#i believe you can see my love of commas just from this post

[chroniclesofatimeandplace]

Day One of Being an Author

Well, technically, that title is a lie. In some way, shape or form, we are all authors. However, I will use it to get my point across.

It is September 5th, 2023. I have begun crafting an idea to (finally) participate in NaNoWriMo this year, however, it has been quite a long time since I have written anything for the purpose of others to read for entertainment. I dug out an old "Things to Write About" book that a family member had earnestly gifted to me a few years prior, carefully flipping through the pages to find a prompt that spoke to me. Small bits of dust flew around me, reminding me of just how long it has been.

Once I had found the prompt for today, I grabbed my water bottle in preparation. Fall may have already descended in the Pacific Northwest, but it was still mildly warm. The importance of hydration has not yet been forgotten by me.

I carefully made my way to my laptop, beginning a new Microsoft Word document. As I typed out the prompt my book had provided for me, I felt the familiar wall that has kept my previous attempts at beginning to write again a fruitless endeavor. As a remedy, I created this very Tumblr blog that you are reading this on now. I've always been better at distracting myself than doing the simple work that I want to do.

I do hope that I don't come off pretentious. I am simply in need of beginning to write again. Holding the pen, so to speak. Although everything is digital now.

My goal is to try and update near daily. I am, however, a student. While writing is important to me, my studies will take priority. Nonetheless, I am anticipating participating in NaNoWriMo this upcoming November. I hope to see you there. :)

L.M Lewis

[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE PART THREE

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: Imaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage Imao.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

Lucifer paced back and forth in his room, worried. Walking around the large master's bedroom, passing by many piles of rubber ducks he made.

“She should be back by now.” Lucifer murmured to himself, sighing.

His eyes landed on to the framed pictures decorating his walls.

He prayed that Charlie met [y/n] up there, the one angel he trusts. Though, it has been eons since he's last seen her, he wonders if [y/n] changed after all these years, especially after he had fallen from grace.

Did she hate him? Did she miss him like how he misses her?

As he sat on his arm chair, a gold sealed white envelope manifested on top of the coffee table in front of him, pink glittery smoke surrounding the letter.

“...What the...?” Lucifer murmurs, hesitant and cautious, eyeing the envelope. What if it's a trap?

Suddenly his phone buzzed, he immediately checked it to see it was a text message from Charlie.

“I just left a letter on your table, it's from someone you know. I'll tell you everything that happened in heaven but I'll rest for a bit. Love you dad!”

Lucifer smiled though a tad bit worried, he can tell that the meeting didn't go as his daughter hoped. He can only give her time.

Lucifer then now turned his eyes back on the neat envelope, sparkling a little. He turned the letter around to see it was specifically addressed to him, written in an oh so familiar handwriting to him. Unknowingly, just by seeing the handwriting was enough for his eyes to tear up a little.

“[y/n]....” He murmurs, finally opening the letter. Using his sharp nails to scrape off the wax without breaking it or tearing the envelope. Taking out the carefully folded light yellow paper, unfolding it to reveal her letter to him.

My Dearest Lucifer

His cheeks flushed slightly, with a comma after dearest. My Dearest, Lucifer

“Oh [y/n], this will keep me up at night.” Lucifer murmurs with a small dorky smile on his face, his sharp teeth shining against the light, eyes watering.

My Dearest, Lucifer

       It has been awhile hasn't it? A couple of eons since we've last seen each other. You have no idea how excited I was when I heard your daughter would be coming here in hell. I made sure to write a letter in advance a day before her arrival. I have a lot to tell you, first and foremost, I truly missed you. You sly man, you really got married without inviting me. How's your time down there? I hope hell is treating you right, I really hope I'll get a chance to see you again. I hope we'll get a proper chance to talk, I want to personally hear you how you've been doing. I hope you'll get the chance to see the good of humans after giving them free will, I promise to find a way for you to leave and visit earth. I am running out of paper to right on but I promise to help your daughter up here and lastly, I want you to remember that I adore you always.

“Sincerely yours, [y/n] [l/n]” Lucifer softly reads out, voice shaking. It felt like he could hear her as he read the letter. The same kind [y/n] who always believed in him. His heart swells knowing that she's still trying to help in any way she can despite their distance. She never stopped believing in him despite him leaving without notice (not that he had the chance to).

“If only you knew how much I adore you too, [y/n]...” Lucifer murmurs softly, his finger tracing the outline of the paper ever so gently.

“I want to see you again, I have so many things to say to you... So many unsaid words I wanted to say... I wanted to tell you that I love...” Lucifer's eyes widened ever so slightly, cheeks turning red. He knows he loves her and he still does but he also loves his ex-wife, Lilith. Does he? Or is he just holding into something that no longer exists as it was something he had for a long time and now it's gone?

Everything in his life changed, Lilith's love for him changed, he changed.

Despite all of this, [y/n] remained unchanging inside his heart. Sure, Lilith held the majority of his heart but now? He is not sure but he is 100% sure [y/n] never left, he still has affections for the angel.

How can he not? She's the only one who believed in him when he was up in heaven? She comforted him whenever the elders said hurtful things to his ideas.

But now...

Her letter gave him a sense of hope that his decision of giving mankind free will might not be useless after all.

Lucifer closes the letter, gently folding it back on how it was folded before he opened it. Bringing the piece of paper to his nose, smelling the faint scent of her perfume. It brought back memories of his time with her in heaven.

“I'll ask Charlie about what happened up there later but for now, I'll take a moment to process this.” He says with a small sigh. Slipping the folded paper back into the envelope.

Lucifer sighs as he gently places the envelope back on his table, walking to his balcony. Eyes staring up into the smoky red skies of hell, devoid of any moon and stars.

He used to stargaze with her when he was still in heaven.

[y/n] was his moon, who shines during his darkest days.

Waving his finger in the air, specks of golden dust flickers out of his fingers. Forming a crescent moon.

Lucifer leans into the railings, eyes staring at the faux moon he created.

“Moon, tell me if I could...” Lucifer softly sang, eyes tired but hopeful. “Send up my heart to you...?” he asked softly, unfortunately no one answered.

A bit of a timeskip....

It has been a few months since Charlie's visit here in heaven and the next extermination is getting closer by the day. Emily and I are still trying to look for ways to help Charlie.

Sera adores Emily, I am sure that she wouldn't get punished. I on the other hand, Sera has been keeping a close eye on me. Criticizing me. Lute being tasked to watch my every move.

“Sera, this is utterly ridiculous! We should give those poor souls a second chance.” [Y/n] says, clenching her fists as she looked at Sera who was sitting on her chair inside the Seraphim office.

“That is enough, [y/n]. You keep this up and you'll end up fallen like Lucifer.” Sera said sternly, eyes glaring at the [y/n]. “You barely managed to escape that fate before, you could've fallen the same time as Lucifer but thankfully your actions weren't as severe as his.”

[y/n] slammed her fists against the table, angel eyes appearing on her wings with fury, “We aren't God, Sera! Who gave you the right to judge those sinners and claim they don't deserve a second chance?” she exclaimed.

Sera stood up from her seat, anger evident on her face. “Don't you dare raise your voice at me! You're on thin ice, [y/n]!”

[y/n] rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over chest, “What are you going to do? Huh? Kick me out of heaven?”

Sera's glare sharpened, patience running thin. “Keep that attitude up and you just might.”

“Lucifer doesn't deserve this treatment! You cursed him to not see the good of people! You cursed the people who have a chance to redeem themselves by taking their life! How does it feel that so much blood is spilled because of your decision?!” [y/n] asked angrily, tears running down her cheeks.

“We have our own souls to protect! This decision wasn't easy to make!” Sera remarked angrily, her wings spread out intimidatingly.

“Protect them from what?! As far as I know, it's only us angels who are a threat to them? If they do something that doesn't fit your standards or the elder's standards they are bound to fall from grace!” [y/n] says mockingly, rage and annoyance evident on both women's eyes.

“That's it, you've crossed the line!”

“You don't want to admit that I am right, angels are such selfish, greedy, and filthy creatures. I cannot believe I am associated with beings whose hands are stained with blood.”

You know, falling doesn't seem so bad.

Strong and harsh winds are blowing against my back, thankfully I still have my wings. It is currently useless, unfortunately. I don't have the energy to flap them to save myself from the approaching pain.

After that argument with Sera, the higher seraphim thought I was already way out of line and disrespectful. I was placed on trial, handcuffed with the type of handcuffs that prevents me from using my angelic powers while it simultaneously sucked the energy out of me.

I was deemed guilty, shameful, and ungrateful and a threat to the order of heaven.

Tossed out of the pearly gates of heaven by none other than Adam, that asshole really grabbed me by the hair.

[y/n] sighs softly, vision blurring. Trying to focus it as she falls from grace. The skies looked so beautiful.

Lucifer would've loved these skies, we've stargazed during the night before. When he was still in heaven with me.

Lucifer, I can see Ursa Major tonight. Someday, I'll bring you back here on the surface and stargaze like we've always do. No matter how many stars are in the sky, you always take my attention. You're like my star, you shine so bright and so pure.

I'll join you in the pits of hell, I hope you didn't forget about me.

I should be happy that I'm finally leaving that god awful place.

Why am I so scared of falling to my demise?

For a moment, I can see a glimpse of how Lucifer felt when he fell from grace.

Terrifying.

[Y/n] closes her eyes as she finally goes past the Earth's crust. Ichor flowing out of her hands from the handcuffs she had to wear.

“I am not allowed to die, I still need to see him.” [y/n] murmurs before eventually crashing into the fiery grounds of hell, she fortunately crashed somewhere where there weren't any people, a wide space of nothing but dead trees, a hotel can be seen in the distance.

Pain, pain shot everywhere her body. She let out a sharp scream of pure pain. Blood spilled everywhere before she eventually passed out.

It didn't matter, the pain didn't matter. She's here now. She'll look for him or Charlie.

She doesn't know Charlie would find her first.

END NOTES: YUHHH THEY'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN IN THE NEXT UPDATEE

TAGLIST:

@n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @luleck @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya (I can't tag you </3) @many-fandoms-lover

[rubber-glovs]

Dearest, Ptks (haha see what I did there with that comma)

I FUCKING LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH WTF!! I think you're all so sweet and considerate of each other and it makes so happy. Every time I see a new post, comment or reply from you guys it just makes me smile like an idiot. I like talking to you guys and making references that no one could understand (eg: fanfic 69, cherry candy, jadebury). I've watched musicals, listened to music and done all sorts for you guys because you all mean so much to me. After 3 days of no contact because my phone broke, honestly got me in tears because I was so scared to lose you guys over a stupid mistake I made.

