#I had to get this of my chest tgo

[let-the-living-beware]

Here is a little rant from me :')

The more I look at my Oc's the more I hate them, the more I hate my writing. I have like 20 drafts ready to go with long as fics but I can't seem to publish them. I always wanted to write and include my own character, heck even write my own book but the more I get to that finish line, the more I don't wanna do it anymore. I see all of these amazing artist on here, especially in the DL community, with great art and even greater Oc's. And the more I see them the more I...hate mine ig.

I just feel like that Laiko/Cora (my most fleshed out Oc's) are just not right and to basic. Like they are something everyone already did and they don't have any right to be there in the first place. It's like I am looking at them and I see their flaws and I am afraid. I wanted to introduce them properly but I can't with how mich I change every second. I have so many ideas but they all seem basic, like I am as a human being worth nothing and so are the things I am passionate about. It just... Its complicated and maybe I should just show it with an example?

Here is Laiko for example. Laiko was send to the Tsukinami to end a political "war" between her race and the founders but she doesn't really want that the more she grows up and makes herself useful as a spy in the war against Karl. After they found out that she had connections to Cora (Karls sister), they accuse her of treason and she has to flee right before the founders get sealed away. When she finally came back to her parents, her father didn't see her as his daughter because she was the product from an affair and she got used as a sort of Guinea pig for an experiment. Long said short she got transported into a different body that was a hybrid of her race and the founders.

This is the short version and I hate EVERYTHING about it. Nothing besides the treason part really was traumatic so it isn't like "put a bunch of trauma into that character" and even the experiment wasn't like forced on her it was on her free will she just didn't like the outcome of her new body. But I still don't like it and think it is to cliche, like something everyone already did (not that that's a bad thing) and I am just copy pasting anoth character from another story, from someone who is better than me. The other thing is also the new race part. This fantasy race of mine is something I have since I was like 8 years old and I wanted to put them into a story for like forever but now that I did it, it feels wrong. It is an AU and the rules can be a bit different of course but I feel bad about it.

I feel bad about writing Fanfics in general when I really think about it. I feel bad about writing characters that don't belong to me and even belong to me but I wanna write. I just feel like I don't have the right, like I am...how shall I put it? I am not good enough.

[sstarfruitt]

hi! Could I please request something where reader gets some bad news about a family member and Roman Craig or Elwood blues tries to comfort and cheer up reader? Sfw or nsfw is up to you. Thank you! ❤️ (I love your fics and have been rereading the last one I requested so thank you again for that one and keep up the good work!)

If You Think So, Baby

Roman Craig X Reader (SFW)

Hey, so I’m gonna write this under a head canon that allows for the romantic shipping. Roman’s wife divorced him not long after the events of TGO. Since then, he’s been getting back on his feet and been trying to be a better man, and met Reader in the process. Lightly inspired by fics from my homie psychokinetic-ectoplasm :)

"Hi, Baby!"

“Hi, Roman.”

Roman dropped his big grin almost immediately, seeing the tired look in your eyes. He stepped aside and let you step into his place, watching you with a furrowed brow. “Sweetheart, is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it in a minute,” you answered with a sigh.

“Oh, uh…” Roman shifted on his feet nervously as he closed the door and followed you to the kitchen. He’d never really been in a situation like this before, and he wasn’t really sure what to do. “Well, uh, are you hungry? Need anything? Y’know, I’ve got sodas, tea, I-”

“Some water would be great,” you answered quietly. Instantly, he went the cupboard, pulled out a glass, and poured some water in. He placed in front of you gingerly, watching you with wide eyes.

“Thanks,” you said softly as you took the glass. He stepped back and leaned against the fridge, crossing his arms nervously as you sipped the water. He again shifted, his lips pursed tightly.

“So, uh…” he started with a nervous chuckle. “What’s… what’s wrong?”

“I got some bad news,” you started quietly. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to him. “About a family member.”

“Oh, Sweetheart…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning over the paper, his brows knitted worriedly. Eventually, he lifted his gaze to look at you. For a moment, he hesitated, but he stepped forward and set a hand on your back. “I’m sorry. This must be horrible for you. Y’know, maybe I could see if I can get my hands on some cash to help, maybe-“

He was cut off by you hugging him tightly. For a moment, he just stiffened into the hug, unsure of what to do, but then he heard you sniffle. “Don’t talk about cash right now, Roman.”

“Sorry,” he answered quietly. After a moment, he nervously put his arms around you, squeezing you softly. Upon hearing you sniffle again, he reached up with one hand and buried his fingers in your hair, holding your head to his chest.

“Can I stay the night?” you rasped weakly.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I kicked you out?” he said, smiling softly for a moment. But his smile faded quickly as he squeezed you closer. “Hey, Sweetheart…”

He pulled back after speaking to look at you. You were a mess, and clearly exhausted.

“How about you get some rest? My bed’s all yours, if you want it,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft.

“That sounds good, Roman, thanks,” you respond quietly.

