The Pronoun Game
The upside to writing OFCs, female reader insert, and gender neutral reader insert fics? You reach a wider audience and make the fan base feel more included in your stories.
The downside? Doing several different stories at once with all different pronouns means constantly finding pronoun fuck ups after you’ve published. Sometimes a week later. 🤦♀️
Seven Hells, maybe I do need a Beta reader.
100 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-Two
Tell us about a scene you’re most looking forward to writing in your current project.
Warning! Spoilers for Golden Mountain ahead!
I'm really looking forward to writing the scene where Ty kills the Blackened Spire. There's a great moment where he goes from smug confidence to this ice-cold realization that this is the end, and she's actually going to kill him. The way they interact in that scene, between her resignation to the task and the fact that he's almost proud of her for doing this makes for a very interesting dynamic. Their relationship is very interesting in general, but this scene really excites me!
This post is for @the-wip-project's 100 days of writing challenge!
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(Ughhh I love this anime. Any excuse to use my baby Kotaro I’m gonna take)
Dilf!Bakugou x poc!fem!reader
You and Katsuki knew better than to let lil mama get comfortable, but that’s exactly what you did. 5 years of blissful marriage with your little girl (that wasn’t so little anymore) and you felt that now was a good time to start over and have another. Katsuki wasn’t opposed to the idea he was more worried about how your daughter would react. She had already gone 13 years being an only child and she was spoiled rotten. Neither of you had any idea how she would react.
But one late night, coming home 2 bottles of wine deep after a date, the protests of your teenager were the last of yours and Katsuki’s worries. Plus you just so conveniently stopped taking your birth control about a month ago, so the timing was perfect.
Katsuki must have had some Olympic swimmers even after all these years because it only took one try before you were missing your period and waking up with morning sickness. Your husband was surprised, nervous, excited, and ecstatic all rolled into one. He forgot what it was like to have a new born and he was so happy that he would be experiencing all the highs and lows of pregnancy with the live of his life.
You waited well after your first trimester to announce your pregnancy to people and the first on the list was the most nerve-wracking, your daughter. You and Katsuki sat her down on the couch together and presented her with a small Polaroid. It took her all of a second to realize what was going on.
“We’ll it took you long enough.” She chuckled. Katsuki’s nose and brows scrunched at his baby girl’s reaction. He was expecting a full blown meltdown but it seemed she was being mature? “It would have been nice for us to not have such a big age gap, I mean 13 years? I’m practically gonna raise the baby myself.” Well nice to know one thing hasn’t changed. She still had no type of filter.
“You’re happy, then?” You asked hope practically radiating from your skin.
“Yeah, of course I am! I pretty much figured it out a month ago, though.”
“Wha- you did?” Katsuki questioned.
“Duh. All the signs were there. Morning sickness, the glow, plus Mom’s boobs have gotten bigger.”
Yep, no filter.
All your friends and family were super excited and supportive about you being pregnant and your pregnancy wasn’t that bad. At least, your service one trimester wasn’t that bad. You didn’t start getting big until you were six months in and that’s when pregnancy, with all of its cravings, aches and mood swings, hit you with full force.
Katsuki, of course was super protective over you. Basically waiting on you hand and foot throughout your third trimester. He’d give you massages on your back and swollen feet, hold your baby bump up for you, run your baths, make late night trips to the store and whatever fast food you were craving (even if he would act like it was a burden to him, he wanted to go out for you). He was perfect, albeit a little over protective, especially when his friends came to visit you.
“Stop crowding her, and leave my kid alone! They’re kicking cuz they want your hands off of his home.”
“Y/N, is he always like this?” Mina giggled.
“Yeah even with his mother. He’s such a helicopter parent, and husband.” You laughed rubbing your bump with care.
“No I am not!”
Katsuki was so cute. He was just happy to be experiencing everything with you since he wasn’t around the first time. Even with Hero work you and his family came first, always.
