#at least tag the pregnancy so i can filter it

[un-local]

Spent last night tearing through a longfic. It's incredible. Perfect. It consumes me while I'm at work today. I get home. Ao3 is down, right at the good part. I'm chewing through drywall, but I wait

Ao3 is finally up again, and i finish the last two chapters: author got tired of writing it, and just collapsed the whole thing to end it quicker, killed off major characters with no payoff, and then timeskipped past the narrative climax, fast forwarding to post-canon to show protaggirl pregnant as a happy ending.

[sequinsmile-x]

Our Field of Dreams, Engulfed in Fire

She tells herself that she’ll get used to it, that the pain she feels over her friend's happy news will fade, but it only gets worse.

-x-

Hi friends,

This is truly up there with one of the saddest things I think I've ever written, so please take heed of the tags/warnings.

As always, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 4k

Warnings: pregnancy, miscarriage, stillbirth

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She laughs as her husband shepherds her into the conference room, his eyebrow raised as he passes her a cup of coffee as she sits down, her eyes narrowed when she eyes him playfully, “What are we doing in here? I have work to do upstairs you know.” 

“I don’t know,” he replies, sitting next to her, “JJ called the meeting. I’m sure Counterterrorism can live without their Unit Chief for 30 minutes.” 

She rolls her eyes and sips her coffee, “I’ll remind you that you said that next time I try and steal you away for lunch.” 

She’d moved departments just before they let everyone know about their relationship, not wanting any technicalities or rules to get in the way of them being happy and together. Aaron had asked her several times if she was sure, as if he was forcing her out of her job, and she’d assured him she was more than sure. A change had been what she’d needed, her desire to pretend everything was as it always had been when she came back from Paris wearing thin. She’d worked her way up in Counterterrorism quickly and often made fun of her husband for the fact she’d made it to his level so fast, a quip that he was clearly the troublemaker out of the two of them always on the tip of her tongue. 

Any response he may have, his smile full of mirth as he looks at her, is cut off as the rest of the team filters in all together, JJ rounding them up before she pulls the door closed behind them, nervous excitement written all over her face. 

“What’s going on, JJ?” Derek asks, sinking into a chair on Emily’s other side, “Can’t be work-related if Mrs Hotch is here.” 

Emily rolls her eyes, shaking her head as he hides his smirk behind his mug, “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” 

“Always at least once more, Princess,” he says, winking at her, and she can’t fight her smile. JJ clears her throat and they all look at her, her amused smile tinged with an edge of nervousness, “Sorry JJ.” 

“It’s okay,” she says, “I wanted to tell you all something and it’s almost impossible to get us all into one room these days.” 

Penelope sits forward, “We’re all listening.” 

Emily watches her friend carefully, the way she smiles widely, how her hand twitches at her side, almost touching her lower belly before she stops herself. Emily feels the ground beneath her disappear, her stomach rolling as she realises what her friend is about to say. It’s like her senses disappear all at once, the happiness and lightheartedness she’d been feeling just moments ago long gone as she reaches for the small pendant around her neck, a disc with an E carved delicately into it that Aaron had bought her close to two years ago now. She presses her thumb against it, feels the curve of the letter pressing into her skin, the sensation something she focuses on as JJ’s announcement rings around them.

“I’m pregnant!” 

She’s grateful no one is paying attention to her, because the joyful cheer from their friends makes her jump, the sound of it drawing her back into herself as she looks around the room. Aaron is still next to her, his hand now on her thigh, and she looks at him, their eyes only briefly meeting before she looks away, sure she’d fall apart if she let him look at her too long. 

She forces herself up, grateful for once for her upbringing, that she’d been taught the language of good manners before anything else when she was young. She congratulates her friend, hoping she doesn’t see past her smile that was only half fake, her genuine happiness for JJ clouded by the grief she could never quite pull herself away from. 

No one knows. She has to remind herself of it, that no one knew, that it was her decision that they didn’t, and it’s the only thing that keeps her in one piece. She manages to stay in the conference room for 10 minutes until she feels like she could drown in the happiness, the taste of it bitter as it washes into her lungs, and she excuses herself, hugging JJ one more time before she leaves. 

She knows Aaron will follow her so she doesn’t go far, sneaking into his office and sinking onto the couch as she waits for him, her eyes fixed on the floor. She isn’t there long before she hears his footsteps followed by the sound of the door to his office closing. He joins her on the couch and he purposely keeps a distance from her, always keen to make sure he takes her lead. 

“Em-”

“Don’t. Please,” she says, shaking her head, her gaze still fixed on the ground, “I just need a minute,” she begs and she’s grateful when he obliges, the room silent other than the clock on the wall. She reaches for his hand and squeezes it, grateful for the press of his ring against her skin, a reminder that no matter what she’d lost she still had this. “I wasn’t expecting that to…” she chokes on a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, “That felt like a gut punch.” 

“I know,” he says, lifting their joint hands to kiss her knuckles, “Same for me.” 

She turns to look at him, not surprised to find his eyes shining with tears too, “It’s been nearly two years. I thought…I don’t know what I thought.” 

The grief of it, of the babies she’d lost, that she’d never get to know, was something she was strangely used to. An old friend that lingered in every corner and had a seat at every table. A part of their daily lives she thought she had built herself back up around, but this had pulled the rug from under her, her friend's happy news leaving her unsteady. 

They’d tried for a baby for a long time. When she fell pregnant the first time, a sense of finally in the air around her as the test she was staring at had two lines on it for once, she’d felt nothing but happiness. It had been short-lived, a moment of joy brought to an end by familiar cramping in her back and bleeding that stained her thighs. She still remembered the look on the doctor’s face, a strange type of kindness in her smile as she told them they could try again. 

They did, and the second time she fell pregnant quicker, something she tried to tell herself was a sign things were going to work out this time. Her anxiety had lingered, all the fears she couldn’t outrun from losing her first baby still in the back of her mind, but as she entered her second trimester she relaxed. It was something she now cursed herself for, anger that she’d let herself believe she was finally going to have everything she’d ever wanted the very thing that made what was to come even more painful. 

No one knew she was pregnant either time, only Aaron and her doctor, and when she had nothing to show for either of them except for a broken heart and a box full of ultrasound pictures and tests with faded lines, she was grateful for it. Aaron had tried to encourage her at first to talk to someone else if she wanted to, but she’d only ever wanted to talk to him. To share it with someone who understood, and who already shared in the loss. The thought of having sympathy and well-meaning but empty words from other people enough to make her want to scream. 

“Want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head, “Not here,” she says, smiling tightly at him, “Otherwise I think I’ll start crying and never stop.” 

He nods in understanding, “Later? I can ask Jess to take Jack. We can sit in bed and cry whilst we eat all the candy from the pantry.” 

She laughs, the sound wet and thick as it catches in her chest, “You know me so well.” 

“You’re my wife,” he says, reaching out and tucking some of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her cheek, wiping away a tear he otherwise doesn’t acknowledge, “If I didn’t know you it would be pretty sad.” 

___

She tells herself that she’ll get used to it, that the pain she feels over her friend's happy news will fade, but it only gets worse. JJ stops trying to hide it now she’s told them, the clothes she now wears to the office show off her small bump, her smile wide and happy whenever someone congratulates her. Emily talks about to Aaron about it and decides she needs to talk to JJ, to give her some context on why she was suddenly avoiding her, and why she’d come up with an excuse that sounded lame even to her ears when Penelope mentioned a baby shower. 

When she’s standing on JJ’s porch less than two weeks after her announcement in the conference room, Emily doubts herself. A moment of anxiety flaring in her gut before she forces herself to ring the bell, bravery she knows is fake washing over her as she waits for someone to answer the door. She paints a smile on her face when JJ pulls the door open, her surprise obvious as she finds Emily standing on the other side of it. 

“Emily,” she says, standing back to let her in, “I wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she replies, her gaze drifting to JJ’s stomach, the t-shirt she’s wearing gathering around her small bump. Emily forces herself to look away, sadness and envy and so many emotions she isn’t proud of burning in her chest, “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course,” JJ replies, furrowing her brow as she leads Emily towards the living room, “Will is on bedtime duty tonight so you’re not interrupting anything. Do you want a drink?”

Emily shakes her head, “No, that’s okay.” She sits down on the couch and waits for JJ to join her, but when she opens her mouth no words come out, everything she’d rehearsed on the drive over stuck somewhere in her throat, threatening to choke her as she tries to figure out how to talk about something she’d only ever discussed with her husband. 

“Are you okay?” JJ asks, beating her to it, “You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.” 

Emily chokes on a laugh at that, unsure when she had last been herself. She felt adrift these days. Aaron and Jack and her routine the only things that kept her above water. She clasps her hands in her lap, putting more pressure on her own knuckles than necessary so she can feel something, anything, other than the empty ache low in her belly, “I…I don’t know where to start.” 

“Wherever feels right,” JJ says, her voice so kind it makes Emily want to scream, everything she’d been suppressing for days just below the surface. 

She nods and sighs, “A few years ago, just after Aaron and I got married, I was pregnant,” she says, clearing her throat when her voice catches on the word that makes JJ’s face fall, “Twice actually,” she hates the silence as JJ stares at her, so she carries on, “And I lost both of them.” 

It’s an unnecessary addition, she knows that. JJ knows she doesn’t have any children other than Jack, and Emily wonders if her friend is replaying interactions they’d had together and as a group from the last few years. How Emily’s smile and shoulders would tighten if one of the team mentioned little Hotchner babies, how Aaron would throw daggers at anyone who brought it up. Emily had always assumed they thought she either couldn’t have kids or had chosen not to, their curiosity slowly petering off as the years drifted by. Their friend's thoughts of them having more children disappearing, the hope and possibilities nothing more than flecks of dust in the wind. 

“Oh, Em,” JJ says, her voice hollow, like all the joy had been mined out of it, empathy rushing into it’s place like flood water that Emily does her best to ignore. “Em, I’m so sorry. You never said anything.”

