#edit: fixed minor wording error

[vagueeyes]

a few additional notes on the matinee + what i wrote down for the final show of STAGE/FRIGHT (all apr 5. i'm probably the last one to realise apr 5 = 9??)

‼️ spoilers ahead ‼️

the matinee:

-during the SARDINES reference in the kidnappers, someone behind us gasped and said "sardines!" (so cute tbh!!)

-one thing i forgot to mention about the lack of video wall - we also miss the "Reece Shearsmith 1969-2025" bit. i wonder how that played out with the first-timers!

-on a related note - i'm 99.9% sure the 2 men sat behind us were seeing the show for the first time, bc the one who said "oh my godd" kept asking the person he came with, whether the show had been running for long. iirc his companion couldn't really answer & said "today's the last one i think"

-the people sat next to me i felt like they were wondering why i was covering my ears before it started. well. they found out why soon enough 🤣 (also at some point before the first jumpscare & the one before the start of act ii, i yelled at @somuchwatersoclosetohome that i wasn't listening to anything she was saying 🤣🤣)

anddd this behaviour did not change for the last show 😂 gosh how was knowing there were jumpscares even worse!! it's the anticipatory reaction or something, i guess??

anyway. for the last show - AGAIN thank you @somuchwatersoclosetohome for the ticket. honestly, the matinee show was an impulse decision made while i was at work (which really shows how terminally online i am 🤦‍♀️), but the final one i was like ?? do i even try? but after a brief chat and she came through so quickly it was like what!! this is happening i guess!!

a quick note: i'm aware more of the fandom have seen this one so none of the below is original or even coherent tbh. just everything i jotted down during the interval + formulated in my head earlier today!

the seating:

-was up in a box (with @donotbelasagne) this time! here's what the view was like:

-the far-left of the stage is obstructed view, so for moments like in terror at the asylum eg the goudron/cragg bit by the door or the painting of madame goudron's head coming off - you would miss if you didn't lean forward (well the former you would still miss, actually).

-on the plus side - what was fun was seeing all the marks on the stage!! which i didn't start focusing on until bcdr when tommy & len are moving/things around. and little things like seeing prop (or real?) sushi in the itsu box during a house divided, and something actually in maggie's pret coffee cup (but likely a prop since i don't think there was actual liquid in it lol). and vince's coffee cup was definitely completely sealed (there was what looked like a black sticker on it). also seeing len/steve crouching behind the wall during brown bottles! hehe

-the main bit that i stared at was during the self-taping scene when abby & sherrie go to play the tape back, there's nothing actually playing in the camera. i suppose that's obvious knowing the video wall footage is pre-recorded, but still oddly satisfying to see it!

-as an aside, us being in an upper box means i was conscious of people possibly staring at me covering my ears before the jumpscares loll but you know what! i saw a few people do the same thing before the end of the interval. so. you know.

the kidnappers:

-fr i just wanna quietly say, i was hoping the last guest would be tim key (more about him in my upcoming soppy/journey post)

-but jonathan ross was a nice surprise!

-the part that got me unexpectedly was tommy's usual "you're not on graham norton now" line, and jonathan's response of just flipping the bird lmaoo, then tommy/reece's subsequent "he wouldn't have you on anyway!" 🤣🤣🤣

-jonathan calling len/steve "odd looking" and tommy/reece "generic/short handsome guy"?? someone please tell me the EXACT phrasing bc i was too busy going 😮🤭 (self-reminder to watch that interview!!)

-when he goes to hide in the wardrobe, he doesn't close the door properly iirc! christina(?) had to close it!

-steve drawing out the celery line omggg it was amazing

-when jonathan bursts out of the wardrobe to correct len, he just goes back in again! i think someone backstage or christina again had to remind him to go back out.

-the only part of his tirade that's seared into my brain is calling len/steve a hedgehog (what!!!)

-as mentioned in @kookaburrito's post, jonathan's bit going up the stairs is namedropping mark (ofc), but he says "mark gatiss and his beautiful swan neck" (omg!!!) he was NOT expecting that combination of words to come out of his mouth lbr!!

interval:

-at the ~15min mark, the safety curtain kept going up and down, and the lights kept dimming and brightening? definitely got a bit nervous that the video wall wasn't working again.

-just for fun i recorded a bit of this (i hope this gets uploaded/posts properly, lmk if it doesn't):

-it went maybe 5mins over than usual but all seemed well when the theatre attendants closed the curtains!

stray observations:

-before the show, @donotbelasagne mentioned that there are recorded coughing noises playing throughout?? it was funny to hear this bc during the matinee, i can't remember during which part now, i definitely DID notice some coughing. i tend to be easily annoyed sensitive of this, so when i heard it, i remember thinking "who the HELL is coughing at a time like this??" for this one, i did clock coughing again!

-about the toby/reece switch - i realise it's not a huge technical thing but this time i did try to watch the centre of the stage. when it goes completely dark and abby starts circling around with the camera light, i did see that a body (don't know whose ofc!) was still lying there! and...that's all i have to say about that lol

-during tears of laughter, iirc after bloody belle's bit, the associate director & simon evans briefly go into that box to watch! simon was also recording a bit on his phone!!

-i missed looking at goudron's sleeve garters wtf!! but now that i think about it i guess i did see them but wasn't going gasp it's sleeve garters. idk?? gah!!

-steve flubbing the "bloody good piece(?) of theatre" line haha!!

-WHO shouted "bloody belle" three times early, during the addressing the audience part!!

-the curtain call and steve thanking every member of the company, the stage hands, and the front of house staff!! 🥹🥹🥹 (also iirc toby was actually crying or at least extremely teary-eyed! as was everyone i think!)

-for both shows iirc many people "aww'd" at the "maybe every ghost story really is a love story" line at the end <3

two thoughts on stage door:

-i did attempt to make eye contact this time! don't think i did last time due to the sudden-ness of it all, but alas r&s weren't really looking at anyone anyway - probably due to the rush!

-can i just say it didn't immediately occur to me before, but bhav is quite good-looking!!

alright i think that's it for now! anything i've left out or forgotten i'm sure someone else may bring up & articulate it better lol.

[sweetsourbum]

Moon gazing

[unproduciblesmackdown]

NOTE: THIS ITEM IS CURRENTLY IN PREORDER. IT WILL SHIP IN JUNE-JULY 2023. We will be printing based on preorder size, so grab one now if you want one!

More than 40 trans writers and artists have joined forces to explore the deeper meanings of the Fast & Furious franchise (and also gender). There's really no way to know why this exists, but it does, and you can own it! Suitable for F&F fans and newcomers alike. Contributions include:

- A new short story by Manhunt author Gretchen Felker-Martin - A demolition derby driver’s perspective on 2 Fast 2 Furious’s derby scene - An essay contemplating the queer symbolism of Cipher’s bowl cut - The scoop on the franchise’s only canonically nonbinary character - Instructions for an F&F-themed tabletop roleplaying game - A contemplation of which Taylor Swift album represents each F&F character - Plus: Bingo cards! Comics! Haiku! And, of course, hot gay erotica…

2 Trans 2 Furious is edited by Tuck Woodstock & Niko Stratis, with cover art by Mattie Lubchansky and zine design by Shay Mirk.

~

This zine is 8.5" x 5.5" and perfect-bound like a real book — fancy! Interior pages are black & white. We're guessing this baby is like 100 pages long but we'll get back to you on that.

Currently only shipping to the United States, sorry! We're hoping to at least expand to Canada soon, and also plan to add a PDF ebook option, so keep an eye out!

(that "the scoop on the franchise's only canonically nonbinary character" is the page i contributed about our one & only beloved akd-acted cam stone!! plus also if you're interested in preordering a fancy printed copy of a zine about fast & furious, which you don't have to even know about or like, with all trans contributors. including me)

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.  

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.  

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.  

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”  

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”  

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”  

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.  

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade. 

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”  

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”  

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.  

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”  

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”  

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.  

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.” 

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?” 

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. 

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. 

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY  

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.  

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”  

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.  

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.  

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.  

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.  

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.  

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”  

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.  

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”  

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”  

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.  

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.  

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.  

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.  

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”  

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.  

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.  

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.  

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”  

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”  

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.  

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”  

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.  

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”  

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.  

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”  

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”  

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.  

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.  

IMPERIAL VILLA — NIGHT  

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.  

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.  

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.  

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.  

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.  

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”  

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”  

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.  

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.  

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”  

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”  

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.�� 

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”  

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”  

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”  

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”  

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.  

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.  

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.  

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”  

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”  

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.  

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”  

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”  

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”  

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”  

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.  

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.  

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”  

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”  

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.  

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.  

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.  

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”  

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”  

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”  

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.  

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”  

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”  

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”  

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”  

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”  

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”  

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.  

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.  

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.  

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.  

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”  

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.  

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.  