The day finally came to push that big headed baby out of your cooch and you don’t know who was more annoying in the delivery room. Katsuki who was freaking the fuck out the entire time, his mother who was yelling at him to calm down because he was getting you worked up, or your daughter who was giving you a full play by play of what the doctor was seeing down there as you pushed. If it weren’t for your own mother being there, holding your hand, to keep you sane you might have kicked them all out and birthed the baby alone.
Once your daughter announced that the head was coming out Katsuki went into dutiful husband mode holding your other hand and telling you to keep breathing. A few insults were hurled at Katsuki for putting you in this pain, but he knew you didn’t mean it and it would all be worth it in the end.
And finally your son was in your arms and the mixture of your cries with his were filling the room.
Soon you settled into your new life of sleepless nights and living only to serve your little parasite precious baby. Katsuki somewhat knew what he was doing. He got full custody of your daughter when she was four months so he knew the basic needs that was required for a new born. He just couldn’t comprehend how cute and tiny he was.
No amount of cuteness can make up for all the screaming this baby did, however. Katsuki wasn’t used to fussy babies. When your daughter was small she would have her tantrums and meltdowns, but it seemed your son just cried for no reason. He wouldn’t want to feed, he had a clean diaper, and if Katsuki rocked him he wouldn’t go to sleep. The only thing that would calm him down was his mommy. And his sister surprisingly.
“How come he shuts up when you hold him.” Katsuki would pout after handing the baby off to you to cuddle in bed.
“Because he’s a mommy’s boy. Plus I’m prettier than you.”
“This is my woman son. You can’t have her.” Katsuki would pinch the little chub on your son’s cheek, causing him to stop feeding to look up at him with the stankest face he could muster.
“Aww look Katsu~ Baby’s first mean mug.”
A/N: I am so in love with this blended family head cannon. I think I’ll make another part showing the dynamic between the kids because something about older girls having younger sibling that they treat like their own baby. Ughhh it’s too cute I can’t 😩 anyways I hope you enjoyed this continuation (also I should probably name the kids… I’ll think abt it. Suggestions welcome :))
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In the darkness, I see you
And I reach for your hand
But you pull back
As if you don't recognize me—
As if, in the darkness
You don't know me
Like I will always know you
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It is okay
To ask for help
It is okay
To need help
Get in hard
Places that we
Never saw coming
Places that we do
Not know how to escape
But you have
To let the hands
That reach out for you
Those hands that belong
To those that
You can really trust
To hold you
Open your own wide
And let them help
You rebuild what
Is broken inside
All writing belongs to me.
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And we stared into each other's gleaming eyes, as we unfolded the things we adored, tales of past and the hopes of the future. As if the present didn't matter, drifting into the night softy, we bared our souls as the moonlight clothed us. It was dawn, when I realised how lovely it is to be touched by soul..........
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painting little!bucky’s nails because he is just mesmerized￼ by the bright colors and glittery topcoat🥺🥺🥺
𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖓, 𝖇𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊
the one where you paint bucky’s nails
summary: bucky sees you painting your nails and asks you to do his too
warnings: none, literally just pure, tooth rotting fluff <3
[YES YES YES i fucking love little!bucky like i would die for that innocent lil bean,, so i made a whole chapter for tbtbatp about this concept😭🥺 @buckyshattergirl i hope u love this bae] ￼
You sit on your king-sized bed, legs sprawled out at questionable angles as you paint your nails meticulously, tongue lolling out of the side of your mouth whilst you concentrate on not spilling any polish over the sides of your nails.
Bucky pads into the room quietly, sliding over the end of the bed and resting his chin on your thighs, gazing up at you in absolute adoration.
“Hey, baby. You okay?” you ask, still fully concentrated on keeping your nails pristine as they dry.
“Mhm. Whatcha doin’, Mama?” he cocks his head questioningly as you blow lightly across your hands to speed up the drying process.
“Painting my nails, bubba.”