“C’mon, Sweetheart. Bring your water,” he answers, taking your hand and leading you off to his bedroom. You pad down the hall after him silently, still clutching your drink. You soon find yourself standing before his bed with him. You’d never actually been in his bedroom before- it was simple, as he had to sell off a lot of his things after he lost his money. But with a few fluffy pillows and a warm lamp among the things he had left… it was cozy.

“You can sleep here,” he started. “Don’t worry about making a mess. Do whatever you want to be comfortable. Just call me if you need anything. I’ll, uh… I’ll take the couch, I guess. Give you some space,” he said as he turned to leave.

“No, Roman,” you exclaimed, catching his hand again. He turned back toward you, smiling nervously.

“Well, hey, if YOU want the couch…” he joked nervously.

“Can you stay here with me? I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“Oh, uh… Sure.”

At that, you hugged him softly again. He responded by putting an arm around your shoulders. “Aw, Sweetheart,” he continued.

“I love you, Roman. You’re a better boyfriend than you think you are.”

“If you think so, Baby.”

“I mean it.”

“…Thanks. I try. Now, let’s get you in bed.”

You let him bring you to the bedside and pull aside the sheets, and watch you kick off your shoes and climb in. “You know, I have pajamas you can borrow,” he continued as he pushed the water you left on the table closer to you.

“I’m okay.”

There were a couple more moments of silence, before he spoke again: “You SURE you want me to stay?”

“Yes, Roman,” you said with a breathless giggle. God, you didn’t think you’d be able to laugh today.

You watched as he kicked his clothes off to change into pajamas, and rolled to face him as he climbed under the covers beside you. Once he settled in, you scooted closer to cuddle into his chest, sighing exhaustedly. Slowly, his arm wrapped around you, squeezing you to his body.

“Go to sleep,” he said softly. “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow, I promise.”

“Mm,” you responded quietly. Already, your body relaxed against his, soaking in the warmth of his chest. It wasn’t long until you drifted off in his arms.

Afterwards, that night always stood out in your memory. The night he proved your words, easing your mind with his presence and bringing you a moment of peace in that difficult moment. Roman isn’t perfect- but he gives you his all.

[angelhotchner]

hi! can you do a hotch x reader imagine in which hotch cheats on the reader with beth and a few years later the reader and him bump into eachother and rekindle? i don’t think hotch would ever cheat but i’m in the mood for something that’s full angst but fluff at the end! btw the reader is fem :)! thank youuu

hello! I'm so sorry that this took so long, I've been focusing a lot of my attention to prompt Sunday and TGOS :( also, i got shadow-banned and ended up being unable to post anything for while. but i love a good angst fic, I hope you enjoy this [well as much as someone can enjoy angst] Also, I know you asked for fem!reader and I wrote it with fem in mind, but there's actually no gendering in the text at all.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader Contains: Adult Language, Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Cheating CM Timeline: AU doesn't exist within timeline. Word Count: 1.8K

Masterlist

Rekindle

The day that Aaron Hotchner broke your heart was a Thursday. He was away on a case and apparently his location was a difficult place for cell service - whether that was completely true, you didn't know. What you do know was that the iMessages that you saw later that night proved that he had some kind of WiFi. Just not enough for you.

He'd been careless - forgotten that you'd be using his MacBook that night, like always, to FaceTime with your mom. The FaceTime call never happened, as the message notifications distracted you from everything else in the world as they reared their ugly heads in the top right corner of the screen.

Beth So you owe me dinner when you get back.

Beth I'll save you some dessert.

Beth: I miss you, too.

Beth: I can't wait until you're back in my bed ;)

The first two messages caught your attention, but your brain didn't register them as red flags. He went for dinners often, work purposes - so you assumed that Beth was some agent or prosecutor or something. It was only when the fourth message pinged that you realised. This wasn't work related. You didn't give a fuck if it was a distrusting thing to do. You opened the messages app on the laptop and read Aaron's texts as well as hers, and scrolled back to read conversations that you never knew about. You felt numb, heard white noise rumbling in your ear drums as your eye-sight darkened - the brightness of the screen was the only thing that you could see. You couldn't even cry as you read the messages over and over again until you memorised them, hearing them in his voice in your head.

Aaron: I like the sound of that.

Aaron: I'll pick you up when I have the spare time. I hope it'll be soon.

Aaron: I wish you were here in this bed with me.

Aaron: I never sleep during a case anyway, it makes no difference if you're here ;)

You couldn't say how long you'd stared at the damn screen. Everything became a blur as you gathered screenshots of the infidelity and emailed them to yourself. Closing the laptop, your face expressionless as you held it above your head before bringing it crashing down onto the wooden floor of the living room, watching the screen and keyboard snap away into two parts. You left the mess there.

You were gone when he came home. You'd packed a bag and fucked off to some dingy motel for the time being, unable to stay in that house: that house where every photo on the wall; every piece of furniture and every lick of paint had some trace of yours and Aaron's relationship wrapped up within it. It all seemed like a lie - a hot, seething lie that made your mouth watery with nausea.

