#ANON I HATE YOU YOU GAVE ME INSPIRATION TO WRITE AND I HAVE SO MANY WIPS ALREADY

[beanghostprincess]

Sanuso with vampire Sanji not only has "I'll do what you can't do and you do what I can't do", but also "I'll feed you and you feed me"

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod-

I love this. So much.

So I am not the biggest fan of writing Vampires AUs. I LOVE reading them but I don't think it's my style of writing?? So I never do. But-- But THIS??? Changing my life, honestly. Considering things. Thinking thoughts.

And it's extremely easy to make a plot for this!!!!!! The Vinsmokes are a family of vampires but Sanji is the only human thanks to Sora. Etc etc etc. Wano happens. Don't ask me WHAT happens but SOMETHING happens and Sanji starts slowly turning into a vampire. Worst time of his life for a variety of reasons (from not feeling human to being scared of hurting others and also all the bad things that come with being a vampire. Except for the sun thing because. Well. I want him to be able to be under the sun. Let's just say he's a mix between Vampire and Human).

It'd be so good to see Sanji starving because he refuses to drink blood and he wants to hide this from the rest of the crew. But Usopp inevitably finds out, of course, and he offers his blood to Sanji. And I am. Losing it because now I want to write a super homoerotic bloody scene in which Sanji is refusing to drink Usopp's blood because he doesn't trust himself but Usopp won't stop walking closer and closer to him saying that if he doesn't trust himself it's fine because he trusts him instead... And he says the whole "You cook for us all the time, so it's just fair. You feed me, and I'll feed you. Now drink before you are the first vampire to die out of stubbornness" thing.

I mean, vampires are like. Inherently romantic and erotic so this is just. Woah. Having a million thoughts. I need a MOMENT.

Also??????? Usopp being THE Vampire Hunter™ of the crew??? Imagine Thriller Bark Usopp x Vampire Sanji I am LOSING IT. Brain isn't braining. Maybe I die.

Putting aside the obvious nasty emotional bloody sex these two would have, Usopp would be,, So sweet to Sanji. Because he absolutely hates his situation and he isn't sure if he is ready to tell the others yet. Usopp is always offering him his blood and staying with him when he can't sleep and-- Adding little bat Sanji here??? Can Sanji turn into a bat??? Please yes yes. I want little bat Sanji to be the cutest thing and Usopp just. Loving him. His little bat boyfriend 😭 Usopp knows so many fun facts about bats while Sanji is like. So angry at first bc he has to learn how to change back and fly KJEJFJEFEKDJFNWLEKFNW They're so silly.

When Sanji doesn't feel human Usopp is always there to remind him that he is still himself after all. And Sanji is always scared of hurting him but also-- Have you considered Sanji only turning into a bat bc Usopp is even clingier with him then and he gets pats from his boyfriend? And he's always being so gentle with him too.

They mean the world to me!!!!!!!!!!! Vampire AUs my beloved!!!!!!!

[deathbxnny]

Hiya! Can I request Lynette, Kaeya, and Ayaka with a sibling!reader who sleep talks in their sleep?

I was inspired by my sibling who sleep talks the most random stuff in their sleep. We both shared a room together when we were younger, so I had heard some of the stuff they say. While my sibling never said if i myself sleep talk but apparently my assigned roommate yesterday told me they possibly? heard me sleep talk.. I wonder if it's genetic?

context:

Write however you want but please make what reader say either funny ("seelies taste like mist flower core") or heartwarming ("I'm so glad we're siblings -insert chosen character-")

Hope you have a lovely day/night!

-Flower Anon 🌸

Genshin characters with a sibling that talks in their sleep. | Kaeya, Ayaka, Lynette x Gn!Reader

Hello Flower Anon!! Thank you for your great request, I had a lot of fun writing this!<33

Content: Sibling reader, platonic relationships, unserious, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》KAEYA

Said man was used to your rather odd sleeping habits since you were children in the dawn winery. Sleep talking was the norm for you, and whilst it usually was only a couple of words, it was still hilarious every time. This time, however, you actually spoke in whole sentences in your sleep during a sleepover at his humble home.

"... I want to eat snow so I can grow taller..." You whispered in the dead of night whilst he was busy completing the last of his paperwork. His head tilted to you in confusion, your back turned to him as you spoke. Were you asleep? He was unsure. "Hm? Why's that?" "Milk... makes you taller... and snow is white... so it's milk." Ah, you were definitely asleep. And quite responsive at that! Snorting, he put down his pen and crossed his arms, body leaning back in absolute amusement. "Oh? I didn't know that." "Many don't... no one can know this secret..." "I see, who told you about it though?" "... The snowmen. They are watching."

Kaeya raised a brow at the ominous message yet it took everything in him not to burst into laughter. You certainly wouldn't remember saying any of that in the morning... but he would for sure.

》Lynette

"If I drank all the sea water in Fountaine, would the fish float in place?" Silence overtook the bedroom you shared with your sister, who was very much unamused. She just wanted to sleep, and yet, your mind didn't let her even in your sleep. Deciding to ignore you, she pulled the blankets over her head and prayed you'd stop soon. But alas, you still had a lot more to share. "I think they will, because they can actually fly and are lying to us..." More silence, and the girl had to realise that you were in a better mood than usual. It wasn't abnormal for you to talk in your sleep but this was getting ridiculous!

Taking a deep breath, she lowered her blankets and gave your sleeping form an unimpressed glance. "Stay quiet and go to sleep properly." She muttered, but you clearly didn't seem to hate her properly in your dreams. "And you know what...? If the fish can fly... then Freminet can probably fly, too... oh my god, he can-" You were shaken from your deep sleep by a door slamming shut, as your sister fast walked down to another room with her blankets in hand.

You had the nerve to ask her why she left in the morning, clearly not remembering what happened, but she simply ignored you as a response with a tired huff.

》AYAKA

The one time you and Ayaka were sleeping in the same room, it definitely took her by surprise to see you sleep talking. It was certainly not common in the family. But what worried her the most were your ominous words. "What-" "-The birds... are walking towards us." You hummed into the darkness of the room, making your sister sit up in confusion. Had she accidentally left the door to the outside open? No way... she would've noticed the strong wind seeping in. She couldn't make out your form in the dimness of the room and therefore assumed that you were awake at first. "Uhm... where are they?" "They are on my head now, all three of them... and they can sing... but they are also red, so they shouldn't be able to."

Blinking, Ayaka slowly turned to your form next to her and out a hand on your shoulder carefully. Leaning forward, she could only barely see your closed eyes, which confirmed that you were indeed sleeping. Ah, so that was it... you were somehow sleep talking? "Oh... well, tell them you have to sleep." "Okay..." With a small hiccup, you relaxed back into a deep sleep, and the silence was deafening.

She definitely brought it up to an awfully amused Ayato the next morning, who reassured that this was normal for you. Expect to be teased about it, too.

[la-lolita]

Hello, this is Lolita, formerly known as Aphrodites-letters, and (sighs) strawberrymilkmami. It’s been a few years since I left, and I am back to properly speak up for myself about the drama that happened between Cupid (now going by Devosin) and I. I will be referring to Devosin as Cupid, however because that’s the name they used to go by during this drama. In this post, I will take accountability for my actions, however I will also explain some parts of the story that I should’ve exposed a long time ago. 

Why now you may ask? Because I feel so much better now. I have matured and up to this day, what has happened still affects me a lot mentally. People may say this is old, or tell me to move on. You can’t move on when there are people out there still thinking you’re a complete bastard not knowing your true reasonings or thinking you’re just finding excuses— its been years, there’s no point in lying, im not even in the fandom anymore, what do I gain lying? You could say I “deserved” it and that “that’s what I get for being jealous” etc. Yet those are simply accusations and assumptions people made, you can’t take people’s/make assumptions and think it’s the truth.

I have finally developed the courage to speak about this topic again and explain properly my side of the story.

—

Faulty Link

I want to clear up the biggest misunderstanding. I never sent anyone anon hate and I can prove it.

Pinpix has stated that she “can track an anon's identity” by using this link. I found this fact very interesting considering it’s been outdated for years at the time Pinpix did this ‘callout.’ 

Pinpix gave out false information about me, then Cupid reblogged it without checking the sources. Not only Cupid, but many of my former mutuals did so without checking the sources. This link hasn’t been working since 2017, yet they managed to ‘track’ my IP in 2023. Anyone is welcome to check the tracking link themselves to see even more comments proving that it no longer works. 

I’d like to mention Cupid had stated this before. 

I’ve never been in Cupid’s server before. So, I clearly couldn’t have been the one sent the hate. With all these facts coming to light, I’d like this to be a lesson to everyone to not jump on hate trains without checking what the ‘proof’ is.

—

Anon Hate

To everyone affected by the anon hate, I’m really truly sorry you’ve had such rude and demeaning people in your inbox. I believe anon hate is such a low act to do and I understand it affected you immensely. 

However, I want everyone to understand that I have never sent anon hate and will never in the future.  —

Copying

Not only did Pinpix accuse me of sending anon hate, they also made some claims about me copying Cupid (most of the post was them talking about this). I’d like to address these.

I’ve never copied anyone. A lot of what I did was take inspiration from trends at that time. Just because some of my posts came after Cupid doesn’t mean I copied her. I did things that were popular at that time, not things that Cupid did. If Cupid did popular things too, cool! But please don’t come after me for also following trends. Fade outs and social media themes were popular then, and many of former mutuals as well as people from other fandoms had similar themes.

First thing out of the way, Cupids are from Roman mythology and Aphrodite is from Greek mythology, so no I didn’t see Cupid’s url and decided to steal it lol, that is so silly. She and I were friends back then and wanted to match names. I also fail to see how our themes and writing styles are similar. To my knowledge, Cupid went for regal themes, while I stuck to coquette, there was a time where I did more simple clean themes because again- it was trending, especially in blogs from big Fandoms such as Genshin. Just because we both used shades of pink doesn’t mean it was plagiarism. 

I’ve never deleted anything off my page after this incident, so I think you’re misremembering. 

My writing format has changed as a progress of maturing. Personal observations are not proof. Not to mention my writings are still up, so if you had proof that our fics are similar, you could have proved it. You have not. 

This says a lot. 

—

Vent

I will take accountability for my venting. I did vent personal things and I regret that immensely. I’m sorry to anyone affected by them. However, please understand I was going through a difficult situation both online and irl, and as an immature 13 year old kid, I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t have the help I needed, I didn’t know what to do to make myself feel better. Sadly, I chose a path that not only didn’t help me, but also harmed the people around me. I regret it, and if I could I would have taken a few months offline.

None of my vents named or attacked anyone. If you made correlations from my vents to people, that is your assumption. These are all subjective opinions made by you without any proof. 

Some of my posts were indeed targeted towards Cupid, I wasn’t healed from the first drama we had and seeing them interact with my friends hurt me really bad. I just wanted the whole drama out of my life, seeing Cupid on my dashboard didn’t help me forget at all. I had blocked her, however when she interacted with my mutuals, I saw her on my page. However, the majority of my vents were from real life issues.  —

Sign Out

First and foremost, I’m sorry to anyone hurt by actions caused by me. However, the anon hate, the spam into former mutuals’ inboxes, accused plagiarism and this supposed obsession isn’t me. You’ve crafted this whole story based on assumptions and false proof, and I don’t want to take the hate in my inbox anymore. It’s been years and I’m not sure why people are still so obsessed with this situation.

Though this section confuses me, since when you said I did the ‘same thing,’ it implies that Cupid has also neglected to credit the art they used.

I have used art without credits only if I couldn’t find the original source. I found a lot of my inspiration on Pinterest, so when I found the source, I could credit them. However, sometimes I couldn’t find it, and wouldn’t have anything to cite. I now know that I should have looked harder or have used another image for my blog, however I was not as mature then. In my mind, I had looked for the source and couldn't find it. Going forward in any future fandoms I join to make content, I will cite everything I can.

As a final message, don’t harass people online, especially if you don’t do your research on the topic or know the full story of both people. In my case I was anxious. I didn’t know what to do or say, I was panicked and was unable to collect my thoughts and come with a proper response. Now, I hope this was enough to explain my side of the story and clear up some things said about me.

Thank you for listening and have a good day.

[blairdii]

People have said the same disgusting things about Carlos and supposed fans of his seemingly like to see him suffer because they think he looks beautiful when he’s sad or unhappy. I remember one anon who said she’s torn as his fan because she wants him to do well, but she also finds him narratively compelling when he’s suffering. Excuse me? He’s a real person, not a paper doll to rpf with. I actually sent in an anon saying it was disgraceful that people are actively enjoying someone else’s real life unhappiness for the sake of “narrative.” The blog owner gave a snarky response telling me, “have you seen how popular the whump tag on ao3 is? Lots of people enjoy this.”

there's nothing i hate more than when they use the stupid excuse of 'a lot of people like it', as if something being popular makes it automatically acceptable?

they are genuinely sadistic, i don't even care if they find it offensive because i'm being truthful. i get that rpf is fiction, but leave it as that. don't start dragging real life issues into it, and genuinely start wanting them to be miserable all for the sake of your fanfic satisfaction/inspiration. i love angst to heaven and back, don't get me wrong, but i know there are boundaries and limits; angst as a fictional genre is what i love most, but i never extend that enjoyment to the wellbeing of real people.

i realised this most during the aftermath of the brazil gp; so many people were writing norstappen (some were really good and respectful and others... spoke for themselves) but i just couldn't because i know how bad lando was having it, and i wasn't comfortable indulging to that extent.

[ganeshpnf]

Hiii! What do you think about the movie cast and show cast? Which one do you love more if you have to compare?

Hi anon! And...wow. I dont talk about this much but if I would, I need to make some warnings first. My blog is not open for talking bad, hating for any actors. Anyone who sees this post are free to share their own thoughts, whatever you agree with me or not. But please, be respectful, to all actors and to people say their own personal thoughts. And remember, whatever you like it or not, they are still in characters of the movie and show universe. You have to show your respect. Bad writing, bad plot, inaccuracy is never the actors' fault, they are just doing their jobs. So please, be respectful. Dont forget that people can have opinions, unless they talk bad to any actor, it should be respected. You are all free. I also gotta say that I love every single actor, for the movie and the show, they are all amazing :) But if I had to compare their acting or how I see them most of the time, long post so lets goo!

1- Logan(movie Percy) and Walker(show Percy)

Both of the actors are really talented. Walker is known with his personality and I agree, during interviews and his daily life. But personally, I dont think the same in the show. I know, bad writing, but still. Logan is exactly what I see hoo Percy, his humor and his iconic lines. While Walker also threw some good Percy sass, I would still have to pick Logan. He is too iconic for me.

2-Alexandra(movie Annabeth) and Leah(show Annabeth)

First, kudos to the both actors since they got so many hate and still stayed so strong. Both of them inspired so many things in me, I am so so proud of both of them.

Now, this is hard because both of these woman also had a very big problem with bad bad bad bad writing. Their characters were butchered up and it was not their fault. Both of their acting was perfect. But, Alexandra did a bit better in my eyes with her acting. While I adore Leah, she seemed a bit flat to me. I believe with time, she would get better, but for now, I'll have to pick Alexandra.

3- Brandon(movie Grover) and Aryan(show Grover)

I know this is not Brandon's fault but making Grover with full of sexual jokes was not my favourite thing. He is hilarious to watch, yes. But part of his character angered me. I think Aryan did better in this, he would do even better. His grover made more sense in me, so I will pick Aryan.

4-Leven(movie Clarisse) and Dior(show Clarisse)

This is so hard, because both of them were fantastic. I think I will make it tie. I had tiny "issues" with both, maybe some cringe moments but its mostly because of the writing. Other than that, I cant pick. Leven's attitude and Dior's that powerful scream, its a tie.

5-Jake(movie Luke) and Charlie(show Luke)

Charlie is an amazing actor, his Luke was written to be a bit more sympathic. If I have to talk about Luke, it would make a whole another long post, but Jake's Luke gave me much more Luke vibes. Not only because he is almost exactly with how I imagine him, but also with his attitude, funny remarks about his father which completely summed up his relationship with his father. So I have to pick Jake, he is way too iconic for me.

6-Pierce(movie Chiron) and Glynn(show Chiron)

Well, I know second movie changed the actor but Pierce is special to me because he is THE Chiron in my eyes. He looked exactly of what I imagined, he looked ancient with long hair and I adore it. Glynn's Chiron's acting was a bit soft in my eyes, I wish we got to see him organize the camp more, training the heros etc. Pierce's scene with him training the demigods, I adore it, so I go with Pierce.

7-Stanley(movie Mr.D) and Jason(show Mr.D)

Hmmm, I think I would choose Jason since his lines were a bit more iconic, he slayed with his acting. For Stanley's defense, we didnt see him much, but still I gotta choose, so Jason.