Now, onto the SERIOUS SHIT. Every single one of you guys changed my life for the better. I have people who are into the same things as me, and I can happily talk about them. I don't know what would've happened if I never caved and finally watched Hamilton, but I know that I wouldn't be as happy as I am right now. If I never went to Pinterest to find pictures of the Hamilton cast, then I would've never stumbled upon Jade's pinterest, which caused me to gain the confidence to post things myself. Thinking back to the days when I met everyone and felt pure joy every time someone posted or replied to my comment makes me genuinely so happy that I still act like that. It's only been a few couple of months, but it's been the best couple of months for me.

Meeting the ptks helped me build my confidence. If I never met you guys, I would've never done the things I've done today. I would've never joined the sfth discord, join the school musical production, willingly want to perform in front of a whole class, be more like myself to friends and family, be able to purchase things on my own in public, express my thoughts and beliefs and just be more like myself while also being open to learn more about myself. If I never had this confidence, I'd be the same shy kid in class who could never raise a hand in class. I'm eternally grateful and feel like I'm in dept for all you've done to me.

I feel like I view you guys as friend crushes, like someone you want to be friends with, but the thing is, is that we already friends. It feels surreal sometimes when I realise I've got these really cool friends who listen to me and actually like me, and what's even better is that I didn't have to fake my personality to get them to like me, I am being myself all the time and no one judges me! It makes me so happy ^_^

Special mentions!

@jadelemonadee , the day I met you, I remember being so excited. Meeting you made me realise that there were people out there who had similar interests to me. Without you, I'd never even post on any platform or express my passions like how you do for Thayne. Every time you feel down, I don't hesitate to console you because I don't believe you should feel like that. In my eyes, I perceive you as this really cool best friend and a role model.

@pretzlgldpoisson Jesus christ Vee. There is so much I could say, but not words come to mind. You're my lesbian best friend to my trans self. I love every conversation we have, and I trust you so much. I felt safe to reveal my voice, face, and even MY TOWN?? It's crazy how much I love you, and we've never met in real life. It honestly sucks that you live in America and I live in England, I would give everything I have to meet you in real life. I like staying up to text or call for you (even though we've only called twice).

I think people would call me stupid or silly for caring and trusting these random strangers I've met online, but honestly, I trust them so much to not even think twice if they're a 50 year old man trying to kidnap me (please tell me none of you are). I genuinely care so much, but unfortunately, I can't articulate it all.

I love you all so much <3 I'm off to bed since it's 1 am and my sleep schedule is surprisingly improving!!

-Kaden ^_^

[thisapplepielife]

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by both @wynnyfryd and @wormdebut, thank you both! (I only used AO3 fics. That's easier for me to sort through than Tumblr.)

01) Steve is comfortable on his back, laying against the trunk of his car, looking up at the night sky, when he sees a shooting star rush across the vastness of space. - {All Across the Universe}

02) Steve slumps behind his computer monitor at his desk, trying to make himself as small as possible. - {Secret Santa}

03) Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes, attempting to block out the way too bright sun and wipe the sweat away from his forehead at the same time. - {Permanent 99}

04) "No, no, no," Steve says, waving his hand in front of him. - {Steddie Holiday Drabbles}

05) Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. - {King Steve}

06) Steve sits alone at a small table near the fountain in the center of the mall a few miles from his house. - {If You Only Believe}

07) "This is ridiculous!" Eddie screams as loud as he can, from the bottom of the ladder. - {Let the Boy Be Merry}

08) Eddie steps out of the car, right between the Methodist church and the Hawkins High School building. - {Yours For the Weekend}

09) Gareth runs up and shoves Goodie into Jeff, and keeps running. - {Wake Up Time}

10) Diana hates doing the dishes. - {Crawling Back to You}

First, I like long sentences. I almost said run-on, but I usually love a good comma. Or three. I know this about myself. Long sentences, but short paragraphs. ("I want a fic with a short paragraph, and a loooonnnng, long sentence." - CAKE, probably.)

And, lol, I knew I liked to set up my POV right away, so the reader knows whose head they're in, because I appreciate that as a reader, but damn. A name as the first word 8/10 times is hilarious, even to me. I'll try not to be self-conscious about it from now on.

I think it's pretty appropriate that 4 of them start with Steve (Steve is my fav, and my draw into this show), 2 are Eddie, and one each for Gareth & Di. That seems to be a pretty accurate representation of my Stranger Things fic writing splits, haha.

(And for fun, yes, Take the Money and Run and Tuesday's Gone With the Wind both start with names, too: Steve and Eddie, respectively. And I just looked at my two other "medium-ish" unposted fics I'm working on, and yep: Steve and Eddie starters. Again. 🤷)

I also checked, and while I still like to use a name, I see that I'm far more open to starting a drabble with something other than a name than I am a longer piece.

Don't bore us, get to the chorus when I'm strictly limited on words, I guess. 🤣

Tagging anyone else that hasn't done it and wants to do it! ❤️

[rootsofdread]

my brother told me about this teaser and i thought i'd do everyone a service and post it here, since it was difficult for me to get my hands on lol. this gave me GOOSEBUMPS to read!! i absolutely love the way it's written AND this kind of monster, i'm already in love. i really really hope it becomes a killer 🥺❤️

i also took the time to transcribe it under the cut. i did it fast so excuse any potential typos, i may have also added some commas, but i'd say it's 99.9% accurate lol:

I was on garbage duty. One of the boys usually offered to take care of it, but I was closing the diner alone with my friend Ashley. The cook had left an hour ago, and this was one of the last tasks we needed to take care of before we could head home.

"I'm going to grab a smoke and ask Tyler to pick me up," Ashely said, "I'll be back in a second to finish mopping."

"It's fine, I'll do it when I'm done with the garbage. It will only take a minute."

She smiled and walked out through the back door. I wasn't trying to be nice, I just wanted to leave as soon as possible. The diner was at the edge of the town and surrounded by forest. I dreaded staying around after dark. I always felt eyes watching me whenever I walked to my car.

I slung the bags over my shoulders and headed toward the back door. The dumpster was behind the diner, next to a picnic table where some of the staff sometimes took their break.

I was surprised to see Ashley wasn't there, but she sometimes paced around the diner when she was on a call. I tossed the sticky garbage bags and wiped my hands with disgust. I hated garbage duty.

I was about to head back inside when I noticed something glowing at my feet: Ashley's phone. I looked around nervously. Ashley wasn't known for pranks. I picked it up and took my own phone from my back pocket. I wasn't sure what to do -- or who to call.

I didn't have to. A voice called out from the darkness. Ashley's voice.

"Ashley, this isn't funny." I said.

I stepped into the forest. I didn't know how she had managed to navigate the trail in the dark. I had to turn on the flashlight to be able to see two feet in front of me. I let her voice guide me, but I still couldn't make out what she was saying. She sounded distant. Distorted.

"I want to go home," I insisted, "please, can we get back to the diner now?"

She either didn't hear me or pretended not to. I could tell I was close when I caught a glimpse of blonde hair in the distance.

"Hello Tyler," she said, her voice hoarse and strained.

"Is Tyler with you?" I asked, pointing the light ahead.

I could see two figures. One of them, shorter, leaned against the trunk of a tree while the other, taller, stood a little to the side. The first one must have been Ashley, but the second one looked wrong. Twisted. The torso and the legs seemed to be facing different directions, as if they could have walked toward me without ever taking their eyes off Ashley.

"I have your phone," I added.

"Hello Tyler." she said, again, but I could now see her lips never moved. Something didn't feel right.

"It's me," she started. "Can you pick -- me up," she tried, hesitant. "Me up? -- pick me -- up -- Tyler -- it's me? -- hello."

I caught a glimpse of something in the light. It looked like teeth. Too many to count. A phone rang. Not mine, but Ashley's. Tyler was calling. The tall figure shifted, and then it spoke. Its disembodied voice sounded almost exactly like my own.

"Home..." it said. "P-please."

I ran without looking back, branched tearing at my skin, sliving my arms and cheeks. I reached the diner and threw myself inside, locking the back door behind me. I waited for a thump, a crash against the door, but it never came. I stood there for a while, still clutching Ashley's phone, and before gathering enough courage to sprint to my car.

It's 3 in the morning and I don't know what to do. Tyler keeps calling Ashley's phone but I don't know what I would tell him. I want to believe this is a cruel prank, but I can still hear it now, floating softly through my window. A voice, haunting and familiar, so close to my own.

"Please," it begs, "I want to go home."

[dieing-lilac]

Hi again IEYTD community. You guys are like. So welcoming? I wanted to post again, but I’m actually working on some stuff like a part comic part uh fic thingy thang. It’ll be here eventually. In other news, here’s John. Below cut is me being a theatre kid in real life, pointing out things I haven’t noticed people talking about?

Also, before read more, I wanna say, if anybody wants to like send a message or anything and talk to me abt IEYTD I’d love to chat :3. I’m a bit cautious so I may seem skidding, but I’d love to make some more friends :D

Ok so. Folds my hands.

First off, I wanna point out in the intro, the line “If the worlds a stage, let’s set it on fire.” is a reference to a monologue in a Shakespearean play (sounds about right), search “All the worlds a stage” if you want to check it out. The line referenced is the very start of the monologue, originally going (putting whole sentence, comma indicates a linebreak) “All the worlds a stage, and all the men and woman merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts; His acts being seven ages.” I can’t find much relation to Juniper’s story with this monologue, but I put it out in the world so maybe somebody can. It may just be there as a well known monologue reference? Unsure!

Next off, the fun part. The first mission, Operation: Stage Freight. The play being shown is The Masque of the Red Death, a real play based off an Edgar Allen Poe book. The shorthand, is it’s about a prince who hosts a lavish party in his castle, while the red death is ravaging the outside world, believing himself untouchable. Eventually, some stranger comes in, I’ve seen this stranger interpreted as Death itself, though also a victim of the red death is a possible interpretation (and may be more fitting here?). The prince goes to confront this person, and ultimately dies. I wanna note that the prince does call for the strangers execution for the “insolence”, and when nobody steps up, tries to grab the person himself.

