#sleeping beauty awakening fashion

[professorllayton]

when I do not understand a met gala theme it's different bc I am not out there being invited to and then styled for it. I am just chilling in my bed wondering what the common denominator is. when a celebrity doesn't understand the theme tho I think they should be pointed and laughed at of course

[bluebellhairpin]

so i attempted a few ideas based off this years MET Gala theme. naturally you get the raw sketches and annotations because otherwise I'd yap about them too much.

on a designers note: I really want to change the red in 'briar rose' and 'magnificent' to pink to match the other two. normally I am a red lady through and through, but not today. today is a pink day.

'sweet aurora' so probably my personal favorite (close second, almost equal first is 'diaval'), however I'd want to see 'magnificent' on the MET carpet the most out of them all. it gives the dramatic, rich, nepotism vibes that the event can lack sometimes.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

Diahann Carroll (Paris Blues, Carmen Jones, Porgy and Bess)— Face of an angel. She had the range. She brought chemistry with every romance she portrayed. She also had a great fashion sense, and was so pretty Mattel made a doll based off of her.

We are in the quarterfinals of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Propaganda is not my own and is on a submission basis. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Diahann Carroll:

Another groundbreaking black actress, although she might be better remembered for her television roles. She was also an activist and worked with charities to support women in need.

here she is hanging out with shadow prince anthony perkins :3

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

[ohnoitstbskyen]

thoughts on the syndra redesign that just dropped?? including old vs new splash arts!! :D

It's just a splash art refresh, so I wouldn't get too excited - Syndra's been well overdue for one of those for a while now.

It's fairly conservative as a redesign for that reason - mostly just it pulls back on the sexualization of Syndra (which her story has never supported anyway so that's a decent move), and... it gives her a face. Syndra's old splash has a very indistinct face that's mostly smudged out in the shadow of her helmet, but here we get a much more visible set of facial features which has the benefit of making her a lot more identifiable.

Much in the same way that Syndra's story doesn't really support sexualization, though, I would argue that it also doesn't really support immaculate makeup, perfect nails, high-end Dark Queen fashion and flawless smooth skin.

Syndra is a rage-driven, traumatized, magical explosion machine, who spent literal centuries sleeping imprisoned in a pool of magic water and upon awakening tore a mountain out of the ground and flew off to live alone on it, because she fundamentally does not want to be around people. She hates them, they are the source of her pain.

But she's designed to look like a cool, calculated, scheming Evil Sorceress who lives all day in a big opulent castle, sending servants into the world to do her dark bidding while reclining in a bed attended by captured slaves. There's a disconnect there - the design is trying to communicate a rather different character than how she's actually written.

Personally I'd like to see a Syndra who is wild and maybe a little bit feral, or hermit-like, an isolated lonely misanthrope who lashes out against others and uses her power to control and dominate her environment and others by sheer force and power rather than by any form of subtle manipulation or social intimidation. Less cool, calculated Maleficent evil queen self-control, more Carrie, more unstoppable force of nature.

There's this unexamined Default™ priority with female characters in League of Legends to make them look cool, beautiful and glamorous, regardless of whether that's what their story or concept actually invites, and I think it occludes a bunch of more interesting and unique design options. Syndra is an example of that.

Like, the best design Ahri's ever had was in the Ruined King game, where they leaned into her feral and animalistic nature, to better tell the story of how she's struggling between her desire to be human and her Vastayan instinct to feed and hunt

It didn't desexualize her or make her not beautiful in any way, but it did, at least, allow for something other than the immaculately composed not-a-hair-out-of-place silky smooth Default™ beauty that dominates her League of Legends incarnation to be a part of her visual storytelling, and I think she was a lot better for it.

I wouldn't mind if Syndra got that treatment as well.

[man3at3r-mp4]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖗 𝕷𝖆𝖒𝖇 - 𝖍𝖍 𝖝 𝕸𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 Ⅰ : 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆

Prologue Chapter 3.5

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Lamb (noun) - a young sheep.

In biblical scriptures, the lamb is supposed to represent Christ as suffering and triumph. Lambs are also commonly referred to as sacrificial animals. But can also symbolize innocence, purity, and forgiveness.

The wind whirled gently, as the sun began to awaken. Signifying a new day, as all of the residents of heaven were already going on about their day. One without any hardships or disappointment, as bad days don't exist in heaven and there never will be. All the angels were up.

Except one.

Soft snores could be heard echoing throughout the luxurious bedroom, the white and light blue colored walls, with accented golden windows, you'd think it'd be a bit bright to sleep in this room. Well, not if you're as tired as Y/n.

Which you were, since you are him.

You nuzzled into the soft velvety pillow, as you continued to sleep. A small a bit of drool running down the corner of your mouth.

Ah, you lucky bitch, you know the sleep is good if you're drooling.

Skelly laid at the end of your bed, curled up against the head, as he also snored softly. A small snot bubble rising from his nose everytime he exhaled.

Sucks, you can't sleep forever.

"Y-.....w.....e....u.."

Your lamb ears flicked a bit, at the sound of your name being called but you simply shuffled your position on your bed, and resumed your sleep. 

"Y/n..."  you heard a familiar voice call.

"Nooo~ Alucard you can't put your hand there...hehehee." You chuckled almost drunkenly, in your sleep.

"Y/n, it's 8:30...we're already an hour behind schedule"

At this, you managed to crack one eye open. "Huh..?" You croaked out, tiredly. As you began to go over the information that had just been fed to you in your head.

'8:30....hour behind schedule'

Your eyes suddenly shot open, as you jolted up into a sitting position. Scaring the shit out of Skelly, as he fell to the ground at your fast movements.

  "8:30?!?!?" You screamed, leaping out of bed. "IMLATEIMLATEIMLATE-" you immediately, rushed to the bathroom to try and ready yourself.

"It's fucking 6:30...." you deadpanned, as you sat in front of your vanity, as multiple sets of hands began to do your make up and tame your wild hair.

"Blame it on yourself, for why we had to wake you up so early. Everytime we wake you up at 7 you somehow always manage to be late..also cursing? Prince Y/n, you know that's a sin right? Your sisters would go crazy" a feminine and graceful  voice said teasingly, it belong to your make up artist, named Miko. She was pastel purple and white Angel, she resembled a secretary bird. You remembered seeing one once, on your secret expeditions to earth. They were goregous, and so was Miko. Her attire was extravagant, it matched the heavenly color scheme of white, blue and gold, but added in some new colors. Which, you appreciated. Honestly you were getting sick, of all the white.

"Hmph, well so is lying.." you muttered, sarcastically.

"He got you there Miko.." a masculine voice chuckled. That voice belonged to your hair stylist, Elijah. He was an Angel that resembled his human self in his past life. Except his skin was now tinted a purple undertone, his pinkish hair was styled in twists, and his gold colored freckles littered his face. He still retained his New York styles street wear fashion, in heaven.  You would have thought he was human if he didn't have. heart shaped antennas sticking out of his head, as well as a halo and a pair of wings.

Miko rolled her eyes, "shut up, you wanna talk about sinning? How about your outfit? Girl, those colors are clashing with your eyes.." 

Elijah gasped dramatically, as he placed a hand on his chest. "Oh, you don't even wanna go there. Ms. Trashy blend" he snaps back.

"Excuse me? That blend was beautiful!"

"Girl please, all you ended up doing is making yourself look like a shitty Christmas tree"

" all because I used green and red?"

"You used the brightest red possible, I thought your ass was about to glow in the dark"

"Oh you-"

"Ladies, ladies" you finally butted in. "You're both ugly, let's quiet down"

They both went silent, glancing at each other before speaking up.

"Course you'd know about ugly y/n"

"Hey!" You huffed.

"Remember last year when he decided to get bangs?" Elijah snickered.

"Remember?! I cant forget it!" Miko replied, laughing. You crossed your arms, as you pouted.

"They weren't THAT bad"

"Honey, you looked like Will Byers from stranger things with that fuck ass little Bob of yours"

Miko bursted out laughing, holding her stomach as she stumbled back a bit. Elijah laughed along with her, as he leaned against her.  While you sat their, cheeks flushed in embarrassment with a pout on your face. Though you struggled to keep your pout, since that was pretty funny.

"Ugh whatever, whatever" you rolled your eyes playfully. "Just finish getting me ready, before I have you all sent into the firey pits of hell" you scoffed, pointing your nose up snobbishly. Exaggerating your voice in a British accent.

"Oh yes sir!"

"Of course, your majesty!"  They both played along, acting meek as they copied a British accent.

"Just don't hurt me your highness! I need my 15 shillings to feed my family!" Elijah cried, dramatically.

"Then work faster peasants, chop chop!" You huffed, clapping your hands to insinuate how 'serious' you were.

Soon enough, you were ready for the day, your hair styled, your makeup done, and Elijah was currently done firring your clothes.

"Does his majesty, find his wardrobe to his liking?" Miko asked, in her fake British accent.

"It is adequate ." You replied, before you dropped the act smiling sincerely. "I look great, thank you both." You reply.  "You both are like the greatest make up and hair stylist in heaven"

Miko rolls her eyes playfully, " We know, babe" she teased.

You sighed as you stood up, "Y'know you two don't have to go all out on me all the time. I barely leave the castle"

"And who's fault is that?" Elijah asked, giving you a knowing look. "If you weren't always trying to sneak down to hell, maybe Sera would actually let you out more". You frowned, groaning.

"Ugh! I know! But still, that doesn't give her the right to keep me couped up in here! What am I? Rapunzel?" You replied, sarcastically.

"I mean you got the naivety, ditziness, and stubborn attitude all you need to do is grow your hair out and run around barefoot." Miko says, as she began to pack away her make up kit.

"Har har har.." you scoffed, "I am not running around with my hooves out"

"What Miko is trying to say" Elijah butted in. "Is that we want to go all out on you, your our friend boo. You deserve it"

Miko hums, "Yeah, plus why does it matter? Ugh, don't tell me you're worried Adam is gonna call you gay again just cause you wear make up..."

You puffed out her cheeks, as your form stiffened. "No! Of course not! I don't care what Adam thinks! He's just some guy who didn't age out of his  frat boy jock stage. Which is weird...since he wasn't even alive when frats or jocks were a thing...but you get the point."

"Anyways we're heading out.." Elijah says, as he wraps an arm around Milo's neck. "We're meeting up with Molly for smoothies later.."

Your smile dropped, "smoothies? Ugh! Lucky! I wish I could go...but I have to do stupid royal stuff.." your crossed your arms. "Wait? Smoothies now? Isn't it a bit too early?"

Miko shrugged, "we're in heaven baby, it's never to late for smoothies". You rose a brow, narrowing your eyes.