Aaron came home to a cold and empty house. His footsteps echoed as he walked around the place, calling out for you and gaining no response. Then he saw what was left of his MacBook and instantly knew.

Bile rose in his throat as what he'd done weighed down on him, crushing his chest and breaking his ribs with a heavy, but deserved guilt.

He begged for you to answer the phone as the tone rang out and gave him your chirpy voicemail.

Meanwhile, you'd watched your phone buzz away with every phone call. And - although you didn't want to see his face ever again - you needed some kind of closure, even if it meant that things would never be resolved again. You needed to tell him how badly he'd hurt you - what a dick he was - and you needed to ask him why. Why weren't you enough?

When you entered the house, you found him sat at the kitchen island, a glass of scotch in his hand. If you hadn't have been so mad, the state of him would have made you run back into his arms, but the text messages replayed in your mind.

"You're drinking. Really? Have you been through a lot, Aaron?" You voice whipped at him and he turned with a slight flinch, not even noticing that you'd entered the house. He tried to get down from his seat, most likely to take your hands in his and explain it away - win you back over. He could rot in fucking hell.

"Don't move," You commanded. He stayed put in his seat, although his leg half dangled away from the stool as he watched you, cautiously.

"Y/N," He began. Your heart was beginning to finally break, shattering into a million pieces at the sound of his voice, the sound of your name on his tongue. Something that you once loved to hear, but now you loathed. You didn't want to hear him say your name ever again.

"How long?" You cut him off. He gulped.

"A month,"

"A fucking month," You scoffed, turning around to face the door, slamming your fist against it. The last thing you wanted to see right now was him.

"Why?"

"I was stupid,"

"Fuck off. Why, Aaron?"

"What?"

You turned around to face him, your hands balled into fists by your side. Your face flamed with anger, your lashes twitching as you stared him down.

"Why," Your voice cracked as the tears spilled at last. "was I not enough?"

He couldn't give you an answer. After a few moments, you nodded and faced the door again. You opened it, walked out of the house and never went back. Never saw his face. Never spoke to him again. And he never called for you, either.

Well, you thought you'd never see his face again or speak to him. But three years later, on a train headed for Texas, you noticed the telltale hair a few seats away, facing you. Your eyes followed the hair down to his face, unchanged, staring down in deep thought at a file on his lap. You'd always imagined that all the bad feelings would hurtle back if you ever saw him again, but they'd almost vanished. You felt a small sting of hurt, but with it came an overwhelming sense of longing and curiosity. You wanted to be desperately mad at him still, but only felt mad towards yourself as you watched him - unbeknownst to him - and felt yourself wanting to talk to him.

He was a profiler and in tune with his senses. As if by instruction, he looked up from his file as your gaze burned him, immediately locking eyes with you. His face became an expression of full surprise, warm surprise, before changing into sadness and shame quickly. But you couldn't stop staring at him, and for a brief moment - you cast a coy smile.

He mirrored your expression back to you, although the shame was still exposed in his eyes.

Then he looked back down at the file, and you tore your eyes away from him, opting to stare out of the window instead - the scenery passing you by in a blur as memories pre-Beth flooded your mind, and you relived them with a begrudging smile.

He did what he did and you hadn't forgiven him for it. But it couldn't wipe away the years that you'd had with him before it happened - the memories, the milestones...everything that made you fall and stay in love with him began to shine over the incident.

You didn't particularly believe in fate, but you were swayed in the direction of belief as the train juddered to a halt, miles away from the next stop.

"This is your train conductor speaking. We're gonna have a delay of around thirty minutes due to a track fault - we're sorry,"

As soon as the tannoy announcement finished, you looked at him almost instinctively, finding him doing the same thing. A small, quick war waged in his eyes before he stood up and tucked the file away into his briefcase. He stepped away from his seat, case in hand, and gingerly stepped over towards you, lingering next to the seat in front of you. You said nothing, but nodded to him and he sat down, placing the case onto the floor by his feet.

"I have wanted to tell you this for three years," He began, and you sat a little more upright in your seat. His eyes searched your face for any reason that he should shut up, but found nothing. He cleared his throat.

"I would give you the spiel of 'I was wrong, I don't know what I was thinking, it was a mistake' but I know you don't want to hear it, even if I mean it. You asked me a question that I never answered,"

You bit your lip anxiously and leaned forward, fidgeting with your fingers.

"You were always enough. Way more than enough, Y/N. I got myself caught up in something so meaningless and wrong. I said no to her at first, several times, but it just happened and then I felt like I couldn't stop it. Every single day, I wish I could go back and change everything...but I can't,"

You stayed silent, watching him with glassy eyes.

"I never stopped loving you and I never went back to her when you left. I deserved what you did, way more than what you did," He finished in a sincere, meaningful tone.