“We…I mostly, decided we didn’t want to,” she says, “The first time we knew for a handful of weeks,” she smiles wistfully as she thinks of it, of a time of innocence she’d burn the world down to get back, “But then I lost it, I was about 8 weeks along. We told everyone we had the flu and took a week off work. The second time I was almost 18 weeks along,” she says, ignoring the shake in her voice and the gasp JJ can’t hold back. Emily is glad she’s sitting down, that she can’t be physically knocked off her feet by the wave of grief that threatens to take her under, “We were waiting until I hit 20 weeks to tell anyone. I woke up in pain and I was bleeding…and I just knew before the doctor even spoke to us.”

“How did you keep it a secret?” JJ asks, her curiosity winning out as she finally speaks, and Emily shrugs half-heartedly. 

“It was winter and baggy sweaters hide a lot,” she sighs, “When I…after I had the baby we took time off work again. Close to a month that time. I can’t even really remember what Aaron said we were doing. We went to Europe for a little while. I don’t remember much about it.” 

“He told us you both had leave Strauss was making you use,” JJ says, filling in a gap for her that she’d never quite been able to ask Aaron to fill, aware that she’d let him deal with a lot of the practicalities during that time, his own grief at their loss pushed down in favour of looking after her. 

“Afterwards, my OBGYN said she thinks the losses were because of my injuries from Ian. I had no issue getting pregnant, but staying pregnant until viability seemed unlikely. We decided to stop trying then,” she sucks in a breath, the air burning her lungs, “I couldn’t go through that again,” she laughs bitterly, the sound strange and wrong but she can’t help it, the thought she’d never been able to entirely shake off chasing it out of her chest, “I can see the irony in it. I took Ian’s son from him and he took mine from me.” 

“You had a boy?” JJ asks, her gaze a mix of shocked and sad that makes Emily’s stomach twist, a strange sense of anger she knows her friend doesn’t deserve rolling in her gut.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I had a boy.” She looks down at her hands, her focus on her wedding rings as she twists them back and forth, “Sometimes…sometimes I feel guilty that we’ve never told anyone else about him. But most of the time I’m glad we didn’t,” she looks up at JJ, her smile tight as she sees the devastation on her friend’s face. She doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try and comfort her, finding no room in her chest to take on someone else's emotions about it, “It makes him just ours, you know? Mine and Aaron’s,” she wipes a stray tear from her cheek, pushing it away with the heel of her hand as she turns away for just a second, “He’s just ours.” 

“What was his name?” JJ asks, the question slipping free before she thinks about it, her eyes going wide as Emily looks up at her in surprise, “You don’t have to-”

“Elliot,” Emily says, smiling as she says her son's name. A name she’d never call out in a park or hear as he crossed a stage at graduation, but she could say it here, her smile soft and sad as she grips the disc-shaped charm on her necklace, her thumb pressed against the engraved E. “We called him Elliot,” she feels her smile tremble as she looks away from her friend, the empathy in JJ’s eyes almost too much for her to bear, “Thank you for asking.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” JJ replies, resisting the urge to press her hand against her small bump, desperate not to draw attention to the very thing that had started this conversation in the first place, “Elliot’s a lovely name.” 

Emily sighs, the breath catching on all her ribs on the way out, the space in her chest that was left empty the day she lost her son aching in a way she knows would never go away, nor would she want it to. It was one of the few reminders she had that he’d existed. A hollowed-out part of her that would always be that way but that she’d learnt to live with. 

“I just wanted to tell you why…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head, her tongue peeking out to lick at her lower lip, “Why I’ll struggle to be involved with parts of this,” she swallows thickly, “Maybe all of it. And I’m so sorry-”

“No, Em,” JJ says, finally closing the gap between them and reaching for Emily’s hand, squeezing it tightly as she encourages her to look at her, “You have nothing to apologise for. Thank you for telling me. I won’t tell anyone, not even Will, if you don’t want me to. If I had known, I would have told you separately, not in front of everyone.”

“Thank you, and I know you would have. I guess I didn’t realise how much something like this would impact me until it happened. I am sorry though,” she squeezes JJ’s hand, “I’m sorry that I can’t be a better friend for a while.” 

JJ pulls her into a hug, careful to make sure she doesn’t press her bump against her, desperate to make sure she doesn’t upset her friend any more than she needs to, “No matter what, you’re still one of the best friend’s I’ve ever had, okay?” 

Emily laughs humourlessly and pulls back, “Okay,” she smiles tightly, her gaze drifting to the pile of toys in the corner, brightly coloured bits of plastic she’d only ever bought for her friend’s children, and she blows out a shaky breath, “I should go home, Aaron will be waiting for me.” 

They exchange hugs and goodbyes, both of them aware this would be the last time they’d be together like this for a while. Something that weighed heavily on both of them, but was the right decision, neither one of them wanting to hurt the other with things out of their control.  Emily texts Aaron to say she’s on her way back, and she’s proud of herself for making it back to her car before she bursts into tears. 

___

He’s waiting for her when she gets home, the house silent apart from the quiet of the TV that he switches off the moment he hears the front door open and close. She slips off her jacket and her boots and walks into the living room, her shaking smile doing nothing to distract him from her red eyes and puffy face. 

Aaron lays down, already knowing what she needs, and she crawls on top of him, wedged partially between him and the back of the couch as she presses her cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat a comfort she’d never get enough of. He wraps his arms around her and one of his hands cups the back of her head, holding her in place as if anything could pull her away from him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks, his hand running up and down her back, the other still tangled in her hair, “Or do you just want to lay here.” 

She knew that what they’d gone through could have easily broken them apart. Both of them so weighed down by grief, so busy drowning in it, that they could have forgotten to reach for each other. But he’d been her rock, and somehow she’d found it in herself to be his. They’d held on tight and weathered the storm and come out stronger, her love for him now ten times what it was when she married him, something she would have at the time said was impossible. 

“She understood. I..I told her about Elliot,” she says, instead of answering “I didn’t know if I would but I did,” she feels him hold her even tighter, his kiss against her forehead firm, “It felt nice talking about him.” 

He kisses the top of her head again, “It always does,” he says, scratching at her scalp, something he’d done for her since those long nights at the start when she’d cried herself to sleep, “How does it feel to have told your best friend?” 

She smiles sadly and shifts so her chin is resting on his chest so she’s looking at him, “You’re my best friend,” she says softly, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair, “So my best friend has always known.” 

He turns his head and kisses her palm, “You’re my best friend too, sweetheart,” he kisses her palm again, “I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I guess that’s a stupid question.” 

She shakes her head at him, “Never stupid,” she says, her smile tinged with sadness, “It’s strange to think in another life we’d have an almost two-year-old.” 

It was a thought she could never outrun. A ghost of another life walking in tandem with her, forever tapping her on the shoulder and reminding her of what she’d lost, as if she could forget even for a second, whenever she saw a little boy who would be around Elliot’s age. A child’s loud laughter in public that would stop her in her tracks and remind her she’d never know her own son’s laugh or even his cry. A gap in her knowledge of him that could never be filled, the possibilities of what he could have been neverending. 

“I think about that too,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “I wonder what he’d be into. What gift we’d get him for his birthday and what theme the cake Penelope would make for him would have.” 

She laughs, the sound weak and sad as it settles into her hollowed out chest, “When I picture him, I just see a tiny version of you. Right down to his eyes.” 

“I always imagine him with yours.” 

It’s a conversation they’d had countless times since the day they met and lost their son, and one she knows they’ll have for the rest of their lives. The what could have beens and what should have beens as painful as they were happy. Wistful and full of sorrow, as deep and full of unknowns as the sea. 

“I wish things could have been different,” she says, not even attempting to stop her tears, smiling shakily at Aaron as he immediately wipes them away, “I…” she drifts off, not sure that she could ever put it into words, and he nods, encouraging her closer so she can press her face into his neck, his tears splashing into her hair. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, because he did, he understood the loss because it was something they shared, something that was theirs, “I know.” 

“I’ll always remember what the nurse said,” she whispers, thinking of the kind woman who’d looked after them before they were sent home with a memory box they kept safe in their bedroom, “Clara. She told me that he’d only ever known love and warmth. That this world hadn’t had a chance to hurt him and never would,” she sucks in a breath and reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, “I like to think that’s true.” 

He rests his cheek against the top of her head, damp with the tears he’d shed, and he holds her close, providing her with an anchor as he uses her just the same. 

“Me too sweetheart,” he whispers, “Me too.” 

[southern-belle-outcasts]

SHIPPING INFO:// Answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog

REPOST. DON'T REBLOG

(Including Remy in this for the sake of simplicity)

What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

I don't have many because I'm a multishipper. For like, fandom, non-rp content, you have R.omy and A.nidala. That's it. A better question is notp and that's r.ogueneto, I will not be writing it, I filter it to keep it off my dash. But there's all kinds of options for shipping with my muses because I don't have a 'i will only write this one ship' for any one character.

What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

A lot. It really just depends on how comfy I am with the mun and how much we've developed our muses' relationship. Sometimes the muns I've known for a while can just chuck new ideas at me and we just go head first without development but that's a case by case kind of deal. Brakes start pumping for pregnancy stuff mainly because I don't do fetish content for free, that's a paid service you will not find here- long time partners only. Cheating is a nope, just have no desire to write it. I don't mind other toxic situations, or messy open situationships, but flat out cheating just rubs me wrong. And nothing involving a.b.o. Just, no thank you.

How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

I ship r.ogan, so clearly age gaps don't bother me lmao. It's more power dynamics, and it's all fake anyways, just depends on the situation. Most of the muses aren't going for anyone much younger than them anyways, it's more older where they might raise eyebrows.

Are you selective when shipping?

A little bit yes, a little bit no? So I do like my ships of all types, not just romantic, but the ones that tend to the more steamy I am most comfy with established with for a variety of reasons. That's not to say sometimes I can't plot for more specific ship types early on with the right person, it just very much depends. Like, Sara/Warren with @wingedwarren was literally started off by a smut meme out the gate. I have never claimed there aren't exceptions they are just Rare AF and Highly Conditional.