This wasn’t any sort of coincidence, the choice of play. Both from Juniper’s choice, for where they were planning on killing the whole (? Been a second since I watched the mission at full attention) audience, with the literal mask representing the Red Death. But also? I think our John Juniper, who’s playing the prince? I think that’s some good symbolism. I don’t have the energy to continue this right at this, but like. If you read the book/watch the play, you’ll see it. That was intentional casting and play choice from devs and Johnny boy alike, and I think this has a lot of potential we as a fandom haven’t seemed to tap.

That’s all, thank you for reading :3

[mononcmarc]

INFP male. WTF? FML.

Being an INFP male is litteraly Hell on Earth. And don't worry, I'm not going to go on an incel rent. I've always found incels to be immature misogynistic humans who believe they don't have any inner growth to do. No. I know I can't blame others for how I am. I found out through introspection, or in my case I would call it daydreaming my life away, that I am omnisexual. Basically, this means that I can feel attraction towards men, women, gender fluid, trans, non-binary, wathever. I am also attracted towards some traits, like creativity, compassion and empathy. Basically, it means that I am falling in love and/or am aroused by around a fifth of all the people I meet. You know the cliché of how we INFPs tend to fantasize about people we meet and daydream about our hypothetical loving relationships? Well, guess what, it's true and the fact that I'm a man doesn't change that at all. Now on top of all that, in the same introspection process, I found out that I am polyamourous and totally capable of having at the same time many hypothetical daydreamed loving relationships. Imagine having to go through that for 1 person out of 5 you meet IRL, online, celebrities, friend of a friend of a friend that you see on social media, random person who decides to make a video about INFPs on YouTube, came out of nowhere human being on Instagram (clearly not a bot, right...?) who dm me because they liked something I posted 3 years ago, EVERYONE ! And how we INFPs process everything, every information we get : introverted feeling. This means that most of my time (normally 2/3rd of my waking hours) is spent analyzing every sentence, every word, every comma, every gesture, every non-verbal communication that I make or percieve from others in order to make sure that I haven't miss any red flags or that I've not commited a faux-pas of some sort, and of course, I will at some point say too much (TMI is one of our many middle names after all). On top of that (because it ain't over - lol - you sweet summer child you) don't forget that I have to repeat the whole process for every sentence, every word, every gesture of all hypothetical daydream love scenario that my brain pops out (oh yeah, sometimes even with fictional characters also) with facts, logic and my own personal values in order to separate what is plausible, what is maybe usable for any creative project and what is just plain bull****. Most days, I just want to stay in bed and speak to no one, see no one, text no one, read no books, watch no movies or shows and simply exist in my own inner world in my mind but I can't. I'm an INFP and deep human connections is what I desire the most. And I know I'm kinda charming and funny without even trying and I've been told that I have soft big puppy brown eyes and a deep relaxing manly voice, so making new friends ain't hard. What is super hard is having to "man up" because that's what people expect you to do while having the inner emotional turmoil of a Disney princess who's out of fairy dust. Litteral Hell, I say. I've cried the whole time I was writing this. I'm tired. Don't worry, I'll be OK. I'll make myself a tomato sandwich I guess and watch videos of cute cats or something. Sorry. Thanks for taking the time to read this. Hope it will make you understand us male INFPs more. Or maybe it won't. Does it matter? I guess not. What matters is you who's still reading this. You are awesome and I love you. F***. Now I'll daydream about a person who is virtually inexistant but could be plausible and then go through the whole Fi judgemental process again. See? Hell.

[hellotemporaryuniverse]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

(Open) tagged by @kcrabb88 lol but I wanted to do it :)

How many works do you have on ao3? 51! (+7 on my secret alt)

What's your ao3 word count? 258,302 + 67,544 -

What fandoms do you write for? currently, it's just star wars, but I've written for criminal minds before and have some unposted marvel wips -

What are your top five fics by kudos? 1. Oathbreaking -Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and breaks their bond during the Phantom Menace Council scene and this has repercussions 2. Underestimation -The BAU team takes a case that reminds Reid uncomfortably of his childhood. Rossi finds him when he can't take it anymore 3. See My Dreams All Die -Obi-Wan kills Anakin on Mustafar and is severely wounded doing so. Palpatine is in need of a new apprentice, and Obi-Wan is so conveniently right there 4. 'Til the Sun Goes Down -Take Revenge of the Sith, but it's Obi-Wan instead of Mace who confronts Palpatine 5. Acquainted with the Night -(Unfinished) Reid is kidnapped on a case and the team races to find him (oh god, I can't believe my fifteen year old self's fics make this list) -

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I want to. desperately. it just takes a lot of time and social energy I don't have so I get behind and then I get overwhelmed. I've got 84 unanswered in my inbox currently, some of them months old :( -

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? it's a toss up between Nothing Gold Can Stay (rip Cody) and The Toll of the Bell (rip the Jedi) -

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? The one I just wrote for @ashinaburrito - Happily Ever After (quinobi ftw) -

Do you get hate on fics? I've gotten one or two comments that... disagree very strongly with certain decisions I've made in my fics but no outright flaming. I just delete them -

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes. and the kind you'll only know about if you reach level 20 friendship -

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? not really anymore? I did in my criminal minds phase. I had one years ago that never really got off the ground that was criminal minds/doctor who/x-men which doesn't sound that crazy, but I would think it was a fever dream if I didn't have the document -

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that I'm aware -

Have you ever had a fic translated? no :') -

Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I have a wip buried in the backrooms that I was writing with @charrhylis. poke, poke, I mean, if you still want to... -

What's your all time favorite ship? all time??? codywan... but winterhawk is a close second -

What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will? all of them lmao. I never know when a fic's going to make it to the finish line or not, but if I had to choose one... my The Will of the Force series. it is. such an ambitious project and I have so many other wips going on so I don't think it will ever happen but I stare at it wistfully sometimes -

What are your writing strengths? I have been told I write good dialogue which is funny because dialogue is hell and if I never had to write it again I would be the happiest person ever. unfortunately, it is difficult to write a story without it (believe me, I've tried. I actually succeeded once) -

What are your writing weaknesses? commas............. jk I'm mostly okay at them. my biggest weakness is my need to make everything perfect on the first go around instead of just getting shit on the page and so I agonize over word choice for hours and wind up with stilted sentences. takes ages to get anything done. -

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? if it counts as another language, I've written dialogue in dai bendu (Jedi conlang) before. I love it, languages are awesome. and with ao3 you can do hovertext so your readers don't get lost, which is cool. -

First fandom you wrote for? star wars! a wip graveyard fic. but then I moved on to criminal minds, and the first posted was from there -

Favorite fic you've ever written? oh geez uhhhhhh. this is hard because I like my fics for different reasons but... right now, I think it's Soldier, Poet, King just because it's such a good character study and I think it's beautiful. Hits all the right notes trope-wise too.

[alexsgrimoire]

MAKE A BACK-UP: A SOLLUX SPELL (Taken from @popculturepagan (now deactivated))

Sollux Captor is known for many things, but “coming back to life” and “computer programming” are two of the most prominent. This spell combines these two traits to help you. This spell aims to create a back-up, a safety net, a free man, a get-out-of-jail-free-card, so if something in your future goes wrong, you can bounce back unscathed. This spell is a preventive spell to be used before the fact, to help protect your future in luck, love, fortune, or otherwise.

I’m trying to experiment with spells that use more traditional witchy ingredients, while being a little simpler in the process itself. I hope this works well.

What you will need:

A Glass Jar with a Lid

A Horseshoe Magnet, preferably blue/red (Like this)

One or More Symbol(s) of what you’d like to protect

Aluminum Foil

Paper and Pens

Sticky Label/Post-it Note

Optional: A Lil’ Bit of Honey

First, you need to decide what specifically you are creating a back-up of. Is it your emotions, to save yourself from nervous breakdown? Is it your bank account, to save yourself from bankruptcy? Think of anything that you can loose, but gain again.  It will come back to you in a different form, but it will return. Once you have decided on what things you are creating a back-up for, whether it be one or many, you need two things form it. First, is a physical representation of that concept. Second, is a word or two that describes it.

Here are some examples of things you’d create a back-up for, and items and words that represent them.

Money/Financial Security: A Coin, “Money”

Emotional Strength and Reserve: A Photo of You, “Emotion.”

Employment: An Office Pen, “Job”

Loving Relationships: Jewerly, “Love”

Stable Housing: A rock from outside, “House.”

As you can see, the object and word do not have to be “mystical” or even rare, just something that has a strong connection.

Once you have this figured out, write the following ~ATH (“til death”) code onto your paper, replacing “X” with your words. (If you have more than one thing you are backing up, separate with a comma.) Make sure to keep each line and space consistent, they are important.

"copy THIS ["X"]

rename THIS [“X”2]

~ATH THIS { “X”

} execute (“X”2);

THIS (“X”).die;”

Examples:

"copy THIS [job]

rename THIS [job2]

ect…”

"copy THIS [money, emotion]

rename THIS [money2, emotion2]

ect….]

~ATH is a obscure programming language that Sollux has perfected that runs programs at the termination of something’s life. If you’d like to be particularly fancy, you can write the code down using red and blue ink. If you are inclined, you can add personal sigils to the back.

What this code is programmed to do is make a copy of something, and on the termination of the original, release the copy.

Put this piece of paper at the bottom of your glass jar.

Now, take the object (or objects) used to represent what you are copying. Hold them tightly to yourself, and think.

This is no longer just a photo, or a rock, this is my emotions or this my house. Look upon this object as the physical name of a concept far greater, the anchor this concept has in the physical world. Hold it tightly until you believe, and know, of it’s greater purpose.

Take the aluminum foil and wrap the object up, as tight as you can. Wrap it in two layers— two. The foil is a protection agent that will keep the concept safe from whatever comes your way. If you have multiple objects, wrap them up individually. Place them in the mason jar, on top of the coded paper.

Now, add in the horseshoe magnet. This magnet is split and polarized, like Sollux himself, and will function as a good luck charm of a horseshoe and a draw to Sollux. (This is why the blue/red coloring is preferred. If you don’t have a blue/red magnet, you can paint or mark yours, or simply do without.) Try to place it facing upwards, if at all possible. If you are a Homestuck pagan, you can also offer Sollux a prayer (such as the one here, or another of your choice.) This final element should bring attention to help execute your programming (because ~ATH is a particularly finicky programming language, and it seems only Sollux has mastered it…) and just a pinch of good luck that any project needs.

Finally, seal the jar with the lid tightly. Label the jar “back_up.~ath” with your label or post-it note and place the jar on a shelf where it will be safe to protect your back-up until it is needed. When it comes time for it to be needed, don’t remove the objects from the jar! Keep them in the jar so they can function from with in. When it is used, it might be a good idea to thank Sollux for aiding you in the execution of this spell.