8- Uma(movie Medusa) and Jessica(show Medusa)

I think I already said here that how much I adore Uma's Medusa. I think cgi was a lot better, despite it being 2010. I didnt like Jessica's Medusa since it was too Ovid's story, I really do not like that version :( Uma's acting, snakes were better in my eyes so I choose her.

9-Sean(movie Zeus) and Lance(show Zeus)

First of all, rest in peace Lance :( I adored him in every single project, he was perfect. I first watched him in "Young Sheldon" and not to mention he slayed as his performance in Zeus. About Sean though, he is the Zeus I see most of the time, I love him, his power in the throne room scene, perfection, him threating Poseidon...I would go with Sean.

10- Kevin(movie Poseidon) and Toby(show Poseidon)

This is also so hard because I literally...cant choose? Like Kevin's first scene is just so powerful and gave me the Poseidon immediatly. But Toby...his scene with Sally, I just cant. Its a tie, sorry.

11- Steve(movie Hades) and Jay(show Hades)

Look, I love the actors but...I really dont see both of them as Hades in my eyes? One of them was too evil, other one was too silly. Like okay, I accept them as Hades, in other universes. But I cant compare them, so you can call it a tie.

12-Catherine(movie Sally) and Virgiana(show Sally)

I love Catherine, she is so close to what I see when I think of Sally. But Virgiana...She was just perfect. I had some issues of her character but thats an another topic. For now, I pick Virgiana.

I cant think of more of the main cast but I need a moment to talk about movie Athena because I think she is too underestimated. Like she is perfect, THE Athena. She looks exactly like her, she is just too dam sweet. I love her so so much.

This is it. Im no fan of both of this adaptations tbh, but actors are all so great and talented! My fav adaptation would always be musical, I would talk about it one day.

Please remember to be respectful, you are all free to share your own thoughts :)

[apprenticestanheight]

Good News - Chainshipping

Ooooookay!! This was born of an idea I had m o n t h s ago but then I tried to write it (I feel like it's one of the chainshipping fics I have here but I can't remember) and it went in a different direction and, as I usually tend to do, I gave it as close to a happy ending as I was willing and able.

This, however? nah. I haven't cried for a serious reason (this is very serious to me!!) in a good bit so. here we have this. To the anon who sent in a req for heavy chainshipping angst, the concept of this fic was brought back around into the handy dandy mental space because of you and I hope you like it!

Title was riffed from the song Good News by Julien Baker, by which this fic is not directly inspired (I listened to it while writing this fic,, at least the start) but might have a similar vibe to.

Fic type - this is straight out angst with maybe a cathartic and kind of hopeful end?? idk but I know that it's all angst until the last scene and even then, the angst is still present there.

Warnings - mentions of drugs and drug use (morphine is mentioned once in a hospital setting and weed is mentioned a lot), addiction is referenced (both in Gabrielas case and also in Adam talking about being borderline addicted to his pain meds and his weed dependency not being a dependency but more an addiction), and this is fairly time-jumpy bc every scene takes place at a slightly different time than the last, which is clarified! The second half is probably not that great in terms of proofreading and editing, this one is hot off the press (I finished it, went to type up the authors note, and rushed to post bc I want this out of my brain) and might not be super good bc I don't doubt that I've missed a few things.

The first thing that Adam registers when he wakes up is a white-hot, raging pain that starts in his shoulder and manages to radiate down his arm til it reaches the nerve endings in his fingers. The second thing he registers is the feeling of someones hand, holding tightly onto one of his own--not the one that's in pain, thank fuck--and the sound of their breathing, somehow both quick and laboured at the same time.

The third thing he registers is a tube shoved down his throat. The second he registers that, the anxiety sets in. He forces his hand out of the grasp of the person who's holding onto it and tries to grab at the tube like his life depends on it, because for a second, he feels like it does.

"Adam," a voice whispers. He blinks his eyes open, turns in the direction of the voice, but it takes a few seconds for the image to blur into focus. "Adam--it's a breathing tube, keeping your lungs from collapsing. Relax, honey."

He stills when he realizes who it is. It's his mother, who he hasn't seen in almost a decade.

He glares at her for a second, but then he hears the resoundingly soft click! of a button, and five minutes later, a glorious-adjacent high sets in. Adam figures out as the haze takes him over that a morphine button is somewhere near his bed, is grateful for it despite the lingering confusion.

"Rest up," she says. "I'll be here until you fall asleep, okay? And I promise not to bug you after. I just heard you'd been found and I needed to see that for myself."

Adam lets sleep take him over--he's pretty much confined to his bed, and while he hates it, he knows he has no other choice, really, and the exhaustion creeps up on him before he can even register it.

--

A few long weeks go by, and by the time he's discharged from the hospital and complete with the necessary physical therapy to rehabilitate his arm and make sure his shoulder is working right, it's the very beginning of December.

Part of him wonders where Lawrence is--did he make it out? Was cutting his foot off worth it in the end? They're things he wonders about late at night, when the insomnia takes over and he resists the urge to climb out onto his fire escape and smoke as many joints as he can in order to sleep without fucking up his liver.

He doesn't go to therapy right out the gate, doesn't even think to do it for those first few weeks, when his doctor is checking in on him every single morning when their shift starts and every evening when it ends, when a psychiatrist comes in once every few days and tries to help him process the memories that he'd taken to vehemently avoiding.

But then, on the walk home from one of Scotts concerts, he sees an ad posting for a Jigsaw support group. It's the next day, runs from seven to nine, and the church basement it's held in is only five minutes down the road from his apartment.

He decides he'll go, part of him gunning for the mere thought of seeing Lawrence--a Jigsaw support group would be exactly the kind of place Lawrence would go after experiencing something so traumatic as the goings on of that bathroom. It's the one surefire spot Adam is betting on, but he tries to stop himself.

He doesn't know what's happened to Lawrence, not really. Lawrence hasn't reached out and Adam has made no effort to do the same for fear of rejection. He figures he could ask around at the support group, holds onto the off chance that someone there knows him or at least knows what happened, somehow.

As he gets undressed, opting to wear a pair of sweatpants and a basic black shirt, he knows that he, realistically, has no valid reason to speculate on the state of Lawrences well being, if there even is a well being upon which to speculate. If he wants to hear from Lawrence--which he does, more than anything--then he can do either of two things. He can wait for Lawrence to reach out, or he can try to do it himself.

He goes to sleep, telling himself he'll look through the phone book before he goes to work tomorrow.

--

Looking through the phone book doesn't yield much--it yields a number with a voicemail that hasn't been updated since the mid-nineties, at least, which is enough to make him laugh depressedly because mid-nineties Lawrence is not the Lawrence he knew, but the one that had existed about five years beforehand.

The support group meeting is, surprisingly, decent. He sits, for two hours, in a room full of people who understand what he's gone through. He shares his own story for the first time, breathes himself through the roughened edges and the sharp points that threaten to stab him in the chest when he thinks about it.

Talking about it, he realizes, is good for him, like the psychiatrist had said it might turn out to be. He goes home feeling the full weight of that day, which is something that he hates more than he hates himself, but he also feels a little vindicated.

The next two meetings go like that as well--Adam talks, warms up a bit slower than butter left on the counter to thaw after having spent many-a-week at the bottom of a large-capacity freezer.

At the end of December, the day after Christmas, it's the groups last meeting of the year and the first with a newcomer since Adam came along at the beginning of the month.

The newbie sits next to him, and he doesn't really bother to notice them, figures he'll pay more attention when they speak a little bit and focuses instead on sipping his coffee, focuses loosely on the delight he feels at the thought of the support groups carrot muffins that they bring out for people to eat at around 8:30, at which point the group kind of disperses to talk amongst themselves.

The instructor is a guy named Paul, and he's 35 and balding. He claims to be one of Jigsaws first survivors, having been tested around '99. Adam doesn't really believe it--Jigsaws first recorded victim would've been around early 2000, if a little bit later into that year, but he digresses. If someone or multiple someones want to pretend to be his victims, Jigsaw and his followers will take matters into their own hands eventually, be it in the name of revenge or some twisted kind of retribution.

He notices the newbie, and like he did when Adam was new, he singles her out in a way that she probably won't realize was him doing so until later, just like Adam had that first meeting.

"My name is Gabriela," she says. "I'm from Mexico. I came to New Jersey to get away from my life there--I couldn't take it."

The admission makes Paul smile softly, nod like he understands even though Adam knows, from his New Yorkian accent, that it's the farthest he's travelled between there and Jersey.

"And we're all here to support you through your troubles," he says. "Why were you tested?"

"I'd rather not--" Gabriela pauses. Adam looks at her, studies her, and sees a few scars lining her face. "I was cruel to him. I was part of the Pederson project and struggled with an addiction. He tested me and my friends at the beginning of October. Most of them died."

"The Pederson project?" Paul asks. "Whats that?"

"Something--" tears well up in her eyes, and Adam, on impulse, reaches a hand out and grabs hers. She looks at him then, stark brown eyes meeting his own. Adam has a thought that she looks like a deer in headlights. "I--I was desperate for money. I did what I thought I had to do, and then he made me pay the price."

"I lost someone too, I think," Adam laughs. "My trap mate. His name was Lawrence, and I can't figure out if he's alive or not. I watched him cut off his foot."

Gabriela smiles. Adam glances at Paul, briefly, and shrugs.

"Maybe she won't be as quick to open up as I was," he says. "Give her time."

Paul nods once, and their interactions end. Gabriela keeps a hold on Adams hand and Adam lets her, remembering what it was like in those first couple of weeks after--hell, he's still technically in that rough spot, but it's at least a little better than it was, even if it's still shit.

Yeah, Adam can't really take showers or baths yet, and yeah, that means he's had to use strawberry scented make up wipes to keep himself smelling not-rancid, and dry shampoo to keep his hair from being a greasy mop on his head, but it's better.

His shoulder hurts all the time, but it's not the pain he woke up with that first day. Every nightmare is worse than the last, but at least he's getting two hours of sleep a night now instead of a maximum of 30 minutes. He has to go against himself, go against his natural sense of pessimism and he has to choose optimism or he won't be able to keep going.

Optimism, taking the wins where he can, is what has kept him going for the past ten weeks. It kept him sane when he was trapped in the dark, and it's kept him sane ever since.

When the meeting ends, Gabriela stays close, which is something she's trying to be covert about but Adam notices. He doesn't let it irritate him as he gets more coffee, as he eats his carrot muffin and talks to Amanda Young, a girl who'd been in a trap only a few weeks before he had. He stays behind to help Paul and the others stack up their chairs and sweep the floor just in case, and Gabriela winds up staying.

She finally gets the nerve to talk to him about two seconds after he's left the church basement, has gone to sit in the pews that are empty of anyone. He hates churches, normally, but this one is oddly comforting when it's either nearly or totally empty. It's quiet in the same way the world is after snow has fallen, which is a quiet Adam has long appreciated.

"How do you deal with it?" she asks. She's sitting in the pew behind him, her hood tucked over her head to cover her hair. "I've been trying to since the start of October, when it happened, and I just--I don't know how."

"Well, first off, Jersey was about the worst place you could've wound up in," Adam laughs a little. "Most of his crimes take place in and around the general area of Jersey, but he's not the type to test people twice, as far as I know, so don't let my assholery get to you too much about that. Secondly, I'd probably argue I'm not much better than you. I was addicted to nicotine when I went in, and I've come out with something a bit worse for my liver and my lungs both."

It makes Gabriela laugh. "I'm at the hospital a lot for skin grafts," she says. "I got insurance, somehow, so I'm not drowning in debt, but I had to tell them I couldn't have any pain medication for after. I even thought anaesthesia was risky for some time."

"I had to call and get my medical bills reduced to a point where I could pay them off," Adam says. "I work in a bookstore now, and I have insurance from them as of the new year. It'll cover my meds, which I'm grateful for. We got some pretty short sticks in the game of life, but we didn't get the shortest ones."

"You don't seem like an optimistic person," Gabriela says. "You don't look like one, I mean."

"I'm not, usually," Adam says. "But until I hear that my trap mate is dead, I'm gonna choose to be optimistic because he would want me to be, dead or alive. Until I have proof that he's gone, I'm going to keep my optimism lined up with the idea that he's alive at the forefront of it's existence."

"What if he's not?" Gabriela asks. "What after that?"

"Then--fuck, I don't know. I become pessimistic and nihilistic, I guess? Jigsaw tests me again, maybe, if it gets that bad. I think, if he does, I'll fail on purpose that time. He'd better make damn sure that it's fucking fair that time around, though--no leaving the key to my chained up foot in the full fucking bathtub again, or I'll survive it just to spite the bastard."

Gabriela laughs again. Adam gets up and walks home, back to his sad little apartment.

He has to roll and smoke two over-the-top joints just to not spiral, conks right the fuck out at 9:45 on the dot.

--

It's the middle of January when Adam gets something in his mailbox. He grabs it along with the newspaper and doesn't really check the labelling on either, too caught up in the idea of checking his voicemails after remembering he has a landline that he hasn't used in five months, since he'd gotten a cheap Motorola and used that to make most of his calls.

So, he drops the mail on his kitchen counter top, grabs the landline and checks his voicemails.

The first couple are from his mother, one of which was back around when he was in the trap--sent a few days before, one he could halfheartedly remember giving a listen to before he was taken. His mother telling him his father wasn't angry anymore, like that would even begin to make up for a decades worth of anger from Adams childhood up until when he left.

It's the most recent one that gets his attention whip-quick. "Hi, Adam," it's Lawrences voice--not mid-nineties Lawrence, either. Lawrence from that day or at least a week or two after, the one Adam knows.

"I don't know if you were expecting this call, or if you'll even pay any mind to this voicemail, but I found your name in the phone book, and I heard you'd been rescued, and I just--I needed to call, okay? You don't have to understand, that's fine, but I just wanted to make sure you understood how sorry I am. I'm sorry to have left you to die like that, and I can't even begin to think about all of the ways you've been affected in the aftermath without getting anxious palpitations. I should've found a way to save you, and I'll regret not having done so for the rest of my life, okay? I just wanted to make sure you knew that I regretted it, and to make sure you understand that if I could go back and do it differently, I would do so in a millisecond without a moments hesitation."

Adam is so relieved to hear his voice that he almost cries--Lawrences voice is rough on the edges, ooey-gooey and warm at the centre, and it almost does him in completely.

"In another universe, I go ahead and visit you instead of leaving you a voicemail like a damn coward, but that's not this universe, and I'm sorry for it. You don't need to call me back, all right? I just needed to call and make sure I said my peace."

The voicemail beeps and ends and Adam hangs up the phone, fights the urge to lose his mind a little but keeps himself in check just long enough to check his mail, read the letter addressed to him.

It, shockingly, is from Alison, Lawrences wife.

I had a PI locate your address, it reads. He's in the hospital--his leg got infected and it spread like wildfire. I'd come and see him before the month was out if I were you, but if I'm being honest, I really don't think he'll make it more than another week. Come as soon as you can, to give him some peace of mind. He's staying at Saint Mercy-East, and the receptionist has been told to let you in when you come around.

Alison Baker (formerly Gordon)

Adam gives in. He lets himself cry until he can't, knows that he'll have to call into work just to see Lawrence. He has to do it. Lawrence is alive, if just barely, and he needs to see him in person one last time before the only rendition of Lawrence that he can see is a headstone.

--

Witnessing a person in palliative care is a lot more nerve-wracking than Adam first expects. Lawrence is barely awake, occasionally shifting in his hospital bed, and his skin looks grey and sullen. His breathing is laboured and a little loud, and when Adam looks at him, he feels himself cracking just a little. Adams heart breaks as he sits in the plastic chair to Lawrences left, grabs his hand and holds onto it as tightly as he thinks he can handle without breaking down.

"Hey," he whispers. "I just wanted to come down--Allison told me where you were staying, what had happened with your leg, and I figured I'd come and see you for at least half an hour."

Lawrence stills.

"I'm just gonna talk for a bit, okay?" Adam laughs at himself. "I've never done anything like this before, so I don't really know what to do."

Lawrence looks at him. His blue eyes are dull and gray and so sorrowful that it damn near kills Adam from the inside out. He realizes that Lawrence probably knows he's not got long left, if his infection has left him that lucid. Lawrence Gordon, someone who used to be sarcastic and quippy and so full of life, Adam heartbreakingly realizes, very likely knows he's dying.

"You seemed to want me to be okay in the voicemail you left," Adam says. "I just--I want you to know that I am. I'm on meds because of chronic shoulder pain and I deal with my earned amount of PTSD stuff, but I'm okay. I work in that cute little bookstore across the way from the Aldi near the heart of the city, the one that looks real small on the outside but inside is actually kind of huge? It's called Romeros, and I've got insurance and PTO and all of that shit."

Lawrence smiles gently. Adam keeps going.

"I take photos of stray cats pretty much exclusively now," he says. "And I go to a support group to help me deal with the PTSD stuff. If you've been worried, you don't need to be anymore. I'm on the path to learning how to be okay, and it was just really important to me for you to know that. I don't want to lose you when it feels like I've just gotten you back, but this is probably gonna be the only time I visit. I love you, dude."