How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

I tag consertatively. Meaning if someone's boss or mom were to peep over their shoulder and might be scandalized, I've probably already tagged it as 'nsfw ish' unless we're talking Prude of the Year levels. Usually once things underneath clothes are being given attention, whether or not said clothes have hit the floor. I don't use the rating toggle because it can shadowban your blog and/or make it impossible to cut the thread. But I do tag.

Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

Oh dear. There's so many. If I missed someone I swear it wasn't on purpose. These are all the ships be it familial, friend, hate, romantic, we don't fucking know yet cuz we're still writing it out, you name it. There is no rhyme or reason to the order so do not read into any of that.

Rogue- @meretrixious, @ifyoucatchacriminal, @suffcring, @iomadachd, @revenantinflames, @thefastestaround, @bothsidesofaquestion, @fatummortem

Gabriel- @nacreousxhearts

Sara- @wingedwarren, @meretrixious, @shizumaikushima

Cisco- @brooklynislandgirl, @meretrixious, @morgansmornings

Farrar- @nacreousxhearts, @iomadachd

Nilza- @iomadachd, @suffcring, @meretrixious, @kylo-wrecked, @bothsidesofaquestion, @brooklynislandgirl, @astral-athame, @halliwellauto

Harry- @reallifejedi, @brooklynislandgirl

Kaylee- @nacreousxhearts, @meretrixous, @arthurthefaceless

Padmé- @mynameisanakin, @brooklynislandgirl

Remy- @brooklynislandgirl, @ifyoucatchacriminal, @nacreousxhearts, @abrushwithdeath, @fatummortem, @bothsidesofaquestion, @down-home-charm, @suffcring

Does one have to ask to ship with you?

At least with a small check-in. A fast way to get blocked is start reblogging my fc posts 'xyz's girlfriend' before we've ever started a thread (yes that's happened in the past).

How often do you like to ship?

Shrug, -waves vaguely at the replies that occasionally grace the dash-

Are you multiship?

I am the captain of an armada, and the ships do not ever cross paths unless there's a lot of chit chat between all muns. Which apart from Armin and some other xpeople has been...never. Namely because once I do a three mun polycule ship, someone blows it up. I've learned it's best not to lmao.

Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

More-or-less. I’m here for juicy writing of all types. {<-stolen}

What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

Uh...most of my ships are crossover or oc. Current implies I would ever leave X-Men, which...no. Obvs r.omy. I don't much engage with the a.rrowverse fandom anymore. D.resden files would probably be Susan/Harry. That's about it for canon stuff. If this question meant rp stuff, I don't feel like listing favorites there.

Finally, how does one ship with you?

Send memes, signal flares, a chancla. Some amount of ooc chitchat is usually helpful (by that i mean about the muses, if there's one thing I don't like doing it's delving into the question "how are you" from someone i barely know cuz it's usually uh...well...it's my life)

tagged by: Taken from @kylo-wrecked and there was probably many others at the time but it's been a minute

tagging: be gay, do crime

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I know you’re on a König streak but I just wanted to bring it back to Simon and Sarah for a bit… esp the little detail about them having a baby?????… how did Simon handle the pregnancy????

Tbh haha I feel a bit bad for people who follow this blog for other than König related content 🧍‍♀️ And I wish to remind you dear souls that you can always hide and filter the yandere König tag!

As for Sarah & Simon ❤️❤️‍🩹❤️

CW: miscarriage, hurt/comfort, fluff

It takes a while for Sarah to get pregnant. Almost six months – which is not unheard of because most couples their age have to try at least one year before any fertility treatments would even be considered. It’s still a blow for Sarah, who is far too optimistic with their chances. She’s a healthy, athletic woman and eats her greens, and anyone can see Simon is virile like a bull, right?

So when her period still arrives month after month, Simon has to give her a reality check. And then when she does get pregnant, there’s a miscarriage almost right away.

It devastates her. It happens at home, and happens at such an early stage that some people wouldn’t even notice it. But for Sarah, it’s the end of the world momentarily. She has waited for so long, she has done everything right. There’s no reason for this to happen, so now she’s sure it’s her fault simply because she stressed too much about getting pregnant.

Simon finds her sobbing on the shower floor, leaning against the wall, head between her hands, water and tears and hollow pain circling down the drain. He doesn’t even take his clothes off as he walks there under the shower to be with her. He knows Sarah is not like him at all when it comes to pain: she doesn’t want to be alone even if she crawls some place quiet to lick her wounds.

She has a good cry there in his arms, and of course he’s sad too. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy – nothing in life is, and even if he would never blame Sarah for having hope, Simon doesn’t trust life all that much… which is why he actually stays strong when things fall to ruin.

To him, the situation is not even remotely close to a ruin, however. It’s a minor setback at best.

"I know you don’t feel like it right now, but we’ll get past this. We’ll try again," he says to her while cradling her in his arms. "We’ll try again, dove."

And Simon has an amazing talent for setting things right even if everything’s gone straight to hell. He sees what’s still left, even if it’s the last bullet in the barrel. In this case, they have a lot more than that: they have a hundred new chances, a thousand new tomorrows.

Sarah's optimism is gone the second time she gets pregnant, which is perhaps a good thing in the end because this time, she doesn’t stress so much. Everything goes nice and well, and they go to their first ultrasound. That’s the first spark of hope reborn, and when another month passes by and everything still goes smoothly, Simon feels brave enough to buy some supplies.

It’s a surprise for Sarah when he comes home with a pram and a few other things. The realization starts to sink in – they’re having a baby.

"Is this really happening?" She whispers to him while running a hand over the freshly bought baby carriage. “Sure looks like it,” he says, watching Sarah caress what he just brought home. He's having so many mixed feelings.

Simon carries the emotional weight of Sarah’s worries during the pregnancy, so much so that he has no time to even think about the swell of emotion that’s roiling inside him.

He's decided he’ll deal with every issue as they arise. There’s no time to stop and feel emotions. In some way, he even thinks there’s no need to feel them. The decision has already been made: they’re going to have a baby and he’s going to be a father. End of story.

(In truth, he’s feeling like he’s doing a bungee jump that never ends.)

Besides, he’s having it easy here: it’s Sarah who has to carry the child for nine months and suffer all the things that come with it. He can’t even think about the baby yet, all he can think about is how to soothe Sarah.

"Will I still be your dove after this?" Sarah asks one night when neither of them can sleep because the pains in her back keep her up all night. For her, it's quite annoying because she was supposed to be in a good shape.

Simon treats these occasions as "free training" of what’s about to come: that is, sleepless nights and a person demanding his attention and devotion. (He, all in all, takes a soldier's attitude to the pregnancy: it’s a mission he has to accomplish with tact and grace.)

"You’ll always be my dove," he assures. He gives her gentle back rubs, rubs her feet, too. Brings her whatever she wants, whether it be pickles or croissants or banana yogurt (Sarah’s food cravings are rich and various)

Toward the end of the pregnancy, they get into an argument about the name. Sarah already decided it long ago, but she’s having second thoughts about it and wants Simon to pick a name. (Oh and btw it’s a girl they’re having!)

Simon is a bit confused – first, he has barely any say in the name and now she’s not having it that he won’t pick one. He doesn’t understand why Sarah gets so riled up when he doesn’t have a name to give right off the top of his head. They’ve never had an argument this bad save for the time when they were still dating and he left during a fight. Sarah accuses him of not even wanting the baby because it will tie him down even more. It turns out she has had this fear ever since they started trying to conceive.

"Hey. Hey." He comes to hug her as she’s on the verge of tears. It’s kind of a talent really, for Sarah to be able to disguise her true feelings and fears from him, even after all these years. "You really think I’m scared of a baby?"

"Yes?" She answers, lower lip quivering, eyes betraying a long-ago distrust. "Isn’t that what you fear the most?"

"No. What I fear is you pushing me away and trying to survive all alone."

"I miss sex," she sighs and tries to have a laugh about it. The pregnancy is getting on her nerves, and at times, she just wants things to go back to the way they were.

Another good cry will fix the issue because deep down Sarah knows he isn't going anywhere. They're in this now, for life. They end up in bed, trying to have a good, nice cuddle, but it's a bit challenging because Sarah is in her last weeks.

"Yeah. Me too," he says while laying next to her, soothing her nerves with his touch like he always does. The weight of his palm caressing her shoulder or simply coming to rest there on her hip always grounds her to the present moment.

"Tell you what," he rumbles in her ear, this time raising his hand to brush away an escaped strand of hair from her face. "You give me another sweet girl, and I'll make you feel better than ever. Deal?"

"Deal."

She immediately breaks into a soft but bright smile. Simon has always called her sweet –the sweetest girl there is to be exact – and if he's not afraid, then there's no need for her to get cold feet either. After all, they both agreed they would live their life to the full, come what may.

[heich0e]

wait if you said that you're gonna stop the oopsy baby series 'for now' are you implying that you're gonna continue it at some point in the future or....? 🤨

I've gotten way more asks about this than I expected, and I won't reply to them all to spare your dash (since they mainly address the same things) but in the interest of transparency here are the highlights:

1. Are you going to continue the mini megumi series? /post any other parenthood fics?

I honestly don't know. I was going to add more to this reply but I've just been staring at the screen for like 10 minutes.

2. Why?

A couple of reasons, but if I'm being really honest I saw a lot of mutuals (who I sincerely like and respect, present tense) posting about how much they dislike parenthood/pregnancy fics and how sick they make them feel and it just didn't feel good.

I want to be really really clear that I TRULY and wholeheartedly believe that everyone is entitled to like what they like, and dislike what they dislike. But the problem is that when you express those opinions while disparaging the people whose opinion are different from yours, or if you choose to be vocal about your dislike of something when you see someone enjoying it, it can be really hurtful. It made me feel uncomfortable about continuing the series if I knew people felt that way and I was possibly upsetting them.