"Elijah doesn't even have any sugar till past 12-" your eyes widened in realization. "Oh you assholes, you two are ditching me before Lia-!"

Just like that, your bedroom door, slammed open. Scaring Skelly, who was fast asleep on your window sill, causing him to fall once more. There stood another Angel, he had one giant golden eye, no mouth, and whispy purplish blue flame hair. He wore a fancy suit with a sweater vest, all in blue white and gold.

"Prince Y/n! You're late! Late late!" He called out, rushing over to you. Unfortunately for you, he was an inch or two taller than you.

"Good morning, Liam.." you spoke, flashing a nervous smile before glancing past him over towards Elijah and Miko. Your smile dropping, as you narrowed your eyes at them. As they both blew you kisses and waves before they rushed out the door.

You sighed, before turning to look back at the rambling Angel in front of you. "You have so many things to get done today, are you ready Prince Y/n?" he summoned a scroll into his hand.  Your shoulders dropped, you were truly getting tired of this routine. But you put on a brave face, as you nodded.

"Ready as I'll ever be ."

.- .-.. .-.. / .. -. .... .- -... .. - .- -. - ... / --- ..-. / - .... . / . .- .-. - .... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .-- --- .-. ... .... .. .--. / - .... . / -... . .- ... - / .- .-.. .-.. / .-- .... --- ... . / -. .- -- . ... / .... .- ...- . / -. --- - / -... . . -. / .-- .-. .. - - . -. / .. -. / - .... . / .-.. .- -- -... .----. ... / -... --- --- -.- / --- ..-. / .-.. .. ..-. . --..-- / - .... . / .-.. .- -- -... / .-- .... --- / .-- .- ... / ... .-.. .- .. -. / ..-. .-. --- -- / - .... . / -.-. .-. . .- - .. --- -. / --- ..-. / - .... . / .-- --- .-. .-.. -.. .-.-.- .-. . ...- . .-.. .- - .. --- -. / .---- ...-- ---... ---.

Little authors note here, y'all are free to interpret Y/ns lamb design in anyway you want. He can be a full on furry/ anthro creature  like Husk or Angel Dust. Or he could be like alastor and Charlie and just have animal characteristics like ears/hooves/ horns etc. but they maintain a relatively human appearance. It's up to y'all <33 it doesn't affect the story in anyway. I just mention Y/n has hooves cause he canonically does.

[estellaestella]

Ok, place your bets on Timmy at Met Gala 2024! Do u think he'll go? Yes or No?

The theme of "Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion” easily lends itself to a Paul Muad'Dib look, since he undergoes several important awakenings and is bit of a dreamer. Something Bene Gesserit-y could kill us all be so much fun!

[frompearl]

Mrs. Afton’s Daily Life: ONE

Warnings: Age-Gap, Unhealthy Relationships, Unplanned Pregnancy, William being manipulative, NSFW mention, Physical Abuse towards Reader (not from William), Unedited, Very Problematic Behavior™ Overall,

A/N: Ok ngl not too proud of this but please enjoy!

If you were to ask William Afton what were his biggest blessings in life, with zero hesitation the man would answer his wife. He blindly believes that he is also a blessing in her life. 

However.

His obsession with her had ruined her life. 

He had met her when she was eighteen, a beautiful face that he was enamored with immediately. Her shy but kind demeanor had him wrapped around her little finger. He had only talked to her once before he had started to stalk her. The college she would be attending, where she worked, where she lived, everything. He kept track of where she was all the time and he had never felt happier. 

His booming business at Afton Robotics and the Freddy Fazbear Franchise were the second thing that brought him joy, now it was her. 

Then he approached her, all nervous even though he was twenty seven and a tall man. It seemed to a degree, he had the same effect on her. Not as obsessive as he was, but she still loved him nonetheless. 

Even when her friends told her he was not good for her when he was almost a decade older than her. Not even when people would give them concerned looks when they would see her innocent face and his lecherous hold on her. 

Her parents were old fashioned and would be furious if they found out she was with someone way older, is what she told him when he asked to meet them.

He respected her wish but that didn’t deter him from making himself comfortable in her life. They would meet him one way or another because he would be the man who would marry her. Whether they liked it or not. 

He started to take up too much space in her life. The free time she would go with friends or enjoy her solitude, we’re all ignored in dedication to him. She was never alone for he would always be right behind her.

He would whisper venom in her ears, telling her how all she needed was him and that the rest were insignificant. As the naive little rabbit she was, she clung onto every word he spewed from that treacherous mouth. 

She hadn’t realized how she was losing herself to him until she was given a rude awakening. 

The ringing of her telephone had woken her from her sleep, the loud tone ripping her from her blissful sleep.

Her friend, who she hadn’t talked to since she started dating William, had begged her to come to her college because her boyfriend was screaming at one of the professors.

She remembered faintly, as she laid on his bare chest after he made love to her. She confessed that her professor had spoken to the directors of a university she wanted to attend. She smiled happily at how grateful she was towards her professor for he had made it possible for her to take a step forward to her dream career. 

The talk of her dream school was always a sensitive topic around William. It was states away and he had been adamant on wanting her here. He had assumed she wouldn’t be able to attend because she had stayed quiet. But now…

She should have known something was wrong when his grip had tightened on her and he had not responded. 

When she came to her class, she had been shocked to see William pummeling the poor professor to the ground. Two students were trying to rip him away but his big stature made it impossible.

It was only until she cried out for him to stop that the all consuming rage he was in stopped. 

Seeing her terrified eyes spilling with tears as she begged him to stop hitting the old man made him feel regretful.

Not the old man’s blood on his hands or the traumatized faces of the college students watching. Those big e/c eyes looking at him with fear was what made him regret his decision. 

The poor man who had done nothing but help Y/N get a step closer to fulfilling her dreams was crying weakly from the agonizing pain of his broken face bleeding heavily. 

He was all but forgotten, as William stepped over his body towards the cowering little lady. 

She looked fearful of him as he clasped her face in his bloodied hands. The crimson color smeared against her tear-stained cheeks. 

“My dear please. This man wanted to separate us. He wanted to send you to that horrible school where you would be far away from me. Don’t you see how this would hurt us?” He tried to sway her with soothing words, the way he would always be able to manipulate her into doing what he wanted.

But not today.

She screamed and pushed him away as she ran out of the building.  He wanted to pursue her but he was tackled down by a police officer he hadn’t even seen sneaking up in him.

The gut wrenching scream he let out haunted her as she jumped in her car and sped off.

Everything seemed to go downhill from there. The professor who was assaulted had quit his job, for fear of being hurt in a place he deemed safe. He refused to answer to any of his students, especially to Y/N as she desperately tried to contact him.

She was worried for the well being of the man who had helped her. The man she had seen as a father figure when her own had looked down at her for being a woman. 

The professor did not want to see her and she could do nothing but wallow in misery of the lost connection. 

She was also scared of Willaim. She knew how controlling he was and against her furthering her education. She didn’t even want to see him.

She had not talked to William since that day. She had thought he would have been arrested but the constant calls she received from him proved otherwise.

He was put into police custody for the night and was left off with a warning in the morning. The authority was nothing to him when he opened his wallet.

He tried calling her, showing up in places he knew she would be it, anything to see her.

But the little rabbit avoided him so well. It made him foam at the mouth the more he couldn’t see her. 

He wished he could continue to hunt her down and demand why she was avoiding him but his ownership at the pizzeria took up most of his time. 

Until one day she called him after three weeks of silence.

“I’m pregnant.” She whimpered, “I thought the pill worked! But I called the company and they told me there was the risk that sometimes it won’t work and-“

His head was rushing with thoughts. 

Pregnant. She was pregnant. 

He never thought much of fatherhood but just thinking of a cute chubby baby with black hair and her big e/c eyes. He felt his possessiveness grow, a feeling to have her with him at an instant.  

“I’m going to abort it, I’m going to my dream school and I just can’t take care of a baby right now. I felt that you should know.” 

And just like that she went along and ruined it. She ruined it by running away from him and now she wanted to kill the product of their love.

He wouldn’t let her. But this time he would play his cards right. 

“I understand,” he feigned his tone, “when and where will you do it? I’ll pay for it.” He knew she wouldn't be able to afford an abortion, being a college student and her traditionalist parents would have a meltdown if she asked them to help her pay for her abortion. Meanwhile his earnings from the Fazbear company left him with too much money for him to handle. He usually would spend it spoiling her but now he would have to support the little baby growing inside her.

As the naive little bunny she was, she told him where she planned to abort the baby. 

After the call he dialed another number.

He knew it would break her heart, the things he would do to her. But it was for the best.

The morning of the planned abortion, Y/N had received a call from the director of her college.

When she was met by the cold tone of the director of her college, her eyes began to water.

“What are these accusations?” Her lip trembled, “I would never do such a thing!”

“Ms. L/N, the anonymous tip we received has enough evidence to prove you guilty of the attack of that poor old man. You're lucky your professor hasn’t decided to press charges against you.” 

“But I would never hurt him! I don’t know what got into William when he attacked him but please understand I had nothing to do with it.”

“Save your breathe L/N, like I said, the only punishment that you will receive is expulsion from our school and that school he helped you get in? They have taken back their offer, you will not be attending their institution anytime soon.”

Y/N felt her world crumble down. “Y-you can’t do that.” She said in a trembling voice, “you don’t know how hard I worked to get into that school, please understand!” She started to sob.

The unsympathetic woman only sighed disappointed,”yes and for that it's a shame such a bright woman like yourself did this. You do know this will go on your record? Good luck getting into a college that will accept you, goodbye Ms. L/N.”

Like that the phone line went dead and with it your hope and aspirations.

But the universe couldn’t leave you alone.

Before you could bury your face in your hands and cry, there was a sudden banging at your door.

“Y/N!” You hear your mother screeching at you through the door. 

The second bang to the door pushes you to run towards the door.

When you open it you’re met by your father’s disappointed face and your mother’s furious snarl.

“You little slut!” She screams at your face pushing you back.

You fall against the floor, looking at her bewildered, “w-what?” 

“How dare you spread your legs like a common whore, have you no chastity?” She grabs at your hair, dragging you to your feet. 

You tremble under her crazed stare as she shakes you,”we let you pursue your silly education and this is how you repay us?! By getting pregnant out of wedlock?! What will people say about us?!” 

A strangled cry escapes your lips as you’re thrown across the room, your mother following you with raised fists. 

She starts to slap at your face as you feebly try to cover your face. You look at your father who stares at you as your mother attacks you.

“Dad!” You cry out reaching out to him before being smacked in the face. 

He stays complacent, unwilling to help you, eyes showing no mercy.

