#from someone that was raped at 16 and is a sex worker now

[rawrsatthetree]

Every other post about Astarion: he mentions he has a complex relationship with sexual intimacy once so you can’t ever think about his character sexually cause he’s a traumatized UwU bean. Totally disregarding that he was horrible tortured for 200 years because being a sex worker is so much more traumatizing. You can only treat him like a sweet innocent sexless being or your objectifying him and sexually harassing him. (Basically the Madonna Whore Dichotomy)

Me, a sex worker, just trying to find one fic where he isn’t written like a 16 year old girl:

[chaifootsteps]

Media Illiteracy anon here.

Onto the dreaded episode 4... Warning for SA and all that, of course.

I would like to start by saying that by Definition I am a CSA survivor (I was sexually exploited from age 10 to 16, made to produce CP). But I don't really consider myself to be one since I am not... traumatized by it? I just don't care that it happened. So I don't think I can say much in the way the episode handles SA or even how it might trigger someone who was also exploited for the making of pornography.

That being said. Yikes. I think this episode is the best one so far, as much as it pains me to say that. It's the best paced and it sticks to one plot and the plot... has Some good moments. I really liked the scene where Valentino yells at Angel that he should get rid of Charlie and how he physically abuses him. I think that scene is The best scene in the entire show because of how terrifying it is and how well it shows the damage he causes to Angel as well as his relationships with other people.

I think that scene should've literally been it. It shows physical abuse, it shows Angel's fear, how Valentino owns him (literally) and even implies the SA to come when he says he's going to make him work all day. Overworking is already a horrible thing to put someone through, but as a sex worker there'd be a point where it's no longer enjoyable and you want to stop, which is where it then also becomes rape. That line was Terrifying and made you feel dread with just the Implications of what was gonna happen to Angel, as if This wasn't already bad enough.

Then they ruined it with that stupid song.

Now Poison is not a bad song, in my opinion. I think it sounds nice, and even looking at the lyrics (which is not something I usually focus on, due to the Illiteracy I mentioned), I don't think it's awful. But putting That over a scene where Angel Dust is getting raped On Screen is a bit Very tasteless. That whole scene was Awful, you could easily tell that whoever made it clearly had a thing for it. I'd seen the leaked clip before and that was enough for me to realize how fetishized it was, but seeing there was more was just. Augh. Do they have no shame? It's so blatantly obvious I felt like I was looking at a NSFW Twitter animation.

I kind of hated the aftermath, too. Angel going back to the hotel and drinking was good, but I hated him coming onto Husk like that and then pulling a "a nice guy like me is too good for you anyway". I feel like I had never fully realized before that the Angel and Husk thing was sexual harassment, cause you grow up with movies and shows where like. A female character coming onto a male one is just. Normal, and the result would be them getting into a relationship Anyway, so it was harder for me to recognize that it qualified as Harassment. I think Angel saying that shit made me realize it was and then it was just. Weird. Also the way the line is worded and delivered, it sounds less like that's something Angel is parroting back from what Valentino usually tells him, and more like he wholeheartedly believes it, which certainly didn't help.

Following scene I also kind of like. The bar scene. I liked that even if Husk was reluctant in going, since he doesn't like Angel, and was stalling for time so he wouldn't have to talk to him, he Still stepped in when he saw someone putting something in his drink. I think if this show was written better that could've been a way to show that even those who think they've hit rock bottom are still humans with morals at the core of their beings, and that they still have the ability to care and do good even with years worth of bad decisions and an environment that encourages depravity.

I also liked him getting him out of there and trying to care for him, in his own grumpy old man way. I liked the dark revelation that Angel knows when he's being drugged, and that he just let's it happen because he thinks it gives him some control and that if he's broken enough by this random men, Valentino will finally let him go. That was really messed up.

Then Loser Baby comes on and fucking.

Okay so, I Really like Loser Baby. It's the best show in the show so far. The instrumentals are nice, it's catchy, the lyrics are a little silly and fun, and Keith David carries it, though Blake Roman is not half bad. It's the context in which is used that makes this song just flop HARD.

I think everyone understands what the song was meant to be, and I think it doesn't do Too horribly at connecting both of their situations and how they're not alone because they have each other. It fails at everything else though, because beyond "both are owned by Overlords", Angel's and Husk's situations have Nothing to do with each other, they are Not comparable.

Also calling Angel, a rape victim, a loser is not. Good, even as lighthearted as it is. The song is "suck it up, slut", and while kind of in character for someone in Hell or as grumpy/harsh as Husk, it's still. Yikes? It minimizes the situation way too much, this is not an "Oopsie, made the wrong choices in life" moment. He's getting actually abused and that's not his fault.

Also Alastor fucked off for 7 years and all he makes Husk do now is man a bar where he does nothing all day except drink alcohol. Angel is going through the worst Alastor could've done to Husk, on a Daily Basis, and even if Alastor could be cruel, it would be extremely out of character for him to straight up Rape Husk too. Or torture him without killing him, even torture doesn't seem like something he would do, at least not to Husk specifically.

Husk's lines are tone deaf and kind of offensive, but I think they're passable since it's at least Trying to say something positive, even if they're doing it poorly. Angel's though... Again, you can just Tell someone with a fetish is writing him. I hate how he says "I've got an appetite for samplin'" and "I've got no holes left to deflower". That's super insensitive, it doesn't even feel as an Hypersexuality thing, especially that second line. It doesn't feel like it's "i love being a slut because it's reclaiming my stolen sexuality", it feels like. Shock? Value? like "i'm a big whore", and that's it. It's hard to put into words, because the message comes across in every bad possible way, I have Nothing positive to say about it.

The only good thing about Loser Baby that I like, aside from the sound of the song itself, is the little dancing bits between Husk and Angel. They're kind of cute, I like how he's trying to cheer him up by pulling him up and making him dance with him a little bit.

Augh. After that there's this bit where Husk says Angel needs to learn to respect his boundaries. I Like this scene but the context diminishes the impact it could've had by a lot. It's trying to acknowledge that Angel's sexual harassment is Bad, whether it's a trauma response or not, and that he needs to Stop. And Husk is willing to start from zero with him and become friends if they start like that.

I kind of Like that they're acknowledging that it's bad, and i Would've liked Husk telling him they can be friends if he learns to respect his boundaries but like. Do we Really want to be like that about someone who sexually harassed someone else? That they can be friends? I feel like that is a bit insensitive and offensive to victims. I myself would Not like to be friends with my abuser even if he begged on his knees to be my friend.

It's also implied that Husk and Angel end up romantically involved. If you could excuse the befriending thing, saying that maybe it's not the same since Angel never Touched Husk sexually, i still think that going and making them Lovers is harmful. A "he yanks on your ponytails because he likes you" kind of situation. I like them as friends, hate them as lovers.

Another big problem I have is Charlie. She's a cardboard cut out in her own show. She's a background character in the episode where she causes the main conflict.

She's a bit of a pushover, cause she's nice. Even with pilot Charlie I don't think she's too OOC since calling the news reporter a bitch and defending yourself against her is not really comparable to being face to face with a rapist who is actively harming your friend. She can't just kill him, sinners reform eventually, and then be would be even angrier. Not at her but at Angel, because it's his fault Charlie even got to lay a hand on him in the first place. I think it's a more complex situation than "why didn't she just kill him".

But for as complex as the situation could be, Charlie is extremely. Simple. She barely appears and it's just "I'm sorry" and it's all fixed. I feel like there could've been a bigger emphasis on Charlie's and Angel's relationship (even while still keeping Husk's involvement in it all). I also kind of hate the treatment of her? Like how when Angel says he forgives her, she Cries and is carried away by Vaggie. Idk, that scene made me a bit uncomfortable. They treated her as if she was a child and it was Weird.

I think this episode had a lot of potential to be good and fumbled the bag catastrophically. Husk and Charlie are Worse characters because of it.

That's all. I can only hope the plot twist leaks aren't true, because this story is barely salvageable and that "Rosie is actually Lilith" bullshit will just ruin my experience from how stupid it is. You can be as painfully oblivious as me and this show will still find a way to make itself as dreadful as possible. I really don't understand why so many fans are so aggressive about criticism, I think they also see the disappointing bits but are far too committed to back down and admit they were wrong, so they just double down. I liked Most of the show, even though it's mostly because i already had Some attachment, curiosity and knowledge from before. But it's not as good as it had the potential to be, nor is it the single best show to have ever existed. It's honestly sad that many people, such as myself, have to go on anon on a poor person's blog to lightly criticize the show, because they're too afraid to be harassed or sent their literal house address on a direct message.

Thank you and goodnight, Chai!

You see, this is what I get out of running this blog. You guys write up these fabulous essays taking all the words out of my mouth, and it's deeply cathartic.

Try to hang in there. Vivzie's fandom will probably never go away completely, but I really do think their reign of terror is coming to an end.

[riverdamien]

Let's Dance!

Lets Dance!

Luke 16:19-31

New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

The Rich Man and Lazarus

19 “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. 20 And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, 21 who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. 22 The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.[a] The rich man also died and was buried. 23 In Hades, where he was being tormented, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side.[b] 24 He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in agony in these flames.’ 25 But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things and Lazarus in like manner evil things, but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. 26 Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ 27 He said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house— 28 for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ 29 Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ 30 He said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’ 31 He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’ ”

---------------------------------------------

"Richsplaining is when a person who hasn't experienced poverty gives you patronizing advice on how to get out of poverty."

------------------------------

People who love are never strangers to each other. We discover this whenever  we are thrown together with generous souls in a crisis, for we dance together as equals in the dance of life.

        Today as I walked down Van Ness, and came back to Polk Street my heart grieved as I saw the pain of people sleeping in tents, in blankets or nothing,wearing dirty clothes all along both streets.

    One woman sitting in a tent shared with me her recent diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, and was told she would be able to go to San Francisco General in her last weeks. Her response was she simply wanted pain killing drugs and she wanted to die on the street, she did not want to be treated as an object.

    People who  are homeless, and the very poor are richsplained, patronized by people who have not experienced poverty, and who simply tell them how and where they should live or what they should do.

    When I found myself on the streets in the midst of poverty, violence, being raped, beat up, and treated like nothing by the police and everyone else because I was a "sex worker", a queer and homeless, my eyes were opened to "Richsplaining"!

    Until we have walked in the same "moccasins" as others, we truly do not understand.

I have come to understand that when I expect people who are housed and have money to change I too am "Richsplaining".

To dance the dance of life, we must look at ourselves, and break through that which separates  Lazarus and the rich man. It is hard, difficult because we have to let go of our thinking and opinions and dance the dance of love, walking in the moccasins of the other.

Gloria Steinem once said: "The first problem of all of us men and women, is not to learn but to unlearn."

And a part of unlearning is to remind ourselves  that until you go through the struggles of being queer, black, poor and homeless, than hold back, be our friend. Never think you truly understand! Be our allies!

When we walk by homeless on the street, not pay attention, and not seeing their suffering, one is "Richsplaining". To ignore the suffering is "Richsplaining!

When we think we know the answers to people of color, queer people, and are white and straight we are "Richsplaining".

When we quote the Bible, or tell people they are wrong in their belief and that other religions are not right, for "my" religion is the only one, we are "Richsplaining".

When we are not a professional in a chosen field and from simply reading about a subject and diagnose and give a professional opinion on others we are "Richsplaining".

Jesus was clear in the central tenet of  his faith: "Love on another."

We can continue on our path of being the "rich man", or we can struggle and fight and try to walk in the shoes of Lazarus.

The Gospel is clear, we can "Love one another," we can "try" and we can change ever so slowly. I have placed my life upon on the power of Jesus, in my life to walk in the path of love, and to seek to treat people equally, I fail time and again. I bear the scars in my journey, I was recently hurt, and my PTSD has flared but I believe with all of my heart that love, the love of God, the God of many faces, is the only way in this life and the next.

Come with me in "unlearning" become as a child, and walk equally with all. Eckhart Tolle says "Life is the dancer and you are the dance", so be the dance of love! Join me in "trying"! Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Let Love Ache

Father, give me the courage to keep on loving.

when others keep on hurting.

help me to live an achy love, a gritty,

persistent and emptying love;

a love that’s not afraid to flow toward the other

who has little left to offer in return.

And may I tread faithfully with heaven

through the unfinished work that surrounds me.

Commoners_Communion

Strahan Coleman

Coronavirus rates are rising again! Wear your masts in crowds, and public transportation!

While for many the virus may simply be like a cold, but the death rate is rising, I recently held the hand of a young  person dying, so know that we each have a responsibility to one another!

---------------------

Fr. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

punkpriest1@gmail.com

www.temenos.org

.

[the-phsycopath-blog]

irrational pregnancy mind?

Maybe. Feeling crazy lately, love my partner more than anything yet don’t have the energy to show it. Have a great life yet nothings feeling great. feel like a terrible mum but logically I know I’m a great one.

Spinning too many plates? Perhaps. Mum to a toddler, step mum to a toddler, pregnant, house keeper, full time worker and a wife. Too much? Perhaps. To drop which one? The work but need the money. Egh the limbo of adult life.

Disappearing seems like a good option at this point. Crazy. Not death just off grid. The family and nothing else to worry about, I can see why so many people loose their minds. Which I could afford to loose mine but so many depend on me.

you know I’m 23 n I’m privileged. I’m healthy, safe and warm. Always have been but I carry a lot of stuff from the past that I’ve just never gotten off my chest.

as a teenagers I was forgotten about by my family because my brother was the problem child. i medicated myself for mental health issues at 13 after an attempt at taking my own life.

I was bullied from 10yrs old until I just cut everyone off at 17 for being small, non academic, flat, spotty, chavy, posh. You name it, I was bullied for it.

dressed my half naked dying mum at the age of 9 years old because she was internally bleeding to death. Then had to wait in a house with just my brother alone for my dad whilst she was taken to hospital in an ambulance.

visited my dad in hospital which felt like forever because he nearly died of meningitis at age 7, told my doctors that he wouldn’t make it.

after countless silly teenage relationships with boys where I was made out to be a slag (forced into sexy al activities through peer pressure, never had sex despite them saying I had) I found my self in a relationship at 15 with a drug addict three years older who beat me up repeatedly and rapped me. He then cheated on me in front of me.

16 a moved in with my mum and spent a year indoors because My anxiety was so bad I thought I would die if I left the house.

17 went to a college for kids with issues, met a boy who posted some nudes he’d taken of me whilst I was asleep at a party on the internet.

18 went to college properly and became addicted to MDMA and binge drinking. Had an overdose.

19 rekindled love with the love of my life form my childhood but was a recovering addict and had a serious alcohol problem

left my love of my life because I need to sort myself out but instead went on a self destruction gap year in which I got heavily intoxicated and raped once and drunk pressured into sex twice.

met the bio father of my daughter, raised his child for two years whilst he cheated on me, before falling pregnant with my daughter whilst on contraception.

Spent the following year creating a home, raising a child that wasn’t mind and growing my child and planning a wedding all whilst being emotionally abused daily, raped nightly And watched through cameras in the house.

fell pregnant in the February after having my daughter and miscarriaged at 3 months pregnant on my own whisky looking after my daughter because he was somewhere doing someone.

when baby was 8 months old got told ‘I don’t want to marry you anymore’ whilst lay in bed one night and two days later moved 80miles away with a baby into my little brothers room and had to start fresh with literally nothing but clothes and a phone.

now I’m here

[boldlyvoid]

Hypothetically | Chapter 16-20

summary: Reader and Spencer were friends in kindergarten, she watched him grow up and explore the world while she was still trying to catch up to him. now that they work together, they fall in love incredibly fast.

friends to lovers, case of the week style story

A/N: Set between seasons 4 and 6, not following canon. all original crimes based on real-life stories.

Warnings 18+: Murderers, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Blood, Guns, mentions of autopsy, Fluff, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, bed-sharing, Riding, Unprotected Sex, Virgin Reader, Case of the Week, original crimes, Food mention, Smut, Oral Sex, Light BDSM, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, obgyn appointments and info, Home Invasion, Past Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Emotional Manipulation, Grooming, Pedophilia mention, non-con oral (male receiving), Pregnant Sex, Daddy Kink, Breeding Kink, Homophobia, conversion therapy

Word Count: 10k

chapter 16

It was 7 am when they got the call. Y/N had barely gotten any sleep that night, Spencer was adamant that laying on the left side helps maximize blood flow. Meaning she faced the wall all night with him happily cuddled into her back. She hated it.

Between peeing 100 times a day and the constant heartburn, she couldn’t really pick the worst part about creating a human.

It fuckin’ sucked and no one thought to warn her.

She dragged herself out of bed, trying her best to do her morning routine with only one eye open. Spencer, on the other hand, seemed to bounce out of bed like he slept 12 hours. Dancing around the kitchen as he poured his coffee and took a smoothie out of the fridge for Y/N.

He fed the cat, changed the litter and even took out the garbage by the time she pulled herself from the bathroom and to her closet.

Her jeans didn’t fit, she let herself take a minute to cry out of frustration in the closet before she looked for anything presentable. The only pants she could get into were a pair of leggings, and at that point, she didn’t care anymore. She was probably going to stay back with Penelope anyway.

She threw on an FBI sweater to hide her bump from the rest of her co-workers, grabbed the rest of her shit and followed Spencer to the car. Getting in the passenger seat and immediately closing her eyes again.

“Wake me up when we’re at Quantico,” she told him. Leaning against the window, ignoring the world.

Maternity parking was the only bonus, she only had to walk 4 feet from her car to the elevator. She felt lazy, but she was allowed to.

“Hopefully,” Spencer finally spoke to her as they entered the elevator. “At the end of this week, your energy should return as your placenta is done developing. You’re the most tired right now because your organs are working 3 times harder than they’re used to.”

“I’m tired because I had nothing to cuddle with all night, but thanks for the insight,” she tried her best to be cheery.

The door dinged, opening to the rest of the team standing in the entryway. “What’s up?” Y/N asked them.

“Hotch got a call, we’ve got a weird one coming in, he’s in his office talking to someone right now,” Morgan said. He looked just as tired as Y/N.

“Are we going in?” She asked, walking past them and towards the bullpen.

She rushed through the room and waddled up the stairs, searching for a chair before she actually passed out. Everyone followed her soon after, patting her back as they walked around the table to their seats.