3. Is it because of the "exclusionary" ask?

No! This all happened before I received (or at least saw) that ask. And while I do completely and totally understand where that anon was coming from, and I support them 100% in sharing that very valid criticism with me, the fic probably wouldn't have changed because of it—though I would have started putting a tag in the updates alerting readers to the fact that Kota is described at multiple points throughout the story as being identical to Megumi in case it was sensitizing/alienating/in any way offensive to them.

The inspiration for the fic was that a child who is virtually identical to him shows up at his doorstep, and the entire series is predicated on that idea. I should have made that much clearer at the outset and I really apologize for my oversight and to anyone who I hurt by being careless in that way. I have since gone back and edited each instalment to feature a warning about this in the header, and hope that people who will feel excluded by this plot point can make whatever decision feels best for them in regards to engaging with the fic!

4. I don't like you.

Me neither.

5. I love parenthood fics and I think you should keep writing them.

I also like parenthood fics, and I think they're fun to write! And this is coming from someone who isn't even sure they ever want to have kids themselves. But sort of nodding back to point 2, I don't want to post any kind of fic that people who i consider friends begin vocally posting about disliking. Especially because I really don't follow that many people, so when every third post on my dash is dunking on the trope I'm actively posting about, it just makes me feel kind of sad and unwelcome.

This is absolutely NOT intended to be an indirect/vague about those moots, and if you're reading this I hope you know that I mean that from the BOTTOM of my heart. They are JUST as entitled to this space as I am, and I am in no way at all trying to impose myself and my opinions onto them. I just don't know how to filter anti-trope content from my user experience without inadvertently also filtering the content I DO want to see, and if I'm being honest I just don't think it's not worth losing mutuals who I really like over.

I'm saying all of this with nothing but love, and I hope that no one is too upset about it. I'm sorry if you were enjoying the series and now aren't sure about its future. I'm sorry if me expressing the way I was hurt makes you feel bad too. I'm really logging off now for a bit, and I hope you all take care of yourselves!! Be good, sending love, talk soon <3

[horizon-forbidden-sheesh]

Writing Process: Timelines & Trackers

Okayyy, so I've written about the drafting process in detail. But along the way, logistics problems tend to pop up that can't be solved in words alone.

Mostly, it has to do with knowing exactly where someone is or what someone is doing at the same time as another character I'm writing. For instance, when does Alva get back to the Base? How long is she there before Aloy shows up?

I didn't always take detailed notes on this during my first play-through. And after I abandoned my Scrivener file, (more about this here ⚙️) I decided to refine my timeline.

I already had a great foundation based on my first play-through and my New Game+ speed run. So, I started fresh, with a new game file and good old fashioned pen & paper. I'm still working through this as I write. (Just finished the Scorcher side quest!!)

*This is in a Master-size (A4) Leuchtturm notebook, in which I'm working back-to-front. I prefer purple pen and grid paper always.

Yes. I know. I am a psycho. As I mentioned in the Preamble, gaming timelines are a special interest. 💁🏼‍♀️ Plus, I build client-friendly Gantt charts for design projects IN MY SLEEP. So, taking my timeline from paper into Spreadsheet status felt like a v natural next step.

💡I started with a weekly at-a-glance, mostly because I needed to coordinate when various characters arrived back at Base:

Why yes, I am tracking Zo & Aloy's periods. Because there is no single, magical herb you can take to stop pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I dig this trope! It's important to discuss family planning, and our genre is ✨fantasy✨ after all. But I can only suspend my disbelief so far, and there are other ways to get around this, which a Matriarchal society would probably be clued in on.

💡 This quickly evolved to a daily at-a-glance once Kotallo made it to the Base:

This spreadsheet helped me IMMENSELY as I was writing chapters 13, 14, 16, 17, & 19! Basically any time Aloy & Kotallo are not in the same location. Knowing what Kotallo is doing at the Base while Aloy is off mid-adventure has been super important to make sure their Focus calls work and feel natural.

Likewise, knowing exactly what day Erend returns, and how long they have before Aloy gets back all helps with continuity and flow.

Other Things I'm Tracking:

💡Datapoints. The whole point of the GAIA Gang is that they're sorting through the data Aloy collected during the events of HZD. And since that was an absolute whirlwind year for Aloy, I'm thinking her files are a fucking shit show—and almost none of the people sorting through them even know how to read. 😵

So, I started by accumulating all the files by location. I am assuming they're probably geo-tagged—if not, they're at least assembled in order of pick-up, which would mean they're ordered by Aloy's general location at time-of-discovery anyway.

*I crossed them out as I moved them to the next spreadsheet tab...

From this hot mess, I figure that Zo, in her infinite wisdom, took one look at Aloy's files and went, "Oh hell no."

💡Here's the way I imagine Zo organized her playlists, much to Varl, Erend, & Kotallo's relief (Meanwhile, Alva re-filtered everything, and discovered entirely new metadata categories, obviously):

The most important detail here was time!! Most of these are like 1 minute long... but 1 minute in the game is like, 20 minutes IRL. So you've gotta figure the GAIA Gang is back at Base binge-watching an entire docu-series, while simultaneously learning how to read (and procrastinating with hours and hours of bodycam battle footage).

No wonder they're always busy when Aloy shows up!

💡 And yes, these are all tabs on a single spreadsheet:

💡 "Population" is literally just a mess of numbers & formulas as I try to figure out how we went from ~20 E-9 Cradle inhabitants to multiple tribes in the span of ~700 years.

I mean in 3041 we're prolly sitting at like... maybe ~15k in the U.S.?

*On second thought, that Oseram number is probably higher.

Anywayyyy, as fun as a blank page is, my brain really does work best on a grid. The process is totally intuitive, and I create the necessary docs as I go, the same as I would for any client or project. Sometimes, you need to explain things in a way so everyone is on the same page, and I find spreadsheets invaluable in that regard. (Y'all should see my wedding planning spreadsheet, lol.)

This whole process has helped me to find what works for me, and writing fanfic is truly preparing me to write my own original works. What I've discovered is that spreadsheets are part of my flowstate. They bring me a deep sense of peace and they help me to stay on track and oriented while I'm in the weeds.

🖤 Really, I want to come back to something I said in my second 'Process' post: Do what feels natural. Everyone is different. If being 'organized' steals your joy, don't do it. Stay messy! Whatever! Who cares? The most important part is that you find your flowstate.

I found this old Hindu saying while I was copywriting for a Chinese Medicine client, and it really stuck with me: "There are a hundred paths up the mountain, so it doesn't matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain telling everyone else that their path is wrong."

I'm just here documenting my own path up my mountain. And part of me thinks that it's all incredibly self-indulgent and cringe, but hey—when has blogging ever not been?

If you've read this far, I'm grateful. It's all a bit shouting-into-the-void out here, especially when you're this deep into a niche that moved on a while ago. But I've always loved a slowburn. (And if you do too, you might consider reading The Marshal.)

xo, Sheesh.

[rahleeyah]

So first time fic writer wanting to know if I should publish to ao3? I wrote it primarily as a way to deal with this past week’s episode but I’m nervous to publish. Do I make the leap? Do you have any advice?

You absolutely should publish. Anything you've written is worth sharing. Whatever the reasons for writing it, however nervous you might be, it's ok!!! It's nerve wracking sharing your stuff for the first time but it's a good step to putting yourself out there, meeting new people, and becoming more comfortable and confident in yourself and your work. Whatever you have to say someone out there wants to read it. I mean you can just keep your work to yourself if you really want to, but when we open ourselves up to people we open ourselves up to a lot of positive experiences and it sounds to me like you want to do this. So do it!

Couple little tips and tricks for posting:

Make sure you rate your fic. You have the option not to rate it, but lots of people sort and filter by rating, and you'll never turn up for those people if you don't have a rating. When in doubt just mark it "T"

Archive warnings. Since it's your first time posting you may not know there is a set of Big Issue Warnings an author can choose to warn for on their stories. It looks like this:

You have to choose an option. There is a difference between "choose not to use" and "no archive warnings apply." "Choose not to use" means those things may be in the story, and indicates readers should tread lightly. Some people will filter out "choose not to" fics. If there's no non-con or major character death or underage or whatever, pick "no archive warnings apply."

If you are writing in Google docs and cutting and pasting into the AO3 text box let me know. It will automatically add an extra line break between each of your paragraphs but there are ways around that. This is a stylistic thing some people don't care about but some people won't read a story that's formatted that way.

Make sure you put your characters and ships in here:

Again that is for people who are searching and filtering. You don't have to - you shouldn't - tag every character who appears in a story but do hit the main ones. You can add whatever additional tags you like to tell people about your story; I almost never use them but I tag for big things, like I put an unplanned pregnancy tag on hov and I put an eo endgame tag on Mia so people would know what they were getting.

If you have a Twitter account, post the link to your story there! Post the link to your story here, too, and be sure to tag it so people can find it. I always do hashtags for show names, character names, and ship names.

You can also crosspost to FFN. believe it or not some people are still exclusively reading there. FFN is a bear to post on tho so if you want to do it and you haven't done it before come back and I'll post a tutorial.

It's your first time out, so answer people's comments. I know how that sounds coming from me, but you aren't posting three concurrent stories that update almost every day. This is your first time, so interact with people. That's a good way to get them to come back for more. And it's a really, really good way to make friends.

Post it and then walk away. Don't sit by your phone and wait to see what the reaction is, you'll get all up in your head - or at least I do. Give yourself something else to do for a little while.

Be excited!!

If anybody else has some tips or encouragement for our friend please leave a note!

[5ummit]

What are tropes/tags that you absolutlely hate? Like you see them in a fic and instantly go 'Nope nope nope'

Oh boy, where do I even start? You really want to know how obnoxiously picky I am? Okay, you asked for it…

I guess I'll start with the biggest and most obvious one, the one I immediately exclude from every AO3 search, which usually knocks out like a third of my fic options right off the bat: fluff. Then there's anything even related to fluff and/or healthy normal relationships, including but not limited to: friends to lovers, soulmates, established relationship, safewords, aftercare, SSC, and absolutely anything to do with babies, kids, or pregnancy.