As an optional step, if you are in a place where you can do so, add a lil smudge of honey to the lid of the jar. This is a symbolic offering to the purple programming bees that run computers on Alternia. Do not eat the honey. Under no circumstances, should you eat the honey.

I hope this spell can help you recover from a lot of things and keep on your merry way, as well as give you peace of mind. We all need a little back-up.

[woozapooza]

Some quick (EDIT: This post is not quick at all. I don't know why I never learn that when I say a reaction post is going to be "quick," it is literally never quick) reactions to The Sopranos 3x08 "He Is Risen":

I don't find Ralphie particularly interesting, unfortunately. But at least he creates new situations for Tony, who is interesting. In this regard he's kinda like Father Intintoli (am I spelling that right? I don't care), who is super boring but has the one redeeming quality of occasionally creating new situations for Carmela. Though unlike the priest, at least Ralphie's actor has stage presence (screen presence?), so that's something else he has going for him.

I was really worried that the events of "Employee of the Month" would not come up again, especially after I read that Dr. Melfi's role is smaller from here on out. It would have been ridiculous to put a main character through that and then never let it be apparently relevant to the rest of her arc. So I was deeply relieved when Tony offered to walk her to her car and she thought about it for a moment and then turned him down (fantastically subtle performance by Lorraine Bracco in that moment, btw—you can see her trauma come rushing back to her, you can see her temptation to accept Tony's offer, and when she gives her answer, she's just composed enough that Tony wouldn't notice that anything was wrong, but the audience can see and hear the anguish just beneath the surface). I would honestly have been satisfied if that was all I got, but then on top of that, there's the scene where she rants to Elliot about how exhausting it is to constantly have to be there for other people when she's dealing with her own trauma. God, that scene was great. Probably one of my favorite scenes in the whole show so far. I can't believe how long it took me to realize that Melfi is the best character. Also, I feel like it says a lot about her as a person that she apologizes to Elliot for going on that tirade. God I love her.

At Thanksgiving, when Tony tells Meadow that he loves her and that he'd be devastated if anything bad happened to her, her face sort of softens. It's nice that they seem to be on the path to reconciliation (well, nice in a twisted sort of way, since she had a very good reason to be angry with him), but it's also sort of hard to buy, because Meadow has no clue of the context of that statement (that when Tony looked at her, he saw Tracee), and I feel like if I were her in that moment, I would have been like "what do you mean, if something happened to me? Do you know something I don't know? 😟"

When Tony is explaining to someone (Johnny, I think?) why he had to attack Ralphie, he first says "He disrespected the Bing," and when that's not enough, he adds, "He bashed that poor girl's brains in." When Ralphie apologizes, he does it in the same order (after first apologizing for turning Tony down for a drink): first the insult to the Bing, then Tracee. Pretty telling! Though I do wonder if, in Tony's case, he brought up the Bing first because he thought it was more likely to resonate with Johnny or whoever he was talking to, since we know that Tracee's death truly shook him. Undoubtedly he's mad about the insult as well, but I was thinking about the end of "University": someone (Paulie, I think?) says Ralphie "was way out of line," Tony sadly says "that girl..." and Paulie or whoever it was says, "That, too." There, too, the insult comes first and Tracee is an afterthought, but she's not an afterthought to Tony. King of not being the #1 most despicable person in the New Jersey mob 👏👏👏

I am still very much figuring out how I feel about Jackie Jr. 🤨

Ducks!!! I don't know what to make of them, but they sure are ducks!!!

Long before I started watching the show, I saw (and reblogged, because I thought it was hilarious) a photoset of the line where Tony says he read the Cliff Notes for The Prince and thought it was "okay." But the photoset put a comma between "Prince" and "Machiavelli," so that it looked like Tony was saying "[The] Prince, [by] Machiavelli." But in the HBO captions, and in James Gandolfini's delivery, there is definitely no comma. He just thinks the guy's name is "Prince Machiavelli." Amazing.

[cherimoyatea]

Thank you, @mymirrorlight. I was hoping to see a response like this. You actually said everything I intended to say, but I'll add a few points if you don't mind.

Hi @chaos-in-deepspace, I'm Cheri! Nice to meet you! Let me give you a brief example of why your hunt for ai writers is bound to target the wrong people sooner or later. For this post, I'm using my own fic as example, and you're very welcome to run it through any detectors you like. I have nothing to hide.

But since you and your inner circle are using Quillbot, I'll also use it here. I'm just a micro blog and only started posting stories. Mind you, english ist not my first language so this is what I do:

I write in my native language first (which is German) to outline the plot and word structure, and then translate it manually into English.

Bit by bit.

Yes, I also use Grammarly, but we already know that it doesn't affect anything.

Let's take a look at the very first fic I posted on this blog, as it was not the quality I seek today. I had no idea that ai fic writers, detectors and such existed and felt sick to my stomach when I got this, back then:

I felt genuinely embarrassed and stressed!

''Oh, crap! 21 % Ai-generated!? Why?! How??''

As you can see, the bot flagged the official song lyrics I used to set the scene in my fic as AI-generated, along with parts of my own writing. But it doesn't flag the entire set of lyrics. Just the first paragraph, not the second.

And why is that, you wonder?

Because this, ladies and gentlemen, is how those bots operate. They have no real understanding of what they're detecting. Yes, they pull information from boards and databases, but they can't genuinely recognize human-written words or connect them meaningfully. They only search for distinct patterns and trigger alerts when they find similar, repetitive word structures.

So what does that mean in this case? That the fic was truly AI-generated just because it triggered the bot?

Well then, I have a little time on my hand. Let's try again by removing the lyrics from the fic:

We dropped the rate from 21% to 13%—for lyrics that were 100% human-written but still flagged as AI-generated. Also suddenly the same part of my writing that was flagged as Ai-generated previously, went back to normal. Interesting.

Okay great! And those remaining 13%? They dropped just by removing a few commas (because I love long, complex sentences).

Yeah, you get the idea. I didn't change a single word (except for the lyrics which was clearly not Ai), yet I dropped the rate from 21% to 9%. I'm sure I could easily remove the remaining 9% but I think my point is clear.

I'm aware that 9% are not what you're targeting but it's still infuriating to know that your writing style triggered the bot at some point and claimed it as something that it's not. And there is no way to prove your innocence.

So, if this could happen to me, what does that say about other fics that fall victim to your hunt?

See. I didn't write an entire series about mental health and healing trauma for you, @chaos-in-deepspace and your friends to stir up unnecessary drama and unease in the community. You're just adding stress for people and reflecting poorly on yourselves.

Why not simply block the people you assume are using AI for their fics instead of creating a list and calling them out publicly? While I can't speak for everyone, I, personally, don't want to see such a list on my dashboard. I don't need people to be shamed and called out.

I will refrain from blocking you guys though, because I believe in freedom of speech and simply scroll past posts I don't agree with.

However. You're not the LaDs Tumblr police, and I kindly ask you to reconsider your decision for the sake of the community's freedom.

Track people, make lists, approach them privately—but please, don't post it online. I can't stress this enough:

You are stirring up bad blood in an otherwise peaceful community.

Personally, I find it disheartening that you got so many positive reactions for this video. But well. That's just the world we live in:

Drag people through the circus of curiosity, let the audience laugh and applaud.

I'm currently at 0% with all my other fics because I have learned how Quillbot works and how to ignore its rigid trigger patterns for my style. But please, look them up if you like.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not advocating for AI copy/paste writers but I think I made my point very clear; at least don't leak people's usernames if you still intend to make a video. Use it to spread awareness.

Calling Ai writing (and posting it as your own) a major issue, is valid. I fully agree with you on that. Humiliating and shaming people publicly is something else.

Also please don't take this as a personal attack.

I can see that you have good intentions, but could you please reconsider your approach?

Thank you for your time!

Respectfully, Cheri 🍒

AI Call Out Because I'm Tired

So anyway, @wh1msic4lwasab1 recently posted a fic that popped up at 91% AI written, (which was only checked because one of my buddies can spot Ai writing anywhere and let me know). She then went ahead and claimed it was from Chegg and Grammarly, so I decided to make a video recording of checking things,

Mind you, in this video I put a timer in it so you can see there's no cuts. I sped parts up so it wasn't a 30 minute video, but you can see here that it's AI written.

And she's not the only one. There's been so many people using AI lately to write fics. If myself or one of my friends suspects a fic being written by AI, we tend to check it out. We're now compiling a list with recordings of going through and checking for AI and we'll be posting it once we have it, and yes it'll be a growing list.

I just don't understand why everyone is so chill with this. There was a huge uproar when people began doing generative artworks and it became something we shamed since it was stealing the work of others, and took no talent to do. This is the same thing. People are doing the same thing, but since it's harder to tell with writing, we're just letting it happen? Absolutely not.

Writing is a skill like any other. It takes time, patience, and creativity to do. There's a reason it's a job. Using AI to write your content is so disgusting. Just take the time to write it yourself. You don't know how to write? Then learn. Take the time and learn.

I'd have more respect if people at least said they used a bot to write their content, but we all know they won't because people don't want to read that.

I'm just fed up with all of this. Is it for likes and reblogs? Clout? Hustle culture? Guys wtf we're writing fan content, who cares how many likes you're getting. You should be doing this for fun, not for people to pat you on the back.

Do better.

Special thanks you: @zayne-li @starfallforest @loveanddeepgays and catgurltea (AO3) for allowing me to run their fics through an Ai checker to prove this point.

[princessmisery666]

Nobody But You, Forever.

Summary: Rick wants kids; you don’t. It’s a deal-breaker for Rick, so the relationship ends. Until Rick realizes he can have everything he wants, even if he has to take it by force.

Warnings: dark themes, implied forced pregnancy, smut, stalking, language, kidnapping, deception, imprisonment, threat of harm.

W/C: 1.8k

Rating: E (explicit - 18+)

Characters: Rick Flag

Pairing: Rick Flag x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: Rick Flag Square Filled: Free - Dark!Rick // Stalking

Notes: Set after The Suicide Squad movie - spoilers for the ending. I do not accept the ending, so I fixed it - or made it worse 🤷🏻‍♀️

A/N: This has been sitting in my WIPS too long, and I’ve been nervous about posting as it isn’t my usual stuff. This is my attempt at dark themes; there’s darker out there, though.