“Over the past few months 6 feet have washed up on different beaches along the coast of Maine,” Penelope started explaining the case while Hotch was still on the phone in his office.

“6 feet belonging to 6 different people, all incredibly hard to identify. Interpol, Europol, the RCMP and the FBI have all been in communication with each other as no one knows where the feet washed in from. International Water laws prohibit just one of us from taking jurisdiction until we identify the nationality of the victims.”

“How are we going to Identify the feet?” Prentiss asked.

“We’re currently running the DNA against missing persons along the east coast as well as anyone who recently travelled to North America by boat, so far we don’t have any matches. We do know all 6 feet are white so hopefully, hopefully,” Garcia repeated for extra magic help, “this isn’t a refugee transport gone wrong.”

“We’ve been seeing an increase of boating accidents from Syrian refugees recently,” Spencer added. “The wars in the middle east are continuing to push people from their homes in mass numbers, meaning a lot of the boats are overpacked and capsize mid extraction.”

“So we’re probably looking at someone from North America who is using their own boat to sail out and release victims,” Y/N added. “Do we have the ME reports on the 6 feet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Garcia said, flipping through papers and handing them to her.

She read it over carefully, trying to see through her new blurred vision. Another wonderful pregnancy symptom. “Normally when feet wash up on shore, they’re in shoes. If a body is lost in a boating accident or drowning, the rubber soles will always want to float to the surface. When a body is decaying in water long enough the bones will separate, and when the ankle bone goes, the feet float to the surface,” Y/N explained.

“How do you just know that?” Rossi asked.

“In Nevada, we had a lot of drownings in a man-made lake, people would get stuck at the bottom on tree roots. And every year a few feet would wash up,” she added. “I only explained that because it says in the ME report that the feet were cut with a sharp blade, all clean cuts with no shoes or socks. So someone is cutting these bodies up and bringing them out to sea, probably to use as bait for a big catch.”

“It’s weird to me that the feet are the only parts washing up?” JJ’s face was absolutely puzzled as she flipped through the files.

“Not really,” Y/N argued, “I’m more concerned with why he’d even cut the feet, to begin with. With most shark attacks they go for full limbs, if I was the unsub and I was cutting the body up for bait, I wouldn’t make the pieces so small. There isn’t enough blood or flesh on feet to entice a large fish or shark to take it.”

Rossi was tapping his fingers against the table, “Do you think he wants us to find the feet?”

“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look good.”

Then, Hotch finally walked in. “Which 3 of you want to travel to Maine to take a look at all the findings?” Prentiss, Morgan and Rossi raised their hands, “alright, meet me on the runway in 20. The rest of you, find a way to identify the feet.”

—

She sat at her desk most of the morning, munching on a bag of animal crackers to keep her nausea at bay. JJ brought her a cold ginger ale around 11, rubbing her back for a bit while she flipped through files.

She had a doctor’s appointment during lunch that day, so she headed downtown to give blood in the hour she was permitted. Knowing that she could be late and no one would really care.

She waited in Dr. Korrapati’s room patiently, looking at her arm as she rested it on the table. Her veins were more prominent now than they had ever been in her life. JJ insured her that they would go back down but it did make her a little self-conscious.

“Hey mama,” Dr. Korrapati cheered as she walked into the room. “How are we feeling?”

“Good, tired but good.”

“Work kicking your butt?” She asked as she prepped her arm for the blood draw. “Or just the baby?”

“Having a hard time finding a comfortable sleeping position, I’m probably going to get one of those long pillow things to help,” she rambled to take her mind off what was going on with her arm.

For someone who looked at dead bodies as her job, seeing her own blood freaked her out. Dr. Korrapati noticed she was a little stressed, “how about when I’m done here we take a look at your little person?”

That piqued her interest, she sat completely still and looked away as the nicest doctor she could’ve asked for, got the test over and done with, in record-breaking time.

“Do you have any other symptoms that are bothering you?” She asked as she wrote the exact tests down in her paperwork.

“Yeah,” she struggled with the sleeve of her shirt as she tucked her arm back in. “The nausea is driving me nuts, I’m living on animal crackers and ginger ale.”

“If you eat small meals every few hours it should settle it out,” she explained. “But if it is really bothering you we can give you some anti-nausea medication.”

“I tried that, everyone keeps bringing me snacks and trying to take care of me but I don’t want anything because I’m so tired,” she ranted as she climbed onto the exam table.

“Have you tried sleeping on the other side of the bed?” She asked.

“no, why?”

Dr. Korrapati laughed, “you sleep on the left side of the bed right?”

“Yeah?” She questioned, wondering how an OB could profile so well.

“So I'm assuming your smart and overprotective boyfriend has advised you to lay on your left side like he told JJ?” She smiled. “And because you sleep on the left side of the bed already, that means you’re not cuddled into him. He’s the big spoon now and you hate it.”

It was like a lightbulb went off in her head, “oh my god?”

They laughed at the fact it was so obvious and she never clued in. “It happens all the time, you’re so in a routine that you don’t realize you can just switch sides and it’ll work.”

“You’re so smart!”

“Ready to hear and see this baby of yours?” She asked, waiting for Y/N to raise her shirt and lower her leggings to expose her lower stomach.

“Can we?”

“Yep,” she nodded, “you’re in week 9, so you’re exiting the embryo stage and moving towards the fetal stage. We’ll be able to see the fetus and hear the heartbeat.”

“Can I record it for Spencer?” She asked, not wanting him to miss it.

“I’ll do you one better and put it on a disk for you.”

Just like that, she was smothering her stomach in warm jelly. Spreading it around with the ultrasound wand before she began to search for them. Pressing in slightly on her right side, she heard her own heartbeat whooshing. The closer she got to the centre, the more they heard the second.

Her baby’s heartbeat was strong. She saw them on the monitor, they had changed from being a jellybean to actually looking like a person. 4 strong limbs were stretching and moving, growing faster than she thought possible.

“That’s insane?” She was in such awe of it, “when will I feel the kicking and stuff?”

“In a few more months, they’re only the size of a green olive. You’ll probably feel it around Christmas?” She guessed. “You’ll be 16 weeks around then.”

“Wow okay,” she was just astounded by the magic of growing a child, she felt like absolute shit but it all made sense at that moment. In just a week, muscles and limbs formed and her baby grew the ability to self-soothe in the womb. Growing 10 fingers and toes that they already knew how to put in their mouth.

She cleaned the gel off Y/N’s stomach and began exporting the files for her. “So, I will call you when the results are in, and I can just email you guys a copy and go over it with you on the phone when you’re free? I know your job is unpredictable?”

“That would be perfect, thank you. We’re working on an international case right now so for all I know I’ll be in Ireland next week,” She laughed.

“Of course, take care of yourself make sure you’re taking all the vitamins and having 8 cups of clear fluids a day, you have to stay hydrated.” Dr. Korrapati handed her the disk in a sleeve as well as her contact card.

“Yes ma’am, I can’t wait to hear from you,” she smiled before leaving the office.

—

Y/N walked back into the BAU around 1:15, wandering down the hall to Penelope’s office to get a rundown of what she missed.

Spencer and JJ had the same idea, all turning towards the door as Y/N walked in, “hey.”

“How was it?” Spencer asked softly, beckoning her to his lap.

She sat down on him softly, “I got a DVD copy of the ultrasound.” She waved the disk around. “But, we can’t watch it until I get a rundown on what we know so far.”

“I hate how professional you are sometimes,” Penelope huffed. “Luckily, it is very important.”

“We matched a tattoo on one of the feet to a missing person’s case in Nova Scotia. So we focused our efforts on missing person’s cases who fit the same features and backgrounds as her,” JJ explained.

“Okay cool, who was she?”

“Andrea Carlton, 18. She was hitchhiking, apparently wanting to run away to meet her boyfriend in Newfoundland. I traced her transactions before she disappeared and it looks like she bought a ferry ticket, however, there are no reports of her ever getting on it,” Penelope added. “So I’ve looked into other people from Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, New Brunswick and Newfoundland, who went missing hitchhiking or after booking a ferry ticket.”

“Smart, how many matches did we get?”

“5,” She laughed.

“You’re kidding?”

They all shook their heads, “nope. And we were able to match all the feet to them.”

Y/N handed the ultrasound video over to Penelope. “Your reward.”

She snatched it from her hands so fast, taking it out of the packaging and shoving it in her CD port. Loading the file within seconds.

She watched Spencer’s face the whole time. Already having seen the footage herself, knowing the real show would be his reaction.

He was so mesmerized, his eyes blown up in awe as tears welled. His grip on her leg was more intense, he was squeezing along to the beat of the baby’s heart, absentmindedly. He shook his head in disbelief, that was his baby in there.

The phone rang before they could really talk about it, Hotch requesting the team hop on a plane and meet them in Nova Scotia. The RCMP and the FBI have taken sole jurisdiction over the case.

Y/N was able to convince him that it would be best if they get some sleep before they go. He agreed, telling them he expected to see them in Canada at 10 am sharp.

“Before we go home tonight can you cross-reference freelance charter boats or fishermen in the area the day each victim missed a ferry? Someone desperate to get a ride might be willing to hop in a boat with anyone going where they are,” Y/N suggested to Garcia.

“I’ll run it in the background, you two go home and get some rest so my god-baby can get big and strong!” She hugged her lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/N and Spencer didn’t need to be told twice, practically running to their car. She let out the deepest sigh ever once she had her seatbelt on, so excited to go home.

Spencer drove them home, getting used to it as she got more pregnant. Soon she’d be too big to drive at all let alone stay awake the whole time.

“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked as they cleared the security check.

“Good, Dr. Korrapati is going to email us the results when they’re in and go over them with us on the phone. I told her we’d probably end up going out of the country soon,” Y/N recalled the day.

“The ultrasound was so cool,” he gushed.

“Yeah,” She smiled. Reaching to hold his hand on the centre console. “She also suggested we switch sides of the bed so that we can still cuddle while I’m on my left side.”

“She’s a genius.”

“that’s what I said!” She laughed, “literally how dumb are we?”

“187 till I become a dad and then I’m an idiot,” he smiled back at her quickly. “I’m glad you had a good day. Now we can go eat and get a full night’s rest.”

She let out another deep breath, “I can’t wait to cuddle.”

—

Garcia was waiting for them at the elevator the next morning. “Patrick Timmins.”

“Who?” Y/N asked, fully awake and ready to go, just confused by the ambush.

“I ran the perimeters that you asked for and I found a freelance fisherman slash charter service run by a guy named Patrick Timmins,” Garcia explained. “The townspeople call him Patty Tims, they think he’s fine and lovely according to his Yelp page but his criminal record tells a different story.”

“Really? I thought that was such a long shot!” Y/N was cheery from the extra sleep she got with Dr. Korrapati’s advice.

“The plane is ready when you guys are, I have all the updated info in this as well as some snacks for the plane,” she handed Spencer a cloth bag.

“What would I do without you? My pretty penny,” she kissed her friend on the cheek.

“If it means I get some sugar from you, I’ll do anything,” Garcia flirted with her in the absence of Morgan. “Go get on your plane, I will see you when you return my loves.”

They landed in Nova Scotia around 10 am like Hotch had requested. Bypassing customs and driving directly to the RCMP headquarters. They needed to come up with a plan, they had no idea how to find a man who travels by boat and lives at sea.

“We could always send undercover’s out in the areas he’s picked up before, have them dress as hitchhikers, miss the ferries and wait and see who tries to pick you up. Everyone will have a team watching and police boats on standby?” Morgan was theorizing as Spencer, Y/N and JJ walked in.

“We have report’s that he’s in the bay, if we’re going to do this we need to do it now,” An RCMP officer she hadn’t met yet announced to the room. “Who here is comfortable posing as a vic?”

JJ raised her hand, “get me some dirty clothes and I can be ready in 5.”

They raided the lost and found, they filled a backpack with random things and tried their best to dirty her fingernails and hair. She looked like she had been travelling without a proper place to stay for a while.

They managed to hide a wire on her, prepping what she was going to say if she was in danger and they needed to move in. Hiding a gun and a knife in her socks in case she needed them later.

They drove her down to the bay dropping her off 1 kilometre away, letting her walk into town while they parked closer to watch with binoculars. They planned it for her to arrive as the ferry pulled out of the bay.

She ran down the dock, trying to catch the ferry. Putting on the best performance of: “fuck, I missed the boat!” That they had ever seen.

“She’s going to win an Oscar,” Morgan whispered in the back of the surveillance van, trying to make Y/N laugh.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” They heard over the wire, trying to identify the source of the voice. The man was standing on his boat, hanging over the edge to get JJ’s attention.

“I missed the ferry, do you know when it’ll be back?” She played dumb. “I promised my mom I’d be back tonight and now I won’t be.”

“I can give you a ride, for a price,” the man suggested. “Names, Patty Tims.”

Hotch turned around from the front seat and motioned for Y/N and Morgan to head out quietly without making a scene. Listening in their headsets as JJ replied. “How much?”

They hid around the corner of the ticket booth, watching as the undercover officers walked around the civilians.

“Just a simple photo, I like to put a face to the stories I run across. Come on up,” he motioned for her to get on the boat.

She walked closer to him, “I don’t know sir, I should probably wait for the ferry.” She smiled.

“No,” he ground his teeth together and clenched his jaw, reaching for her.

She grabbed his arm and flipped him, getting into the boat and pushing him to the ground. She cuffed him by the time Morgan and Y/N could board. “What the fuck is this?” He struggled in her grasp.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of 6 people,” JJ replied, about to tell him his rights.

“Only 6?” He laughed.

JJ shoved him into the floor harder, reading him his rights before lifting him to his feet and shoving him off the boat and into RCMP custody.

Y/N lifted her hand up to high five JJ, pulling her into a half hug as they walked back to the surveillance van.

She never had a sister before, JJ was probably the only woman in her life that she felt this close to. It was mostly to do with the fact she’s always been so wonderful to Spencer. She helped him feel loved before Y/N, and that was important to her.

“Can we search the boat? Or are we still waiting on the warrant?” Y/N just wanted to check with Hotch before she barged onto the boat. Not wanting to jeopardize what they’re allowed to enter into evidence.

“We got it, you can start looking,” Hotch said, handing her a pair of gloves and a handful of evidence bags.

JJ went with her. They walked in together, noticing that he wasn’t lying about wanting a photo to go with the story. Below the deck, the entire wall was filled with Polaroids of terrified people moments before their deaths.

They bagged them all into evidence, dreading having to put them all into the system and match them to missing person’s reports. Delivering the news that someone’s loved one was gone for good was never fun.

Telling 58 families that their loved one was dead was a nightmare.

chapter 17

She’s a little confused when she wakes up to the sound of geese honking. Rolling away from Spencer’s embrace and immediately being blinded by the sunlight in the room. She sat up in a small panic.

She had forgotten that they stayed the night at the new house.

The large windows in the bedroom faced the water. She could see the sun’s reflection on the lake as it stretched over the house from the east. It was absolutely stunning. She could get used to waking up early with a screaming baby if this was the view.

Then she remembered it was the day they got their test results, she bounced a little as she reached for her phone to check her messages.

“Morning bunny,” Spencer’s groggy morning voice startled her a little.

“Bunny?” She questioned, never hearing him call her any form of nickname before.

He reached out of her, wrapping his arms around her growing belly, resting his head in her lap. “Have you ever noticed you hop a little bit when you get excited?”

“Yeah, it’s called Asperger’s,” she smiled as she ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s honestly better than bugs bunny though, just don’t throw carrots at me okay?” She laughed to herself as she recalled the childhood trauma.

It was a little funny, looking back now.

“Never, you’re my bunny. I love my bunny.”

He was so soft in the mornings. Snuggling in against her skin as he slowly woke up. He stretched and yawned a bit, making the cutest little sounds as he did so.

She kept her fingers in his hair, twirling the ends every once and a while. Mostly running her nails along his scalp, soothing that big beautiful brain of his that she loved so much.

“We find out what the sex is today,” she reminded him.

He lifted up her shirt to expose her belly. Kissing the skin as she laid back against the pillows.

“What’s going on in there today?” She asked softly.

“They’re the size of a prune,” he mused. “speaking of, as you enter the fetus stage this week you’re going to get constipated.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “thanks that’s exactly what I wanted to know!”

“Right now the fetal development is focusing primarily on the bones, tummy and teeth,” he explained with the largest smile on his face.

“There we go.”

He hovered over her, brushing the hair from her face so he could look at her, “You look so beautiful right now.”

He said that as if he wasn’t blocking the sun from her view, perfectly casting a halo glow around him. She placed her hand on his cheek, “I love you.”

He leaned in and kissed her, pressing his body softly against her’s. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses. Covering her face and neck with small pecks, making her laugh as he covered her body in kisses.

The phone rang on Spencer’s night table causing him to press his forehead against her hip, letting out a deep sigh. Y/N reached over and picked it up. “Doctor Spencer Reid’s phone,” she answered. “He can't come to the phone right now, can I take a message?”

“Funny,” Penelope replied.

“We have a case,” Morgan added.

“What time do we need to be on the plane by?” She asked.

“Uh, it’s 7:46 now, so you’ve got an hour, tops?” Penelope guessed, “why?”

“I said he was busy. I’ll see you later.” She hung up.

“You did not just do that?” He looked absolutely horrified, his whole face turning pink.

“They could either think you got some, or you could actually get some?” She teased. “We have an hour.”

—

“All 3 Vic’s had been strangled and raped before they were wrapped in plastic and released into the river,” Garcia explained to the team over the laptop as they travelled through the sky. “Washing away all of the unsub’s DNA, however, they did find carpet fragments under the victim’s finger-“

“Like the ’84 Oklahoma Child Murders,” Y/N cut her off.

“What?” Garcia asked.

“Oklahoma 1981 to 1984. Local black children between the age of approximately 6 and 17 were being abducted, raped and murdered. Their bodies were mostly discovered in wooded areas and along the edges of the river, never submerged. The BAU worked the case, only ever being able to solve the last 2 murders before the Oklahoma governor, I think, kicked you off the case, right? They cared more about the money going towards the investigation than the black children going missing,” She explained.

“Gideon and I tried,” Rossi said. Still very bothered by the ending. “We wanted to catch the guy, the last 2 murders were so different from the others and yet the local cops considered it the same guy. Much like this new unsub, he raped young men before strangling them and dropping them in the river. All the way down to the carpet fibres.”

