#i have thoughts on the theme of parents' hopes/wishes for their children

[adaptive-radiation]

Youth by Glass Animals is one of my new favourite songs 

[moncharrow]

𓆩⚝˚‧no room for the holy spirit ♱꙳˚₊‧

a/n: finally it's here! been screaming into the void abt this one for... ever. a thousand thank yous to @thirsting-over-women who proofread this for me :>> my savior actually. if the religious themes offend you (whether you are religious or have trauma) i encourage you not to read, maybe check out my other works instead :D

content/warnings: 4,500 words, preachers daughter!ellie x fem!reader, nsfw, reader wears a skirt, semipublic/car sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), reader's first wlw experience, sexual awakening?, religious motif, christian themes, mild religious guilt throughout, mentions of religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, ellie smokes a lil, she's a bit mean, fuckin in a church parking lot

The pressures of being a teenage girl were hard enough without the pressures of being a gay teenage girl. Being a gay teenage girl was hard enough without the pressures of being the daughter of a fucking preacher. Ellie had never really bought into the whole 'organized religion' thing, ever the skeptic. Even as a puny 8-year-old, she asked why she had to wake up early every Sunday for something she didn't even like doing. Her attitude didn't change much after that, but her parents got stricter and stricter in an attempt to control her sacrilege. She didn't spend much time with her family, instead seeking familial bonds at school, especially with her mechanics teacher, Mr. Miller. But, you know what they say:

Strict parents raise sneaky children.

And it's true. If Ellie's dad knew what she was doing outside the holy walls of the ministry, he'd have an aneurysm and have her exorcised. But, she always thought, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

You were the opposite. Raised the same as Ellie, you took to religion and fully participated, though mostly out of obligation. Just go every week for an hour and your family will leave you alone. This tactic, for the most part, worked. Your traditional family had their rough moments, specifically when they mocked the outfits you'd wanted to wear to service and called you some... unsavory names. But if you could avoid any similar incident, any clash with authority, you were taking the holy road.

On the outside, you were the purest of people. There was never a bad or dirty thought in your mind. You were a pillar of the community, someone that parents pointed out to their kids. "Be like them," they'd say. Your parents were proud, so you should've been proud. Should've.

You and Ellie had grown up quite close due to being in similar social groups and seeing each other every week at service. Since then, you'd grown apart as you took different paths in life, though you still felt a sense of commitment toward her; So when she cursed out her father in front of the clergy, your eyes widened.

"You fucking dick! You don't know shit about anything! You use all this- this... bullshit- as a crutch so you don't have to own up to your own baggage!"

As she stormed out, you silently move from your spot in the choir, doe eyes shining in the bath of stained glass light, and shuffle up to the front of the room.

"Father, if I may, I would like to go check on your daughter." You're a model fixture, a saint.

"Of course, my child. I hope someday she'll be more like you. I pray that-" You shuffle off again, not wanting to hear about how he wishes his daughter was different. He really wishes his child hid who she was, you think bitterly. You admired Ellie's rebellion, though you'd never say it, and you wished you were as strong as her.

You walk away from the church to the little park you and Ellie used to go to. Your memories flood with nostalgia for simpler times, and you smile to yourself, pleasantly strolling through the large trees and foliage and looking for the rough girl. You find her crouching against a tree, squatting with her head between her legs.

Is she crying?

"... Ellie? Are you alright?" You whisper, not wanting to startle her.

You notice Ellie tense up before quickly standing up and whipping around to face you, a hand behind her back. "Oh! It's... you. Hey. Aren't you s'posed to be inside?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you. That was intense in there."

"Mhm, I'm good. Just needed some, ah, fresh air. Y'know?" She sounds a little too jolly, weirdly chipper. It's suspicious.

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "Whatcha got there?" You point to whatever she's trying to conceal.

She knows she's been caught. Her attitude suddenly shifts from faux-innocence to her usual snarky persona as she rolls her eyes, leaning against the tree and revealing what she had. She brings her hand up to her lips. "Nothing."

"Ellie!" You shriek. "You can't do that! Where'd you even get a cigarette?"

She laughs as if you'd said the funniest thing imaginable. "You think this is a cigarette? Are you stupid? No offense. But are you stupid?"

You scoff. "No! I mean, you're smoking it. What else am I supposed to guess?"

"A blunt, idiot. Kush. Mary Jane. Weed. Ma-ri-jua-na." She spells out for you like you're a toddler.

You cross your arms defensively. "Okay, I know what weed is, smart guy. You still shouldn't have it. Where's it from?"

"Stole it. I just wanted to see why people liked it so much. They say it relieves stress, and I think yes." Ellie grins lazily, eyes lidded. "I got another. You want?"

The answer to your question only makes you freak out more. "No! And you stole?! You stole? Oh my goodness, Ellie, you're gonna get us thrown in jail or something!"

Ellie wordlessly watches your breakdown, eyes red and amused, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Relax, man, it's barely illegal. Who's calling the cops for a single gram? Don't be lame like that."

"Lame?" You scoff. "Are you a first grader? Ellie, it's against the law, you could go to prison. And it's not juvie anymore, you're gonna go to real jail!" Your hands flail around wildly as you explain the repercussions of her actions.

"Jail..." She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, jail! That's kinda what happens when you steal something, Ellie!" The high-pitched, prissy tone with which you said her name was starting to annoy her, but the way you looked when flustered was intriguing. Maybe in another context, she'd enjoy hearing her name fall from your lips.

Ellie takes another hit, looking up at you. She tilts her head, asking if you're being serious. "Jail? Over a single blunt? Who cares that much?"

You gasp when you realize: "I'm an accomplice!"

"You're not an accessory just because you're here." She chuckles as the wind blows past and carries her smoke near your head as you duck dramatically and swat away the smoke. She looks at you for a moment, slightly smiling. Her green eyes meet yours briefly before turning her attention back to the joint.

"Why are you using it anyway? It smells rancid."

"Already told you. I wanna know why people do it. It relieves stress and I'm plenty stressed. Plus, I look dope as shit with it, right?" Ellie leans against the tree, and a small part of you wants to say yeah, you do. "You should try it. Maybe get that stick out of your ass."

"You're gonna get addicted."

"God, it's just this once. What are you gonna do, tell my dad?" She chuckles to herself, taking a long drag.

She checks you out, head to toe, examining the flowy fabrics and neat hair and the Mary Jane shoes that drive her crazy. Who wears those? Her gaze returns to meet yours, and she looks utterly dumbfounded by you. Your eyebrows furrow as you see how her expression changes. "What's that look for?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. You're just so robotic. It's like you never think about stepping the teensiest bit out of line. It's creepy. You've never had an independent thought in your life. Have you ever done anything even remotely rebellious?"

You make a noise that seems to say Well why would I? "No! Of course not! And you shouldn't either, I mean look at your dad, he's-"

Her voice raises, a tone you've never heard and don't care to hear again. "-My father? You mean the preacher?" She mocks. "What about him? You don't know anything about my father." Ellie's look hardens, eyes steely and mouth pursed into a thin line. It's a look you've seen maybe twice before, both in much more tense situations. Her voice says that you can't change her mind. You don't care to try. Whatever she's referencing, you believe her.

"Okay. Okay... sorry." You say gently, losing the defensive energy you'd held a moment ago. Ellie sighs and takes an irritated puff. To relax, you think.

"And you always apologize. It's so weird. You need to loosen up a bit." Another long, somehow sarcastic hit. "What's the worst thing you've *ever* done?"

An embarrassing, very private thought crosses your mind. You obviously can't tell her what you think about at night- you're barely able to admit to yourself that you have such impure thoughts. Instead, you shake your head. "Can't- I can't think of anything."

You watch her forest green eyes roll up, then down. It's a very familiar expression on her. "Thought so." She grins up at you, and you look away into the treeline nervously. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"Is it... illegal?"

"No. Don't worry about that." She motions for you to come closer, so you take a tentative step forward, eyeing her like a wild animal. She hates the way you look at her, making her feel alien. Just because she lives authentically. It makes her want to ruin you, to have you stoop down to her level. Then maybe you won't look at her as if she were extraterrestrial.

You need an attitude adjustment, you need to chill the fuck out, you needed to get fucked, and hard. Ellie thinks she can help you with that.

She grins that toothy smirk as she watches you step closer, taking a puff and placing the blunt between her slender fingers. She doesn't miss the way your eyes trail the two long fingers that hold it. You wonder if she's doing this on purpose.

Ellie backs you up against a tree, and you recognize it as the same old oak that you would climb with her as kids. The branches and bark have left scars on you that Ellie helped you heal. She wonders how they look now.

Your back hits the trunk with an unceremonious thump, and you startle. Ellie keeps walking toward you, now getting uncomfortably close. "Uh- so what are we..." You trail off, thinking she'll explain what she's doing right in your face. She doesn't.

Her arm raises, trapping you between the tree and her body as she studies you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, but feels incredibly electric at the same time- it's a sensation you've only felt around her, though you don't know why. She takes another hit and you nervously look away.

She tilts your jaw back to look at her. You have to face her pretty green eyes, unwavering as she stares you down, while you sneak glances just to check if she's still there. Your breath speeds up when she leans closer.

Ellie puts her stupid pink slightly chapped adorable smiling lips near the base of your neck.

"What are you doing?" You say breathlessly. You swear that you feel her ghosting over your skin, so close, yet not as close as you want her. Maybe if you lean in...

Before you can, she breathes out her smoke, lightly trailing her lips down your neck. Her tongue comes out to prod at the skin, tasting you. You whine. The smoke envelops the two of you, and your nose crinkles at the foul smell. You look down to chastise her but she's already looking at you with those eyes and that cheeky look. No matter what you say next to defend yourself, you know you're caught, that Ellie knows she's affected you. It's in your eyes, the way you've seized up so tightly, how you look at her like you can't wait to see what she does next.

She presses a chaste kiss on your collarbone and you crane your neck upward. You're not sure if you're trying to get away or if you're giving her more access. She pulls away and you find yourself leaning forward to try to get her back on you.

"Is that the most rebellious thing you've ever done?" She chuckles, taking another drag and blowing it over you, bathing you in the white haze. "You like being treated like that, huh?"

You shiver. "I don't get it," you say dumbly. You've never been this confused.

"What don't you get? I just think it's fun to make you squirm." She thinks you've had enough and blows her next exhale away from you. "I wanna corrupt you, sweetheart." It sounds derogatory coming from her but you find that you don't mind the tone. The spot Ellie had made contact with feels as if it's burning. You crave for that feeling all over your body.

You stammer over your words, pathetically unable to spit out any sort of coherent reaction to her. Any reaction would be better to tripping over your words. Fed up with trying to sound like a person, you decide to stop talking.

"You enjoyed that huh? Admit it." She inhales and repeats her action. "Makes you feel hot inside."

"What? No- no, are you insane?" The sane part of you is telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Ellie fucking Williams of all people. She's everything you aren't- she's rude and snarky and devilish... and tall and strong and hot. Oh shit! The batshit insane part of you is slowly melting the angel on your shoulder, and you can basically see the little devil cackling as you feel yourself straying further from the good girl persona you'd cultivated. You feel your heartbeat in your pants.

