gnawing grip she held over the frail blanket. in his defence, he was finding a distraction from the burning wrath boiling inside of him, slowly but surely, targeting at one particular person he didn’t want to see now but realised he needed to face. “why are you doing all these?” the footballer continued, gently—unlike his true nature inside of him. “you could’ve told me.” “it does not matter—” “it does to me,” serena had to hold back an audible gasp when she saw the raw emotions mason was displaying through the clear, brown orbs. “I want to know why you’d do such thing, endangering our baby.” while mason certainly didn’t want to be held accountable for another flash of pain in serena’s eyes, even for a split second, he needed to say the words. he needed to know her ulterior motive for doing such thing—a bit peculiar to see a princess, all in her glory and power, choosing to glower under pressure for a mere peasant, no? mason could practically see the gears shifting in her brain, probably contemplating to choose to reveal the truth or to spike another lie. “because one of us deserves a happy ending and by the looks of it, it’s never going to be me.”

replaying that particular scene fuelled his anger more. that was apparent by the way he knocked on the door like a police trying to catch a criminal red-handed—ironic enough for mason to laugh inwardly.

“mason!” surprise and elation were two emotions were clearly painted on his mistress’ face as she opened the door. “I didn’t expect—”

but mason had only one thing in his mind and it aligned with his initial intention. “don’t ever come near my wife and my child again, you got me?”

gone was the happiness in elena’s face, washed away and was now replaced by huge devastation. mason had never seen someone sporting that particular emotion so clearly. “but mase—”

“you got me?”

elena didn’t say anything and mason doubted she’d give any response any time soon—probably hoping to stall mason longer around her—so he decided to take matters to his own hands.

“don’t ever come near my family again or I’ll see you at court.”

next chapter contains:

“serena,” mason remembered thinking her last comment was so ridiculous that he had to grasp her by the shoulders, before grazing her now slightly bulging belly when she’d stayed in place. “you’re the most useful person in this household.”

[agent-cupcake]

what's your process on writing dialogue, and do you have any tips? i feel that no matter what i do, what i write is cringey and robotic.

MOST IMPORTANTLY, you're going to be your own harshest critic. People reading fanfiction are familiar with the characters, and their imagination can fill in a lot of what you might think are weak points. Also, practice is basically the biggest factor here, no amount of advice from a hack fraud like myself will matter if you're not out there on the grind.

BUT I'm an egomaniac and love talking about myself so here is my process and advice.

I watch/listen to their scenes a million times and pay attention to intonation, physical movements, vocal quirks or way of speaking. Emet-Selch, for example, uses archaic English words and is very formal VS OPLA Buggy who is a snappy, crass boy.

I write the scene so I know what their dialogue has to convey and get a general idea of mood and tone. Sometimes I do dialogue only, sometimes I just skip dialogue and leave a note about what they need to say. The point is that I've got material to work with.

Reread the bullshit I have just spewed out onto the document and have a minor breakdown about how terrible of a writer I am.

Remind myself that I am God and everything I type is gold.

Work and rework the lines while referencing canon material, reading them out loud (which helps to check the cringe factor too), and making sure the conversation and dialogue work together to have the scene do what I need it to do. I am garbage at technical editing but almost every piece of dialogue in my stories has probably seen at least some revision to fit it to the scene and character. The most important thing for me, ultimately, is that I can imagine exactly how the character would deliver the line. I've mentioned it before and I will again that getting Buggy's "voice" right was hard for me.

As for advice, tagging dialogue is your friend. In my opinion, it is the best way to make the dialogue flow more naturally. People very rarely speak in unbroken monologues. They're gonna be gesturing and moving and pulling faces and all that sort of stuff. You'd be surprised how much of a difference adding something as simple as a 'he said' can make when it comes to the way the dialogue is read. Words aren't entirely static, there's power in creating visual space between things on the page itself.

Since you're asking me specifically I'll use an example from my own writing for what I mean. I think there's a valuable difference between-

“Hey. What’s with the attitude?” Buggy asked.

and

“Hey,” Buggy said irritably, reaching out to tug on one of your twintails to force you towards him. You yelped, grabbing his hand. “What’s with the attitude?”

[peacefulpianist]

Hi there! Welcome to my masterlist. Each piece has its individual warnings at the top, above the read more cut, most pieces are 18+ so far.