“It ended up being a local man named Oscar Pope, they caught him dumping an older male victim at a police checkpoint. They matched carpet fibres at his house to the 2 rivers Vic’s, but none of the children,” Prentiss cut in. “This has to be a copycat right?”

“We don’t know that,” Y/N added. “The BAU was working the angle that a local boy who knew the majority of the victims was in on it. Um, Daryl Livingston, he was in foster care at the time. He was the 7th boy to go missing and then every one of his friends was found dead after that. However, his body was never found. They suspected that he formed a bond with his captor and offered to bring him, other boys, if he let him live.”

“Any chance that this unsub could be the same kid, using Pope’s tactic to get our attention back on him?” Morgan asked.

“I was about to say that too,” JJ cut in. “they might’ve even been a team back then as well. That would explain why the murders stopped when Pope was caught but they still never found that boy.”

“That’s possible. They concluded that the last victim Pope dropped into the river was a long-time, secret boyfriend of his who found out what he was doing to the children. His MO changed when he didn’t want people to tie the murders together,” Spencer provided the extra information. “Only backfiring when local cops patrolling the river heard a splash.”

“Garcia, can you see if any of the Vic’s have any relation, contact or even geographical coincidences with the original murders?” Rossi asked. “If this is a victim continuing Pope’s work we need to find out who knew him.”

“Sir, Oscar Pope is still alive in a local correctional facility,” Garcia added. “I’m going to run background checks on all contact he’s had in his entirety at the prison, it might take a while but I’ll get it.”

“Garcia, I can go to the facility and just read everything they have there. It might not be all digital yet,” Reid offered.

“Good idea, take Y/N with you. You two bounce ideas off each other better than the rest of us,” Hotch agreed. “Morgan and Rossi join the search teams at the rivers. JJ and Prentiss, we’ll set up communication with the locals and go through old case files.”

“Reid’s good at bouncing somethin’ off her, alright,” Morgan teased him. “You were on speaker this morning.”

Spencer turned bright red once again, burying his face into the table as everyone laughed, reaching across the aisle to give Y/N high fives.

—

Being in a prison was always weird for her.

Having to hand in her gun just to read papers in a dusty office made her uncomfortable. She understood the protocol and she knew the guards would keep them safe, but knowing she was near men she helped put away, that scared her slightly.

“I’m not finding anything,” Spencer sighed. “There was a flood 2 years ago that destroyed most of the files near the ground. Including the Pope documents.”

“We can always just go ask him?” Y/N suggested, “he’s in D cell, he’s behind bars. We can just talk to him from the hallway unofficially. Pretend we’re here for someone else. I’ll say I never thought he really did those murders and gain his trust, see what happens.”

“I don’t like it but, I think we have to,” he agreed. Opening the office door for her to lead the way, “after you.”

Spencer felt very protective, she could tell. He was never pushy or controlling with her, but for some reason, he was now manhandling her. Making sure she walked on the inside of the hallways, closer to the brick walls so that no one could get her through the bars.

“So Doctor Reid,” she picked up the conversation as they hit the D block. “I was reading the book you lent me about engineering.”

“Oh,” he tried to play along. “How did you like it?”

“It was good,” she replied while trying to look at each inmate she passed. “I loved page 187— oh my gosh?” She stopped at Pope’s cell.

“You’re Oscar Pope?” She pointed at him.

“and you’re?” The old man questioned her. “A fed?”

“We’re here for something political, nothing to concern yourself with,” she lied, getting closer to the bars, whispering. “I just want you to know I never thought you did all 16 of the child murders back in the day.”

“Thank you,” he was suddenly enthusiastic. “Now why can’t all the fed’s be as smart as you?”

She laughed, tapping his arm through the bars. “How are you doing? Is there anything I can get you while I’m here?”

“Phone privileges!” He answered quickly, “the mail’s taking forever and I’ve got people to talk to before I croak in here.”

“I’m sure you do sir,” she smiled at him. “I’ll pull some strings, you have a good day!”

“You too, beautiful!”

Spencer placed his hand on her hip and led her away from the bars, she waved as they walked away.

“Agent Y/L/N,” a voice stopped her at the end of the hall.

She turned to see a man sitting cross-legged on the cell floor. His orange jumpsuit gathered around his waist as he sat in an undershirt. She glanced over his body, stopping at his face. She’d know those eyes anywhere.

“Didn’t I say only good boys get to talk to me, Bitch?” She snapped at him.

“Congratulations on the little one.” He replied. Laughing as Spencer placed his hand over her small stomach and led her out of the room, through the big metal doors.

“Keep walking with me,” Spencer insisted. “Or I will turn around and I will kill him.”

She huffed and continued down a narrow hallway with him. “We need to call Hotch.”

“Yeah,” he flipped his phone open and hit the speed dial.

“Reid?” She heard Hotch answer.

“We couldn’t get any of his information from forms, they all had water damage so Y/N and I walked past Pope’s cell and struck up a conversation,” He explained.

“And?”

“She got on his good side, pretending that she could get him a favour while she’s here for political reasons. He said he’s desperate to make a phone call today.”

“I’m on my way, get Garcia to prep paperwork to allow us a meeting with him now,” Hotch instructed, hanging up.

Y/N dialled Garcia on her phone. “How’s it going love birds?”

“Not good,” she replied. “We need you to get the paperwork going to allow us to sit down with Oscar Pope today. And we’re going to need to tear through his cell.”

“Oh, damn okay,” She replied. “Ask him about Cody Kollins.”

“Who?” Spencer asked as his phone rang again. He flipped it open, “we’ve got Garcia here too.” Putting it on speaker.

“Morgan and Rossi just intercepted a man dropping a body in the river,” Hotch confirmed. “I need you to rush that paperwork.”

“Sir, what was the man’s name?” Garcia asked.

“Cody Kollins.”

They sighed at each other, “let’s do this.”

—

Y/N watched him through the mirror. She could see him fidgeting. He was frustrated. He was exhibiting the exact same behaviour as he was when he was caught the first time.

“Every time we one-up him, he breaks down,” she whispered to Spencer. “Even in his interrogation tapes, he was like this. When they found the single patch of carpet left in his closet and were able to match the fibres, he lost it. He likes to play it cool and under control, he wrote the story and he wants us to stick to it.”

“How upset do you think he’d be if we went in there and told him we actually caught the original killer and he’s going to be released pending DNA testing?” Spencer suggested.

She tilted her head, biting her lip as she thought. “I think he’d be violent.”

“Sit here,” he said as he walked into the interview room.

She hated having to just watch. It helped that Pope was cuffed to the table, and the table was drilled into the concrete floor, Spencer wouldn’t get hurt. The guards are right behind the door. It’s fine.

“Sorry for the abrupt interrogation, I promise this isn’t what you think,” Spencer smiled softly. “We have reason to believe that the original killer has returned, the state is running the DNA now.”

Y/N watched as Pope’s right eye started to twitch, his finger on his leg was tapping at an odd rhythm as Spencer talked.

“The second we can prove you had no hand in any of the killing’s we’ll issue a pardon and your discharge papers will be filled out,” Spencer finished his sentence and moved to open the door once more.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he hissed. His voice was completely different than it was when they were speaking in D block.

“Why?” Spencer asked, easily playing the innocent and stupid role.

“You think some crazy-obsessed, fuck toy of mine whose doing half-assed attempts at my signature, is the real killer!!!” Pope spat his confession out. Literally covering the table in spit as he became more feral. Shaking violently.

Spencer walked right out of the room. Y/N watched as Pope smacked the table, tugging violently at the cuffs, scratching himself all up. The guards had to run in and hold him down, shooting a sedative into his neck.

“Jesus,” she whispered. Taking her phone out of her pocket to call Garcia, when she noticed the voicemail notification in the bottom corner. She ignored it, calling her friend instead.

“Hey,” Penelope answered quickly. “So turns out we were right, who would have thought, Cody Kollins is actually Daryl Livingston.”

“We just got a confession from Pope,” Y/N shared her news. “They had to sedate him so we’re going to come back to the station. Wait until tomorrow to interview him again.”

“Yeah, sounds good, Hotch and Morgan are in with Livingston right now,” she updated them. “Make sure to eat something when you get there.”

“Yes mom,” she teased, hanging up and smiling.

Spencer put his hand out in an invitation to hold it. She interlocked their fingers and followed him back to the filing room, gathering their things before exiting the prison.

She sat on the passenger side of the SUV, she and Spencer just sat there and took a few deep breaths. Processing everything the exact same way, quietly and on their own.

She cut the awkward silencer by taking out her phone and playing the voicemail. Putting it on speaker.

“Hi Y/N, this is Doctor Korrapati calling. I’ve emailed you your results. The gender is at the bottom, under the little read more button, in case you wanted it to be a surprise. Call the office and let us know when you’re free to go over the results and we’ll book you in, as far as I can tell everything looks good, so don’t feel the need to rush. Take care!”

Spencer looked over at her with a soft smile on his face, reaching out for her hand once more. Holding her hand with both of his now, “do you want to do this?”

“I’m ready if you are?”

He nodded, watching her contently as she opened her email up, finding the right one and scrolling to the bottom. Her heart fluttered a little as she looked at the read more option.

She took a deep breath and clicked on it.

Chromosomal sex: XY

“Well?” Spencer asked softly.

“I’d really love to tell you,” she bit her lip trying not to laugh, “but I don’t remember what this means?”

He laughed, shaking his head as he looked at the screen. He blinked with glossy eyes as he read it, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he cried softly.

It had to be a girl, she knew he wanted one. She convinced herself in that millisecond that it was a girl.

He reached over and placed his hand flat against her belly. “Hi Matthew,” he said softly.

“You’re kidding?” She couldn’t stop herself from crying.

Spencer wrapped her up in a hug, the two of them happily crying into each other. She wasn’t sure if she was giggling or sobbing, she just knew she was shaking in Spencer’s arms with happiness that this was her little family.

He kissed all over her one cheek as he held her close. “I love you so much,” he reminded her.

She pulled back, wiping her tears off on her shirt sleeve, laughing at the serendipity of it all. “I love you too, dad.”

“I have to drive, don’t make me cry again,” he laughed, wiping his own tears before tucking his ever-growing hair behind his ears.

“Let’s go.”

—

Y/N sat beside JJ in the break room of the police station, salad bowl in her lap, shovelling the dressing-covered leaves in her mouth.

They weren’t tasked with anything until Hotch and Morgan attempted to get some info out of the unsub. “Were you crying earlier?” She asked.

“A little,” Y/N smiled at her. “We’re having a boy,” she whispered.

“Oh my god!” JJ whispered back at her, reaching out for her arm and shaking her a little. “I have a feeling your little guy will be bigger than Henry was so he’ll fit into all Henry’s summer stuff when he’s born!”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah!” She confirmed. “By the time he grows out of everything I might have a second boy and we can rotate it around again,” she laughed. “This is going to be so fun.”

“Matthew and Henry are going to be best friends,” Y/N smiled.

“Matthew,” she repeated. “That’s a nice name, I like it.”

“My brother’s name is Levi, I thought it was a nice way to keep a family name in my baby’s life, and his middle name is going to be Gideon,” she spoiled it for Spencer.

JJ looked a little emotional, “sorry it’s just so surreal thinking about me and Spencer having kids who are friends.”

Y/N moved her dinner out of the way and hugged her then, holding her tightly. “You better not be pregnant too,” she whispered in her ear. Not wanting to give it away if she was.

JJ just laughed, rocking Y/N back and forth in her embrace, not answering. “Right?” Y/N asked again.

“We’re trying, so who knows,” JJ replied.

“Shut up?” Y/N pulled back and stared into her eyes to see if she was telling the truth or not. “Holy shit? Since when?”

“Honestly, I think the night we celebrated Canadian thanksgiving,” she laughed. “You and Spencer got us talking about babies, and you got Henry to sleep through the night, so this is technically your fault.”

“JJ,” Y/N started to cry, “I’m so happy for you.”

“They’ll only be a few months apart, so they’ll be best friends too,” JJ smiled. “This is going to be really fun.”

chapter 18

For Christmas this year, Y/N just wanted to be fully moved into their new home before they had to leave for Vegas. Spencer followed through with the present. Inviting the entire team over for drinks if they promised to stop by Y/N’s apartment and bring a few boxes to the new house. It was basically just free labour.

She spent the night nesting while her friends drank in her kitchen. They understood why she was nervous, she was going to tell her parents about the baby and the engagement, and the house, in 3 days.

It was all going to be a lot.

She was 16 weeks along as of Christmas Eve. Waking up the morning of their flight to a weird twitching sensation in her gut, like butterflies or a muscle twitch but right where the baby would be.

“Spence,” she shook him awake. “Spencer.”

“What’s wrong?” He sat right up, squinting at her as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“It’s like, I don’t know how to explain it?” She worried.

Spencer placed his hand on her belly feeling the slight flitter. “He’s kicking.”

Spencer’s early morning smile was the best, he tackled her back against the pillow and dug his face into the crook of her neck. “That’s my baby in there.”

“I wouldn’t have known,” she laughed, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “We have to go to the airport soon.”

“I know,” he mumbled into her neck.

“If you get up now, we can go get breakfast before we have to board?” She enticed him, “we can get sprinkle donuts for the flight.”

“Okay,” he said as she freed him from her grip. “Are you nervous?”

“I know they’ll be happy, just not ready for them to ask why I didn’t say anything sooner,” She explained. “I’ve been really distant since I got the job, I’m really excited to spend time with them this weekend.”

“Same,” Spencer smiled. “Come on you two.”

They took a 9 am flight one-way to Las Vegas. Y/N slept most of the ride, spending the last 45 minutes just snuggled into Spencer’s shoulder as he watched a documentary on some form of science or math. She couldn’t hear what it was about, all she saw was a man writing out numbers on a chalkboard.

She ran her hand over her belly lightly. There was no way she could walk into her mother’s house in a few minutes and just pretend it wasn’t there. It was there. So were the 5 pounds of baby weight on her hips and the swelling in her face and knuckles.

She was pretty quiet during landing and baggage claim. Thinking in her head what she was going to say to everyone, how she would explain it. She sat in a cab beside Spencer, absentmindedly following him through the airport they’ve both been through at least 20 times.

It was a short trip to her parent’s house. Spencer traced little shapes into her leg with his finger to distract her. A flower, a 4D cube, the words I love you. It was sweet, non verbal comfort was very important to her.

When they arrived, she stayed in the cab to pay while Spencer got their bags out. Taking as long as possible so she could avoid it a little longer.

Biting the bullet, she took a deep breath and walked out into her parent’s front yard. Taking the handle of her suitcase and dragging it up the walkway.

She walked right into her house, her parents and brothers all standing up from the living room and rushing into the entryway. She was wrapped up in 7 hugs within a matter of seconds.

“You look so different,” her mom said as she pulled back from her hug. Holding her arms as she examined her, “what did you do?”

“I got pregnant,” she replied, scrunching her face as she waited for their response.

She could’ve sworn she went deaf at that moment, reaching down to cover her bump as everyone cheered and jumped around her. She was pulled into a group hug before she could process anything. Laughing awkwardly at the whole experience.

“Be quiet, he can hear this week!” She laughed.

“He?” Her father inquired.

She looked back at Spencer, smiling at him. “It’s a boy,” Spencer confirmed.

“Holy shit!” Her brothers cheered, high-fiving each other. “When are you due?” Harrison asked.

“June,” she smiled. “3 days after mom’s birthday, see I do remember it.”

“Come sit,” her mom insisted, pushing everyone out of the way and dragging her to the couch. “Put your feet up, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N insisted. “You’re almost worse than my co-workers.”

“Are they taking good care of you?” Her father asked.

She waited for Spencer to join her on the couch, they had all been so excited about her they forgot he was there. “Yeah. Um, we have a lot to tell you,” She explained, holding Spencer’s hand for comfort.

“I asked Y/N to marry me,” Spencer announced. “I am so in love with her, this baby is a dream come true and I’m very excited to become a part of your family.”

Her mom cried, tossing her hand over her eyes as she sobbed. “Mom,” she was so overwhelmed with everything she started to cry too.

“You’re a wonderful man Spencer,” her father interjected. “It’s an honour to have you.”

Spencer smiled and nodded towards him, silently thanking him for the approval.

“So, it’s kind of insane how it all happened. It wasn’t intended, but we love him so much already,” Y/N glowed as she spoke. “Are we going to tell people the name yet?”

Spencer nodded, “we can.” He smiled down at her with such wonderment, the moment she had been scared of for 16 weeks turning out to be the best time she’s had with her whole family in one room.

“His name is Matthew Gideon Reid,” Y/N smiled. “After my favourite brother, no offence Harry, and Spencer’s mentor.”

Levi was her more emotional brother. He was her best friend growing up. The 5 year age difference gave them the time to grow up separately but still find common interests to bring them together. They were the closest in the family before she moved to Virginia full time it became hard to keep up with him as much.

Now they were both parents, their kids only having a 3 year age difference. Meaning next year there would be 2 little ones at Christmas.

“That’s a lovely name,” Levi smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s whatever, don’t expect our kids to have your name either,” Harrison replied as he held his wife close, pretending he was a little offended.

“We also got a house,” she added to change the topic, “Jason Gideon, he kinda gave us his place in Virginia.”

“You’re kidding me?” Debbie gasped. “For free?”

She laughed, “it’s complicated.”

“I grew up without a father, and Gideon neglected his son for his work at the BAU,” Spencer chimed in. “We bonded, and he wanted his house to be used for good. He specifically asked for us to fill it with love and laughter. We’ve just finished moving into it. You can visit any time!” He panicked and rambled by the end.

“I don’t know if you know this,” her mom tried to joke with them. “But there’s this thing called a phone, where you can call your mother and tell her these things.”

“I wanted to!” she hurried the words out. “But I’m still working in the field, I was weary with who really knew besides the team. It’s my only weakness on the job.”

“I get it,” Debbie smiled. “Honestly, I’m so happy for you both.”

“Thanks, mom,” Y/N choked back tears. “Sorry,” she laughed. “Pregnant things, y’know.”

—

Visiting hours at the nursing home changed during the holidays. Spencer and Y/N were permitted to enter anytime between 8 am and 10 pm, giving them lots of time to spend the afternoon with Y/N’s parents before visiting her.