Ellie begins to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at your jaw and collarbone. This time, you're acutely aware that you're actively giving her access to do as she pleases with you. "Maybe I'm insane, but I can tell. You did like it. And if you deny, I'll do it again until you tell the truth."

"Well I didn't, so you can forget about-"

She places her thumb on your lower lip as you start your tirade, effectively shutting you up. "Too late." Ellie leans in and before you know it, her lips are on yours. Her arm snakes around the back of your waist and pulls you as close to her as you've ever been. That warm feeling flushes down your body, leaving chills across your skin. More. All you can think is that you want more. Your hands come up to grip her shoulders, you almost want to push her away, but you find yourself pulling her closer and closer. No room for the Holy Spirit.

Ellie pulls away, smugly looking down at you. "Told you you liked it."

"I didn't say that." You were being a contrarian on purpose at this point. Anything to keep Ellie treating you like this- you wanted to prolong this moment for however long you could. She hoists you up, bringing you out of the park and into the back of the parking lot. She throws you into the backseat of her beaten pickup and crawls atop you with darkened eyes.

You squeal in surprise. "El-lie!"

She continues to kiss you, making you wetter by the second. The heat pooling in your panties is so fucking embarrassing, but you find that you don't care how humiliating this is. You just want more.

"Els, what if someone sees?"

She scoffs as if the idea is preposterous; as if the prospect of getting caught is impossible. "Nobody can see us, and they won't leave until later. Don't stress about it." Ellie bites her lip and it makes your body get hot flushes. "I can do whatever I want to you. But you know what? I think you'd let me. Is that right?"

"...Maybe." Read: Yes, yes, anything! She leans down, placing her hand on the back of your neck and pulling your head closer up towards her. Her hand forces your legs apart further to allow her access. The way she lays on your inner thighs, atop your clothed core, makes you feel lightheaded. You love the way she manhandles you, and it's exactly how you thought she'd be. Every time she adjusts her position, your clit rubs against her and sends jolts of electricity up your body.

"I knew it. You're not as perfect as you try to be. You're dirty."

You want to deny it, you really do, but the evidence is clear. You're disheveled under her, lips swollen from hers, and she's pulling your panties to your ankles and shoving them in her jacket pocket, yet you're ashamed to say that you don't feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Despite how excited you are for whatever is about to happen, you're still incredibly nervous. This is the most physically vulnerable you've ever been with another person, and the fact that you're completely bare under your skirt makes your stomach flip.

Your face must betray your emotions because Ellie momentarily softens. She pulls her hands away from your hips and cups your face, peppering kisses across your cheeks and up to your forehead, making you laugh lightly. "You alright? We can stop."

"No... please don't." Her face lights up.

"Sorry, say that again?" You roll your eyes and she chuckles. "I knew you were like this. Not so pure now, huh?"

"Guess not."

"So you admit it?"

"...Fine. Yes."

Ellie sighs in relief as if her thirst were quenched- that's what she's been wanting to hear from you forever. She could see it in the way you snuck glances at her during mass, finding your wandering, hungry eyes from across the room. She could feel it in the way your hand lingered on her a little too long to be friendly, your touch suspiciously light, like if you touched her any harder you'd start to tremor.

But now, there's no semblance of the timid person you'd been. When Ellie pulls away, your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her back in. You're insatiable, and Ellie fucking loves it. She tugs at the bottom of your sweater. "Pull that fucking thing off. Show me those pretty tits." Her breath becomes heavy as you oblige and become needier. "Did you know you were this easy?" She teases.

"What? I'm- I'm not." Everything she says feels designed to evoke the biggest reaction from you. She keeps you on your toes, never letting you get too comfortable. How exciting.

"So it's just for me then?" You don't answer, and it excites Ellie to know that she's right. This reaction is purely for her. Nobody else has seen you like this, and she's grateful to be the one who gets to corrupt you. It really didn't take much effort. "You're so easy to control."

Her hands drift back to your thighs, sliding under your skirt, her lips press to your jawline. Hot breath trails along your neck, down further to your collarbone. Her fingers slide over your inner thighs, sensitive skin rippling as she applies light pressure, testing how reactive you are. You twitch, unwittingly opening your legs more and giving Ellie more access. "You look good like this, though."

Ellie's fingers dig into you, grasping the flesh of your ass and moaning softly into your ear. Her thumbs are on either side of where you desperately need her, and your hips buck up into her, seeking her touch. "Knew you had a nice ass, too."

"Shut up." You mumble.

"Why would I? You like it when I say things like that, don't you? You wouldn't be this drenched if you didn't." She swipes the pad of her thumb over your clit and applies delicious pressure. You nearly cum on the spot.

Is this what you've been missing? This pleasure, this euphoria? Ellie grins at your reaction, drinking in your desperation for her like a succubus. "Aw, sensitive little pussy. Haven't you touched yourself like this before?"

You had, a few times, actually, but it never went this far, deep-rooted guilt gnashing in your stomach and ending the moment before you'd been able to finish. After admitting this, she coos at you. "Poor baby." Her tone is so condescending, but it makes you clench around the tip of her fingers.

She slides the first knuckle of two fingers past your entrance, pumping them in and out painfully slowly. "Ellie, you prick. Come on." She continues her ministrations, gently stroking your entrance, never giving you enough to feel remotely satisfied. She uses this time to take in your disheveled, sweaty appearance. Your cute tits bounce as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for Ellie to please you. A bead of sweat rolls down and she can't help but bring her mouth up to lick at it as it slides over your nipple. Her mouth attaches to you and you sigh, holding her closer by her hair. She grins up at you, making eye contact through her lashes. You can see the tip of her tongue poking out, wetting your bud as the cool air nips at you, making you all the more sensitive. Even now, Ellie still hasn't stopped her teasing below.

"Can't call me a prick then beg for me to fuck you. 's not how it works, pretty girl."

"Then what do you want?" You whine.

Ellie can feel your clit flutter and pulse as she moves. "Fuck, you're so desperate for me, aren't you? I want you to tell me how bad y' want me."

"I- I d-" You begin to protest, being cut off with a squeal as Ellie licks a sloppy stripe up your pussy, finally tasting you.

"Don't bullshit me. If I'm gonna fuck you, I needja to be a little more honest with me. I see how you look at me. You been trying to push some thoughts down, huh?"

It was so humiliating how well she could read you. Whenever her tongue came out of her mouth to take communion, your eyes would be trained on the muscle, breath hitching as she would wink at you. Without fail, you would trail your gaze up her body when Ellie walked in with a suit, her way of dressing nicely for service. Always, always, she could feel the heat radiating off your body as she pulled you closer, not taking her eyes off the pastor speaking.

Your thoughts were impure, sinful, and how embarrassing that Ellie knew. You believed you were hiding it well- obviously not.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Ellie's big hands wrap around your thighs, fingers landing on the sensitive skin near your pussy. She looks up at you and you can feel her hot breath on your clit. It takes everything in Ellie to not eat you out immediately, but your embarrassment is too tempting to pass up.

"Tell me about it. You try to fuck yourself thinkin' of me?"

"I do. I- I tried to, at least. Doesn't work."

"Why not, babe? You're so responsive right now." Her fingers find their place back at your entrance, pushing in as you speak.

"I- oh, shit-" You gasp.

Ellie grins. "Talk to me."

"My fingers aren't good enough."

"Ah," she says, "and mine are?" She knows the answer.

"So good."

Ellie likes that she's made you desperate enough that you've abandoned your pride. She enjoys the flush on your face as you shamelessly admit your secrets to her, the good-girl persona a figment of the past.

She's so busy staring up at how your face contorts in pleasure that she doesn't realize that she hasn't moved her fingers in a hot minute. The teasing is torturous for you.

"Ellie," she hears you whine, "Please!" You rut your hips against her fingers and she feels lightheaded. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Got distracted." She smirks. "I'll give you what you want now." Ellie finally moves her fingers, curling them in and out slowly. You groan again and she laughs. "Okay, okay! Sorry." Her face darkens and she bites her lip. "You want me to fuck you? Alright, I'll fuck you."

Ellie's fingers begin to pump inside you, hitting all the spots that make you jump and squirm, and you're sure the rusted heap of a car you're in is about to fall off its chassis. She's going so fast and hard that you're immediately overwhelmed and you don't know where to put your hands. In the span of a minute, they cup your face, a forearm slings over your eyes, and you throw your arms up against the window. Finally, you settle on cupping your cheeks, fingers slit open so you can peer down at Ellie's focus on you.

Her eyes haven't left your pussy since she started. She's absolutely mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, how you seem to suck her fingers back in as she tries to pull out and your body betrays how desperately you want her. Ellie's mouth is slightly agape and she can't help when her tongue flickers out to lick curiously at your clit, wanting to taste you again.

"Fu- fuck!" You yelp, bucking your hips up into her face. Ellie snorts as she watches how you squirm. You can feel something building and though you have an idea of what it is, it's building fast and slightly scaring you. "Wait, Els, hold on a second, something- ah- I think- I think I'm-"

You're nervous about how it creeps up on you so suddenly but you find there isn't time to be self-conscious about it because you cum, and you wonder why God could possibly think that doing this is a sin. How could it be a sin if it felt so right?

You don't know what sound you made or how your face looks, but by the way Ellie looks up at you, it must've been something. Her eyes flicker back down to how your clit pulses as you finish, leaking cum onto her fingers and trailing down her hand. You know what she's fucking thinking because you always do. Before you can form a sentence, she's licking up your cum like it's the best meal she's tasted.

You shudder violently. "Ellie, holy fuck, stop, I'm still sensitive! Oh m- Ellie, come on!" Only when you push her face up does she stop, giving you the cheekiest grin.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back against the car door, panting. The dull ache in your thighs is apparent when you attempt to sit, pulling your panties up and cringing at how your cum pools on them.

Ellie still hasn't said anything. You glance over at her, wondering how she feels about whatever just happened. She's looking down, grey hoodie still pulled up to her elbows, staring at the fingers she'd just fucked you with. She glances up at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. 

“That was hot.” Her hand rubs up and down your thigh, a kind of comfort you’d never received from her. It wasn’t unwelcome.

You don’t quite know how to feel. There are twinges of guilt gnawing at your stomach, that religious guilt creeping in. Had you done something wrong? 

But at the same time, there was a warmth in Ellie’s gaze that made you feel like maybe, it was all worth it. Was it unholy? Almost definitely. But this awakening couldn’t be all bad if she kept looking at you with those soft, fond eyes.

my masterlist...

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[mvltisstuff]

Could i request for a Conrad fisher X reader where reader has a younger sibling who gives her a hard time and her parents favour her younger sibling more. It's the reader's bday on the same day as belly's and her family doesn't get her anything and they don't bother with an excuse either and say they don't really care abt her so it doesn't matter. So Conrad comforts her later and if u don't mind u could include some smut at the end?