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”  

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”  

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”  

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”  

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”  

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.  

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”  

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”  

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.  

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.  

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”  

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”  

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.  

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.  

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”  

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.  

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”  

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”  

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.  

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”  

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”  

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”  

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.  

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.  

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”  

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.  

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.  

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”  

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”  

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”  

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.  

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”  

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”  

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.  

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”  

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”  

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”  

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”  

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.  

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”  

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”  

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”  

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”  

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.  

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”  

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”  

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.  

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”  

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.  

[rainsinheaven-if]

☆彡Update Log 1.0 - DEMO IS OUT!

Play the Demo here!

After months of writing, editing, and coding, the prologue and Chapter 1 is finally out! With code, the prologue and Chapter 1 is about 20k words. It’s a little short if you compare it to other IFs but I can promise that Chapter 2 is probably gonna be longer. The demo should be playable on both PC and mobile.

Warnings: this update involves injury, blood, attempted murder, death of a minor character, parental physical and emotional abuse, and parental favoritism.

In the prologue, you will:

Get a glimpse of your parents’ favoritism the moment you were born.

Choose the skin color, hair color, and eye color for you and Nolan.

Wonder who’s talking about you, Nolan, and your future.

In Chapter 1, you will:

Have a weird dream?

Receive some gifts from Aria and Nolan.

Give a gift to Nolan.

Greet the Royal family.

Make your first friends.

Witness an attempted murder.

Have your heart shattered (or rage explode)

Cry yourself to sleep with a burning red cheek.

One thing to note is that the sections on the side bar are still under construction and subject to change. In some cases, you may see the word “null”; do not fret, it isn’t an error. This is a variable I set to “null”, and would probably be changed when you get to a certain point in the demo. Also, if you're playing on mobile, you might notice that the title in the front page is not aligning properly to your screen. I am aware of this and I'm working on fixing it, but it has to be like that for now.

Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for playing! If you find any grammar errors, bugs, etc., feel free to send them through Tumblr asks, go over to my Discord, or DM me those issues on any of the mentioned platforms plus Twitter (@/nabearbot). I’m also open to any suggestions or questions you have about the plot or demo <3

Additionally, thank you to all the beta testers who helped me through Discord. I’ve learned a lot from their reports.

As this is my first time doing this sort of project, please be patient and kind with me and my work 💖

Join the discord server!

[solradguy]

They made an error in the Crunchyroll English subtitles for Dual Rulers when they're doing a recap of the setting's history right at the beginning and it seems to be confusing a lot of people

GG uses two words for "magic" in a way that English generally doesn't. There's 法力 (houriki) and 魔法 (mahou). "Houriki," the one they used in the subtitle at this part, generally refers to the concept of magic as a whole as an energy in the Guilty Gear universe, while "mahou" is more like how we generally use "magic" in English.

It's hard to explain so to make an analogy out of it, "houriki" would be like the raw kinetic energy turning a wind turbine or hydroelectric generator and "mahou" would be the output electricity that can then be used for everything else. There's no good way to explain this, I'm sorry... Just take my word for it that they're different 😭

Anyway, so the mistake they made in this subtitle is that "houriki" is actually a Buddhist concept and refers to the supernatural power/ability one can gain from practicing Buddhism. The kanji for it, translated literally, are law+power. This is a really easy mistake to make if you're unfamiliar with GG's setting terminology (I made it too when I first starting doing GG translations lol.............)

I have a sneaking suspicion that we might see more funky translations like this in the future so here are some other terms they might mess up if someone doesn't give them a lore localization sheet:

法術 (houjutsu) - "Magic spell" but they might translate this literally as "law technique" or "Law Power technique"

第一の男 (daiichi no otoko) - "The Original" might get translated as "The First Man" or maybe even "The Great Man"

聖天貸法 (Seiten Taihou) - "Arcanum." I have no idea how they might end up translating this but it's the collective name of the 666 known spells. "Nandikesvara Lend Law" could be a possible direct translation of the kanji but it might be more likely that they just call it something like "the book of spells" (which isn't wrong and I think they do/have localized it that way before, it's just gonna be really obvious if they get it super wrong)

For the most part though, the Dual Rulers EN subtitles are good. There are a few really minor translation oddities besides Law Power that make me think they just didn't have a localization guide for the translation team, for some reason. I don't have plans (or know anyone else that does) to retranslate or edit the subtitles, and I feel good about the possibility that the Blu-ray release will have fixed these strange minor mistakes.

tl;dr: "Law Power" is just "Magic" and they made an oopsie by translating the kanji literally

[oneknightstand-if]

A Completely Normal Rest Stop

Update 4: Chapter 2 Part 2 - The Rest Stop

Featuring...

Merlin's Guide to Minor Enemies

A bucketload of owed texts & e-mails to the MC

Decisions of great import... just where are you sleeping in that motorhome during this Among Us game?

Shopping? Fleeing? Stalking Merlin? Chapter 2 wedding proposals? ̵S̵a̴b̷o̴t̸a̷g̵e̵ ̵t̷h̴e̶ ̷m̸o̵t̵o̴r̷h̸o̷m̷e̶/̷ Actually having a completely normal time because you sidestepped all the spooky shenanigans? (But what fun would the latter be?)

A ton of branching everywhere in the second part of this update, so try replaying again with a few different choices.

A̴ ̴C̴o̶m̴p̷l̷e̵t̷e̴l̴y̵ ̶N̴o̷r̸m̴a̶l̵ ̵G̴a̴s̸ ̶S̵t̵a̷t̷i̶o̷n̸ ̵S̴t̸o̷p̷

Nothing to see here but a completely normal gas station & convenience store at a completely normal rest stop. Moving along now.

Play the Updated Beta Test

(Since there were bugs & typos reported throughout Chapter 1 & 2, your current saves are probably going to reset to the beginning of each section of the game. If things get too wonky, you might want to try restarting from the beginning.)

*If you're getting error messages or the start screen isn't showing Version 0.22, please clear your browser's cache.

Additional Word Count (Sans Code): 200,000+

Additional Word Count (With Code): 285,000+

New Total Word Count (Sans Code): 815,000+

New Total Word Count (With Code): 1,120,000+

Average Playthrough: ~65,000+ words

Note: You can view the game code on my site the same way you do on Dashingdon just add /scenes to the end of the URL.

Next Update

Merlin's Guide to Minor Neutrals

MC may appear on TV! This might not be a good thing. And they aren't the only one, cameo appearances from a future RO

Get hit with your first mass spell of nondemonic origin

Counteract with participation in your first multiuser spell

Attempt to summon Cthulhu. Dance the macarena. Have the consequences of your own inaction potentially bite you in the arse-- I mean what?

RO #4 finally appears.

Also quick reminder that the Alpha Build of the game on Patreon updates as I complete each section, so is currently on Chapter 2-3.

Link to New Polls on the Update (Which don't auto close in a week like the Tumblr ones)

More (Fiddly) Info on the Update Behind the Spoiler Cut...

The Update Also Includes...

Added section where the devil's mark is found if you change into short sleeve clothes right before packing up to leave

Added more neutral way of deciding not to claim dibs on a past Camelot incarnation

Added more flavor text regarding the vending machine in the fencing club route

Fixed continuity bug regarding your mask while exploring the empty city

Fixed continuity bug with Adrian's text messages in the Fencing Club route (Again!)

Added Fou and Petit Cru as default names for the Arthurian lore references to the default pet names

Fixed reference to nonexistent pet at the start of the book club route (which won't be finished for awhile)

Fixed some behind-the-scenes bugs with variable incrementing

Changed brave_sir_robin & merlin_warn to numerical variable instead of true/false (might cause bugs with prior saves that triggered those flags)

Fixed a bunch of typos and smaller bugs that I've completely lost track of at this point, but pretty much guarantee every section got re-edited

[residenthughes]

mad at me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 3.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), creampie, praise, spitting & choking (nothing crazy, i promise!), use of pet names (my girl, sweetheart, baby, princess, sweetheart), slight degradation (if you squint?)

summary: jack's latest game has tensions running high and feelings left unresolved. lucky for him, you know just the solution.

notes: so...this is happening 😭 this is very much inspired by the devils latest game against the kings where jack got pretty heated 😵‍💫 who doesn't love a bit of angry! jack? 🫣 but yes, as i've mentioned before, i don't usually write smut, so this may not be the best so any tips or comments you guys have to share would be much appreciated! 💗this has been partially edited, so if you see any errors along the way, they'll be fixed soon! as always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! much love! <333

It takes a lot for Jack to get mad.