And yet you desperately continue to call out to him, “dad-! Daddy!” Another shrill cry escapes you as your mother pulls on your hair. She drags you across the room livid out of her mind. 

“If you’re such a whore, I’ll treat you like one! I’m going to strip you naked in the streets so that everyone can see how you have disgraced yourself! You little bitch!” You cry out as she starts to rip at your clothes.

“No stop! Stop it!” The flowery blouse that William had gifted you tears under her harsh grip.

Cheeks flush in embarrassment as you cover your chest as she begins to rip at your skirt.

“STOP!” You screech as you sock her right in her face. She stumbles backwards silently, spitting out a tooth. You cover your mouth in shock, not meaning to hurt her so badly. 

The look she gives you is reminiscent of a wild animal as she lunges at you.

“THAT’S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU!” A bigger body covers you from the incoming attack, the familiar British accent you know rough with rage. 

William shoves the woman to the ground, his eyes screaming murder as he shakes with rage.

“How dare you attack my pregnant wife like that you stupid cunt!” He spits at her as grabs her by the neck, lifting her off the ground. She grabs at his neck as his grip tightens. 

Your mother’s predatory gaze shrivels up into prey as she starts to beg for him to let go. You’re still stunned from her attacks, cupping the bruises on your face. Your father finally intervenes to save your mother, successfully getting her out of Willliam’s deadly grip.

“You’re a disgrace of a mother and I never want you to come near us again.” He threatened, “or else I won’t hold back next time.” 

The older couple glanced at each other before silently walking away. Tails tucked between their legs. 

As he watches them walk away, he hears your silent sobs as you wobbly get up. 

He runs back to your side, hugging you in his arms. “It’s ok, I'm right here.” He picks you up in a princess carry, carrying you back to your house.

You’re too distraught to notice how he locks the door behind him and how his eyes hold a satisfied look.

Getting to your room, he places you on the bed gently before turning to your cloth drawers. He takes out one of his shirts (that he’s mildly surprised you still have some of his clothes) and turns to you. He gets you out of the ruined clothes and into the shirt that dwarfs you in size. 

“Sweety let me see.” He mumbles gripping your chin to see the extent of the bruises on your face. Your poor lovely face was ruined by the wretch. When he had sent the recording of your conversation about getting rid of his child, (for he recorded all of your messages and calls together, he always wanted to remember every word you shared.) he had sent the recording to your parents in the form of a tape. He was grateful for her parents being old fashioned, because they had made his plan of locking her in with him that much easier. They would disown her and she would have no one to turn to. He made sure of that by getting her kicked out of her college and the offer of that horrible dream school. He went a step further by going to her workplace and sending in her letter of renouncement. He had mimicked the way she wrote and forged her signature at the end of the letter. The manager had taken it as believable and n had packed up all her working supplies in a box for him. A box that he would dump in a trash can, she would no longer need it in her future with him. He made sure to visit all of her friends and tell them lies about how Y/N never liked them. He would venomously lie about how Y/N only was friends with them to take advantage of them. They were all disgusted and vowed to never talk to her again. She was completely alone.

And finally he took care of her planned abortion. He had called the place and put on his most pitiful acting. He had told them that the woman who planned it (his girlfriend) had decided to keep it and would be moving states with him pretty soon. Which was all a lie, but the overworked employer had only responded with a monotone “ok.” 

There was some truth to his lie, he did plan on taking her somewhere far away from her here. He would convince her that all those silly dreams she had were nothing and that she would be most happy as his housewife. 

He held her as she silently cried in his chest, the sick bastard taking advantage of her vulnerability by telling her that she was alone and her future was over. How no one else wanted her but him. He would protect her from all the bad if she just did this one little thing for him.

“Marry me and keep our child.” He had murmured in her ears, “if you do this, it will make me very happy.” She had been shocked out of mind, ripping herself away from him and staring at him with horrified eyes. 

“I-I can’t! I’m too young to marry and I don’t want to be a mother!” The warm look in his eyes immediately disappeared, making his onyx eyes even darker. 

“Then I will leave you like everyone else. Don’t you see? I’m all you have now, you won’t be able to get a stable job, you have no money, you have no friends, no parents. I’m. All. You.  Have.” He hissed out grabbing her by the cheeks and squishing them together. Her teary eyes welling up as she whimpered, his eyes softened for a fraction before they hardened again.

“If you don’t do this for me, I will leave you and you will never hear from me ever again.” Of course that was a complete lie, she had no choice but to marry him. He would have her as his, willingly or forcefully. He much preferred willingly but he had no problem taking her forcefully.

“Don’t go!” She cried out clinging onto him, his lips twitching into a smile for he knew he had won.

“I’ll marry you, I’ll keep this baby but please don’t leave me!” She cried out, “you’re all I have!” 

Once he knew she had accepted her place in his life, he had wrapped his arms around her. “Shh shh, that’s a good girl.” He reached into his pocket, taking out a small black box. He took her hand into his and slipped on the diamond ring on her ring finger. He placed a kiss on her hand as he cupped her face, “I will make you happy and you will never want for anything else when you’re with me.” 

He had forced his place in her life, making him an immovable force. After that day he had packed all her things into his truck and had carried her to it. He drove for days to their new home, one of his properties near the Fazbear establishment. He had been thinking of moving there for a while, thanks to the close distance but never did because he was dating Y/N. Now he had a good reason for that would be the place he would keep her and the baby safe.

When they made it to the house he had held her close to his chest. He placed both her hands on her stomach before giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You will not regret this.”

He had married her when she was eighteen and he was twenty seven. The wedding was a private matter with only his business partner Henry as a witness to the marriage.

William chose to ignore how Henry had stared wide eyed at how young his bride to be was. 

Instead he basked in the sight of his blushing bride who had looked at him with big e/c eyes as she said, “I do.”

The baby would be born in October and William felt that his life was complete. As his wife smiled at him tiredly from the harsh hours of labor. 

A baby boy with his tufts of black hair and rosy cheeks stared up at him. Unfortunately, he didn’t inherit his mother’s pretty e/c eyes but instead his plain black ones. His son was the spitting image of him, from his little nose to the shape of his mouth. The only thing he inherited from his mother was her skin color and the texture of her hair. 

William had only sighed internally, ‘oh well, the next one will look like her.’ 

He leaned down to place a kiss on his little forehead, his son’s black eyes widening before he started to cry out for his mother. 

His poor wife practically sat up despite the soreness of childbirth and reached out her hands. “Please give me back Michael.” 

He raised an eyebrow, before placing the weeping baby into her arms, “thought of a name already, have you?” 

She shyly smiled, “I really like the name Michael.”

The next years flew by fast. She accepted her role as his housewife and mother like he knew she would. He would come home from a long day at work to his lovely wife making dinner and his babbling son reaching for him from his high chair. He felt blissful in his new life, the Fazbear company was running along smoothly, he had a cute son and a cuter wife that he obsessed over. Other than a few disagreements with her over her going back to school (how he wished she would just give up) everything went by fine. 

He was able to convince her to give him two more children to add to their little family. This time around they looked like exact copies of his beautiful Y/N. The little boy, which he had named Evan, inherited those big e/c eyes he adored and he was an exact replica of his darling wife. Ever since Michael decided he was a big boy and that being babied by his dad (but not his mom) was not cool, William had defeatedly accepted that his days of cuddling his son were over. That was until Evan was born, who stared up at him with big e/c eyes. When William had kissed him on the forehead, the little boy had only looked back at him with wonder. In areas where Michael was a boisterous toddler that would wrestle his way out of William’s arms whenever he held him, Evan was the complete opposite. 

The sweet boy would coo at him and cuddle into his arms. He would be compliant whenever William bottle fed him. Anytime he would cry a quick reassuring word from his papa would make the tears go away. It was a bigger contrast to Michael who would throw full on tantrums and have meltdowns every other day. William would try to calm him down but would have to accept that the only way to calm him down was through the angel that was Y/N. If it was the rare day where he was left alone with his two sons, William would pray that Michael didn’t cry because he couldn’t do anything to appease him. With that William came to favor Evan more over Michael. He knew it was bad to choose favorites, but who could blame him? Michael was a little brat that took away most of the attention of Y/N and would cry whenever he didn’t get his way. Meanwhile William didn’t mind Evan taking up Y/N’s time, in his eyes Evan was just a smaller version of Y/N who could do no wrong. The little h/c haired boy had the sweetest smile reminiscent of his mother’s. His cold heart warmed a little every time he saw Evan running to him after a day at work. 

If Evan made William’s heart warm, then his little Elizabeth made his heart melt. The little girl was her mother all over again. From the pictures of his wife as a baby, the little baby girl was the spitting image. Just like with Evan, he would be a more active parent figure in her life. He would observe how Y/N would take care of her needs, from the little exercises the doctor recommended, to how Y/N would gently tie her little hairs into cute little hairstyles she would learn from the neighborhood housewives. 

Soon enough it would be him helping in brushing out her soft hair and tying them in pastel little bows. Her little excited squeals whenever he would play peek-a-boo made him die every time from adoration. He would spoil both Evan and Elizabeth in sweets and toys, giving them whatever they wanted. 

His possessiveness not only grew with his wife but it extended with his two younger children as well. So much so that he forced Evan to be homeschooled by a private tutor he had hired. He planned to do the same with Elizabeth when she started her schooling. Y/N had meekly argued that it was a necessary part of Evan’s development to be around more little kids his age. William had waved her off stating that he only needed his family. “Unless you want to have more children?” He had eyed her suggestively, she had shut down the idea, not wanting to get pregnant so soon after giving birth to her daughter. 

All of his love and devotion were centered around his wife and two younger children, that he completely neglected his oldest son. 

While Elizabeth and Evan were kept in the house, Michael was practically forced out. William put him in the public school’s kindergarten and Y/N along with his siblings would have to drop him off every morning. Those trips in the morning were more exciting compared to the boring school day he would have. On important days, Y/N would take them to McDonald’s to get them pancakes for breakfast. Even though William had forbide them from going there, for being direct competitors against Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Michael would be surrounded by the smiling faces of his mother, little brother, and baby sister. Every time he would be dropped off, he would whine when his mother would tell him to kiss her and his siblings goodbye. He would always be discreet and make sure none of his classmates would see him. He didn’t need them to make fun of him more than they already did. These loving moments between his mother and siblings would overshadow his depressing relationship with his father.

William would pick him up from school, but instead of the joyous smile his father would give his siblings, he would just grunt ‘how was school?‘ To which Michael would blandly remark, ‘good.’ For he knew that his father was completely uninterested in whatever he had to say.

Even at the young age of five, Michael had realized that he was unwanted by his father.