(this is my situation rn lololol but without Conrad to comfort me😭)

matilda - c.f

summary: request

conrad fisher x reader

a/n: i’m so sorry love, sorry this is a few days late but you are so loved and appreciated no matter what, hope this makes you happy today <3

it’s been a recurring theme for most of y/n’s life. the overheard quotes about the older sibling had eventually become a reality. they didn’t even wait for y/n to try and live up to them. instead, they just accepted that their daughter wasn’t as good as the rest of their children.

as upsetting as it is, kids experience it too much. y/n experiences it every day, so when she realized it wasn’t normal, that’s when it started to hurt more every year.

this day was supposed to be different. she was so excited, turning 18 and finally being an adult. free of her parents if she wanted to be. she thought that maybe, just maybe, her parents would think of her for a day, and make it about it. alas, the second she woke up and walked into the kitchen, y/n’s hopes were shut down.

“y/n, can you take y/b/n to practice? i’m going out with sharon today,” her mom said, barely even looking at her.

“uh, i’m leaving in a bit, remember?” she speaks, trying to sound as polite as possible. “the fishers invited me over for today.”

“hon, we get it,” her dad talks next, peering up over his glasses and newspaper of the town. “but, to some point, it’s just another day. just do what your mother asked.”

y/n looks at her little siblings at the table, messing around and receiving no repercussions. she still remembers when that was her. playing with her parents, happier than she ever was again. she loves her siblings to death, but she loves herself, too. y/n deserves more than she’s been given, so she confides. she drives her brother to whatever practice, wishing him luck as he whispers a happy birthday, then jumping out of the car to see his friends.

she’s already dressed up for the party for belly. the fishers had welcomed her with open arms, even having decorations and sweets for her on the table. everyone figured she’d have something going on at home, but oh, they were so wrong. she didn’t receive a single birthday message from the people who gave her life, so did it matter? even if she didn’t believe it, at least the fishers knew she was worth it. she was dressed in one of her best outfits, a simple dress with small flowers printed over. she had small wedges and her hair was done neatly. she felt pretty, she is pretty.

she walked into the house, belly hearing the door open first. she skips toward, engulfing y/n in a huge hug. “y/n!” she squeals. “happy birthday!”

“oh, belly! happy birthday to you, you look so cute!”

“are you kidding? your man’s gonna go wild when he sees you!” she whispers, making y/n blush toward the end.

“belly, stop!” she nudges. “he’s not my man… yet.”

they giggle together before moving back into the kitchen where y/n greets susannah and laurel, along with the rest of the boys. conrad stands up first, in a heartbeat. he walks over, almost lifting y/n off the ground in a hug.

“hey! happy birthday!” he tells her, excitedly as he pulls away. jeremiah comes piling in next, saying his words to the person he considers a sister.

“didn’t y/m/n have anything planned?” susannah asked from the pure kindness in her heart.

“oh,” y/n mutters. “we, uh, we did something yesterday.”

conrad can tell when y/n lies. he can read her like a book at this point. he’s spent so long fanboying over her that he knows what she’s feeling. when she’s sad, excited, pissed, he knows. it pulls at his heart when he can sense the disappointment in her voice. he starts to get more alarmed with every drink she takes throughout the day. she’s not even a big drinker, never really taking an offer. now he’s positive somethings wrong.

if y/n’s parents didn’t care about her, they don’t care if she drinks, right? she’s with her friends, she’s allowed to. plus. it’ll take the edge off of the internal wounds her parents have left her with. her feelings on the whole matter start to disintegrate for a while, until belly’s cake comes out and is handed to her. it’s so nicely done, perfect detail and so much love. they put time into her cake and party, and y/n can’t help the jealousy rising up. she vividly remembers every one of her younger siblings birthdays. all of them having their friends and a party, while y/n was just locked in her room on her birthday. the presents and the cheesy grins from everyone were overwhelming every year. she couldn’t help but think about what it could be like with her real family. maybe they could love her as much as she deserves, but in reality, they won’t. they can, but they chose not to, which hurts even more.

y/n stumbles around on the balcony, around people while carefully savoring every last drop of whatever is in her can. she’s probably had too many, but she doesn’t care. it’s almost like it’s reversed itself now. she watches belly open all of her presents and receive hugs and kisses, and the lump in her throat becomes thicker. she thinks of the alcohol as her enemy now, just bringing back the thoughts in her sober mind.

it’s not until everyone hears the clicking of y/n’s heels on the pavement that they notice her walking away. her hand is swiping away the loose tears and everyone looks at conrad. if there’s anyone y/n wants to see, it’s him. they’ve been in love for so long, it’s almost painful to watch. as she walks away, blurry vision from the alcohol and the tears, she tries to grab another can from the box before a hand stops her.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea,” conrad says, gently taking it out of her hand and landing it back in the box.

“oh, great. more fuckin’ judgment,” she retorts, making conrad’s face contort.

“hey, what’s going on? you’ve been off all day.”

“i am, perfectly fine,” y/n slurs. conrad places a hand on her shoulder, and takes them to sit on the steps. his arm is wrapped around her, the other one gripping her hand.

“i know you’re not. it’s ok to not be ok,” he looks at her nose scrunch and her cheeks turn red again. “hey, hey, don’t cry, you’re alright.”

“no,” she weeps out, putting her head in her hands. “i’m a mess! i don’t know what to do, i cant make it any better and i’ve been trying for 14 fucking years!”

“hold on,” he keeps his voice low. “what do you mean?”

“my parents don’t give a shit. they haven’t since y/b/n was born and they didn’t even bother about me anymore,” conrad pulls her into his arms, leaning back as her teardrops soak into his shirt. “i didn’t do anything for this, and belly’s being loved unconditionally without having to fight for it. and i feel like a bitch getting upset over it but-“

“absolutely not. don’t say that ever again. you don’t deserve anything they’re giving you. anything they’ve said to you is a fucking lie. i know who you are. you’re the most perfect, beautiful person i’ve ever met, inside and out. you don’t have to prove anything to them, because they don��t deserve your amazingness,” he speaks to her. it’s nothing but the truth, and nothing he would ever hesitate to say. “and i will spend forever trying to prove to you that you’re nothing but beautiful a beautiful person.”

y/n looks up at him, only bursting into more tears as he laughs a bit. “oh, my god, conrad. i love you, so much. i know i’m drunk but i mean it more than anything.” she’s felt nothing like she does now. she’s never had someone accept her so quickly and with so much appreciation. she feels like she can do nothing but cry and just love on him.

“i’m glad,” he begins again. “because i love you, too. no matter what your parents say or do. they don’t define you.”

and in this moment, for the first time in a long time, y/n knows someone loves her. and he’s not just saying it for comfort. she doesn’t need her parents to be loved. if they can’t do that, there will forever be someone out there who loves her just as much. she knows she’s enough, and that’s enough.

[thedeviltohisangel]

FOR A FORTNIGHT THERE WE WERE:

Disneyland Headcanons

Felt particularly inspired on my trip today. A little something for my loves Evelyn and Callum until I’m home again, let me know your thoughts!

-As a child, Disney was such a mythical place. It’s where the rich kids go every school break. The land where her parents save every dime to try and take her and her siblings. A piece of the universe she craves to belong to.

-After early fame, Ev goes often. She takes pictures and brings all her friends and her family and walks around with a VIP guide and never smiles brighter than she does riding the coasters or the tea cups and laughing as if their is no weight on her shoulders. Some people stop for photos but it’s the right amount of wow I think I’m doing something special here and it’s not too much.

-After she skyrockets to fame in Star Wars (adding this to her filmography? Any thoughts?) it becomes much more commercialized. She’s trotted out in front of castles and waving and posing like plastic. Her ex husband is always there to hold her hand and kiss her. But he makes her ride the rides that scare her. Doesn’t let her get the Mickey shaped pizza she wants. Tells her she isn’t holding his hand the right way and people are watching. It’s as much performance for him and his career as it is for hers. It loses its magic and pixie dust and the fans are asking why Ev can only be seen at the theme parks for an event now. How she used to always be there eating popcorn and screaming on splash mountain and taking pictures with all the princesses. They all speculate that Hollywood has taken a fatal bite out of her. That she’s too busy with films and endorsements and magazine covers to be so fun loving anymore. They mourn the loss of the starlet they fell in love with and hope others will stop trying to scrape together the pieces of her now for just one more bite.

-BUT WITH CALLUM. God. He takes her because he knows it’s special and he knows it’s been awhile and he doesnt ask her why but he asks some of the people around her. They say it’s a him thing. An ‘her ex thought it was good for a photo op but ultimately very childish of her’ thing. And he buys her big and pink and princess-y ears and asks if she’ll keep them on because he thinks she looks gorgeous. And he takes photos for her in front of the castle (on his own with his phone and makes them his wallpaper) and he doesn’t flinch when she wants to ride on the carousel and laugh with him over how silly it is. Doesn’t flinch when she eats two Mickey ice cream bars for lunch and a pepperoni pizza for dinner. Buys the cheesy little photo of them on every rollercoaster because he had his arm around her protectively as she screams. It HEALS her to act like a child again and have someone WELCOME the youth that’s back in her cheeks. And he holds her while they watch the fireworks and he asks her if she’s happy and she smiles and says she feels like she got some magic back in her life. And Callum says that’s what he wished on a star for and she laughs and snuggles deeper and kisses his throat and tells him she loves him and will wish on a star for a forever just like this. And she goes home with a stuffed Marie from Aristocats and her phone died a long time ago and she didn’t even noticed and her feet hurt and she falls asleep in his shoulder in the car and she’s sunburnt and sweaty but clinging to him like a dream that she doesn’t want to fade away. And he just promises to make her wish come true. (Also he probably pulls the sword from the stone)

-BONUS: with their children. Ev always hires security when they go as a family and it hurts to take that bit of normalcy away from her kids but the media attention on her and Callum is too much for them to always be safe. He carries their daughters on his shoulders so they can see the parade and the shows. He knows the words to every song and sings his heart out with them. Crouches down to their level to point out Pooh and Mickey and Elsa. Ev is big on not having her kids ignore their gut so if they are afraid of the stranger in a costume then they don’t have to go and she won’t make them. They ride the carousel and dumbo over and over again because the baby of their family wants to. Callum confiscates the bubble wand when it nearly becomes a weapon. He takes so many photos of Ev holding their hands and walking around and when the littlest are in strollers sleeping but the oldest wants to ride thunder mountain one more time Cal tells Ev to go. Tells her it was her magic and pixie dust to share with their kids anyways. That the more memories she can make like this then the bad ones might drift so far away she won’t even think of them. The baby wakes up briefly to watch the show and ask her dad when he’s carrying her to the car and her cheek is smushed on his shoulder to ask if he’s a prince. And he tells her to ask mommy but she forgets and that night he and Ev are making out in bed and she calls him Prince Charming and laughs but shuts up real quick once he’s inside of her.

[kiteblue42]

Part 4 of - what the heck is going on with Mobius anyway?

S2e5 - the one with where they get the band back together

Disclaimer- I’m a single parent and found it hard to be objective watching this one. For me this episode was a very perfect reflection of how hard, lonely it can be to bring up children by yourself and how you willingly give up so much of yourself for them. They did this very well - I hope they don’t screw this up in the final episode.

A good life, but not a happy one

Mobius timeline life is good but not super happy. He comes across as struggling and lonely. Mobius works 6 days a week, he tries to sell Loki one of his jet skis that he no longer can use, he’s constantly being interrupted at work by his kids, the house is chaos and he had to leave the boys to fend for themselves selves while he was at work (therefore he has no friends or family to watch them or money to pay for childcare). This is a person struggling to keep it together, but he does manage to do so for his boys and he manages to stay kind and positive towards them. The boys are the top of his list of priorities “I can’t leave my boys”/ “I need to check on the kids” “I got to get back to my boys” “I’ll know”. This all speaks of someone who has given up his own wants for the kids and feels guilty about doing anything for himself.