They borrowed her dad’s truck, driving to the nursing home with a special gift for Diana. Spencer had spent the last 2 weeks making a scrapbook page about Matthew for her, he knew how much her book meant to her and he wanted to add to it.

Her mom’s co-workers all stared at them as they walked in hand in hand. Her bump on show under the T-Shirt she chose to wear.

Diana was in her room, then walked down the long hallway to her suite. Knocking lightly on the door, waiting for her to greet them.

The door swung open, “Spencer!” She cheered. Hugging him tight in her arms.

“Hi mom,” he held her just as tight. Knowing he was a mama’s boy always made Y/N’s heart flutter.

She pulled back and looked at Y/N, “you look so nice!”

“Thank you,” she smiled. Stepping in close to give her a hug as well.

Diana welcomed them into her room, closing the door behind them. Y/N took a seat on the couch while Spencer looked around at the new things she had on display.

“I made you something,” he said softly, taking off his bag and pulling the pressed cardboard out of the protective sleeve. “here.”

She held it in her hands, looking at the ultrasound photo they got a few weeks ago at the anatomy scan. “What is this Spencer?”

“You’re going to be a grandmother,” he explained. Watching her run her fingers over the words on the paper. She was in shock, she had nothing to say. She just looked at the photo.

She quietly walked over to Y/N and sat beside her, “may I?” She asked, holding her hand up.

Y/N leaned back a little, “absolutely.”

Diana placed her hand on the bump lightly. “I was so worried I wouldn’t get to really experience this one day,” she whispered. Trying her best not to cry. “Thank you.”

Y/N cried, not realizing how special this must be for them. She was so focused on her family that she forgot that this was going to change Diana’s whole world. She now had 2 boys to love unconditionally.

“His name is Matthew?” Diana asked, running her hand over the bump softly.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiled. “He’s due in June. If you can, you can fly out and stay with us for a little?”

“I’d love to,” Diana replied. “I have enough points for a trip, and I’ve been feeling really good on my medication.”

“If your doctors clear it all, Debbie and you can fly in together,” Spencer confirmed.

“Wow,” Diana smiled like Spencer. Wide thin lips, straight white teeth, big rosy cheeks and glistening eyes. She hoped Matthew inherited it too. “This is my best Christmas yet.”

—

Y/N woke up Christmas morning with Spencer cuddled into her side in her childhood bedroom. She slipped out of his grasp and sat in her windowsill instead.

She pulled her knees to her chest as best as she could now that she was pregnant, looking at the lone swing across the street that swayed in the December morning breeze.

It should be 8 am back at Quantico, her parents must have let them sleep in while they opened presents. She could see Chloe in the front yard trying out her new car. Levi smiled as he pushed her down the road, Lizzie filming the whole thing on her phone.

Her whole life was so different from the last time she really sat on the windowsill in her bedroom. Back then she was about to move to Virginia, graduating college in Nevada and getting into the training program at the academy. Harrison was already there at Fort Meade, she was about to move into his house with his wife for the first semester before settling into DC. Levi and Lizzie had just started dating, Chloe wasn’t even conceived yet. And she had no idea when she’d run into Spencer.

She rubbed her hand over her belly as a tear rolled down her cheek. She couldn’t wait for the day that she was pushing her own child on that swing across the street. The day she and Spencer tell him about the love story that bubbled between two kids with books who looked at each other for years before they fell in love.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, removing her from the moment she allowed herself to have.

She wiped the tear from her cheek, “they’re happy tears. Go back to sleep.”

“Come cuddle?” He pouted, his big puppy dog eyes drawing her back to the bed.

She snuggled into him, running her fingers against his bare chest as she watched him breathe. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” he kissed the top of her head.

“When I was 17, I had my appendix out.” She rolled over and laid back, showing him the 3-inch scar on the right side of her stomach. “It was pretty bad, they said I would have died if my mom waited 15 more minutes to get me to the hospital. They had to fix parts of my stomach and intestines that were eaten by the ruptured appendix bile.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered, running his finger along the scar. “I always thought that was just a scratch.”

She shook her head lightly. “It was December 5th, ’98. They uh,” she took a deep breath before resuming. “They put me on a drug called Dilaudid, they told my mom it was a non-addictive version of morphine and that I’d be fine but, I kinda got addicted to the pill version when they let me out,” she scrunched her face as she told him. Not wanting his opinion of her to change.

“You’re kidding?” He asked, a chuckle fell past his lips as he sat up. “In my second year at the BAU I was kidnapped by a man with dissociative identity disorder and he drugged me.”

“Dilaudid?” She asked, sitting up too and shaking her head in disbelief.

He laughed at how absurd it was, “yeah.”

“I moved to Benadryl for the sleepy and calm effect after I couldn’t get any more refills and didn’t want to admit I had a problem, and weed in college” she added. “but I haven’t even taken a Tylenol in the last 5 years now.”

“I had a small problem with it after everything, but I’m also clean now,” Spencer smiled at her. “Why did you want me to know?”

“Because I don’t want to take any drugs when I deliver the baby, even if I beg for them I don’t want them to give in. I talked to Dr. Korrapati about it but I wanted you to know too,” she explained. “Being in here all night got me thinking about a lot.”

He wrapped his arms around her and tackled her back against the pillows. “I love you,” was all he said.

“I love you too?”

“Seriously,” his voice was so soft and low. “I’ll never stop.”

chapter 19

She woke up to the feeling of hair tickling her face. She swatted at her face to try and get it to stop before opening her eyes. She blinked into the early morning sunlight, only to Spencer looking down at her, his hair long enough to tickle her skin.

“You were snoring,” he whispers down to her. “Also, Happy Birthday.”

She smiled, pulling him down and into a hug. “Thank you.”

Every morning with Spencer for the last 10 months had been special. Something about the warmth of his body against hers, and the sunlight bouncing around their new bedroom made this morning her favourite.

It was so calm on the water. She could see the snow settling on the ice as the sun made it glisten like diamonds. The birds had all but disappeared for the winter, the stillness in the world was lovely. It was like time stopped with Spencer laying in her arms.

“What do you think Penelope has planned at work today?” She asked him softly, playing with his incredibly long hair. It was almost longer than hers now.

“She told me to bring you in after 8.”

“So does that mean you have to distract me for a little while, Doctor Reid?” She teased him.

He pushed himself up, leaning on his arm as he hovered over her. “Any requests?”

She spread her arms and legs out like a starfish. “Have at ‘er,” she couldn’t stop herself from laughing as Spencer just shook his head.

He dipped down to her belly, blowing a raspberry onto her protruding bump. “Good morning to you too little dude,” he whispered against her skin. “Go back to sleep.”

She shoved him lightly, not able to stop herself from smiling, “he is asleep, leave him alone.”

It was the best morning ever.

Every time she thinks that she’s reached peak happiness she discovers another level. It felt like every time he touched her, she wanted to describe it as the best she’s ever felt.

When they finally got dressed and made their way downstairs for the morning, she found it incredibly odd that he wasn’t asking her what she wanted for breakfast, like he did every morning. Very concerned that she had all her meals and then some.

She fed the cat, picking him up and giving him a little snuggle after he finished his breakfast. “You are getting so big and chunky buddy, I might have to change your food timer.”

He meowed at her, sounding really pissed, making her laugh. “Fine but when you can't climb all the stairs in this house it’s your fault.” She placed him back on the ground and watched him wander into the sunlight. Plopping onto the hardwood and stretching out. Just living the life.

“Ready to go?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah, are we stopping for breakfast?” She asked, the second trimester making her hungrier than ever before.

“Penelope has it covered,” He said, placing his hand on her back as he leads her to the foyer.

“Oh this’ll be good,” she smiled, putting her shoes on before arming the alarm and heading outside.

Spencer locked their beautiful green front door, it was colder out than they had expected. He held her hand as she shivered slightly, they walked down the 3 steps together, Spencer not wanting her to fall if it happened to be icy.

Seat heaters were a blessing from god. The car was freezing when they first got in, the heater barely kicked in by the time they reached Quantico. Living 10 minutes away now was really nice.

Up the elevator they went, she was basically bouncing with excitement. “See?” Spencer nudged her with his shoulder. “Bunny.”

“Shut up,” she smiled as the door dinged before opening.

They walked into the bullpen to find it empty. She took off her coat and placed her bag on her desk before slowly walking up the small set of stairs and heading towards the briefing room.

All her co-workers were sitting around the table waiting for her and the boy wonder to arrive. Strawberry cheesecake danishes sat on a tray on the table, a strawberry milkshake in front of Y/N‘s regular spot.

“Happy Birthday!” They cheered as she walked in.

“You guys!?” She was so flattered. Never in her life has she been thrown a party by someone who wasn’t her mother. “Thank you.”

“Sit, sit,” Penelope insisted. Placing a danish on a napkin and putting it on her spot on the table. “I know you can’t have ice coffee right now, I thought a milkshake was the next best thing.”

“I seriously love you, come here,” she pulled Penelope into a hug, kissing her right on the mouth as everyone cheered.

“See that?” Penelope blushed. “Kisses are how I should be thanked around here.”

“HR already hates us,” Hotch made everyone laugh, “don’t push it.”

They all ate breakfast together, sharing stories from their weekend. They decided to spend New Years’ apart, everyone taking time to themselves for the first time ever.

“Where did you go, Prentiss?” Morgan inquired.

“Sin to Win weekend in Atlantic City,” she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

“Oh my god?” Y/N looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“What’s that?” Morgan and Spencer asked at the same time.

“Nothing.” Emily and Y/N replied in unison. Making a look at each other that screamed: ‘tell anyone and I’ll hurt you.’

Like a saviour, the fax machine in the briefing room turned on, spitting out 15 sheets of paper in a few minutes. Penelope cleaned off the table while Hotch ran everything over.

“Last night a family in Boston had their home burned down with them inside it,” Hotch explained.

“How is that something for us to look into?” Rossi asked.

“Because the unsub broke in and turned the water off and tampered with the gas system, causing CO2 to render them unconscious. He stabbed the father to death in the bed before laying gasoline all over the floors and lighting the house on fire.”

“Damn,” Y/N whispered under her breath. “That is personal.”

“I’d say,” Hotch agreed.

“Who was the family?” JJ asked.

Garcia looked through the sheets of paper spewed across the table. “Thomas Greenway, 61. His wife Alison 43. And 2 children aged 8 and 12.”

“We need to head to Boston,” Hotch announced. “I’ll call about prepping the plane. Y/N you can stay here with Garcia if you’d like, your insight will aid her search greatly.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind,” she smiled at Garcia. “Good luck out there.”

“Wheels up in 30.”

Everyone sighed before standing up. Spencer leaned in and kissed Y/N softly before standing up. “I’ll see you later.”

“Come home to me safely Doctor Reid.”

He smiled down at her, fixing his shirt before he left with Morgan.

“I hate to see him go, but I love watching him leave,” She said softly towards Penelope, making her laugh in the process.

“Come on mama, let’s go to my office,” Garcia said, putting her arm out for Y/N, the two of them skipping down the hallway with their arms linked as the team filled the elevator.

Y/N sat in Garcia’s office and immediately put her feet up, still drinking her milkshake as she flipped through the case files. “Can I suggest possibly the dumbest thing ever?”

She laughed, “shoot.”

“So, homeboy here breaks in and knocks out a family with co2 poisoning, just to stab the father to death and light the house on fire.” She ran it down once more, “What if we just search mothers stabbed before dying in a fire and just see if this is some traumatized kid, at this point that’s what they all end up being.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Garcia said, typing away as she added the parameters. “It’s like you can see the fucking future?”

Y/N threw her head back in a laugh, “did you get something? Seriously?”

“Adele Hollis was found dead in a burning apartment building in Boston in 1978. ME reports say she was already dead from co2 poisoning before she was stabbed 6 times in the chest. The whole apartment complex went up in flames after the unsub doused the bed in gasoline and lit her up.”

“Well fuck,” Y/N replied. “Does she have children?”

“Yes, her son Cameron was at school when it happened. He was 8, he moved in with his step-dad shortly after, they ruled him out and never found the guy,” Garcia added.

Y/N leaned across the desk and dialled Hotch, the plane hadn’t even left yet. “I think I found the unsub?”

“How?” Hotch asked.

“I jokingly asked Garcia to search and see if there are any men whose mothers died in a fire after being stabbed cause we deal with sooo many traumatized kids, and we found one,” she laughed at just how insane it sounded.

“Video in and give us a rundown.” Hotch hung up. Ever the conversationalist.

Garcia and Y/N squeezed into the same frame seeing everyone gathered in the little plane seats. She gave them the basic rundown of her findings, watching them all shake their heads at the fact she solved the case already.

“Have the local PD issue a warrant and bring him in. Can you check and see if he knows the victims?” Hotch asked.

“On it sir,” she smiled, clicking away.

“How did you do that so fast?” Morgan has to ask, “it’s not human.”

She laughed again, “If I’ve learned anything in the last 10 months it’s that traumatized little boys can fuck up a lot of people’s lives.”

“Preach,” Rossi added.

“Um, guys,” Garcia’s tone changed. “Cameron Hollis’s birth father is the father who was stabbed in this case.”

“You’re shitting me?” Y/N couldn’t believe it. “Do they have any kind of relationship?”

“His father is on the birth certificate but it looks like Adele left him when Cameron was 3, after some domestic disputes that had the cops at their door. She was remarried when he was 6, it doesn’t look like they ever really talked,” Garcia explained while continuing to dig.

Y/N watched through the monitor as the team gripped their seats, the plane was taking off now. They would be in Boston with this guy in just a few hours.

“Thanks, Lady Wonder,” Morgan winked at the camera for Y/N before leaning in and turning the monitor off.

She sat back and put her feet up once more. “Best birthday ever.”

—

They had Cameron Hollis in custody with a full confession before 5 pm that day. Everyone was beyond thankful that they would be back home with their families shortly.

Y/N had said goodbye to Penelope shortly after, driving home to have some alone time. Rossi would drive Spencer home, they lived close enough now that they could all carpool if they wanted.

She had never been in their new house all alone before. She took the time to just walk around and admire everything, being thankful that her life ended up like this. Not taking a second of it for granted.

She sat down on her bed finally, taking her phone out and calling JJ.

“Hello bestie,” she answered.

Y/N smiled, “Hey, do you think Will could find a babysitter tonight?”

“Probably, why?”

“Tell him to drop Henry off and head to my place. I’m going to have pizza delivered and you can come here with Spencer when you land,” Y/N offered. “Have a date night with us.”

“That would be amazing, I’ll call Will right now. See you later,” JJ sounded happy. It made her smile.

“See you.” She hung up, laying back against her bed softly.

She changed quickly before heading downstairs, wearing a pair of leggings and an academy t-shirt. She was getting too big for almost everything she owned now.

She placed an order for a few pizzas to arrive at 8:30. Next, making sure she had more beer in the fridge, for the nights when Will wandered over with JJ. They had visited almost every weekend since she and Spencer moved in.

That’s when she saw him.

chapter 20

Previously...

The dream was always the same:

A man would get into their home, he knew their schedule, he knew when she’d be alone.

He’d get in without any trouble and he never made a sound. She wouldn’t even know he was in the room until she felt the cold metal gun press against her face, as shaking hands instructed her to tie her own behind her back.

He’d always use her supplies. Duck tape, shoelaces, scarves. Anything at his disposal that he didn’t have to bring with him. Almost as if he didn’t fully choose her to be his victim until the very last minute.

He assaulted her all for what felt like hours, stopping occasionally to cry in the bathroom or eat a snack in their kitchen. And he always showered at the end. Sometimes, he’d wrap her up in a housecoat, put her sheets in the wash and sincerely advised her to invest in a better lock for the sliding door.

Then he was gone.

Slipping into the night, on his way to become someone else’s nightmare...

There was a man in her yard, he was dressed in all black, with a backpack wrapped around his shoulders and a ski mask on his face.

He couldn’t see her from where she was in the kitchen, but she could see him. She ducked to the floor and crawled towards the stairs, booking it up the steps and grabbing her gun. She made sure it was loaded, grabbing a second clip from her nightstand and tucking it into her pocket. Then she detonated the alarm system from the remote on Spencer’s bedside table.

She crawled into her closet, making herself look like a pile of clothes.

And she waited.

She felt a little insane, she tried to convince herself that it could be anyone from a neighbour to a lost person from the trail. For all she knew, it was someone from the academy lost in the woods.

She tried to calm her breathing, calling Will with her cell phone. “Hey, JJ just filled me in-“

“There is someone in my backyard in all black with a backpack, how fast can you get here?” She panicked in a whisper.

“Fuck, okay, I just dropped Henry off at the sitter. I’ll be right over, stay put and I will call you when I’m there,” his southern accent came out more when he was stressed.

“Okay, thank you,” she hung up and took a deep breath.

She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds in her house.

She remembered what the house sounded like that morning. The stillness, the quiet peacefulness of her and Spencer in the bed only 12 feet away from where she was now hiding.

She remembered the way the floors creaked as it popped and settled with the heat, how the tree outside would sometimes tap the window, the sound of snow tumbling off their roof. Passing cars on the main road kicking up gravel, the odd bird singing in the cold breeze, her own heartbeat in her ears.

Then she heard the alarm turn off with its overly happy welcome home chime. Only knowing one man would be able to disarm her alarm system without a code, and he was in the air right now.

“Open,” she heard the alarm’s voice as the door opened.

Footsteps travelled along the hardwood floor in wet shoes. She listened to the sound of the wet rubber on hardwood explore the first floor.

There were 2 people in her house, splitting up as one went to the kitchen and one went up the stairs.

She aimed her gun at the doorway, aiming to shoot anyone who walked through the door in the leg. Not wanting to kill anyone who she knew that might’ve gotten in for a different reason, unannounced.

In the rare happenstance that this wasn’t her worst nightmare coming true.

Her hands were shaking as she kept the gun pointed for what felt like hours, just waiting for him to find her. The door handle started to turn slowly, she heard the sound of the old metal grinding ever so slowly.

The first thing she saw were his eyes, yet again. The same eyes that haunted her dreams, the eyes every woman she spoke to for 2 years remembered from behind the ski mask.