He never could understand why his father looked at him with indifference when he was practically wrapped around his younger siblings’ fingers. Michael had wondered that if he had the same eye and hair color of his siblings, if his father would have loved him more. If he looked more like his mother would his father give him the time of day? Y/N, aware of the unfair treatment that his son was facing from his father, doubled down on her parenting. In areas where William would ignore Michael whenever he was at home, Y/N made sure to reach out towards him and ask him how he was feeling. She would spoil him by making his favorite foods and desserts. Whenever she would wake up to his small sniffling in the night, she would leave the tight grip of her husband and enter his room. Each and every time she would hold him and calm him down. Whether it would be a nightmare or his sadness from being alone at school or the absence of his father, she wouldn’t leave until he calmed down. Sometimes he would bury himself in the comfort of his mother’s embrace and ask her to not leave until he falls asleep. Half-asleep already, Y/N would mumble an agreement before drifting off to sleep as well.

It would not be until the morning where she would be shaken awake by William. His face pulled into a frown as he stared disapprovingly of her leaving their bed. 

Now sure they had their disagreements. Originally they were around his refusal to let her go back to college but those ended when Y/N had given up. Now they were centered around Michael.

“The teacher said he got into a fight today.” Y/N had mentioned as she folded her children’s clothes, “she says he’s been having issues with getting along with the other children. He always spends his time alone at school.” 

William had just shrugged off her concerns, “Y/N kids fight. It’s a normal part of life and sometimes the violent response is the better option. As for the no friends part- Just look at me! I didn’t have any friends all my schooling years and I turned out fine! Doesn’t sound like anything bad to me.” 

Y/N looked at him bewildered, “William I’m sorry you had to experience that but he’s a little boy! I don’t want him to get into fights or be alone all the time…”

William just sighed, “well you’re a better mother than my mum was if you think that way..” 

Her pretty e/c eyes nervously looked down at the folded pile, the way she bit her lip was the signal that she was about to say something that William wasn’t going to like. 

“Listen, the school semester just started and it’s not too late to enroll Evan..”

William’s neutral expression turned into a scowl.  “We are not going to enroll Evan in a public school. He’s doing just fine in homeschooling.” 

Y/N shook her head as she turned her attention to him, her e/c eyes filled with an unyielding determination.

“His tutor retired and hiring another one is a bigger hassle than simply enrolling him in the public school. Besides, Michael won’t be alone anymore and he’d at least have his brother with him at school.”

“No,” William glowered, “Evan will not go to school. I will find him another bloody tutor even if it costs me more. My word is final.” 

It would seem that William had gotten soft on her over the years for she didn’t submit to his demands as easily as she used to.

“Every time we drop Michael off at school, Evan’s always asks when he will get to go there. Don’t you see, William? Evan wants to go to school and he wants to play with the other children. He misses his brother all day long and he’s bored out of his mind with just the tutor! A little boy shouldn’t be trapped in a house and Lord knows I can’t entertain him all the time! My hands are full with Elizabeth. He deserves to have fun all the time instead of short periods of time when Elizabeth takes her naps!” She takes a deep inhale of air from her outburst before calming down.

William’s stares shocked her. His previous ire melting away to guilt. He hadn’t realized how his decision to keep Evan at home caused bigger issues. Just imagining his poor boy bored out of his mind and his sweet Y/N trying her best to maintain both he and his sister at the same time. He hadn't realized this for he was at work all the time.

“Fine.” William grumbled, “you can enroll him in school.”

Y/N let out a sigh of relief, thinking she had to beg on her knees to get him to agree.

“Thank you,” she says leaning in to give him a kiss on the lips.

He leaned in, grabbing at her hips, squeezing the plentiful flesh. Many men say that pregnancy ruins their wives, but William wholeheartedly disagrees. Not only did she give him two beautiful children and Michael, but her figure had also drastically changed.

Her once thin body had flourished with the pregnancy weight. Her hips had gotten wider which he always grabbed to pull her close to him. She had a cute little tummy that he would squeeze whenever she was cooking. She would always squeal and hit him out of embarrassment but he would only kiss her cheek. Not to mention her thighs were so pillowy and soft. Oftentimes William would daydream at work about said thighs. Of having her thighs wrapped around his head as he went to town on her sweet cunt. 

Her ass and breasts had gotten larger, enough of the times he would smack her on the ass whenever she would be bent down helping Michael with his homework. She would glare at him while he gave her a mischievous look.

Not to mention the beautiful rack of tits she possessed. After a long day at work, he felt that it was worth it if it meant he could bury his face between her breasts. He loved to fondle them between his large hands, knowing there would be plenty of soft flesh for him to grab.

She would always whine at him to be gentle for she didn’t want to accidentally lactate. ‘It’s so embarrassing,’ she would hitch out between moans as he squeezed her breasts. Between the rough pounding of his hips against hers, she would squirm away from his kisses that would tickle her neck all the way to her chest. He would never suck on her nipples but he would suck hickies all over her breasts. Small bruises littering her heaving breasts as she cried out as he played with her little clit. The intense rubbing of his fingers on the bundle of nerves, his kisses on her chest, and the harsh thrusts he would deliver to her weeping core had her crying out as she orgasmed. 

Her warm insides would clench on his member, so tightly enough for him groan as he released inside her. Their soft panting is the only sound in the room. He would lean in to kiss her on the lips, tongue sneaking into her panting mouth as she reciprocated the kiss. 

Just like now as she leans away from the kiss.

“Thank you William.” She softly smiled as she walked away to get started on dinner. He stares mesmerized by the swaying of her hips. He made a mental note to hire a babysitter soon. One that could take the children away for a day or two so that he could make himself home in her warm cunt. It’s been a while since they last made love, they were too busy with the children and the stress of keeping quiet to keep their children in the unknown. He swore that the minute they were out of the house he was going to rip her from her clothes and start fucking her where ever they were at. It didn’t matter if they were at the entrance of the house or the kitchen. He was going to batter her pussy so good that she would be crying out in overstimulation. It had been a while since he had overstimulated her, he couldn’t wait to hear her cry out for him to give her a break from their love making. He would have fucked her in so many positions, Full Nelson, Doggstyle, you name it. When she’s beg for him to stop pounding into her sensitive cunt, he’d only respond by locking her in a mating press that would definitely guarantee her getting pregnant with his fourth child-

He needed to hire a babysitter as soon as possible.

The day of Evan’ first day of school was unlike no other. You had taken the children to McDonalds as per tradition. You sipped on your hot coffee as you watched Evan fidget from the corner of your eye. He had been so excited to finally attend a school where there would be many children his age. He had talked about it non stop these past days, going on to annoy his older brother with his questions. “It’s not as great as you think it is,” Michael grumbled out. His negative commentary was ignored by Evan running around the house with stars in his eyes.

That excited energy he had leading up to his first day of school had vanished when he got onto the drive there.

Now he nervously fidgeted with the toy he got from the happy meal. Anxiously awaiting for the ride to be over. When you had parked the car in the parking lot you turned around to give him a warm smile. The sweet boy only smiled nervously back, as he glanced at the many kids who were already walking in with their parents. Michael had told you beforehand he felt embarrassed walking in with Evan on his first day, so you gave him the go ahead to walk in first.  He had quickly kissed your cheek and leaned in the back seat to kiss Elizabeth’s chubby cheek. She let out a giggle as she cooed at him. His black eyes softened for a moment before his eyes turned to Evan. He gave him a quick nod which the smaller boy reciprocated. He hopped out of the car with a “see you later.” Being in second grade he already was familiar with his school and felt confident enough to walk alone. 

Evan watched after him owlishly, impressed by how cool his older brother looked walking without any of their parents. He wanted to be just like him. 

“Evan.” You softly say, his big e/c eyes snap back onto your own. His worried little face 

reminded you of how you felt when it was your first day of school. You nostalgically remember how your mother had forced you into an uncomfortable dress and had pulled your hair into a tight ponytail. You remember how your parents had just left you in front of the school before driving off. You were lost on your first day and arrived late to your classroom. The teacher had grabbed your hand tightly and had pulled out a ruler to smack your arm red and raw. You remember the humiliation as the other children laughed at you as tears ran down your chubby cheeks.

Suddenly Evan’s not the only anxious person in the car as you start to worry about him. Was this a good idea? Should you have just let William find him another tutor so that he can continue being homeschooled? What if the other children started to bully him? What if one of the teachers hit him? The times were different now where teachers weren’t allowed to hit their students. But Lord help you, you may not be able to fight any little kids, but you would jump on any teacher who even thought about hurting your baby. 

“Mama.” His soft voice echoed in the car, “I think I’m ready.” His determined e/c eyes that reminded you so  much of your own. Your anxieties melted away once you realized how he was trying his best to remain brave. Even if he was anxious, he was pushing through to be able to go to school. If he was willing to go through with it, then so were you.

“Ok, give mama a quick second to get your sister out of her seat.”

You pushed Elizabeth in her stroller as you walked onto the elementary school. Evan clung onto your dress as his big eyes took in the sights around him. He resembled a scared little rabbit as he watched the many boisterous children running around in the play area and the swarms of them everywhere.

You knew it would be hard for him to adjust to a new environment. He was going from only seeing his family to the many children and new faces at the school. Many people stopped to watch as the pretty lady and her equally pretty children walked on campus. All of them were allured by their soft looking h/c hair and dazzling e/c eyes. Noticing how people were staring at him, Evan hid his head in your dress as you walked. You let out a chuckle, used to the attention you would receive when you would go anywhere with your children. There was a reason William was possessive of you three and kept you all close to him. Even before you were married to him, he was conscious of the many people who would ogle you shamelessly and only stop when he would give them a death glare. 

Once you made it to his classroom, you had already spotted the kindergarten teacher who taught Michael when he first started kindergarten. Next to her a lady holding a clipboard was giving passing children a strained grin. Her smile seemed to tighten as she saw you three approaching. “This must be Evan Afton! How are you, little man?” Evan’s teacher grinned at him. Evan shyly smiled, mumbling a  “good, thank you.” 

The kind man looked at you, “I’ll be getting him settled in while you fill out the paperwork with Mrs. Priscilla over here.” The woman gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “Alright Evan, I’ll be leaving you here with your teacher. Remember that if you need anything, just ask him to call me and I’ll be here as soon as I can. You’ll be able to find Michael during break time.” You got done on one knee, bringing him to your chest. You leave a smooch on his cheek that makes him blush from embarrassment as other children start to get in the classroom, “remember I love you and I hope you have fun on your first day here! Ok?” He nods embarrassed, already pulling away from you. His teacher chuckles at his behavior, “alright kiddo, I have to introduce you to the class!” 