Given the slightly flippant tone of “long gone” when discussing his wife I think it likely she left rather than died (or blipped) - as that’s not how a grieving widower is likely to speak (especially if he might be overheard by the boys).

The whisper of adventure

There are a number of signs that Mobius has a desire for adventure. His love of jet skis, the fact he immediately agreed to try out the time door, how much he loved the idea of being “Mobius.” (“Mobius is a pretty cool name”)

The idea of being your better self

It wasn’t just adventure for fun that’s calling his name though but also the idea of being something more. Mobius reacted emotionally to the idea of himself as someone that would “save my life when I first arrived”. His delivery of “I sell Jet Skis man” showed how little he thought of himself, but also a desire to be something more.

Loneliness

This exchange killed me:

Loki “you saved my life when I first arrived. You saw something in me I hadn’t seen in myself”

Mobius “Are you really my friend?”

Loki “I am”.

Just the way Mobius says this tell us how much he really really wants to believe he could have a friend like this.

Loki’s view of Mobius

Once again the major topic of conversation between Sylvie and Loki is Mobius (this is becoming a theme - and if they do get Sylvie and Loki together it’s just mad and funny).

Anyway this conversation tells us that Loki believed Mobius when he said the TVA was the “only life he knew” and that he “liked it”. Of course there’s an element of this being wishful thinking on Loki’s part, but he is pretty insistent that Mobius should be given the choice. So Loki thinks (at least until Sylvie talks him out of it) that there is a good chance Mobius would chose the TVA - and himself. And as Frigga once said (Thor: dark world) Loki is “.. so perceptive about everyone but yourself”. So I don’t think we should dismiss Loki’s perception about Mobius. (He is also pretty insistent in his conversation with Mobius that “this is not the life of the man I know”. And there’s enough for viewers to see “Mobius” is more at ease with himself than “Don”.)

Sylvie undermines this and persuades Loki he is being selfish. (Side note - Sylvie puzzles me this season and in particular in this episode- if you watch closely she sees that her McDonalds meal disappears and Loki’s drink in the bar disappear too - but says nothing to Loki and does everything to stop Loki from trying to fix it - is it just denial or something more sinister?)

Last episode

So some theory based predictions for Ep 6

Themes that still need payoff:

- order & chaos

- Partners & Friends & loneliness

- Hard choices

Th end of the last episode has me thinking we may get a happy ending because it would be narratively neat to leave Loki surrounded by his new TVA family - especially after the way last episode was concluded.

It would pay off the themes positively as follows:

order & chaos - Loki (chaos) working with TVA (order) to give balance

Partners & Friends & loneliness - Loki and his misfit friends get to stay together so they don’t have to be alone

Hard choices - this one worries me but it would be possible for a number of hard choices to be made that still ends up in a good place (even if it doesn’t seem like it will at the time).

Hard choices Mobius

I think this is aimed specifically at Mobius - Loki made his hard choice in Ep 5 when he was willing to let this team go. I’m hoping they will be able to square the circle with Mobius and his family, because he’ll *not* be ok without the boys or without Loki (& the TVA).

Given this is a time travel show with magic I don’t see why they can’t find an solution to that - because the issue is about not having enough time to both look after the boys and look after yourself. I’ll be super disappointed if they make this unnecessarily miserable by making Mobius give up either his fulfilling life & friends at the TVA or his boys. Though I also won’t be surprised to see this as a plot point. If they try to sell it to me as Mobius being super happy to return to his life I’ll be doubly annoyed.

In theory the boys timeline should be long gone so this choice should not exist, but they seem to be setting up this hard choice for Mobius in particular ( so maybe the loom explosion was meant to be a full reset).

Hanging threads & wild cards

X5 /Brad /Zaniac - is still in the TVA - is he going to cause chaos as they try to fix the loom?

Renslayer - is in the void - will she tame Alioth? Is Miss Minutes really gone or does she have another instance in the citadel at the end of time?

Kang - is HWR really behind everything? Are all the events just one pre-planned trap of HWR?

Sylvie - Sylvie knew more than she has told anyone (eg she saw the disappearance of items and said nothing). She has HWR tempad. Loki treats her like she has words of wisdom so we also tend to accept she is right or benign, but her last piece of advice was completely wrong. She has been acting pretty oddly all season too - what’s up with that? (Worth remembering she is a Loki variant and they are generally not to be trusted).

Romance

My own reading of Mobius remains that he lost his heart to Loki sometime around S1e2. By S1e5 he’d accepted this, but concluded it wasn’t going anywhere - so conveniently he didn’t need to exactly work out what the feelings were. Mainly because Loki was focused on Sylvie. This episode doesn’t change that since we don’t get any TVA Mobius.

Loki on the other hand did give more away this episode - and it was the first one (for me) where it looked like his feelings could be romantic or at least headed that way. Whenever he talks about saving his friends we all know this primarily means Mobius. I mean how much interaction has he really had with the others? The discussion in the bar was particularly instructive- he wants Mobius to have the choice (this is *after* seeing him on the timeline when he knows what Mobius would be giving up) and he desperately hopes Mobius would choose to stay with him. But Sylvie persuades him otherwise.

Sylvie - there is really no sign of the romance from last season left here. Loki does still greatly admire Sylvie. I’d say Loki almost hero worships her - and especially takes what she says about free will and choice as authoritative (as if she were an expert on it). This is consistent with his romantic feelings from s1e4,5&6 which seemed to grow out of his admiration for her radical / free spirit nature. But by this episode it didn’t seem to be romantic any more - rather a mentor / mentee conversation. Loki did not declare he wanted Sylvie back or even anything close to it - and it would have been the obvious time to do that.

Sylvie has never seemed particularly romantically interested in Loki to me. She kissed him to distract him in s1e6 and no doubt thinks he’s quite hot, but that’s all I’m getting. I actually like this about her as a character (she’s just not that into you Loki sorry). I hope she is a bit more villainous than we know (a bit more basic Loki if you will) otherwise she has been a bit of a spare part this season.

I am not expecting any romance from the last episode though mainly because:

(1) I don’t think there is time to do either romance option justice with all the other plot points to be resolved (2) romance is not central to the plot of season 2 - they have pushed the friendship / found family theme hard and that will do for plotting & emotional payoff purposes, and (3) if you want to be commissioned for season 3 you don’t resolve romantic tension. We’re on Tumblr so we all know there are a significant chunk of fans of any media that follow the stories for the romance aspect - and we all know this audience is likely to be very loyal, vocal on social media and will predictably turn up to watch the next season just to see how it plays out. If they resolve a romance arc either way too early they kill a lot of interest in season 3 - people are always more interested in “will they won’t they” than an established relationship.

[ifwebefriends]

My Child Lebensborn review/thoughts/rambles

So the other day, I played a game called My Child Lebensborn and I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings about it. It’s kinda intense with its themes and story (TW below) so if you’re in a good headspace right now, I really think that you should play it or watch a let’s play on YouTube. It’s like 4-5 hours long. The game is on most consoles as well as android and iOS. It costs $3 and a part of that goes to the Children Born of War Project so while I’m usually pro-piracy, this is one game that I really think you should not pirate. I played the iOS version which you can download here.

The game is described as a “dark tamagotchi” where you play a struggling single parent in 1951-1952 Norway and care for your young adoptive child (either the male Klaus or female Karin, you choose). Klaus/Karin is a “Lebensborn,” an Aryan child born out of wedlock of a German soldier and a Norwegian woman during the occupation of Norway in WWII. You have to balance caring for the child both mentally and physically, work, investigating the child’s origins, and keeping up with local news. A lot happens to the child over the course of the game that you can’t do anything to prevent, you can only impact how the child sees the situation and how they may react to it. It’s a really good and educational game about an aspect of war that I wasn’t really familiar with until now and while it’s not really the most “fun,” it’s a very fulfilling and engaging experience.

The story is basically entirely told through text and mostly happens to the child outside of the home so most of the disturbing stuff happens off-screen but it’s still heavily referred to and feels like a punch to the gut.

If you have a hard stomach and think you can handle it, stop reading this post now and go play it as I’m about to give trigger warnings that could spoil the game and then go into my personal thoughts about it.

Trigger warning for: references to war, bullying, assault, poverty, abandonment, references to Nazism, attempted murder, being forcibly tied up, being urinated on, ethnic discrimination, cruel family members, cruel teachers, and child sexual assault.

Direct Spoilers below

So I don’t think I ever want kids IRL but the way that Karin had MY WHOLE HEART and I wanted to be the best parent ever for her 🥺 like that is my DAUGHTER and you WILL NOT TOUCH HER

Karin baby you deserved so much better I’m sorry I could only do so much for you 🥺🥺🥺

AHHH I DIDN’T BUY THE FOX TOY IN TIME IT WAS GONE BEFORE I HAD THE MONEY FOR IT FUCK

I wish I had chewed out the grandparents more during that visit with them fuck them

The bullying was so fucking cruel like what the hell that’s a child who didn’t ask to be born under these circumstances have some compassion!!!!!!

The way that I clocked almost IMMEDIATELY that Karin was sexually assaulted since she didn’t want to be touched (I don’t know where I learned the warning signs but I did)

I wish there was an option to fucking murder Mr. Solheim

I choose to believe that Karin and the parent ended up somewhere good where people were more tolerant, I have to believe that

I chose to investigate the parents as much as possible, be as honest with Karin as I could, and tried to keep some hope and cautious optimism alive in Karin while still being sensitive to her feelings and not forcing her when she didn’t feel like doing something and I was very satisfied with how things turned out, she trusted me fully by the end

I wish that Karin was more trusting of others by the end but I don’t know how much control I had over that

Here are my chapter complete endcards to further describe the choices I made:

Image ID in ALT Text

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Cemetery Symbolism OC Questions

A little list of OC questions based on Victorian Graveyard Symbolism (obviously some of the symbols mentioned here had more than one meaning, or a meaning which changed over time, it's not intended to be exhaustive, merely illustrative of some themes). I hope you enjoy the list!

Skull - Mortality.

Does your OC often reflect upon their own mortality? Is it something which they fear?

Does your OC have a "bucket list" of things they would like to do (or places they would like to see) before they die?

Who is the most significant person your OC has lost? Have they fully processed their grief? Or can certain things trigger a flood of emotions?

Is there a person who your OC cannot bear the thought of losing? What lengths would they go to in order to keep them safe?

Does your OC observe any ceremonies or festivals of remembrance? Who do they memorialise? How does your OC feel on these occasions?

Harp - Hope.

Is your OC an optimist? Do they tend to believe things will work out for the best? Or do they prefer to anticipate the worst, in order to be pleasantly surprised if it does not occur?

If your OC could make one wish to change the world for the better then what would they choose?

Has your OC fulfilled the hopes of their parents or their community? How do they feel about these in retrospect?

To what does your OC cling to in extremes of despair or danger? A faith? A mission? Or something else?