My AO3

Thing I can't believe I have to say already:

1) Do NOT post my work on other sites please (the only places I post them are here and AO3, both under the same name),

2) I absolutely do NOT give my permission for any of my work to be fed to any form of AI/chatbot software etc. Please don't do this.

Now that's over with, enjoy!

The Green Dress:

Part One w/c: 4.2k

When Stark invites you last minute to one of his infamous parties, you've not got many options on hand to wear until Nat suggests you wear the green dress you had bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make his move.

Part Two w/c: 2.3k

The smutty end to your night together. 18+

Quarantined:

Quarantined w/c: 4.8k

After an intel mission on a new neurotoxin that hydra may have, you and Loki are forced to quarantine together when it's discovered you may have encountered a new virus. 18+

Not Fair:

Not Fair

Loki overhears you complaining about the inadequacies of your latest lover to Nat and Wanda one night, and decides it's time for him to show you how they do it in Asgard. Inspired by the Lily Allen song 'Not fair' after rediscovering it the other day after a conversation with a friend. 18+

Sculpt me like one of your French girls:

Sculpt me like one of your French girls

Your friend Lena has brought you along to one of her pottery classes, convinced that the teacher is your perfect man. She's not wrong. 18+

Honey, are you coming?:

Honey, are you coming?

You find yourself thinking back on the night you and Loki got together for the first time, the teasing, the flirting, the dancing and of course the fucking...

Loosely based of the Maneskin song 'Honey, are you coming', I'd recommend listening to it as you read if you feel like it. 18+

I'm currently open to taking requests, but reserve the right to turn any down if I don't feel comfortable writing it :)

Reblogs and comments are HUGELY appreciated, and I welcome any thirst over our favourite god and actor.

I'm open to any constructive criticism of my writing as I'm still new to it and have much to learn, just as long as it truly is constructive.

If you wish to be added or removed from my tag list please let me know, as always there will be no hard feelings or questions asked 🥰

(also please let me know if any of the links don't work, I'm still new to the creating posts side of Tumblr)

-Peacefulpianist x

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Character voice

Thanks to @elsie-writes here and @willtheweaver here!

Rules: rewrite the given line in your characters' voice

“The recipe says to add milk next!” (Note: Thinking kind of in the context of some characters would say this anxiously bc milk HAS to be next, and some characters would be like, "but I'm gonna put [whatever]!")

Lexi: "I'm no expert, but I think we should follow the recipe. It says add milk next! Therefore, we should add milk next."

Maddie: "The recipe says to add milk next, but hear me out-- what if we didn't include milk at all? I'm curious how this would taste."

Ash: "Why do we have to add milk? Why does the recipe know better? I think we should add whatever liquid we want." *Pours in Sprite*

Gwen: "The recipe says to add milk, so I'm gonna do that. But I feel like I'm not adding enough milk. This is pretty dry."

Robbie: "Okay, the recipe says we need to add milk, but, like, what milk? 2%? Whole? Skim? Lactose free? Coconut? Almond? Oat? Cashew??? Chocolate???? How am I supposed to cook if I don't know what milk to use??"

Akash: "Robbie, it doesn't matter what milk we use. It's just milk. I'm just really thankful you didn't say breast milk." (Robbie: oh my God I forgot breast milk!! That makes this more confusing!)

Jedi: "I am afraid I am not used to following a specific recipe myself. Usually, I simply create it in the replicators. However, I believe I will follow the recipe, though if it is not satisfactory, I will change it for next time."

Carmen: "If the recipe says we have to add milk, we are adding milk! What is the point of the recipe if we're just going to change it? See, this is why cooking is stupid! We have replicators for a reason!"

Bonus:

Noelle: "Why are we debating this??? The recipe says to add milk????"

“Come on, where’s your sense of adventure?”

Slightly different interpretation of this line because not everyone is adventurous

Lexi: "My sense of adventure would be a lot better if adventure came with a schedule."

Maddie: "Cmon, it'll be an adventure! Who knows, you might have a lot of fun."

Ash: "Yeah, things are kinda crazy, but it's also kinda fun. Like an adventure."

Gwen: "Not sure about this adventure, but I'm curious to see where this leads!"

Robbie: "Holy shit, this adventure sounds like so much fun! But I'm only in if Akash is."

Akash: "I don't have a huge sense of adventure, but Robbie does, so I'll indulge him."