"You know, sometimes, I--" You sighed, glancing out of the window for a moment before turning back to him. "I still reach out for you when I go to sleep at night," You admitted. "For just a second, I forget that it happened and I still think you're there,"

A tear slipped out of his eye, but he refused to wipe it away or even move an inch.

"I never stopped loving you either...but, Aaron, you broke my heart. You broke my trust in you,"

He nodded, a few more tears sneaking down his cheeks. He looked down, you heard his feet shuffle slightly before he reached for his briefcase. He stood up.

"...but not completely," You muttered, just as he turned away from you, about to take his old seat again. He froze, his head slowly tilting in your direction.

"Not completely?" He repeated. He turned around fully, but staying put in the middle of the aisle, staring at you as if he wasn't comprehending what you were saying. You nodded.

"Do we still have a chance?" He whispered, and you patted the empty seat next to you. He sat down quickly, his face inches away from yours as he stared at you, trying to find any expression to give away your answer.

"I think so, if..." You trailed off. His hand softly took ahold of yours.

"If?"

"Kiss me. I'm tired of reliving memories," You said. Without another thought, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his lips bringing back every loving feeling that you had for him ten times over, washing you in a sweet euphoria that felt like home. You only kissed him back for a few seconds before pulling away.

"You have a lot of making up to do,"

"and more,"

-------

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[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Guardian’s Oath, Part Fifteen

I seem to be all over the place with the lengths of these posts. Hope that’s not a deterrent! 

If this is the first you’re seeing of TGO, you’ll probably want to check out some of the earlier parts which are linked in the Master List. 

The story is set in 19th century Ireland and tells of a young woman sent to work as the governess for two precocious children in the home of Reverend Feargal Devitt, a young widower. While there, she finds herself drawn to her employer and to the story of his troubled first marriage, and to the supernatural tales of the Demon Finn Balor, whose spectre seems to hang over the family. 

Thank you so much to those who have followed along thus far!

Pairing: Feargal Devitt/ Finn Balor x OFC

Word count: 3,703

Content advisory: Nothing, although if the subject of childbirth makes you uncomfortable, you’re not going to enjoy it

Nothing had prepared me for how difficult the birthing process could be and although I had been warned to expect pain, no warning could have made me understand how much pain and how long it would continue. On top of the pain was the fear that gripped me from the moment I realized that something was wrong. I was terrified of dying. I was terrified that my baby was dying. The doctor was efficient but did nothing to soothe my mind or my body and so I was left to my own devices to pull myself through the many hours that followed. 

I never understood the precise nature of the problem and I can’t be sure that anyone else did. I was bleeding and therefore too weak to push the baby out. Every time someone, the doctor or his assistant, who was also his wife, tried to ease the child from me, it felt like they were tearing my stomach out. It felt like what they were doing was wrong and dangerous for me. I did my best to try to help them but no matter how hard I tried, I could not muster the strength. 

Several times, I asked for Feargal, to no avail. He would be summoned when the baby was out, not sooner. 

I know that I was in and out of consciousness for much of the time, sometimes because of the drugs that the doctor gave me and sometimes because the pain and the pressure in my abdomen was too much. I told them frequently to leave me and that I wasn’t capable of giving birth, that I couldn’t bear trying any longer, but they insisted in no gentle way that I did not have a choice. I had no idea how long this had been going on when I felt a slight change in the pain, that it became sharper but at the same time it felt like my body was making some progress. I heard the doctor’s voice as if it came from some distance, as if there was a vat of water boiling next to my ears that distorted everything else. 

“I can see it,” he yelped and his assistant nodded her confirmation. 

From that moment, I pushed desperately, although it still wasn’t enough to get the job done. When the doctor brandished his forceps, I fully believed that he meant to tear the baby out of me in pieces and struggled, screaming, to get free. In the end, he was able to use his tools and brute strength to accomplish what I couldn’t. We were all covered in blood, my blood, as we waited for the infant to show some sign of life. I heard it, a strange, high-pitched scree like a seagull but again, it seemed to come from far away. 

“Is it alright?” I gasped. “Is it alive?”

There was a shuffle of bodies before the doctor answered me. “He’s fine, Mrs. Devitt. You need to rest now.”

“It’s a boy? I want to see him! Let me hold him!”

I could hear the baby crying more clearly now, crying for me. 

“Give him to me!” I tried to shout, but I wasn’t strong enough and my voice flagged at the second word, falling to just a harsh whisper. 

“Take the boy to his father,” I heard the doctor grumble. “I’ll tend to her.”

His wife walked away, my baby snug in her arms and I was pushed back onto the bed, hard. The doctor rested his hand on my shoulder as he produced a large needle and jammed it into the side of my hip. I could sense the change immediately as my legs felt numb and tingling. He stood over me, pushing my legs apart and frowning as if I was disobeying him. Although many of the details of that time were lost for me, I knew right away that I would hold that image with me always: this gray-haired man with an angry expression, splattered with my blood as he stared at the most intimate parts of my anatomy. 