Does your OC galvanise hope in others? How do they encourage or rally others when they fall to despair?

Heart - Devotion.

Does your OC inspire devotion in those around them? What form does this take? Adulation? Romantic attachment? Ferocious loyalty? Or something else?

Is your OC particularly pious? Do they follow a religious faith? Or did they once have a faith which they lost? If they are not religious then how do they feel about those who are?

Does your OC have an irreverent sense of humour, even (or especially) about the things which are important to them? Or do they treat such things with great solemnity?

Is your OC particularly patriotic? What does their country or other place of origin mean to them?

Does your OC remain loyal to those they love, regardless of the rights and wrongs of any given situation? Would they support them even if they were in the wrong? Even if they committed a serious crime?

Cherub - Innocence.

Is your OC particularly knowledgeable about matters of the flesh? Are they easily shocked or scandalised? Or are there relatively few fetishes, positions, or unusual uses of implements of which they have not heard - or possibly even attempted?

Does your OC swear in day to day conversation? Or only when they are startled or angry?

Did your OC have a sheltered upbringing? Did anyone educate them about sex and relationships? Or were such things not discussed? If their family did not give them this information then how did they find out?

Does your OC adjust their language or behaviour around children? Are there some topics they avoid discussing in front of them - like war or death - because they would prefer to shield them from such things until they are older?

What is something your OC has learned that they would rather never have known?

Tree - Knowledge.

Does your OC have much in the way of academic learning? If so then how useful has this been to them in their adult life? If not then are they ever jealous of those with more formal education?

Does your OC have a particular area of interest or expertise? Do they enjoy sharing this interest with others? Or is it something they prefer to keep private?

Does your OC learn from experience? Or do they seem doomed to repeat the same mistakes time and time again?

Do others see your OC as particularly intelligent? Or are they considered average, or even somewhat lacking, in intellect? How accurate is this assessment?

How well does their partner, sibling or other closest person in their life know them? Are there secrets they keep even from them?

Urn - Penitence.

What is the thing about which your OC feels most guilty?

Does your OC believe that a person can be redeemed even if they have committed heinous deeds? Or do they maintain that some crimes can never be forgiven?

Does your OC find it easy to admit when they have wronged another person? Do they find it easy to apologise?

Has your OC ever been punished for a crime or been compelled to do penance for a perceived sin? Did they feel this was just at the time? Has their view changed in retrospect?

When your OC has hurt or offended someone they care about, how do they tend to make it up to that person?

[dearweirdme]

Hi. Here’s the “company vs. Tae” in the LGBT context anon. Thanks for your reply. Just to clarify, I'm neither a hater nor a JKKr. I'm interested in understanding the relationship between the company and Tae. Thinking the company is either covering for him or being malicious is too simplistic. The dynamics are likely more complex.

Bang Si-hyuk’s personality remains a mystery. He keeps his personal life as private as BTS’s. We only know he’s 50+ years old, unmarried, with no children. His Instagram mostly features photos with his artists. His only revealed personal connection is J.Y. Park, whom he calls his teacher, brother, and best friend.

The concepts of freedom and self-acceptance appeared early in BTS songs, probably when they had little influence over song choices or concepts. The LGBT themes could be Si-hyuk’s personal agenda or his attempt to resonate with the younger generation. Additionally, Si-hyuk aimed for the Western market early on, and aligning with the LGBT agenda might have influenced his decisions for BTS.

I don’t doubt Tae’s personal choices are genuine, but it’s hard to believe he had much say in early BTS topics before 2018. Si-hyuk is listed as the first author of "Stigma." It's hard to imagine Tae confiding his real story to him for the song’s basis.

Thanks to those noting that the "Denver Nuggets" rainbow jersey is not specifically related to LGBT, though Tae could still wear it as an LGBT symbol. There are many factors to consider to understand the full picture.

Hi anon!

Ooooo, this is interesting! I always say that most things are complex and nuanced and I definitely agree that this applies to this situation as well. I’ll probably expand it a bit to all members and not just Tae.. since I think there are possibly more queer members than just him… Jk and Jm being the most obvious ones imo.

So.. my thoughts on Bang Pd and his relationship with the members is that it’s mostly performative. I think he possibly has a good relationship with some, and a lesser one with others. I do not buy that he is a father figure to them for one bit. I think that’s something SK’s love to buy into (parents of idols as well) because very often really young children are left to the care of the company the go to. A prime example is Min Heejin and Nj’s.. no matter what that bond actually is.. she’s not a mother to them.. and I dislike that portrayal. Ceo’s are in a position of power.. they place business first. Bang Pd in my eyes definitely always places business first. Him not having known Tae’s name for a ling time to me definitely shows that there was no strong bond between them. Tae has said other things that to me make it seem that bond never developed much.

Whether Bang Pd has personal motives for encouraging themes of freedom and Lgbt themes I find hard to decide on.. we just know nothing about the man. For all I know he could be queer himself and also closeted.. who knows. I think he bases his decisions on money. I think the reason why members aren’t able to be out is because it will lose them fans and money and status. It’s neither protection or malice in my opinion… I think it’s a business decision. I do think a queerfriendly approach is decided on.. in favor of a more western approach probably, but also because I think the members themselves want this and support this. I do not think they are without power these days. They seem to have power over their music, I suspect there’s limits to what they can do though.

With the place and status BTS members now have in Sk, and them having grown into men.. with voices of their own.. who probably no longer blindly follow what the company wants from them… I feel hopeful that maybe a new direction will be taken in the future (though perhaps that is wishful thinking). From both Jm and Tae’s projects I feel there is more freedom for them to enter queer spaces. Bang Pd’s focus will perhaps also shift to younger groups at one point.. which isn’t weird.. it’s business. And personally I don’t really mind that, since I think it will mean more freedom for the boys. Talking as a Tkkr, it’s not just them possibly being queer that is a problem… it’s them being together that’s a problem as well. Even if at one point they get more individual freedom, I think the freedom to come out as a couple isn’t anywhere on the horizon at this point. That isn’t just because of homophobia imo, but also a privacy and safety issue.

As for Stigma.. I agree, I hardly think Tae would have shared his story with BangPd… though perhaps Bang knew of Tae’s sexuality early on. It would kinda depend on which portion of the song was written by whom.. and who made which alterations. The changing of a few words can change the whole meaning of a song.. so I find it hard to say much about this without knowing the songwriting process. It’s a highly metaphorical song though.. it’s able to mean different things to different people.

In a nutshell.. I think Tae is queer, which is why we see queer related things from him. I think Bang Pd is well aware that having an out queer person (or several) in an idol band would not have led them to the succes they wanted. Aside from that.. being queer positive would make them seen progressive and speak to a younger and wider audience, which Bang Pd probably also realized.

[hotchocolatefanfics]

Rambling About Springtrap/William Afton and FNAF Because I Feel Like It

I don’t know if anyone else had/has this issue with FNAF, but I have always considered the animatronics to be their own characters. Like yeah they’re possessed by ghosts (dead kids and their killer) but I liked the idea that they were possessed in addition to having their own personalities/being ‘alive’.

Basically, imagine Pinocchio being possessed while being a living puppet. XD

This whole idea is due to me having a very “on again, off again” relationship with FNAF. I like the characters and the lore, but didn’t really follow the story very much…Despite knowing more now, there’s still an AU of Freddy, Bonnie, Chika, Foxy Golden Freddy/Fredbear(?) and Springtrap being created by couple who desperately wanted children of their own and somehow came to life but being abandoned with Springtrap locking himself away for unknown reasons roaming around in the back of my mind. 😆😅

But in all seriousness, I love how FNAF explores concepts like body horror (being stuffed into a robot and it becoming your body), immortality as motional/psychological torture, and how being alive could be worse than dying. It also reminds me of Coraline which is one of my favorite movies.

Springtrap and William Afton:

To be clear, I love Springtrap’s design! I love how neglected and broken he PHYSICALLY looks and his human eyes and movements (which I know is Afton but!) adds to the creepiness of him and I love it!

I swear, if the animatronics were in fact their own characters (regardless of ghost possession) I could see Springtrap suffering from pain due to rusted bolts and exposed wiring. Similar to Arthritis or nerve damage!

BUT! How I feel about William Afton is MUCH different. I love redemption stories and it’s my usual go to theme in my fan fictions, but I don’t think Afton could be redeemed. 

It would be one thing if Afton were “seeking revenge for the death of two of his kids and innocent people got mixed up in it” but, no, that didn’t happen. Didn’t he kind of (indirectly) cause their deaths in the first place? And build the animatronics to kill?

Afton is also said to have been an abusive father. I think it was emotional/mental abuse and/or neglect (according to Reddit anyway) which does remind me of the generational trauma and passed down abuse we saw in Bojack Horseman. 

I do not know if Afton’s childhood was ever explored but (again) it would have been interesting if Afton realized he was a bad parent when he failed to protect his kids and if he sought revenge on their killers (in his mind breaking the cycle of abuse and promising to do better) but ultimately making it worse by killing and harming other people and then, in shame, hiding away in the walls to stay away from the world. 

But I know, that’s all wishful thinking! 

William Afton/The Purple Guy is the first villain that I do not feel any sympathy for or have any hope/idea of redemption in him (and I absolutely love redemption for villains!). I feel far more sympathy for Springtrap (the animatronic) than I do for this guy. 

He may be hidden in a suit, seen only as a skull, but William Afton is the real monster in FNAF. 

Please correct me if I’m wrong and feel free to share your own thoughts if you want! 

[omniblades-and-stars]

Writer Interview

Tagged b @teamdilf over on the main! Thanks!

When did you start writing?

I wrote a story about a princess who falls in love with a blind prince and kills her evil war-monger father when I was like 11 or 12 years old. I wrote it in a couple of spiral bound notebooks and it was a lot of chapters. I wish I had kept it but I was very embarrassed by it as a teenager and threw it away.

I wrote a couple of things with a friend as a teenager, but didn't start writing again until April of last year.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I really love reading nonfiction. But as far as fiction I think the only genre I really read that I don't write regularly is horror. And I one day hope to tackle that.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I haven't been compared to another author but if I could pull off making my readers feel like how I felt the first time reading Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky regardless of style, I'll consider that a win.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

My writing space is wherever I feel like. I write either on my laptop or on my phone and frequently do so on the couch, or at the office, or in the bathtub.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I listen to songs that get me into the emotional state of whatever emotion I'm going to be writing the most in. And also Focalin and caffeine.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Complicated relationships with parents, women who are just REALLY going through it. Characters who experience symptoms of bipolar disorder. Grief and not dealing well with it. Healing from trauma. And no, I am not at all surprised by this in any way.

What is your reason for writing?

It has become a critical part of coping with my life which seems to be a neverending onslaught of stress and misfortune. I also just really enjoy it.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I enjoy comments in general. I like knowing your thoughts as you read, I like when someone picks up on themes and whatnot (sometimes I didn't even know they were there). And a good noncoherent keysmash. But I think my favorite are the ones that turn into a conversation! I just enjoy talking to people!

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I just really hope you guys enjoy it. Or found it effective.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Emotional beats and characterization.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I feel like my writing has come a long way in the last year. I have a lot of areas that need a lot of improvement (plot construction/planning being chief among them), but I feel very positively about my writing generally. I think a lot of what I write is very emotional, and some of it's a lot of fun!