Fuck Wichita, he was her own personal nightmare. He had been for a while. Those eyes, big and black all the way around, not a single glimpse of colour or life or hope. Every single dream came flooding back as she saw him in her doorway, the same aura of death, destruction, loneliness and despair from all those months ago was now filling the most special place in her home.

He still hadn’t seen her in the closet, looking around the room carefully as she watched him. Waiting for him to get closer, and closer to where she was. Finally peeling back the wooden closet door.

“Surprise, bitch,” She said before aiming higher and shooting him between the eyes, knocking him down.

She stood and stepped out of the closet, “Travis fucking Johnson,” she shook her head as she looked at the man bleeding on her bedroom floor. Taking his pulse to ensure that he was dead.

She couldn’t hear anything for a second, trying her best to zone in on the sound of someone tiptoeing in her kitchen, “WHO ELSE IS IN MY HOUSE?” She screamed.

Suddenly she could hear the sound of a car on the gravel and then a door slamming. She stepped into the hallway, gun pointed, looking over the railing towards the front door.

“Y/N?!” Will yelled. Gun pointed as he entered her house.

“I’ve got one down, I think there’s another in the kitchen,” she replied.

“On it.”

Y/N looked down the hall, none of the upstairs rooms were open, every door exactly how it looked when she ran up the stairs. She headed down the steps when 2 shots were fired.

She quickly ran to the kitchen to see another man on her floor behind the counter, his feet the only thing she could see as he laid there, dead. Will was standing over him, taking his pulse.

“He’s gone,” Will confirmed.

Y/N finally let herself panic, shaking as she tried to catch her breath, pulling out a chair from the counter and sitting down. Her adrenalin was running wild in her bloodstream, she didn’t even know how to speak let alone think about what had just happened.

“Y/N,” Will’s soft voice brought her back to reality. He was right beside her, wrapping his big strong arms around her to try and calm her down. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“Who was it?” Is all she asks him.

“I have no idea, who was upstairs?” Will asked.

“Travis Johnson, from my first case with the BAU,” she calmed down a bit, breaking away from the hug to get off the chair.

She walked around the counter island, looking down to find another man she knew, bleeding on her brand new hardwood floors. “Oh my god,” she felt sick at the sight.

He smelled the same, stale and rotten. The same look on his face even as he slipped into eternal damnation. Empty as when he was alive, pure evil down to his core. Dead to match how he felt inside as he did those awful things to undeserving mothers.

The second worst man she’s ever come in contact with.

The Winnemucca Womb Raider.

She backed up into Will, he held her close so she didn’t drop to the floor, helping her back into the chair. “Do you know him?”

“Yeah,” she felt herself starting to cry. “How? They were both in prison?”

“We need to call the police,” Will said softly before taking his phone out.

“911 what’s your emergency?” She could hear the muffled woman’s voice as he pressed his phone to his ear.

“This is Detective William LaMontagne Jr. Two men just broke into my friend’s home and tried to kill her,” he explained the situation, making her shutter.

She watched as he talked to the woman, suddenly not able to hear anything as her body slipped into shock. She was completely numb. In the last 10 months she hadn’t fired a single shot on the job, and yet on her birthday, the one time she's alone, she has to kill someone in her own home.

The place where she was supposed to feel safe and happy. Where her new life with Spencer and Matthew was supposed to start. They promised Gideon love and laughter, having that dream stripped from them when Pure Evil stepped over the threshold.

It was just like the dream, the last one she had before Spencer wrapped himself around her, calming her down.

This time he wasn’t here, he didn’t even know that this had happened, he wasn’t always going to be there to save her. She pulled herself back into the moment, calming herself like she had all those years before him.

She wasn’t a damsel in distress, he knew that.

A man walked into her home, the one time he knew she’d be alone and vulnerable.

That was the only part of the dream that matched.

Unlike her dream, she wasn’t a victim. Not in this house. Not in her space. Not ever.

The sound of the sirens echoed in her ears finally, she turned to the commotion of officers running into her new house. Will walked them through it all, telling them who Y/N was and that this was her home. How she saw a man in her yard and hid before killing him upstairs.

“Ma’am?” A stranger in a uniform tried to get her attention. “Ma’am, can you come with me?”

She nodded, standing up and finding support in the man’s arms. He wrapped her up in a silver blanket before he led her outside and into an ambulance. She had her vitals taken and an oxygen mask placed on her to help her calm down.

“Is the baby okay?” She asked the EMT, pulling the mask off her face so he’d hear her.

“Yes,” he smiled. “Strong heartbeat, no signs of distress but you need to relax so we can keep it that way.”

Will climbed into the ambulance then, taking her hand in his, “hey doll, are you okay?”

She nodded, “just a little shook up.”

“I called Spencer,” he said softly. “They’re 30 minutes from landing, then him and the team are on their way. No one told the team about the prison break in Oklahoma, they didn’t even think to connect them back to you.”

She sighed, “two cases in 2 different states, where the offenders ended up going to a 3rd state to meet and do time together and bond over the women who put them away. Makes sense.”

“You put them both away?” He asked.

She nodded again. “I basically made it my life goal to get Travis Johnson, he’s the reason I have this job, he’s the reason I’m pregnant right now,” her words trailed off into whispers. “I saw him in November, he congratulated me when he saw the bump.”

“Who was the other guy?”

“The Winnemucca womb raider, he would kill pregnant women by strangling them before removing their wombs,” she looked at him, horrified. “They wanted to kill us...”

She wrapped her arms around her own stomach, she had almost forgotten to worry about him. To even think that she was more than just one person at the moment.

They weren’t after her, they were after the most important thing to her. Her son, her baby boy. Like all the mothers before her, like their own. They wanted her to suffer, for her son to be spared a future worse than death in their opinion.

All the images from the cases came flying back as she blinked faster and faster. Strangled women, removed wombs, thanking God for a second that Spencer was the one to see the recovered organs in his trailer. A sick feeling bubbled in her body, a chill ran deep in her bones.

Then everything went black.

—

The first thing she remembers when she gained consciousness again was that Spencer was furious. She could see him and Hotch in a heated conversation from inside the ambulance, she tried her best to wake up and zone in on what was going on.

It was too dark for her to read their lips, but he was angry.

JJ was sitting beside her now, holding her hand. “Hey, bestie.”

“Did the cat get out?” She doesn’t know why that’s the first thing she asks, “the door was left open, did he get out?” Still in shock, still trying to understand everything.

JJ shushed her, petting her hair as she leaned in close, hugging her softly. “He was in the laundry room, Will said he made sure to find him when you were getting checked out.”

“Good,” she nodded along as she listened. “I’m so overwhelmed.”

JJ let out an awkward laugh, “I can imagine.”

“I’m also starting to fall in love with your husband,” she found her sense of humour then. “He has perfect timing.”

JJ laughed a little harder, causing Spencer’s focus to shift to the ambulance. Y/N watched him run towards it and jump in.

“Y/N, oh my god,” Spencer wrapped his arms around her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m safe, the baby’s healthy,” she assured him.

He kissed her all over her face, making her giggle when he wouldn’t stop, repeating kisses all over her face, her ears and her neck. She could hear JJ also laughing as she watched with Hotch just outside.

He finally stopped to catch his breath, hugging her again with his face in her neck. “I love you,” she reminded him.

“You love me?” He pulled back, “I love you so fucking much, I am never leaving you alone again.”

“Spencer,” she laughed, “I think I handled it pretty well.”

He huffed and shook his head, “you shouldn’t have had to handle this in the first fucking place! It’s not that fucking hard for someone to call the god damn FBI and say hey two psychopaths that your genius new girl put behind bars, fucking escaped!”

She finally knew what Hotch meant when he said Spencer’s anger scared him. She looked at him like he was a whole different person, “Spence, baby, I know. It’s okay, I’m fine see?”

She placed her hands on his cheeks as she looked into his beautiful hazel eyes, watching his pupils change size as he focused on her. Love and life behind them, true happiness clouded by horror at the thought of losing the love of his life.

He was what a true man was supposed to be, a real genuine person with love and kindness, and empathy. Her soulmate, her Spencer.

“We can’t control everything, that’s what you told me. We handle what’s in front of us, and we do it well,” she smiled as she reminded him.

Spencer started to cry, pulling her in close. “I can’t lose you.”

She cried at the sound of his voice, his heart shattering as he cried in her arms, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Terrified on a level she’s never seen in him before.

She rubbed his back as she held him, rocking him lightly as she shushed him absentmindedly. Soothing him as if her life depended on it, it broke her heart to see him this broken about the idea of losing her. She loved him so much it made her heart physically ache in her chest as she held him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, whispering against his hair. “I’ll kill a million men if it means coming home to you.”

He laughed in the middle of his cries, she could feel him smile softly as he sniffled against her shirt. “Promise?” He asked as he pulled back to look at her.

She wiped the tears from his cheeks, his beautiful eyelashes clumped together in the wetness. He was so sweet, she couldn’t help kissing him quickly, “promise.”

—

Hotch insisted they head to the BAU with the rest of the team while he handled the crime scene and the forensic clean-up, knowing on a personal level what it was like to clean Evil’s blood out of your bedroom carpet.

Y/N was sitting in the car waiting to leave when she saw Will coming out of her house with 3 pizzas. “I forgot I ordered those,” she gasped at the sight.

“You should’ve seen the look on the delivery guy’s face,” JJ laughed.

It was really bizarre having a pizza party in Rossi’s office after shooting someone in her home. Everyone was trying to be as chipper as possible to try and take the tension off the situation, but Y/N was pretty quiet.

Morgan got everyone to settle down before closing the office door, sitting close to her and Spencer. “Everyone in this room has either been shot, in danger, held hostage or worse,” he offered her some support.

“If you want to share anything, express any feeling or just tell us to fuck off, you can,” his words were soft, she watched him with soft eyes as he spoke.

“The only thing I can think of is that fate is fucked up,” she replied, the honesty slipping off her tongue like it was made of butter.

“You have the floor,” he insisted that she continue.

“I moved into a tiny apartment, farther away from my job, because I needed somewhere to live, and I found Spencer in the hallway. Spencer led me to you, and you guys helped me find Travis Johnson, my personal nightmare case of 2 years,” she explained like they never knew that. “But it’s so much more than that now.”

“We ran into Travis at the prison in Oklahoma a few months ago,” Spencer added. “He noticed that she was pregnant and congratulated her.”

“But the thing that’s fucking me up the most is that, and sorry TMI,” she warned them before continuing. “but we conceived the baby in Kansas when we caught the VICAP counsellor, only a few towns over from where we arrested Travis. Then we ran into him on a different case in Oklahoma, and he happened to be in the same prison as a man from New Mexico I put away for killing pregnant women. Something about this all lines up so perfectly... I hate that I find it so interesting.”

“That is kind of insane,” Morgan agreed. “I think it just means you and Spencer are being pulled together by something with bigger plans than you realize. And you’re a good shot, so thankfully you have nothing to worry about now.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

She held Spencer’s hand, looking down at the ring on her finger that meant she was his forever. As much as she hated the idea of a man owning a woman, she loved the idea that Spencer was her person forever.

They were tied together in a way no one would understand, she loved him deeper than she ever thought possible.

Everything happened for a reason. Her reason just so happened to be Fate wanting her to spend the rest of her life, Happily with Doctor Spencer Reid.

—

She woke up around noon the next day, Spencer was sitting up beside her reading a book when she finally clued into where she was. They had spent the night at Rossi’s house while the forensic cleanup team handled her kitchen and bedroom.

“Good morning,” she smiled up at him, stretching against the sheets as she fully woke up.

He put his book down and joined her, wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her neck softly.

“Good morning,” he replied finally. She loved his voice when he hadn’t spoken yet. His vocal cords yearning to be used.

She smiled against his skin, holding him against her chest as she breathed him in. Her safety, her cosmic soulmate.

Everything just felt better in the world when they were pressed this close to each other. This was how they were meant to be.

“How are you feeling?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.

She rolled him onto his back, snuggling into his chest and lifting a leg over him so the baby wasn’t squished. “Good, I’m excited to go back home later.”

“You’re not scared,” his fingers ran through her hair as she felt his breath on her face.

“No,” she shook her head against him. “Yesterday could’ve been a lot worse, but I’m trained to think on my feet and the danger is gone now. I’m never going to let myself be a victim in my own home.”

“I love you,” he reminded her. “And after yesterday-“

“I want to get married soon too,” she cut him off, getting up and sitting on his hips. She ran her hands over his chest as she looked down at his beautiful, still puffy, morning face.

He beamed up at her, “I feel it too, I want to make it official. I want to shout it from the rooftops that the love of my life chose me too.”

She nodded softly, “and we agreed that in April this year we’d go to Vegas, and we’d do it. I think we still should, I just want to plan it a little.”

“Of course,” he agreed, squeezing her thighs in his excitement. “Come here.”

She held his face in her hands as she leaned down, rubbing her thumb over his bottom lip as she looked at him ever so softly. “I love you,” she said before kissing him.

His hands wandered over her back, holding her into the kiss. Breathing in deep through his nose, kissing her as if they hadn’t seen each other in months.

Spencer was desperate to love her, and she was desperate to be loved by him.

She broke the kiss to just look at him, moving his hair back and pressing her forehead against his. “The park across the street from my parents house,” she whispered.

“Mhmm.”

“I want to get married there, I want to start the rest of my life in the spot where I first really fell in love with you,” she explained, her lips close enough to him that the words could have stuck to his skin.

“I think I can pull some strings and get us a permit by April,” He smiled against her lips, “what day are we thinking?”

“The 23rd, 1 year exactly,” she said before Spencer pulled her back into another kiss, this time it’s soft and delicate. “Until forever,” she whispered against his lips.

“You need to promise me one thing,” he added. Feeling her nod as she kissed down his neck. “I know you said you’re fine, but the second you’re not I need you to tell me.”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting back up as she straddled his hips. “You have to do the same, I can’t handle you crying in my arms like that again, it really broke my heart.”

He held his pinky out to her, she smiled as she wrapped her own around his. Both leaning in to kiss the other's knuckle, a small tradition Y/N adored.

—

They were back at their house by 5 pm. Hotch had ensured that everything was completely cleaned and there was 0 evidence that a crime had even taken place on the property. Penelope on the other hand had taken it upon herself to break into their alarm system and reset it for them shortly after everyone left.

They changed the code, closed the door and sighed at the beautiful home that felt a little different now. “I think I want to paint,” she announced.

“Yeah?” Spencer laughed at the suddenness.

“It’s too blah, y’know? I see what they were doing with the whites and beige for all the light. But, I’m thinking green in here to flow with the cabinets in the kitchen,” she walked through the foyer as she imagined the colours that would look good. “Like an olive or forest, maybe even jade. It’ll look nice with the dark wood.”

“That would be nice,” Spencer agreed. “Make it feel more like the old apartment.”

“Exactly,” she smiled. “I miss the clutter and the intimacy of the last place, and I know you miss the look of books everywhere.”

“I’m still alphabetizing them in my office,” he added. “I’d like to paint in there as well, I’ve been looking at antique chairs and couches for my reading.”

“Hotch is going to make us take 2 weeks off again,” Y/N looked at him with excitement. “We can put all our energy into this place now.”

“Let’s make it ours,” He agreed.

“Wanna go to the hardware store and look at paint samples?” She hopped with excitement, grabbing his arm and tugging on him.

He laughed, pulling her into his chest. “Sure, bunny,” he pressed his cheek to the top of her head as he held her. “What about Matthew’s room?”

“Oh, me and Penelope have it all planned, all the stuff is being delivered next month. She kinda went a little nuts,” Y/N laughed.

“He’s going to be one loved little boy,” Spencer chuckled. “Come on, let’s go.”

[molkolsdal]

Pakistan's Transgender Community Is Hiding Out in a Hostile City

As Peshawar has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam, its community of transgender hijras has been increasingly marginalized.

By Beenish Ahmed, 16/05/2014 Photos by Abdul Majeed Goraya

"My father used to beat me and ask, 'Why do you have to go around pretending to be a girl?'"

Now at 35, she says her cheeks burn and fists tighten if anyone refers to her as a man.

Khushboo, whose name means fragrance, classifies herself as a hijra, a South Asian gender designation that encompasses transgender and transexual people, as well as transvestites and eunuchs.

She has a different definition for herself and the estimated hundreds of thousands of other hijras across the region. "Our souls are female and our bodies are male," she says, dipping a rag into a red plastic pail filled with a chalky mixture of water and face powder. Surrounded by a group of several other hijras in a room they call their "office," Khushboo smears the dripping rag over her face and adds, "I've known I was a hijra since I was a child."

She used to wear her sisters' clothes. At 16, Khushboo slipped out of the house in one of their outfits and didn't return home for years. Along with another hijra, she settled in Peshawar, a city in northwestern Pakistan one night's drive from the costal city of Karachi where she'd grown up.

Peshawar has long been home to cultural traditions that insist on strict gender segregation, and the city has come under increasing sway of an extremist view of Islam in recent years. These intolerant, conservative beliefs are made brutally clear through the bombings and shootings that are now near-weekly occurrences. Taliban suicide bombers killed 85 worshippers at a church there last September, and militants killed thirteen people at a cinema showing pornographic movies in February. Lesser attacks are momentary blips on local news coverage featuring bloodied streets and blaring sirens.

Khushboo points to battered doors and broken windows around her. She says young men—"college boys" she calls them—wreak havoc on her and fellow hijras who are preparing for a dance performance later that night. Sometimes the men recite scripture and beat the hijras to shame them out of their profession as dancers, and other times they force them to dance or even rape them, she tells me.

Despite the extremism that has only further marred the city since her arrival nearly 20 years ago, Khushboo has an affinity for Peshawar because it's where she had a sort of rebirth as her new self.

Free from the abuse of her father and brothers, as well as the sense of dishonor she felt on behalf of her mother and sisters, Khushboo embraced a new life of openness—and was adopted into a new family.

"In this field we have mothers. We have gurus. We have uncles and aunts," she says, and then points to a girl who's rolling a spliff in the corner of the room. "She's my daughter. I'm a daughter of someone so she has a grandmother too. And," Khushboo adds, "She also has a father."