Jedi: "I would like to think I have a sense of adventure. One could say I...traveled a lot as a child. One specific trip... But I also consider my scientific studies an adventure in of itself."

Carmen: "I don't have a sense of adventure, and frankly, yours is rather annoying."

Tagging @writeouswriter @leahnardo-da-veggie @pluppsauthor @pluto-murphy-writes @aalinaaaaaa

@dyrewrites @eccaiia @aalinaaaaaa @willowiswriting @words-after-midnight

@evilgabe29 @mk-writes-stuff @cherrybombfangirlwrites @rickie-the-storyteller

+ ANYONE ELSE

Your line is: "I think I'm gonna try that Ghost Pepper." [Include their reaction.]

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

[countrymusiclover]

14 - The Golden Newborns

Princess Red Thief

Part 15

Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35

I wasn't sure when we had gotten to the hospital or how they had managed to get me settled down into a bed by how much the pain was taking over every thought that was running through my mind.  Laying my head against the pillows I gasped feeling harsh pain flashing through my abdomen. "God! What is happening to me?"

"Ms. Royal, I'm sorry we're rather swamped today.  The mayor's son was brought after he ate an apple turnover." The hospital room door opened and I felt a wave of relief come over me seeing the familiar sight of my mother.

"Mom!" I sharply changed my words remembering she was still under the evil queen's curse. "Nurse Nolan, what is wrong with me?"

She sat down her chart taking her stethoscope off from around her neck placing it on my swollen stomach listening to the two heartbeats. "I'm not entirely sure just yet.  We'll have to run some tests to see if you're truly ready to deliver your babies.  Is there anyone you'd like us to call?"

"Mr. Gold.  He's my emergency contact." I instantly answered her question knowing he'd probably be able to figure this out sooner than they could.

She nodded leaving the room. "I'll be right back."

"Everly! I'm so sorry I wasn't here when they brought you in.  I shouldn't have let you go to Ms. Swan's place by yourself." Rumple ran into the room an hour later taking my right hand the second he had made his way to my bedside, balancing his other hand on his cane.

Squeezing his hand in mine I knew he felt guilty but it wouldn't help whatever situation we were in at the moment.  Henry and I were both in this hospital for completely different reasons. "Rumple, you couldn't have known.  We're here now.  Let's just hope the babies will come out easily."

"You better be nice to your mother, little ones -" He gasped, barely placing his hand over my round belly.

"Rumple?"

His brown eyes didn't move away from my belly. "I've never felt anything like that before.  It shouldn't be possible, not here especially."

"What are you talking about?" I questioned him so confused until he lifted up my shirt, revealing my stomach that was covered in small black veins. "Rumple, what are those?"

"I never thought it was possible for a witch or witches to be born without their own access to magic.  Yet I think that's what is happening to you, Eve.  I think our babies can only draw magic from other magical people."

"You mean like when Caroline gave birth to Lizzie and Josie in the Vampire Diaries?"

Rumple gave me the most confused look of his entire life. "What are you talking about, lass?"

"Have you never watched the show in the 28 years we've been cursed here?" He gave me no verbal response in return so I began explaining to him what had occurred with the tv show. "Anyway the twins were born without their own magic so they were called siphons."

He looked at me feeling like he had control of the situation anymore and he certainly didn't care to feel this way. "How were these kids successfully born then?"

"They created more magic somewhere else for the babies to want to go after.  So we have to do the same thing with the magic golden egg you put inside Maleficent. Otherwise they will keep feeding off my trapped magic running through my veins until I'm-"

"Don't say it or dare even think that happening to you.  I refuse to let that happen.  I will not let that happen!"

Grasping his hand in mine he finally met my gaze, calming down for a few seconds. "Just for one second we should agree on the babies names if they're born when you're not by my side."

"You can name them whatever you want.  I just need the three of you to be safe. I have to go right now, Everly." Rumple kissed my head running a hand through my hair quickly leaving the room now on a mission to save his family not caring about anyone else. "I'll bring it back to protect you.  I swear it, my princess."

"Hey, are you okay?" I heard Emma's voice outside the hallway, waking me up from the short nap the babies inside me allowed me to have. "What is that?"

I groaned doing what I could to hold myself up enough to see out the window seeing some smoke rolling in our direction that I slumped my shoulders in relief knowing what was really coming at us.  He had successfully brought magic to a land without it. "Kathryn!"