As he takes your son to his class, he looks back at you unsure. You give him a reassuring smile and a thumbs up that makes him reciprocate the gesture. 

Even if he looked to be in good hands, you can’t help but let out a wavering breath, the small part in you worrying that something bad will happen to him. Then again, you felt the same nervous feeling dropping off Michael in preschool, in kindergarten, in first grade, and in second grade. 

The nerves would probably never go away, but they would get easier with time. 

The lady next to you calls for your attention, “right this way miss.” You had forgotten she was there, you follow after her into the office.

Once you're done filling out the information for Evan you hand the information to the lady. She gives you a tight lipped smile, “thank you for filling this out. I’ll be sure to put it into the system for it to be easier to register him in for the next few years.”

She begins to type into her computer, as you walk out with Elizabeth. 

She stops for a second before she calls out again, “and please tell your father to park his car before picking up his son. It’s dangerous for Michael to be getting in his car in the middle of a busy street.” You stop in your tracks confused at her words, “my father?”

The last you’ve heard of your father was through your mother calling you and telling you of his death. She had blamed you for his demise claiming that the stress of having a whore as a daughter had shortened his life span. You had only blocked her number from contacting you again.

So it was understandable to say you were confused on how your deceased father would be able to pick up your son from school when his dead body was buried a couple of states over. 

She glanced from her computer, pulling down her glasses. “William Afton?” She said  questionly.

You almost gasped out loud from the misunderstanding. All you could do is stand there, gaping at her as she looked puzzled from your shock.

There was no way from the times you’ve called and interacted with the school that they had assumed William was your father. 

Even though there was almost a decade age difference, he was too young to even be considered your father. He didn’t even look like he could be your father! 

“I’m sorry there seems to be a misunderstanding!” You tell her, “William Afton isn’t my father, he’s my husband!”

The look of horror on her face made you feel self conscious as she quickly opened a bin of files. After shifting through them, she pulls out one file where she quickly shifts through it.  Once she pulls out a sheet of paper that you assume is the list of your phone number and William’s phone number that she gasps out. Her eyes horrified at seeing your name highlighted as the mother of Michael and Evan. She had assumed you were nothing but a sister to the little boys.

You almost bury your face in your hands from embarrassment when she gives you a pitied look, “my apologies…I assumed you were a cousin or a sister to the little boys.”

(Translation: She lets out a scream, “you’re married to that piece of shit?!” ) 

“It’s alright..” you say, gripping the stroller as Elizabeth begins to squirm, wanting to get out and stretch out her legs. 

As you leave, you can hear her whisper, "poor woman.” 

[windblume-wishes]

I feel like you all are in some need of Diasomnia family content so I shall happily deliver to you my dearest travelers~ So, here you shall have a sweet fic of Malleus and his brand new baby brother Silver.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Malleus Draconia and Silver - I Loved You At Once

Warm late spring sunlight flooded through the open windows of the cozy woodland cottage Lilia and his new newborn son now shared together illuminating the entire living space in a warm yet soft spring glow. Lilia sat in his chair peering lovingly at his now sleeping baby boy as he slept soundly, he softly sang a lullaby his old, dear friend and princess once sung to her unborn son- reminding him of how he should probably inform Malleus of the baby as soon as possible, that is unless the chatty woodland fairies already blabbed to him about the surprise.

The old fae stood up smiling into the basket where the sweet infant boy dreamed the afternoon away. He had the sweetest face Lilia had ever seen, it was hard for him to hate the child even after knowing everything. Silver’s sweet face now sported a soft smile only a newborn could make- a smile so pure and beautiful that it could practically purify anyone with even a hint of darkness.

A knock then sounded at the door and the deep, smooth voice of Malleus called out, “Lilia? Are you home? Might I come in?”

“Yes, come on in, Malleus- but do keep it down, I just got him to sleep! Shh!”

‘Ah, this must be the newborn I heard about…’ Malleus thought to himself as he opened the cottage door and let himself in. “The woodland fairies told me you took in a child, a human one…”

Those blasted woodland fairies could not keep their mouths shut for the life of them, could they?

“Malleus, this is Silver! Isn’t he adorable~?” Lilia gushed like any new parent would over their infant. “Such a sweet little thing~!”

The draconic fae peered into the basket and stared at the child with confusion and a slight hint of what one might say is disgust. This was cute? What’s next, a sock eating troll would be considered a fashion model?

“It looks like a hairless ape- it’s so ugly one can almost feel sorry for it…” Malleus smirked, earning a slight slap on the arm from Lilia. “What? I was only speaking the truth, Lilia.”

“Be nice, you may grow to love him deeply, after all, I’ll be training him to be a knight for you. Oh! Yes! I must head off to go do a bit of shopping- turns out human babies cannot survive on flower nectar alone and require a thing called powdered milk- what an odd thing…” Lilia quickly gathered his list and money pouch before walking to the door with a smirk. “You will be on babysitting duty~! If he gets fussy, rock him and sing him a lullaby~! Bye~!”

“But Lilia! If I hold something this fragile I- he’s gone…” Malleus sighed but immediately turned to see the newborn stir in his once peaceful sleep and let out his wails of distress. “Oh dear… Silver, that is your name, right? Let’s not cry now- ah- I don’t know any lullabies- wait… maybe this would…?”

Malleus carefully picked up the wailing infant and held him as gently as possible, placing a sturdy hand beneath his bottom and one on his tiny back as he began to sway softly and hum a tune he did not know the origin from. Slowly but surely Silver’s cries softened and his beautiful aurora eyes gazed sleepily up at the draconic fae. Malleus made brief eye contact with the tiny human in his arms and offered him a smile before continuing his humming, sure enough the baby drifted back off to a deep sleep.

He sighed, finally the baby was asleep again- how could one simply awaken to wail their tiny lungs out and then fall asleep as if nothing had happened? It truly confused Malleus, but nevertheless he continued to hold the baby and stare at him, taking in every little detail. Slowly he laid the baby back into his basket bed and continued to stare at him- he noticed a small white spot on Silver’s pointer finger resembling what one May consider a scar, he brushed the idea off as it was likely a birthmark. Malleus brushed a gentle finger across his pudgy cheeks, earning an adorable squeak from the baby boy as he stretched a small arm up, eventually latching his small hand onto Malleus’s finger.

Malleus froze, the human infant held his finger as tightly as he could, smiling in his sleep. Curious creatures humans were, despite his hatred towards humans he was slowly softening his feelings of such hatred as the baby held his finger- one so small not fearing a creature such as himself, a creature of the night and a fae of darkness. Surely this human would grow to fear him and even Lilia, right?

No, Malleus shook his head, he likely would not grow to fear the darkness as such creatures were the majority in the Briar Valley. Though, it was obvious from looking at the baby that he would indeed grow pure of heart and full of light, those few seconds of staring into those beautiful eyes of his were enough for Malleus to see that much.

Those eyes, those aurora eyes… Why were they so familiar to him? Malleus shook his head, it was likely just a matter of his imagination, nothing more.

“So small and yet so fearless to have reached out and have taken the hand of darkness itself… have you not an ounce of fear, Child of Man?” He asked softly, knowing full well that an answer was completely out of the question from the baby. “Silver, I suppose it’s a better time than any to bestow a gift upon you, I hereby bless you with the gift of kindness, may you always find the good in everyone in this era of peace…”

Suddenly Silver’s aurora eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Malleus giggling happily, Malleus could not help but chuckle a bit himself, tracing Silver’s face once more with his finger.

“I see you have awakened to laugh before your future king, brave of you, beasty, let’s see if you are brave enough to handle a dragon’s roar and a bit of fire, hm?”

Malleus let out a draconic growl and a small puff of green fire before the baby, trying to be as intimidating as possible but he was only met with more giggles and smiles- how strange, humans would normally fear the roar of a dragon and the sight of fire, this little one seemed to take it as a form of entertainment.

“Beastie, I do believe I hate you for this… have you not an ounce of fear? I- more giggles, really now? Not even my fangs frighten you?”

Alas there was no fear from the baby, he just continued to laugh at his prince and reach up to him happily as if he could sense that Malleus was not one to fear but to love. Malleus smirked and gently wiggled a finger across Silver’s bare baby belly causing the most adorable giggles to erupt from him.

“You might just be the first human to not fear me, beasty… for that I must applaud you, being brave enough to be so carefree before me fufufufu~”

The door to the cottage slowly opened and there was Lilia with his baby haul smirking at the sight of Malleus being so gentle and loving towards the baby he just an hour ago gave a look of disgust towards. Malleus froze- immediately composing himself and pretending that nothing happened, not daring to look Lilia in the eye as he huffed a little in embarrassment.

“What’s that, Malleus? Can’t face me because you are embarrassed to admit you find your new baby brother adorable~? Hmmm~?”

“Lilia, that is not at all what- hmph- I suppose he is not half bad as I believed… I suppose I can stay a bit longer to um, assist in caring for this Child of Man…”

Lilia only laughed as he picked up Silver, gently swaying him in his arms and placing some kisses atop his soft, fluffy hair all while his baby nuzzled closer to his warmth, cooing softly. “Did you miss me? Yes you did! You are truly the cutest little thing, turning Malleus here into a softie, good boy!”

“Lilia, that’s not-” Malleus sighed and hid a smile, “I suppose arguing is pointless.”

“Good! Now let’s get him fed and in the bath! Now where is that coffee mug for me to feed him his milk….”

“Oh dear…” Sevens above help this baby boy survive Lilia’s parenting tactics…

[milksnake-tea]

OMG COULD I FOR THE FFOR TH- SAMPO 66666666ckfkuff 0PRŌMPY

OKAY I GOT THIS! FOR THE EVENT COULD I JAVE FLUFF PROMOT 6 ACCIDENDNFLLY FALLING ASLEP ON SAMPO???? HAVE A GREAT! YOUR WRITING 🥺☺️😊

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: You accidentally falling asleep on them. ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: sampo ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: mentions of alcohol ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: IM SORRY IN ADVANCE IM STILL TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO WRITE SAMPO,,, HOPE U LIKE IT THO VI !!! also this hinges on the masked fools sampo theory so coughs

It's late at night at a bar in Epsilon, the home of the Masked Fools. The sound of laughter, the pouring of alcohol, and the songs of bards fill the air. Bright, warm lights, coupled with the darkness of night outside, create a beautiful balance.

You laugh at one of your fellow masked followers' jokes, leaning on Sampo as you sip at your preferred drink. Your lover in question is prattling on to another follower, retelling the story of Belobog and the Astral Express in a far more entertaining and dramatic fashion.

You'd love to live in this moment forever, basking in the blessings of the Elation. However, you were still only human, and the hours without sleep were beginning to get to you.