Adam squeezes Lawrences hand just a bit tighter.

He stays with Lawrence from the beginning of visiting hours til Lawrences heart gives out near their end. Adam watches, in a panic, as the doctors go about protocol for a DNR.

In the end, Adam is still in the room when a nurse says the unthinkable.

"Time of death: 18:04 PM, January 15th."

And then, just like that, Adam has to face a reality he's spent the last several months not wanting to confront, hating the very idea of.

Lawrence Gordon is dead. He's gone, and there's nothing Adam can do about it.

--

Adam can't pull himself together enough to go to the funeral. He receives an invite in the mail initially, then a copy of Lawrences obituary and the address to where he's been buried a few weeks later.

Grief, he finds, is an ugly little thing. It makes him a bit more dependent on the weed than normal, closes him off at the support group and makes him volatile on his worst nights because he hates it. He hates that he has to grieve at all, really.

Lawrence had managed to survive that bathroom. He'd mustered up the strength to cut his own foot off, and God repaid him with an infection of what remained of that leg spreading through his body and killing him? He'd survived cutting off his own foot just to die four months later? That feels like bullshit to Adam, and he hates it.

Eventually, when the anger isn't all consuming, he leaves his apartment. He stops and buys a few flowers from a convenience store, and then he goes and visits Lawrences grave.

LAWRENCE GORDON

LOVING HUSBAND, FATHER, AND SON

He sets the flowers down, reads the lettering engraved on the stone.

"I've been dealing with a lot since you passed," Adam says. He sits down in front of the head stone, careful in the motions. He runs his hands over a newly buzzed head, the hair having grown out past it's due and the cheapest option having been to take a pair of clippers to it instead of getting it cut. "Uh--I just kind of wanted to stop by for a second. I don't know if I'll ever do this again, but I kind of thought I owed it to you a little bit."

Jersey is riding out the coattails of winter now, the grass dotted with snow, but Adam doesn't really care. It's sunny out and there's an icy breeze to go with it, but it's a nice day, everything else considered.

"I've been closed off from it all--I hate thinking about you right now because your death feels like bullshit," Adam laughs. "You survived everything from that day, just as well as I did, and yet you're dead from an infection in your stump that'd radiated through the rest of your body before you could stop it, and I'm still alive. You're dead and in the ground and I'm alive and borderline addicted to the pain meds I use for my shoulder and so dependent on weed that it's long teetered past a dependency. It feels unfair."

If anyone, Lawrence should be the one who got to stay alive.

"Up until you died, after the support group was done, I'd leave the church basement and go into the church itself. I'd always sit in an empty pew and just watch," he says. "They had a candle vigil at the front, and sometimes survivors who'd gone to the support group would light candles for their trap mates who hadn't made it. I have a friend, Gabriela, who lights candles after every meeting. She whispers their names, too. Valentina. Mateo. She even lights one for the only other not-jackass survivor, named Diego."

He feels really dumb. Like--the dumbest he's ever felt dumb, but he just keeps talking.

"I don't know if I'll ever do it, but I think someday I might. Alison hates you, even though she was kind to you in your last days, and both of your parents are gone, so it kind of feels like I'm the only person who knew you that can remember you without feeling disdain. If I light one of those stupid little tea candles, you'd better show me a fuckin' sign, even though I don't believe in that shit. I love you, Lawrence, but I'm not going to risk burning my finger on a Dollar Tree match if you don't make it worth it."

He laughs at himself, shakes his head. "I'm going to go to a meeting," he says as he gets up. "Maybe open up a little bit. Have fun doing whatever it is your doing on the other side of this God awful, relentless mortal coil."

--

Adam doesn't open up in support group that day--the wounds are still too fresh to bear, and he doesn't think he'll be able to talk about Lawrence for another very long while, but at least he admits it to himself.

He follows Gabriela to the vigil that night, though. She has an arm around his waist, holds onto him like she's scared he's going to fall apart. He's a bit scared of falling apart, too, if he's honest, so he just lets her.

She lights a match, goes about lighting the candles one by one. Valentina. Mateo. Diego.

She blows the match out, passes Adam the matchbox.

He takes it, strikes the match alight with the sandpaper on the side, and picks the candle closest to his right.

"Lawrence," he says gently as he lights it.

It doesn't feel like closure--not exactly, anyway--and he's sure nothing ever will. He knows that he'll feel pain every time he thinks of Lawrence for the next while, at least, but he has to learn to be okay with that or the pain will never go away.

That match, that candle? He knows they're just the first steps and that he has a long way to go, but he's fine with that. His grief and everything that's come of it can take as long as they need, he decides. He'll give himself a little bit of grace and allow at least that.

[platoapproved]

Where did you get the inspiration for lestat in “even the iron still fears the rot”?

Specifically ch 1/3: “He muddled through all on his own. He let his body be his guide, taking note of every instinct and working back from there.”/“But he bore it. What other choice did he have?”/“Lestat was tired of memory and suffering; it was not like him to wallow. He had always before found some way to wrench happiness from the unfeeling world. He was ready to laugh again, to frolic, to rejoice.”/“Lestat did not often dwell on his own poor choices. He did what he believed was best in the moment—often without a great deal of forethought—and dealt with the consequences, whatever they might be. An easy philosophy to champion when the punishment landed on him alone.”/“Could he have prevented this, if he had just been honest?”/“What a fool he’d been.”/“Never again would he play Cinderella’s stepsister, lopping off parts of himself to fit someone else’s impossibly small slipper.”/“He was going to suck every last drop of happiness from the world, and damn anyone who tried to stop him.”

Some of these feel obvious, but i would still love to hear your process of writing!

GOSH this is very flattering, anon! I will do my best to answer thoroughly, though with many of these I'm not really drawing on specific canon moments...

“He muddled through all on his own. He let his body be his guide, taking note of every instinct and working back from there.”

A lot of what I wanted to do in this fic is kind of explore Lestat's first days as a vampire in a way that marries what he described in the TV adaptation and what is there in The Vampire Lestat. In the book, Magnus gives at least a few instructions before his suicide; in the show Lestat says he didn't tell him about vampire physiology and gave him 'no rules, no counsel'. So I thought, if the latter is true, how did Lestat figure out how to survive in those first few days? He would've had hints from observing Magnus - drinking blood, hunting at night etc. - but the rest he would just need to figure out on the fly. Lack of education is a really big and sensitive topic in Lestat's life, and that applies to surviving as a vampire as much as it does to reading.

“But he bore it. What other choice did he have?”

Another thing I wanted to TRY to show was how Lestat becomes the person we see him being in season 1 of the show. Like, a trajectory from the rather sweet generous naive human guy he is early in TVL to the jaded, guarded, selfish, hedonistic, human-hating sadist he is in New Orleans. He tells Louis and Claudia that he didn't want to be a vampire or feed on people, that he was repulsed by it early on. So this is showing him at that stage, still seeing his human victims as people and horrified to take their lives, in a way that mirrors Louis later on. This is the starting point, to give contrast when his opinions start to change.

“Lestat was tired of memory and suffering; it was not like him to wallow. He had always before found some way to wrench happiness from the unfeeling world. He was ready to laugh again, to frolic, to rejoice.”

IWTV is so fascinating to me in part because it shows how different people react to trauma in radically different ways. At this point, Lestat is in such a bad place, but his way of handling it is to throw himself into denial and hedonism. It puts him in an interesting place to see Armand as this fun sexy stranger who is something to focus on to avoid thinking about everything that happened with Magnus and how his life is falling apart. That's an interesting ground, to me, for the very start of their relationship: Lestat seeing Armand as a means to an end (a self-indulgent distraction) rather than... a person with his own perspective and needs and experience, etc.

“Lestat did not often dwell on his own poor choices. He did what he believed was best in the moment—often without a great deal of forethought—and dealt with the consequences, whatever they might be. An easy philosophy to champion when the punishment landed on him alone.”

Lestat is impulsive. He acts without thinking and sometimes that is hilarious and sometimes it is..... not. This is, to me, the core of Lestat as a character. I like the idea of him being aware of it, but also having no inclination to change.

“Could he have prevented this, if he had just been honest?"

In a rare moment, Lestat is blaming himself unnecessarily. Honestly, the Children of Darkness were going to come after him one way or another. Him telling Nicki that he was turned imho wouldn't have prevented Armand's actions...

“What a fool he’d been.”

This is where Lestat's hurt over Nicki is starting to calcify into some pretty toxic beliefs about relationships. Lestat considered Nicki's needs above his own while he was alive and Nicki secretly resented it; Lestat regrets not spending more of his mortal life looking after his own happiness and is bitter over prioritizing his lover. So this is Lestat looking at all that and telling himself 'it's foolish to deny yourself things if it will make your lover happy, you should put yourself first always'. So much of how he mistreats Louis is a response to his relationship with Nicki imho and I wanted to show those threads.

“Never again would he play Cinderella’s stepsister, lopping off parts of himself to fit someone else’s impossibly small slipper.”

More of the same as the last quote, really. In some ways, Lestat's commitment to be 100% himself without censorship or shame is a wonderful thing. But he's also starting to associate... any kind of compromise or accommodation of a partner as mutilating himself. Positioning getting everything he wants and doing whatever he wants as his own safety / wholeness. Especially in this last chapter, I wanted it to be romantic but also for the reader to hopefully get a sense of... it's moving past liberation and self-acceptance and into deep selfishness and a refusal to acknowledge that the needs of others matter.

“He was going to suck every last drop of happiness from the world, and damn anyone who tried to stop him."

This also is along that same theme: Lestat is re-evaluating his private entertainment and joy and freedom as the most important thing in the world, regardless of how cruel or selfish it may make him to others. He's not going to be mourning over the humans he eats or making compromises etc. But also... I feel like a lot of what I'm saying in this post is underlining the negative, because I feel like that's the easier bit to overlook in the context of the fic. But... Lestat living to the fullest and embracing his life as a vampire is also kind of a good thing! Him wanting to look after his own happiness is not bad! It's just... he takes it too far, and there are consequences.

This is very long winded and probably not nearly as articulate or as insightful as you might have wished but I hope it is at least a little interesting to you, anon!

[name-s-are-not-important]

Woah, the anon who got mad over a story a stranger writes in their free time and posts on the internet for free, was hilarious actually. I almost laughed.

To the point: Your answer to their ask inspired me to ask my own question - would you like to maybe share some historical inspirations that lead you to create The Iron Song the way it is? Or maybe drop some more historical facts; the one about ages of royals' marriages was really neat.

Wish you a nice week, love your stories, byeee~

I laughed too, what a beautiful scene.

Oh wow, I love this question…. You have hereby opened Pandora's box, dear questioner, for this is a subject I love and could rant about endlessly. So, get ready, here's the short version :) (Thank you so much for this question!).

Alternate versions of a story when we change one detail in the whole course of events. This is a construct that has fascinated me for a long time, and which, as part of an ‘exercise’ in history and social theory repetition, I have long used. We take one event out of a process or add an event that wasn't there. What impact will it have if we leave the rest. In this case it was a change of two elements, i.e. Halt's disappearance became a more important event than in the canon because…. well… and this is where my undying love of fantasy and quasi-mythological stories reappeared, hinting at a magic-fantasy setting, but with ‘canon-ish’ realism. No dragons, but with magic. The second element to be knocked out of the sequence of events is Caitlyn's death. Caitlyn is fine and the second most important character besides Halt. What's happening politically, socially, plot-wise now that we have a strong princess who is, to put it lightly, pissed off at what happened to her dear brother. We have a mother who will fight for her child no matter what, we have a sister who will stand up against her brother to protect her brother. We have a princess for whom the nation will go to war, in an age of sexism, misogyny, patriarchy and a prevailing religion that despises women. How did this happen?

I love the role of women in history. I hate the version of history we are taught in schools, kings without mothers or wives who ruled and killed and died, and women in general were there but are not. Hundreds of books in ‘medieval’ realities wonderfully replicate this pattern. One female character per plot and that's enough. Absolutely no RA book would pass the Bechdel test. Not a single one of them. We have so many guys all birthed by women. We have a princess heir to the throne, a bunch of couriers, a queen, a queen mother…. and none are important enough to get even one scene with another woman to talk not about a guy. So my story will be half about Caitlyn, half about Halt. The sequel to ‘the Iron Song’ is already about Caitlyn. That much I can reveal. She is the main character. Give me more strong female characters who are strong beyond the fact that they say they are different from all the girls and are so much more masculine that they can deserve to be cool.

Erasing queer love in the pages of history. We know that history hates queer lovers. A few couples have managed to survive this hatred. We know that Achilles killed Hector only to avenge Patroclus. The grief of how many other Achilles was never recognised as their official reason for changing the course of history? How many Patroklos were buried in oblivion by books written before clerical historians, altered centuries later, censored and castigated? And how many women, queer women, have never moved beyond being ‘dear friends’ with their loved ones? I wanted a story where every important character would be queer. A story about a civil war heroes who met on two sides of the barricade, in love with each other and forced to fight each other. Soldiers who gave up the option of a comfortable life just to be with each other even a few days longer, in danger but together.

Again women, but this time mothers. Such as Eileen, but also such as Caitlyn, and such as Rosalind, and such as Siobhan, and such as several others whose names the plot has not yet given us. Women who was never cared about and whose names we don't know or remember because no one considered them important enough to be recorded in history.

The tragedy of civil wars. My country's history is littered with uprisings. For more than a century we did not exist on maps, trapped under the occupation of three other countries. When ww1 erupted, people called to serve in the occupying forces were pitted against each other. Shoulder to shoulder with the people who had occupated them, but against their neighbours who already belonged to another country. Brothers against brothers, acquaintances, friends. All because someone in power decided the fate of hundreds of thousands. The canon speaks of civil war, but from the POV of a king betrayed by a baron. I like Duncan, I love Duncan, but he was not the person most devastated by the war. He lost his wife later, but saved his daughter. Thousands of people went to fight for him and never came back…. In the history of probably every country there are plenty of dates marked with the notation ‘war’. The king died, long live the king. How many hundreds lay in the ground splashed with the blood of other hundreds is irrelevant to history. What matters is that the king is still there. And if he is gone, another one will be put on the throne.

Religious trauma. Yes, generational, and that of mine a little too. Without going into private details, the topic of religious trauma and its impact on society and the formation of social, behavioural and even legal norms is something that has interested me for a long time. This time I created a new religion, just for the purpose of this story. I was not inspired by any existing religion and if there are elements in common with any, it is a work of chance. This religion was meant to be the most atrocious form of violence against the most innocent, so that the full extent of the revulsion of what kind of person still supports it can be seen. The idea of cutting a child with a knife to rub an infusion of herbs and incense into the wound is meant to horrify and disgust. We experience this religion from the POV of people who have been harmed by it. Directly, like Halt and Óengus, or indirectly, like Caitlyn, or by stories in general, but still, like Crowley. And then we get into the head of someone who was so sure of his faith that he would sacrifice everything and everyone for it. Religious fanaticism, especially mixed with politics, its social effects, the propagation of religion by fire and sword, or in general the idea of religion being imposed on someone by force for the grace of a deity…. all this I wanted to show as horrifyingly as possible, before looking at it from the perspective of the people who grew up with it in a less cruel form than Halt, and the people it gave power to.

Family trauma and violence within the family, especially a high-profile one. Children in good clothes and in a rich home. Screaming behind closed doors. Now it is talked about, but so many centuries of these cries have passed and no one listened to them. In the records we find references to the fact that some king there was ‘eager to anger’. That is to say, he probably beat his wife, children, servants and anyone else who got near. And all of these people had stories that were not told.

8. Brothers but enemies, enemies but brothers. My beloved concept. Right next to unreliable narrator and haunted narrative.

9. Military history, especially medieval history. I love it. It makes my blood boil when I read the ‘bigos’ made by many authors who write about the ‘Middle Ages’. For non-Slavic: bigos is a dish made of cabbage, bacon and sausage, but it was often made with whatever you could find in the pantry after a week's work. A heavy, indigestible, not-so-good-for-your-belly-even-if-smells-yummy bigos. Such is the ‘bigos’ of military history, weaponry, military formations, armour, castles, architectural styles, ways of fighting and commanding an army that is made into many books. I fell in love with ken-jitsu at one time, and then fencing because of it. My country also has a very long history of knights and one heavily-armed cavalry, of which some misunderstood patriotism people are veeery proud. Anyway, this is the knowledge that everyone remembers from the most famous historical movies. It didn't help my special interest in the military through the ages to not develop.

10. The 10th, and probably last, eves of major historical changes. We remember dates when things changed. But how did it change? Well, the king changed. Why? What was happening one, two, ten years before? Sometimes some teachers tell us, and praise them for that, but generally it's just about remembering dates and events. But history is about people. People made it happen. Someone once hit the table one too many times and changed the world. Someone else hit him and there are two political parties with the same idea but great hatred towards each other. Someone else risked everything to protect his family. Who was he in history, a traitor, a hero, a fool or a loving brother/husband/son? Or maybe it all depends on whose song we listen to….