"Are you okay, Ms. Royal?" She rushed inside my room.

I began to speak but cut myself off grabbing my stomach in pain. "Ahh! Get out of me, please.  Help me - before they kill me."

"We need a doctor now!" She hollered into the hallway causing a few other medical workers running into my room trying to ignore the purple fog slowly coming towards the hospital.

I was told I had to sit up with my legs open and then start pushing. The contractions started coming closer together when I gave my first few pushes. My heart started banging against my chest and I already felt tired. "It's starting to come out. Just a few more big pushes."

My hands were almost turning white while I gripped the handle of the dagger. Sweat was sticking to my forehead with the white hair falling over my shoulders appearing to be a mess. "Errr!"

Nodding my head slowly I bared my teeth doing one final push that took the last of my energy that I had left.  An infant's cry filled the room where I threw my head back onto the pillows. Gulping a lump down my throat I slowly controlled my breathing while the other nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket. "Congratulations, you have a baby girl."

"And the other is a boy." Baring my teeth I clutched my eyes tightly closed using the last bit of energy and strength that was left inside my body till suddenly another infant cry filled the room.

Kathryn came over, handing me the baby girl first and holding my son in her arms since I couldn't hold two babies very good at the moment. "Did you have names already picked out?"

"Valerie for the girl and Robin for the boy.  Valerie and Robin Gold."

Suddenly before my eyes a cloud of dark red smoke appeared inside the hospital room and once it cleared away I saw Rumple standing before me and my still cursed mother holding his son in her arms. "How did you get in here like that? Wha - wait a second why am I starting to recognize you from somewhere else?" She muttered, eyeing him up and down with curiosity.

Rumple didn't pick up on what she had said, too worried about me and our newborns. "Everly, I'm relieved it worked.  How are you, how are our twins?"

"Rumple, We're all fine.  Come meet your son and daughter." I gestured for him to come over with the moving of my head where he sat down on the edge of the bed looking at his daughter who had his dark brown eyes and appeared to have small locks of my blonde hair.

Kathryn slowly handed him his son still trying to figure out how she knew the man before him and then it donned on her. "She called you Rumple - as in Rumplestilskin."

"I think you have the wrong man, Ms. Nolan." He attempted to lie, not sure if the curse had been broken even with magic now flowing throughout Storybrooke.

Her next words caused me to take my attention away from my newborn daughter, wanting for this day to come from the moment I had remembered who I truly was in this town. "Rumple.  You're Rumplestiltskin the man my daughter loves - Everly!" She covered her mouth with her hands instantly sobbing happily.

"Mother." I squealed out like a child crying happy tears finally having her and everyone else know who they truly were back in the Enchanted Forest.  "The curse is finally broken."

She grinned, wiping away some more tears that had slipped down her face, eyeing my lover holding our newborn son in his arms. "Oh my sweet girl we have so much to talk about."

"Princess Abigail, glad to see you've returned." Rumple spoke towards her.

My mother waved her index finger in his face with her warning tone. "First things first Rumplestilskin.  I demand to know two things: why didn't I know she was pregnant and are you married to my daughter or not?"I knew she wouldn't want to hurt him but I wasn't sure the same would be said of my father Fredrick. This was definitely going to be an interesting family reunion for all of us.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[andithiel]

End of year wrap up

I am so super late to this, but I’ve done this in the last few years and I think it’s a nice tradition to look back at the accomplishments I’ve achieved. 2022 was a very bleak year writing wise, and I’m happy to say that I’ve slowly started to get my mojo back a bit. My AO3 wordcount for 2023 was 36,936 words, but I’ve also posted some shorter things on tumblr, and I actually made a spreadsheet to track my progress and tally all my written words, including those that get deleted and also those not yet posted, and according to the spreadsheet I wrote 10k more. I still have a lot of WIPs hanging around in my drive, but I’ve managed to finish some of them, and I feel like I have more energy and excitement to finish some more, so, here’s hoping that 2024 will be the year that I actually end up with fewer WIPs at the end than at the beginning (something I tried back in 2020, before the world went up in flames).

Under the cut is what I published in 2023:

January 

Fading in Love (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 5k) I wrote this as a belated birthday present for @sassy-sassy3, it’s an 8th year secret relationship with a lil’ sprinkle of magical theory regarding the Dark Mark. 