But you weren't one to ruin the joy of others on your account. A simple nap would do. Just a few minutes, and you'd be back on your feet with everyone else. Just a few... minutes...

Behind your mask, your eyelids drooped, and your head lolled onto Sampo's shoulder. Soon enough, five minutes turned to ten, and ten into twenty.

"Huh? Oh," Sampo laughed when he saw you dozing off on him, his chest rumbling with his laughter. "Would you look at that."

In one fell swoop, he swept you into his arms, and stood up from the table. He does it so easily, it's almost like second nature to him. Meanwhile, you are none the wiser, lost in your own dreamland.

"Well, it seems our night together is coming to an end, my good friends!" he declared, keeping his voice loud and joyful, but not too loud that you would awaken. He bows the best he can with you in his arms, careful not to drop you. "Let's continue this tale another time, yeah?"

He only chuckled when his friends jokingly boo him, sauntering off as they ushered him away. Using his foot to open the door, Sampo finds that the outside is much quieter than the roars of the tavern. Much more peaceful, he muses.

As he headed towards your shared inn, your head bumped against his chest, jolting you awake. You yawned in his embrace, stretching.

"Sampo..?" you said drowsily, blinking deliriously at him from behind your mask. "Where... are we?"

"We're just about headed home," he replies, grinning down at you with that cheeky smile of his. You don't know how he did it, but he'd already removed his mask. Why he didn't remove yours, you didn't care to find out.

"Mm." You hummed, curling into yourself to snuggle closer against his chest. "You didn't have to leave, you know."

"Yeah," Sampo agreed, "but how could I leave my little angel to sleep in such a loud place? Just isn't right."

You laughed, the sound warming Sampo's heart. "You're so sweet."

"Aren't I?" Sampo chuckled. "Make sure to tell the guys and girls over at Belobog that, won't you?"

"I always do." You let out another yawn, closing your eyes once again. Sampo wanted to protest, but you were already knocked out. He sighed to himself, smiling fondly as he arrived at the inn.

"You are so high maintenance sometimes, you know that?" he said to no one in particular, not really meaning what he said. "Eh, whatever. Still love you though."

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

OC Deep Dive 🦾🎀

Let's do a two for one with Astra and Mashal :)

What uncommon/common fear do they have?

Hm, that's a tough one. Astra doesn't scare easily when it comes to physical things. I'd say failure is a big fear of hers, or letting down the people she loves.

It's bugs. Ignoring all the existential stuff, Mashal is terrified of bugs. Spiders especially, but anything that crawls makes him uncomfortable. The other big one is losing his humanity.

Do they have any pet peeves?

People who talk down to her will set Astra off like a firecracker. She's had more than enough of that in her time. People who are willing ignorant also piss her off, especially if that ignorance hurts others.

As a former army brat, Mashal does get a little tetchy around messy spaces. He won't get on people about it, but he will clean up unprompted. He also can't stand bullies or anyone who hurts people for their own gain.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

A full chemistry set, lots of scrap fabric, and way too many fancy pillows.

He doesn't sleep, so he doesn't have a bedroom, but if he did, it would have a sketchbook, some candles he can stare at while meditating, and a few practice swords hung on the wall.

What do they notice first in a person?

Their clothes, I'd say. Astra can tell a lot about a person by what they wear and how they care for their garments. Also, their sense of fashion can be telling.

I think as an artist, Mashal picks up on unique features first. A crooked jaw, especially beautiful eyes, an unusual expression - anything that makes someone stand out. Consequently, he's also just good at remembering faces in general.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

A six, but she thinks it's a nine. She also carries the fantasy equivalent of those berserker mushrooms at all times, so if she's hurt, she'll do drugs about it and keep going.

He has no sense of pain as a robot, but if he's ever returned to his human form, it's gonna be a rude awakening the first time he stubs his toe on something.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (I'm also including freeze and fawn)

It kinda depends. If her friends are with her, she'll tend towards fight. If she's alone though, she often freezes up.

Fight, all the way. In moments of stress, Mashal's brain will all but shut off as he starts swinging.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

Astra's family is just her and her two moms, but she loves them dearly. Every cent she makes goes towards paying off their debtor contracts, and she writes them frequently.

Mashal doesn't remember his family. He assumes his parents are alive and he's pretty sure he has an older brother, but anything more than that is a mystery. He hopes to find them someday once he's human again.

What animal represents them best?

I'm tempted to go with a black cat solely because she's a witch, but I feel like she's more high energy than that. In that case, maybe some sort of monkey? Clever, curious, loud, and a little vicious.

A horse, I think. Some sort of retired warhorse that likes to run and nuzzle your hair, but will kick if you get too close.

What is a smell that they dislike?

Formaldehyde. It gives her headaches.

He has no sense of smell :(

Have they broken any bones?

Yup. She broke her arm at the end of book one and has broken a few fingers in the past when she wasn't careful enough with her tinkering.

He has no bones :(

(Mashal doesn't remember, but as a boy, he did fracture his skull when he fell down a flight of stairs. He also broke the same ankle twice during sparring. His squad did tease him for this.)

How would a stranger likely describe them?

"Oh gods, what an outfit she had! I don't think I've ever seen that many colors on one garment, and she must've sewn half the ribbons from here to Yewbury into the lining. The embroidery was fantastic. It was loud enough you hardly noticed the woman wearing it. She was pretty short, I think. I wanna say she was mixed Skolander and Shuari, given the dark curls and blue eyes. Her skin was kind of an amber brown, but she had these pale splotches under her eyes and mouth. Vitiligo, I think? Her makeup was also quite loud, but somehow matched the outfit. There was just a lot going on there, in general."

"Damn, I don't think I've ever seen a robot in these parts. The fucker was huge, had to be close to seven feet tall. Kinda scary looking, to be honest, with those glowing white eyes. But, I don't know, he seemed nice. His face didn't seem like it moved much, but he looked like he was smiling. He was wearing very heavy clothing with a bandana over his head. The only bronze uncovered was his face and hands. I would've thought he was sick in the head wearing such heavy clothes in this heat, except, well, I guess a robot wouldn't care about that."

Are they a night owl or an early bird?

Very much a night owl, verging on actual insomnia. Getting up before 11 is a herculean trial.

He doesn't sleep, but if he did, he'd be an early bird. Man is ready for bed at 9:30 sharp.

What is a flavour they hate and a flavour they love?

Astra hates the taste of rice. As a kid, that was basically all she had to eat in the summers and she would frequently come down with pellagra because she was so malnourished. A flavor she loves is barbecue. She's from the fantasy south, so I think this one is self-explanatory.

He has no sense of taste, but from vibes alone, he knows he definitely has a sweet tooth.

Do they have any hobbies?

Really, she's good with any type of fiber art, but Astra loves to embroider. All her clothes sport little bits of embroidery. I'm also going to say magic because she loves it even though it's her job.

Mashal enjoys art, usually with a pencil, but he branches out into paint sometimes. He also likes to read. Any genre is fine, so long as it's fiction and not too dark. I feel like he'd love anime if it existed on Illaros for some reason.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises?

She'd definitely jump, then complain about why it had to be a secret because she already knew what she wanted to do for her birthday. Even so, she would be very appreciative of the effort.

Mashal has no idea when his birthday is, so it'd be a double surprise for him if someone popped out and declared that today's the day. After making sure they're not just fucking with him, he'd get quite teary (not actually, but the vibe is there), thank them profusely, and spend the rest of the night being told to sit down and quit trying to take care of things, this is your party, damnit!

Do they like to wear jewelry?

Yes. Astra always has some earrings on and frequently wears rings and bracelets. Most of this is costume jewelry.

Gold jewelry is very important in Sulu'Okan culture, so he definitely would, he just can't afford any right now.

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Surprisingly neat. She writes in full, founding father cursive.

Surprisingly messy. He tends towards chicken scratch.

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Indignation and the desire to help.

Protectiveness and fury.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Astra could rank every fabric ever on a numbered scale, but I think her all-time favorite is satin.

He honestly has no opinion on this, so he'd probably just say satin also. My man doesn't know burlap from chiffon, give him a break.

What kind of accent do they have?

Lol, read any of her dialog and it's obvious. Astra has a strong southern accent, more similar to a Georgia drawl than some Texas twang.

Honestly, Mashal is my one character that I feel has no accent (aka same accent as me), so I guess upper south. He does speak very softly, though, and has a bit of a stutter at times. His voice also tends to go static when he yells.

I'll tag @willtheweaver @theink-stainedfolk @kaylinalexanderbooks @nczaversnick @watermeezer and anyone else who wants to play :)

[coweye]

Commitment Issues - Part 9

Pairing: Benjamin Miller x Reader Words: 5.0K Summary: When you try and take your friends with benefits relationship to the next level, Benny’s response isn’t quite what you were expecting.

Warnings: Finally there's warnings again! Slight Angst, NSFW - respect the 18+ pls, cuteness.

So, this fic has always been close to my heart. 

I wrote this two years ago about a guy I was seeing but wanted more from. (Full disclosure, he’s no Benny Miller and luckily I didn’t have his baby.) It was a way of daydreaming the way my life could’ve gone. I never could’ve imagined you guys would embrace it the way you have and it honestly warms my heart so much that there are people out here waiting for an update. I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.

A few months ago (the not-Benny) actually asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend. Spoiler alert - he’s really not boyfriend material. So, much as I suspected, it didn't work out, because men aren’t written by women in real life. I’m not surprised or sad, I’m happy I know for sure but it  feels like I’ve come full circle and I think it's time I give our girl the ending I didn’t get. 

I love you all so much and words can describe how much I appreciate your support.

➢fic masterpost

PREVIOUS PART

Life in the past 48 hours had been… surreal. 

You had confessed your feelings for your baby daddy and then found out that he reciprocated those feelings all before doing the equivalent of pushing a grape out of your nostril.

A baby.

A gorgeous baby girl. 

Gorgeous didn’t quite cover it, yet finding a word that described the transcendent beauty of the soul you’d brought forth into this world escaped you, as did a name for the said beauty. 

For the time being the angel made human was currently known as TBD or more affectionately Tee. The two of you had been trying out names but a new baby and totally requited feelings didn't automatically cancel out a life-time of bickering. 

Your problem was there wasn’t a name you’d heard that actually sounded like her and Ben, god love him, had a habit of picking names from a nursing homes register; Ethel, Millicent, Edith - I could go on.

He liked old fashioned names, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though it didn’t lend itself to easy compromise. 

So, Tee, she remained with test names thrown in sporadically with hopes that a winner would stick, ideally before her 18th Birthday.  

Whilst the name vetoing annoyed the hell out of you there wasn’t any real friction. The name discussion never became heated, if a name was vetoed you moved on to the next accepting the decision of the other person. 