That last bit comes so quickly that I almost miss it. I inquire further about the girl's "papa" and Khushboo says, "Her father is married to someone else, but he loves me." She then goes on to explain what their relationship entails—and it's all very practical until it gets utterly tragic: "If I'm sick, he comes by and brings me medicine," she says proudly. "If I don't have money he drops some cash off. If I die, it's this man who will dress me up as a man and take my body to his house to carry out the cemetery. He might not explain the full story and just say that I was killed in the market or that there was some kind of shooting, but he's the one who will take care of the funeral."

I can't help but think that this grim possibility is one that Khushboo has discussed with her "husband"—and one that he too has come to terms with.

"In Pakistani society, there is a really strong [sense of] place and family," says Dr. Jamil Ahmad Chitrali, a professor of anthropology. "There is no alternative for anyone."

Based at the University of Peshawar, Chitrali has written about the city's hijra community. He says that by forging the same sorts of familial connections that they left behind, hijras create a social order that mimics the very society from which many of them fled.

"It's forcing all those revolutionary individuals who are against those binaries of man and woman to come into a structure which is reaffirming patriarchy," he says.

Pakistan's hijras have made some strides in recent years despite their rather isolated existence. In 2012, the Pakistani Supreme Court allowed for a "third gender" category to be added to national identity cards, which effectively gave hijras increased legal standing. It's because of this broader recognition that hijras could vote in that year's presidential election—at least five hijras even ran for office.

But the third gender classification has made little practical difference in Khusbhoo's life. "We live in a third world," she says, the difference between her life and that of a cisgender person just as stark as the difference between life in Pakistan, and say, Monaco.

And, she says, no matter what she does, she'll always be seen as different.

"Even if I give up dancing, everyone will still call me a hijra so what's the point? Why not do what I love?" She adds that even if she were to become a traveling evangelist, her family would still regard her with the same disdain. "I'm better off staying a hijra."

And that's the hardest thing that Khushboo has to face: her family. She got back in touch with them after five years of not speaking, and goes to see them in Karachi at least once a year. But when she does, she goes dressed as a man.

Though she moves about as a woman in Peshawar, Khushboo wears a black floor length, full-sleeved robe (or abaya), and a face covering (or niqab) that reveals only her eyes to hide herself from prying eyes. Even so, she's been thrown out of several houses by people who fear hijras will ruin their neighborhood.

While they occupy a marginalized space across Pakistan, hijras are probably worst off in Peshawar. In all of the other major cities in the country, they are frequent sites at traffic intersections or in shopping centers where they offer a prayer for a few rupees. Many passersby fear denying them might mean a curse and so will either oblige quickly or turn away completely.

I've spent a lot of time in Peshawar over the years, and have never seen hijras out in public the way they are in other cities. After speaking with Professor Chitrali, I learned that might be because hijras have a different role in the Pathan society that dominates the Peshawar area. In this part of the country, hijras aren't seen to have some sort of greater spiritual connection than cisgender people—instead, their role is celebratory. They're often asked to sing and dance at weddings and births.

"It's their performance which gives [a family] social recognition," Chitrali says, though the tradition is fading as weddings move from family houses into wedding halls. Some might have other professions—Khushboo says she has hijra friends who are lawyers and pilots and act cisgender in order to maintain their jobs, though they're free to "be themselves" with her and other hijras. Due to a lack of societal acceptance, many hijras live marginalized lives as low-income entertainers, but they've got a bit of a role as educators, too. Hijras sometimes teach—or even initiate—young men into sex. For many in Peshawar who live by strict religious and cultural codes that denounce almost any pre-marital interaction between the sexes as sinful, hijras provide a sort of in-between, or a "cushion," as Chitrali calls it.

"If you cross the domain of manhood into womanhood, that is against the culture, that is crossing your limits. But you can always move into the gray area, so this hijra community, in that sense, in a clear binary of man and woman among Pathans, [forms] a gray area." But he says that this "learning experience" is becoming less common with such how-to's readily available on the internet.

In Peshawar's increasingly religiously-motivated milieu, the presence of hijras—be they dancers or sex workers—is frowned upon and politicians vie for favor by pushing them out of their homes and worksites.

Seeing this, Malik Iqbal says he wanted to do something. "I sympathize with them because no one gives them any space," he tells me.

He rents out the office that Khusboo and her fellow hijras use to prepare for their dances.

"I didn't used to be on their side," Iqbal says. "Now I help them. I say they're humans too. We should have some empathy for that reason. Not just me, everyone should empathize with them as people."

But some believe Iqbal's connection to hijras goes beyond a shared humanity. Though he refuses to speak about it, Iqbal was arrested in 2010 for attempting to marry a hijra called Rani. Such a union would be illegal under Pakistani law, which only recognizes marriages between men and women. He has repeatedly denied the charge and claimed that police were trying to extort money from hijras at an event that wasn't a marriage but an innocent birthday party. Either way, the shock the story garnered reveals just how far removed everyday Pakistanis are from the hijra community. A big-grossing film called Bol, or Speak—released in 2011—may have helped some, but real connections like Iqbal's remain few.

And not everyone in close proximity to hirjas is sympathetic. Noor Illahi, who owns a grain shop down the street from the hijras' office, doesn't have a problem with the hijras themselves or even their work, but thinks they should find some other place to go. "My work has suffered because of them. The other storeowners and I, we think they should be given some place off to the side. It should be separate."

He's worked in his store for 15 years and says that sales have dropped fifty percent since the hijras set up shop next door a few years ago. "There are a lot of fights here now. They create quite a scene sometimes."

The raucousness has driven away his customers. Those who stop in the area are more interested in the hijras than the sacks of flour he has for sale.

"I'm not personally offended by them. But look," he says, pointing to a group of several white shalwar kameez-clad men loitering outside the hijra's building. "These poor people have earned just three or four hundred rupees all day ($3-4) and they'll come here and waste it all on them."

The men are all rickshaw drivers. One by one, they go on the record to deny being there to solicit sex. "We're just here to chit chat with them," one says while peering over his shoulder to see if any of the hijras have come out into the alley. "It's a totally innocent relationship that we have with them."

Back up in the hijras' office, the lights have gone out as a part of the rolling power outages that have frustrated Pakistanis for years. It might be another hour before they're ready to leave for their performance. When they do, they'll be cloaked in massive shawls and under the cover of night.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Monthly Reads | June 2020

Another 28th, another fic rec for you. Here are all the fics I read and loved this month. Happy reading!

✸ Caves End | jacaranda_bloom | famous/not famous - slow burn - hurt/comfort - angst - minor injury - miscommunication - fluff - 40k When a recurring injury cuts short Harry’s time as the Captain of the English Football Team, he needs to rethink his career and his future. His best mate and manager, Niall, decides that what Harry really needs is a change of scenery, time to relax, and to get some perspective on his life. What Harry doesn’t expect is for them to end up in Australia, on a farm, with the most gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on. OR the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

✸ Just for Tonight (I can be yours) | SadaVeniren | a/b/o - royalty - secret identity - secret realtionship - arranged marriage - mpreg - 42k Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

✸ Falling in the Wrong Direction | FallingLikeThis | past character death - grief/mourning - homophobia - internalized homophobia - secrets - angst - fluff - hurt/comfort - emotional hurt/comfort - enemies to friends to lovers - 25k When Harry’s fiancé, Liam, passes away just before their wedding, he doesn’t know how to cope. As time goes on, Harry learns to heal, but is left living in the house his fiancé used to share with his best friends and Harry is uncovering a lot of secrets he didn’t know Liam had... while possibly falling for the one person who helped Liam keep them from him. Harry never quite got along with Louis, but maybe he’s the one person who can help Harry bridge the gap between the life he thought he would have and the one he is now living. A Catch and Release au

✸ we can only look behind | hereforlou | growing up together - childhood friends - slow burn - friends to lovers - friends with benefits - pining - internalized homophibia - Coming Out - 66k His mum said there was no getting an idea out of his head once it was stuck in there and Harry thought she was right. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose - his ideas were just really sticky. (Or, the one where Harry fixates through the years.)

✸ somewhere in between lightning | jassy117, nauticalleeds, shiningdistractionwrites | Love Island Au - exes to lovers - angst - pining - miscommunication - fluff - reality show - 99k As Louis took another bite, he thought back to how he had once believed that the hardest thing about being on Love Island would be Liam handling his social media. He had been wrong. It was Harry Styles, peeking over at Louis as he forked a pancake into his mouth, and gauging his reaction. It was having to quench the swelling of his heart, which felt simultaneously like hope and the breaking of a thousand pieces. --- A summer gone wrong (or very right) when, under Liam’s persuasion, Louis finds himself drunkenly applying for Love Island, and getting accepted. Oh, well. A summer spent on an island paradise couldn’t be all that bad, right? Imagine his surprise when Louis arrives in sunny Majorca to find that his first love and ex-boyfriend, Harry, is another contestant, about to capture the hearts of everyone in the villa. Most normal people don’t have to face their ex on an otherwise straight TV show. Most normal people don’t fall for their ex again in front of the whole nation, either. Too bad this whole situation isn’t normal.

✸ Dreams Once Remembered | Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew) | rape/non-con - kidnapping - mpreg - unplanned pregnancy - angst - emotional hurt/comfort therapy - child loss - kid fic - rape recovery - 78k 16-year-old Harry Styles is on the verge of a life-changing moment. He has been put in a band on The X-Factor and he and his new bandmates are about to get ready for a glorious adventure together. In one terrible moment, all of that is stolen from Harry. Kidnapped, Harry spends the next seven-and-a half-years in a twelve-by-twelve shed, suffering repeated assault at the hands of his captor. One of these assaults results in a daughter Harry has raised entirely on his own in the small space they call Room. Now that Darcy is five, Harry is determined that she be allowed to experience the real world, and he devises a plan for them to escape. Should they escape, there are many questions. Can Darcy adjust to the outside world? Can Harry start over? What kind of relationship, if any, can he have with the band that moved on without him? Even with success far from assured, Harry knows he has to take a chance. For him, and for his little girl.

✸ No Friends and An Empty Heart | Maelstrom_Roots | Fleabag AU - mentions of suicide - attempted sexual assault - therapy - sex addicition - angst - grief/mourning - 36k When Louis Tomlinson gets an invitation for dinner with the family he's been estranged from for a year, he has only one goal: to get his sister to talk to him again. But when an unexpected guest in the form of a hot priest is also at the dinner table, Louis may have to accept that the universe has other plans for him. A Fleabag Season 2 AU featuring Fleabag Louis Tomlinson and Hot Priest Harry Styles.

✸ Still the One | dandelionfairies | kid fic - past cheating - post-divorce - 54k Harry was 15 when he met Louis, 17 when they made love for the first time, 19 when they got engaged and married. One would think he has a perfect life, right? It’s what he thought. He was 21 when he learned that Louis had an affair. It was only one time. That’s what Louis had told him. Harry tried to forgive him. He tried to move on from that horrible moment, but he couldn’t. It was his 22nd birthday when he signed the divorce papers, leaving England behind. After finding himself living in a small town in Nebraska, Harry learns to live on his own. He becomes a preschool teacher at the local school and spends his free time continuing his own painting. He’s even been lucky enough to sell a few pieces. He’s 25 when his life is turned upside down once again by the single father who has moved into the house on the property he just happens to park his trailer.

✸ You Left all your Dreams on the Threshing Floor | LadyLondonderry | fashion - journalism - bullying - past sexual assault - 27k Marcel will go home after work and he’ll clean his vest and he’ll bleach his shirt and tomorrow will be a new day. He’s got other things that he can spend his time focusing on. How to fit in a third quote onto the cover of the fall issue of Mod Mag without covering any details in the model’s face, for instance. Maybe he’ll switch to gluten-free banana bread for the meeting on Friday. He knows some co-workers likes to eat gluten free, at least. Someone will have to accept his friendship advances eventually. They’ll have to. Right? - Louis Tomlinson gets a job at Mod Magazine. He’s quickly drawn to the one person in the office who won’t give him (or anyone) the time of day; Marcel Styles, Senior Layout Editor.

✸ Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) | Anonymous | a/b/o - emotional hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - pack dynamics - mutual pining - secrets - slow burn - 51k “Thanks, Ni, I guess I needed to hear that,” Harry sighed and wrapped his own arms around Niall and squeezed him tightly not caring if Liam would be mad. He missed Niall so much. “Does it really come as a surprise to you that I’m right? Shaking my head, Haz. You should know me better,” the brunette teased. Harry giggled again. “You know Hazza, you really are so different to all the other alphas out there. You’re soft, caring, cuddly and sweet and those damn dimples. So freaking pretty, it’s almost annoying. I would hate you if you weren’t my best friend. You’d really be a brilliant omega. Nature really did a number here,” Niall mumbled. It was his turn to smash his nose into Harry’s neck and Harry was extremely thankful for that because he wasn’t sure he had his facial expression in check at all. Or a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

✸ Confessions of a Fabricated Alpha | Anonymous | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - secret identity - famous/not famous - fake/pretend relationship - rape/non-con - public humiliation - anxiety - depression - sex work - 18k Hearing it now almost made Harry hang up the phone, but he sighed and pressed one to be connected to one of their alpha operators. He’d already committed to this low point in his life and hanging up meant he couldn’t wallow in it and he was in a wallowing mood. “You are being connected to alpha operator number forty-four. Rogue will be with you shortly.” The name was said in a different voice like a voice mailbox someone might have on their office phone. It made him snort out a laugh at how stupid it all was. It felt like a budget sex line. or famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

✸ Iron Hearts, Fire Souls | hopelesswriter | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - alpha/alpha - co-workers - fluff - 26k "Lou..." “I know, Harry! I know what you’ll say, we can’t right? We can’t help each other’s needs? We can’t be what the other needs? But fuck, what about what we want?! And I say we because you’ve been saying yes to all of our dates and you've been flirting back all this time and-“ He took a deep breath. “And there is nothing that I want more right now than to kiss you.” Or the one where Harry and Louis are two single and unmated Lawyer Alphas that have to share an office and even though they shouldn't be that attracted to each other's scents, it sure isn't a big deal, right? I mean, what could go wrong?

✸ last blues for bloody knuckles | creamcoffeelou | a/b/o - strangers to lovers to strangers to lovers - mob au - religious themes - pregnancy - angst - 34k “Hi, love,” A too-familiar voice greeted him from the other side of the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips that he brought between two fingers as his eyes raked over Louis. All Louis could do was stare, wide-eyed at the alpha that he’d left behind so many years ago. “Harry?” His voice felt far away, like it wasn’t him that was speaking. On the other side of the door stood the one man he never thought he’d see again, and maybe the only man he never wanted to see again. A few steps behind him stood Liam and someone else he didn’t recognize, with guns tucked into their front pockets. “I need you to come with me.” OR Styles was a name everyone knew. It had evolved into something of a fairy tale, a far away problem that normal people didn’t have to deal with. Louis never thought he’d find himself falling in love with him. When he finds himself pregnant with Harry’s child, he knows he has to leave the life, and Harry, behind. For her sake. He never expected Harry to show back up on his doorstep five years later. A mob au.

✸ It Feels Different When You’re With Me | Rearviewdreamer | sign language - slow burn - 45k Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.

✸ let me carry your weight | soldouthaz | trainer Harry - insecure Louis - pining - smut [check tags for specific smut tags] - 28k louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

[ungracefulace]

Apparently @exclusionistgodzilla made a callout post about me and its... So much. I cant reblog from them but I can respond to this because its dead ass just factually incorrect in a lot of places

So this is how they begin their callout. With someone who just cant stand me. Which is valid, but their reasoning is honestly hilarious. I just want to focus on how for proof in a callout about the DANGERS of ungracefulace, you get unsourced and also wrong (anyone who actually reads anything I post ever will see that I dont give a pass for phobic stuff ace people or any people do. I actively call out and argue with shitty inclusionists when I see them) whining from a whole ass 32 year old. So not a string start but lets see what's next.

So again, this doesn't... count as a source of my evil since it diesnt have anything from what I said. But Ill do one better, I actually found said conversation and this is what they were talking about. (For context this is arguing against the whole idea that ace people cant consent to sex because we don't experience sexual attraction)

So first of all I didnt say aces having sex is like lesbians having sex with men at all. I said that an ace person choosing to gave sex with someone counts as consent, and that lesbian sex workers like my aunt are doing so consenually.

Ill definitely give you my wording is bad; when I say "without enjoying it" I'm meaning without being sexually attracted to. And when I said that it doesnt gave to be super enthusiastic I meant that you dont have to be super pumped to have sex for you to want to have sex. But also this is from like 3 years ago and I've gotten way better at wording things (at least in my opinion)

Obviously these are different circumstances, but for clarification in the case of an ace person deciding to have sex with their partner there's nothing wrong with that as long as they arent being manipulated or coerced, just like literally any couple ever. And for sex workers as long as they are in control of their clientelle then I see no problem with that either.

So none of these at ALL have rape culture apologism so thats just a straight up lie. "Recounting possibly triggering opinions to a CSA survivor minor without consent" ????? They literally were the one to start talking to me in replies of an OP I made about consent. This was the only thing I said about it and they told me they didnt want to talk about it anymore I completely dropped it. And oh yeah, Im a CSA survivor too???? And was also a minor at the time???? Y'all are trying to frame me as some type of predator acting like theres some kind of power imbalance I'm preying on when thats literally not the case and its fucked up.

Supporting self identification in minors is apparently a call out offense now according "supporting the labelling of kids as asexual". And general illiteracy is something thats not supported past "this person said simeone they argued with cant read"

But wait, that's not all!!!

The callout actually continues! With this "receipt"

This is in reference to the thing from like 2 days ago, and again... its so much. We start out strong with blaming me for "defending 10 year olds being ace" because I'm not some asshole going to tell someine who isnt 10 and is still ace that they didnt actually learn they were ace wyen they were 10.

Then we slide into full lies, nowhere do I even mention "allo kids" or say that its normal for 9 year olds to want or have sex. I said that puberty starts between 9-13, and I said that after puberty people can be interested in sexual stuff. I also said (in the screenshotted part they have in their callout) that obviously its not good and n that I dont think anyone shluld be doing anything sexual until they are at least 16.

This last thing just straight up doesnt make sense. For one, the discussion doesnt gave anything to do with grooming. Someone said someine else was lying about their personal experiences for why they identified as ace at 10, and my point was that they cant decide that person is a liar because they dont think 10 year olds are doing anything sexual. They shouldn't be, but its entirely possible and does happen so unless they literally were in school with that person theres no basis to say the person is lying. But secondly, they acknowledge that I do address the grooming point but not enough for them??? How is that callout worthy???