February 

I decided to try a few prompts for HD Candyhearts and ended up having a lot of fun with them: 

Second Date AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 1,3k) with an insecure Draco after having spent the night with Harry.

The microfic Taste the love (for the prompt Sweet treats)

How deep is our love? AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 762 words) featuring established Drarry bickering and absolutely ridiculous Valentine’s cards.

The secret language of flowers AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 2k) featuring the classic tumblr post the fuck you bouquet.

Pillow microfic with Draco being a little shit

Charm me 8th year drabble FWB/secret relationship sort of vibes.

March

Take that ride (Drarry, Teen, 1,6k) I finally managed to write a fic idea that’s been scrambling around in my brain for ages. I wanted to create a mood and a feeling with this and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

I also wrote a short fuck or die drabble that I’m super proud of: Let me show you  

June

Hold back the tide (Drarry, Teen, 2k) Another idea that’s been with me for years that I finally got out (despite not having written the fic that preludes this).

October

Thunderstruck (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) My god, my beast, this fic resisted me and to top it all off I got covid right when I was about to finish it. I struggled with this so damn much, also wanting to create a vividness that doesn’t really come natural to me, but I’m so happy with how it came out in the end. Plus I got to collab with the amazing @fictional who, as usual, knocked it out of the park with her glorious art.

November

The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) Another fic that’s been with me for some time, although “only” a year. I saw the prompt for last year’s Suds when claims had closed, so I tried to forget about it but it wouldn’t leave me. I had so much fun writing this, I love writing Harry and Draco bickering and fighting with each other when we as readers know it’s basically their form of foreplay. 

December

When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night (Drarry, Teen, 6k) This was also a fic one year in the making. I started writing it to post on last New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t finish it in five days (to my own astonishment), but I’m happy it got to marinate for a while because I added a scene with Scorpius that I’m very fond of.

I wasn't tagged by anyone and I'm sure people have already done this, but if this means you get another tag, consider pointing me to your own year wrap up so I can see it! @sassy-sassy3 @fictional @mystickitten42 @uncannycerulean @goblinmatriarch @phdmama @crazybutgood @dragonbornphoenix @wo2ash @rei382 @nv-md

[coeluvr]

Hi there!🫶 First of all i wanted to thank you for getting me out of the worst reading slump I ever had- seriously your story is amazing (i love that mc *doesn't* play the whole 'forgive and forget' thing, but that you actually offer the oppurturnity of MC being out for blood) 🫡 that being said is there a overview of all characters besides the LI's? Unlike Mr. Luceris '#IMissMyWifeEveryday', i got a horrible memory and forget after some months😭 another question- are you okay with fanfics? in general and if so- are there any rules for them (like e.g. where to upload them, do you (noz want to be tagged or if scenes of patreon content can be mentioned briefly ((usually i would assume no))?)✨ I'm just a lil mc lover and would like to write about my mc's unhinged questionable behavior (especially playing around with the trauma and the ptsd here!).🫶

Lastly- what do you think of the song 'Brutus' of the Buttress for a revenge seeking, mentally unstable MC (since this seems to be a popular rough cut for many people)? I love how a tinfoil can be made between MC and Luceris, especially Luceris sorta creating a mini him (but worse) with what he did. Ironically his mercy on MC by letting them live is the most ruthless thing he could have done and i'm living for their cat fights 💅

have a good day coe!🫶

Hello, anon! 🥺💗 Thank you for your kind words aaa 😭

There isn't an overview of all the characters but I do plan on adding something of the sorts to the demo.

I can just do one here just for you though lol.

Luceris - Emperor / Murderer of MC's family and god knows how many other people / Helios' father

Lancelot - Emperor's Shield / Saved MC from Luceris crazy antics that night / Hunter's uncle

Farah - Emperor's dead wife / The woman whose room MC can burn / Helios' mother

Ikram - General of the Imperial Army / Woman who hates MC for no apparent reason / Vincent's mother

Naima - Royal Mage / Only normal person around here? / Fadiya's mother

Aside from them I don't think any other character (that isn't an RO) in the current demo is really relevant.

There's Eadred/Eadith but they make their appearance in the short stories and yeah that is about it. If I'm forgetting anyone, my bad. 🫣

Fanfics would be lovely! I don't have a preference where it is uploaded so post it wherever you want. I won't interact with it (aka won't read it) but I'm sure everyone else in the fandom will love it. 🥰

Patreon content can be mentioned except for the interactive romantic snippets because those are not canon and I don't want anyone to be misled about those. 😭 Anything from the short stories can be mentioned since it is all canon.