And now 3 funfacts, if anyone made it all the way here - congratulations!!!

The most known type of armour, the full plate armour appeared in the late Middle Ages (14th-15th centuries). It was composed of metal plates joined by leather straps to shield the knight from the blows of swords, lances and arrows. It weighed approximately 20-30 kg. A tunic with an embroidered coat of arms, the knight's family mark, was sometimes placed over the breastplate. Armour was bloody expensive, so if someone could afford it, they were rich and important, and unlikely to fight with a sword against just anyone. The heavy cavalry as a formation was mostly made up of men from noble families, serving in it was a great honour. For all the rest, there was room in the terrified, poor, dirty and poorly armed crowd that was trampled and murdered. In addition, this beautiful armour had one veeery important function - to prevent it from being pierced by a sword. A knight wielding a sword did not hit another knight in full armour with a sword, because this would not be very effective. Against each other, knights fought with lances. The sword was for the hoi polloi. And NO ONE, I repeat no one, rode into battle with their head uncovered. All the epic scenes of taking out a sword against a huge army and knights with bare heads, dishevelled hair and madness in their eyes…. it's as if we took away the soldier's bulletproof vest and sent him in swimming trunks instead.

The whole theme with the heavy cavalry is different in ‘The Iron Song’ but for reasons of social change initiated by religion. Claíomh Deartháir are a religion of warriors, and have controlled the state for three hundred years, training their commanders and dictating political terms. They have introduced quite a few changes. Some of you may have heard the opinion, dating back to the golden ages of chivalry, that one who has the heavier cavalry rules the world. Let's just say that Claíomh Deartháir agree.

Contrary to popular belief, people in the Middle Ages were as concerned about hygiene as they could be. In historical sources, one can find information about city baths available to everyone. The poor and peasants had designated places by rivers and streams where they could wash. The nobility enjoyed oils made from flowers, herbs and fragrant spices. A tiny nod in this direction is, of course, the scene at Araluen Castle where Crowley, brought up in a more poor, farming family, has the opportunity to come across the strange-smelling oily soap-shampoos that Halt was given by the medic. Previously, as a soldier, he preferred the traditional bathing methods for this social stratum. Halt sees nothing strange in this, having been brought up in other realities.

The strangest medieval footwear comes from Kraków (Poland). These shoes are ciżemki, flat with a short upper with an incredibly long ‘nose’. They appeared in the trade around 1330 and became very popular in Western Europe as cracoves or poulaines. The length of the top lengthened and shortened as fashions changed to reach a length 60 cm longer than the foot at its peak. Often the tops of shoes were decorated with additional elements. They were associated with promiscuity and decadence, so much so that at one point the Church issued a decree on who could wear them and who could not. An English poem from 1388 said that because of the long tops of the ciżemki, men were unable to kneel during Mass. The ciżemki fell out of favour around 1480 and did not reappear on a mass scale until the 20th century.

(To take care of the facts and not to rely on AuDHD's sometimes unreliable memory, all facts have been described based on online sources)

And if you'd like more rants, I have a whole lot more :)

Anyway, thank you so much for the opportunity to share this. You've made my day!

You have a great week too, thank you so much!!!

[despairforme]

congratulations on the 9 years with the spoon! any tips on sticking to writing the same character for so long without the fandom ruining them? genuinely curious!

[ ;O;//// Thank you so much anon! I'm super happy about having written him for 9 years. Thinking about all the time I've dedicated to my hobby, all the hours I've given him... Makes me happy. I'm living my best life!

I'd be happy to share some tips about sticking to a character. At least I can share what has worked for me. I can 5/5 recommend having such a long journey with a character. It's a commitment you won't regret! I'm not really sure what you mean by "the fandom ruining them", but I'll give my take anyway xD -

Picking a character that inspires you. I think this is the most important thing. I started writing Nnoitra initially because I enjoyed drawing him. He gave me a ton of inspiration for drawing, and I figured it might be the same for writing, and I was right. I'm always, ALWAYS inspired to write Nnoitra, because he is the source of my inspiration.

Writing them how YOU want, not how others want. Staying secure and confident in your portrayal is underrated. I've stayed away from discussing my portrayal (it's in my rules that I prefer not to discuss how I write him). Don't let people tell you how you should portray your muse. If they don't like the way you write them, they can give writing them a go themselves. If you disagree with popular fanon ect, then go your own way. Your muse is yours.

About mirrors / duplicates. How people deal with mirrors/duplicates of the same muse really depends on the person, I think. In my early days of writing Nnoitra, I used to block/blacklist all other Nnoitra writers, because I didn't want to see their take on Nnoitra. I was "possessive" of him, if that makes sense. Now, I'm happy to see different versions of him, and I enjoy writing with my duplicates. Seeing other people love him is wholesome to me! I wish I'd interacted with my duplicates a lot sooner, and chatted with them. Talking to duplicates and befriending them has made me more confident and comfortable, so I would personally recommend that approach.

Building friendships, navigating the community. Interacting with lots of different people, both new and old people in the fandom is important in order to get enough interactions and connections. It's pretty difficult to write a muse for many years if you don't build any rp-connections. Also, having long-term friendships with your partners is amazing. There are people on here I've known for 10 years now! It's wild! Staying AWAY from drama is also incredibly important. You don't want any negativity to be attached to your blog. You don't want to feel anxious when logging on. Don't engage with any drama. Don't comment on it, don't give your opinion, don't discuss it with anyone. You never know when someone might take something out-of-context, or how "big" even small drama can grow. If drama is going on in the fandom, I'd recommend just blacklisting it, or going offline until it dies down. If you're keeping your blog for a long time, remember that people can go back and find things you've written ages ago. Maybe that one friend you stuck up for 2 years ago really does turn out to be a scam-artist or a predator. Don't underestimate how petty people can be. They can go back and find your posts about supporting this person and bam, you're added to a do-not-interact list. Even if all you did was support your friend at the time. If you get anon hate in your inbox, block and delete the ask. You don't need that negativity on your long-term blog. IDK I like to think of my blog as a garden that I'm cultivating?? I generally keep only positive, nice things on it. Things that I can go back and look at with approval and happiness.

Branching out of the fandom. This is probably (imo) the most important thing. I don't think I would've been able to write for 9 years if I hadn't branched out of the fandom. Not because the fandom is bad. Not because it doesn't inspire me, but because the amount of plots really is limited. Having to work within the boundaries of the fandom, and with a limited amount of characters isn't sustainable for 9 years. I love canon interactions, but I can't base my whole writing on that. It's too repetitive, which brings me to my next tip -

Give yourself the plots you crave. Getting "bored" of a muse can happen if you find yourself more interested in something else. Watched a new fantasy-anime? Maybe you're really into this one pirate show. Maybe you're interested in a specific time in history. MAKE THAT AU!! I cannot recommend AUs enough!! If you want to write a pirate muse, instead of making a new muse, just make an AU for your current muse. I have over 30 AUs for Nnoitra at this point, most of them inspired from either shows I've watched or specific interests I have ( like my formula 1!au, since I'm a huge f1 fan ). Don't be afraid to reach out to people who might be interested in writing the AUs with you. Don't be afraid to write drabbles for the AUs.

A continuous story. Another tip I can give for keeping things interesting, is to have a "story" for your muse that you continue through the years. Like my Nnoitra's main verse. Everything that happens to him in that verse progresses the story. The muses he interacts with become characters in his story. I get to see him develop and have ups and downs. It's like watching your favorite show with your favorite character, and there is always a new season. 5/5.

Hope this helps! This is just some things I could think of on the top of my head. And, this is just from my personal experience! ]

[pumpkinsy0]

Buck x Tim headconnons

I feel like they would be a good duo

Buck can fight, but he's just retired to fight. Just tends the Bar he owes

They will both beat peoples asses, if they fight together

Tim makes fun of Buck for being old, but Buck doesn't get mad he lets it slide

If its Buck's b-day, Tim will steal him little gifts (Buck gets mad at Tim for stealing but is thankful for the gift)

If its Tim's b-day, Buck will let him have free beer (only on his birthday)

Tim dares Buck to fight him, but still losses to Buck anyways 😂

When Tim is having a bad day, he will go to Buck's bar and spend there all day till he's drunk (maybe will often tell Buck about his bad day, and Buck will try his best to comfort him) I thought that will be cute♥😭

Since Buck has a dog (I feel like it should be a girl and her name should be pig) But Buck's dog loves Tim and Tim loves her back, he loves playing with her and she loves playing with him

One time Buck was laughing at Tim, because he was getting attacked by Pig while playfighting, and she accidentally bit Tim so hard he ended up having a scar on his neck (ofc Buck took Pig off Tim, but Tim was hurt so badly he couldn't talk right for a few week😭)

Tim wasn't mad at Pig, but was mad at Buck for laughing at him💀 (its fine if u don't like the whole idea)

When Tim's car isn't working and he need to go some places, he would steal Buck's car and Buck finds out, gets really pissed at him for stealing his car

Speaking of Buck's car, Tim like riding with Buck when he's running errands (Tim's passenger princess😭 Buck is forces to buy him stuff) 💀

Sorry for writing so much. And sorry if you don't like some stuff I put down. But I would love to see what you come up with. (I love your headconnons there so awesome! I wanna know what you put for THESE TWO. And its them being friends not lovers I swear😭)

This is the same person that asked for the "Buck Merrill headconnons" just letting you know. :D And you know that Buck is my favorite character. :D I also loved what you wrote for him, and thanks for taking your time writing about him. Now I wanna know for this one. :D

OOoOo i actually dont see many ppl talk about buck n tim so id b happy to talk about it!!!

perhaps buck will b my third fav caribbean man of the outsiders one day

•i see them as business partners and friends!!! not exactly THEE closest of friends, but friends nonetheless!!!

•so like,,,both of em r black,,,,both got 4c hair,,,perhaps they share tips n tricks on how to maintain their hait🗽🗽

•i can totally see buck w cornrows, tim probably did it for him as a “thanks for letting me hide out here while the cops searched for me and patching me up”

•tim can braid hair thanks to practice on angela and curlys hair btw i feel like i should announce that

•tim absolutely does make fun of buck for being old even though it’s literally by a few years buck is so sick of it, ESPECIALLY when tims drunk, ur so real for this hc anon

•for tims bday he definitely abuses his free beer privileges n takes some home, if he can get it for free and not have to pay later he’s DEFINITELY gonna b on that

•buck doesnt rlly fight anymore but he for sure isnt rusty, hes the bartender AND the bouncer let that b known☝🏽☝🏽

•buck MIGHT join in on a rumble if tim RLLY needed the backup but thats a huge might

•AT FIRST pig was fucking terrified of tim, like she would run away from tim, but tim gave her some food ONCE and now she loves em

•sometimes when buck and tim get together for business reasons tims just petting pig cause fluffy dog goes brrrrr

•inspired by my dog but sometimes pig just takes tims hand and literally forces the guy wherever and tim wants to hate it but pig is a cutie so he lets it slide<33

•LIKE I SAID caribbean men, buck prolly taught tim some trinidadian creole english while tim taught buck some haitian creole #culturalkingswowiezowie

•if tims having a bad day or is just bored and doesnt rlly wanna go home he just goes to bucks bar to pick someone up or drink a bit hes not a busy man EVERY day surprisingly

•rlly when it comes to buck, if darry cant rlly relate to him he knows that buck will to some degree!!!

•ALSO ALSO hc that when tims locked up or gets arrested, he calls for buck to watch over angela and curly, cant have them without a guardian now

BUT YEA THIS IS WHAT I COULD COME UP W ON THE WHIM hope u liked it anon🫶🏽🫶🏽

and thx for liking the hcs :D!!

[destinyc1020]

Hey destiny,

I dont know if you want to respond to this ask because it's about Tom and post Romeo and Juliet. I write this cause there have been so many think pieces bout hisbchiuces and some fans catastrophize, and I value your perspective on these things.

I'm excited for SM4 and Uncharted 2, but after that, I don't want Tom to be a part of Avengers 5 or any crossover until he has success outside of the MCU.

He's too talented to be stuck in that franchise that rn doesn't sound secure and looks to be dependent on him. Shawn Levy gave him praise a few days ago, teasing a deadpool crossover and for me thats an alarm bell in my head because it's so obvious they are trying to make his SM the Iron Man of that universe. What is baffling with me with his career is that he's doing these films cause he wants to, but deep down, I don't think he just wants to do just this. I remember the q&a for TCR for sag-aftra and how he was scared to go outside of the MCU bubble before taking that role and how he was happy he was doing this.

I'm confused because it's not just for money to stay in that universe. Tom avoids fashion shows and campaigns that could pay more than a movie star salary. He could really milk his persona for money due to him being a walking meme. He actively avoids socialising in hollywood or going to parties or events, yet he's stuck doing sequels? Tom is still young, he can always come back to those films cause the demand is high and i dont mind those films but i want some more variety. I selfishly want to understand where his head is. I would understand if he was deeply pretentious, but he's not. I've yet to see him do an a24 film or projects filmtwittwr has a hard-on for, lol. I don't like film twitter, sorry. Very toxic imo.

I rewatched TCR, and it's honestly so much better than I remembered. Tom is displaying an arpeggios of emotional acuity that is so uniquely rare that I didn't even want it to finish. I wanted to know more about Danny and his treatment. I'm not against big ip movies, I'm concerned with the lack of vision, director, scripts, and lack of practical effects. I want style as well as a blue screen.

The winner rumours are giving me hope because it's a risk, and I know Tom can do this. I think my irritation for his existing ip as of rn is those toxic fanbases and biased critics that use it against Tom as a cautionary tale. Don't do Marvel, or you'll end up like him like he isn't in high demand and talented af. Like JE is considered a movie star yet tell me a film he's opened as a lead not supporting, that made profit for over 200 million? They always move the goalposts for Tom and also Z, but that's for another day, lol.

If there's on actor Tom should look for inspiration, it's Tom Cruise. Take away his personal life, an actor who didn't fit the mould for most male actors of that time,he's the only one career that has still stayed intact. I remember reading that after being cast for his role in the interview with a vampire, he was swarmed with hate against him doing the part. Even the author and brad pitt were against his casting, and he proved them wrong. He doesn't have an oscar, but he's still considered a movie star as opposed to his peers who faded out.

Tom is a movie start idc. He sold out his show with just his name alone and an old pic, without Spiderman with a cast that was yet to be announced. Every day after a show, crowds are swarming to see him and the cast, not SM.

He has the sauce, I just hope he uses it now and don't wait.

Whew! Anon....You wrote a LOT in this ask lol. I'm not sure I can get to everything you've addressed in here, but I'll pick out some main points. I'm not sure if you intended this to be a "confession" or not, but I'll just answer normally...

First off: I write this cause there have been so many think pieces bout hisbchiuces and some fans catastrophize, and I value your perspective on these things.

I'm sorry, but WHAT?? 😅

I have no clue what that word means.

I'm excited for SM4 and Uncharted 2, but after that, I don't want Tom to be a part of Avengers 5 or any crossover until he has success outside of the MCU.

Hmm...I mean, I guess I can sort of understand that sentiment. You just want him to not be typecast as a Superhero, or to be seen as someone who can only be successful in action films/popcorn flicks I'm assuming? I think that's pretty fair. With that said, I will say that even though some of Tom's projects outside of Spiderman haven't been as well-received as we as fans might want (i.e. "Cherry", CW, TCR, I personally thought TDATT did pretty well actually), I will say that he's been very fortunate that a LOT of these have been only STREAMING projects. It's not like they were put out in theaters, so even if they weren't that well-received by critics, who cares?? It's not like they had "box office numbers" to also worry about.

Plus, who knows if these films might have done well at the box office even in spite of negative film critics' reviews? 🤔 Did anyone ever consider that? Either way, to me, it hasn't been that big of a deal?

He's too talented to be stuck in that franchise that rn doesn't sound secure and looks to be dependent on him.

Tom is definitely very talented! But does TOM himself feel "stuck" in the franchise? He hasn't filmed a Spiderman movie since 2020/2021...that's almost 4 years ago. Is he really "stuck"?? 🤔

What is baffling with me with his career is that he's doing these films cause he wants to, but deep down, I don't think he just wants to do just this. I remember the q&a for TCR for sag-aftra and how he was scared to go outside of the MCU bubble before taking that role and how he was happy he was doing this.

I definitely don't think that Tom wants to be typecast or put in a box... He seems to want to do other things outside of MCU films (hence, his venturing and experimenting with other more challenging roles), but at the same time, I do think that he genuinely enjoys playing the Spider-Man character? I don't think two things can be true at the same time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I'm confused because it's not just for money to stay in that universe. Tom avoids fashion shows and campaigns that could pay more than a movie star salary. He could really milk his persona for money due to him being a walking meme. He actively avoids socialising in hollywood or going to parties or events, yet he's stuck doing sequels?