“Can you do mine please?” he asks timidly, wrapping his arms around your middle and schooching closer to you.
“Of course, baby. What colour do you want? I have pink, purple, green…” you list the colours off on your fingers before he jumps, grabbing your face between his big hands and squishing your cheeks together.
“Do you have red?” he grins toothily up at you and you press a kiss to his forehead, laughing at the absolutely adorable expression on his face.
“I do. Let me grab it and I’ll do your nails, alright?”
“M’kay!” he chirps, his hold on you slackening as you slip off of the bed and rifle through your drawer for the red nail polish.
“You want glitter on the top?”
“Yes please, Mama.” he bounces on the bed excitedly, his whole face lit up with eagerness. Throwing yourself back down onto the bed, you beckon him closer.
“Hands on my lap, baby.” He complies instantly, spreading his fingers evenly across your thighs. Absolutely enraptured, he watches with wide eyes as you apply an even coat of red to every one of his nails. Blowing on them gently, you wait for them to dry before applying another coat.
“They so pretty, Mama!” Bucky squeals, grinning so hard that his face looks as though it may split in half.
“Ready for the glitter?”
You spread a thin topcoat of glitter across his red nails, blowing on them so that they dry more quickly, knowing how short baby Bucky’s attention span is. His mouth is agape, eyes widened in amazement as he examines them carefully.
“Can we show Papa?”
“Of course, angel. Come on, let’s go and find him.” You interlace your fingers with his as he pulls you out of the room in search of Helmut.
“Papa?” he calls, bounding into the living room with you in tow.
“What’s the matter, baby boy?” he coos, standing to meet you in the doorway.
“Look! Mama painted my nails! Aren’t they pretty? Even has glitter.” He thrusts his hands into Helmut’s face, showing him the bright red nails, and Helmut chuckles at his excitement.
“They’re lovely, baby.” he croons as Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet, gasping as an idea hits him.
“Can you paint Papa’s nails so they match? Please please pleaaaase?” he asks, batting his eyelashes at you innocently. Helmut backs away unconsciously, shaking his head, and you tut, pulling him back towards you and Bucky.
“Come on, please? Make our baby happy and match with him.” You and Bucky both put on your best pleading faces, pouting until Helmut eventually caves.
“Okay, fine!” He throws his hands up in defeat, letting Bucky grab his hand and drag you both back to the bedroom.
“Sit.” you instruct your husband, pushing him lightly onto the plush bed.
“I live with actual children.” he mutters to himself and Bucky crosses his arms over his chest, stomping his foot petulantly.
“What? It’s true.” Helmut defends himself and you giggle at their bickering.
“But you love us.” you chime in and he smiles.
“Of course I do.”
You laugh, crawling into Helmut’s lap, armed with the nail polishes. Grabbing his hands, you settle them on your own lap and begin to paint them as Bucky chatters and babbles excitedly. You apply the glitter and Helmut inwardly groans, but all traces of annoyance leave his body as he gets a glimpse at how happy Bucky is; he’s literally vibrating with delight, nose scrunched adorably as he shuffles closer to you both, wrapping you in a bone crushing hug.
“We’re matching, Papa!”
“We are, sweet boy.” he chuckles and Bucky hooks his legs around your waist, effectively crushing Helmut under the both of you.
“Ow, you’re both really heavy.” Helmut complains and you raise an eyebrow at him.
You both pounce on him at the same time, peppering wet kisses all along his face and neck, not stopping even when he yells and swats at you.
When you finally halt your assault on Helmut, Bucky lets out a long yawn, his eyes drooping as he leans against you, planting his face into the crook of your neck.
“Oh, baby’s tired. You want a nap, little one?”
“Yes pease.” His words begin to slur from his drowsy state and you lay him down next to Helmut, pressing yourself against his other side and sandwiching him between the two of you. Brushing his hair out of his face, you place soft kisses against his jaw and neck, only adding to his somnolent state.