I love that song!! I see the entire song as a sibling dynamic or mentor and student type of dynamic so I personally can't see it for MC.

I can see parts of the song but not it in its entirety because even with the envy that the character in the song feels, there is still some love and care towards "the one who has it all" and I don't know, I just don't see MC right now caring for Luceris lol.

Thank you for the ask! 💗

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 33 – NICHE KINKS

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: athletiger

I love how athletiger always manages to come up with really creative concepts for their fics. I especially love their smutty writing, which is why I'm recommending them here, but honestly, you should just go through their entire AO3 catalogue and read everything on there. I promise you won't regret it.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

say it with flowers

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,179 Tags: Shibari, Flowers, Sub Steve

Summary: There are flowers tucked between the rope and his skin, beautiful white and purple orchid flowers standing out starkly against his fair skin. He leaks because Tony is right: they look beautiful. Steve looks up to see Tony staring at him lovingly, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Reasons why I love it: The mental image of Steve tied up with ropes and flowers is so beautiful, I'd probably pay to see it. I love how gentle Tony is with him and how it allows Steve to sink further and further into the scene. It's lovely to see, and I really hope you give this one a shot and experience it for yourself!

Knot your Typical Case

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 18,289 Tags: Bomb Squad AU, Werewolf Steve, Knotting

Summary: Steve and Tony were called out to what sounded like a standard domestic terrorism bomb threat. It escalated a bit, maybe. Possibly a lot. Ch1: the Mission. Steve and Tony face down a complicated situation, that is maybe also On Fire, god damn it, and may or may not explode. Ch2: They comfort each other in the best way they know how; using Steve's giant wolf dick.

Reasons why I love it: athletiger and MountainRose did a fantastic job here! The whole action sequence and bomb diffusal is so good, the suspense is incredible. And I love the backstory of Steve's werewolf condition. Plus, the smut at the end is hot as hell! This fic has it all, and I love it to bits, so I hope you give it a shot!

the sweetest sound is the music of your cock

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 3,107 Tags: Sounding, Fluff, Sub Steve

Summary: “Look at you,” Tony croons, “you’re so wet and messy because you want this. I can see it in your eyes.” Steve nods desperately, cuffs rattling above him. “Beg for it then, sweetie.” Steve gasps wetly. “Please, Tony, I want it,” Steve says in a litany, straining against his bonds. Frustratingly, they bound him tightly so he can only beg with his eyes and his mouth. “I want to feel the sound go down my cock, and I want you to control my orgasm, letting me come only when you want me to. I want to be your good boy.”

Reasons why I love it: Okay, first of all, that title? Iconic. I'm a huge fan of sounding fics, and we don't have nearly enough of them in this fandom, so I'm very happy that athletiger blessed us with one. The scene that Tony created for Steve here is so goddamn hot, and I love how overwhelmed Steve is by the end. It's fantastic, and I highly recommend that you check it out for yourself!

Buio Profondo

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 1,235 Tags: Non-Con Elements, Rimming, Breathplay

Summary: Tony's sleeping lightly when the deadbolt unlocks and the handle turns, listening to the barely-there footsteps entering the room. The bed dips under Steve's added weight, and Tony can feel his heat emanating through the thin blankets. With one smooth motion, Steve throws off the covers, revealing Tony's nakedness. Because he doesn't get clothes anymore either; Steve owns him entirely, heart, mind, soul. "I know you're not sleeping," Steve whispers in his ear.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is dark and sad and everything I love in a twisted Stony fic. The added context of Extremis and the Post-Civil War vibes make it even more impactful. I love the whole concept, and despite the context (or maybe because of it), the smut is impeccable. If you like dark fic, you will definitely love this one just as much as I do!

Shaken, Not Stirred (a What's That Sound? Remix)

Pairing: Steve/Bucky/Tony Rating: E Words: 2,771 Tags: Laundry Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Threesome

Summary: Tony had masturbated to Steve's and Bucky's laundry cycle, but now Tony found himself on top of their washing machine while the spin cycle was running at full speed.

Reasons why I love it: The whole concept of this fic is just fantastic. Tony getting off like that is super hot, and Bucky and Steve getting off on Tony makes it even better. I love this one, and I bet you will too, so I hope you'll check it out!