The other major category I typically refuse to read is AUs, though tragically there's no good way to filter them out because there's too damn many and tagging is so inconsistent. Canon divergence or AUs where the canon events could still plausibly play out with only minor tweaking is fine (ex: omegaverse), but the wildly non-canon stuff like high school AUs, fantasy AUs, historical AUs, etc are hard no's. I read fanfic because I want to read more about the characters and stories I already love and if you transplant them into a completely different setting with completely different backgrounds and life experiences, I'm sorry, but they are no longer the same characters – that's original fiction. There's nothing wrong with original fiction, it's just not what I want to read.

I've mentioned it previously but extreme violence, gore, and body horror are squicks for me. Reader fic is a BIG nope. Other misc tags and genres off the top of my head that I avoid: het fic, body swap, genderbend, time travel/loops, roleplay, and miscommunication.

As for fandom specific tropes, I won't read Actual Good Guy Rumlow and I especially won't read anything where he and Bucky are portrayed as being in anything even resembling a healthy relationship. And last but not least, I absolutely 100% will not read dom Bucky. He can be allowed to top sometimes, as a treat, but that boy is a sub and I will entertain nothing else.

[pinnedangel]

you can call me angel, i am a switch vers. this is approximately one half hard kink blog, one half place to put down long rambling tangents for the sake of making people read them. i do not content tag posts that are not my own, except for cnc-related posts explicitly mentioning rape, which are tagged #rapekink. check below the cut for a general content list and some of my personal boundaries/blockable offenses. i am single and not looking, although i do very much enjoy flirtation or sexting. i'm not always the best with super long conversations, because i'm autistic and social interaction exhausts me a lot of the time even if i'm genuinely enjoying it. i do love getting asks though, you can send me just about anything, kink related or not, and as long as it doesn't include any of my hard limits, i'll probably answer it. this is my main blog, but not my main account, so there will sometimes be gaps in content when i'm not logged in here, but for now i've been logged in for a couple months which is why the non-kink content has started to bleed through. my personal tag is #saintly thoughts.

as an advertisement and warning, on this blog you may see posts about:

-consensual nonconsent, including content that directly refers to rape

-dubious consent, including intoxication and somnophilia

-corruption, mindbreaking, manipulation, gaslighting, and abusive dynamics

-fearplay, including kidnapping/captivity, gratuitous bodily harm, and threats of death. may also include snuff, but generally i'm more into the threat of being killed than the actual idea of it

-gender play, in the sense of non-detransition related forced feminization and masculinization

-primal, predator/prey, and petplay

-monsterfucking, oviposition, egg pregnancy and laying

-size difference and object insertion

-fauxcest, heirophilia, dollification, hypnosis, overstimulation and edging, exhibitionism, impact play, knifeplay, general bdsm dynamics, and more.

i try to keep this post updated with at least my most regular topics, but this is not an exhaustive list.

soft limits:

gore, necrophilia, age regression, boot licking/humping, violence that involves losing teeth, scarification/tattooing, parental fauxcest, direct snuff, gunplay

these are things you might see posts about occasionally but i’d prefer not to be engaged with on. if i’m reblogging posts that include them, it’s either enjoyment from a nonsexual or very abstracted perspective, something i’ve reblogged because it includes other elements i do enjoy, or something that i am just starting to explore interest in but haven’t figured out how i enjoy it.

hard limits/filtered tags:

pregnancy/birth, lactation, hucow, piss, scat, vomit, abdl, armpits, detransition, misgendering, feeding/feederism, beastiality, feet, needles/piercing, amputation, castration, extreme body modification

i’m not going to block you if you follow me and post about any of my hard limits. i follow plenty of people who post about some of them but post about other stuff i like, that’s why i have the tags filtered. i just might not follow you back if that’s your main focus. i pass no judgements on kinks as long as they’re between consenting parties and you’re not trying to put your kink content on the posts of people who don’t want it there.

if i block you, it's most likely because i looked at your blog upon you following me and could not determine your age or even if you were a real person. i also tend to block cishet people, as i would rather they not interact with my personal content.

if you see me tagging posts with #🎥 that’s simply a way of keeping track of things that not only do i enjoy from a personal standpoint, but also that make me think of the dynamic between two of my characters. sometimes the kink posts i write are about those two as well. it's mostly a dynamic centered around nonconsent, manipulation, and general emotionally (sometimes physically!) unsafe kink practices, which are things i've been exploring quite a bit lately. you can ask about them if you'd like, otherwise i probably won't directly say much about them on this blog.

[kiirschtein-archive]

⋆ 「 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬. 」 ⋆

about me. — i’m dahlia! i’m a cishet white woman in my twenties (lmao so exciting, right? /s). i work full-time so i don’t always have as much energy as i would like, but i still love being here!

this is a sideblog, so i follow and interact from @laserbrains, my main/star wars writing blog.

dni & byf. — minors, ED blogs, terfs, transphobes/any lgbtphobe, racists, sexists. i will not follow individuals who do not tag/warn for certain topics that bother me personally. also, please do not trauma dump on me.

nsfw. — since i am an adult and often post nsfw content, this blog is meant for those 18+ only, and anyone who does not have an indication of their age on their blog will be blocked. since nsfw content is so frequent here, i don’t have a specific tag for it for filtering purposes, so please follow at your own discretion. all written persons are also 18+

dark content. — i will likely engage with and even create content with darker themes from time to time. these works (and all of my works in general) will be marked appropriately with warnings. i try to be as thorough as i can but i may occasionally miss something, so please feel free to politely let me know if i’ve accidentally left something out!

aged up characters. — i will engage with and likely create content in which some characters are aged up. i would advise you not to follow if this is something that bothers you.

descriptors. — i try to write gender-neutral reader as often as possible. certain nsfw scenarios will usually cater to an afab audience, and occasionally strictly fem!reader. i also usually do my absolute best to refrain from using any descriptors of reader in my work, at least outside of anything necessary to establish a certain setting/au/etc. if anything happens to deviate from this, it will be tagged to the best of my ability.

requests. — i will write headcanons, blurbs/drabbles, and occasionally full fics when requests are open, but the more intensive the piece, the longer it will probably take. but overall it will depend on my level of motivation and energy; i will do my best to fulfill them within my limits. however, i certainly can’t guarantee getting to everything. please don’t take it personally if i don’t get around to something in particular. sometimes things just don’t click, and my adhd (alongside other mental afflictions) also sort of runs the circus that is my brain lol

do not repost. — i do not consent to the reposting of my works here or on any other platform.

𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆:

attack on titan. — jean kirschtein, armin arlert, eren jaeger, levi ackerman, reiner braun, connie springer, erwin smith, bertholdt hoover

jujutsu kaisen. — satoru gojo, yuta okkotsu, toji fushiguro, megumi fushiguro, suguru geto, kento nanami, yuji itadori, ryomen sukuna, toge inumaki, choso

obey me! — lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor, diavolo, barbatos, solomon, simeon

buddy daddies. — kazuki kurusu, rei suwa

content i’m okay with. — age play, anal, begging, biting/scratching/marking, blindfolding/sensory play, bondage/restraints, breeding kink, choking/breath play, cockwarming, collaring, cnc, corruption, cum play, dacryphilia, daddy kink, degradation/humiliation, dirty talk, discipline/brat taming, dubcon, dumbification, edging/denial/neglect, exhibitionism, fingering, gangbanging, hair-pulling, hate sex, impact play, intercrural, masturbation, mommy kink, noncon, oral sex, overstimulation/forced orgasms, pain play, pegging, praise, pregnancy, public sex, sex pollen, somnophilia, squirting, stepcest, switching/role reversal, thigh riding, threesomes/group sex, voyeurism

content no-go’s. — self-harm/suicide, eating disorders, pedophilia, omegaverse, scat/piss, vore, heavy pet-play. drug use is on thin ice; it depends on the situation. same with some stalking/obsession themes. other things may be added/changed in the future.

side note. — i feel like this should go without saying, but fiction is separate from real life and i do not promote/condone all themes in works that i create or interact with.

[imagineitdearies-old]

Hello! Hope your doing well. I do have a silly question to ask as an author and I mean no disrespect whatsoever with it.

One of my favorite fanfics is misty dream by corviids. If you read the story then you know that Luke has the ability to get pregnant but it’s not an a/b/o story.

Once again nothing wrong with that. But, while I believe to be wrong I saw a comment asking how it was possible for Luke to be pregnant or in getting pregnant. Corviids themselves put a note in the newest chapter explaining that but since your writing a story on abo I decided to come to you.

Is it really wrong to go that way when writing your OWN story. I mean, does it really have to be an abo story for your characters to have the ability to get pregnant? Is it like breaking some sort of unspoken rule where if you were to break it you’re offending someone else?

Please once more I don’t mean any disrespect with this. I’m genuinely curious as to know why this is some sort of issue. And not speaking of misty dream but I’ve read countless of other stories where this is an actual issue but specifically when it comes to male pregnancy and the story is not abo.

Once again, if this ask is rude please ignore as I won’t like to bring any problems. Thank you!

(Edit: somehow this got queued instead of saved as a draft, sorry everyone for the initial incomplete post 😂)

Hi anon! I don’t find this question rude and hope I can answer in a way that's clear I’m expressing my own thoughts and opinions, which you seem to be asking for, and that I'm not trying to tell anyone else what to do.

First and foremost, no, I don't think it's wrong to do *anything* in a story actually, because in the end it's fiction. If you properly tag things, people have no legit reason to complain about what they decided to click on and read. You don't have to justify anything beyond that. 'Don't Like Don't Read' is the gospel of ao3, I will always hold to it and encourage others to do the same.

Now, your further questions center around a curiosity as to why some people don't like unexplained mpreg. I know there's plenty who can't stand mpreg point blank, and always filter out that tag (which is why I always tag it even if it's only mentioned in my fics), and then some who only like it when explained as part of an a/b/o verse.