“My sweet baby boy.” you coo, carding your fingers through his wild hair as he whimpers softly at your praise. “My clever boy. I love you so much, baby.”
“I love you too, Mama.” he giggles back, turning to nuzzle into you as Helmut presses his chest to Bucky’s back, spooning him gently.
“Papa loves you too, little one.” Helmut rasps as Bucky’s eyes flutter closed.
“I love you too, Papa.” he whispers, body slackening against you as he succumbs to the sleep pulling him under. Kissing the top of his head, you manoeuvre yourself to a more comfortable position and close your eyes, beginning to softly snore against Bucky’s hair almost instantly. Helmut chuckles, slipping out of the bed quietly and kissing each of your cheeks before leaving the room to do some more work, but not before glancing back at you two, entangled together in the huge bed, Bucky’s breathing soft and even against your chest and your lips parted as you doze. Who knew nail polish could be so much fun?
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I want to write and I want to empty myself out till I sit with myself in a cosmic stillness. I want to write out warm honey and sit still as I hear the world around me, crying for more time with my creations. I want warm honey to soothe ears and heartfelt words to heal sore throats. Shoulders heavy with burden can come rest on my pages. I set down weights and thoughts on a keyboard, a sheet of paper in a book. The people around me see this anchorage in me, the need to stop and settle the dust of their mistakes on my hand, the dust of regrets and teenage angst. Anguish and pain in their hearts reside in my hands and I wait till they sleep to cradle it and put it to rest in some way or the other. To write is to feel. To write is to be out there, in the world, as I am. It is one thing to see a stranger. It is another to see a stranger in the soul which you loved as familiarity loves the past. To write is to feel brilliant and luminous, like this phoenix in constant death and birth, a miracle after miracle, disguised in words and tears. The last show of my humanity, the last show of my care because if I’m being honest, there are few things I really care for and there are many things I love. To write and write and write is to constantly show I am human. Literature, poetry, music, art, sculptures, friendship, love, heartbreak, pain, anger, anguish are all art forms in their own ways.
To feel is to be human. To be brilliant and blazing, dull and faded, mediocre and normal, cruel and hateful is to be human. Art is born out of us, built out of the strands of hair, loose from honeyed braids and dirt underneath our fingernails.
To be human- is art.
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"My demon come back to me, tarnish me again
You pull me down but when I’m down I still look for you
You must be tarnishing someone else’s soul
But when you’re done will you come back this darkness is so cold"
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Ethnicity: White - British
Occupation: Activist, writer
Note: She has been heavily involved in campaigning for equal rights for the LGBTI community. She has been described as “one of the Church of England’s most influential evangelical campaigners”.
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I live you now..✨
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They criticize because they underestimate the hunger in your belly and the fire in your eyes.
-J.Wool, Soul Whispers
All writing belongs to me.
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Pocketed my thoughts, but the pocket seems to small to hold them.
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"Undertow" Written 6/21/21
If you've have ever had a friend or loved one be an addict, this may be relatable. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I hope some day my friend gets better
Please follow my Instagram for more @ash_is_trying_to_write
Note: art is not mine. Only the writing is mine
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He hugged me, like i was the last person left in world.
I hugged him back, knowing that he is my world❤🌎
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Starting a self-inflicted challenge (I’m saying “inflicted” instead of “imposed” because it’s probably going to end up as masochistic torture in the long run) where I don’t storyboard or prepare at all, I just start writing 1,000 words a day until there’s a fiction story of any kind there to work with. I’m honestly just freestyling with the plot. This is my ‘90s jam band version of getting into writing fiction because I don’t know how else to start.
All of this is a long way of saying that I don’t want to commit to my protagonist’s name on the very first day of my arbitrary challenge, (that I will definitely cheat at) so I’m just referring to her as “GIRLBOSS.” Thank you for your time, I’ll just see myself out.