A sequence of events that all come to a boil, a mountain of incidents that snowball into an avalanche of his wrath. He’s so sweet, like sunny Sunday mornings that smell of fluffy pancakes and honey syrup - so, even now, so far into your relationship, you’re aware that moments like these occur. Of course, emotions wear thin like tired socks and you’re no stranger to your own and Jack’s that have seen all shades of the rainbow, but perhaps there’s something in the air, some electricity that changes the wiring of your brain because tonight is so different from the rest. Dissimilar from when you leave Jack be when his big emotions demand their place, unlike how you wrap each other in blankets of comfort when tensions have eased and everything is whole again. Because, again, this is not about you. It’s about Jack and how, as the universe has written it to be, gravity pulls straight towards him.

Things have been good - he’s come back from injury, back to his kingdom on the ice and the Devils have won back to back games - truly unheard of during their current season, beating their last opponent in regulation for the first time since 2009. It’s a big deal - the smile on Jack’s face says so, the satisfaction of his tone indicating so when he’s come back from his away games. So, you want this happiness to continue, because you love him and the happiness he illuminates but at the end of the day, his job is hockey. A coin toss of wins and losses that you’re trying to wrap your head around because you’re biassed and see all the commitment that him and his teammates put in everyday. As a result of this, Thursday happens; a dice roll of events that spiral into chaos.

You’re back home in Jersey, comfortably situated on the couch in the warmth of an ending winter that shows peaks of an upcoming spring. You’ve got popcorn in your lap because you’ve rediscovered how much you love the savoury snack, happily munching away as Jack’s game starts and the adrenaline kicks in. The first period is eventful with many saves that have you clawing at the couch, but then the second period starts and all hell breaks loose. Tensions run high and as level-headed as Jack is, he is not immune to agitation - subjected to a nasty hit into the boards, the opposing player purposely banging his elbow into Jack’s head. You’re about to start yelling at your TV screen like some drunken sailor because Jack’s been injured this season and doesn’t need more time away from what he loves, but Jack decides to get his lick back and you’re automatically silenced. Your jaw drags the length of the floor as you watch him crosscheck the hell out the guy, proceeding to rough the player up before referees interfere. Jack and the guy are arguing back and forth as they’re escorted into their teams’ penalty boxes and you’re just left bewildered, a mess of emotions with wide eyes as your stomach turns.

You watch astounded as Jack flushes in his temporary plastic home, eyes wide at he hurtles comments that leave the opposing player with a sour taste in his mouth. Jack’s shaking his head when he’s gotten what he needs off his chest, wiping away his sweat as his anger grinds to a simmer. Your eyes are glued to the TV, perched on the edge of your seat as your heart beats hard in your bruising chest. The power play continues on but you’re lost in a trance, awaiting Jack’s emergence from the penalty box that can’t come soon enough. Once he’s out, he’s sprinting for the puck and manages to get a breakaway that assures New Jersey a goal, but the loser in the penalty box with him is hot on his heels and Jack misses. He’s fuming once again, ranting to the referee that pays him no mind. Jack skates off, smashing his stick against the glass before he’s back on the bench and completely snaps it in half, a string of profanities leaving his lips. 

You sit there in awe, your grinding teeth sinking into the flesh of your fingers as your brain becomes an all-consuming pile of filth. Your precious boy, who loves his three hour long naps and looks at you like you hang the stars in the sky, the hopeless romantic who pulls out all the stops for you simply because you deserve it and who holds you as if you’re fine china - he’s almost unrecognisable now, wearing his emotions like the number of his jersey as his expression pinches and his azure eyes narrow. A rush of emotions you both experience that make a home in the chaos of your minds that long leave the remnants of their havoc.

The clatter of Jack’s hockey bag echoes from the doorway, bringing you out of the syrupy daze you’ve been submerged in far too long. You leap off the couch as your body carries you towards the front door, electricity rippling down the ridges of your spine as your skin tingles with the unknown. You keep your emotions at bay for the time being, unsure of what state Jack may be in as you creep around the corner and catch an eyeful of his demeanour - blinding annoyance. An exasperated sigh pushes from his chest as he slips off his trusted beanie, the ruffle of his wet curls bouncing as his fingers card through his hair. You gulp.

“Ro?” you test the waters - short and sweet just to gauge his reaction, anticipation hanging in the air. 

“Hey.” he bites, not bothering with looking your way as he shimmies his coat off with more force than necessary. 

You gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling helpless. “I saw the game…”

“The one I almost got fucking injured in?” he chirps, looking at you now with a pointed stare that burns with all the fire in his heart. No longer azure, his eyes singe with an almost midnight hue. “What a shitshow.”

“That was a dangerous hit, that guy’s got whatever’s coming to him,” you’re quick to reply, taking small steps towards Jack who hangs up his coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that people pay to watch you play.” 

Jack stills in his movements, figure unmoving momentarily before his eyes throw you a lasting glance, the beginnings of a smirk working amongst his roseate features. “So, you heard?”

You blush under the heat of his undivided attention, gaze averted as you fumble with the hem of the hockey jersey on you. “Not necessarily.”

“Then what did you hear, baby?” he queries immediately, shifting so that his body now faces yours, an arm resting against the coat hanger as he sizes you up, unabashed and assertive.

Your stomach flips, the race of your heart undeniable. “You’ve got a mouth on you, so it’s easy to read lips.”

You’re chirping, working under his skin in a way that maintains some form of respect but has all the intentions of riling him up, which manifests into the beast you wish to see. A cocked eyebrow and a ticked jaw, flashes of disbelief flickering on his face. Once more, your emotions bear the weight of an anchor as excitement conjures up the swirl in your stomach, your masquerade crumbling at the seams as your nostrils flare, biting back a shit-eating grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he questions with a hint of humour, because he knows you like the back of his hand. You give him no response, preoccupied with suppressing the misplaced giggle that threatens to leave your lips. “I can’t believe this.”

The seams fully come undone, a snicker or two bypassing your lips as you retreat from the situation, ending up with your back against the door leading to the basement with Jack hot on your heels. Mirth bathes you in delight and you let it, a plethora of chuckles falling into your hand as you avert your gaze whilst Jack forgets any concept of personal space. Perhaps you’re deserving of whatever damnation comes your way, a punishment you’ve fully brought upon yourself, but when your senses fill with the waft of Jack’s earthy musk cologne and the remnants of his apple shampoo, accompanied by the warmth of his body that leans towards yours, you can’t bring yourself to feel a shred of regret.

His arm, enveloped by his raven black dress shirt, raises as he cages you in, vulnerable and at his mercy. “What else did I say, since you can read lips and all?”

This is a circus of words, meaning riddled in optical illusions that would have someone think none the wiser. Except this is yours and Jack’s circus, an act tailored for two that entertains your minds that run wild. A wildness you feed off as you meet him with the same decisiveness.

“This number,” you start, pointing towards the digits printed on your sleeve belonging to him. “86 is what people go to see - sorry, pay to see.”

You’re not really sorry, the smirk on your face says otherwise. “I think I said a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

“Besides all the huffing and puffing,” his tongue pokes at his cheek, a playful smirk betraying his flaring emotions. “You asked if he was there to play or to hurt people - fair point to make.”

“And all the others weren’t?” Jack’s moved closer, his thigh situating itself between the gap of your legs. 

You bite your tongue at the friction. “You know the answer to that.”

“Maybe,” his caging arm leaves the door, the web of his hand sat against your chin as he holds your face, maintaining the same fiery gaze that unravels you altogether. “But, it’d be better coming from you.”

“Jack,” he’s flexed his thigh, your hand reaching for the button on his dress shirt as you wane in defeat. “Please.”

“I don’t follow.” 

Your bawled fist meets his stacked chest. “Don’t play dumb.”

Jack chuckles, holding all power in the palm of his hand. “I’m just confused as to why my pants are wet.” 

To prove his point, he draws his thigh away because he’s a selfish bastard and shows you the damp spot you’ve left after his thigh made its way between your legs. The shame that washes over you is unbearable. 

Jack’s cold hands find themselves underneath the material of his jersey, one hand dancing along the outline of your underwear with a finger hanging over the top of the seam. “Oh, what to do with you.”

He’s such a tease, his ego large and in charge as you’ve long forgotten any sense of game at hand as your eyes pool with only an anguish he can extinguish. “Fuck me, please.”

“Why?” his tone light and airy, his finger hooked around the seam of your underwear as the material leaves your skin

You shiver at the breeze, eyes closed as your weak fist manages to grapple onto some material of his shirt. “Because, I need you and I think that goes both ways.”

The band of your underwear snaps against your stomach as Jack retrieves his hand, head cocked to the side as he considers the weight of your words with a locked jaw. Your teeth are sinking into the plumpness of your bottom lip, nothing but pleading in your eyes as you gaze up at him with all you can muster. 

His hand lays against your cheek, thumb automatically caressing the skin - a touch that you not only lean into, but shiver towards. “Get upstairs.”