The next time I awoke, even opening my eyes felt arduous. There was little pain, in fact there was little feeling in my body at all, but I had never imagined I could be so weak. It was quite dark in the room but I could make out a shadowy figure sitting near the bed. 

“Feargal?” I squeaked. 

There was no answer, but I saw the person shift a little at the sound of my voice. 

“Is the baby ok?”

Still nothing, save the sound of breathing. 

I felt like it was my husband in the room with me but at the same time, the presence was making me nervous. 

“Say something!” I hissed. 

But there was no sound. The form moved a little in its seat once again. I tried to keep my eyes trained in case the danger I sensed was real but I quickly felt myself getting towed under into sleep again. 

When I opened my eyes again, there was some light in the room. I was slick head to foot in sweat and there was a scent in the room that made me feel sick to my stomach but just seeing the light made things a little better. 

“Are you awake, Mrs. Devitt?”

I recognized the voice of the doctor’s wife and nodded, feeling too drained to speak. 

“Well there’s someone here who’s been eager to meet you.”

She leaned down and placed what at first looked like just a pile of blankets. Then she peeled back some of the fabric and nestled within it was a tiny, wrinkled face, red but not feverish. Its eyes seemed even heavier than mine, barely open at all and fluttering just a little when I pressed my fingers against its little chest. 

“I need to feed him.”

“He’s fine, ma’am. We’ve had a nursemaid to tend to him. You’ve been out the better part of two days.”

“Two days?” I looked up at her, trying to read her hard expression. 

“Lay with him for a while but don’t worry about anything else. It’ll be taken care of.”

Although I knew the practice was common enough, I hated the idea that another woman had been feeding my baby. My brother had required a nursemaid because my mother was dead but I was very much alive. Wasn’t I? 

“Is everything alright?” I asked her. 

“The baby is fine. He’s small but he seems hardy. You were the one we were worried about but it looks like you’re through the worst of it.”

I raised myself a little- as much as I could- and looked into the tiny face of my son. I ran my hand over him, marveling at the impossible softness of his skin. He stirred a little but did not cry and eventually the weight and warmth of my hand seemed to ease him to sleep. In my state a puppy could have easily overpowered me. How could I protect something so completely vulnerable as him? Or the children, who I’d promised to keep safe? As long as I was in this state, we were all in danger from whatever it was that stalked the house. 

“I’m going to get stronger again, as fast as I can,” I whispered to my son. “You shall have nothing to be afraid of while I live.”

*

Neither the doctor nor his wife approved of the fact that I insisted on taking over the feeding of my son and that I refused to take the drugs for the pain except when it truly became unbearable. I didn’t back down, though. The longer I stayed in bed half-asleep, the longer my family was vulnerable. I knew enough not to say exactly that but I could tell they still thought I was a little mad. 

“You have to keep an eye on her,” the doctor told Feargal when he thought I was asleep. “Having a child takes a great toll on a woman and sometimes they can become hysterical.”

I hated to think what effect those words would have on Feargal and it was at that moment that I decided I didn’t like the doctor. I knew that what I was thinking seemed crazy but I also knew that I had seen things since I had arrived at this place that defied explanation. Sophia had some inkling of it. Even William did. Feargal wouldn’t speak of it but it was possible that he was infected by it, that he needed saving more than any of us. The first Mrs. Devitt had tried to resist and had been overwhelmed. I would not allow that to happen, I told myself. I had been sent here because I was strong enough to break this curse. 

So I nursed my son and fought through the pain, telling myself that I needed toughening up. Feargal hated the idea that I was suffering but he also seemed relieved that I had the strength to be so obstinate. It was by watching his reactions to me that I realized that I had come very close to death. If I gave any sign that I was in pain, any little grunt or twitch, he would immediately go through a series of questions to determine what was wrong and refused to dismiss anything as unworthy of attention. If he was near me, he was almost always touching me and if he wasn’t, his eyes were always fixed on me. 

His behavior certainly made me feel loved but there were moments when I felt I was under scrutiny, or that myself and the baby were under scrutiny. This was never more true than when the other children were around. It felt like months since I’d seen them since they’d been kept out of the bedroom while I was recovering. And although they had met the baby, it wasn’t until they saw him with me that they got to touch him and look at him up close. 

“Can I hold him?” Sophia asked the first time she and William were allowed in to see us. 

“No, dear. Babies are fragile when they’re born and he’s heavy.”

“I’m a strong girl,” she insisted. 

“I know, but it’s always best to be careful. You’ll get to hold him soon.”

“But then won’t he be even heavier?”

“Yes, but his bones will be stronger.” I shuffled the infant in my arms a little and took hold of Sophia’s fingers. “Here, press just a little.”