As I have stated I am a fanfic writer and have been since December of last year! One go my current works is called "Heart Of A Thief", a South Park: Stick Of Truth AU, that is Creek centric, along with tropes like aged up AU and angst just to put it shortly. As of right now I am one chapter and a half in, but I'm on short pause due to writers block.
As for my second work, its called "Leave Your Mark", a South Park character centric fic with a few ships here and there, the fic is also a street-racing AU, with aged up characters AU, rival gang beef and the rise of the underdog trope. Right now I'm still working on character synopses and would like to plan more for the fic before I start writing it altogether.
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I have this need to speak and breathe
but I fear the sound of my own voice.
These attempts of good intent-
are drown out by rage and white noise.
kinda funny isn’t it?
they say violence is a choice
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BLACK BUTLER EPISODES 4-6 SPOILERS
TRIGGER WARNING: GORE, MENTION OF ABORTION, MURDER, SEXUAL CONTENT
"Are you sure you want to go through with this procedure?"
"Yes, I have no bloody idea who the father is and my customers definitely won't like the idea of a whiny brat hanging around while we're taking care of 'business'."
Madame Red pushed her glasses back into place.
She bit her lip and began to write out a date on a piece of paper.
"November 14th, come directly back to my office." She said impatiently as she handed the woman the piece of paper "And do refrain from sexual activity during this time period."
"I'll try, but my line of work is very dependant on that type of thing." The woman said, taking the paper from Madame Red.
Madame red scoffed as the woman left her office.
She picked up a stack of papers on her desk. Each paper was a woman's medical file, with a stamp at the bottom saying "Abortion".
She shuffled through the papers.
"Arabella Williams, recieved an abortion due to possible endangerment of both mother and child if pregnancy is carried to term."
A tear slid down her cheek. This tear was of sadness, of pain, and of grief.
She turned to the next page.
"Prostitute Evie Taylor, recieved an abortion due to own will. No complications present."
Another tear slid down her cheek, but this tear was not of sadness, but rather a tear of anger, pain, and dark thoughts.
"Prostitute Mary Ann Nichols, scheduled for an abortion due to own will. No complications present."
Madame Red slammed the papers down onto her desk. She grabbed her cloak and stood to leave the room.
"I'll see you around sweetheart." Mary called out as her client left.
She walked out towards the alleyway and looked up at the moon.
"Gorgeous night, ain't it?" She muttered to herself.
She looked back towards the alley. There was a scratching sound in the darkness.
"tch... Bloody cats." Mary scoffed.
She was about to turn to leave, but she spotted a less than well intentioned doctor walking towards her.
"Oh, it's just you, doctor." Mary gave a relieved sigh.
Madame Red's eyes were wide and she twitched as she walked. She began to sprint towards Mary.
"Wait... What are you doing?"
Her fist clenched as she held a knife.
"Why do you have that knife!?"
She pushed Mary to the ground and raised the knife above her head.
"WAIT! NO- ST-STOP!"
Blood splattered all over the ground as the horrified screaming grew silent, replaced by ugly, grief stricken insults.
"ISN'T THIS WHAT YOU WANTED, MY DEAR MARY!?"
There were crunching and popping noises as the knife thrust into and then retreated out of the body.
"ISN'T THIS WHAT ALL YOU WHORES DO!? JUST SELL YOUR BODY AND THEN THROW AWAY THE CHILD THAT YOU'VE CREATED!?"
Entrails were strewn across the ground, and there was a cold lifeless expression on Mary's face.
"YOU SELFISH BITCH!" Madame Red cried "YOU AND SO MANY OTHERS HAVE WHAT I WANTED SO DESPERATELY, AND YOU THROW IT AWAY WITHOUT A SECOND BLOODY THOUGHT!"
The knifes thrusts became slower and the aggressive screaming faded into desperate and heartbroken sobs.
"I... I wanted it s-so badly..." Madame Red sobbed, gasping for breath. "I... It was all I... E...ever wanted..."