Maybe those just aren't his thing? 🤷🏾‍♀️

With that said, I mean, I DO think it's good to go to Hollywood parties SOMETIMES, because those afford you a lot of ways to network and meet people you look up to, and maybe influential people who can possibly give you another acting job at some point. 👀 To me, it's just smart?? But not everyone likes to go to parties, and not everyone is really wanting to have a persona. In Tom's case, he's UBER famous, so he might actually be trying to TEMPER down his fame a bit, so that's why he prefers not to really be out there. Even his dad said that he worries at times about Tom's fame (not about the work), because his level of fame might not afford him the ability to just go out and do things like that, and still live a normal life w/out being hounded, ywkim?

I've yet to see him do an a24 film or projects filmtwittwr has a hard-on for, lol. I don't like film twitter, sorry. Very toxic imo.

I'm not really understanding what this has to do with anything. MOST actors take on roles that speak to them or ones that they find either challenging or interesting. MOST actors aren't taking roles because they think "Film Twitter" is going to like it. 🙄 Most actors don't even care about what their fans or people are going to think when choosing roles.

They choose to do a role because it's a great opportunity to maybe work with a great director or cast that they've always wanted to work with, or because the story/writing/plot is very compelling and it's a role that they can really sink their teeth into.

I rewatched TCR, and it's honestly so much better than I remembered. Tom is displaying an arpeggios of emotional acuity that is so uniquely rare that I didn't even want it to finish. I wanted to know more about Danny and his treatment. I'm not against big ip movies, I'm concerned with the lack of vision, director, scripts, and lack of practical effects. I want style as well as a blue screen.

Yea, Tom did an amazing job in TCR! 😃 I'm sorry the series was so heavy that it kind of made him go into a dark place while filming it 😔, but overall, I'm really glad that he went outside of the grain and did something very different from the norm! 😊

And the Critics Choice gave him a nomination, sooooo.... Obviously it must not have been hated THAT badly by the critics lol.

If there's on actor Tom should look for inspiration, it's Tom Cruise.

I've been saying this for a while now! 😃

Tom is a movie start idc.

Of COURSE he is!! Why do you have doubt anon?? 😅

He has the sauce, I just hope he uses it now and don't wait.

Tom definitely has the sauce, and I actually think he's already been using it?? 🤔 What are you looking for anon? Also, do you know that actors (male actors) are typically able to have a long-running career in Hollywood and be just fine?? It's female actresses that usually have a time limit on the types of roles they can play. But men can play just about anything for as long as they're still alive. It's unfair, but it's true.

Tom is a white, hetero, MALE actor in Hollywood. He will be just fine! He has DECADES to play a ton of roles Anon. Some actors out here are only JUST NOW getting their shine and they're past their 30's and 40s. Look at Coleman Domingo for example. He JUSt now got an Oscar nomination this year, and he's 54 years old. Idk where fans get this idea that Tom (or ANY actor for that matter) needs to be winning Oscars in their 20s, or doing such huge roles before they've even hit their 30's, as if their time is going to somehow run out and they don't have 30 MORE years to go in this industry lol. 😅🤣

Even Leo didn't win an Oscar until he was well into his 40s. He got his first nod at age 19, but didn't actually WIN one until his 40s'. Leo has been touted as some kind of acting prodigy, but even HE didn't get recognized with an Oscar until his 40's, and he's been acting since he was a kid! So, Idk where this sense of urgency comes from when it comes to Tom and his acting career, but the man isn't even in his 30's yet lol. He has PLENTY of time to do a wide range of roles! 😊

[tricksterlatte]

21 & 25 for the ask meme?

21: a fandom you're not active in anymore but you still really like

I mentioned Tales earlier, so here's another one? I never wrote for it, but I still adore hq!

25: a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces

I have several tbh, and this is ample opportunity for me to talk about them:

Mute liberally. Mute literally anything you do not enjoy. Fandom is meant for escapism and happiness, not competition or education. You should build community around what you enjoy and focus mostly on a small group of friends at most. Do not create solely for the pursuit of fame. Algorithms are unkind, and people are also unkind when faced with pseudo-competition, even if the flames are stoked by people who do not have authority in a space meant for fun. Put your fun first if you want to enjoy your time here! Make what makes YOU happy!

Being anti harassment also includes not insulting a random ship that slightly annoys you or seemingly "gets in the way' of your ship (at LEAST publicly, but also around large groups and around people you know adore this). No one feels better by continuing a cycle of ship hate, and I say this as someone who was not exempt from this pattern of behavior in the past. It will lead to misery, including your own. Go back to advice one and please mute and block if anyone perpetuates it. I will mute, unfollow, or block people over this nowadays even if I agree with them. It's not nice. 3. If something, whether art or a story or even a little headcanon post makes you happy, tell that person! I was a terribly shy and reserved person in the past and I don't think I commented enough when something sparked happiness for me. Some days, and for many of us, fandom has kept us going during a dark time in our lives. I think positive community can help more people do the same. Tell someone if a story or a comic or anything brought you a smile, a laugh, or a glimmer of hope. Chances are good the art/writing process was what gave the artist hope too.

One person was all it took for my entire life to change forever, and it all started with art for my fic. Sometimes you have no idea how much what may seem small will mean to another person behind a screen. Even a little "I loved this!" will make an author squeal if their AO3 inbox has been devoid of comments or only filled with anon hate. Let someone know what they made has made you happy! Your words will inspire them as well!

Thank you for the ask!

[meowzfordayz]

Sweetie T, I’m here and incredibly late but there’s something I just wanted to tell you after seeing all of the madness that was that hateful anon:

Thank you for just being you. It’s crazy because before I started posting on tumblr (hell, even just having an account because I just lurked on this site as a guest), it was your writing that drew me in. The one that pushed me to finally start sharing writing on here was your post: splat, splat, splattering and I can’t quite describe the inspiration you gave me, but it was great.

And when we did start interacting, your warmth just…grr I lack the words because it’s a little overwhelming…but I felt so welcomed thanks to you in addition with many other writers here, and I hope to create a kind place similar to your gentle (and sometimes silly 😝) blog.

I’m losing my train of thought and I don’t wanna just repeat myself but by rephrasing, so I’d like to end with this:

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity! 💕

Thank you :3 May you sleep well and have a yummy dinner

Cherry !! 🥺 First and foremost, I appreciate you and your support. 💞 Ik I say, “I appreciate your support/I’m grateful for your support,” a lot, and it’s bc I do; I hope to never catch myself taking you, or anyone, for granted. 🫶🏽

I’m incredibly honored to know I helped encourage you to begin sharing your own writing, and am happy we’ve been moots through so much of our Tumblr journeys. 💗 (I still remember writing all of me/all of you for you 😉 pretty sure I was up late that night heh)

Thank you for your kind and thoughtful words, and for nurturing such welcoming and heartfelt vibes both on your own blog + Tumblr in general. 💓 It’s raining here 🌧️, so imagine us cuddling and giggling over Tanjirou together. 🥰

[reidsrambles]

To those who act like fanfic writers owe their audience ANYTHING, cut it the fuck out. If you're not directly paying an author for an agreed upon service (which, is largely not even legal with fanfics), you get no say in what they write, how they write it, or when you get it. Even with trad. published authors, they get contracted and paid by a publisher. That publisher then sets their deadlines and approves what they write and when.

If someone is publishing fics online, EVEN IF THEY GIVE A RELEASE DATE, you have zero say over them. The amount of hate Sundrop has received over this series is absolutely ridiculous. Sure, we're on the internet and people can technically say whatever they want, we're also all part of a mutual fandom. To treat other people, especially those within a community you're also a part of, with such disrespect and self-entitlement is disgusting.

I absolutely loved this series and if you follow me and haven't read it, give it a try! Sundrop is an amazing author and I'm so sad that they've been bullied like this. To be bullied into feeling so disconnected from your art is heartbreaking. This series has been a huge inspiration to me as I've been working on my upcoming series.

Sundrop's series also ended up being 57,400 words. That's literally the better part of a full NOVEL! Anyone who expects that written, edited, and published on a short timeline is out of their mind. I'd also like you to keep in mind, that it takes trad. published authors months of writing a first draft of a novel, and that's with most of them working at it FULL-TIME. Many fanfic writers are disabled and/or chronically ill, have children, work full or part-time, or otherwise have lives. This is a hobby. I have other hobbies.

I'm disabled and, while I don't work, I spend a large part of my day managing my disabilities and focusing on my health. I love writing as a hobby, but I also love knitting/crocheting, making beaded bracelets, playing video games, watching TV and movies (which is why we're all here), and going to see live theatre when I'm able. None of those hobbies is any more or less valid than writing.

No fic authors should be expected to wake up, work the number of hours equivalent to a job writing fanfics, go to sleep, and repeat. That's literally what some people are asking for. I could tell you guys that I'll have a fic out next week but then my disabilities get in the way of that or I have a pain flare and have to move the date. That's how it works when you're getting this content for FREE online. I don't care if a fic author set out a schedule. You, as someone who gets this art for FREE, don't get to criticize the person giving you their art for FREE, because they couldn't stick to the schedule that I'm certain they had intended to.

I understand being disappointed, but you do NOT take that out on anyone, let alone the author. I loved this series and if I could have binge-read it all after the first chapter was published, I would have. But, publishing it chapter by chapter (which is extremely common for super long fics for a reason) gave me more time to process each chapter and to anticipate the next. I loved the ending to this series, but I wish that Sundrop had been able to nurture this story until they were happy with it and felt ready to publish it. Sundrop even shared updates and said that they had personal stuff going on and shared their feelings of hesitation. WE WEREN'T EVEN ENTITLED TO THOSE UPDATES SO SHOW SOME DECENCY AND RESPECT.

I'm sorry for going on a fucking rant, but reading what that anon wrote to Sundrop has me pissed. the. fuck. off. Sundrop, I hope you're doing alright and you can always DM me if you ever need a chat.

Be kind to one another, everyone. 💜

Careful - Chapter Six (Finale)

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Six: That's What You Get

That’s what you get when you let your heart win.

Summary:

Spencer finally confronts the man who has been threatening you, and even if things don't go according to plan, he finds the strength to overcome - to protect you and your son.

Even if he's unsure about what comes next, he knows one thing - he's never been happier.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Smut, Angst, and Fluff.

Word Count: 10,400

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Warning - this chapter has not been edited. Thanks to this lovely anon, I have been motivated to post this chapter as soon as possible, and so I am posting it without editing it to get it off my plate. It may not be as good or as thoughtful as the other chapters because it's not edited... but I'm not even sure I care.

Detailed warnings below the cut and author's notes at the very end of the fic.

Warnings: (this list may not be as detailed or complete as other chapters because usually I write the warnings list while editing, and I have not edited this chapter, so I do apologise if I have accidentally left out some warnings. this is all from memory and I'm pretty sure this is everything); typical Criminal Minds warnings - mentions of murder and killing, the UnSub attacks Spencer and the reader; descriptions of physical violence (mostly done to Spencer because the reader gets away); the UnSub and Spencer get into a physical fight; mentions of Spencer having injuries from the UnSub's attack; Sebastian is completely unharmed; mentions of Emily being drugged in the form of a (fictional) knock-out gas; mentions of the anxiety and bad emotions that this kind of attack can cause; Spencer and the reader have sex - unprotected p in v sex; mentions of potential body insecurity after giving birth; breeding kink; mentions of pregnancy - and I believe that's it.

...

“Go upstairs, get Sebastian, take him in your room and lock the door. Call JJ or any contact in his phone labeled BAU. Call until they pick up and tell them that we need back up here. No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody. Got it?” 

The words had barely penetrated your ears, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you could barely process it. 

Go upstairs. Get Sebastian. Call JJ. 

You clutched Spencer’s phone tight in your hand, knowing that it was imperative not to lose it, not to drop it along the way. 

Spencer moved toward the source of the noise, toward your office door, yielding the kitchen knife in hand as his weapon and you slid off the counter on shaking legs as you ran toward the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the office door burst open - it opened in the direction to smack Spencer in the face; clearly, the man had heard him approaching and opened the door with the intention to hit him with it. You heard Spencer grunt in pain and you saw blood. 

The door had hit him the face, maybe broken his nose. 

You paused on the bottom stare. 

“Spencer-!” 

“The good doctor won’t be your problem anymore.” The man growled, emerging from the darkness of your office. 

He was wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt, partially obscuring his face, and you froze in fear as he stalked down the hallway toward you. Heavy boots stomping across the floor as a dizzy Spencer tried to recover from the injury. 

“Go!” Spencer choked out, his mouth filling with blood as it leaked from his nose. 

You screamed at your legs to move, and you stumbled upward, crawling up the stairs on your hands at knees. 

You let out a scream when you felt a strange, gloved hand on your hip - another hand desperately gripping onto the waistband of your pants, as though trying to pull you backwards by the fabric. 

“Spencer!” 

You screamed out his name on instinct, no other word coming to your lips when you were terrified - thinking of no one else who could save you when your limbs collapsed, shaking from terror. 

Suddenly then, the foreign hands of a monster were gone from you. 

“Go!” Spencer screamed again, his voice slightly muffled. You heard a thump, but couldn’t look behind you. You could only guess that it was Spencer wrestling the man away from you - keeping you out of danger. “Go, Y/N!”

You forced your limbs to work, and you pushed yourself up, panting out anxious breaths as you climbed up the stairs, your heart nearly racing out of your chest as you escaped the man who had been intending to kill you. 

… 

Meanwhile, at the police station, JJ walked into the conference room nursing another cup of coffee. 

“Hey, did you send someone over to watch over the house?” She asked Hotch. 

“I sent Prentiss over with one of the locals.” Hotch nodded. 

This calmed JJ a bit. She knew that Prentiss was good. Even if she didn’t know you, she was protective. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you on her watch. 

Hotch then became absorbed in a file he was reading and JJ became distracted when Morgan spoke to her. 

“Can you believe that pretty boy might actually be a dad?” He posed, slumping back in his chair with a tired huff. 

“Might be?” JJ asked, wondering what he meant. 

“Well…” Morgan turned the chair toward her, and he gave a distinct, stiff expression - one of dubious uncertainty. 

JJ raised her brows back in return. 

“Do you really think that she would lie to Spencer about this?” JJ pressed. 

“Well… I don’t know. I just can’t imagine Reid makin’ the home-run in order to have a kid.” Morgan shrugged. 

JJ let out a dry laugh. 

“Come on, get serious.” She sighed. “I mean… I did consider that too.” She said. “But he told me that they definitely…” She finished off this thought with a simple expression to explain what she meant, and Morgan grinned and laughed. 

“Oh, my man.” He said, clearly proud of the idea of Spencer having enough sex to produce a child. “I can’t believe playboy had a girlfriend and didn’t tell me.” 

“I think he was embarrassed.” JJ shrugged. “Like… back then we all considered him a baby. And he didn’t wanna disappoint us, or have us make fun of him.” 

Morgan nodded. “Good point.” He sipped his own coffee. “Well… now he’s stuck payin’ child support cause he didn’t come to Uncle Morgan for The Talk and he didn’t know how to use a condom.” 

JJ giggled and shook her head. 

“You know what Spencer actually said to me?” JJ posed. 

Morgan hummed in reply, now curious. 

“He said that he would be disappointed if he found out that the kid wasn’t his.” She told him, remarking on the earlier conversation that she had with Reid. 

Morgan chuckled. “Well, what does that look like to you?” He said, picking up one of the stalker photos that the UnSub had sent of you and your son. Clearly, he was saying that by looks alone - it was very likely Spencer’s kid. 

“Tiny Spencer.” JJ chuckled. 

“I would say it’s pretty safe to confirm that the kid is his.” Morgan shrugged. 

JJ nodded, and then he added on: 

“He’s probably gonna come in here and tell us how many germs are on preschool toys, and the likelihood of falling down in a playground accident.” Morgan remarked, making a joke about Spencer’s traits passing on to his son (not yet knowing how true it actually was). 

JJ let out a bright laugh. “Oh my god.” 

… 

Spencer was nearly blinded with pain when the UnSub shoved the door back into his face, and he tried his best to use sheer force of will to power through it. 

He couldn’t let a simple little injury get in the way. He had to protect you now. He had to protect his son. 

He heard you scream and when he looked over, that man had his filthy hands all over you, clearly trying to pull you down the stairs toward him. 

“Spencer!” You called out desperately, clearly looking for his help. 

“Go!” Spencer yelled at you, encouraging you to get away. 

Spencer ran over to the stairs and without hesitation, grabbed the man by the back of his sweatshirt, hauling him off you with a strength he didn’t know he had, and looping his arm around the man’s shoulder in order to raise the hand wielding the kitchen knife - he stabbed blindly and landed a shallow blow between the UnSub’s ribs, causing him to grunt and stumble backwards onto Spencer, knocking them both over - making Spencer hit the ground hard on his back with the man’s weight falling on top of him. 