This is a fairly new playing field for you two -  a game of cat and mouse that brings out an unfamiliar side to you, so foreign in nature that you second guess your desires and where your lust leads you. Jack doesn’t allow for any hesitation though, hand in hand with you as he comes into himself too. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips that lift, a soft smile surfacing amongst his features before you’re headed upstairs in a flash, scurrying towards your bedroom with a trail of your clothes left in your wake.

Jack doesn’t take long to meet you upstairs, his pinstripe blazer removed as he unfastens his tie around his neck. He spares you a lingering glance as you lay sheepishly on the bed perched on your elbows, legs ajar as your folds glisten in the soft bedroom light. Jack quickly rids himself of his clothing, slipping his boxers off to reveal his hard on. A comfortable length with all the girth to fulfil you, tip flushed pink as it brims with precum. It takes everything in you not to sink to your knees and fill your mouth with his cock.

As he approaches the bed, he motions for you to turn around and you do so with no questions asked, back arched as you wait in anticipation as you feel the bed dip with his presence. Jack comes up behind you, body so incredibly close yet somehow so far away as his hands make contact with your burning skin, giving the flesh on your back a brief massage. A surprised hum vibrates in your chest as Jack drags a single finger along the dip of your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he adjusts himself behind you, to which you push your ass back against his hard on.

“Stop teasing.” you sound more desperate than intended, cheek squished into your cool silk pillow.

“Can’t admire my girl before I fuck her?” The nonchalance of his tone draws a mewl out of you, your hips jutting as they search for any more contact. “Besides,”

Hands resting against the mould of your hips, one shifts as you feel his cold index finger draw in between your folds, fingertips swirling around your clit. You moan brokenly, body curling into itself. “You’re just here to take it, aren’t you, princess?”

You’re nodding before your brain can even compute his words, humming along to accentuate your point as his fingertips continue to swirl along the shape of your clit. It’s too much and not enough - a tug of war of sorts that makes your hips rock into Jack, an action that at one point, has his tip catching against your wet entrance. A hiss from behind you sounds as you grapple onto the pillow beside you. 

Jack’s hand leaves you high and dry, but alias, his patiences dissipates into the night sky as he glides into you in one smooth motion, robbing you of your breath and sanity as your mouth gapes open and eyes roll. Sinking into the mattress, your spread legs accommodate for the snap of Jack’s hips as he starts to fuck you from behind, your back curving as you gladly take everything he’s offering. Face mangled into your hoard of pillows, your fingers cling to the duvet for some kind of security, at the mercy of Jack who pleases you in all the way he knows how. 

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, maybe genuinely because his strength seems somehow restricted, but you’re keening high in your throat at how filthy his words fall from his rosy lips so easily. 

“Harder,” you plead, losing yourself in the pleasure as your one hand shuffles to rub against your neglected clit. “Harder, please.”

And, he obliges, bullying his cock into you as you gasp at the impact. A smack lands against your ass, the supple surface sizzling as your hips retract, Jack’s ironclad grip holding you from escaping any further as his fingers make indents into your skin like notches in a bedpost. 

“Hang on,” his pace slows, breath laboured as you feel him pull out of you reluctantly. “Turn around. I need to see you.”

You squirm against the sheets, easily complying with Jack’s wishes that suit you, your body turning as your sweaty-layered back sticks to the duvet. In the dimmed light of your bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Jack, whose wet curls fall in all the right places and how every outline of his well-built body drives you wild. You catch the shallow rises of his chest and the flush against his cheeks and as he tucks stray strands of hairs behind his ears, his hands find purchase at your thighs and draw you closer. It’s when he looks into your eyes, shameless in the pleasure written all over his face as he pushes into you again that you think you could never get tired of this view. 

Your walls mould to the shape of his cock, sucking him in entirely as you both moan at the feeling. To add fuel to the fire, Jack decides to unfold your legs and hoist them over his shoulders, the new angle burying him even deeper and bringing you closer to the edge. A huff of amusement sounds from Jack as he peers down at your parted lips, wasting no time in fucking you into the mattress as the bed creaks underneath the pressure. His earlier annoyance rears its head in his movements, unsettled irritation laced in the impact of his thrusts, your cunt leaking all around him as he pounds into you relentlessly. So close in proximity, Jack takes the opportunity to caress your cheek, a sweet gesture as your breath hitches, all before his hand slowly drifts down towards your neck. An affirmative nod from you is he needs to tighten his grip, your brewing orgasm intensifying tenfold as he maintains all the eye contact to make you shudder.

He’s balls deep in you, each hard thrust punctuated by the smack of the wooden headboard against the bedroom wall. You feel him all around you like some wicked embrace: in your stomach, your lungs and around your throat, the snug clasp his calloused hand holds against your pressure points lolling your mouth open, gasping at the sheer intensity stewing within you. 

Jack takes the opportunity, wet curls stuck to his forehead, leaning closer as he spits directly into your mouth, as he does onto the ice throughout his games. Something twists violently in you, back arching off the bed as your lips fall close to moan from the deepest parts within you, the taste of Jack on your tongue. 

“Taking me like such a good girl,” he praises, your reflection plentiful in his eyes. “If I’d known you liked this, would have done it a long time ago.”

Everything begins to blur at the edges like an old photograph, bliss engulfing you in its heavenly fire as your skin shimmers with sweat and your nails scrape at Jack’s shoulder - a futile attempt to regain control that had been long lost, your bodies movement forgotten as you squirm and shiver all over. 

Oxygen courses back into your deprived lungs as Jack releases his grip, burning hand against your cheek as his thumb brushes your cheekbone, catching your fluttering eyelashes. “I got you, baby. Got you, princess.”

“Never been fucked,” a whimper escapes when Jack notches that spongy spot that buries your nails into his skin, “like this. Feels-fuck, good.”

He laughs lightly, pace stuttering yet hitting all the right places. “Love giving my pretty girl what she wants,”

You clench around him, embedding your nails into the flesh of his back as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, gaze scattered. “And my pretty girl wants to come, don’t you?”

He poses the rhetorical question with a mean pinch at your clit before pushing a heavy hand down on your lower stomach, the pressure accelerating you towards your fast-approaching orgasm. The sounds pour out of you like a waterfall, eyebrows furrowed as you plead with begging eyes. “Kiss me?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” he breathes, almost whiny as his hand circles around your nape, your figure floating as your lips collide in a messy embrace, rhythm unmatched as your yearning seeps through your teeth. 

Jack captures all your moans in his mouth, the new angle of his thrusts adding to the sloppiness of your wet kiss. The smack of his stuttering hips knocks against your clit in a way that has you seeing beyond, swallowed whole by his galaxy of stars as he gives you one last jerky thrust, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to undo you. Frayed at the seams, you come undone, unravelling in a mess that perfectly matches Jack as he quickly comes after you, coating your walls as your cunt spasms all around him as he rides out his high. 

Once Jack’s shallow thrusts grind to a halt, he slowly pulls out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with you as he runs a finger down your sensitive cunt just to get a shiver out of you. Your eyebrows knit, a flare of annoyance mixed in with fatigue written across your face that draws a humoured snicker from your boyfriend. He collapses down next to you, a kiss pressed against your cheek before you both aimlessly stare up at the ceiling. 

Amusement tugs at the corners of your lips. “You should get angry more often.” 

“I was just about to say the same thing.” agrees Jack, laughter making its home between you two as nothing but sweetness lingers in the air.

“Come on,” he urges, his hand nudging yours, body prying itself off your bed as he goes to stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

[hpowellsmith]

Honor Bound Chapter 7 Update!

I’m delighted to share Honor Bound Chapter 7 on Dashingdon and itch! You can skip any number of chapters to start at the chapter of your choice, or you can play through the whole thing. You can try loading a save you made before this update, but you will probably need to start a fresh one. If you encounter a bug when using a loaded save, please try replaying through the whole thing or using the chapter-skip to replay the chapter in which you found the problem - in some cases this will fix it!

If you have a minute, I’d love to hear your feedback! As before, there is some feedback that I’m waiting until later to implement, and a minor character who hasn’t been added in yet, but I always pay attention to all feedback being sent in.

This new demo is around 306,000 words, with Chapter 7 and various edits adding around 43,000 words to the whole thing!

This is going to be the last chapter that I put up publicly before the beta testing begins. I may put up edits to Chapters 1-7 before then, and will implement bugfixes, but we’re getting towards the home stretch now and I’d like playtesters to have the experience of playing all the later chapters so they can have a big-picture perspective on how the branches can go.

In this chapter you will encounter:

a lot of bad things (more detailed content notes below)

As well as the new chapter, I’ve made some significant edits to earlier chapters in response to player feedback - more about that below too.

Many thanks to everyone for their feedback - it’s been so helpful! Thanks especially to an anonymous Patreon subscriber who gave some really useful comments about some Chapter 7 one-on-one scenes which inspired me to expand on them and include some extra characterful moments.