It certainly is a thought experiment as to why. Personally? I think the reason some people don't enjoy unexplained mpreg as much is because, while it is wish-fulfillment for some, to others it can sometimes feel like putting a 'heteronormative bandaid' so to speak on a queer ship--as it's very different even from a trans person getting pregnant, at least in my opinion. That can really knock me out of the story (though it may be a healing fantasy for others, i'm sure). I'm not offended--I just don't enjoy it usually.

(Anyone who feels truly offended by such a thing when they could be offended by like ANY of the real world problems we have should rethink their priorities 😂)

On the other hand, omegaverse can sometimes feel more in touch with the queer experience. Usually there is some minority and/or stigma still with being omega male or alpha female, for instance. It often involves other queer experiences too--presenting suddenly and often traumatically as alpha/omega can resonate with those who experienced body dysmorphia during puberty, and dealing with rigid societal relationship/gender roles is relatable to everyone but definitely those who are gay and/or trans.

I think heats/ruts also can resonate somewhat as a queer fantasy; both are like a cathartic release of the character's pent up sexual desire and feelings that they haven't allowed themselves to indulge in or society has barred them from, and then BOOM there is (often) no choice anymore. Being forced to accept one's sexual desire during heat/rut is not dissimilar to the tipping point many queer people have in their journey of self-acceptance, and so is yet another detail that makes the whole strange omega-canon resonate with queerness still.

(Sorry, you asked the a/b/o author this question, so you get to hear me wax poetic about omegaverse for a second 😂)

Personally, even just a small magical spell/curse/biological anomaly explanation can make mpreg enjoyable for me, but I'm not everybody. Plenty of (queer or not) people don't like mpreg at all, fantastically explained or not, and it's not your job to please everyone. There's nothing offensive about making any fictional character pregnant without explanation! It may not be everyone's cup of tea--but that doesn't mean you have to change your story. Especially among lucemond shippers, I doubt it will stop you from getting readership. And if someone jumps into your comments telling you how to write, tell them where to stick it!

Write what you want, block without prejudice, and take care of yourself anon <3

[goldie90]

Listen, no one said its "immoral" to talk about women getting horny or even that you're "going to hell" for it. Children will learn about those things from trusted, educated individuals like their parents or people who have the knowledge to properly explain those concepts to them. They shouldn't be learning about pussy getting wet from strangers on the Internet.

And let's be real, this conversation started as with "Hey, maybe tag your explicit content so we can filter it out." You are putting words into people's mouths, acting like the purity police are knocking on your door. Most people don't wanna see n/s/f/w randomly on their dash when they're not in the mood. All anyone has asked of you during the beginning of this conversation was to tag your things.

You literally keep exposing the fact that you don't have common courtesy for anyone else, that you're immature and that you only appreciate people you kiss your ass because you're entitled.

Okay firstly, NO it didn´t just started with this, but with someone harassing me all night long, firstly on anon, then off anon from different accounts as I found out later. Not to mention that with each message this person was getting more and more disrespectful, or the stalkerlike behavior of screenshooting my answers etc. This kind of behavior is sick and I think it shouldn´t be surprising that I´m not willing to discuss with someone like this. Same goes for the a**holes who showing up here to throw insults at me.

Now to the other point: Anon, this is a genuine question and if you can honestly answer it with “yes” then my apologies, but personally I can only answer it with “no”: Have you ever meet a child on tumblr who was so young that they don´t know about those things yet? I didn´t. I never met a person here who wasn´t at least a teen. And this leads to some other questions...

Anon, please try to remember, back when you were a teen...

Didn´t you know what sex is?

Didn´t your mother (or father, grandma/grandpa etc.) already told you about those things? 

Didn´t you talked about those things with your friends?

Did you never had a boyfriend/girlfriend before you were 18?

And I don´t wanna ask you this, because this is a very personal question, so instead of asking you, I will now talk about myself: At age 18 I hadn´t been a virgin for quite a long time. No, I already started to have sex four years before, at age 14. Now you can argue that this was quite young and that some others are not ready at this age and that´s right. Everyone has their own pace. Some people make/made their first experiences as young as I did, some do/did even younger and some others only do/did a few years later. And yes, some people wait/waited until adulthood and that´s fine. There is no right or wrong when it comes to such a personal decision. Only things that matter are that it´s your own decision, means you do it because you want to, not because you feel pressured etc., that when you are a teen your partner is someone the same age, or close to your age, someone you trust (and in the ideal case someone you love) and that you know how to act responsible and prevent things like stds and unwanted pregnancies. But I digress. What I´m trying to say is teens KNOW about sex, doesn´t matter if they already have sex or not, they know about it. Their parents already gave them “the talk”, their teachers most likely did too. They did read about it, talked with their friends about it etc. So you see, the “they shouldn´t learn about this from strangers on the internet” argument doesn´t make sense here, because they´re not learning about this from me - they already know. I would fully understand your concern if the thing we are talking about would be a full written out explicit porn scene, but this isn´t the case. I didn´t went into detail, hell t the word p*ssy wasn´t even in it, so I´m sorry but this thing isn´t even worth the fuss you make about it. 

[wily-one24]

fic writers: 2, 5, 6, 12, 46

Here we go!

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

-> Angst (Ha!)

-> Smut (Well, yeah).

-> Tumblr Prompt (haven't gotten one of those for a while).

Angst. Smut. Tumblr Prompts. Yep... absolutely reflect my writing style. (For reference, the rest of them were 'Alternate Universe'/ 'Alternate Universe: Stripper/Exotic Dancer'/ Dubious Consent/ Plot What Plot/ Humor).

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

You didn't specify which fic you're asking about. So... uh... I don't know. Like, I'm always ready and willing to discuss my fics. People just need to ask away. Send me an ask on tumblr. Comment on the fic itself. Send me an email. Message me... whatever. I am the easiest person to approach, honestly.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

Again, you never specified a fic.

Imma gonna go D5 (Deep Deep Down Where the Darkness Dwells, but honestly, who's gonna type that out all the time? D5 it is. I really wanted to find a place to explore a scene that I want to add, but there just hasn't been room/ a time/ a place for it. It would disrupt the flow of it. But I can picture the scene. It would be more of a flashback regarding Elliot's past... but the flashbacks belong to Olivia's trauma.

I am planning to bring it up, more in conversation style, it's just... I can PICTURE IT, it's a very strong scene in my head.

12. Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

Not that I am aware? I'm actually fairly open to writing things and have explored a lot of things outside my comfort zone when prompted, but I don't have any strong dislikes for tropes... at least not that I have changed my mind about.

I don't really read cheating fics. I don't tend to read pregnancy/baby fics (which are different from fics which HAVE pregnancy and babies in them, but really revolve around other things), or alpha/omega, or like... twee AUs like "they're all in high school and every character no matter where and how their ages lie in canon are all in the same year level"... or "basically the same, but the character defining bad thing didn't happen, so they're all happy and fluffy". I don't enjoy things that erase canon.

I take my fics to weird/extreme places, but I start them in canon and cleave to the canon closely. At least what is canon up to that point.

None of these have really changed, tbh.

In the opposite direction, I guess, I used to be a fan of, like, teacher/student fics when I was much younger, but I have really gone off that trope the more I have learned about it and the older that I get.

46. Do you prefer writing on your phone or on a computer (or something else)? Do you think where you write affects the way you write?

I used to handwrite my fics. I have pages and pages of handwritten stuff in old notebooks from my uni days. It flowed so well from ink to paper, it helped my brain I think. Maybe I should try and start doing that again?

But right now I pretty much exclusively type on my computer. I need a keyboard and a screen (and a word processor type program).

A phone? Which psycho is out there writing fic on their phone? omg.

I mean, maybe somebody could... but not me. I could never write an 18,000 word chapter on a fuckingi phone screen. That's insane.

Because I use my laptop, I mostly write fic in my house, in my loungeroom, on my work desk, sometimes on the beanbag. Rarely watching TV, usually with music on. Although, sometimes I can half watch/ half write. But if I really need to concentrate, then it's music.

When I was handwriting, I used to write on the train all the time... or even at work when I had a spare moment. Wherever I could, really. I can't say whether or not if affected my fic, but I was awfully more prolific. I could update in a matter of days, rather than weeks. Same amount of words per chapter, too.

To be fair, let's not blame the handwriting/typing, train/work/home ambience 100%. It's been a decade and a half, lots of things have changed, including my mental health and physical health.

Cool quesitons, @dahllaz.

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Kinktober day 1: Yandere! Bully! Xiao x afab! Reader – overstimulation.

Warnings: general yandere themes, mentioned past stalking, implied kidnapping to a degree, toxic relationship, toxic behavior, unhealthy mindset, obsessive behavior, forced ‘relationship’, threats of violence, choking/violence, attempted escape.

Nsfw warnings: non-con, threats of pregnancy, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, overstimulation, sex toys, multiple orgasms, degradation, squirting.

Tell me if I missed any warnings. Some of these warnings will not be tagged because the filter system will automatically be hidden from search results, so read the warnings that are typed out on this post very carefully before proceeding.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the actions or behaviors that take place in this piece of fiction. None of this should be considered romantic or even normal as it extremely toxic and dangerous.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND EVERYTHING THAT IS HOLY, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

Wordcount: 2365k

Barely edited.

==

 You’re not sure how long he’s been playing that damn game of his – you’re too dazed out to even keep track of time properly. The vibrator keeps going off inside of you, arching your back as you cum for the nth time tonight. Your lips were bleeding from how hard you bit them, hands clenching the sheets underneath you. They’re soaked in your cum, legs trembling as you try your best not to scream.

Everyone was on holiday, your parents gone for it this year, leaving you to rot in the dorms… or it would have been the dorms, had Xiao left you alone, for once. He decided to bring you home, apparently, introducing you to his adoptive father as his girlfriend – you held your hand back, not wanting to cause a scene. But looking back on it now, you should have. If you caused a scene, maybe the older man would have let you free at the very least or call the cops on his very own son.