“Go, Y/N!” He yelled, wheezing past the pain of the fall as he pushed the man off him, tightly keeping his grip on the knife, pulling it out of the wound as he moved, knowing that it would do the most damage to leave the cut gaping and bleeding freely - hoping that the man would pass out from blood loss. 

Spencer heard thumping as you ran up the stairs, and he hoped that the UnSub wouldn’t chase you - he was still dizzy from having his head knocked around twice in the past five minutes, and suddenly, the knife was snatched out of his hand as the man rose to his feet, somehow so lively and energetic after just being stabbed. 

“How kind of you, Doctor Reid.” The man grinned down at him, whipping the hood off his head, revealing a menacing, cold smile on a terribly average face. He pressed a boot into the middle of Spencer’s chest, making him cough and sputter as the air was pressed out of him by pressure on his sternum. “You brought me the knife that I’m going to kill your whore with.” 

Those words somehow gave Spencer all the power he needed. Pure, unbridled rage fueling him - the thought that he had failed you all those years ago, that he had been the monster in your life and he needed to rise up and defeat the monster for you now. 

He reached up and dug his fingers into a tender nerve in the man’s calf, something he knew simply from studying human anatomy in books, and the muscles in his leg went limp - Spencer then used his grip to pull the man’s leg forward, knocking his whole body off-kilter and sending him falling onto his back. Spencer climbed on top of him and delivered a weak punch before he was flipped over again - when the UnSub raised the knife toward him, Spencer instinctively put up his arm and felt something slice through his flesh, but the pain didn’t register with the adrenaline pumping through his body. 

He jabbed two sharp fingers into the man’s windpipe, leaving him gasping while he got up and ran toward the kitchen - in honesty, looking for more tools to harm the man with. A frying pan, perhaps. He only made it partway through the living room before the UnSub caught up to him, and pinned him against one of the large bookshelves that you had bracketing the television - when Spencer felt the sharp blade of the knife ghosting against his throat, he instinctively went stalk still. 

“There ya go.” The man whispered. “Gentle now.” 

“Fuck you.” Spencer rasped out in reply, struggling for a moment against the hold - he felt the blade just barely bite at his skin, not yet cutting - and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get very far. 

“Stop struggling, Doctor.” The man mocked him, fisting the front of his shirt, forcing him to be still. Spencer’s heart thumped in his chest, and though there was an undertone of fear, rage was the headliner still as it pulsed through him. “I’m gonna tell you how this is gonna go.” 

Spencer remained silent, allowing himself more time to think as the man rambled on. 

“I’m gonna take this knife, and I’m gonna stab it right through your spine, severing your spinal cord. So you won’t be able to move. You won’t be able to run, or fight. You won’t be able to do a damn thing to save her.” The man explained with vervant, graphic joy. “And I’m gonna prop you up right over there-” He motioned to one of the living room chairs with a single finger. “So that you can watch while I fuck your bitch. With my cock and with my knife. And you can beg, and you can cry the whole time. Right up until I slit her pretty throat. And I’ll probably even leave you alive. So that you can just… live with the knowledge that you’re a pathetic little worm who couldn’t save her. And then, I think I’m gonna take your kid with me when I leave.” He chuckled. “I’ll raise him up good, so that he can come back and finish off Daddy when he gets older.” 

He reached up and slapped Spencer on the cheek - just a tap, just enough to humiliate him along with the words. 

“Does that sound like a plan, Doctor?” 

Spencer let out an enraged huff. Like a bull rearing up to charge. 

If he wanted to play - then Spencer could play. 

Especially because the pathology was all too clear now. 

“I get it now.” Spencer let out the words casually. “You know, we thought that because you were targeting single mothers, you had been neglected by your mother in childhood and you were taking out an inherent rage that you had toward women ever since. But it all makes sense now.” He chucked. 

The UnSub looked at him with intrigue in his eyes, and didn’t speak, so clearly he wanted to know what it was that Spencer had to say - he was too curious by the breakdown of his own mind that Spencer was going to give him. 

Spencer took an uninterested glance up at the ceiling, making the man wait more for him to continue speaking, and then he saw it. His way to truly gain the upper hand. 

Sebastian’s Halloween candy bucket was balanced right on the edge of the shelf above his head. It would be the perfect surprise. 

“You hated your father for abandoning you.” Spencer concluded, looking back at the man with a purely smug expression. “So now you feel a need to play Daddy to get some kind of personal fulfillment - to supposedly be the man that your father never was. And you feel an intense rage toward any man who supposedly abandoned their own child in return - which is what you think I’ve done.” 

Spencer grinned. 

“But I’ll give you a little newsflash. You’ll never be a good father, and you’ll never get anywhere near my son.” 

Spencer then bumped himself backwards into the shelf, knocking the candy bucket down onto the UnSub’s head - it wasn’t heavy, but the plastic hitting him, along with the sudden rain of candy made him jolt with the surprise, causing him to jump backward, finally removing the knife from Spencer’s throat. 

This gave Spencer the chance to tackle him. 

… 

When you raced to the top of the stairs and got to Sebastian’s room, he was peeking nervously through a crack in the door at you. 

“Mommy?” He asked anxiously. “What’s that noise?” 

“Come here.” You reached your arms out to him and he ran to you, clearly understanding that it was urgent. 

You hugged him tightly and took him down the hall, and you heard another crash from downstairs. Sebastian whimpered and hugged you back tightly. 

‘No matter what happens or what you hear, do not open the door for anybody.’

Spencer’s instructions had been very clear, but - you couldn’t leave him alone. You couldn’t leave him to go through hell by himself. Not this time. 

You knew exactly what you needed to do. 

You took Sebastian into your room and locked the door, just as Spencer had said, and then you took him over to your closet and set him down inside. 

“Mommy, what’s happening?” Sebastian asked, his voice clearly verging on tears. 

“Seb, you have to listen very carefully.” You told him, gently grabbing both sides of his face, still holding the phone, forcing his attention toward you. 

Unfortunately, none of the parenting books you had read described how to talk to a child about a situation like this, so you went with your gut. You tried to speak in a calm voice so as not to alarm him, but you wanted to speak honestly and stress the seriousness of the situation. 

“There is a bad man in the house.” You said, firmly. “If the bad man finds you, he could hurt you. So you have to hide in the closet, okay?” 

“Okay.” Sebastian said, his voice small and frightened. Your gut twisted knowing that he was afraid - but you were going to do everything in your power to keep him from getting hurt. 

“Spencer is trying to make the bad man go away. But I have to go help him.” You added on. “I’m going to dial a number on the phone. And you’re gonna talk to my friend JJ. And you’re gonna tell her that we need her to come and help. Okay?” 

Sebastian was smart. You trusted him to do it. 

You flipped open the phone and found JJ’s contact among the most recent, and selected it. 

“If no one answers then you hit this button.” You told Sebastian, showing him the ‘redial’ button. “Okay?” 

He nodded. 

“Okay, here. Take the phone and go in there.” You pointed for him to go further back into the large closet, and you grabbed a teddy bear off your bed that he had there from a few nights before and passed it in to him. “We can’t turn on the light because you’re hiding, okay?” You told him. 

He looked up at you with those big eyes, and you saw nothing but Spencer. 

“I’m brave.” He told you with certainty. 

You felt as though you were stabbed in the chest as you closed the closest door, leaving him there. You heard another loud bang from downstairs, which caused you to move with more urgency - you had a large bookshelf, filled to the brim with books, beside the closet, and usually, it wouldn’t be something that you’d be able to move even an inch without help (or without unloading it, taking away the books first). But you moved to the side and pushed - and pushed with all your might, making it scrape across the floor until it was fully covering the closet door. 

Hearing more indiscernible shouts coming from downstairs, you moved with renewed determination toward your side table, ripping it open and grabbing the lockbox, putting in the code and grabbing your gun. 

When you made it to the bottom of the stairs on shaking legs, the sight before you utterly shocked you. 

… 

JJ didn’t think anything of it when her phone rang. 

The team was currently split up - Prentiss was at the end of your block, sitting in an unmarked car with one of the local police officers, looking out for anything suspicious as they watched over your house. And the rest of the team was following up on something - a few hours after the UnSub had sent the letter containing pictures of you, and the pictures of JJ and Reid at your doorstep, he had sent another letter. 

It was a set of photographs of a woman dead on her kitchen floor - a completely different woman, murdered, with the white carnations in a halo around her head, clearly killed by him. On the back of one of the photos it said ‘you lose’. 

The team panicked, thinking that he had picked another target because there had been too much police attention on you, but when they found out who the woman was, they realized that she had been murdered months ago - she was one of his first. It had just been another distraction to keep their attention off you. 

“Reid, hey-” JJ greeted, thinking that it was just Spencer calling to check in. 

“Hello?” 

She was shocked to hear a small, young voice on the other end. 

“Hey there.” She called back gently, instantly switching into ‘mom mode’. It took her only a moment to put it together - whose voice it was. “You must be Sebastian.” 

“My name is Sebastian.” He confirmed. “Are you Mommy’s friend JJ?” 

“Yes, I’m JJ.” She said. “Did you take Daddy’s phone?” 

She didn’t even consider it a slip-up - she didn’t think for a second that you and Spencer hadn’t yet told him that Spencer was his father. 

She thought that Sebastian had taken Spencer’s phone and was pressing buttons out of curiosity, and had simply dialed the last number that was in the call history by accident. 

“Mommy gave me the phone.” Sebastian told her. “She said to call for help. There’s a bad man in the house.” 

JJ’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. Her throat clenched up, and all at once, she felt an intense urgency. 

“Oh, okay.” She said, trying not to sound too panicked - trying not to alert Sebastian to her feelings, knowing she had to keep him calm. “Where are you, buddy?” 

She walked swiftly toward the conference room, knowing that she had to get Hotch to call Prentiss. She had no clue how the UnSub got into the house past Prentiss’s watchful eyes, but they had to get in there and help - now. 

“I’m hiding in the closet.” Sebastian told her. “Mommy told me too.” 

“That’s good.” JJ replied. “You stay there. I’m sending my friends to help you. My friend Emily is gonna come and get you, okay?” 

JJ waved Hotch down and he came to stand in front of her. 

She clasped her hand over the end of her phone before she spoke to him in a low, urgent voice. 

“I’ve got Y/N’s kid on the phone, he says that the UnSub is in the house. Get Prentiss in there now.” She told him. 

Hotch nodded and ran off to grab a landline off the hook in order to call them. 

“Is Mommy gonna get hurt?” He asked softly, clearly afraid of this possibility. 

JJ’s throat clenched tighter. 

“It’s gonna be okay.” She said, making a promise that she hoped she could keep. “I’ll stay on the phone with you until my friends get there, okay?” 

“I’m scared.” Sebastian whimpered. 

“She’s not picking up.” Hotch told JJ. “We’ve gotta go.” 

… 

About ten feet down from your house, in a perfect spot to view the front door, Prentiss and the local officer - a man named Bleu - were parked in an inconspicuous, FBI owned vehicle. One of the back windows was broken, and in the backseat was a canister letting out a dangerous vapor - one that knocked them both unconscious within seconds (an item that was typically used for military purposes). 

An annoying, digital chirping rang through the car as both of their phones chimed off, going unanswered as chaos continued inside the house. 

… 

You were shocked to see Spencer in the middle of the floor, straddling the unknown man - beating him to death. 

Spencer looked crazed, blood dripping down his face from his nose, a look of pure, homicidal rage in his eyes as he held the man by the front of his shirt, lifting his fist and committing blow after blow to his now very mangled face. There was a large gash on Spencer’s forearm from the fight, and the kitchen knife had been flung across the floor, but now, it seemed that the man was entirely defenseless as Spencer laid into him out of pure spite. 

The man was laying in a pool of his own blood, dripping from some wound you couldn’t see through the darkness - Spencer had done quite a number on him, and while you knew that you should have felt scared, all you felt was a flare of pride at his protectiveness and that lust from before dangerously creeping back in. 

“You think that you can just come into this house? Come into his house where my son and my wife sleep?” Spencer screamed, using the front of the man’s shirt to lift him up limply to scream even closer to his face. “Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?” 

My wife. 

He was taking ownership over you, protecting you. 

Because that emotional dam had just burst, and he was still so fragile, all of that love he had felt for you was molding into rage, and hatred toward this man. 

How dare he try to hurt you. 

He tossed another punch, and the man laughed. 

He was so badly beaten - you didn’t think that he was still conscious, let alone capable of speech. 

“You - you feel like a man, yet?” The man mocked him. “You keep-” He choked, sputtering on his own blood. “You keep playin’ at it, Daddy. Maybe one day you’ll be what she n-needs.” 

“He doesn’t have to play.” You said, cocking the gun and raising it toward the man. “He’s more of a man and a better father than you could ever be.” 

Spencer raised his hand to deliver another hit, and you spoke up again. 

“Spencer.” You said his name firmly, causing his muscles to freeze up. “It’s time to cuff him now. Your son is upstairs waiting for you.” 

You knew it was a choice for him. He could have easily let those darker instincts get a hold of him again - he could have given in to the urge to beat the man to death simply for thinking of hurting you. 

But you didn’t want that. Not because you thought the man deserved to live, but because you didn’t want a murderer for a future husband. 

Spencer stood up, walking over to you. 

“I have zip ties in my bag.” He told you, motioning over toward it. 

He took the gun from you, and when the man made a sluggish, concussed move for the knife, Spencer kicked him hard in the gut. 

“Don’t move!” He screamed. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this.” 

He let out another harsh, breathless laugh. 

“You - you let the bitch rule your life.” He continued to mock Spencer. “Talk about spineless and dickless, and-” 

Spencer kicked him again. 

You handed Spencer the zip ties and took back the gun, keeping it trained on the man as Spencer secured him. 

“I can assure you that he’s definitely not dickless.” You felt the need to add on. 

Spencer rolled his eyes at this, but you caught him suppressing a grin. 

You jumped when you heard a loud bang - someone knocking on the front door. 

“FBI! We have you surrounded!” A man’s voice, someone you didn’t recognize, screamed out. 

Spencer was quick to respond, his knee digging into the man’s back as he tightened the zip ties. 

“Hotch, we’ve got him down!” Spencer yelled back, apparently knowing the man’s name. “You don’t have to charge in, Y/N is gonna open the door!” 

Spencer nodded toward you, and you lowered the gun, still shaking as you moved to unlock the door. You opened it to find a stern faced man holding a gun, but the moment that he saw you - tear streaked, shaking, your clothes ruffled and your general appearance shaken - his expression instantly softened and he lowered his gun down to his side. 

“Miss, are you alright?” He asked, stepping in, looking around before he gave you a quick up-and-down glance, clearly inspecting you for injuries. 

“I’m fine.” You quickly blurted out. “Spencer’s in there.” You motioned back into the living room and then several people flooded into the house, and when you saw JJ again, you let out a sob of relief, and upon instinct, she pulled you into a tight hug. 

You clutched onto her tightly and she hugged you right back. 

After a moment, a bit too soon for you considering how shaken up you were feeling, she pulled away and held you by the shoulders. 

“Where’s Sebastian?” She asked you urgently. 

You grabbed her hand and turned to race up the stairs - while behind you, Spencer and Morgan hoisted the man off the ground and walked him outside to the squad car waiting to take him into holding - though he would likely need some medical attention along the way. While Hotch directed everyone around the house - the CSI team needed to collect evidence, making sure the scene was secure. And Rossi was outside making sure that Emily got into the ambulance okay as she drifted in and out of consciousness. 

“This isn’t over!” 

Naturally, the man was still in the mood to taunt. 

“One of these days, when-” 

“Shut it, scumbag.” Morgan ordered, shoving the man forward. “You lost. Get over it.” 

Spencer put his hand on the man’s head to ease him into the squad car, and then when he leaned in to fasten the seatbelt, he couldn’t hold back. 

“See, the most wonderful part of all this is,” He whispered lowly to the man. “Tonight, when I’m in bed with my beautiful wife,” He pressed. “When I’m balls deep inside of her perfect pussy - I’m not gonna be thinking of you. Not even for a second.” 

The man had a stern, sour scowl on his face. Spencer had truly won. 

He rose up and slammed the door, giving a knock on the hood of the car to let the driver know to take the man away. 

“Holy shit, pretty boy, what happened to your arm?” Morgan asked, letting out a low whistle of shock as he reached for Spencer’s wrist to further inspect the injury. 

“Knife.” Spencer mumbled, quickly snatching his arm back. 

He didn’t need to be herded into an ambulance right now - he needed to check on his son. 

Spencer quickly moved back toward the house, and Morgan naturally followed him. 

“A knife?!” He replied, clearly shocked. “You were stabbed?!” 

“I wasn’t stabbed.” Spencer spoke the words in a jolt over his shoulder, still charging forward, up the stairs. “It was more of a slash. It’s just a cut. It’s minor.” 

“‘It’s just a cut. It’s minor.’” Morgan repeated, mocking Spencer in a childish, whiny voice as he followed him up the stairs. “The man becomes a father and thinks he’s the Terminator all of a sudden.” 