Read more about Honor Bound on the forum thread

Play the Honor Bound demo on dashingdon and itch

Give feedback

Wishlist on Steam

Revisions:

Overall:

More references to trauma responses when PC’s health is low, more reference to cane use, a bit more flavour text about the injury, more flavour text referring to health improvements to reflect the PC looking after themself

Chapters 5 and 6: added talk with Denario about the PC being trans if it didn’t happen in Chapter 3

General typo fixes

Chapter 4

expanded a branch of the late-chapter Korzha scene for more breathing room

Chapter 5

added option to medically assess Korzha when they look sick

minor expansion of conversation with Catarina about what she thinks about the trip

minor expansion of letter-writing with Fiore

Chapter 6

tweaked Alva’s assignment offer, with clearer information and potential disadvantages of taking it

expanded end of Savarel’s one-on-one scene

fixed an error making end of Korzha’s goodnight scene shorter than intended

added a choice to enable an amorous PC and Raffi to hide what’s going on from Simone

added optional one-on-one Denario scene, including optional sex scene

Chapter 7 content notes: earthquake, quicksand, fire, building collapse, potential severe injuries to the PC and others​

[barbwritesstuff]

Thicker Than - Monthly Update

Hello everyone! Happy full moon! I hope you’ve had a great month.

Here's the link to the Thicker Than Demo!

I didn’t get as much done as I’d hoped this month (I think I got a little burnt out and took a week off), but I’m really proud of what I have put together. Both Nathan and Tracy’s intimate scenes are finished and I’ve got some good ideas about what I want to do with some of the other characters. My plan is to work on the no-romance route and Ravima’s route this coming month. However, I do have some editing to do on another project, so that’ll probably slow me down a wee bit.

Someone very kindly emailed me a list of small coding errors/typos/grammar mistakes which I’ve been slowly working my way through. I haven’t fixed all of those yet, but I’m hoping to finish going through the list this weekend. That feedback is hugely helpful. Sometimes it’s really hard to spot all those silly little mistakes, especially now that the word count is starting to get kind of high. It’s great knowing other people are taking the time to help me whip this game into shape.

Speaking of word count: OVER 300k! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

It feels really good hitting this milestone. I was so unsure about making a sequel to Blood Moon for a long time because I was worried I wouldn’t be able to do the vampires justice. Getting to this point is so incredible.

I really hope you like it. As always, thanks so much for all your encouragement and support. If you spot any errors, mistakes, or weirdness, please let me know. 

Update Details:

As of the 23rd of May 2024

Continued to work on Chapter Ten

Finished Tracy and Nathan’s intimate scenes

Spelling/Grammar fixes

Minor bug fixes

Additional Words: 24,282 (excluding commands)

Total Word Count: 318,292 (excluding commands)

💙

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 7

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, mention of death, Mention of panic attacks, some angst, SMUT! 

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter has Jensen realizing how much he messed up and working on fixing what he broke, with a little help from a sweet little girl. 😀

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days in the house were strained. The kids went to school and I stayed to myself for most of the day. Terri and the other nurse, Angela would alternate coming in and taking care of Jensen. His physical therapy was starting today, so Angela was waiting on the physical therapist downstairs with me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you doing? This can’t be easy on you.” I looked up from the book I was reading, “I’m okay. My main focus is Jensen getting better. Then we can move on. His kids need him back to his old self.” “You and your little girl do too.” She offered a smile. I just nodded.

The pain in my heart had only grown since that day. Jensen and I hadn’t spoken since. I would wait until Terri or Angela was in the room with him before I’d go in and grab what I needed. I couldn’t look at him. Just hearing his voice broke me. 

Jared and Gen had come by to check on us and offer advice. They knew the gap between Jensen and I was only getting wider. Jared being the mediator he is, tried his best to help repair Jensen and I. 

“Jared, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I really do, but Jensen made it clear he blames me for the accident, and he doesn’t want me here. We haven’t slept in the same room since that day. I just have to figure out what to do. Jazzy loves him so much, and I love the kids. I can’t break her heart or theirs’, but I can’t continue to live with someone who is angry with me.” 

Jared pulled me into a big hug, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know you and Jazzy are welcome to stay with us if you need to. We know how you feel about going back home.” “I appreciate it, Jared, but I can’t drive a wedge between you and your brother. I love you guys too much to do that.”

As Jared and I talked, Gen went upstairs to check on Jensen. Angela was helping him sit back down when she walked in. 

“Hey Gen. It’s good to see you. Is Jared here too?” Jensen smiled. “Yes he is, but don’t use that smile on me Jensen Ross!” Jensen’s eyes went wide, “Whoa what did I do?” Angela excused herself to give Gen and Jensen some space. “You broke her fucking heart is what you did, Jensen. She’s lonely and so heart broken. She truly believes you blame her for the accident.” 

“Gen, I never said that to her. I don’t blame her.” “You might not have said it, but your actions speak louder than any words. Have you even tried to talk to her?” Jensen just shook his head no. 

“Dammit Jensen, you’re going to lose her and that beautiful little girl.” Jensen’s breath hitched. He knew Gen was telling the truth, but he wasn’t sure how to fix this or if you’d want to fix it.

The conversation with Gen and Jared was two days ago. Jensen had tried to reach out to you through text since you wouldn’t come near the room. He didn’t want to get the kids involved, so he figured he’d text you.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart. Can we talk?

Me: I’m not sure what there is to talk about.

Jensen: Us? How much of an asshole I am. How you have every right to walk away from me, and hate me.

Me: I don’t hate you, Jensen.

Jensen: Well, that’s a start. Can you come to our bedroom so we can talk?

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really tired. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.

Jensen: Oh, okay. I’d like that. I love you, Y/N.

Me: Good night, Jensen.

I put my phone down and sobbed. I wanted to run into the room and hold him. Kiss his lips and tell him how much I loved him. I knew he was hurting, but so was I. I was scared of never holding him again, never feeling his love again. 

I sobbed into my pillow. Sleeping down the hall from him was so hard. I craved his touch, I wanted to feel safe enough to sleep, but I couldn’t. Then I heard a soft knock on my door. I wiped my face, sat up and said “come in.” It was Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay?” I asked, trying to hide the tears. “I’m sad mommy.” I pulled her into my lap, “Why are you sad baby?” “Because you’re sad, and Daddy Jensen got hurt.” “Oh sweetie, I’m okay, and Jensen will be okay too. He’s doing great with his healing and he’s starting to walk around more.” “But mommy, you’re not in there with him. You’re in here and you’re so sad. Sad like when daddy died.” 

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know she knew I was so sad, I’d only cry at night after I was sure they were asleep. “Oh baby, I’ll be okay. I’m just sad Jensen got hurt and is upset about it. Everything is going to be okay baby.” I kissed her head and smiled, trying to fight the pain away. I carried her back to her bed, gave her Braveheart and kissed her head again.

I went back to the guest room and crawled in the bed. Covering my head with the blanket and burying my face deep in the pillow, I let out a scream and then I just broke. 

Jensen laid in bed, flipping through the photo album I had made for him. He missed me so much, my lips, my hands, my body. He knew he fucked up and it was going to take more than a text to fix this. 

As he put the album away, he heard a soft knock on his door. His heart leaped in his chest. “Come in.” He said softly, but loud enough to be heard. The door slowly opened. Thinking he was about to see me, he was a little taken back when he saw Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay? Mommy isn't here.” She climbed on the bed beside Jensen and snuggled next to him, “I know daddy, she’s in the other room, crying like when my other daddy died. She’s really sad. I hear her cry every night. Are you going to die too?” 

Jensen’s heart broke, hearing that you cried every night, “No baby girl I’m not. I’m okay. Mommy is just sad because I’m hurt and she can’t help me. I promise you I’ll make Mommy’s heart better.” “Okay daddy, I love you. I’m going back to bed now.” “I love you too sweetheart, and thank you for letting me know about mommy.” She nodded and left the room. 

Jensen was determined to get to me. He grabbed his crutches and headed towards the guest room. He lightly knocked on the door waiting for me to answer. I couldn’t hear the door through the blanket, pillow and the sobs. 

He opened the door and saw me, head covered and buried in the pillow, he could hear my sobs. Tears fell from his eyes. It broke him to see me so broken, knowing he caused it. He walked to the side of the bed and sat down, lightly touching my back. 

I shot up and looked at him. “Jensen, what are you doing here?” I wiped my face, trying to hide the fact that I had been crying. He lifted my chin with his hand, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for anything. I fucked up. I took it out on one of the most important people to me, and now I’ve lost you.”

I looked at Jensen, I could see the regret and sadness in his eyes. “Jensen, you haven’t lost me, but you have to talk to me. We won’t make it if you don’t open up to me and talk to me. Why did you take it out on me? If you don’t blame me, then what was it?”