“Scream and I’ll make sure you wish you were never born,” was the first he said when you made it to the penthouse, grip on your wrist tight. It left a bruise, and you hid it with the sleeve of your sweater. Zhongli didn’t stay long, going to attend matters with the company he retired from. Saying something about how the newer generation needed some guidance, leaving you and Xiao alone. You should have known Xiao had plans in mind, dragging you to his room his father left clean for him, not bothering to show you the guest room you were supposed to stay in.

When he pulled out the vibrator, you felt your heart stop – especially when he started up his computer, mumbling something about the newest event only being a few days long and he missed most of it. And when he told you to strip, to lay on his bed as he put lube on the toy, you knew you were in for a long night. You fought back, at first, biting his hands and kicking him away.

“Stop fighting back already, unless you want me to punish you even more.” It didn’t get you to stop, but when he pinned your hands above you head and wrapped the other one around your neck, you almost wished he would just kill you. Things would have been easier, that way. Things would have been easier, better even, if he hated you.

Which led to now, your muffled whimpers barely reach his ears, the volume of his headphone low enough so he could hear you. The door was locked, too, and even if you made a run for it, he would catch you before you could even unlock the door. Simple things were harder to do when you’re in a panic. He knew that, biting your ear as he stuffed you full with the toy, growling out to be quiet.

All you can hear is aggressive typing, the click of a mouse, and his constant mumbling about how bullshit of a game it was. You throw your head back as you feel another orgasm building up, your toes curling. Another sigh of frustration as the clicking gets louder. You cum with a worn-out squeal, body going limp even as the toy continues to go off. You couldn’t take anymore of this.

“Xiao…,” you hoarsely call out. He doesn’t react, so you don’t bother trying again. You could take it out on your own… maybe you should. Even if it meant he’ll be meaner, rougher, cumming in you with the threats of knocking you up. He doesn’t know you’re on the pill, which is laughable, really, considering he almost stalks you everywhere. So, you do just that, trying your best not to sigh in relieve when your tired body can finally rest.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you look at his back, still playing the game. You eye the door – if you’re quiet about it, you can get up from the bed and unlock it. During times like this, he’s always distracted, even if the volume is low. Your body twitches when he starts to curse.

“Fucking shit… this is why I hate playing with others. They can’t play for shit…” more aggressive typing and clicking. You wonder what game he’s playing but shake your head to gather your thoughts. You’re naked but your suitcase was left in the living room. You could just slip some shoes on with a shirt and pair of shorts. You don’t have to put on underwear right now – it’ll just take up more time.

Quietly, you sit up, breathing uneven. You lift your leg, gently placing one foot down on the wooden floor. No reaction. You let it fall a bit, doing the same with your other leg. Your entire body freezes when the bed creaks the slightest bit. All Xiao does is sigh, eyes still glued to the screen. Gulping, you get up, legs wobbly from the overstimulation. You’re surprised you don’t fall over, instead walking like a newborn baby deer.

The wood feels cold against your feet, each step light and as quiet as you could be. He doesn’t turn his head to your direction, doesn’t even notice. When you make it to the door, you hold your breath – you wait for him to cruse loudly again as one of his teammates fuck up. That’s when you unlock the door and open it, gently closing it when you hear aggressive typing. He should attend some sort of therapy. In jail.

On the other side of the door now, you let a tiny breath. Your gaze lands on the living room, so close yet so far – were hallways always this long? Or was it your anxiety that made them seem longer? Either way, you don’t run, simply walking slowly as your legs tremble. Almost there. Almost near the suitcase, almost near freedom, almost near, -

Click.

You make a run for it the moment you hear his door open, clothes be dammed. You forgot he’s on a sports team, you forgot he was faster than you, stronger too. You forgot that no-one could hear your screams as he grabs you from behind, slapping one hand over your mouth because he doesn’t like those type of screams. You forgot that he wasn’t as clueless as he should be.

“Such a brat, trying to leave like that, don’t you know I’m aware of everything? Don’t tell me you thought I was that invested in the game. You’re an idiot if you did.”

You want to scream but settled for trying to bite his palm. He lets go, sliding down said hand to your neck, squeezing a bit too tight. Your air flow is cut off, leaving you gasping. “First, you bit me when I was trying to be nice, by letting you put the vibrator in yourself, on whatever setting you wanted. Then you kicked me when I had to do it myself because you’re such a brat, and now you’re trying to run away.”

He clicks his tongue when you claw at his hand. He doesn’t bother to drag you, instead slinging you over his shoulder, ignoring the way you screamed and kicked. He called you an idiot, but he was one too, for thinking you would ever go along with him willingly. Maybe he was in denial, of how much you hated him. If he had just left you alone, maybe you would have considered forgiving him for what he did in middle school. After many years, that is.

“Let me go, let me go! Why are you even doing this to me!? What have I ever done to you!?”

“Everything.” That’s all he says as he closes the door behind him, locking it before walking over to his bed, throwing you on it. Your body bounces, looking anywhere but at him. You can see his teammates asking where he went on the live chat. “So, you’ll have to pay for it.”

He doesn’t bother to take his shirt off, simply undoing his pants before pulling his cock out – your breath hitches when you see it. You don’t want this, you don’t want to let him in, but it’s not like he ever listened to you in the first place. Which is why as he stuffs you full of his cock, you still try to push him away, palms flat against his chest. You can feel how his muscles move with every breath he takes, body caging you in.

Your slick was still there, softening the impact of him just shoving his dick in, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It burns, you’re not sure if he knows it, but he doesn’t stop when you tell him to. Unlike most times, he doesn’t let you adjust, simply fucking into you like you were some sort of flesh light. And maybe you were, your hole getting slicker with every thrust. It’s not because you want it; it’s just your body’s natural reaction. To make everything hurt just a bit less.

“Trying to run out naked like that – do you want others to use you like a toy? I always knew you were – fuck – a slut, but I didn’t think – ah – you would go that far.” The bed creaks with every thrust, and your body bounces in tune with his. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, trying to get a hold of something. Anything. You want a distraction from the way the pain is slowly turning into pleasure, from his voice as he whispers into your ear.

“I – I didn’t want this – oh! – I didn’t want to be here! I wanted, no want to, g-get away from you -!”

You think you’re crying, but you’re not sure. One of his hands sneak to where you’re connected, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. It makes you squeal, body still sensitive from before. If he keeps this up, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. But the more you fight, the rougher he gets. Your walls clench around him, and your eyes widen in horror when you realize you’re close.

You shouldn’t be close already.

“Ah fuck, you really… really are a whore. Fuck, how does everyone think you’re this… innocent person? Look at you – you’re just about ready to cream all over my cock,” he bites your earlobe, drawing out a squeak. You don’t want this, but he does. You hate how he knows your body, what makes you cum, what makes you whimper and moan. But clearly, he enjoys it. He enjoys how your body reacts to his touches.

“Just – just accept it already; your body wants me. Just admit that you’re -ah, fuck – a whore who c-can’t control themselves.” He’s panting with each word, hips smashing into yours, trying to go even deeper. Every time he pulls out, your cunt tries to suck him right back in. You hated it, truly hated it. But you can’t control the way your whimpers slip out, or how your orgasm nears the move he moves.

Physical pleasure has never felt so… bad. It was your body, yes, but it didn’t feel like you were in control of it. The pressure building up in your lower parts becomes too much, too strong, and you hate the way your back arches when you cum with a scream. It was too much, the sensitivity still there from earlier. Your legs tremble around on either side of his body, sobbing when he doesn’t stop. You know he doesn’t plan on stopping.

“You just creamed all over me – but you didn’t squirt like last time. Whores like you should always squirt, mmh…

His words are slurred, nipping at your neck. You sob again when he puts more pressure on your clit. He’s going to overstimulate you, he’s going to overstimulate you, he’s going to overstimulate you –

“I’m not stopping until you can’t walk anymore.” His breath is warm on your ear, and you want to slap away his hand when he wipes away your tears. When he leans in for a kiss, you turn your face the other way, shutting your eyes tight. He’s delusional if he thinks you’re going to kiss him. All he does his click his tongue in annoyance.

“You’re so stupid, for trying to run away like that. You knew punishment would have been worse the moment you got up from the bed. I would have forgiven you, if you just came back and apologized for walking out the door. But I guess sluts don’t learn their lessons their first time.” he presses into you more, and another orgasm starts to build up.

You’re not sure how many times he made you cum after that, pulling out whenever you felt too tight, making you cum around his fingers. It was like he was trying to save the ‘best’ for last, drowning in all of your whimpers and fucked out face. By the time he’s almost done with you, your body is too sensitive, cumming at any stimulation he gives that even overs the smallest pleasure.

“C-can’t, Xiao, too much – fuck! – p-please, mercy…” your tongue lolls out, eyes rolling to the back of your head again. cumming again, you squeal, hands about to rib his shirt from how tight your grip is. He feels something wet on his lower half, only to look down and see that you squired all over him. His bedsheets are drenched with your cum, and his is about to be added.

“See? I knew you could, no would, squirt all over me. Fuck, you made a mess. You really are a whore after all.” His pace picks up, groaning and cursing into your ear. None of his word’s resisters in your mind, only your body reacts to any of his movements. When one last strong thrust, he cums, spilling his seed into you. Some of it leaks out, and your body falls limp when he finally allows you to rest.

Xiao wipes away some of the sweat on your forehead before pecking it.

“If you had been good, none of this would have happened.”

[joshslater]

4k

A little over one year since the 3k mark and I’m well over 4k followers, despite being quite infrequent with updates for lots of reasons. It’s always uplifting to see comments, reblogs, and likes (in that order). I try to filter what I post here a bit, and only dump everything in my Patreon, but I think there are some 80+ different stories there that haven’t been posted here so I might have to go over them and post a few more.

Armani A classic monkey paw story, but this time dressed in Armani.

Back to Programming A short caption about the post-revolution mind control. Bleecker House This is my take on a well done nerd-to-jock story where I felt the rationale was decent.

Blue A scallification story with an easy to see twist. Based on another story with a more limited scope, but I immediately thought about this story instead.

Boxing Day I really just wanted to explore putting someone in boxing gloves for an extended period of time...

Builder Bob I wanted to write something proper involving boots with just a subtle amount of transformation.