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I write almost entirely for myself unless I'm writing for a specific person. Like I'm doing this for me, because it's what I enjoy or it's therapeutic. I'm not writing for a market or a group of people. I'm just here to write the stories I wanna write!

Lessee I'll tag: @commander-krios, @mushroommanchanterelle, @sparatus, @thetrashbagswasteland

[theboywithburninghands]

I’m back! It was a nice break, but I found my mojo again. This one took a bit longer to write since I wanted it to flow well, as it’s mostly just conversation. Buuuut I think it’s good! @fernstarsblog tag for you, hope you all enjoy.

T/W: Era appropriate sexism, vague references to a nonexistent book’s disturbing themes

Primum Peccatum Ch. 7: The Rest is Still Unwritten

Pomni had seated herself by the fireplace, the flue closed to prevent any errant rainwater from trickling down the chimney. She left it unlit. The stray papers littering Mr. Kinger’s floor and accumulation of dust was a house fire waiting to occur. No need for additional heat, regardless, she had a cup of tea for that on a stack of papers nearby.

The chair she sat in, while moth eaten and a bit musty, was a pleasant spot to read. It was dark, certainly, but the dim sunlight smothered by rain clouds provided reasonable natural light. She had to squint to read, but her eyesight was sharp (20/20 according to her physician). As Jax changed into dry clothes upstairs, she read in the quiet, coughing occasionally from the abundance of dust and sipping her beverage. These peaceful moments were so scarce these days. Once she was married, would she ever experience them again..? Well, if this rascal honored the deal he made with her, she might. She really should have gotten that in writing. Having to share her space with someone else all the time was daunting enough. It would have been just about impossible if she had a child.

She had thought about children. Jax told her he had no interest, but truth be told, the idea intrigued her. There were pros and cons. Babies were quite cute, she only wished they made less noise… and required less attention, and produced less bodily fluids. Having a baby meant she would have to let Jax conceive the child with her, and then she would carry it full term, which was also worrying. Her mother miscarried several times, and she had been born quite early and small… truthfully she was lucky to have been born at all.

But, on the other hand, a son or a daughter was something entirely hers. Something her parents couldn’t meddle in. Someone she could impart her wisdom on without being told to be quiet, she was a woman. Her legacy, not her parents’. She was taking another man’s name, after all. Her own surname had soured on her tongue by now.

A child was something to consider, since marriage was unavoidable at this point.

She realized she hadn’t been paying attention to her novel, and found the last place she remembered reading. She had the book mostly memorized already, but she wanted to read each word again. It was a pleasant experience to have the written word in front of her so she didn’t have to conjure it in her head. She sipped from her cup, finishing the last of her now lukewarm tea.

She heard a door open upstairs, and shrank a bit in her chair. He was finished changing and would inevitably come down here to pester her. She didn’t hate him, she hated that she would be stuck listening to him blabber for the next few decades. Perhaps that would be the biggest threat to her peace, not a baby.

“Pomni?” he called.

She didn’t answer.

“Pomni, dear?”

She held her tongue to keep herself from telling him not to call her “dear.” Her name was Pomni, and only Pomni.

“Ah, there you are.” Jax emerged from the door, stepping carefully over the scattered stacks of papers. He had on very little barring an undershirt and a pair of dress pants. “I almost didn’t see you. That chair engulfs your entire form.”

Pomni glared in his general direction. “Have you come here to make light of my stature? If so, you’ve made your point. You’re dreadfully underdressed.”

“Apologies, my dear. I didn’t quite feel like dressing only to perspire through another set of clothes. What are you reading?”

Pomni rolled her eyes and closed the book, her finger keeping her spot, showing Jax the cover before reopening the book.

“Ah, Rachel Houston. Good choice. I’m more of a fan of Margaret’s Rise, but Humidity is a nice little story.”

Pomni raised an eyebrow and looked at Jax for as long as she could manage. “You’ve read Margaret’s Rise? You.”

Margaret’s Rise was an 800-page thunder lizard of a novel that Houston considered her magnum opus, published three years before her death. It followed an alternate universe, an ultra-religious corrupt society that kept women in a bastille city until they turned 18, where they were sold to the highest bidder. The novel was named after the protagonist, Margaret, a woman who spent almost her entire life in “the rise,” the lowest point of the prison where misbehaving women were sent. It was lambasted by critics for its disturbing scenes, although Pomni always thought the “critics” were just waiting for their chance to pounce on Houston for her years of supposed “misandry.” Allfather forbid a woman write what she felt…

“Yes I have. The prose was excellent, if somewhat moralistic at times.” Jax said. “But I suppose a story about the oppression of women would have a few points to make about the oppression of women.”

Pomni looked back down at her novel. “I’ve only read it once, and once was enough.”

“Too upsetting to revisit, hm? Which scene was it? Carlotta’s flagellation?”

Pomni raised her eyes again. It seemed he actually had read the novel. Or at least knew about one of the more infamous scenes from it. He actually remembered a character’s name as well… It must have been a ruse.

“No, actually. I was more upset by the scene with The Constable. Certainly you remember?”

Jax exhaled, sitting in the chair opposite Pomni wearily, as though the very question required substantial effort.

“I suppose you’ll have to narrow it down a bit more. His introductory scene? The part with Annette? The burning of the watchtower?”

Pomni raised both brows this time. So he actually had read the novel.

“The scene with Annette, of course. I couldn’t eat my supper afterwards.” Pomni said.

“What a frightening character he was. I believe Houston said she left him nameless because he was meant to serve as…” Jax thought for a moment.

“To serve as ‘an amalgamation of every man that possessed entirely too much power.’” Pomni finished. “You read that interview in the Herald as well?”

“I certainly did. I read the paper every morning after my father and my brothers have finished with it.” Jax said, tenting his fingers.

“My father is only interested in the financial section. Or anything having to do with Telychia. I read the rest.” Pomni replied.

“You know, since we’re on the subject, I was going to ask. Is it true you only need to read something once before you have it committed to memory?”

“For the most part, yes. Not every single solitary word I read is a prisoner in my skull for as long as I draw breath-”

“Very poetic,” Jax added, grinning.

“But,” Pomni continued rigidly. “In general, yes. My physician calls it a nearly eidetic memory. At least for books and written texts. If something is of little importance to me, I soon forget it.”

“So you could recite a book from memory? That’s astounding. I see why your father trusts you to take over his firm.” Jax said.

“I appreciate the compliment, but I no longer have an interest in taking over my father’s law firm.” Pomni replied, not looking up from her novel.

Jax sat up a bit straighter. “That is… Well, unsurprising, truth be told. Given your stringent opposition to this marriage, I’m surprised you haven’t ripped your own picture off the family tree entirely. Well, no matter. I suppose I can always take over my father’s trading business.”

Pomni locked eyes with Jax for a moment before quickly glancing away again.

“You? I don’t understand. I’m aware that your eldest brother Altonicus is a doctor, but what about… Osvaldo? Nepotism would put him as next in line, yes?”

Jax put his chin on his closed fist, appearing lost in thought for a few moments: “Not quite. Aldo has… other pursuits.”

“Such as?” Pomni asked.

“Those my father does not necessarily agree with.” Jax replied.

“You’re dodging the question- Is it your intention to frustrate me? You’re succeeding.” Pomni said.

“Well, you’re quite interested in my family. And here I thought you didn’t pretend to know them.”

“Fine then,” Pomni picked her book up and found her page. “If you’re going to act childish, this conversation is over.”

“You needn’t be angry,” Jax leaned forward, fingers tented again. “I’m merely happy you’ve taken an interest in me, however small. If you like, we can change the subject back to Rachel Houston.”

Pomni remained quiet for a spell before sighing. “…I suppose it’s difficult for me to understand why you’re so hesitant to share any information about your family.” Pomni said. “You’re so talkative about any other subject. It makes me suspicious.”

“Suspicion is the proper response to some members of my family. You met Boone?”

Pomni thought for a moment. “The third eldest brother. Green fur. He wore a brown waistcoat.”

“Yes, your memory is impressive- Treat him with ample suspicion.” Jax said. He was no longer smiling.

“What on earth does that mean? Should I be frightened?”

“No,” Jax answered quickly. “But, I grew up with him as my elder brother and all that I will tell you is… Let sleeping dogs lie.”

“I… see.” Pomni closed her book. “So why is he unfit to be the heir? Is he light of brain?”

“Far from it. Boone is quite intelligent. But he’s easily bored by… most things.” Jax replied.

“And these are things that your father does not approve of and yet you cannot relay to me, much like Osvaldo?” Pomni asked flatly.

“…Aldo wishes to be a vocalist. My father does not see it as a lucrative career.” Jax said after a moment.

“What about your mother?” Pomni asked.

“I wouldn’t know. My mother is dead. She passed away shortly after I was born.” Jax gazed into the empty fireplace.

“I… oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Pomni said.

“Hmm. It’s quite alright. I was merely a month old.” Jax locked eyes with Pomni, who shortly glanced away. “You have difficulty with eye contact. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Pomni shook her head. “It isn’t you. I have difficulty with all eye contact. And physical contact.”

“Is that so? I’ll do what I can to keep that in mind.” Jax said. “I’m glad you didn’t grow up with my father. He considers someone speaking to him without eye contact disrespectful.”

“My parents have hounded me about it for years. They claim it’s ‘improper etiquette.’ They also claim I don’t smile enough, or speak sweetly enough, or wear elegant enough clothes…” Pomni made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

Jax hummed contemplatively. “Etiquette. What a load of hogwash it all is.”

“You have it so much easier.” Pomni replied automatically.

“Oh, I know. I don’t pretend to have anywhere near the amount of social pressure that you have as a woman. But I can empathize. Take fashion for instance.”

Jax tugged on his own undershirt. “What’s so offensive about a shirt and trousers? Comfort in one’s own clothes is apparently an afterthought compared to appearances. And yet, we all look the same! All the men in their waistcoats and tight trousers, all the women in their ridiculous puffy dresses and those outrageous hats that look like enormous clams are trying to devour their cranium. It’s why I appreciate your style of dress. Simple and pretty. I know for a fact your parents forced you to wear that ugly red thing the day we met.”

Pomni nodded. “I couldn’t agree more. And yes, they did insist I wear it. I’m just thankful they didn’t try and force me into a corset…”

“You, in a corset?” Jax regained his Cheshire grin.

“You needn’t tell me how ridiculous an idea that is. I’m only 110 lbs, my waist is slender already. And yet my mother insisted, nay, begged me to try one on for my 24th birthday. Our caretaker Zooble managed to talk some sense into her by telling her that I was at risk of cracking ribs if I tightened the horrid contraption.”

Jax gave a short laugh of disbelief. “What foolish lengths we go to just to have others call us beautiful. I already know I’m beautiful, and I know you’re beautiful. What else does it matter?”

Before Pomni could fully digest what the rabbit just said, Jax suddenly sat up straighter as though jabbed by a pin.

“Oh, I’d almost forgotten! I have something for you!”