Jensen took a deep breath, “The day I got hurt I had been so distracted. All I wanted to do was be home with you and the kids. When Dee and I first started dating, we acted in the same town and didn’t have children, so being apart wasn’t an issue. After JJ was born it started to get harder, but we made it work. When you and Jazzy came into our lives, I never wanted to leave your side. Especially after everything you two had been through.”

“After I talked to you and you told me about Jazzy I got in my head. Thinking about how lonely she must be feeling and how she’d already lost one daddy and I was sure she was feeling like I left her too. I hated myself for making her feel that way.” I touched Jensen’s arm, “Jensen, she’s okay. I promise.” 

“What about her mommy?” His green eyes, full of regret, looked deeply into mine. “I’m getting there.” My breath hitched, it was hard to look him in his eyes. I swallowed hard, being this close to him I could feel his body heat. My heart rate picked up. Then his hand brushed against my cheek. I leaned into his touch. It had been too long since I felt him. 

Instinctively I leaned closer to him. I could feel his hot breath mixing with mine. “Jensen..” “Y/N..” My lips crashed against his in a kiss that was full of need, regret and love. Oh so much love. His hands tangled into my hair as we deepened the kiss. The pain, sorrow and anger from the past few days was slowly starting to melt away. 

When we finally pulled away from each other, our chests were rising and falling quickly taking in air. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. I never should have taken anything out on you. You and the kids are everything to me. I’d be lost without you five. Please baby, don’t leave me, don’t leave us.” 

“Jensen, you can’t do that to me. You can’t push me away when things get bad. You have to talk to me, if we’re going to make it, we have to deal with things together.” 

“I promise baby, I will never push you away again. I love you sweetheart, so much. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll still have me.” 

I placed my hand on his chest, “Jensen, I love you so much. These past few days have been horrible without you. I hated this distance between us.” He placed his hand on mine, “Then let’s go to our room and go to bed baby.”

I nodded as I helped Jensen stand and we walked back to our room. Once in the room, Jensen closed the door and I helped him back to the bed. He set his crutches to the side, and I slid in the bed. 

Jensen offered me his arm, and I scooted towards him, laying my head on his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “God I love you so much. I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’m so fucking foolish.” 

“Jensen, what really  happened on set? I know you well enough to know what we talked about before didn’t distract you that much.” Jensen sighed, “Well the scene I was shooting involved me saving a little girl about Jazzy’s age. Homelander was using her as bait to get to her parents. He killed her father and the little girl was crying out for her daddy. I had to rescue her, and when I started to grab her all I could think about was Jazzy and how I wanted to protect her and you from Robert. I started to have a panic attack and felt dizzy, lost my balance and fell. I was so embarrassed.” 

“Jensen, having a panic attack isn’t something to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry that scene triggered you and caused you so much pain. We are safe, Jensen. Safe because we have you. I hope you know that little girl in the other room sees you as her daddy. She feels safe with you, with your children. I see you as my partner, my love, my forever, my home. I love you so much Jensen, nothing will ever change that. You saved us not only from Robert, but from our empty life.”

Tears pricked Jensen’s eyes, and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I see you as my love, my forever, my home too. I see Jazzy as my daughter, you both fit perfectly here with us. I know the road that led us together was paved with heartache and loss, but I am so glad I have both of you.” 

I let out a deep sigh. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jensen asked softly as he held me tight. “I was so scared seeing you in that hospital. It brought back all those buried feelings from when I lost Joshua. I was so scared I was going to lose you too. Then I’d have to go home and tell our babies you weren’t coming home. I didn’t know how I was going to survive that.” 

Jensen kissed me and pulled me tightly. “I’m okay, baby. I promise you won’t have to have that conversation with them.” 

I smiled and relaxed against him. “Oh, Y/N, can we get rid of the nurses now? They are great, but do I really need a nurse when I have you?” “Maybe. You don’t like it when Terri or Angela give you a bath?” I giggled. “You know what, no.” He laughed. “The only woman I want to see all of this is you, my love.” 

“Okay, I’ll call the agency tomorrow. Besides with you doing physical therapy you should be back moving around by yourself soon. I think we can tell them goodbye if you’re sure.” 

“Oh yes, I’m positive.” He kissed me again. “Hey sweetheart, do you think tomorrow you can help me take a shower?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’d love to, now let’s go to sleep.” 

“Good night sweetheart, I love you.” “Good night, Jens. I love you too.” We kissed again and then I fell into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his arms. 

The next morning when I woke up I woke up with Jensen’s strong arms still wrapped around me. I snuggled closer to him and nudged him awake. “Jens, I need to get up and get the kids ready for school.” “Just five more minutes, please.” He said in a gruff voice, pulling me closer to him. 

About an hour later I was heading out the door with the kids to get them to school. Jensen was up and doing his physical therapy. He had a doctor’s appointment later in the afternoon, so he wanted to shower and be ready. 

When I got back home his physical therapist was getting ready to leave. I stopped him to check on Jensen’s progress. He told me Jensen was doing really well and he thought Jensen would be released back to work in another week or two. He just wouldn’t be able to do any stunts for another few months. 

Walking into our shared room I saw Jensen sitting on the bed without his shirt on. I bit my lip. God he was a gorgeous man, even covered in sweat from his workout. “You ready for your shower, baby?’

“More than ready.” He smiled. I put the plastic over his cast and started the water for him. He had a towel wrapped around his hips that left nothing to the imagination. My thighs clenched together. 

Seeing Jensen practically naked had my body reacting in ways that even made me blush. 

Jensen smirked, “Like what you see, darlin’?” 

I bit my lip, “God yes.” I let out a breath. Jensen pulled me closer and kissed me deeply. Biting my lower lip as he pulled back. 

I set up the shower seat for him. I knew it was easier for him to navigate the shower sitting down. I helped him in and handed him the showerhead. His bottom lip poked out in a pout. I chuckled, “What’s wrong?” “I thought you were going to help me.” “Jens, in order for me to help you I have to get in the shower, and I have my clothes on.” Jensen smirked, “So take them off.” 

I could see his length growing and my desire building. I slowly started to remove my clothes. My heart beating wildly in my chest. 

With my clothes off I climbed in the shower with Jensen. His eyes scanned my body and I blushed. “God you’re gorgeous, baby. Come ‘ere.” He pulled me close to him and I stood between his legs. His length was rock hard as it pressed against my thigh.

Jensen pulled my lips to his and kissed me. His hand snaked up my thighs and fingers went in between my folds. He smirked against my lips feeling how wet I was. I gasped as his fingers slid inside me, setting a rhythmic pace as he hooked his fingers up. 

My hips are moving in tandem with him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I began to give into the pleasure that was moving through my body. It had been so long since he touched me and I was embarrassed I was already close. 

I bit my lip to stifle the moan, “Jens, oh fuck, I’m close.” His fingers hooked up and he started rubbing my clit, “Let go for me baby.” His lips attached to my nipples, and he sucked hard. I screamed in pleasure. “Oh fuck, Jensen! I’m cumming.” My head fell backwards as his hands continued to work their magic. 

My legs began to shake and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “Jensen, I need you.” I breathed out. Jensen pumped his length a few times and I straddled him, taking every inch inside. I placed my hands on his shoulders to help steady myself. As Jensen adjusted and pushed further inside we both moaned. 

“God, you feel so good baby.” Jensen’s head laid in the crook of my neck. I began to move my hips and grind down on him. “Yes, baby! Keep doing that.” He kissed my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

I felt I needed more leverage so I got up, pulling a groan from him, then I sat with my back against his chest. I took his length in hand and guided him in. My legs placed firmly on the ground in between his. I used his thighs to steady my hands as I continued to bounce up and down. Each bounce pulled Jensen closer to his release. 

“Fuck! That feels so good, Y/N. Don’t stop, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum.” Jensen grabbed my hips and with a grunt I felt his load shooting inside me. His body trembling under mine as he filled me up. 

When he was done I stood up, cleaned myself and him up, and turned off the water. Jensen stood with my help, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. “That was amazing, baby. It’s been far too long.” I kissed his lips, “Yes it was, and yes it has been.” 

“Best shower sex I’ve ever had.” Jensen chuckled. “I’m glad, it definitely was for me too.” 

After we got dressed, Jensen pulled me in for a kiss. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for not giving up on me, on us.” I lightly touched his chest, “Jensen, I will always fight for you, for us. I love you too.”

We left our shared room together, heading downstairs to leave for Jensen’s appointment. No matter what the doctor said today, I know we both will tackle it together. 