Betas: @writercole - read through to make sure it wasn't total bollocks // @cockslut-padalecki checked the smut cause I require her validation // @deanwinchesterswitch made sure I was using all the oxford commas 🤣 // thanks to all of them but all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: title card images google and canva

Master Lists: Main // Rick Flag Bingo

Smut from the jump so fic is under the cut.

Nobody But You, Forever.

The wet heat of your pussy was like nothing he’d ever had. You always fucked him so good he felt like he should pay you. You told him all you wanted was his love and affection, but it wasn’t enough. Not for Rick.

“I wanna put a baby in you,” Rick says, using your hips to steer you back onto his cock. “Fill you up with my cum. Would you like that, darlin’?”

“Rick,” you growl, crumpling the bedsheets in your fists. “Shut up and fuck me.”

You clench around him and scream his name in the song that he knew meant you’d cum, and he releases himself inside of you, snapping his hips sharply to make sure it goes as deep as it can. Hoping this is the time that will get you pregnant.

Once you’ve caught your breaths and cleaned up, Rick lays on his back and pulls you close to his side, your head resting on his chest.

“I love you,” he sighs contently.

“I love you too,” you say, placing a kiss over his heart.

He smooths his hand over your stomach, “maybe in nine months, they’ll be another one we can love too.”

You laugh and scoff at the same time. “Oh god, I hope not.”

“What do you mean you hope not?” he scrambles to sit up, effectively pushing you off him. “Don’t you want my baby?”

“I don’t want anyone’s baby. I don’t want kids.”

“What do you mean you don’t want kids?” Rick asks, completely bewildered. “You love your nephew, and you're so good with him.”

“Yeah, cause I can give him back,” you chuckle, “but I don’t want my own, I never have.”

“But why?”

“I don’t want children,” you repeat, climbing out of bed and grabbing his crumpled shirt from the floor. “Why does there have to be a reason beyond that I just don’t want them?”

“Cause it doesn’t make sense.”

“Rick, we had this conversation when you asked me to move in here, like two years ago,” you remind him, stomping into the bathroom. “I told you then I didn’t want any, so why is it suddenly an issue?”

“Cause I thought you’d change your mind, and I thought you loved me?”

“I do love you!”

Rick shakes his head. “Obviously not enough.”

Anything for a buck. Humans are diabolical. Vile even. But Rick doesn’t see the irony. The ‘pharmacist’ hands over the blister pack, and Rick has to admit that the guy who probably samples more of his merchandise than he dispenses it has done a fantastic job. It’s more than passable. If he didn’t know any better and hadn’t just handed over two thousand dollars for them, he’d believe they were the real deal.

“You sure it isn’t harmful?” Rick asks one more time to be sure. Again the irony goes completely over his head.

“It’s just vitamins, man.”

Vitamins packaged to simulate birth control. Finally, Rick’s plan is in motion.

Rick’s been watching you every day, following you to work, fading into the background of your social events, stalking your social media accounts. It’s a game to him; he thrives on it, especially when you notice him. He’ll let you see him for a fraction of a second and then disappear, watching as you frantically search for him. Since he decided he wanted you back, he’s been planting the seed of his reappearance for weeks.

He’s not worried that you won’t be home when he shows up unexpectedly because he knows your schedule like he knows every scar on his own body. He wonders, sometimes, if that’s what tipped him over the edge. Peacemaker gave him the worst of them, and Waller, not ready to give up her dutiful soldier, had somehow brought him back. Fuck knows how, but he never questioned it.

He understands some of his thoughts, and, most recently, his actions aren’t those of a mentally stable person. However, his morals and emotional stability were the price paid for whatever voodoo deals with the devil Waller had to make to bring him back. Waller gave him his revenge against the asshole Peacemaker, and since then, all he feels is anger and that the world owes him. So he’ll take whatever he wants from whomever he wants, and Waller can deal with the consequences. That didn’t change when he found you.

For a while, he thought he’d found a light, something to bring him out of the darkness. However, like all good things in Rick’s life, it didn’t last, two years later, it was all over. He wanted kids; you didn’t. There was no compromise to be made, so Rick decided to leave.

Fast forward one year, and Rick tried to find a new woman. He’d had two relationships, actually, but it was as transparent as glass that you were the one for him. He wanted children; that hadn’t changed, but he wanted you to have his children. No one else would do.

He knocks on the red door, a bottle of your favorite wine and a bouquet of yellow roses in hand.

“Rick,” you say, surprised but not necessarily unhappy to see him.

“Hey,” he replies, charm and sincerity pushed to the max. “I know this is out of the blue, but…”

“It’s been a year,” you nod, “to the day, actually.”

He grins - you've been thinking about him too then. This won’t be hard at all; he’ll have you eating out of the palm of his hand before sunrise.

“I made a mistake,” he implores, “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to figure it out. Can we try again?”

The smallest of smug smiles crosses your lips, and he’s not sure he’ll even need to use the crocodile tears he was totally prepared to shed to convince you.

You step back, pulling the door open further. “Come in; we can talk.”

Two drinks, a few sweet words, and a fierce kiss were all it took to get you naked and on your knees.

“Fuck,” Rick whines as you suck his cock as if you’re trying to suck the soul from his body.

Good luck with that - he thinks with a devilish smirk. You’ve let him into your home and your mouth; there’s no escaping him now. You let him pop from your mouth and lick a line from base to tip before he helps you to your feet.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, drawing him to your mouth.

“I’ve missed you too,” he tells you, “but you’ll never have to miss me again. I’m not going anywhere.”

The blister pack of your pills is on the nightstand to the left of the bed; replacing them will be easier than taking candy from a baby.

A month later.

You look so peaceful when you're sleeping, no worry lines or pursed lips, and Rick, caught up in the mastery of his plan paying off, perhaps watched you too long. He’d moved you to his desired location, a secluded cabin far from civilization under the guise of a vacation. Last night he laced your non-alcoholic wine with a sedative and waited until you’d fallen asleep. He should have done it then, but he’d been too enraptured under the realization that he’d won.

He doesn’t want to disturb your sleep, but when Rick pierces the needle into the vein of your arm, you flinch and wake. The vial is full before your grogginess wears off and he places it on the nightstand. He pulls the needle out and puts a cotton ball on the small wound.

“Rick, what’re-” you start, your eyes widening when you see the tube of your blood, “what’s going on?”

“You should be pregnant by now,” he says, matter of factly. “I need to send your blood for some tests.”

You laugh nervously. “What’re you talking about?”

“We’ve had sex every day for the last month, you haven’t got your period yet, so I think you’re pregnant.”

“I’m just a little late, that’s all. Besides, I’m on birth control, and we talked about this. You said you’d changed your mind, that you could live without kids as long as you had me.”

He puts a gentle hand on your cheek, “I want it all, baby. And you’re going to give it to me, whether you like it or not.” A whole range of emotions crosses your face; worry, panic, fear, confusion. He rolls his eyes. How are you not getting it? “I swapped out your birth control for vitamins that night I showed up at your door a month ago. I brought you here so we can be together, happy, away from the world. Just me and you and, in nine months, our child.”

You scramble off the bed and run out of the room. He’s disappointed but not surprised. He leisurely follows; you're trapped, you have nowhere to go, only you don't seem to understand that.

Slowly he strolls down the stairs, watching as you frantically try to open the front door. A step creaks under his foot, and you spin to face him.

“You’re wasting your time,” he explains, “this place is locked up tighter than Alcatraz.”

You run again anyway, toward the back of the cabin. But he knows unless you have climbing equipment, you will plummet to your death off a hundred-foot cliff face.

“Not that way either, sweetheart,” Rick calls, lazily following after you.

You bolt toward him, and he grabs you around the waist as you try to run past him. He swings you around and plants you flat on your feet but pushes you against the nearest wall, his arm pressed against your throat.

“All this stress is bad for the baby,” he sneers in your ear, “now be a good girl and just accept your fate. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing I want, but don’t think I won’t if you fight back.”

“Rick, this isn’t you,” you say, “this is crazy.”

His fist crumbles the weak plaster of the wall a millimeter from your ear. “I don’t like that word!”

“I’m sorry,” you console, and he digs his arm in deeper, enough to make breathing difficult. “I’m sorry.”

“Why can’t you see I just want to make you happy?”

“Then let me go,” you choke out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please.”

He wets his lips, grabs your hand, and forces you to grope his growing erection. “I like it when you beg,” he admits, “you really know how to make me happy, don’t you darlin’.” he presses his mouth to yours, and when you don't respond, he pulls back. “Don’t make me teach you a lesson.”

“Please, Rick, I…” The words fade as a sob wells in your throat.

He licks into your mouth and you respond. Playing along, you willingly stroke his hardening cock, and he moves his hand to cup your cunt.

“I love you, baby,” he says, pulling back to look into your eyes. “And I’m going to take care of you,” he promises, “forever.”

Master Lists: Main // Rick Flag Bingo

[toosmallformyowngood]

…ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ ◅

<:3)~

(Updated Saturday, August 31st, 2024, 10:42 PM EST) - LoM

[Disclaimer: There are a few emojis below, though I've tried to keep them as minimal as possible, as well as liberal use of bold text on important words, to help people with dyslexia and other reading troubles navigate. There is also some censorship to avoid this post popping up when certain terms are searched. I've tried to censor them in the most screen reader friendly way possible, and censored words should only register as being read with a slight pause in-between syllables. There is also some coloured text, though it is restricted to only the bullet points at the beginning of each line. I hope this doesn't cause too much trouble, and if you need me to change anything please let me know!]

Hi there, I'm LoM! I use singular they/them or it/its pronouns but may grant permission to use other pronouns to people I am extremely close to. I speak English (🇺🇲/🇬🇧) and conversational French (🇫🇷), and am learning Welsh (🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳��), so feel free to talk to me in any of those languages! Taken by my lovely girlfriend, so I'd prefer for people to avoid coming onto me, but I am okay with joking flirting (like "kissing the homies goodnight" or "marriage for tax benefits") as long as it's just for laughs! On principle I won't turn off anon asks ever but if you're a jerk I'll steal all of your left shoes and right socks. My agere sideblog is @thesmallestofall, and I have a fandom sideblog @smallandterriblyafraid (so I don't bombard my followers with my silly hyperfixations), so feel free to check those out too! That's all I can think of for now but I'll probably update some things later!

Also! Here's the specially coded comma that can go in the tags btw: ‚

(There's a link to the post that my old icon art (the bunny) was from and the post that my new icon art is from at the bottom is this post! Go check it out, the creators are both really talented!)