Spencer passed Sebastian’s bedroom and glanced in, and didn’t see anyone - he heard a commotion of voice coming from the bedroom and rushed toward the sounds. 

He was surprised to see you and JJ standing on either side of a very large bookshelf, struggling to move it. The sight immediately confused him. 

“How the hell did you move this thing by yourself?” JJ grunted out, trying to push it backward with her whole body while you pulled on it. 

“What are you guys doing?” Spencer asked. 

“Sebastian is behind here.” You informed them, breathless from the effort of trying to move it without the hellish adrenaline rush pumping through you. “I moved it to hide him, in case-” You unintentionally huffed out another sob just thinking about what could have happened. 

Spencer rushed to pull you into his arms, and you collapsed against his hold. 

Somewhere muffled behind the thickness of the bookcase, there came: 

“Mommy, get me out of here!” 

You sobbed harder, thinking you had made a mistake, and JJ spoke up. 

“We’re coming, buddy! It’s okay!” 

“It’s just a bookcase.” Morgan chuckled. 

He stepped forward, expecting that he would be able to move it with ease. 

JJ stepped out of his way and Morgan put his shoulder against the side of the bookshelf, giving a shove. When it didn’t move after a moment, a look of intense shock fell over his face, and he looked at you in awe. 

“You moved this thing all by yourself?” Morgan gaped at you. “Damn, woman!” 

“Women have been known to lift cars off their children in life-threatening situations.” Spencer remarked, moving toward the bookcase and grabbing some of the books off it. “We have to take the books off.” He said to Morgan, incredibly snarky. 

“Take the books off.” JJ sighed. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

Being stupid from urgency - is what you wanted to say. 

But instead, you helped them unload the bookcase and place the books onto your bed, and when it was nearly empty, Spencer and Morgan managed to push it out of the way with ease. 

You rushed to open the closet door and Sebastian rushed out to see you as you fell to your knees, crumbling in front of him as the worry and anxiety and adrenaline crashed, causing your whole body to become weak and tired in an instant. 

“Mommy!” 

You held him tight in your arms as you sobbed and Spencer looked on with warmth in his heart and sadness in his eyes, feeling like he didn’t deserve to intrude on the moment. 

“Get over there, man.” Morgan told him quietly, giving him a nudge. “But when you come downstairs, you’re gettin’ your ass in that ambulance.” 

Spencer felt a tired weakness growing within him, and he couldn’t help but to walk forward and settle onto his knees beside you and Sebastian, huddled together in a tight hug, clutching onto each other. He put a protective hand on each of you, and leaned in, giving you a kiss on the forehead - and he couldn’t resist the urge to plant a gentle kiss on the top of Sebastian’s head as well. 

You managed to pry a shaking hand off of Sebastian, who still cuddled into your chest, and turn to Spencer, putting that hand on his shoulder - you leaned in then and kissed him on the mouth - sweet, gentle, loving. 

“Thank you.” You told, nearly breathless from tears. “You saved us. You protected us. I-” 

“You don’t have to thank me.” Spencer told me. “You know that I would do anything for both of you.” He declared, his voice beginning to shake as the emotions of it all truly hit him. 

“You got a boo-boo,” Sebastian said, his voice tired as he motioned to the blood still dripping from Spencer’s nose. 

The boy had finally unburied himself from your chest to look at Spencer, and clearly took great concern in the fact that he was hurt. 

“Oh, I’m okay, bud.” Spencer insisted, reaching up to wipe it. 

“Oh my god, Spencer, your arm!” You gasped - with Sebastian bringing attention to his injuries, you finally realized the full extent. His nose was bruising from being hit by the door, he had several scratches and bruises in other places, his knuckles were horribly bruises and bloodied from punching that man so many times, and most distractingly, there was a large gash on his arm - looking like a cut from a knife. “Spence, you have to get that checked out.” 

“I will.” He assured you. He couldn’t say no to you. 

He sighed and got up - knowing that he couldn’t delay his trip to the ambulance for too much longer. 

“Did you get the bad man?” Sebastian asked, looking up at Spencer with large, expectant eyes. 

“He did.” You assured him with a kiss on the forehead. “He got the bad man. He made sure that nobody was gonna hurt us.” 

With this realization, Sebastian tore out of your arms and ran toward Spencer, and Spencer instinctively leaned down again, picking him up to pull him into a hug. He feared getting blood on him - but that thought passed as soon as he felt the comfort of having his son tight in his arms. 

“You should stay forever.” Sebastian told him, intentionally quieter so that you might not hear. “No bad man could get us if you’re here.” 

Spencer felt a large lump rise up in his throat. 

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Ever.” He told him, giving him another tight squeeze before he put him down. “Go with your mom. I have to go get my… my boo-boo checked. Okay?” 

Sebastian nodded and ran back to you, and Spencer went to leave, before pausing. 

“You should probably get some things together. I doubt that you’re gonna be able to stay here tonight, and the CSI teams are gonna be coming in and out. They’ll probably pay for you to have a hotel room.” He informed you. 

“Will you stay with us?” You asked, your throat edging with anxiety once again. “Spence - I - I can’t sleep alone.” 

There was no way he could deny you. 

“Of course.” 

… 

Spencer went to the hospital, and you were taken to the police station for questioning. Not that you had done anything wrong, of course - the team just thought that you could fill in a few more details for them while Spencer (forcefully) got checked out. (And of course, he rushed to check up on Emily the minute that the doctors were done with him.) 

After running the suspect’s fingerprints, they were able to show you a mugshot, and you let out a horrified sob as you finally identified him. 

He was your neighbor. A man who had been living across the street from you for the last two months, at least. He had helped you carry in groceries before - he had seemed so friendly. You hadn’t recognized him laying on your living room floor in the dark, beaten and bloodied. But it was most definitely him. 

After a thorough search of your house and the house across from yours - one he had apparently been subletting from a retired couple who were off traveling, seeing the world during their golden years - crime scene techs turned up several important things. 

More than a dozen bugs. Microphones that he had planted everywhere in your home - apparently, he had broken in some time when you had been gone, and planted microphones in your house plants, your cupboards, your bedroom, and Sebastian’s bedroom. Which would explain the large notebook he had, detailing every single conversation that you and Spencer had since the moment that he had arrived - explaining all of the information that he knew about you and Spencer. There was also a large telescope, set up, pointed directly at your house. And a camera - and a large wall with far more pictures of you. 

There were also five other notebooks, and a scrapbook with photographs of his other victims. The back page of each of those books detailed where their orphaned children were, how they were doing since he had killed their mothers. 

Just as you were peaking in anxiety, Spencer returned from the hospital and stopped the interrogation. It was time for you and Sebastian to get some rest - some real rest. 

Spencer needed eleven stitches, and a splint for his nose. All in all - he had a concussion, severely fucked up knuckles, and two bruised ribs. 

That didn’t stop him from carrying his son to bed after he had fallen asleep in the back of one of the bureau’s SUVs. 

…

Spencer helped you into your hotel room, with you carrying the small overnight bags that you had packed for you and Sebastian and Spencer carrying Sebastian in his arms as he slept. Even with Spencer bruised and slightly battered, it was a peaceful, welcome sight. It looked like something that should have happened a thousand times before - the boy fit perfectly into his arms, that head of curls resting perfectly under his chin while Spencer supported him with an arm under his bum, and walked over to the nightstand, using his free hand to turn on the gentle yellow light of a lamp while you put down the bags and closed and locked the door behind you. 

Spencer began clumsily peeling back the covers with one hand and you rushed over to help him - rearranging the pillows and peeling back the covers so that he could place Sebastian gently in the bed. Once he did, you grabbed a blanket that belonged to him that you had brought from home and put that on him before Spencer pulled up the covers, and you handed him the plush toy that Spencer had bought him to put beside him. 

He stirred slightly, but for the most part - he was so exhausted that he didn’t move or wake up. 

Spencer took a moment to watch him and you didn’t disrupt. 

You knew this was a moment you had missed - many parents watched over their newborn sleeping in the crib days after bringing them home from the hospital, and this was that moment for the both of you now. 

After a prolonged silence, Spencer cleared his throat and stepped away - you expected him to go toward the bathroom to freshen up before bed or something like that, but instead: 

“This door goes to my room.” He said, keeping his voice quiet so as to not wake Sebastian, motioning to a door that you were just now realizing was there - clearly adjoining the rooms for people who knew each other but didn’t want to sleep in the same room. And it had a lock on it for the sake of privacy. “Just knock if you need anything.” 

This made your insides crash with disappointment. You thought that you had made yourself pretty clear when you said - ‘I can’t sleep alone’. 

You and Spencer were supposed to be sleeping in the same bed. He was supposed to stay right there with you; even if that man who had intended to kill you was in police custody, you still had that feeling of anxiety looming over you. You still needed Spencer nearby to make you feel safe. A giant wall separating the two of you just wasn’t going to do that. 

“Separate rooms?” You squeaked out. 

“Yeah.” He replied. “I thought it would make you feel more comfortable.” 

More comfortable. 

Against your better instincts, you nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” 

Spencer gave you a smile, and then, his body stuttering awkwardly, he leaned in and gave you a kiss on the cheek. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said quietly. 

“Goodnight, Spence.” 

He moved across the room and unlocked the door and moved into his own room, and when he closed it behind him, you heard the click of the lock on the other side - him putting up a very clear barrier between the two of you. 

Somehow, after everything the two of you had talked about - he still didn’t get it. 

You glanced at Sebastian, who was in a deep sleep, and then looked over at the door. 

You knew that he would be fine on his own for a little while. He would likely sleep well for the next few hours, and if he woke up and yelled out for you, you would hear him. So you walked up to the door, and after hesitating for a fraction for a second - you knocked. 

… 

Spencer answered the door. 

“Can I come in?” 

Naturally, he looked past you to Sebastian’s sleeping body. 

“He’ll be fine on his own for a little while.” You told him, already knowing what he was thinking. “I just wanted to talk. Ya know - grown-up time.” 

Secretly, deep down, you were hoping for the double entendre to actually pay off this time. 

“Just a few minutes.” Spencer replied. “Then you need to get some rest.” 

You wanted to scoff at this. But you knew that it was out of caring. 

“How’s the arm doing?” You asked as Spencer gently closed the door behind you. 

“Ten stitches, no big deal.” He replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“No big deal?” You scoffed. “I remember a time when you used to freak out and cry over a paper cut, Spence.” You giggled gently. “You used to make me kiss it and put a band-aid on it for you.” 

Mentally, you were brought back to the nights when you and Spencer would have ‘reading dates’. You would each bring a book for the other person, something you thought the other person would like or something you were excited for them to read, and then you would sit curled up under a large blanket on Spencer’s couch, both reading in tandem, only breaking the peaceful silence to discuss a particular interesting passage or to compliment the other person’s choice in some way. 

This was a time when something like a paper cut was the most dangerous threat to your lives. 

Oh, how times change. 

“Maybe it was just an excuse to get a kiss from you.” Spencer said, all cheek - he looked at you through his lashes as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, having already shed his tie and his top buttons - and the full power of those schoolgirl butterflies would have been ignited by this look, if not for- 

“Your knuckles.” You gasped, suddenly spotting the bright red abrasions, the obnoxious bruising that was starting to form on his dominant hand. 

“Oh, ah - I’m fine.” Spencer lied, moving the hand in front of his own eyes to look, suddenly realizing how bad it was for himself. 

Upon instinct, you stepped forward, and took his hand into the gentle grasp of your own. Without a word, operating entirely on the ghost of your own need - you lifted that hand up to your lips, and kissed across this knuckles, feather-light - a silent ‘thank you’ for all he had done for you. A moment of gratitude for his service in defeating the monster who had entered your home. 

When you caught his eye again, you saw nothing but pure lust swimming there. 

He pulled you into his lap, and the kiss - it was nothing but pure, burning fire. 

… 

Spencer kissed along your stomach, from one hip to the other - he stopped along the way to draw gentle, appreciative licks along the stretch marks. 

“No cesarean scar.” He noted, mumbling against your skin. 

“I had him naturally.” You noted. “So… things might be a bit of a mess down there.” You chuckled awkwardly, still feeling self conscious. 

It was one of the reasons you hadn’t brought anyone into your bed since the break-up with Spencer. You had been self conscious of your postpartum body. You had heard horror stories from other mothers that you interacted with at daycare or the park (especially the married ones) about how their husbands just didn’t see them the same way after giving birth, about how all the romance and sex fizzled out after they had their child, and how any other children in the marriage were thanks to porn or toys ‘getting their husbands going’. 

You really didn’t need to bring a man into your bed just to laugh at you. Inviting someone into an intimate moment just to have them mock you - that would have broken you. You couldn’t risk a relapse of your eating disorder because of it - not when Sebastian needed you strong and healthy. 

“Hmm, no.” Spencer said, fully confident. 

He pulled away slightly, taking a glance down at your glistening cunt, and for good measure, his inquiring eyes making you feel naked as he inspected you, giving you the urge to close your legs - he ran his fingers along the needy, slightly swollen lips of your pussy as you puffed up with blood in anticipation of him, and he dipped his fingertips inside, making you moan. 

“Your pussy is still fucking perfect.” He told you. “Just how I left it. You can’t even tell I put a baby in here.” 

He wanted to add on: ‘Seems like I should change that.’ - But he didn’t want to push his luck. 

That got you - and your legs involuntarily flinched, your thighs closing around his hand, causing him to give a cocky smirk. 

“How long were you in labor for?” He asked, suddenly curious. 

You found it to be a bit of an odd question to ask, especially while his fingers - two of them - ventured deeper into your wet hole. 

But you indulged him nonetheless. 

“Sixteen hours.” You told him. “No pain medication.” 

You had been more afraid of the needle for the epidural than facing the pain. (You probably would have been brave enough to get it with Spencer there holding your hand, but… oh well.) 

Later on, Spencer would get you to recount every moment of the pregnancy, and the labor of the delivery to him in detail. As much of it as you could remember - because he couldn’t be there for it, and he wanted as much of it as possible in mind. And again, you would indulge him - because you thought that he deserved to take in as much of what he had missed as possible. 

“Fuck.” He sighed, in awe of you. He ran his free hand up your body, over your stomach, the place where his son had once grown and taken nourishment from your body as he developed, appreciating every inch of you as he moved to grab your breast. “You are a fucking warrior, aren’t you?” 

The pure passion behind his words in that moment made you even wetter. 

Spencer expelled every single one of your insecurities - he didn’t find you less attractive because your body wasn’t like it used to be. He found you even more grand and alluring. He found you more impressive, more beautiful than ever. 

… 

Not much later, Spencer’s cock was deep inside of you. 

Neither of you had even thought of a condom - you couldn’t have been expecting this interaction, not for a moment, so neither of you had one in waiting. You had been off your birth control for months - you weren’t dating, and you found that the side effects weren’t agreeing with you, so you simply stopped taking the pill. 

So as Spencer’s hips clashed against your inner thighs while you laid on your back in the middle of that hotel bed, both of you could only think of one beautifully selfish thing. 

“Please, please, please!” You chanted, not daring to speak it aloud, but begging him for it, hoping that he would get the message from such few words. 

He drove his cock into you with an even deeper urgency, whining deep in his chest as your perfect cunt dripping around him in hot waves, and whether it was your body writing him love letters or your mouth delivering him that sacred message in code, there was only one possible thought thumping between his ears. 

“Let - let me,” He choked out brokenly. “Let me give you another one.” He grunted out, tonguing along your breast, feeling so beautifully bathed in the heat coming off your body. “Please! Oh, please let me put another baby in you!” 

How could this not be the perfect victory? 

“Yes!” You gasped out, locking your legs behind his back, causing a straining pain against your ribs where you had landed so hard on the stairs - but not daring to let him go, not letting him pull out. Not letting him have second thoughts. “Please! Oh god, yes!” 

That was all Spencer needed. 

He choked a groan into your chest and a moment later he was cumming deep inside of you - flooding the both of you with epic satisfaction, and the underlying comfort that you would be tied together forever. The comfort that no one was leaving this time. 

…

You only rested for a moment after Spencer pulled out of you. Then, you were reaching for your clothes, knowing that Sebastian was in the other room - and he couldn’t wake up alone. 

After you pulled on your shirt, you reached behind you and slapped Spencer’s bare thigh, making him jump slightly. 

“Get some PJs.” You told him. “I told you, I’m not sleeping alone.” 

Spencer grinned to himself. 

He couldn’t help but to lay back and watch your bareness in the low light as you got up off the bed, searching for your underwear. He would get up in a minute. The soreness was truly setting into his body now - he needed a minute to truly motivate himself into getting up. 

“I do have to ask,” He said, his voice low. “Why Sebastian?” 

You chuckled at this. 

“Please tell me it’s not because of that lobster from that movie you liked as a kid,” He added on. 