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

Tags: 

@nescaveckwriter @kr804573 

@k-slla @jackles010378 

@jawritter @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx 

@roseblue373 @cheynovak 

@jassackles  @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa 

@n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 

@smoothdogsgirl @hobby27 

@manicjk @stoneyggirl2 

@deans-spinster-witch @snowayumi 

@shadowqueen1318 @shanimallina87

@muhahaha303 @fitxgrld

@nancymcl @baby19sthings

@cheekygirl2309 @oceean

@kindollss @foxyjwls007

@lmg14 @cevansbaby-dove

@spxideyver @reignsboy19

@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

@ladykitana90 @quietgirll75 

@superrey @kamisobsessed

@obliviousap @ninii-winchester

@mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @whimsyfinny

@bobbdylan @star-yawnznn

@reignsboy19 @monkey-d-hoshizora98

@depressionbarbie2023 @livingdeadblondequeen

@mandee7

[livesworthlivingau]

AO3 TIME!!!

I have FINALLY started the process of uploading my fic to Ao3, I've only got a few up there so far but I'm working on porting them all over, you will still find the new chapters on tumblr at least until I catch up on Ao3, then I might swap over permanently, or maybe I'll still post on both, either way the Ao3 version will likely be a little more edited, especially revisiting these older chapters I've done some minor edits. Nothing that seriously changes things, just some minor things like word choice, fixing errors, little touches I wanted to add or change, etc. Once I finish transferring every chapter over, I plan to reorganize my blog and the hub posts heavily.

[distantmaniacallaugh]

Local Artist Announcement!

Sup! With the next chapter underway, and some very helpful constructive criticism from a friend, I’ve decided to make a few changes to the older parts of the fic. Radical.

What does this ACTUALLY mean? Info below cut, if you dare.

I doubt many— if any— of you lot are ACTUALLY here from my fuck ass crazy Kinger longfic, but I thought I’d make an announcement about this anyway. Apologies in advance.

‼️I will NOT be editing the actual plot, ONLY the pacing!‼️

This is very important to understand. The plan is to avoid making people reread, and to make sure the fic— ERGO, MATERIAL HOSTED ON AO3– remains readable at all stages. I’m only going to add, not subtract. For honor and integrities sake (also, because I don’t wanna!)

Changes you can expect:

updated formatting, all chapters

’New’ chapter 4

”blank” 40k announcement chapter

Fixed images, embeds, and CSS, all chapters

Fixed links all chapters

MINOR dialogue tweaks for character consistency, chapters 1-6, chapters 9 and 11

overhaul of non-ao3 content,

Deletion of comments (with outdated links)

…And chapter 9 being split into 2 parts. Because, y’know. What was I thinking with that one.

this means I’ve finished it, and came back to update the list, or something.

What does this mean?

Absolutely nothing for most people. Aside from the ‘new’ chapter being added to smooth over the transition from happy happy fun time to incomprehensible screaming, there’ll be no new information introduced. I’ll add a disclaimer in the summary so any subscribed readers will understand what’s going on. Hi to those people by the way— having fun yet?

Why are you doing this now?

I want to. Plus I care about my story being engaging, understandable, and coherent for people to read. Local Artist is the first big project I’m determined to finish, and as I learn more about how to write long narratives, I want it to reflect those improvements.

Why are you making such a long post about it?

So I can bookmark the change, mostly? I don’t think Local Artist is ever going to be insanely popular, but it’s gotten some attention in the past, and I want to respect those old readers by detailing this transition as much as I can. (Plus, I’m eventually going to make a master post for local Artist, and I want to link this there.)

What about the old version of the fic?

Already archived on the way back machine, as @heartz4moth can attest. You could read it there. don’t. I also have a personal PDF copy, and the original Google docs. So unless I die in a fire, local Artist will remain!

Will the non-ao3 content also be revised?

Yes. With the acception of a few parts worth staying where they are, I’m rearranging that to a much greater extent than the fic itself. ‘Removal’ of an element does not make it non canon, (i probably just didn’t want it appearing as early as it did) but, if something doesn’t reappear by the end of the fic itself, it’s…yeah. Sorry dude.

I only just found out about this now. Can I still read this masterpiece?

You can, but keep in mind no arg discoveries will be considered canon until I’m done, so I’d wait until I announce that it’s been fully revised. I’m releasing these changes in chunks, and once all of It is finished, there’ll be another announcement. (And I’ll edit this post)(if I feel like it)

I only just found out about this now. You sound deranged.

Yeah.

When will it be done?

At time of writing, I’ve gotten the ‘new’ chapter hot off the Google docs, (thanks to @spark-hearts2 !) and the non-ao3 stuff is fully on its way to completion as well. Unfortunately my gay ass linked everything up like a daisy chain, so I have to beat out the kinks through trial and error. Also I have work. That being said: probably by May? Who knows. Life is a bitch!

…why are you putting so much energy into this??

in the words of Greg Katz: cheaper than therapy.

[nymeriian]

interwoven chapter 1 wip

good afternoon, you!

i've had some time before work to do a little writing so i thought i’d post the opening snippet of interwoven chapter 1, it hasn't really been edited or anything, so do forgive any errors and keep in mind things may change between this and the final chapter. it will give you a little glimpse at my writing so you can decide whether you fucking hate it and want to avoid interwoven at all costs or hopefully not ! <3 enjoy

content warnings: minor mentions of gore / violence

The unmistakable metallic tang of blood on her tongue is the first thing that Nymeria’s mind recognises as she regains consciousness and then, the incessant throbbing of her head. This is followed swiftly by a sickly churning of her stomach as she remembers the worm that was recently inserted into her brain. She remains still for a few more moments, keeping her eyes closed against the searing sun as she gathers the courage to fend off any potential illithid survivors…as if courage would do her any good. 

Twitching her fingers at her sides, she feels sand beneath their tips. She could almost pretend that she’s on a seaside holiday, that the rock digging into her side is actually the new Edmure Thrall historical romance novel for her to weep over - if it weren’t for the stench of charred flesh she inhales with each dreaded gust of coastal breeze. 

“Are you dead?”

Her eyes flick open in response to the unexpected voice, her body tensing in anticipation of having to defend herself. She recognises the woman she helped escape from the nautiloid, a half-elf like herself, that was trapped in one of those disgusting pods. Nymeria shudders in remembrance and pushes herself up into a sitting position, extending a hand toward the woman in hopes of receiving help standing. The stranger hesitates before clasping her by the forearm and yanking her to her feet then taking a few cautious steps back. 

“Not dead, though I’m not quite sure how…” Nymeria trails off as she glances around, taking in their surroundings and squinting in the brilliant sunlight starkly illuminating the scene of utter carnage, severed body parts and guts stain the sands of an unfamiliar beach and the fires of the wreckage send roiling pillars of black smoke to taint the otherwise clear blue skies. She swallows the lump that has formed in her throat and attempts to settle her features into a mask of nonchalant coolness. 

“Do you have any inkling as to where we’ve landed?” She sighs as she brushes sand from her torn and singed lavender gown, fussing with the hem as though it will fix the fact half of the skirt is missing.

She had been honoured with the opportunity to give the prestigious end of year lecture, which was where she was headed to when she had been abducted. Weeks upon weeks of preparation and anxieties that she would trip up the stairs or fumble her lines only to be kidnapped by a troupe of evil octopi. The dress had been a gift from Aymond for her first day teaching at Hollow Hall and it is the most beloved, most exquisitely made, item of clothing she owns, only bringing it out of storage for special occasions. Being experimented on by mind-flayers could be considered special, if you like to use the word in a sarcastic sort of way. She never did get Aymond to admit how much he spent on it…she wonders if she will ever get the chance. 

“In fact, do you know anything at all about what in the world we just experienced? Where that gith went? How I didn’t splatter on the rocks like the rest of these poor creatures?” Her tone does not betray the way her heart feels like it is bouncing around her chest like a handful of gold scattered across a brothel floor. 

“No, I don’t remember anything after falling…nor do I recognise this area. Perhaps we should stick together, at least until we find a healer to remove these worms from our heads- “cut off abruptly, she clutches a hand over her eye, just as Nymeria begins to feel a squirming, ticklish pain behind her own. Squeezing her eyes shut, she sees quick flashes of memories, none of which she recognises. 

“Shadowheart.” Nymeria muses aloud, almost without meaning to. 

“How did you…yes, that’s my name.” Automatically reaching for the daunting mace strapped to her back, which Nymeria notices is already stained with old blood, Shadowheart widens her stance, ready to strike at the first sign of a threat. 

“All I have on me is a small coin purse and my lecture notes, so would you rather die choking on gold or via papercut?” Nymeria teases, pretending not to be entirely freaked out by seeing into what she presumes was Shadowheart’s mind and pulling her dress pockets out to prove her claim.

“Look, I can’t fight, and I don’t want to, whatever just happened was not my doing, I swear to you. Perhaps it’s these pesky tadpoles…if you’d still like to stick together, well, I think that would be the smartest idea. If I’m going to experience agonising ceremorphosis, some company would be appreciated.”