As her hands touched her face, and blood smeared all over it, it had finally sunk in what she had done.
Madame Red screamed and stumbled backwards. She crawled back towards a wall and sat up against it.
"o...oh my god! Oh my God!!!"
Madame red managed to get to her feet to examine the body of the prostitute she had just murdered.
"I killed her... I actually killed her..." She whispered.
"My, My! Quite the terrible mess you've made here, my darling!"
Madame Red turned around to see where the voice had come from. She drew her knife.
"Who... Who are you!? Show yourself!" She shouted.
"Now there's no need for weapons, dear." Replied the same voice.
Madame Red's eyes widened and she fell backwards again as a tall figure crept up behind her.
"Who are you!? What do you wa-!"
Her sentence was cut short as this strange person pushed her down further and covered her mouth with their hand.
This person sat on top of her and used their free hand to gently caress her head.
"How beautiful..." They began "a lovely shade of Red."
Madame red was to terrified to move, scream, or do anything.
The persons face lit up as they realized something "Oh my, how terribly rude of me! I haven't even introduced myself!"
Their hand moved down towards Madame Red's chest.
"My name is Grell Sutcliffe... I am obviously a beautiful lady and... A grim reaper."
Madame Red pulled Grell's hand off of her mouth.
"A... G-Grim reaper!?" She gasped.
"Indeed I am!" Grell boasted "And it seems as though you need some help getting away with this little caper."
"And you're... A woman?"
"Well... I was given the wrong body, but I am indeed a lady!"
Grell returned to caressing Madame Red.
She leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"I could help you out with this little killing spree of yours... As it is a little hobby of mine to seek out all the pretty red things I can find."
Madame red was breathing heavily. She swallowed, and then spoke.
"I... I suppose..."
Grell began to passionately kiss her neck.
Madame Red gasped "I suppose I c-could use y-your help..."
Grell finished her business, and helped Madame Red to her feet.
She wrapped her arm around the Baronesses waist and looked down at her with a certain passion in her eyes.
"How about I pose as your butler, and we can take care of these little jobs together, hmm?" She proposed with a sharp toothed grin.
Madame Red's eyes had the same dark and murderous gaze that they possessed before.
"Alright. I'll do it."
I rewatched episodes 5 and 6 of Black Butler today and I thought this would be an interesting concept to write about. We only see a small glimpse of how it happened in the show so I thought I could write a bit of my own take on it. Hope you guys enjoy!
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Fathers Day…the day we celebrate our progenitors…
I love my dad. He is one of the best things this life has granted me. But, I hate Father’s Day…or any man made celebration for that matter.
I don’t mean to be a sourpuss, but celebrations make me anxious. The whole gift shopping or lack of, frustrates me. My father is a simple man of few pleasures. What in the world was I supposed to get him?! I didn’t get him anything…I told him I owe him a gift. He smiled and ignored me. He always laughs at my small problems. “I don’t need a gift, G.” It’s what he said to me. But how come I still feel bad?
Anyway. My family decided to throw a Father’s Day party that I decided to skip. Does that make me an asshole, not attending and spending time with dad? I just really hate these type of celebrations. My family makes a big deal out of it, and not having a gift to present really made it ten times worse. And on top of that it was also my grandpa’s birthday…I also didn’t get him a thing.
While everyone was at the celebration I escaped to the beach. The water was still cold though, but at least it distracted me for a while. I had my first handcrafted beer, and had some hotdogs for lunch.
Fast forward to my evening, I decided to get some doughnuts on my way home and surprised my dad with them. I decided I wanted to spend time with my old man; after all, it was his day and I really wanted to spend time with him without the crowd and party and stuff.
Little did I know he really appreciate it. He got some coffee brewing and we sat in the sofa to talk for hours. I love my dad.
P.S. Happy Father’s Day to everyone out there! Or should I say, happy “late” Father’s Day? Since I wrote this today and not yesterday…