“Okay, if you’re talking about The Little Mermaid, he’s a crab.” You replied, slightly snarky, glancing over your shoulder at him as you stepped into your underwear. “And no, that’s just a coincidence. Sebastian’s name comes from… our first date.” You corrected him. “I kept thinking about the music… the way you looked at me. And I didn’t want my son to be named Johann - it didn’t seem to suit him.” 

Spencer imagined you sitting in the hospital, staring at the wrinkly newborn, wondering what his name would be with Joy of Man’s Desiring running through your mind.  

…

Spencer spent a peaceful night with his son. 

When Emily was released from the hospital, the team packed up to go home on the jet, and Spencer got clearance for you and Sebastian to go with them - you couldn’t stay in the home that was still technically a crime scene, and you would rather stay in Spencer’s cramped apartment for a few weeks while everything was being sorted out than be apart again. 

During that jet ride, Morgan called Spencer ‘Daddy’, as a joke - and when you looked at Sebastian wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights, he lit up like a Christmas tree and then loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen (which turned out to be everyone on the flight, someone who happened to be in the hangar, Penelope - who had rushed to meet Sebastian, the cab driver on the ride home, and the take out delivery person later that night) - that he was going to sleepover at his Daddy’s house. And he was very excited about it. 

It was a tentative start - but you were a family now. 

… 

SIX MONTHS LATER

Spencer was still adjusting to his ‘new life’ - in the best way possible. 

On the days he could, he took his paperwork home with him, and tore out of the office at the speed of sound, rushing to get home to you and his son as fast as he could - eager to spend as much time with the both of you as possible. On this particular day, he was able to shove a handful of files into his bag to be attended to after you and Sebastian were asleep, rushing out in time to pick up Sebastian from his new babysitter. 

Sebastian went to the babysitter four days a week, giving you time to relax and attend to your work, and three days a week he had a tutor who came to the house to work with him independently. Other days, Spencer would work with him to teach him subjects that he was interested in - they would plan special outings to invest more time into learning the subjects that he wanted to know. They spent a lot of time at the natural history museum - some of the employees there were starting to know them by name (especially people who worked at the dinosaur exhibits). 

When Spencer arrived at the babysitter’s house, Sebastian and the babysitter, Alex, were waiting for him eagerly by the fence while the other two children who had yet to be picked up played in the fenced-off front yard. Having Sebastian run into his arms and hug him so tightly when he knelt down to receive that hug - it was still by far, one of the best parts of his day. It felt like something that awakened his soul - something that gave him more energy than coffee ever could. 

“Daddy!” 

“Hey, buddy.” Spencer grinned. “How are you doing? What did you do today?” 

“Today we made crafts and we played Simon Says - who is Simon anyway? Is that game named after Simon Barere? Did he get a game after him because he played the piano so good? Oh and-” 

“Hey, hey, take a breath.” Spencer chuckled, amused by how fast Sebastian was speaking - so excited to tell Spencer about everything he had done that his words were fusing into one long syllable. 

“I missed you.” Sebastian smiled. 

Spencer gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I missed you too.” 

Spencer raised to his full height and took Sebastian’s backpack from Alex, who then drew his attention to a piece of large white craft paper - seemingly the art activity from the day. 

“He drew this,” Alex’s expression was half-amused, half-concerned. 

Spencer quickly knew why. “Oh… well. I’ll show his mother.” He chuckled. 

Spencer packed Sebastian into the car, buckling him into his carseat, and with Seb shouting at him through the rearview mirror, he got the full rundown of the day on their drive home. He was content and gleeful by the time his key was turning the lock to the front door - Sebastian running in through the gap when he barely had the door open with his hands full, screaming at the top of his lungs, looking for you. 

“Mommy! Mommy?! We’re home!” 

“I’m in here, Seb!” 

You were calling from a room near the back of the house - what would be your and Spencer’s shared office. A room that was still packed full of boxes - deemed unimportant and low priority to unpack from the move. 

“What are you doing?” Spencer hollered back, kicking the front door closed and dropping everything on a side table near the front door - temporarily forgetting about the picture that Sebastian had drawn in favor of seeking you out. 

He was displeased to find you among the sea of boxes, your arms full with a heavy one as you heaved it aside. 

“I, just - I was looking for something.” You grunted out. 

Sebastian was already diving into one of the open boxes behind you - seemingly looking for something to interest him among the sea of books that you and Spencer had combined there. 

Spencer rushed to take the box from you, not faring much better with it himself (Morgan had helped him move most of these - filled with books, into the room in the first place) - but he heaved it onto the top of another pile and then quickly moved to cradle a hand across your stomach, a bitterly protective mood coming over him. 

You were four months along in your pregnancy, and Spencer was already of the belief that the growing resident in your stomach meant you had to be coddled to the utmost degree. 

“Come on, you shouldn’t be lifting anything.” He chastised you sharply. 

“I’m fine,” You replied. “When I was pregnant with Seb I did yoga and spin classes right up until I gave birth. This is nothing.” 

“Yeah, but that’s exercise. You don’t need to strain yourself lifting heavy boxes, you-” 

Spencer’s words were cut off when Sebastian spoke up, opening up a new line of conversation. 

“Can I have this?” He asked brightly. 

You turned to see him holding up a very thick book. You grabbed it from him gently, wanting to make sure it wasn’t one of Spencer’s books about murder cases or true crime - The American Guide to Constellations. You gave a soft smile. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You said, giving it back to him. 

He cheered excitedly and ran off with the book, likely taking it to the large arm chair in the living room to read. 

You reached out, going to grab another box to move it - and Spencer put his arm on top of the box, shoving it down. 

“Excuse me,” You said sharply, glaring at him. 

“What is so important?” He asked. 

“I’ll tell you when I find it.” You replied. 

He locked his jaw and stared you down, clearly waiting for a real answer. 

“Look… those crime scene techs were tearing up my place, and… the move was so sudden… I just wanna make sure I didn’t lose it. And if I did lose it, I don’t wanna disappoint you.” 

“Why would you disappoint me?” He asked. 

“Just help me move this box.” You grunted back. 

Spencer sighed, as usual - acquiescing to your wishes. 

He struggled with the box you had motioned to, and while he found a place to put it, you opened up the box underneath it and sighed with relief when you pulled out a familiar looking shoebox - you struggled past a few objects inside. Old movie tickets, tickets stubs from the orchestra that you had kept, and Spencer looked over your shoulder with careful eyes for a moment, realization coming into his mind. 

It was a time capsule of your relationship. Love letters he had written to you and left in books he had borrowed from you, a bowtie he had worn on a date and forgotten at your place after a particularly epic romp, a picture that he had drawn for you on a napkin while waiting for your food to arrive at a restaurant. And then - 

“I really need to get this framed.” You noted, taking the certificate for the star he had gotten you out of the bottom of the box. 

He felt it surge through him, just as fresh as he had felt it that night - that epic passion, that love for you, threatening to swallow him whole. Except now, he had it all. He had the house, the family he had been planning that whole time. 

His life truly felt complete. 

He couldn’t help it when he reached out and gently grasped your chin, pulling you in for a kiss, which you eagerly returned. 

“Mommy, I made you a picture!” Sebastian called out, appearing in the doorway now, brandishing the drawing he had made - a lucky reminder of what Spencer had intended to show you. 

You place down the certificate in the shoebox, hopefully to remember to bring it to some place to get it framed later - and you bent down at the waist to see what Sebastian had as crossed the room toward you. 

“Oh, let me have a look.” You said, smiling at him. 

As you took the picture, your face got that same expression - partly amused, partly confused as you took in the bizarre photo. Spencer watched over your shoulder, looking at the picture again. 

It was an almost typical child-like drawing. Very colorful, crayons - a view of the new house, with stick figures labeled ‘Daddy, Me, and Mommy’ - except the one depicting you had a very round stomach, a long line clearly meant to be an umbilical cord spiraling out to a very alien-like realistic fetus that was labeled ‘Baby’. The two of you had been showing Sebastian baby-rearing books to get him mentally prepared for having a sibling, because you knew that he was smart enough to know and understand the (age appropriate) basics of pregnancy, and he understood eagerly that the baby in your belly would eventually be his new sibling. 

And apparently - that translated to drawing it. 

“Oh wow.” You said, trying to hide your shock at your son’s very intelligent, bizarre drawing. “Very beautiful.” 

“I hope the baby likes my picture.” Sebastian said, smiling up at you. 

“I’m sure the baby will love all your pictures.” You told him, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. 

“You’re gonna be a great big brother,” Spencer told him. “And good big brothers wash their hands so they can help with dinner,” 

Sebastian nodded at this, and ran off toward the bathroom - clearly wanting to comply with this task. 

“Maybe I should get this one framed too.” You chuckled as you stood up to your full height. 

Spencer let out a laugh too. “I think it’s good. It shows he has a good comprehension of everything we’ve been telling him. And he’s excited to have a sibling. He doesn’t have any underlying jealousy, or-” 

You were hit with a sudden wave of nausea. “Do you think he’s in the downstairs bathroom?” 

You didn’t wait for an answer before you rushed out of the room. Spencer placed the star certificate in with his files, reminding himself to have it framed for you after work the next day, and then he went to the kitchen to wash up and start dinner. Soon, Sebastian joined him, eager to help wash vegetables and help stir pots while you were otherwise occupied. 

Even though you currently had your head in a toilet - things in life were definitely looking up. 

THE END

...

A/N: I want everyone to know that I have been feeling incredibly conflicted about this story. The original 'production' (so to speak) of this fic was disrupted by something in my personal life that left me feeling really emotional distraught, so the ending was kind of fucked from the start.

If you know me well or if you've been following me for a long time, you know that most of my multichapter fics are fics that were intended to be oneshots. Those fics are usually written within a one month period and then they are edited and posted the next month, so that way I don't lose momentum on a fic. If I don't do it that way, then I end up losing interest in a fic or getting Stage Fright and getting protective over a story when people actually see it. And if I get Stage Fright, it makes me want to just stop writing a story or delete it, even if people are enjoying reading it - I get very self conscious of a story I once enjoyed and was once really passionate about.

This fic was intended to be written within one month, but because that was disrupted, the ending was left unfinished. I kept convincing myself that I was going to do the full ending that I had plotted out - but when the more pivotal parts of the story began to unfold, I got Stage Fright, and I became far too protective of this story. Between several comments I have gotten (not just from one person); comments that have scared me back into my creative shell with this story in particular. And me believing that what happens in this particular chapter is not going to go over well because it's not a very cathartic, satisfying climax (it's meant to be an emotionally healing moment for the characters, not a cheering section moment for the audience) - and my own mental hang-ups, the original ending I had planned just will not come to fruition. And that ending did involve showing off more of Spencer's personal relationships, and a lot more fan service - like Sebastian meeting other members of the team for the first time. So anyway - have this shitty, rushed ending, because I just need this story off my plate, because it's not fun for me anymore!!!

Anyway - comment and reblog if you want, but I totally understand if this is not worthy of that lmao. I do not regard this as one of my better stories, not by far. (This would have been better off as a 20k oneshot, easily forgotten and finished in a few days.)

[screampied]

hey vegas, there’s a random blog talking about your cai acc and saying how they “exposed you.” no idea what they’re pulling out of their ass, but i thought you should know :(

I LITERALLY DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO ?? ya i know ab the blog. i’ve had them blocked bc it’s apparent they’re stalking every time i post since i called them out last time. they pulled this thing out of their ass to ‘expose’ me and their only proof is a screenshot of some random account that could be ANYONE. they’ve been harassing me since june ab this bullshit ab how i apparently have some cai account and how im this person im literally not. i don’t have a cai account. and im almost sure out of the few hate anons (2) i got a month ago when this started, its from them ab this situation . i’ve been out all day but eh . im just gonna show PROOF i actually write my shit bc i’m tired of this and addressing it over and overrrr.

this was an idea OF MY OWN i wrote for a sukuna angst drabble i did. whenever i think of ideas for angst / fluff i usually jot it down to expand + elaborate later. i posted this four hours later on the same day — june 22, 2024

the account also said apparently the account got deleted and i used rockstar geto instead of rockstar gojo ??? okay ???? what does that have to do with me. do you know how many repeated tropes & plots there are in fiction. just because i wrote for for rockstar geto doesn’t mean wtv they’re talking ab. i literally got inspired from this gorgeous fanart about two three weeks ago. not some bot, im literally lost at their thought process

also, the hate anon that i’m assuming was from them was talkin ab how apparently i use cai because im a fast writer and a bunch of other stuff that makes me also assume it’s a writer or an ex moot of mine. again, makes no sense. there’s slow writers, there’s fast writers. it depends on my motivation, and plus half of my drafts already are outlined + structured. i do that to pace myself, that way when i get motivated to finish it i can post. why do i even have to explain this 😭

but here’s a actual 4K VIDEO of me tying a short nanami drabble on notes app. i didn’t switch out of any apps or anything. LOOK

yeah i’m sorry ab this to everyone though 😭 you all are here to read my work not see this meaningless discourse. i genuinely don’t get what this person wants with me, this is a fun pastime hobby for me and i literally don’t bother anyone. it’s clear they want me to deactivate all bc of this silly bullshit which is so childish. to you, because i know you’re seeing this, leave me alone. i’m not the person you keep accusing me of and i write with all ten fingers.

pay them no mind, just block / report @exposing-blogs. they clearly want attention and i gave it to them, again. but after this i’m not gonna feed into this again bc for what? if i do, i apologize bc again this must be so annoying for anyone who wants to read my work ‘n stumbles upon this bc it’s really not needed. but i’m over it. i just showed actual proof i write my work soooo yeah. they’re lying and just ignore anything they say

[simpforboys]

I have a Xavier request. I dunno if it’s been done (plus its a little cringe and a little cliche) but the ideas been stuck in my head for days - partially inspired by rose “paint me like one of your French girls” scene in titanic. Xavier asks to paint her nude or she asks. It can lead to anything I just need the idea out of my head. Another idea I had that could be linked or seperate is a reader with wings and Xavier is just like obsessed

By the way I love your work. Your JJ stuff too (goodness me) -

Anon 🐣

(Ps: have a high five 🖐️, m not keen on hugs)

my angel

xavier thorpe x fem!reader

summary: you want xavier to draw you… nude.

warnings: mentions of smut, no real smut, nudity, YOU HAVE WINGS!!!! (i pictured angel wings but go with whatever u want bae) xavier is in love with you

im combining this because omg imagine xavier drawing you and hes just obsessed with your wings and body… anyways imma get writing

initially, when you approached xavier about the idea of doing a portrait of you, he loved it.

considering he had done many sketches of your beautiful face, it should be easy.

but then you clarified what you meant.

“can you draw me like one of your french girls, xavier?” you mimicked rose from the movie, titantic.

you leaned against your boyfriend, your wings wrapping around him enough to make him flustered.

he spun around in his stool, his eyes full of admiration. he put his hands on your waist and brought you closer.

“you know i always draw you, baby.” xavier told you, referring to the multiple portraits he had done of you.

“what if i want you do draw me with my wings? with only my wings…” you trailed off. the look you gave xavier was suggestive and he couldn’t help but feel excitement.

so now, as you stood in front of xavier in nothing but a robe in the center of his dorm, he couldn’t help but feel flustered.

“where do you want me, baby?” you teased, seeing your boyfriend blush.

“how about you lay on the bed.” xavier grabbed a chair and brought it over. he watched as you gracefully dropped the robe before laying down.

his eyes roamed your naked body. he had seen it numerous times before, but for some reason this seemed more intimate.

“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” xavier whispered as he began to sketch.

you grinned at your boyfriend. he always made you feel special.

the focus look on his face as he drew you was enough to make you flustered. being so vulnerable while he memorized every part of you was intimidating.

“relax, baby. your wings are moving.”

xavier knew when you got flustered or embarrassed your wings would tend to show your emotions more than your face.

for instance, your wings had began to scrunch together instead of being fully displayed.

that’s one of the things xavier loved most about you. the way he could always tell how you felt by your wings.

he loved everything about you. he was quite literally smitten by you, ever since he first saw you.

you were never scared to be yourself.

xavier finally finished your face when he began to draw your boobs. the memories of him leaving hickies, kissing them, sucking them made xavier blush.

“what’s got you blushing, pretty boy?”

“you.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you laughed.

“you don’t need to. everything about you would make me blush.”

you couldn’t help but feel your own face warm up, wings clamping together slightly.

“babe.”

“sorry!”

➽─────────────────❥

“are you almost done? i’m half asleep over here.”

xavier laughed at your comment. he was just finishing the details on your wings, leg bouncing in anticipation.

what if you hated it?

“come look.”

you stood up from the bed, sleep in your eyes as you put on one of xavier’s shirts.

you sat on his lap as he showed you the drawing. your face turned in admiration as xavier watched your eyes light up.

“oh my god, it’s so pretty. like a renaissance portrait.”

xavier grinned, his big hands rubbing your bare thighs. “my angel, huh?”

you smiled, kissing your boyfriend.

“your angel.”