Jax hopped up from his chair and went upstairs. Pomni looked back down at her book, but found it difficult to focus on the words. She hadn’t despised her chat with Jax like she had expected… He was a rake, certainly, but he was well read, and surprisingly respectful where it mattered. Most would have told her to simply get over her difficulty with eye contact, as if it was so simple… She would have to further test his knowledge on books and poetry.

She did worry about his family. Especially Boone. What did he mean by “ample suspicion?” She certainly felt… uneasy around the fellow, that derisive aura he carried about himself was hair-raising.

Hm. Hare-raising.

Jax stepped back into the room, carrying a small red-wine colored box.

“I know you’re none too pleased with this marriage, but I figured to keep up appearances, I should perform this ritual. I believe this is the appropriate position…”

Jax fell onto one knee in front of Pomni, holding the box in an outstretched hand. Pomni stared at it.

“Miss Pomni Shutnyk, would you accept this ring of betrothal?”

Jax opened the box, a tiny glimmering object set in the red-violet silk. Pomni reached into the box and removed the ring. The band was polished gold, and the inset jewel winked an iridescent magenta. She held it up to the dim, cloud-blotted light, the purple gemstone reflecting countless other colors despite the darkness.

“Mr. Krolik, I… Oh, goodness. How many crowns did you spend on this?” Pomni looked down at Jax, who closed the ring box and set it on a nearby stack of papers. She felt a peculiar warmth beneath her eyes.

“Don’t fret over the price. Osvaldo and Kali helped me select one at a reasonable cost. Mr. Rooker informed me that your favorite colors were red and blue, so I decided on a happy medium. Besides,” His soft smile widened into an impish grin. “The color will forever remind you of my lovely countenance.”

Pomni rolled her eyes again. Nonetheless, she slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. She held it up to the light again. It was… beautiful, in an unobtrusive way. Not too large or gaudy.

She looked at Jax, and for the first time, gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, dear.” Jax replied, giving a small bow of his head. His ears swayed slightly.

The front door opened, making Pomni jump. The rain, a good deal lighter than earlier, could be heard pattering outside.

“Mr. Krolik! I’ve returned from the mainland! Say, did Ms. Shutnyk forget her hat?” Kinger called out.

“I’m in the reading room!” Pomni got to her feet, carrying her empty cup and saucer with her out into the foyer. “Shame on you, by the way! You locked the door and left Mr. Krolik outside in the rain!”

Kinger in a purple waistcoat, black top hat and white shirt (trousers were unnecessary as he had no legs,) looked around from hanging up his own umbrella. He held a paper bag full of paper and sketching pencils.

“No key?” he wondered aloud. “But that’s impossible! I gave him one just yesterday.”

Pomni smirked, Jax exiting the reading room with her novel and the ring box. “No, I don’t believe you did. He was sitting outside your locked door, sopping wet, not an hour ago.”

Kinger took out his wallet of keys. “But I did! It should be- …oh.” Kinger held the spare key, still hooked into the wallet with the others. “Blazes.”

“No need to be embarrassed, Mr. Rooker. My fiancée came by to let me in.” Jax said, gesturing to Pomni. She scoffed.

“Well, regardless, that was careless of me. Here you are.” Kinger unhooked the key and handed it Jax. “All apologies.”

Pomni retrieved her hat and placed it on her head. “I should be going. The damp weather will surely bring out hordes of mosquitoes.”

“You’re certain you want to leave right away?” Jax asked.

“I’m certain. I’ve imposed upon you long enough. Kinger, your kettle has water in it, it only needs reheating.” Pomni opened the front door. The rain had eased into a drizzle, puddles littering the weedy pathway to the main road. The air smelled fresh and bright, an aroma of damp leaves.

“Do be cautious, Pomni! The road has softened considerably.” Kinger said, hanging his top hat on one of the umbrella hooks.

“I shall. Our next visit will be longer, I promise.” Pomni gave Kinger a brief hug. He was one of two people she felt entirely comfortable embracing, the other being Ragatha. Kinger patted her back fondly.

“Farewell for now, dear.” he said.

Pomni ended the embrace, then turned to look in Jax’s direction. The rabbit tilted his head, curious of her next move.

She walked over, took her novel back, and held out her hand, eyes on the floor. “Good evening, Jax. Your company was… not unpleasant.”

Jax grinned his familiar grin and shook Pomni’s hand. “Good evening, Pomni. I did not despise your presence either.”

Pomni nodded, heat in her face, before she turned and hurried out the front door, her novel under her arm.

[jakeysbuttsheeks]

Godfather v1

Warnings: profanity, age gap , mature themes, crying , mentions of: overdose , drug use , substance use , death of parent , orphaning , other shit

Pairings: Jake x fem reader

"Y|n! where's Jake?" Josh yells as you walk into the party for Greta's new single release. The music was blasting and you could feel it thumping in your chest .

"he's coming. He's parking the car" you make up an excuse.

"do you want a drink?" Josh smirks, he seemed pretty wasted already.

"you know I'm not even 18 yet right?" You smile at him widely.

"I was doing coke when I was 13, nobody cares" Josh tosses his hand up and you laugh .

"yeah sure" you say , laughing at his exaggeration.

"and anyway you'll be 18 in a month. So you're basically 18 now" he says , dragging you away to the bar.

Jake had stil been giving you the cold shoulder. Not a cold shoulder as such, but he only spoke to you unless he needed to and barely looked your way. You hoped he would ease up and forgive you but it didn't seem like it was happening any time soon .

Speak of the devil. Jakes walks in . Even though he literally drove you here , he insisted on you going in first . Like he had some important business to do before coming in.

Josh notices you look Jake's way when he walks in . Josh has this thing for recognising weird tensions immediately.

"did you and Jake fight or something?" Josh asks as the bartender slides you your drink .

"no" you say taking a sip

"I got my tongue pierced and smoked when he told me not to" you explain and Josh snaps his head at you in shock .

"a tongue piercing!?" He gasps and you nod in guilt before sticking out your tongue to show him .

"Jesus- fuck! It's through your tongue!?" Josh squints .

"yeah. It hurts actually. It's not healed" you say , wishing you hadn't gone out that night with Ethan .

"y|n! Hey!" Axel yells as he comes up to you . You turn his way and smiled at him as he approached you .

"you look amazing I'm glad you came" Axel says , leaning close to your ear so you could hear him speak . Josh gives you a look before leaving you two alone.

You wished he stayed . Axel was all over you , trying his hardest to strike you with his charm. He was charming, it's just- you had your eyes on Jake that was across the room . He seemed to have forgotten your existence.

"and then he told me not to go but I went anyway-" Axel rambled on but you couldn't care less about what he was saying. Your eyes darted around the room when you lost sight of Jake .

You thought Jake probably went out to have a smoke or something. But actually he was dragged away by Josh to have a private conversation.

"what is actually going on between you and y|n" Josh asks as he leans on the wall , playing with his drink .

"what'd you mean?" Jake asked , trying his best not to rat himself out .

"what do I me-? I mean the way you look at her everytime you get a chance ? And she has her on you too . And I know that look in your eyes Jake" Josh blatantly points out as Jake stares at him in guilt, his cheeks growing pink.

"fuck" Jake turns to pace down the area , running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Josh waits for Jake to say something.

"it is that obvious I'm falling madly in love with her?" Jake stops and asks Josh. But Josh doesn't seem to be shocked.

"what the fuck is wrong with me? I've basically brought her up her whole life! I feel like a fucking pedophile Josh!" Jake lets it out as he paces around.

"but I'm not-! I don't like children-! I just- I like her?" Jake rambles , frustrated with himself.

"she's not a child anymore Jake" Josh calmly states , taking a sip of his drink , still leaning on the wall.

"that's not the point- why are you not disgusted with me?!" Jake yells at his twin.

"well" Josh leans off the wall.

"how does she feel about you?" Josh continues.

"i- I don't know- I'm pretty sure she thinks I hate her right now. She probably things of me as her father figure or something" Jake sighs.

"but I don't know- sometimes there's these moments like-" Jake thinks over.

"I don't know- I'm fucking losing my mind!" Jake runs his fingers through his hair again .

"and I can't even tell her anything because she'll think I'm a creep. I can't do that. I can't do this shit-" Jake starts pacing around again.

"calm down" Josh presses in annoyance.

"I've seen how she looks at you. You'll figure it out" Josh pats his shoulder before walking back inside.

You perked up when you saw Josh come back .You waited for Jake but he didn't come.

"gimme a sec. I gotta run to the restroom" you interrupt Axel before you walked to the restroom area to find Jake nowhere there . You wondered lf he'd gone off with some girl or something.

Probably taking a smoke , you told yourself. You headed out to find him nowhere there.

You sigh and walk around, it was quiet and it was nice to be away from Axel.

You take out a cigarette and light it. There was something about night time and the moon that gave you the urge to smoke . It was probably a trait you picked up from your father .

Jake had come back and when he saw you weren't around he went looking for you .

He walked out of the place , the smell of tobacco hitting him as he turned to see you with a cigarette between your fingers and smoke fuming out of your nostrils. It hit something in him. He'd never felt more angry.

"y|n!" You jump when you hear Jake yell . Your stomach felt like the turned inside-out.

He paced up to you and grabbed the cigarette out of your hand and threw it on trb floor before stepping on it .

"don't I give you enough freedom already!? Why do you have to smoke when I specifically tell you not to!? " Jake practically screams at you . You were taken back with his volume and tone.

You'd never seen him so angry before.

"it's just a cig-" you try to talk but he's screaming.

"it starts with all this shit!" Jake points to the cigarette on the floor .

"and then you're out doing every drug on the planet and it'll be too late for me to stop you!" Jake yells as tears swell in your eyes . You chest hurts and your legs felt wabbly.

"give me the pack and the lighter" Jake holds his hand out for you hand it to him . You quiet slip your hand in your pocket and hand him what he asked for.

He walks away immediately , going back inside with angry steps , leaving you there on the verge of breakdown.

Josh burst out of the door as soon as Jake went in, walking up to you and hugging you as you fall into him and you sob.

"he's going through alot right now" Josh tried to soothe.

"he hates me!" You whine as you squeeze Josh .

"aw no honey. I think it's quite the opposite" Josh comforts , petting your back .

You left with Jake not soon after . You managed to pull yourself together before getting into the car as Jake drove home . Not a word was said , you couldn't even have the courage to look at him and neither did he look at you .

You went straight up to your room as soon as Jake parked. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore , you needed to cry.

You changed and got into bed and sobbed into your pillow , trying your heardest not to make a sound but you'd never cried so hard before. Seeing that side of Jake , seeing him so angry and having him yell at you made you sick to the stomach. You definitely weren't touching a cigarette after this.

"y|n?" You heard Jake call behind your door . You held your breath to keep quiet , hoping he'll think you're asleep and go away.

But your door clicked open , your body froze still , trying your hardest not go move , tears still spilling out of your eyes. Your back was facing the door as you lay on your side .

But not moving was hard when you felt the mattress sink with Jake's weight as he lay next to you , wrapping his arm around you and looking over your shoulder. He's seen you now , face puffy and covered in tears.

You spun on your other side , facing him and burying your face into his chest , letting out a sob as he hugged you tightly.

"please don't be mad at me Jake I can't stand it-!" You sob into his chest.

"it was just a cigarette- I'm sorry" you cry and Jake shushes you , you notice his body is slightly tense.