It was a healthy co-parenting dream. 

Despite the pending conversation that loomed over you both, things weren’t awkward - quite simply because you didn’t have the time for it to be!

Mia (Nah) didn’t leave you much time for it. 

Whilst she was a dream for sleeping, the time afforded to you both was spent sleeping or preparing the house for her awakening. She was beautiful, but exhausting - a lot like her father.

So it only made sense that when you got your first minute of peace,  after a long nap, now in your own bed and fresh pajamas; that the innermost workings of your heart would come to the surface. 

To the backing track of Modern Family, you planned and plotted your conversation word for word. Time allowed for dramatic pauses and longing gazes were of course included. When you began planning his lines you realized enough was enough and rose from your bed. 

Sure, after looking in the mirror, you’d had better days for your self confidence - ones where you weren’t rocking an adult nappy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and if you let it run in circles anymore you were afraid your brain would just combust.

There was a huge part of you that was excited after all this was years in the making, but then that small, human part of you was screaming at you to temper your expectations. 

How often does someone get everything they want? When did your life become a fairy tale? 

You didn’t think Benny would flat out turn you down, but what if he couldn’t live up to what had been in your head. 

For the first time, in a long time, you decided to ignore your brain - self preservation be damned. 

With a turn on your heel in a matching silk pajama set and a goddamn adult nappy you proudly began your descent down the stairs. 

Nothing could’ve prepared you for when you rounded the corner. 

There on the sofa he lay, utterly shirtless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this, in fact you’d actively avoided his fights after you had ‘broken up’ for this very reason because one look at those rippling shoulders would’ve tanked any remaining resolve or feminism left in your body. 

It would also be remiss to add that your daughter lay on his chest for what you assume was skin-to-skin time. Somehow, it both melted your heart and stoked a fire within you - having a child was strange. Since when was being a good Father a kink for you? 

“Pssst.” You whispered under your breath, trying to get his attention without waking the bean. It took another two tries before he finally looked up confused and then fixed you with that beaming smile.

“Well… good mornin’, Mama.” His voice was deep from lack of use and he looked utterly exhausted yet his smile was as big as ever.

You couldn’t help your own grin at his words as you pressed your attack and kneeled at his side. For a moment your hand stroked at the valley of her spine, before your palm came to rest on his bare shoulder.

How the hell could two people so clueless make something so absolutely perfect?

After a moment or two spent lost in pure adoration you lifted your gaze to Ben. His eyes hadn’t left your face since he became aware of your presence. 

You couldn’t help it.

Now was the time for words not for actions that had made this hole you were currently buried in, and yet …

You let yourself get lost in those eyes and pressed your lips against his. 

It was soft. 

Softer than anything the two of you had ever known. 

Neither one of you pushed for more, you simply indulged in the closeness that had been hard won to come so easily. The hand not cradling your daughter to his chest, rose to hug your cheek as you parted. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been meaning to do it since the hospital, but the nap helped me put my ducks in a row, I guess.”

Benny rose into a sitting position, slowly, mindful of the sleeping infant on his chest. 

He laid her in the moses basket at the foot of the sofa and pressed the white noise machine. Mozart began playing softly, lulling her into a deeper sleep.

Finally, Benny turned back to you, his eyes serious. “I wasn’t sure if you regretted saying what you did… if it was the heat of the moment… y’know the fear.”

You contemplated for a single moment.

“I meant every word.”

The problem with you and Benn had always been that you both approached your relationship with one foot out the door, whoever cared the least won. It was the way you both protected yourself.

It was only now you were realizing the commitment issues had gone both ways, for a time at least. It was easier if you played with no skin in the game, there was nothing to lose. But now, you had everything to lose and you didn’t want to waste a single moment playing the stupid games you’d wasted so many years of your life devoted to.

“Every word?”

“Every. Single. One. Especially the ones about your lame singing.” You couldn’t help your grin that snuck out as you teased him. 

“Lame? I’m sorry it's that gruff, sexy singing that made your ass crush on me.”

“God. I wish I could take it all back, but I do Benny, I fucking adore you.”

All through your back and forth he’d been advancing. It was as if your words prompted him to pounce. His hands were planted on your cheeks, as he gave you a part of himself in an all consuming kiss. 

It was like he was trying to explain all his feelings, all the hurt and frustration and affection he’d felt in one kiss.

As his tongue brushed yours and his hands trailed the sides of your body to pull you against him, your hands found his shoulders as you attempted to pull him closer, as if that was even possible. 

The two of you had been at war for so long, so afraid to give eachother any part of yourself. The air was thick with emotion, your hormones were all over the place as tears began to leak from your eyes. 

Relief, joy, lo- you couldn’t name the emotion entirely but it was some combination. With your kisses you promised to start anew, to fix what was broken and forget all the hurt you had caused one another.  

You were going to do your best for her, for your Joy.

Unable to stop yourself, you grabbed at the waistband of his sweats, finding the warm skin of his toned stomach. That seemed to bring him back to reality as he grabbed your hands and placed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily through his nose in what you assumed was an attempt to gather his self control. 

“Angel, you’re gonna start something you can’t finish, by my reckon… for at least 6 weeks.” 

“Let me take care of you.” You breathed, dropping your kisses lower to his neck. 

 “No, baby. We’re doing this right. I’m not gonna cum in your mouth and then leave you to carry on with your day aching in both ways - at least not till you can return the favor in mine.” He kissed your forehead chastely, as if he hadn’t just promised to eat you out the second your pussy was healed. 

“Benny.” You whined.

“I don’t care Y/N. We’re doing this right, I’ve fucked this up too many times.”

“I guess 6 weeks isn’t too long… right?”

WRONG.

Four Weeks Later

The two of you had come in leaps and bounds in your communication and you were striving towards a healthy relationship.

Hell, the two of you had been on about five PG-13 dates. Sure, it was slowly killing you, the lack of physical contact below the belt, but the two of you were getting to know each other as a romantic partner instead of a best friend that occasionally rides him in his truck.

It was good, going back over the steps the two of you had missed. Your injured vagina was allowing you to take it slow, something you and Benny sorely needed the second time round.

Though, it was still Benny. So he constantly teetered on the edge of gentlemanly courtship as he caressed the meat of your thigh as the two of you sat closely in a booth; and you loved it. 

All in all, it was kinda perfect.

So it was fitting that your perfect life shattered around you on a random Saturday morning.

“Sure Jaz, I’ll meet you at 11…. Okay, see you soon.” You heard from the man currently cradling your daughter in his arms as he gave her a bottle.

God, you wished you had more faith in your shiny new relationship, that you didn’t immediately jump to anger. 

Alas, rage was an old ally and you leapt into his eagerly awaiting arms. 

Every single doubt and unfair suspicion raised to your tongue as he turned to face you. He fixed you with an easy smile, clearly none-the wiser about the eye of the storm he was currently wandering into.

“Ben... I’ve gotta’ ask. It's been weighing on me for months… but who the fuck is Jaz?”

He blanched, his eyes looking down to your daughter as if she at 4 weeks old was capable of critical thinking. It clearly wasn’t what he was expecting when it left your mouth. He looked… somewhere between embarrassed and guilty.

It was then your eye caught the bottles that hadn’t been rinsed. They were abandoned on the marble, left to sour. That all but sealed his fate.

Sure, if you weren’t actively plotting his and his secret girlfriend's demise, you may not have overreacted. But in that solitary, ugly moment, that basic lack of regard he held for you and your relationship was encapsulated by his inability to complete the singular god forsaken chore that was his. 

The guy didn’t have a chance to respond before you were at the sink filling the washing up bowl with foamy water. The aroma of sour milk as you unscrewed the bottle lids only served to stoke your fires as you all but threw the stinking bottles in the water, splashing yourself with suds as you did.

“Do I have to do everything?!” 

“Y/N…”

“Sometimes, Ben…” 

“What the fuck - can we just rewind or can you explain what exactly it is you think i’ve done?!” He is incredulous as he places your daughter in her soothing swing chair, his arms now raising in surrender. 

“You need me to explain?” You huff, stoney in disbelief at his gall. 

“For god sake Y/N… leave them, I’m gonna get to them after this one.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve learnt not to believe you when you say things and do the complete opposite…”

“Do the complete opposite?” You heard clear as day the anger building in his voice. “If you wanna say something, then fucking say it!”

“FINE! I’ll say it! “ You slammed the last bottle in the bowl and turned round, wiping your hands on a tea towel as you fixed your gaze on him. “I thought you were happy taking it slow, I thought you wanted to be with me. But no, Jaz. AGAIN..”

He let out a light laugh, one that held no humor. “Christ sakes, Y/N - Jaz is a client! - I’m a fuckin’ personal trainer!”

“SHE’S- Oh-”

“Yeah - Oh.” His arms were crossed across his chest and his eyes had hardened.

“I - I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“To go from a soldier, to a fighter, to a glorified crossfit instructor …  just a little humiliating, Y/N.” His voice was flat and dejected as he spoke. 

At that moment, you were utterly ashamed.

“Ben… I am so -”

“Yeah. You’re sorry. But that's the thing, no matter how much I apologize or tell you how I feel about you, it's never enough. Y/N why are we even bothering when you clearly still don’t trust me.”

“Ben, I-”

“No, Y/N. It's not fair. I’ve been a good Dad and to be completely honest I’ve been a pretty stellar boyfriend, and yet all I get from you is fuckin’ accusations!” 

You hadn’t seen Benny this angry outside of the of the ring in a long fucking time. Yet you weren’t afraid of him as he came to stand before you, you knew Ben.  

“I can’t do this. Not if you’re gonna hold on to every doubt you have about me and whip them out every time I do something to piss you off, I’m not perfect Y/N.”

“I’m trying… Ben it’s not-”

“No. Listen, I told you. I told you how hard this was for me.” He stood before you, his shoulders sagged in defeat as his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I fucking poured my heart out to you, baby. I only want you and if you can’t trust that, then this isn’t going to work out and we need to stop and just be parents, because I’m not gonna live my life like this - instantly guilty for whatever shit your head dreams up for me.” 

He picked up his cap from the dining room table and bent down to place a kiss on your sleeping daughter's forehead before he swiped his hair back from his face and placed the cap on top.  Your fingers were aching from the grip you had on the counter.

“Well, I'm going to have some adulterous sex with my side piece Jasmine. Then I might swing by Flanagan’s on my way home for a threesome with an old flame. Who knows might make it a goddamn foursome!” Benny strolled out, he didn’t slam a single door. Always conscientious of the baby.

Goddamn you felt like shit.

It was hard to admit that you were wrong. 