DNI list below! (In no particular order)

🚫 DNI if you: 🚫

- Are rac.ist, homo.phobic, trans.phobic, bi.phobic, pan.phobic, able.ist, aro/ace exclusionary, or any other form of xeno.phobic

- Think that poly.am people aren't part of the lgbtqia+ community (They are, die mad about it.)

- Are a N.S.F.T blog (Jokes and writing are okay, irl l.ewds are not. I have no problem with you I just don't want p.orn or your nu.des my dash or in my inbox, sorry fam) (art or artistic photography are okay too though.)

- Are a t.erf/rad.fem/etc (Tradwife stuff is fine so long as you aren't pushing it on anyone else. Everyone has a different vision for what they want their personal future to look like and yours is valid too, so long as you're not on "a woman's place" and all that bullshit.)

- Are a practicing M.AP (People with intrusive thoughts can stay, though. It's not your fault that your brain is giving you icky thoughts when all you want is for it to shut up; my only qualm is with people who either see no wrong in the action, or do and go through with it any way.)

- Support J.K. Row.ling and or her works

- Are anti-endo (Specifically believing endogenic systems aren't valid. If you have some trauma or whatnot I'll respect that but I won't tolerate invalidating other's identities and lived experience.)

- Are anti age.re/pet.re, etc

- Vilify mental illness

- Don't support neopronouns (Including emoji pronouns.)

- Are anti it/its pronouns

- Are a T.rump supporter, anti.masker, c.ovid denier, etc. Your conspiracy theories are not welcome here

- Are an Oni.sion stan (Kind of pedantic I know but the dude sucks to the nth degree, so-)

- Crosstag posts with both strictly N.S.F.T and sfw tags (Mistakes are fine as long as it's just a genuine slip up and you do your best to correct it. We're all human and sometimes accidents happen, but doing it on purpose or leaving it up after being told the issues is a no go.)

- Are anti.-choice/pro.-life

- Are anti free healthcare, food, water, etc

- Think autism and related quirks need a "cure" (I'm all for personal choice if the "cure" was a pill or shot but currently the "cure" is eug.enics which I am not about)

- Think DNI lists are bad or a waste of time

That's all I can think of for now. However, with that said...

✅ Do interact if you: ✅

- Are a roleplay/gimmick/character blog! I love talking to you guys! You're cool!

- Have OCs. Tell me about them! I love hearing about people's characters!

- Post oddcore, liminalcore, weirdcore, dreamcore, nostalgiacore, traumacore, etc. It may be triggering for some but I love to see it so long as it's properly tagged!

- Post kidcore, clowncore, rainbowcore, babycore, toddlercore, toycore, dollcore, cleancore, poolcore, webcore, internetcore, etc. These are a few more of my favourite -cores! If you post them or find some for me I'd love to see it!

- Like geology, paleontology, or history! These are some of my special interests and I could talk about them for hours!

That's all for now! See you later! <3

~ As promised, here's where I got my old icon art from! It was made by Rosu (I believe), a really great artist! Their bunny art is adorable!

~ Here's where I got my new icon art from!

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[apilgrimpassingby]

Looking at these, it becomes unavoidable to talk about one person in particular, because she (I believe she is actually female; will explain later) is responsible for two-thirds (top centre, middle left* and centre, all bottom) of these images: @lillybethrose1986.

She follows my blog, I've read her blog a decent bit, reblogged a few of her posts (including the one on the bottom left here, but mostly because the woman in it looked like my crush from my church youth group - teenage boy logic) and we've had quite a bit of DM interaction. This last bit has convinced me that she is, in fact, a woman, if for no other reason than that what she said sounded plausible and she specified that what she shows on her blog is what her marriage has become over the course of sixteen years and is not meant for all women.

If you're reading this, Elisabeth - sorry, I know you, you're a nice woman and probably a good one too (though of course I don't know you in real life), but I think your blog is dangerous. You talk constantly about the woman's submission but almost never about the man's love. Which is very much not the balance Ephesians 5, let alone Scripture generally, gives us. But is the balance given to us by (to quote @lamby-yogurt) "fetishists obsessed with having a hairless needless mommy to do everything for them" who are best answered with these sadly all-too-useful words of @modestyandetiquette: "That's not a girlfriend you want, [you] freak, that's a prostitute." And so I think you are - doubtless unintentionally - encouraging these boys** in their sinful, selfish and abusive behaviours, and encouraging young women to follow along with these men.

And if the tree is indeed to be known by its fruit, well, look through the notes on your posts and you'll see they're full of kink/porn bloggers. This may be attempted outreach, the way I tolerate kinksters reblogging my posts in the hope they find my blog and thus learn that headship and submission doesn't have to be degrading or sexual, but if so I rather suspect it will be ineffective due to the near-total absence of content about the husband's love.

Some may find it unbelievable that this account is indeed a woman; I do not. I can think of reasons why @lillybethrose1986 may act online as she does, but I will not share them because A) it's very rude to conduct literal*** armchair psychoanalysis of people you've only met on the internet and B) all rudeness is ruder when a man does it to a woman.

Again, Elisabeth, I'm sorry. I didn't enjoy writing this, and I like you. I like talking to you. But I believe your blog is potentially harmful. If you are upset by this (as you have every right to be), I'm willing to talk over it on DM, and probably on my blog. But at the end of the day, I still feel I have to criticise your blog like this.

EDIT: Just this day, her blog has vanished. I wonder if I had some role in doing this. If so, I feel sad. As troublesome as I found her blog, I still liked her and am thus upset about the disappearance of her from this site.

EDIT TO THE EDIT: Seeing @tradwifetradlife reblog from her, I think she's just blocked me and her blog is still up.

*And I believe that these two weren't just uploaded to Tumblr by her, they was made by her. I deduce that from sharing the mistake of a space before commas with her DM posts. The things that punctuation nazis like myself pick up on.

**I don't care how old they are, I refuse to give the dignity of manhood to people who refuse to acknowledge the dignity of women and womanhood.

***Well, I'm in a swivel chair with arms rather than a true armchair, but close enough.

I think a lot of “tradwife” blogs are fetish blogs run by creepy perverted men. “All I need in life are pretty skirts and to bake pies for my husband who is my BOSS and makes every decision!” ad infinitum. There’s no woman on earth who is that shallow. At least PRETEND that you think women are people because this act isn’t convincing in the slightest

[winterscaptain]

a kindness.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it is loving megan kane hours!! i’ve been working on this one for a while and i am so excited to share it with you!! we have ajf!pleasure is my business at last! as always, tell me what you think!! i adore your feedback. also, if you’re thinking ‘what the hell, tali! why am i missing from the tag list?????’ it’s because i redid it! the link to the form is below.

words: 4.8k warnings: language, canon-typical death, canon-typical discussion of sex work

summary: “i believe that sex is one of the most beautiful, natural, wholesome things that money can buy.” ― steve martin. au!february 2009

a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

You rap twice on the office door before pushing it open with your fingertips, peering inside while ready to retreat at a moment’s notice.

There’s no need. Aaron’s alone. 

“You’re here early,” he says, his eyes still on his paperwork. 

You snort. “So are you.” 

He looks at you over his nose. “Can I help you with something?”

Sitting down opposite him at his desk, you prop your chin on your hands and grin at him. “You stole my line.” 

“Get out of my office.” 

Your smile stays plastered on your face as you stand and cross the room, closing the door behind you. On your way out, you catch the ghost of his smile. 

+++

You watch Hotch leave the bullpen, his go-bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Where you headed?” You ask, looking up. You’re still the only one in the bullpen, taking a few consults off your teammates’ hands by typing up quick briefs they can review without going through every single comma in the file. 

He sighs. “Dallas.”

Yikes. 

“By yourself?”

He sighs. “Standby - not sure what’s going on yet. Can you -” He gestures to the hallway behind you.  

You nod and stand. “Yeah. Fly safe.” 

After you watch him leave, you turn and make a beeline for JJ’s office. She’s here early, too - pushing away the separation anxiety by diving into work. 

“Jayje?” 

She looks away from her computer, looking exhausted. “Yeah?” 

“Hotch just left for Dallas - we might have a case there, but it didn’t sound like something that would come across your desk.” 

She squints. “Why d’you say that?” 

“He had that look on his face like he was going into a room full of lawyers.” 

+++

You lean forward, jamming yourself into the circle around the table with the rest of your team. Hotch, on the other end of the line, sounds oddly well-rested. 

Spencer, as usual, gives you the history and textbook briefing before you get to the actual case. “Female serial killers are a fascinating field. We don't have much information on them, but what we do know involves throwing the rules completely out the window. Signature, for instance. They don't torture or take trophies.” 

“Because there’s no sexual gratification when a woman kills,” Derek adds. 

Looks like we’re all getting in on the pre-brief today. 

“Exactly. Murder is the goal. They don't have to do anything extra.” 

That makes you laugh a little. “So, basically, women are more efficient at killing?” 

Spencer shrugs. “Historically, they’ve had body counts in the hundreds.” 

Hotch, of course, is the one to get you all back on track. “So, assuming that the job is the stressor, what are some of the reasons prostitutes kill their customers?”

Derek, of course, is the first to follow. “Money, drugs, post-traumatic stress disorder…”

The team bounces for a moment, covering previous cases of serial killers with a history of sex work. Emily brings up Allison Wuornos, but Aaron shuts it down. He thinks this killer is organized, not so much driven by trauma or need but the mission itself. 

Spencer looks at the medical examiner’s reports again, comparing notes between the victims. “She’s using tetra-methylene-disulfotetramine.” 

You don’t look up from the same report. “Bless you.” 

Emily snorts. 

Spencer continues, unperturbed. “It’s a popular rat poison in China - easily soluble in alcohol.” 

“Poison is the perfect M.O.,” Dave notes. “Quiet, quick, and the victims never see it coming because they think they’re getting lucky.” He turns back toward the phone. “Does that mean something to you?” 

“Well, at $10,000 a night, these men are paying for discretion as well as sex.” 

Fair point.

“She has a history with them. They see her repeatedly.” 

You look over at Dave, trying to find the thread that connects Aaron’s thought to his.

Before you can really get to it yourself, Aaron spells it out for you. “She didn't decide to kill them in the moment. She walks in with the intent to kill them and she's doing it before she sleeps with them.” 

There we go. 

“So she's not just organized,” you add. “She's also methodical. Could she be parsing out which clients are worth killing and which aren’t?” 

“Maybe the victims all share the same fetish?” Emily offers. 