Shadowheart allows herself a small smirk before she relaxes and her stormy eyes soften. "Thank you, by the way, for helping me back there...you didn't have to do that, I don't know if I would have done that." She doesn't wait for a response before heading down the beach, mace still in hand, “Alright, come on. Baby steps. Let us try and figure out where we are and find somewhere we can safely set up camp. Then later, you can explain what in the hells ‘ceremorphosis’ means.” “Why aren’t you putting the mace away?” Nymeria falls into step beside her, twisting her large volume of dark hair around one hand and holding it up and away from her neck, letting the breeze hit the uncomfortable perspiration in an attempt to cool down. 

“There may well be other survivors…unfriendly ones. If you truly are useless in combat, you can scavenge for supplies and I’ll- “ “Provide the muscle?”  “Exactly.” Her voice is kinder now, more at ease, since she doesn’t believe Nymeria to be a threat. “Here, start putting anything useful you find in this.” She slams an empty canvas rucksack into Nymeria’s arms as her gaze falls upon an intellect devourer rounding the corner. It begins scuttling rapidly toward them, claws skittering menacingly on the rocks it crawls over. Her tone darkens, “and I’ll take care of that.”

“Deal.” 

[feral-fae-writes]

Hot Gum || One-Shot

A/N: I’m back from the dead. Ain’t that lovely. @rayofsarkasm, you’re welcome. This is my preemptive apology for when we finish reading Ellen Hopkin’s Identical. Minor formatting and editing errors because I’m (unfortunately) posting this on my phone. I’ll fix them at a later time; I don’t have access to a desktop right now. Enjoy, loves.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Dr. Spencer Reid × BAU Agent!Reader

Wordcount: 1,062(?) Will double-check later.

Type: One-Shot

Summary: A late-night investigation turns into a minor interrogation, and Dr. Reid is only concerned with one outcome — verbal revelation among the fires of hell.

Hot Gum

It wasn’t Spencer that caved first. It was you. Yeah, you’d seen him every so often outside of the BAU’s office when you (rarely) left Garcia’s office, and every single time, his eyes followed. He wasn’t openly staring, no. He was more respectful than that. But you could feel intrigued eyes on yours every step.

You’d asked him what his deal was; the two of you were working late one night — he was checking some information in the database, and you were… supervising? Yeah, supervising Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Reid, who had… What, three PhD’s? The excuse made even your eyes roll.

He didn’t answer.

Truth be told, you just couldn’t stand the idea of anyone being in the repository room after dark. You watched him work; he was chewing gum as he typed without looking at his hands, flames flickering between eyes and screen.

“What are you looking for?”

“The last known on-the-grid location of the unsub. An internet trail.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“What, you’re going to magic a lead out of thin air? Isn’t that usually Garcia’s thing?”

“Yes. But: ‘Chicks dig magic,’” he replied.

The reply seemed a little quippy, and you tilted your head in blatant amusement. “Who told you that?”

“Morgan.”

“Hm. What flavour of gum is that?”

“Cinnamon.”

Silence (and the sound of typing) hung in the air for a few minutes.

“What’s your problem?” You blurted out. Immediately, a hand came up to cover your mouth in shock, as if to backpedal — as if to rescind the words. “Shit, I’m—”

“My problem?” He inquired, fingertips pausing on the keys, hummingbird hands still. Why were you noticing his hands? You shook your head and tried to meet his eyes.

“I mean… I just don’t get it, Spencer.”

He blinked. His hands tensed slightly on the keyboard; maybe you’d offended him by calling him by his first name? The rest of the team called him by Reid. You barreled onward. No going back now, lines of formality crossed concerning his name or not.

“You watch me like a hawk, but you’ve not said a word to me since I joined the BAU.”

“That was intentional. I’m sorry. If it helps, I… I admire the work you do; I could never understand it.”

Now it was your turn to blink. Dr. Spencer Reid — the team-proclaimed genius, the man who could read 20,000 words per minute and had an eidetic memory — couldn’t figure out computers.

“I’m a technophobe,” he explained further, tonally dipping into a register he only used for his apparently not-so-rare (according to the team, but not in your experience) insights into random information.

“It’s not as uncommon as you might think. Even as early as the 19th century, relatively speaking, people were afraid of technology advancing. Poets William Wordsworth and William Blake believed that the technological changes taking place as a part of the industrial revolution were a pollution — a turn of circumstances that tarnished their cherished views of nature.”

His voice was reserved, even soft, as he talked about poets and progress, and, to be honest, you were only half-listening. His voice lulled you into a sort of dreamy comfort you didn’t have words for, when he did speak. His eyes never left the screen.

“You sound like an encyclopedia.”

“To the rest of the team, I am one.”

“Right. You never answered my question, Doctor.”

At that, he spun in his chair to face you, halfway, his hands flitting up off the keys, then back. A gasp escaped you — In surprise? In fear? … In excitement? — but he didn’t outwardly react.

“My problem is you.”

“What?”

“I’m curious about you.”

You scanned him, looking for something, but you didn't even know what. Your eyes trailed his hair, his eyes, the bridge of his nose, his stubbled jaw… his lips. When he spoke again, it was in a low whisper. His hands left the keyboard for a third time, hummingbird wings flitting up to brush a lock of hair out of your eyes. And then he took your glasses off.

“Hey!”

“Darling,” he murmured. Darling? “I can’t go through this again.”

His voice carried a smoky rasp that sent distant coppery desire through you. He inspected your glasses. You stared at him, staring at them, through mildly blurry vision.

“You’re near-sighted. To a severe degree.”

“Your point, Doctor?” He wasn’t an optometrist, too… was he? That’d be the cherry on top of the super-genius sundae.

“My point,” he started, looking up at you with somber, doe-like brown eyes, “is that you won’t need these. May I?” He asked, inclining his head toward your glasses.

“Excuse me? Doctor—“

He pulled you in, with gentle insistence; despite that, it was sudden and you let out a tiny yelp.

“May I?” He repeated, voice now merely a breath. “I promise I’ll explain myself.”

You only nodded, unsure of what exactly you were agreeing to, but dumbfounded and mute from shock. You watched as he put your glasses on, pulling you closer, and when that was done, he moved Garcia’s keyboard.

“Spencer—” You tried again.

“You know, you’re the only one besides J.J. to not call me Reid all the time?”

You fell mute again, as he lifted you up like a doll, placing your left, then right, leg on each respective shoulder.

“R-Reid,” you whimpered.

“Are you scared? Please don’t be. Do you want to know why you’re my problem?”

Unconsciously, you bit your lip. “There’s cameras in here,” you replied lamely. “Garcia will—”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t care?”

“I’ll disinfect everything. Please don’t worry,” he replied. Pleaded. And as you stared into those big, brown, mournful eyes, you realised two things:

One. You didn’t have an answer to that. You only knew that you felt the coppery desire becoming a hot chill as he spoke. He had slid your panties off, down your legs, as you’d questioned him.

Two. You knew you were okay with being both the solution and the problem in his life. Now he was kissing the bridge of your nose, your lips. His hot gum was in your mouth. He was sharing his fever.

“W-Why?”

“I have to warn you; you’re my problem because… my last two relationships? Both girls ended up dead.”

Before you could formulate an answer, he lowered his head as if in repentance, falling to his knees in front of you. He confessed with his tongue, and as he spoke sin, you tasted cinnamon.

[eksvaized]

I'm currently taking a break from writing and editing. So, I thought I'd let you in on the apps and sites that have been my go-to for writing, and give you a quick run-down on how I make the most of them. Everything I use is free 'cause you know, college student budget. You might already know about most of the stuff I'm gonna talk about. However, if you are just starting out and unfamiliar with these apps and sites, I hope you'll find this information useful.

Got any other recommendations? Please let me know!

This tool is my go-to-tool I use once I finish writing and start editing. It identifies surface errors like overlooked typos, punctuation errors, and grammar issues; with a single click, you can fix all these issues instantly.

It also includes an integrated thesaurus that I use when I need to quickly find synonyms for a word.

There are two versions available: free and premium. I use the free version, which, in my opinion, performs just as well. The only minor drawback is that when you run a report, it only checks the first 500 words. This might require some effort to copy and paste the texts, but I promise you, it's absolutely worth it.

Here are all the reports it can generate:

You also have the option to download this instead of using the web version if you prefer.

As a non-native English speaker, I occasionally find myself struggling with the constructions of simple sentences; when I read them, I feel that it doesn’t sound quite right for me, and I know I want to change it. In such cases, I use this tool.

However, I would not recommend using it to paraphrase extensive texts.

There's both a free and premium version available. Personally, I stick with the free version.

I use this app for writing. It offers many functionalities, but what I really appreciate is the ability to create multiple pages within pages. This feature eliminates the need to open numerous files as it organizes everything in one place:

However, my favourite feature is ‘Synced block’ because it allows me to sync content across different pages. This is particularly useful when I'm writing and want to keep my notes visible, ensuring that I don't forget any minor details:

The online version is free.