And then they end this already really thin callout with this...

All in all, this is a poor callout formed from lies and twisting situations. And considering this is coming from Discourse "the AGBT movement" Godzilla its not surprising but holy shit is it annoying to deal with. But yeah. If anyone needs more sources or anything nust let me know. But that pisspoor callout... Yikes

[luciferpens]

( JENNA COLEMAN, FEMALE, SHE/HER ) ⌇ have you seen AVA EVANS around icaria? they are the 36-year-old child of EROS. they remind me of SENSUAL TOUCHES UNDER DIM LIGHT, RED SMILING LIPS, and FEATHER LIKE GRACE. 

BASICS

FULL NAME: Ava Evans

NICKNAMES: A, Love, Sweetheart

FACE CLAIM: Jenna Coleman

AGE: Thirty-six

SEXUALITY: pansexual & panromantic 

DATE OF BIRTH: February 20

GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis female she/her

EDUCATION: Ph.D in psychology

OCCUPATION: Therapist. Relationship/Marriage (and Sex therapy). She runs a club called Pyrne as well which is a sex club. 

GODLY PARENT: Eros

GODLY POWERS: Can woo people with a smile, elicit or take away erotic/romantic emotions with just a touch or a word (think Lucifer TV show and the “what is it you desire”), has the ability to see what she calls strings. (Think red string of fate) Multiple colors each meaning something different, this allows her to see soulmates, friendships, enemies etc. She can not see her own strings. 

BIO + Bullet points

Ava was born to a single mother

She spent most of her formative years assuming she was normal.

When she hit puberty she started to show signs of her father, from being able to woo practically anyone with a simple smile or the fact that her touch elicited.... erotic emotions from most anyone. 

She was 11 when she found out her father was Eros god love and physical desires

Her mother bought her gloves and then told her the story of her father and how she came to be. She stopped using said gloves when she hit 16 and had gained control over her powers. (Puberty was a bitch lbr) 

In Highschool and college, Ava got around. With a father like Eros and abilities like she had -- it was hard not to. 

She went to college to become a therapist, to help others understand their own minds and feelings, especially sexual ones. 

For a short period of time, Ava dabbled in BDSM as a dominatrix.

Ava is highly curious but very sweet and wants to help make people’s lives better.

Born on a beautiful and surprisingly sunny day in Southhampton, England Ava came into the world.... quiet.  She cried when prompted but otherwise was a calm and happy little infant. Lucy Evans couldn't have been more proud or in love with her new daughter. She hadn’t expected a child to come from her ‘relationship’ with Eros... yet here she was 9 months later a baby girl to remind her of her whirlwind romance with the god. There had been a moment in the first couple years of little Ava’s life that Lucy thought she’d tell her daughter the true story of her father but as she watched her grow into a seemingly normal child, no powers to speak of Lucy thought the better of it.

Ava had spent the first 10.5 years of her life as a totally normal kid, she had sleepovers, she went on field trips and to school, she went camping or traveled with her mom. She was satisfied... and would have stayed that way if puberty hadn’t smacked her in the face so hard she felt like she woke up in another universe. As puberty started to take hold of the girl her powers started to manifest. She would smile at a boy and next thing she knew he was obsessed with her, she would touch a girl’s hand and suddenly her best friend wanted to kiss her. This built and built until she was almost 11. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when her hand brushed an older gentleman’s in the crowd and he tried to kidnap her. Her powers having affected his reasoning and thought process. This was when her mother sat her down, gave her a pair of gloves, and explained what happened and where her powers had come from. She learned the true story of her birth, of how her father was Eros god of love and desire and suddenly things started to fall into place. She started to make sense of how the world worked and why people treated her the way she did.

When she was  12 years old she saw a woman who’s spark of love for her husband had faded and with a couple comments she had heard the woman make, she assumed, very wrongly, that the woman wanted it back. So being a helpful little girl Ava removed her glove and returned that spark to the woman. A couple of weeks later she saw the news only to see that that woman had been killed by her abusive husband. This rocked little Ava’s world, sent her to therapy though she knew, even at 12, there was no easy way to explain what she had done. So her mother and her had come up with a story that emulated what actually happened but without the powers. 

As she got older and her powers became a bit more controlled, and her a bit more careful she had to deal with her friends wanted people to like them and it was just so easy to help them get that crush they wanted. She rarely actually made feelings appeared, just pushed them to the surface, helped people act on them -- only for it to go horribly wrong. The other wasn’t a good match, they were mean or just outright bad for one another. When she was 16 though things went a bit... dark.  TW: Rape & Murder

She had never really kept her powers a secret from those around her and for the most part, no one treated her any differently, well not really. But one boy he was angry she never set her sights on him, either to love him herself to help him find love she never really found out. But he stalked her over the course of half a year and then -- during spring break kidnapped her. He had tied her to a bed and raped her. In the middle of it she called out for her father through prayer and the god appeared angrier than Hera when she found out Zeus cheated on her yet again and killed the boy.  

End TW

Ava had to go to court and started therapy after what happened. She was cleared of any charges, ruled self-defense. Therapy helped her more than she could ever put into words. It helped her get through her own issues and fears. She learned through therapy that she needed to know more about the person, their mental health, and life situation before she used any part of her powers. This therapy continued all through her high school years. And while one would think she would be hesitant towards sex after what happened to her -- it was quite the opposite. She learned quickly that she would not let this man, dead or alive, control her and she became the biggest advocate for sex and sex workers. 

College came and Ava earned a Ph.D in psychology, it was the best use of her powers for good in her mind. To pay her way through college though Ava became a sex worker, she worked as a dominatrix in a BDSM club. When she graduated with her Ph.D she started to travel the world. She became an online therapist occasionally seeing her online patients in person if they were in the area she was traveling. But her real love of travel stemmed from going to more hurt and down places and helping out how she could. Sometimes that was physical labor sometimes it was to be a therapist for those who couldn’t afford one. 

This continued on until about five years ago when Eros appeared to her again and asked her to go to Icaria, telling her that with all that was happening to demi-gods -- they would need a therapist that could understand them and that they could tell everything to. So Ava went. She opened up her own practice and after a year she opened up Phyrne. Now some would just call Phyrne a sex club, and they wouldn’t be totally wrong, but Ava used it as a way to help couples through their sexual issues as well. It became a place to help people understand their fantasies and confront them. To help them heal if needed and to teach couples how to not be scared to try things. 

Ava loves her life here on Icaria and wants nothing more than to help people become the best versions of themselves and be comfortable with all sides of themselves. Some part of her believes she’ll never get her own true love -- and shes become content with the idea. 

HEADCANONS/WANTED CONNECTIONS

I’d love to see an old HS/College flame. Someone to stir the pot/bring back old memories.

Best friend, someone she tells everything to.

tons of FWB pls.

really anything at all. 

[orderofindomitus]

Bonding on Netflix

Bonding is a show on Netflix which tells the tale of a young dominatrix in NYC and her gay best friend Pete from high school who she hires as her bodyguard and assistant. It’s a quirky story and full of nicely done humor and visually appealing scenery. I was late to watch it and review it, but I saw an enormously negative reaction to it from my dominatrix peers. 

With an evening free, and the episodes being under 16 minutes, I decided to binge watch this and see what I thought. Who better to watch and review a show based on a New York City dominatrix/college student, than a Mistress who recently was a full-time New York City dominatrix/college student (and still visits and works there)? I definitely kept it in mind that it was a show and most likely not going to be extremely accurate. After watching it, I came to the conclusion that they did have a right to be a little upset over a few moments, but I noticed that much of their criticism came from aspects of the show that they completely misunderstood. Spoilers ahead!

Tiff is a young college student, (probably in the 20-23yr old range) just like I was in 2007 when I was working at a commercial dungeon in midtown Manhattan, going to college only two blocks away. She moonlights as Mistress May and she (like myself in 2007) works at what we call a “commercial dungeon” which is a dungeon that has a staff of women that a manager or dungeon owner hires and book sessions for. At least, that is what it seems like. The show makes that unclear. I’ll explain later. 

In the first few sentences that she ever utters, she says “No, I am a Domme, not a prostitute. NOT that there’s anything wrong with that” in response to her best friend Pete asking her if she has sex with her clients. This was very touching to hear for myself and I hope for other people, for two reasons. The first reason is that almost all of us (save for a few) in the United States do not have sex with our clients or do anything directly intimately sexual in nature with them (things you would hire an escort for). Unfortunately, we are often misunderstood and always lumped in the same categories as escorts when it comes to how society and law enforcement sometimes sees us. We often face the same social stigmas, and same injustices that escorts operating illegally (even sadly, legally) face. So her saying this, shows that our job is a bit different, to millions of viewers who watch the show. She also says “I’m a sex worker.” This is also important because we ARE sex workers of some form.

Asking us if we have sex with our clients is the first thing that every single one of our friends and family members ask us, because that is how little of this industry people know of. I cannot tell you how many men out there are caught seeing a pro Mistress by their wives and their wives truly believe he’s having sex with this Mistress and will not believe otherwise because she has no idea what we really do. We do not see anything wrong with women who have sex for money, it just does make things difficult for us when we are associated as operating as such, in terms of keeping ourselves legally safe, and like I said before, it would be nice for the world to be more informed on what it is that we actually do. 

The second reason why I loved this line is because of the part where she says “NOT that there’s anything wrong with that.” We all truly feel that prostitution needs to be decriminalized nation-wide. Too many people associate escorts with being dirty drugged up people who who disgusting and immoral acts and are less than human and do not deserve fair treatment or protection from harm, rather that we should do away with it all entirely. This is a completely false stereotype and one which causes harm and abuse. Escorts are targets of rape, harassment, assault, even murder. They are also of course, targets of underground sex trafficking. We need to change how society views these women in order to change the wrongful stigmas attached to them and keep them from being harmed. I don’t want to turn this blog post into a different topic entirely, which I easily can right now but I will stop here and get back to the show. So thank you Netflix for this line, as short as it was. It made my heart happy. 

 Moving on... 

This is where the show differs between real professional BDSM in NYC and fiction. At the end of the show, she goes on an outcall with someone who said that they called her dungeon to book her and the dungeon phone operator assisted him in this booking. This is how a commercial dungeon operates, a client calls and speaks to someone who books appointments, the phone person sets up the appointment. This alludes to the fact that she works at a commercial dungeon space. Many years ago, I was working at one of the only dungeons at the time that did outcalls, so I have a good understanding of this. However, they would have never done that with a client that they didn’t already know extremely well or had perfect references, and not for any promised amount of money from the client. This situation would have never happened. Only a young Mistress who was trying to work for herself and not for a dungeon, and was very naive would have done something so dangerous and stupid. The only thing right about this situation was that she had security with her, (her friend). I went on outcalls ONLY with a security person who had access to where I was, and again, only clients who were extremely well-vetted. 

Her hiring her friend in the first place was a complete mystery too. A commercial dungeon also provides a body guard, or simply the safety of a group of staff watching over you, as seen in episode 1, where her dungeon did have an actual body guard throwing out a client who did something inappropriate and put his hands on a Mistress. So if the dungeon had a body-guard, and a staff, why did she need to hire one? Giving her body guard bestie 20% of her earnings after a commercial dungeon takes 60-70% on average of your earnings already, would have been crushing to her income to say the least. She didn’t work at my dungeon because no one ever had a gay best friend body guard, so that meant she worked at one where she made $70 per hour a session. Why would she hire a body guard and give him 20% of that?

She could have been an independent dominatrix, who worked for herself and simply rented space at the dungeon, and she liked having an assistant to help her clean up and so on. However, based on her very young age, basic BDSM knowledge, her saying to a client that he could leave the money with the front desk, and the man in the final episode hiring her through the dungeon for an outcall, this doesn’t seem likely. Independent dominatrices tend to be much more experienced, knowledgable, and definitely have more than 1 or 2 outfits, which is all we see her in, in the whole show. Speaking of those 1 or 2 outfits, she also seems to only own 1 pair of boots which she also wears through the entire show for every single appointment. This screams “brand new Mistress” to everyone in my industry, because most brand new women just do not have much for wardrobe yet. They don’t have the funds yet to buy a bigger variety of outfits which they slowly obtain as the months go on. 

Moving along. 

Tiff has her assistant best friend who is now going by his alternate name “Carter” inside the actual room in all of her sessions. While this would have been ok every once in a blue moon for a submissive who enjoyed being humiliated like her client Fred, as Fred did not mind if it was done by a male friend (and it if anything, enhanced the humiliation which Fred craved), this wouldn’t fly for most other appointments. People are shy, nervous and the last thing they want is another male in the room in 95% of cases. 

I have had a male sub of mine piss on another sub of mine, and it was the very first time that he was doing it, so I really identified with the scene where Carter pissed on Fred for the first time. The funny clear raincoats for this scene were definitely the idea of NETFLIX to bring visual humor to the show, and not something we would actually put on. I thought it was cute and I appreciated the humor in it.  

Tiff says in the show that she has had a sad past where men had looked to use her for sex. She was not physically or psychologically abused, she simply was stating that she went through something that most young women go through in high school, young horny men dating you to just to experience having sex with you. I don’t know a woman who hasn’t had this happen, and sometimes it can be quite upsetting, however that is when, as a young woman, you learn from this, and put up boundaries moving forwards in your life. Due to her past, she has her guard up and is more aware of how men talk to her as seen with the boy in her college class who is pursuing her (JUST LIKE EVERY SINGLE WOMAN TO SOME DEGREE?). I see this as a representation of her growing from her past and being wiser about other people. The BDSM community and some of my peers felt that it showed a damaged and abused woman who became a dominatrix, and publicly stated such, (which is often a wrong stigma and stereotype associated with our industry) but they truly didn’t get this right. Where was she abused? In your early 20′s, you are still haunted by the things that happened to you over the past several years, and sometimes still depressed over them as you are trying to grow up and figure yourself out and figure out how to move past what are probably the first several horrible things that happen to you in your life up until that point. I saw in Tiff, a woman who was very young and still a bit sad over those negative events, but who was getting over that and becoming wiser for it as she took charge of her life and was developing into a mature young adult. She was WAY wiser than the other young woman in her class who was basically just accepting the sexual coming-on from the college professor, and Tiff used her intelligence and strength to stick up for her. 

Tiff also mentions in her class to her psychology professor, that role-play can be healthy and therapeutic. You could see her struggling on the inside with how awful he ran the class and how little he understood compared to how much she did in her young age. This is common among people in the BDSM lifestyle. We rarely have therapists who can assist us with life’s troubles when it comes to discussing kink aspects, because there is no education out there that they are taught about alternative lifestyles. BDSM and fetish has for years, been misdiagnosed in text books as a sickness, and sadly, was only recently changed. We all felt her pain, I am sure, as she struggled through being in this class. 

Her client Fred, tells Pete who is now going by “Carter” that he tells his friends about what he does at dungeons with Mistresses. Pete seemed shocked by this, but Fred says “Why not? There’s nothing wrong with what I do” or something along those lines. This is not only something that people really do (telling their friends about this secret), but something that is becoming more popular and accepted. A couple I see told all of their friends that they have their Dominatrix (me) in their phone along with all of the other important things they need in their life such as their lawyer, their doctor and their gardener. A sub of mine and his partner both go and see Mistresses and talk about it, they’ve even gone together. Fred, despite being portrayed as somewhat goofy and weird, is giving the viewers a line that I feel is very important and that is for people to just have more acceptance, despite what they feel is weird or do not quite understand.

Tiff is a total bitch to Carter a lot of the time and really pressured him to do crazy things in the show, which he was initially very uncomfortable with such as making fun of Fred’s small penis. The BDSM community felt this was an awful representation of a Mistress. However, we are telling the story off Tiff and Pete. Tiff and Pete have history and Tiff and Pete know one another very well. We are not showing every dominatrix in the show treating people like garbage. Pete does stick up for himself eventually and says “you can’t treat me like you did in high school.” I also think that Pete needed to be pushed to do these things. He gets so happy when he rips Fred apart and sees how fun it could be to make fun of his penis, and he was on a roll with it grinning, and when he finally was able to pee on him he was thrilled as well and yelled happily “I’m peeing!” Tiff smiles as if she knew all along that he would enjoy this. This is actually, what professional Mistresses often do, when they know people really well, push them to trying something they are afraid of but that we know they would truly enjoy. At the end of the show, he wants to be her 50/50 partner, and do sessions with her as an equal. So her pushing him, was definitely something I saw that she knew he needed and that he would enjoy this. It also got him out of his rut with stand-up comedy and made him more fearless and happy, while also greatly inspiring his actual stand-up material. He was able to be brave with Tiff while dominating men along side of her and trying things he was afraid of, which helped him in other aspects of his life. THIS IS WHAT BDSM OFTEN DOES FOR PEOPLE. 

What I didn’t like and do agree with everyone on, is that every client of hers was shown mostly negatively. Fred, while nice, is shown as goofy and weird. The first episode shows this giant groaning animalistic-man with no explanation of what is going on. The slave who comes by and cleans for her is in love with her and very rudely invades her date, not respecting her boundaries. A man who wrestles Pete in a session while dressed as a Penguin is a total jerk. The last client is a psychopath who tries to hurt her. The husband of the couple she sees gets punched in the face by his wife in order for him to be tickled, and both of them don’t seem to be very happy or healthy in their relationship with one another in that sense. While it was a very short show and you cannot show everything, I felt it still would have been better to mix in more positivity and people who don’t seem so flawed and messed up. It paints the picture that all of our clients are going to be totally nuts. This is not the case. Yes, we do get some crazy people but so does every job. That is not what goes down all of the time. 

Tiff presents to the college psych class, her dominatrix self and explains what she does for a living and while we do not see it, we are assuming that she gets a chance to tell them how healthy engaging in role-play and BDSM is, something her jerk professor told her the opposite of several episodes ago. I also did this exact same presentation in my human sexuality class, and like her, I had every person in the class interested, delighted, and wanting to know more. I enjoyed this because it showed that people are more interested than we realize, more kinky than we realize and we should not have as much wrongful stigmas and shame associated with something that is actually very healthy and healing. 