Derek shrugs, his eyebrows raised in thoughtful agreement. “Both victims were in their fifties, highly visible. Careful about their image. I mean, if they were kinky in the same way, they'd go to great lengths to hide it.” 

“And we're facing a corporate culture that'll do everything it can to keep us out.”

There’s the exhaustion I’m used to from Hotch. 

He sounds weird without it. 

“Actually,” JJ says, “I had some luck there. Hoyt Ashford's wife isn't too happy with how he died. But because every silver lining has a dark cloud, the hedge fund released a statement.” 

JJ pulls the statement from her file and reads aloud: “Ashford died peacefully in his home, according to lawyer David Madison.” She puts it down again. “They're already trying to close ranks.” 

Spencer frowns. “Does that language sound familiar to anyone else?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask. 

“The press release from the first victim.” He recalls, not needing the paper itself. “‘According to company lawyer, Stanton died peacefully in his home.’” 

Hotch begins to make assignments, directing Emily and Derek to the wife of the second victim. JJ’s tasked with the lawyers and you’re tasked with setup at the precinct with Spencer and Dave. When he’s done, you pick your phone up from the table, taking him off speaker. 

“What are you gonna do?” You ask.

Hotch snorts. “I’m gonna see which of the lawyers calls us back and in the meantime, see what I can get out of anyone else.” 

“Good luck.” 

+++

You’re up in your hotel room, getting a little bit settled and unpacked when you get a call to your cell. 

“Hey, Hotch.” 

There’s a sigh. “We got another body.” 

“I’ll meet you downstairs in five.” 

+++

You hop out of the car, following Aaron through the service entrance and up the back hallways to the lobby. Between your travel from your room and Aaron’s wrap-up in his, Derek and Dave beat you to the scene. 

Hotch is wearing that coat - your favorite, the one he’s apparently had for years - with the red lining and the soft wool exterior. It so rarely sees the field anymore you were afraid he’d done away with it, but every time you remember it exists and worry about its whereabouts, he brings it out again. 

Derek hands you a notebook when you reach him. You settle near Dave for the rest of the info. He, of course, delivers. 

“Victim was Joseph Fielding. He was the CFO here.” 

You frown. “Poisoned? Like the others?” 

“And staged,” Derek says. “She killed him in his office and then rolled him out here to be found.” 

“The lipstick's new,” you muse, circling the body in the elevator. “Done postmortem, it looks like.” You find Derek’s eyes with a little frown. “Reid said female serial killers don't leave a signature. I think she did that just for us. She's already exposed him at his most vulnerable.”

He hums. “Now she wants to be noticed.”

There’s some kind of scuffle at the police line - another man in a suit who thinks he’s more important than God. 

Hopefully he’s looking for Hotch. 

“Which one of you is Aaron Hotchner?” 

Ugh. Good. 

You step back and point at Aaron, getting out of his way as he shoves past the crime scene techs. 

Aaron turns. “I'm Hotchner.” 

“Larry Bartlett.” The man holds out his hand, but Aaron doesn’t take it. He retracts his hand with an unperturbed tilt of his head. “I represent Mr. Fielding in Webster Industries. 

Hotch, as usual, has no time for his bullshit. “This is a closed crime scene, Mr. Bartlett.” 

My lawyer could kick your lawyer’s ass. 

That’s a good bumper sticker. 

You shake off your thought and return to the victim, directing one of the younger crime scene techs. After a moment, you return to Derek’s side. 

“Yes. I spoke to Ellen Daniels.” This clown still sounds far too confident for his own good. “She said you're a very... reasonable man.” 

“Escort him out, please.”

You stifle a laugh. 

“No, wait. Please.” The lawyer - Mr. Bartlett - shrugs off the security team and chases after Hotch on his way to your side.  

Aaron stops, but looks inconvenienced in the extreme. 

“The press is outside and they can smell blood. Any way we can handle this discreetly?” 

“We're not about to lie for you.” Derek’s even less amused than Aaron, if that’s even possible. 

Aaron squints at the other lawyer, and you find it nearly impossible to tear your gaze from the little pinch at the corners of his brown eyes. 

You can only imagine him behind a prosecutor’s bench, laying into witnesses with the same deadpan amusement - like a bored cat with a half-dead mouse. Hoping to back him up a little bit, you get a little closer, looking skeptically at the lawyer from over Aaron’s shoulder. 

“You don't have to lie,” Mr. Bartlett insists, his eyes flickering to you. “Just don't comment.” 

“Excuse us.” He takes you by the shoulder and leads the three of you into a huddle. 

“Is there any reason to go public yet?” Aaron asks. 

Dave wavers. “Validating her is exactly what she wants.”

“If we hold back, she's more likely to make a mistake,” Derek says. 

You raise your eyebrows, looking over your shoulder for a moment. “He doesn't need to know that.” 

Hotch’s mouth twitches, and you know it’s almost a smile. He turns over his shoulder, back in game mode as he approaches Bartlett again. “We need everything you have on Fielding. Bank accounts, tax records, emails, everything.” 

+++

“Eighteen cars, six houses, and three boats.” Spencer rattles off the numbers with only the barest hint of shock in his voice. 

Your brow pinches and you look up. “Can you even boat in Dallas?” 

“You know, when you're talking about that much money, ten grand for a call girl is like deciding where to go for dinner.” 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Em,” you laugh. 

She rolls her eyes, still pinning photos to the board. “Yeah, right. My mom had a pretty cushy gig with her postings, but we were never that well-off. But...” She looks over her shoulder, “I’m sure Rossi would know a little something about that.”  

Before you can all get too out of control, Hotch reaches over you to connect to Garcia on the speakerphone. “Are you there, Garcia?” 

“Affirmative.” 

JJ flags him down. “I have half a million over here for something called the Bat Cave...” 

It really takes everything in you not to laugh. 

“...and here's a picture of him as fetish Batman. That is… wrong.” 

Emily pulls a face. 

“Is there anything this guy didn't like to spend money on?” Spencer asks.  

“Yeah,” Aaron replies. “His ex-wives. Fielding was married four times. He didn't have prenups for the first two, but he did everything he could to cut them off anyway.” 

You lean forward, trying to see the paper in his hands. “Are there children involved?” 

“Yes, with three of the wives.” He hands it over to you and looks at Emily. “Hoyt Ashford was married a few times, too, wasn't he?” 

She nods in the affirmative. 

“You know, considering that when Kevin takes me to dinner and a movie, he defaults on his student loans, this amount of money is sick.” 

Tell me about it, Pen. 

Emily sounds resigned. “What did you find?” 

Garcia outlines a series of bitter court battles about child support, alimony, custody, etc. “And even when the court ruled in the wife’s favor - which was almost always - these three charmers just, you know, decided not to pay.” 

Hotch asks for a cross-checked list of high-profile Dallas CEOs holding out on their ex-wives, and you figure it’s not a short one. 

“One loaded losers list, Dallas edition, comin' at ya. Penelope out.” 

The line goes dead and Aaron turns off the speaker.  

“So,” Aaron leans heavily on the table. “Why would a prominent businessman who could easily pay child support refuse to?” 

Spencer obliges. “For this type of overachieving personality, paying money after the marriage ends probably offends him.” 

“They're spending tens of thousands on an escort, but they won't drop a dime on their wife and kids? That's cold.” JJ shakes her head and looks over at Hotch, seeking an answer. 

“Narcissistic, self-absorbed, a pathological avoidance of paternal responsibilities.” 

There’s an odd kind of look that passes over Aaron’s face as he speaks, and you pin it for later. You can already tell he’s falling into a headspace that’s fraught with comparison and self-loathing. 

They bounce around for a moment while you keep your eyes on Aaron. 

“Well,” JJ brings you back. “Should I assemble the police for a profile?” 

Your mouth twists. “I just don't think it's gonna help.”

“She lives in a completely different world than they do,” Aaron adds. 

“And,” Emily pipes up, “the CEOs who sleep with her won't admit to it.” 

JJ snorts. “Like I couldn't even get past the team of lawyers protecting them.” 

“What if we give the profile to the corporate lawyers?” Aaron stands straight, his hands resting on his hips. “They've cleaned up after her, even if they don't realize that they've seen this woman.” 

“Why would they go for that?” You ask. 

“Because she's putting them at risk, too.”

Your phone rings and you answer as you always do, chirping your last name into the receiver without really looking too closely at the caller ID. 

“Hey, it’s me.”

You nod once to your team as you step out of earshot. “Hey, Haley.”

“I can’t get a hold of Aaron. Is everything alright?” She’s beyond surprise or concern at this point. You’re sure you could tell her Aaron’s been shot in the head and she’d probably just hum at you. 

“Yeah,” you say with a sigh. “Things are crazy and there are lawyers all wrapped up in this. Are you alright?”

“Jack’s got a fever - I just wanted to let Aaron know I’m taking him in to get checked out. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll let him know. Give Jack a big kiss from me and I’ll do my best to get us all home quickly and in one piece.” 

She laughs a little into the phone. “Thanks. Will do. Talk soon.” 

You hang up and return to the table, shooting Hotch a significant look. He nods and pulls you aside. 

“What’s up?” 

“Jack has a fever - Haley just wanted me to let you know she’s taking him to the pediatrician to get him all checked out, just in case. I told her we’d all do our best to get home soon.” 

Aaron sighs and flips his phone in his hand. “I’ll call her now…”

“No need. She knows this is a tough one and you’re getting your money’s worth out of your JD this week.” 

When he starts to walk away, you call his name again. He turns. 

“You know - um.” You wet your lips and swallow. “You’re not like these guys. You know that, right? You’re a great dad.” 

His face lifts in surprise for a fraction of a second before he recovers. 

“Thank you,” He says. “Really.”

You offer him a crooked smile. “Anytime.”

+++

Hotch stops you all before you enter the conference room, full to the brim with suits and pantsuits. “Let me lead on this one. I’ve handled corporate lawyers like this before and they can smell blood.” He snorts. “This time, it’s their own.” 

You and Derek raise your hands in simultaneous and identical postures of surrender. 

“Have at it,” you say, falling into line behind Aaron. “Corporate lawyers scare the fuck out of me.” 

+++

“Hey, Prentiss. Got a whip?” Derek holds the leather outfit to Emily’s shoulders and she laughs. 

“Yeah, right.” 

You fondly roll your eyes at them and continue following off Aaron’s right shoulder. The two of you reach the bookshelf - an impressive glass case that runs from the floor to the ceiling. 

 Aaron’s gloved finger opens the case and runs over some of the spines. “Antique first editions on the bookshelves.” 