I guided her fingers to his head. The facility where I had been raised by the church had on several occasions been used to shelter unwed mothers and I had been pressed into service on several occasions when help was needed with the babies. I was happily surprised at how the knowledge I had picked up during that time had come flooding back into my mind now that I was a mother myself. I cautiously guided Sophia’s hand over the soft spot in her brother’s head, smiling when she shuddered because I remembered that I had had the same reaction the first time someone had shown this to me. 

“That feels awful!” she exclaimed. 

“We all start out like that. Don’t worry, in a little while his head will be as hard as yours.”

William crawled up on the sofa and leaned on me, trying to get a better look at his brother’s face. 

“Why haven’t you given him a name yet?” he asked.

I laughed a little as he squirmed against me. “What’s the rush?” I giggled. “It’s not like he minds.”

The truth was that Feargal and I hadn’t even discussed it. We had talked about the rough nature of the birth and how frightening it had been. We had taken turns reassuring one another that the baby looked fine and was eating well. But the fact was that both of us were spooked and were hesitant to give the child a name until we felt certain that we weren’t going to lose him. So eight days after his birth, we still just called him “the baby”. 

William pressed harder into my side and I realized that he wanted me to wrap my arm around him. This required moving the baby from one side of my body to the other, which was nearly impossible with William moving and I was trying to figure out a delicate way to tell him to stop when a sharp voice cut in. 

“William, go take a seat over there.” Feargal pointed at the small chair near the window. I could see that the boy wanted to argue because this would take him away from both the baby and me, but his father’s frosty blue eyes flashed with warning. Dejectedly, William slunk over and took his place in the corner. 

“The boy does have a point, though,” Feargal mused. “The baby needs a name. So let’s come up with one.”

“William and I have names from your family,” Sophia opined, “so why shouldn’t he have one as well?”

I looked at her nervously, waiting for her to suggest ‘Colin’ but she remained quiet, looking from her father to me as if challenging us to come up with a better suggestion. 

“Well I’ve already had the chance to name a child for my favorite aunt and my elder brother, may god rest their souls,” Feargal answered. “Perhaps Helen would like to name her first born for her father?”

“No,” I answered quickly. 

“Or your brother?” Sophia suggested. 

I shook my head again. 

“We should name him Jesus!” William cried, his admonition forgotten. 

Feargal and I both laughed and were rescued by Sophia. 

“You can’t name a baby Jesus,” she chided. “That’s the name God chose and that means no one else gets to have it.”

It was Feargal who finally suggested that we name the baby Michael, after Reverend Potter, the man who had been responsible for getting me my post as governess to begin with. Since all of us liked the name, we settled on that quite quickly. 

“When will he be baptized?” Sophia asked. 

“That will have to wait until I’m able to get around a little more.”

“He has to be baptized so that God will protect him,” the girl scolded me. 

“You’ve learned well,” her father answered, “but most babies aren’t baptized until they’re a couple of months old.”

“I just want to know that he’s safe,” she added softly, fixing me with her peculiarly mature stare. 

Was that the secret? I wondered. Was she trying to tell me that the baby was in danger only as long as he was unbaptized? I couldn’t imagine how Sophia would know this but I also had to admit that she seemed to know many things beyond her years and experience. Perhaps she was making a guess, in which case it wasn’t entirely farfetched. 

“I shall write to Reverend Devlin about it so that we can arrange it as soon as possible,” I promised her. 

“I’ll speak to him,” Feargal said sharply. 

I looked up, a little surprised at his tone and saw that his eyes appeared even lighter and chillier than usual. Was this a flash of jealousy because he remembered that night months earlier when the young Reverend had seemed flirtatious? Or was he resisting the idea of rushing the baptism? I couldn't tell and didn’t dare mention either possibility, so I smiled meekly and nodded at him. 

*

My recovery went slower than I anticipated. It seemed like every time I tried to move around, it reopened the internal wounds I had sustained and I would be sent back to bed until the pain and bleeding subsided. By the time I was able to go outside again, the weather was starting to turn cold. Because of the issues I had had, Feargal insisted that I be accompanied by either Kate or Susan whenever I left the house, lest I take a weak turn. However, on one particularly glorious autumn day, I did end up going out by myself. 

Feargal was gone for a few days with the children: William had been accepted into school but his start had been delayed so that he could be at home with us when the baby arrived, but his father had wanted to take him to see the school and to meet his teachers before he started officially. Sophia was still dejected that her brother would be going to school and she wouldn’t and so she had been invited along in order to keep her from feeling left out. Of course, no sooner had they left when Kate’s sister fell and broke her arm. 

I insisted that our poor cook spend as much time as she needed with her sister’s family, pointing out that I was capable of feeding myself for a couple of days and that I had Susan to help me. Indeed, it was quiet but not unpleasant with just the baby and the young servant. 

It was the day that Feargal and the children were due back and I had just gotten Michael down for his afternoon nap when I found Susan muttering in frustration as she went through the pantry shelves. 

“Is there a problem?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I just noticed that we don’t have any more eggs and I need two for the bread. I’ll head up to the market to pick some up.”