Other inaccurate things to add while they just came to me: No one wears dominatrix attire walking outside to the door of the person you are seeing at their home or hotel. You always change when you get there. This would bring unwanted attention and mortify your client. They would probably send you away and never see you again. She has a talk with Carter at her home where she ties up his hands. She doesn’t actually do a bondage tie. She could have learned an easy bondage wrist to wrist tie (a column tie) in about 5 minutes and easily done that on camera while acting as there’s just not much thinking to it once you know what to do. There are a few other instances, that I am sure that I am not thinking of off of the top of my head. No one working at a commercial dungeon would have been in their own pretty big apartment in New York City as that would have been extremely difficult to afford on a young dominatrix salary. Everyone of us had at least one room mate. If she did manage to afford it, she likely had financial assistance from her parents while going to school. 

Accurate things about the show. She is a young lady trying to figure herself out, as are most women are at her age, and are most young commercial dungeon Mistresses. A staff of people at a dungeon would love to be an audience to a friend’s practice stand-up routine. We often hung out with friends of staff and happily assisted them with projects if we had the time. We are all, after all, human beings and nice people. Commercial dungeons often have clients who do not respect boundaries and will wrongfully put their hands on Mistresses where they do not belong. We were often kicking out said rude men, just like in the first 30 seconds of the show. Commercial dungeons also do often entertain a vast range of fetishes and role-plays. Penguin suit wrestling isn’t far-fetched or hard to believe. 

The inaccuracies make me wonder if this entire story on Netflix was just made up and only influenced by the creator having a dominatrix best friend who he sometimes hung around, or if it was mostly real somehow. Regardless, these aspects irked my colleagues due to the fact that we are just always misrepresented in everything we do that has ever appeared on television and in movies. Only the show BILLIONS which actually hired my incredible colleague Mistress Troy Orleans to teach the actor and actress how a real BDSM relationship would go (GREAT JOB TROY, IF YOU ARE READING THIS). Troy had gotten me hired as a consultant and performer for a very large Miami based event for famous photographer Steven Klein for his FETISH exhibit, so that way the photographer didn’t have to be humiliated over having a completely wrong representation of what fetish and domination is and give an authentic show. We all feel that Netflix still could have kept the humor, storyline and quirks that made the show pretty great, but could have been way more accurate by consulting an experienced New York city dominatrix or former experienced New York City dominatrix. There are so many of us, and we would have happily given advice and bondage lessons. I personally have been asked to speak at book signings, given speeches and so on. Many of us have done this. Many people were very upset because Mistress May, the fictional character was given a twitter handle to promote the show, whereas real-life dominatrices are fighting every single day to not get our accounts shut down, shadow-banned because of bad social stigma about what we do. It’s not Mistress May’s fault of course, and I do sympathize with my fellow sex workers on this. In one sense, I am glad that the show came out, because it gave us a chance to voice our opinions over our struggles and hopefully lead to some future changes taking place, as many news articles were using the angry tweets and blog posts of my friends and peers to show the world that we are treated unfairly. 

A wrongful fact that I keep seeing all over the internet is people freaking out because apparently she is supposed to be the best dominatrix in NYC but she can’t tie a wrist tie and has 1 pair of boots and 2 outfits. They are taking this out of context. The dungeon manager tells the client booking the outcall that she is “the best in the city.” She’s a commercial dungeon Mistress and probably a fairly good one that they have, being she lives in her own NYC apartment by herself. She might be their top earner. Are there independent Mistresses with 20 years experience who would blow her out of the water? Of course, but he is calling a commercial dungeon and they are selling her for the session, she is THEIR staff. She might be THEIR top Mistress. So you have to realize that this is where the line of reference is coming from. 

At the end of the day, I genuinely liked the show. I feel that many aspects about the show were done purposely for storyline and humor. Mistress May not having much of a wardrobe, and her corset not fitting quite right, I believe were to purposely show how young she was, same with her doing something stupid such as being tempted with money to go to the residence of someone for a session who is out to harm her. At least that is how I took it. She’s young and while she is intelligent in some ways, her youth is against her and flaws her/gets her into trouble. 

I thought the show was comical, despite not being so accurate, and it definitely nostalgically brought me back to my 20′s and being a NYC dominatrix just a bit. If there is a season 2, I only hope that for the small details, they keep a professional Mistress on hand, as they would earn so much more respect from the (literal) millions of us kinky people out there. I personally could give them a million accurate easy ideas to add based on their storyline which would have been very effective. Other than that, I am happy to see a Season 2 and I believe that people who it angered should re-watch Season 1 later and look at it through fresh eyes. 

It definitely makes me wonder if the book I am writing would be worth a show one day?

[lingersinshadows-blog]

When it comes to rape and consent in DnD it really needs to be discussed more.

This is a summary of my experience with my character being raped by deception and without my consent in an all-women DnD online campaign and some of the fallout that followed. 

Warning: Some swearing, discussion of rape obviously along with mentions of depression, thoughts of self-harm and suicide as well as possible spoilers for The Curse of Strahd under the cut.

To start out with, I want to stress that despite everything, I'm willing to give my former Dungeon Master the benefit of doubt. This was her first campaign and I don’t think she realized at the time that what happened was indeed a form of roleplay rape. To my knowledge, she continues to believe she has done no wrong.

Still, what happened was a big and horrible mistake. It’s one I’m more than willing to forgive. So, out of respect for everyone involved, no names will be mentioned here and I will refuse to say who was all involved even in private. 

I just… I just need to rant about this and get this out of my damn fucking system. 

That sinking feeling. 

When I started to realize what had happened to my character, I waffled back and forth about it. This was done with little grace in my distress. At the very least, I knew right away this was a huge violation of my trust. I went to bed, after that final session, absolutely dazed. During the next day at work, it was a constant struggle not to cry about it as the shock wore off. 

I kept asking myself, “Was this truly a form of character rape? Why do I want to keep crying about this? Am I just being too sensitive? Why would she do this? Is rape in DnD normal-acceptable? I told her I did not want something like this to happen, should I speak up? Should I express my feelings about this at all? Will she help me find a way that will make it bearable to continue this campaign? Will she care enough to apologize for at least triggering and hurting my feelings inadvertently? Or will this just start a huge argument that will endanger my friendship with her and the others?” 

Ignorance is not bliss in the long run.

I did consent to have my character have sex with Vasili on the road to Vallaki. I had even enjoyed what had happened and wrote up the smut for it, upon the DM’s suggestion. 

I was perfectly okay, that is until the deception was revealed. 

Slut shame me and my character all you want. Scrutinize me and my character’s every moment of behavior to try and vilify it. Yes, I was a new player and my character at times was a flirty and annoying little shit. Regardless, my character and I still didn’t deserve to have this happen to us.

At the time I didn't even know the term for it. All I knew was at that last session, I was left feeling blindsided, tricked and my trust in my DM also friend utterly shattered. 

Before we go any further...

Here's some information about the form of rape that occurred, what consent means, why it’s unacceptable to rape someone’s character without their consent in any roleplay setting and who is Vasili/Strahd:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_by_deception

https://www.plannedparenthood.org/learn/sex-and-relationships/sexual-consent

https://www.gamegrene.com/node/447 (See "Disguised" rape, 2. Deception)

https://www.reddit.com/r/CurseofStrahd/comments/8zornf/a_guide_to_vasili_von_holtz_strahds_alter_ego/  (Warning: Major Spoilers)

What happened?

To put it simply: Vasili von Holtz, my character's brief lover, transformed into Count Strahd von Zarovich before all of us players. 

That might not sound like much. But to make things perfectly clear, moments before my character thought he had bedded a rather affectionate minor human noble who worked as a tax collector for Lord Strahd. He and the rest of us had zero clue that Vasili and Strahd were one and the same. I did not agree and could not even agree to have my character bed Strahd because my character and I were unaware of the truth.

In fact, at the very start of the campaign, when the DM jokingly stated she wanted Lord Strahd to fuck my character I told her in no uncertain terms did I want that to happen. I later repeated that sentiment in a private message to her again and she even confirmed she understood. I trusted the DM completely to respect this one boundary. After all, we had been friends for nearing a decade. She also knew I was a survivor of sexual assault and domestic abuse and that if this was crossed it could trigger me severely and it did! It actually drove me to suicidal thoughts and self-harm.

As soon as the DM had Strahd drop the Vasili disguise, in a scared small voice I asked, "Did [My Character’s Name] really fuck Strahd? Does this mean he fucked Strahd?”

“Yes!” I was eventually told in exasperation by the DM. All since I was pestering away about it in between everyone’s comments of shock over Vasili’s true identity. 

Still processing I then asked, “Wait… does this mean [My Character’s Name] was raped by Strahd?"

I was told no and pretty much, don't be ridiculous as I reeled in disgust and self-loathing. Yeah, I was gaslighted-unintentionally as none of us really heard of this kind of rape before. I only managed to speculate it might have occurred as I felt completely horrified.

Blindsided and Triggered.

What happened is called rape by deception also known as a "disguised" rape. And the sad thing is with a character like Strahd who can trick players with his Vasili alter ego, I can see this easily happening again to some other poor player due to a DM’s woeful ignorance.

It’s not a commonly known form of rape, or even recognized as rape in some states and countries. It’s why I had to research it while fighting back tears, shaking hands and a sick feeling in my stomach. It’s also not a violent form of rape but still extremely psychologically damaging. Legally various real-life examples can fall into a complicated grey area. Ethically however it is not as victims quietly suffer while our legal system slowly catches up. Any kind of rape roleplay without prior consent of all parties involved is frowned upon in the DnD community. It’s, in fact, one of the top three Cardinal Sins of GMing.

Strahd in this circumstance misrepresented himself to our entire party and therefore he misrepresented himself to my character. Again, this robbed me from even being able to give fully informed consent to permit my character to be raped. I say Strahd instead of the DM because again, I feel she didn’t realize this was a form of sexual assault to my character at the time. If she had known I’m sure she would not have let it happen. 

Her defense as to why it did happen was she could not tell me it was Strahd at the time and that to deny me smut with Vasili she worried would anger me. I can understand the former but not the latter because, before that moment, I had told her repeatedly I enjoyed fluff more. That I was okay with waiting to write up smut as I enjoyed the dance of drama already with Ismark even if it had not resulted in smut. So why not tell my character to wait just a bit? Have Vasili flirt with him more or snuggle or whatever instead? I would have been okay with that, I thought everyone knew I was an absolute cuddle bug by now.

At first, I tried to make light of it. I posted a few puking gifs when I found out. So mature, right? But we often posted gifts in the general chat during our sessions for laughs and to lighten a grim mood. 

Yes, I tried to laugh it off. I have an “either you laugh or you cry” philosophy and I really hate crying. At one point briefly, I tried to open my mind to the possibility that I would like my character's rapist since he was going to join our team. I did, after all, like Vasili. It's why my character pounced him when the DM asked me if I wanted to and gave me the green light to write the smut for it up. I even poorly joked and commented on how I wanted to hate-fuck Strahd. 

I did all that as I struggled to deny what really happened. I did it in a desperate effort to cope. I tried to pretend everything was okay but it wasn't. I was a hot mess. Worse, those very actions and the words “hate-fuck Strahd” were used against me later to argue that what happened was not character rape and I was acting insane. 

No, I was triggered then retriggered when the DM started to victim-blame me in a private chat.

Self-harm

The self-harm I settled upon was breaking my sobriety. I try not to drink alone anymore or have more than three if drinking socially. I didn’t have work the next day and so I got wasted on vodka and like a distressed impatient fool, I drunk dialed the DM once. 

The first time I called her I was extremely upset but not yelling at her-no yelling at all. Instead during both voicemails, I left it took everything not to sob into my phone in my clumsy efforts to seek reassurance that we could fix this. That everything was going to be okay. Maybe what happened I could work through somehow or we could just adjust things so that my character only made out with Vasili and I can mind bleach the smut I had written.

I got chewed out the next day for acting unhinged and calling so late. The latest I called her was at  9:16 pm her time, 8:16 pm mine, but I forgot about how she needed to be up very early the next day and that was just the start of it.

The worst part.

She next commented on how creepy the abuse my character suffered in the past was and that she was sick of me bringing it up. I apologized and offered to dull the edge to his background. At this point, I was also raw and on my last olive branch. I felt the wounded party in all this and yet more than willing to try and work with her with an apology after apology. All in an effort to make everyone including her more comfortable. 

I made one last suggestion that I could roleplay with the team and he admits to lying about some aspects of his past in order to gain more pity. Mostly his occasional prostitution. He would admit that he was never a sex worker and how the whip scars on his back were not from his last client but from mouthing off to a noble. That idea was rejected with no input back as to what would make her or others feel more comfortable. 

Given her responses were partly in full on caps I had serious doubts, she would work with me at all to try to reach a compromise or accommodate my feelings in any way. Emotionally spent and at a complete loss of what to do next, I decided to leave the campaign. I roleplayed him out in an effort to reclaim him and sooth some of my hurt over the entire matter. At that point, I felt so worthless thoughts of suicide crossed my mind briefly as I wrote the scene up.  

Out of self-preservation, I stopped speaking with the DM. In fact, I blocked her as much as possible. With some social media, I had no choice but to defriended her do to the mechanics. This lasted for around twenty-four hours before I was made aware of some shocking misunderstandings through another player still in the campaign. During that period of blocking her, I’ll admit I was ready to cut my losses. That’s how deeply this cut. I just didn't want to argue anymore or risk receiving any more painful messages from her that would set me off again. I felt like my feelings were completely and utterly belittled and dismissed. At the very least, I needed some serious space and time to calm down. When we eventually chated in Messanger about a week later I thought we could clear up these misunderstandings and work on solutions. 

I apologized for my behavior and hurting her feelings. I explained why I had blocked her and my understanding of what happened. No apology for triggering me or raping my character was ever offered. She in fact, outright declared she would not. I did not ask. 

She also confirmed I would not be allowed back. Which honestly at that point I was more than okay with given the complete disregard of my one boundary AND my character raped without my permission. My trust in her was now only damaged further by her complete lack of remorse. Lastly, her entire approach felt like an attack on my bad behavior and me personally rather than address the true issue as to why I left. 

She proceeded to gloat that the campaign was better off without me and that everyone was glad that I was gone. She then accused me that I had broken a boundary of hers too and referred me to a specific date in our private chat in Discord. I looked and looked but could only find a mention about that regarding posting after she ended a role-play session was a big no-no. To my knowledge, I only did this once. If I had done it again I could only guess it was when I had my character roleplay his escape. I asked her to please clarify, she refused.

If anything, the conversation confirmed I had made the right decision in removing myself from a situation and a person who would only continue to threaten my sobriety and mental health. Yet I am still saddened by this result. It has created at least one possible permanent estrangement with upwards of two more who I thought were my friends. 

I now somewhat understand her defensiveness. Her absolute denial and unwillingness to budge or apologize. Nobody would want to own up to that kind of serious mistake, even if they could have pleaded ignorance. I get that. Still, what she said to me privately after was unnecessary and hurtful. If her goal was to push me away it worked. 

I am gone.

But before that, I had tried to learn from my mistakes I made at the start of the campaign. I genuinely thought my efforts were noticed.

I really didn’t want to leave. I had zero problems with my character falling in battle to Strahd himself or being tortured. But blindsided by character rape then later told repeatedly by the DM that I had brought this upon myself, that my character and I were the ones acting like a creep, that I wanted to erp with the DM and I was treating her and all of the NPCs like sex objects um… wow. 

My character was the creepy one, really? My character who had a panic attack and cried out for help when this same DM had an NPC servant girl strip naked and proceeded have her rub against him? A servant who, to my knowledge, wasn’t even free to give consent because, if anyone complained about her service she could be beaten? 

Yeah, fuck this shit, I’m out.

I’m guilty of wanting fluff and to, later on, write up my own smut. All of it, pretty damn vanilla and consensual and believe it or not I only wanted it with Ismark! Even if Ismark was old fashion my poly minded character and boring old me were willing to settle for cuddles, holding hands and kisses until that cinnamon bun was ready with the DM’s green light to write the smut. I also wanted to help my team and if that meant helping an NPC get a letter to her family or telling another about a painting of his sister to hopefully secure labor and allies then so be it. 

I also did NOT want to erp with the DM. Now if fluff is a part of the erp umbrella, well fuck. I am sorry, I didn’t know that!

My character admittedly was an equivalent to an annoying horny eighteen year old who was itching to have casual sex. That by the way, became his flaw. Yet deep down he wanted intimacy and love. Having a rough upbringing on the streets he struggled sometimes to understand finer social graces. 

Yes, he and I did make mistakes but we did learn from them. I naively thought the other players understood that. I also thought they knew of the differences between what I wanted and what my character wanted. Most of all I would-could keep my character under control when it came to sex. 

Looking back, I’m starting to think I was too easy-going in adding suggestions to my character from other players. I think it bit me in the ass as his occasional prostitution I feel was fixated on a little too much for my tastes as it seemed to eclipse other aspects of his past. I should have spoken up more and put my foot down.

I really don’t know if the two of us became a dreaded chaotic neutral hot mess. I honestly don’t know. In my head, in the end, I thought I was having him at most come off as a very stressed out and understandably troubled by the Mists talking away in his head. Yet deep down his heart was in the right place. He valued the truth. He choose to be honest with Ismark even though he knew it could drive him away for good.

He did NOT deserve this kind of drama or me.

Why did I decide to post all of this? 

To start to heal. To stop silently screaming in my head over the horror of it all and then the skepticism and hostility I faced when I dared to speak up. Just writing this all down helped immensely. It’s one more step to putting that pain down instead of carrying it around with me. I can refer to this and other bits if I ever need to in the future.

Before this happened I honestly didn't think character rape in DnD was a huge problem. I also thought I was completely safe playing with my friends and all girls too who carried old wounds of their own. 

But it still happened all because of ignorance.

So I’m sharing this experience in the hopes to find others who have been through something similar. 

To help DMs realize they should avoid this pitfall when dealing with the deception that is Vasili. 

To let any fellow players know they are not crazy for getting upset if a DM tries or has raped their character without their consent. 

Your feelings are still valid even if your entire party and the DM disagrees. Most of all you don’t need their approval to know what happened was wrong and unacceptable.

Prostitute or priest, nobody deserves to have their character raped without there consent. 

Nobody.