Rossi quips something about porn in the DVD player while Spencer espouses about the merits of a disposable, adaptable lifestyle in this line of work. 

“Well, these aren't just for show,” Aaron says. “The spines are cracked. Somebody's read these.” 

You peer over his shoulder. “Who reads Voltaire in French?” 

“Someone with good taste. Probably well-educated…”

You pick up where he trails off. “We profiled that she learned to fake privilege. What if she's not faking it?” 

“You're saying maybe she came from money the whole time?” 

You shrug. “It’s a possibility, at least.” 

Just then, the apartment phone rings. 

“Prentiss should answer,” Aaron says. “If it's a customer, she'll get more information out of them.” 

You hum, hedging your bets a little. ‘Unless she's calling in for her messages.” 

Too late. Derek’s already on the phone with Penelope. “Yeah, Baby Girl, we're getting a call to this line. Can you work some magic?” 

“I don't have a trap-and-trace in place yet. Give me a few. I'm gonna stay on the line.” 

Aaron gives her the go-ahead. “Prentiss, get ready to vamp.” 

The voicemail picks it up before Emily can so much as reach for the phone. 

“Hi, it's me. You know what to do.” Beep. 

“...Aaron.” 

You turn your head so fast you throw your neck out. You raise a hand to the crick and work it with your fingers. Aaron’s too busy frowning at the phone to notice. 

“I know you're up there. Pick up… Aaron Hotchner... Hello?” She drags out her words, almost flirting with everyone listening. 

With a sigh, Aaron pushes past the rest of you, silently counts to three, and picks up the phone while Emily clicks the speakerphone button. 

“I'm at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, But I don't know yours. Can we start there?” 

Nice start. 

The game has begun. 

“I thought I could trust you, Aaron.”

What? 

The pinch between his brows deepens. “Who says you can't?” 

“I want to. I even looked you up online. Is that strange?”

Yes.  

“No.” Aaron wets his lips and begins to pace, the gears whirring in his head. “It's flattering to be noticed by a woman like you.” 

The woman continues as if he hasn’t said anything at all. “And I thought you were so... upstanding. I watched the presentation you gave on school shootings. I found it posted on YouTube...” 

She has good taste. That’s an excellent presentation. 

“...And for a moment, I actually thought there were still good people in the world.” 

“But I've disappointed you, haven't I?” He asks. “Just like all the other men in your life Who've walked out on their families, Who deserve to be punished.” 

“Did you walk out on your family?” 

His eyes flicker to you and you nod, nearly imperceptibly, reminding him he’s not alone. “No. My wife left me.” 

“Do you have kids?” 

“I have a son.” 

A sweet, thoughtful, perfect son. 

You smile a little, thinking of Jack, but it disappears when you remember that he’s home sick with Haley, probably having a miserable time. 

“How often do you see him?” She asks. 

 “I try to see him every week.” 

“Do you see him every week?” The question is mocking, smothered in dark amusement that could almost be called sarcasm save for its bitterness.  

“No,” Aaron’s eyes fall to the floor. “No, I don't get there as often as I want.” 

“I believe you.” Her response is softer, and you think she might make a decent profiler if she wasn’t on the other side. 

She is a profiler. 

In some ways, you suppose it’s true. She has to read and respond to everything her clients do, say, how they behave. It makes her good at her job and you good at yours. 

Same skillset, very different application. 

“But don't compare yourself to the men I see,” she continues. “You are nothing like them. You're just another whore.” 

Never in my life did I ever think I’d hear someone call Aaron Hotchner a whore. Unironically. 

That catches everyone’s attention, even Derek’s, still on hold with Penelope. 

“How am I a whore?” He asks. 

“You come when called. You do their bidding. In hotels you take the side elevator to avoid crowds, while the men who pay your salary walk across the ivory marble foyer into their cars.” 

Derek, behind you, presses. “Garcia.” 

You can hear her, faintly. “I'm in on the landline. Triangulating the cell. Give me like sixty seconds.” 

You gesture to Aaron when he looks. Keep going. 

He nods. “But I'm just frustrating you, aren't I?” 

She sighs, sounding a little impatient for the first time. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you want to show the world all these bad men and my investigation's just getting in your way.” 

“No, Aaron.” You almost startle, her tone escalating to a deeply frustrated shout. “You're not doing your job! You don't want to arrest me, you don't want me in custody because you're in their pocket.” 

She’s crying now, actively. “You just want me to disappear, just like they do.” 

“Truthfully, I'm only interested in finding you.” 

Now that’s a tone you recognize - you’ve heard it when he talks to Haley. Most recently, when he couldn’t make it to some appointment or another. It’s one that’s disarming in the extreme, soft, but not condescending. 

“You've been betrayed so many times, You don't know who to trust, And that's why that first murder felt so good. But each one since has been less and less satisfying. You know that's going to continue.” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Am I right?” 

Just like Haley always does, the woman loses steam, sniffling once before answering. “Yeah.”

“Come to me and turn yourself in. I will make sure that you get the help you need. I won't let you disappear.” 

“If we met under different circumstances... I could believe that. I won't let you cover this up.” 

A gunshot rings through the line and you flinch, turning to Derek just as the line goes dead. You know Penelope will have something for you soon. 

She never fails, directing you to an address only moments after the elevator doors close in front of the team. 

+++

Once you found Megan Kane, it was easy enough to find her father. 

You could empathize with her mission well enough after meeting him. He’s shrouded by his lawyers - detached and seemingly indifferent to anything Aaron had to say. 

Aaron starts the car and you settle back into the seat. “So, the wall of lawyers strikes again.” 

A shadow of a smile ghosts around the creases at the corners of his eyes. “So it seems.” 

“What’s next?” 

“We tail him - home and office. He’ll meet with her soon enough.” 

Your brow furrows. “Not to protect her, right? It doesn’t seem like he cares that much.” 

Aaron turns, placing his hand on the back of your seat as he pulls out of the parking spot. You’re momentarily distracted as he turns back, spinning the wheel with the heel of his hand and gunning it out of the garage. 

Focus. 

“No,” he says. “Think about it.” 

It comes to you only seconds later. “To protect himself.” 

“There you go.” He turns to you, another little smile threatening. “You’re getting pretty good at this.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’ve been here over a year, Hotch. I’d fucking hope so.” 

You’re rewarded with a real smile, and it’s enough. 

+++

You take Derek’s six through the hotel, clearing the floors and reporting back to the rest of the team. SWAT is in full deployment, clearing the hard-to-reach areas like the stairways and rooftops, just in case. 

Aaron catches up to you, taking the four o’clock position off your left shoulder as Derek breaches the door. 

The gun and chilled champagne sit like ironic centerpieces on the entry table, but they hardly use any of your bandwidth as you clear the room, your vision narrowed by the sight of your service weapon. 

You hold a hand up when you catch the figure on the balcony. “Hotch.” 

He squints, and you move to raise your gun again and make the arrest, but he stops you with a hand over yours. “Easy.” 

There’s a question in your eyes. 

He, of course, answers it. “She knows it’s over.” 

Just then, she places an empty champagne glass on the table where you can see it. 

“I’ll call 911,” Derek says, stepping out and closing the door behind him. 

You turn to leave with Derek, but catch Aaron’s open hand, subtly signaling you from just under his hip.  

Stay here. It says. Stay close. 

So, you stay. You lean on the far wall of the hotel room, watching Aaron hold the hand of this dying, hurting woman. They’re speaking softly, and she smiles at him when she drops something into his hand. His eyes are soft, gentle, not even searching. Just warm. 

You feel for her. 

It’s the best way to go, you think. If there was ever a time you were dying before your time, you’d want Aaron there, holding your hand, telling you he was going to continue the work that killed you, that it was gonna be okay. 

“How could your wife have ever left someone like you?” You hear her ask. 

As much as you love Haley, the same question often floats through your head, and your heart aches for this woman who’s been able to see Aaron so clearly, even if she’s only seeing him for the first time now. 

“You’re the first man I’ve ever met who hasn’t let me down.” 

You creep forward, further into Aaron’s eyeline, and sit on the edge of the couch. She’s close to her last breath and you can feel it - so can Aaron. His eyes flicker to you for a moment before returning to her. 

Megan’s voice is full of tears when she asks, “Will you stay with me?” 

You have a feeling it isn’t the first time she’s asked the question and you find yourself hoping Emily will be particularly rough with the handcuffs when she apprehends Mr. Kane. Hopefully he didn’t make it past the checkpoint and is still on-site.  

“Yes.” Aaron is solemn, so sincere, so genuine it makes your heart ache. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

You’re not even sure he realizes it, but he’s doing her a great kindness - one that many would not offer. 

It’s because he is good.

A good man. 

The tension drains out of her, and she grips tightly to Aaron’s hand as she fights through her final breaths. His hands are gentle, his attention only on her. He looks more like a father in this moment than any other time you’ve known him. She’s safe. She knows she can die in peace. 

Once more, you hope you have the opportunity to leave this plane of reality in such safety, when your time comes. 

When she’s gone, he places her hand in her lap and takes a moment to brush the hair off of her face, pressing the back of his fingers to her temple as if checking her for fever. 

After a minute or so, he turns to you, and you hope the pride and respect coursing through you is evident in your gaze. You pull an evidence bag out of your pocket, but he shakes his head, pocketing the SIM card. 

You rise as he gets closer, returning the evidence bag to your pocket. He’s clearly affected, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. 

Opening your arms to him, he wilts into you, allowing you to gather him into your shoulder. His arms are loose around your waist, his fingers wrapped around his opposite wrist as an anchor. It’s a rare moment of vulnerability and you’d hate to make him feel anything less than safe. 

You still have a minute or so before they all come stomping through the door to collect Megan’s body. 

“I’m sorry, Hotch.” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know why this one hurts.”

Your arms tighten around him. “It’s okay. I feel it, too.” 

A deep, shaky breath rolls through him. 

“She’s right, you know.” You almost regret your words, afraid you’re giving yourself away. 

“What?”

“You didn’t let her down. You’re a good man.” 

His jaw tightens, and you can feel it against your neck where his head falls into your shoulder. 

“Oh, stop. You’ve never let me down.” Your hand reaches up, stroking the back of his head, carding your fingers through the hair. “She died knowing you kept your promise.” 

+++

You look up to Aaron’s office when news of the leak breaks, finding his silhouette haunting the window, staring at the television. 

A ghost of a smile crosses his face, and he turns back to his desk, settling back down to work. 

+++

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