“I’ll go.” She looked surprised at my offer but I was eager to get outside, especially since I knew the cold weather would soon have me housebound for months. “I’d like the walk and the fresh air.”

“You aren’t supposed to go walking, especially not alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I have to start doing things for myself eventually. You have work to do here. It’s only fair that I should take care of this.”

She acquiesced and I headed out, walking slowly and deliberately but relishing the feeling of the glorious autumn air. It was late for the farmers’ market but I managed to secure a few eggs. I was turning to head home when I heard my name called. 

“How lovely to see you up and about, although I’m afraid my wife will be upset that you beat me to the last eggs.”

Revered Devlin gave me a broad smile and a slight bow. 

“I don’t think we need all of these today, so I could give you a couple,” I told him. 

“You’re too kind. It’s not an emergency, though. We can make it until tomorrow and it’ll be a lesson to me to get my errands done earlier in the day.”

“It’s no trouble, I insist. I know how much work you have.” I reached into my bag but he shook his head. “Actually, as long as I have you here, I might as well ask you about work as well. Now that I’m able to get around, I’d like to set a date to have our son baptized.”

“Of course you would. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been around to speak to you and Reverend Devitt to arrange it. What is the baby’s name?”

I felt a little tremor go through me. “Oh, I thought that Feargal had been in touch with you. We’ve named the baby Michael.”

Reverend Devlin shook his head. “No, I’m sure he meant to, but he didn’t speak to me. But it’s no problem, I’m afraid that there’s been two funeral services I’ve had to arrange in the last couple of weeks so it will be a pleasure to attend to something joyous.”

The young man insisted on walking me home, despite my assurances that I was fully recovered. In fact, I was getting twinges of pain the longer I was on my feet and I was happy to have his arm to lean on. It was also nice for me to speak to someone new, even though the way he looked at me made me blush. He was pleasant company and the walk passed quickly. As we reached my home, I was visibly limping and he insisted on helping me to the door, one arm around my waist to steady me. 

I was startled when the door flew open to meet us, and my sudden movement caused him to tighten his hold on me. 

“Reverend,” Feargal greeted him with a tight smile, “how good to see you again.”

My husband reached out and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me across the threshold without moving his eyes from the other man. They exchanged pleasantries as I took my leave and rushed to the kitchen to hand over the eggs. Susan looked nervous and thanked me more than necessary. I wanted to ask her what the matter was but she scurried away saying that she needed to get the bread started. 

I made my way up to the bedroom and was surprised to see that Feargal was already there, holding Michael up as if he were inspecting him. He stood in front of the window, the light behind him making him appear dark and shadowy in form, the expression on his face inscrutable even as I approached him. 

“Here comes your mama,” he cooed to the baby, turning his piercing eyes on me. “Where has she been?”

I held out my arms for him to hand Michael to me but he stayed still, even pulling back a little. 

“Feargal,” I whispered, “let me have him.”

He gave an unkind-looking smile but placed the baby in my outstretched arms. I cradled him, avoiding my husband’s stare for a few minutes until I returned the tiny figure to his crib next to the bed. Feargal crowded close to me, his breath condensing against my neck as I watched Michael drifting back to sleep. 

“Where are the children?” I stammered, feeling his hand close around my arm. 

“Fast asleep, would you believe? I had to wake them to come from the coach and they went to bed as soon as they went inside.”

He placed a kiss on my temple and pressed against me so that I was trapped between his body and the wall. 

[taehyunggtrash]

“You say I’m such a cliché” (tgo)

“What do you want me to say?!” She snapped, hands gripping the table in front of her, chest rising and falling. The girl was at the end of her wits by now, the fight or flight night was still reeling in her head as she felt stress weigh down onto her shoulders. It was a lot, and the fact that she discovered that Ryder’s home life was just as bad as hers and he didn’t tell her.....it didn’t sit well. Call her selfish, call her ignorant to reality, but she felt hurt above all things here. She was honest with him, the moment he managed to snake her way into her life, she had let him in. It was hard for her to do, to be open with people, and the fact that he wasn’t open back just rubbed her the wrong way. “I didn’t keep anything from you, I trusted you enough to let you into the darkest part of my life you can’t even give me the decency of doing the same.” Her voice grew softer in fear that it would break, god she hoped it didn’t break, because it was something she couldn’t stand. The mere idea of showing vulnerability made her sick to her stomach, so she opted for pushing herself off the counter and grabbing her stuff. She’d been here with him at his place for two days now, but now she wanted to get as far away as possible. Riley didn’t know where she was going, but she just wanted to be alone. Despite the hand he reached out for her, she yanked her arm away, “Don’t, fucking don’t.” She muttered, shaking her head and storming out the front door.

[jclifou]

Alt!

THE ROCK BITCH

"What is your fucking problem?”

Meet my first little baby OC, Mackenzie Kenz Swift! At 22 years of age and five feet, two inches of pure, unadulterated fury, she fails to cut a terribly imposing figure--but don’t you be fooled! This child will verbally stomp your ass into the ground and physically take your wallet for the fun of it!