"no I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I just- I couldn't stop your dad when I had the chance and I lost him. And I can't afford to lose you too" he speaks meekly.

"Jake I'm not going to become like dad" you break away from his chest to face him , he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears away with him thumb.

"I know- but I don't want to risk it" Jake says. You couldn't blame him. Sometimes you forget that it wasn't just you that lost someone. Jake lost his best friend and he has to pretend to be fine for you. It must be hard on him too.

"you remind of him sometimes" he says , caressing your face.

"I'm not going to do that to myself. I promise" you say , trying your hardest to reassure him.

"good" he pets your head , his eyes going from your hair to all over your face. Fixing at your lips.

He wanted to kiss you . He wanted to kiss you so badly and tell you he never meant to make you cry so hard.

Instead he leans in and pecks your forehead, pulling you back into his chest , wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

You could smell his shampoo on his hair , you could smell his cologne and his bodywash on his skin. He was warm and his heart was thumping in his chest , he held you securely. It felt like he was showing more than he could tell. Jake was never one to speak what he felt . He was better showing.

You felt him place another kiss on the top of your head. He was apologizing.

You hold him tighter and rub his back to show him you understand him and that you weren't going to hold it against him for yelling at you .

You didn't realise when you'd fallen asleep untill you woke up , lying on Jake's chest as he lay on his back with his arm around you . Your legs were tangled with his.

You moved your arm that was wrapped around Jake , realising your hand was under his tshirt, resting on his bare chest .

He shuffled lightly and you look up to see his eyes half open , the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile.

"sorry. It's a habit" You sheepish smile back at him as you slip your hand out from under his tshirt and sit up. You had this thing of hugging your pillow and slipping your hand under the cover.

"s'okay" Jake smiles as he sits up with you . There it was again the urge to kiss you. And you wished he kissed you too .

"okay what do you want for breakfast? How's that piercing doing?" Jake asks as he hops out of bed and stretches.

"it hurts but it's okay" you smile as you watch him head for the door .

"soup?" He asks and you nod before he left to head downstairs.

(shit post lol)

NEXT PART

Tags :

@mackalah @mindastreamofcolours @jjwasneverhere @themoreyou-love @gvf23 @sarah-gvf01 @thetroublegetssoloud71 @violetstarcatcher @brookekiszkaa @gvfmarge @mulberrimouse @lyndz2names @imdaisyfee @klarxtr

[booksandwords]

The Boy Who Wanted to Be a Deer by Ember White. Illustrated by Marta Maszkiewicz

Age Recommendation: Pre-School Topic/ Theme: Integrity/ Authenticity (it's all about being true to yourself so...) Setting: Unspecified, America at a guess

Rating: 4/5

I never would have found this or read it without stumbling across the author on social media showing some of their... weirder reviews, and tbh asking for Aussies to balance out the crazy. I saw at least one review calling The Boy Who Wanted to be a Deer grooming and to be honest, if you want to see it that way, that's how you will see it. Though why you would choose to see it like that I don't know. That's just weird. To look at this absolutely beautiful book as something with a malicious message is beyond me. I'm glad I did read this though. Not so much for Ember White's story as lovely as it is but for Marta Maszkiewicz's stunning illustrations.

I will make some comments on Ember White's story first. Let me start by sharing a quote from one of Ember White's tumblr posts. "I wanted to tell that story of anyone's who ever felt that they didn't belong anywhere. Whether you are a nerd, autistic, queer, trans, a furry, or some combination of the above, it makes for a sad and difficult life. This isn't just my story, and this is your story as well." Ember's story is quite unlike anything I've read in a while. Their story is well thought out well, and you can see that all their heart is in their book. You can see that their book is the book that they wish they could of had as a child. Embre gives us Tommy a young boy with a secret. In his case it is a pair of deer antlers that he keeps in a box and a want to be something else. The message of The Boy Who Wanted to be a Deer is to just be you. It shows the pain of repression, the pain that happens when you try to be someone you aren't. The phrasing is beautiful and enjoyable. I can see how this could be a very good read-to, it has the right message and easily memorable writing. The choice of a deer as the animal the boy wants to be is a good one. It's one of the animals with the most diverse symbolism some of the basics are harmony, happiness and innocence (phrased as being in touch with your inner child).

I would love to know who paired illustrator, Marta Maszkiewicz and Ember White. Marta's a perfect match style-wise for Ember's script. I adore her beautiful style it feels young and playful when it needs to and adds that moment of darkness when it is necessary. Her dark stormy moments with the purples and blues have the perfect depressing tone for Tommy's sadness. Storms have a rainbow-like background a nice touch. There is a scene where Tommy is looking at potential future careers (doctor, accountant, engineer), I love the choice Marta makes to give Tommy oversized clothes, a child playing dress up. Not just playing dress up but uncomfortable and awkward more than expected. Marta has done a fantastic job of aging Tommy up from his child self to his adult self to his true self. His true self is kinda in the middle in appearance, like he has shed the weight that he was carrying around as an adult that he has now shed. The dance/performance element is executed particularly well. I can sense the movement coming off the page and that outfit is lovely. The final illustration is just beautiful it is light and hopeful and innocent. Honestly, I can't praise the illustrations enough. I really want to find more of Marta Maszkiewicz's illustrations.

This is highly controversial and will remain so. It does what Ember wanted it to, it challenges the status quo and some people aren't ready for that. But some of us, librarians, parents and those outside the neurotypical, cishet sociocultural norms that are ready for it. The ending is unexpected but I really like that The Boy Who Wanted to be a Deer chooses to break the conventions that the children's publishing by giving the reader an unexpected ending of fulfilled dreams. I'm happy I read this and I think many others willing to look beyond the judgemental reviews probably will too.

Ember White is @emberwhite on here.

[kaocat-tatatat]

just read batman #71 and that moment with Tim really pissed me off, and now I am having thoughts about comic book bruce wayne and the direction of his character.

Look I don't mind bruce not being a good parent, in fact I kinda like it, and I understand it's a part of his character complexity (especially in the the canon comics) but ffs it's just really ruins his character for him to be physically abusive. like yeah, doesn't happen often in comics (thankfully) from what I've read but it's happened a few times in the past and recently, so I still see it as a problem rather than a product of the times or whatever, I really don't like it and I'd really wish they'd stop doing it.

a bruce wayne that hits his kids is not my bruce wayne, and I can't see in any capacity how it makes any story with him in it better, or makes his character better. the only thing I can think of that it is useful in is raising stakes and making things more dramatic (for lack of a better term). like there are other ways to show bruce's unstable emotional state and short temper than having him beat his kids.

Since they seem fond of it happening repeatedly though (looking at the time he hit Dick and ofc the way he treated Jason after learning he was red hood to name the first thoughts that come to mind) I need them to address it and for him to face consequences (and learn and grow so he can become the mediocre parent he was meant to be) directly in some form or another soon because it just feels like such a horrible thing to have as a reccuring character trait, one that is displayed over multiple stories by multiple writers, and just not resolve it or develop it much? like inxmost cases they at least recognise its wrong, and maybe they even have bruce deal with it individually- but never all at once and never with him actually dealing with the consequences and changing for the better.

I mean I have tried, but imo not very well and considering hoe it pops up again and again, it doesn't last long. I do have hope though, post gotham war (and now with failsafe), I think writers have been trying to in some way have that happen. Bruce loses his wealth, money, hand, and his relationships with his children are frayed after being taken over by zur-an-arth, and has to work to get to it back. then he has to fight failsafe, and then he finally gets clarity, with what things have been building up to, with the clone situation. of course, with the ending of the most recent arc has him get to have a new beginning, with bruce getting his money back, a new house, and potentially having his children live with him again. he faced consequences for hurting people through his actions and mental state and then has to build himself up again, and finally he gets to have a redemption arc and a second chance. while I don't think it has been done in the best way (there are high highs and low lows), I can see what they are going for and hope they are taking it the direction I think they are, and finally having bruce gore to be a better parent.

i am upset it hasnt exactly been direct, which makes me worry om reading into things wrong, but its a step in the right direction, and i feel that its possible comic book bruce wayne may actually take a second chance?? don't get me wrong bruce has had plenty of second chances thrown at him by the narrative, and while I think personally that this comes a bit to late, if my reading of the recent comics and there overall themes is correct then we may, may have bruce not be physically abusive anymore ( or less emotionally abusive too, ideally)

in conclusion: let bruce wayne have character growth, permanently (I have hope, aka, I am coping) AND STOP HAVING HIM BEAT HIS CHILDREN!!! HE IS PRONE TO HURTING THE PEOPLE HE LOVES THE MOST BUT THAT DOESNT MEAN HE SHOULD PURPOSEFULLY LAY HIS HANDS ON HIM!!

I might expand on this with why so many writers choose to write him this way, where i think it comes from, and ehy i still think him being physically abusive is bad for his character and (not OOC per say because its happened too many times and in multiple points in history for it to be) but rather, just a poor take on his character, but it's currently 1:35 in the morning where I am and the only thing keeping me awake is my poor decision to hyperfixate on bruce fucking wayne of all characters, so I must pay the price

[actualbird]

// spoilers for dreams of childhood event story and also my thoughts

guess who finally finished the story? me!!! and my verdict?

ooOOOHHHHHKAY THIS WAS A GOOD ONE....I REALLY LIKED THIS EVENT STORY...

of course ever since the beginning i was like "okay stellan stone is absolutely already dead" but the reveal at the end on how and why he passed away rlly tugged at my heart strings because of how close/similar it is to what luke experiences. the protector in the shadows, the unsung hero....of course luke didnt fess the truth right away, aside from the reason explicitly stated in the story, this whole thing also hit close to him

sidenote: there it is again, the staple of event stories where the one the team is supposedly helping has already been gone from the start. and while it's a bittersweet concept, memory and hope matters.

im a sucker for this theme, im never gonna stop loving it, because it's an active rebuttal against the cynicism of "what's the point of helping now?" the point is bringing happiness and closure to the people who are still here, the point is that even if theres things stuck in the past that cannot be changed or undone, theres still joys to be had in the present and future. im emotional abt this, can u tell?

and ooOOAOOAOAOOUGGHH, THE TEAM CARING ABOUT EACH OTHERRR YES YESSSSSSSS //clapping w tears in my eyes

this is what im TALKIN ABOUT, PEOPLE!!!! no matter how much the team bickers or squabbles, at the end of the day, they are all good people. and good people care. and theyre always gonna have each other's backs...

im REALLY emotional about this, cAN U TELL.........

okay last thing for me to be emotional about: their wishes for children

i am quite sure somebody else has pointed this out before, but all their wishes connect so well with their own experiences...

luke who lost his biological parents at a young age

marius who had to deal with the unfair accountability of being blamed for his mom's death and also many more von hagen worries

vyn who was so frigging lonely growing up and did not have a good example of love and good hearts in his early life to look up to

artem's took me a second but then i remember his connects well to the plotline of his 2nd bday card story (which we dont have on global yet) but SPOILERS: somebody he looked up to became corrupt and he had to take that person down

just in case it wasnt clear the first two times i said it: IM REALLY EMOTIONAL ABOUT ALL OF THIS......

I WISH THAT TOO, MC.... GOD......