Collection Fee Body swaps and man boobs. I had to make a really weird body swap mechanic for this one to work, if indeed it does work.

The Deserter Military body swap. I can of ignore all the practical future issues save for hinting at them.

Dionysus A more fanciful tale of rapid transformations.

Do-over There are quite a few sibling body swap stories, but I think the real gold mine for plausible body swaps are within the foster care.

Eastern Tennessee A story of self transformation. I like this ones, but it’s too far between good ideas for them.

Fae Security A little supernatural misunderstanding based on a photo I saw.

Golden Years Spirit based body transformation, but this time from the supernatural point of view.

Grunts N’ Poses More magical/spiritual muscle gain. Completely lacking of depth, but I like to write them and some people like to read them.

The House at the Edge of Town One of the 2021 Halloween trio of stories. This one solidly in Halloween theme. I had thought about the story element of detachable dicks and witches before, but finally worked out all the mechanics in a somewhat coherent way.

Introduction This is just a setup hinting about what is to happen (which to be honest is just the nerd-to-jock trope).

Jägermeister One of the rare female-to-male transformations. Bitchy revenge is always a good plot for those.

Jockboy Based on a short caption on the theme of disappointed father wanting a more masculine son. I wanted to expand the story out a bit.

The Lost Year of Gain I’ve written about hypnotic mental split before, but this time with a bit more of a positive spin.

The Mixologist Another story based on someone else’s idea. Lots of them this year apparently. This one is about a bartender that spikes some of his guests where he feels a change is needed.

Mr. Wolf A collaboration around an idea I had about the transformative qualities of werewolf cum. This allowed me to combine muscle growth and knotting.

Putting Reek in Greek pt 2. I had though a lot of the guy in the Putting Reek in Greek story and decided to collection my thoughts into some sort of conclusion, or at least continuation.

Reassignment Another story on the theme of office worker demoted to the factory floor. This one with magic affecting more than the main character for a change.

Singed House The second of the Halloween trio. It was supposed to be more Halloween themed, but it didn’t really fit so instead I ended up with this bad boy spirit transformation. 

Solitary The third of the Halloween trio. This was more of an evil ghost story. Evil ghosts.

Spit Takes A few captions of the same photo.

Woodward Rugby This was my contribution to a secret santa for authors. My anonymous tags were “cum inflation” and “male pregnancy”, both previously unexplored by me.

[readyforthegarden]

Summer in the City - Epilogue

Epilogue

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! mentions of pregnancy

A/N: Once again, I just want to say thank you to everyone who read and supported this little AU. It made my heart so happy to see all the comments and tags, and I'm glad we got to take this little journey together. 41k+ words later, we're finally at the end.

Taglist:  @streamsofstardust​ @myownparadise96​ @sing-against-the-sky​ @mannick​ @screechesincoherently​ @garagebandvanfleet​ @theweightofstardust @hearts-hunger @allieboop @gvfrry @c4nc3rsimpp @a-bouquet-of-lilies @celestialfauna @doodle417 @heatmyfleet @trplshotofdopamine @age-of-nyahh @vader-kai @s-u-t  @parizonefourfour @acb0116 @saoirsemaeve @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @graygvf @oliverreedswhore @jakesgrapejuice

You stared sleepily at the ceiling above you, counting quietly in your head, trying to fall back asleep to no avail. The smell of warm bread was filtering from the crack in the door, and you couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer. You rose from your empty bed, save for your orange tabby, Marmalade who was sleeping soundly on the other side of you. The sound of shuffling from downstairs letting you know the other inhabitants of the home were awake for the day. As you made your way down the stairs, voices met your ear.

“Please eat your breakfast.” You heard Sam plead softly. “I promise, it tastes just like when mommy makes it.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Buddy, come on. Your dad worked really hard on it.” Danny was trying his turn now. “It would mean a lot to him if you at least tried it.”

“No.” As you entered the kitchen, you saw Sam and Danny sitting next to your child, coaxing him to eat a bite of scrambled eggs at the dining table. Danny was cradling his own baby, only five months old, to his chest as he spoke quietly. You stood back and watched the two men bargain and bribe the young boy to no avail. The collie Sam had rescued from a shelter, Penny, laid beneath the high-chair, waiting for morsels to scarf up as they fell to the ground. 

“Something smells good.” you finally announced your presence, Sam sighing in relief. “Ooh, honey you made us breakfast?”

“Yes I did.” Sam smiled, gesturing to the food in the table. “I wanted to give you the morning off, love.”

“That was very sweet.” You bent down, giving him a kiss. Sam grinned into it, his hand coming to rest on your swollen, pregnant belly. His newly grown mustache and beard tickled your face and and only made you want to kiss him more. When you pulled away, he pressed a kiss to your stomach through your nightgown. “Thomas, your eggs are getting cold. Eat.”

“I don’t like daddy’s eggs. I like mommy’s.”

“Mommy taught daddy how to make those eggs.” You explained, easing yourself into the chair next to Sam. “So they are mommy’s eggs. You can eat them now, or you can eat them for lunch. Your choice.” Thomas looked between you and Sam, then finally picked up his small spoon, shoveling the eggs into his mouth. “Atta boy.”

“Thank you, love.” Sam reached over, squeezing your hand gently on top of the table. You nodded, yawning as Danny poured you a glass of orange juice. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t wait for this kid to be out of me.” You sighed. “They won’t stop moving, I feel like I’m a jungle gym all hours of the day and night.”

“Just a few more weeks.” Sam assured you. You nodded, snagging a piece of bacon from the platter on the table and nibbling on it.

“Is Molly still asleep?” Danny nodded, patting Lily’s back gently as she wriggled in his arms at the mention of her mothers name. Lily had been fussy as of late, and Molly was up with her most of the night, not letting Danny take over until about four in the morning. He looked just as tired as you felt, his curly hair tossed up into a bun on top of his head to keep it out of Lily’s face and grasp. “Good, we’ll keep the coffee warm for her, I’m sure she’ll want some when she gets up.”

Most days were like this. You and Molly had started your own alteration business at the home after working at Doris’s shop for a few years, and you both kept busy while Sam and Danny tended to the garden before heading back into the city for work at the record and music supply store. Sometimes on the weekends, they’d play guitar at a local bar, earning some spare tip money. Now with little Thomas running around, and Lily, the two of you took more breaks, but still hustled to get the jobs that were asked of you done.

One evening, as the sun was shining a bright orange glow across the grass, you sat on a picnic blanket, watching Sam run around the front yard with Thomas. Penny was lying faithfully by your side, just as she had with your first pregnancy, and watched Thomas closely as he ran barefoot in the grass, just like his father.  Molly and Danny were sat on the porch swing with Lily, the little girl cooing as they swayed gently back and forth with her in her mothers arms. As you scanned your eyes along your home, feeling more contented than you’d ever had, you froze. You felt as if your heart stopped beating, watching the familiar figure walk up the driveway.

“Sam.” he turned to look at you, your tone stopping him as he bent to scoop up his son. You nodded towards the driveway and he turned, straightening up and guiding Thomas towards you.

“Go to your mother, Thomas.” he said as he moved forward. Thomas toddled over and stood in front of you, and you busied yourself brushing some dirt off his shirt. You chanced a glance behind you, and Danny was now stood up, hands gripping the railing as he watched Sam approach his brother.

You turned your attention back to Sam, and watched after a few moments as he embraced his brother tightly. You stood up, gathering Thomas up and holding him on your hip, before moving down the driveway to join them, Penny trotting along slightly in front of you. As you approached, you heard Sam talking about how he and Danny got their jobs, his hands moving quickly as he spoke. His brothers eyes moved towards you as you got closer, and he grinned.

“Petal.” he whispered. The look in his eyes was happy to see you, nostalgic even, but you could tell there was a hint of sorrow, of apology in them.

“Jake.” you gave him a smile, hoping that you could convey your forgiveness to him in just that simple gesture. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, yourself.” he nodded back at you. His voice lacked any mischief and you knew he meant it sincerely. You watched his eyes travel down to your pregnant stomach, a hint of sadness in his eyes before they flicked up to the child on your arms. “Who’s this little guy?”

“This is Thomas, my son. Our son.” Sam grinned with pride, putting his arm around your shoulders. Jake’s eyes widened a bit, his eyes scanning all of your and Sam’s features before going back to Thomas. You gently shook your head. You’d been scared during your pregnancy, that your child was going to somehow look like Josh. You’d had nightmares about it, in fact. That the drugged up guru had somehow gotten his wish. The relief you had when Thomas grew to look exactly like his father was immeasurable.

“Thomas, this is your uncle, Jake.” you looked to your son. “The one you’re named after.” Thomas regarded the stranger in front of him carefully.

“Hi Thomas.” Jake smiled, reaching up a hand. The toddler reached out, wrapping his little hand around the tips of Jake’s outstretched fingers.

“Hi.” Thomas replied. The small group fell silent, and Sam broke the quiet quickly.

“Where are you staying?” Jake reached up a hand, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was at a motel out in town.” he sighed. “I was actually looking for you guys. I wanted to apologize for everything, see you guys again.”

“Jake, the past is the past.” you said softly. “We have plenty of room, why don’t you stay with us?” you looked towards Sam, who smiled down at you encouragingly.

“I couldn’t,” Jake shook his head.

“You can and you will.” Sam grinned. “Come on, let’s go up to the house. Danny is here, and Molly too. Wait until you see their baby girl, she’s adorable.” the three of you turned and walked up towards the house. Danny’s watchful eyes studied the smiles on your faces, and in a few quick steps he was bounding down the porch steps and wrapping his arms around Jake. Molly was standing from the swing now, Lily cradled against her chest protectively.

After they parted, Molly stepped down the steps, joining Danny, giving Jake a small greeting of her own. After a little bit of chit chat, you handed Thomas to his father, stretching your sore back a bit.

“It’s just about supper time.” you announced, a gentle breeze blowing your hair back behind you. “Do you like meatloaf, Jake?” he smiled at you.

“Love it.”