"It’s called style, dickslit. Look it up some time.”

Although now a fandomless OC that spends a lot of time in SPN and related verses, Kenz started out as an R!TGO/TDC OC. As a result, one of her most notable physical features--a lung-rotting disease that acts like asthma on steriods--tends to be shifted on a sliding scale of severity, depending on the reality of the verse. In some, she’s actively dying or severely suffering from it; in others, she’ll have mild asthma or nothing at all. It all depends on the reality of the base canon.Interestingly enough, she has only twice died from the lung-rot.The other four times she’s died in RP have been from unrelated issues; two vampire attacks (when not a hunter) and two jobs gone wrong (shot making a run for it once; attacked by an unspecified monster once).

"Holy shit. You’re playing Quiet Riot?”

“I love these guys! They fuckin’ rock!”

Unforunately, I don’t play on Kenz much anymore. I love her a lot, and for some partners I’m always willing to whip her out--my emotionally stunted anger-child is the voicest I write closest to my own, honestly, although whereas I cry over everything, she gets pissed the fuck off about it--but the reality is that it’s hard being on her. A friendship went south there and it’s been hell trying to get muse back for Kenz since.

"I’m sorry. I keep trying to listen, but all I’m hearing is ‘blah, blah, blah, I love you Kenz, blah-blah, you’re a fucking goddess, kiss me, blah.’”

“You’re cute when you’re all chivalric, Aid.”

What I liked best about Kenz was that she was multilayered in a lot of surprising ways. She never graduated high school, but in some verses she agreed to go back and get her GED. She loves rock’n’roll and puts forward a tougher than nails exterior, but listens to bubblegum pop and wears super brightly colored underwear on the DL. She lives in a bottle and drives herself recklessly and relentlessly forward--she’s almost always killed because she runs in guns blazing and dies because she had nothing else to live for, nothing to try keeping herself safe or alive for, anyways--but she’s insanely loyal, and if you give her that thing to live for, she’ll stop taking as many risks. She loves literature and romance novels; she denies reading both, just like she denies the pop and the underwear. She’s not good at expressing herself verbally. She curses like a sailor, in and out of narration and dialogue, but paints a beautiful picture in her head with words. She was genuine and complex, and I actually miss her a lot.

"Don’t you do this to me. Don’t you fucking do this to me!”

Kenz’s voice broke on the last word; the dam broke with it. Hot tears spilled out of her eyes and she bent down over him, strangled noises eking out around the lump in her throat. He was fucked. He was fucked up. He was--fucking--dead. “Don’t you do this to me, you bastard, GET UP!”

But he didn’t move. How could he? His eyes were glazed over already, lifeless, dull. Flat. His chest didn’t move. He didn’t so much as twitch when she smacked his chest with a wild scream, the sound ripping through her throat, pain bringing her back into herself. Tiny hands balled up in his shirt and shook their--but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything more. She sat back with another sob and pushed him, his fucking body, bloodying her face and hair when she grabbed at it. Moe was dead. Moe was dead!

And she was probably fucking next....

[taehyunggtrash]

# right back at ya satan. do em all

OKAY, YOU ASKED FOR IT SO......

[ beachbum!ryley ]

“Guess what, bitch, you don’t get to just ghost me and then freak out on me and leave like that. I gave you a few days to come to your senses, so I expect you here at my place in the next two hours. Like honestly, don’t do this shit because it’s not cool.....like it’s really not cool. So if you could please just....text me back or call me or, just anything. K. Bye.”

[ tgo!rilder ]

“So, I guess you really did just leave. I’m not calling to guilt trip you or get on your case, I’ve been too busy beating myself up the past two days but I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being soft enough. I’m sorry for being cold. I’m sorry for not being easy to deal with. I’m sorry for being broken. I’m sorry that I’m not.....who you wanted. But I really did like you Ryder, I was falling for you so maybe.....maybe it’s best that this happened, right? What do I know about love anyways, right? I’ve never seen it or felt it or anything like that, so, this was a good thing. It had to have been. But, what I don’t like, is the thought of losing you forever. That’s the thing that really scares me the most. I’m gonna let you go, you don’t need to call me back or anything, but i just had to get that off my chest. Take care of yourself, Lynn.”

[ elites!ryley ]

“Hey.....it’s, uh, it’s me. Look, I don’t know what even happened. I know you said you don’t want to talk to me, and that you couldn’t look at me the same anymore but you didn’t even....you didn’t let me say anything. What you saw with me and Jake wasn’t something I had even intended to happen. He came over,that’s true, but nothing happened. He needed advice, I gave it to him, and he crash on the couch. That’s it, I swear. The media is blowing that hug I gave him way out of proportion, I know that there’s that history there but......I love you. You know that. I can’t even think about anyone else, and you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t ever think of doing anything like that to you. Please, just, call me back.....please.”