All joking aside, you weren’t used to it. You never went into battle half cocked, which meant all arguments were mentally vetted before you championed a cause. But no matter how you sliced it, this time you were unequivocally wrong.

You had come at him with such anger. God, you should’ve just calmly asked him who Jasmine was. Why did you automatically assume the worst?

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda - Didn’t do any good now.

Simply put, you had been a dick, to a man who had been nothing short of amazing to you. 

It was as you stood frozen leaning against the counter top that you began to realize you’d never fully forgiven Ben for what happened a year ago. The toll that had taken on your self worth and your confidence.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. You had promised yourself when starting this back up you’d forgive everything from the past, but you supposed that was hard when he’d never really apologized. 

That was petty, you reasoned.  

You knew he was sorry. 

The two of you had jumped straight back into dating, deciding to try and have the perfect romance without the deep connection which came from talking through the nitty gritty. All because the truth of the matter was; feelings made you both uncomfortable.

So you avoided talking about them at all costs, hell you'd been in active labour before you'd been able to bare your soul to him.

So, how could you be so surprised when it bubbled up in these ugly ways?

Deciding to resolve these difficult thoughts with Benny when or if he returned, eased the ache within yourself a tiny bit.   

Placing the baby monitor beside your sleeping daughter you decided to prepare yourself for that conversation. 

You made it through one life affirming shower and half of your skincare routine before her wails demanded your presence. 

“Mommy’s coming baby.” You spoke through the monitor using it as a walkie talkie. It was hard not to flash back to your service days as you used it. You were half way down the stairs reminiscing on the good ole days when you weren’t a complete asshole, when you heard a male voice whispering to Tee on the monitor. 

It was instinctual; you didn’t even think, you just moved, taking the stairs two at a time, stopping only to grab a weapon or, as it is more commonly known as, a broom.  

“GET AWAY FROM HER ASSHOLE.” You wielded the broom like a hockey stick ready to swing on the assailant. As you rounded the corner and were stupefied to find Benny there with your daughter, his eyes wide as you entered the room ready to assault him.

“Y/N?!”

“BENNY. OH MY CHRIST. I thought - “ In a single moment you instantly drop the broom and grab your baby from his arms, planting kisses all over her face and head. 

“Oh my god, you scared mommy, Tee. Yes you did. My heart, oh fucking christ. I didn’t expect you back.”

“What can I say - I didn't fancy the orgy today.”

“Daddy’s very funny, Sienna.”

“Sienna… Sienna Miller?” Benny narrows his eyes over the top of his Starbucks takeout cup.  

“Veto.” You both say in unison despite your argument. 

Tee whined in your arms, amping up for a wail.

“She didn’t finish her bottle before she fell asleep earlier.” Ben pointed out to the half empty bottle waiting to be washed up. Your stomach dropped at the mere sight of the cause of your hissy fit earlier.

“Are you hungry, beautiful girl?” You crooned to your baby after a pause. Adjusting the robe you had thrown on after your shower. “I’ll feed her and then we can talk?”

He nodded, his face giving nothing away. It was strange to be stonewalled by Ben. Usually every thought that crossed his mind was mirrored on his face. 

Taking a seat in the love chair you’d set up in the lounge for this exact purpose you exposed your breast. You had been doing a half breast half formula feeding pattern so that Ben could pitch in.

She latched on quickly, but never as quickly as she did the bottle. A tiny part of you was disappointed, as you’d always had images of breastfeeding your child. But with a low milk supply you’d had little option but to supplement with bottles, but beyond the bonding aspect you had no qualms with the bottle.

Tee was slowly falling asleep as she drank and after about five minutes she was gone to the world. 

Feeling guilty all while, you held her to your chest after rearranging your robe. You should be speaking to Benny about your regrettable words earlier and yet you couldn’t force your legs to move. Telling someone you had been a complete dick wasn’t a fun thing to do.

So it made sense after about ten minutes of hiding that Benny appeared with the moses basket in toe for your sleeping angel. 

You nodded thankfully and silently you handed her off to him, making sure that your entire chest was covered. 

He placed her in the far corner of the room, far enough away that your voices - if they were kept below a shout - wouldn’t wake her.

He took a seat to your right, there was about a meter between you. It was all so stiff, like a business meeting as you each waited for the other to speak. 

“So.” He muttered avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll start. I’m sorry Ben. You didn’t deserve that.” His eyes rose to meet yours. “I want this to work. I meant it, I want to leave it all behind and I thought I could - just forget everything, I mean. But I can’t. I think, well, I think we need to talk about it.”

“Y/N-”

“No, Ben, please. I’ve thought about this for like twenty minutes in the shower.” You left your seat to sit beside him. “I know you don’t like… feelings. I don’t either, it's awkward. But, I need to get through this to get over it, y’know?” 

“I think I do.” He nodded.  You took his hand in yours. 

“I’m not making excuses, I’m sorry I lost my shit this morning. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. When I heard her name, I was right back there. Pregnant and alone and just completely unsure about everything; infatuated with a guy who I didn’t think felt the same. It was terrifying … And I’ve never told you that. It messed with my head everything that happened last year.”

“Right back where?... When you heard her name?”

“At the baby shower.”

“Oh Y/N, you should've asked!”

“Why? We weren’t together.”

“I started as a PT about a month after Christmas. After I found out and the hospital - It's a hell of a lot safer and the pay’s more steady. I’m still training with Will but the fights are gonna’ be … fewer. I wanna be around.” His hand clutched in yours tightened his thumb on your fingers forcing you to look up.

“You’re such a good Dad. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t” Your hand rose to his face. 

“I am so sorry. I haven’t said it have I? But I am. That night you told me you wanted more and I shut you down, I broke your heart. I don’t want anyone else, only you. I need you to hear me.”

“I do Ben, I do.”

“No, Y/N. I want you to be my wife, I want you to have more of my babies. You’re the only one for me, I think of you when I wake up, before I go to sleep - there hasn’t been a day in the past ten years I haven’t thought about you. I will never hurt you like that again, I fucking promise you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes as your heart began to heal, it felt so full as you sat beside him basking in his words.

“I fucking dig you Benny.” You grabbed his cheeks pulling him into a kiss. It started off lighter before it began to deepen. 

Teasingly you flicked your tongue against his gaining access, biting his lip you pulled yourself onto his lap to get a better angle on your exploration of his mouth. Through his jeans you felt him begin to swell as he pressed against the linen of your robe. 

It had only been three weeks, but you were desperate for him to be inside you. Compromise was the name of the game.  

He pulled away from your mouth, which you were fine with, you knew the words about to leave his lips. Which is why you decided to be persuasive as you trailed kisses down his neck. 

“Baby, no, you’ve only just had a baby, c’mon.”

Smothering kisses against his warm skin, he smelled deliciously of the Calvin Klein aftershave he always spritzed on before leaving the house. You moved your hips against his, which prompted him to grab them. His large hands splayed across your ass, holding you still as he attempted to maintain some semblance of self control.

“You can’t go inside, but we can still have fun.” You whispered into his neck. “Besides, you’re the injured party, I have an apology to make.”

“Well…” He moaned as you playfully bit at his warm flesh “You were mean as hell, baby.”

With Benjamin's help you shrugged the linen dressing gown from your shoulders. Instantly you were completely exposed before him.  His eyes zeroed in on your swollen breasts, sure he’d seen them in passing but never so freely exposed and at eye level. 

Hands gentle as always rose to cup them. Those gorgeous fingers skirted around your nipples making your hips rut down against his hardened member. 

“Sensitive.” You explained before he placed kisses on them. He kissed along the underside of your breast before lathering his tongue around your nipples. His gaze lowered and his palms skirted along your sides before they landed on your ass. 

You couldn’t help your self consciousness, the last time this man had seen you naked you’d been a size Y/S. Now you had some fresh stretch marks and a stomach still swollen from your child. 

However, all your self consciousness went out the window the second he squeezed at the meat there and pulled you down against his jeans, his hips thrusted up in time, almost unintentionally. 

The fabric was causing some delicious friction against your clit, yet you wanted more. 

“Is this okay, you’re not in pain?” He asked resting his forehead against yours.

You kissed his lips as you held onto his jaw.

“No. I want more.”

“You can’t have more, your sweet pussy needs more time before I ruin it.” He smirked before claiming your mouth with his tongue, putting all his filthy promises behind it.

“No, but you can.” You leaned backwards and began to undo his zipper. His hands came up to stop you before he remembered your words from earlier. 

Finally, you set him free. He was bigger than you remembered, straining up against Ben’s belly. You couldn't resist as you rubbed your bare heat against him. You were sopping as his cock came away wet. 

Benny groaned, one hand squeezing the meat of your ass and the other staying firmly on your hip, just in case you tried something. You grabbed his chin, joining your mouths in a deep kiss, once more you dropped your hips, your clit bumping against the head of his cock in the most delicious way before you slid along his shaft. 

Once again he groaned, this time into your mouth which you greedily swallowed up. Playfully you bit at his lip, touching your tongue once more to his just to give him a preview of how talented it could be.  

He began to help you as he pushed his jeans further down his thighs frantically as you moved off of his lap and fell onto your knees between his legs. 

Your mouth watered as you stared at his pulsing cock, now covered in your own wetness.  You couldn’t help a smirk as his head dropped back on the couch as he tried to give you space to work. 

Slowly, playfully almost, you stroked his length and you couldn't help a small smirk as his hips thrusted into your palm.  Right where you wanted him, he was fighting a losing battle of control.

With no warning you leaned down and swiped your quick tongue along the head of his cock. If the groans had added to the flood below the belt, the broken call of your name had you practically gushing. 

Leaning forward to get a better vantage, you sneakily pressed your heel into your clit. It alleviated some of the pressure but nowhere near enough. 

All at once you took his length into your mouth, his cry was absolutely gorgeous as he grabbed at his own thigh. 

Your tongue lathered the veins that hid on the underside of his cock. It was wet and messy and he was quickly falling apart in your mouth. 

He was fighting the urge to fuck your mouth as he gripped at his thighs in solidarity, you wanted him to bruise the back of your throat with his thrusts.

You reached up and grabbed his hand, currently grabbing at his thigh and placed it into your hair. It was an open invitation, to let himself go. To stop being so polite and sorry, to go back to fucking you the way he used to.

It was an invited he RSVP’ed immediately.  His hands immediately began guiding your face up and down his cock, pushing your face down so that the head of his dick nudged the back of your throat. 

Your gag constricted around his cock which made his head roll back in pleasure.  His hand loosened its hold on your hair, almost asking permission. 

With a roll off your eyes you dropped your head harder than he had, his cock was practically in your esophagus, but it showed him you could take it. 

“Yes, baby. Fuck - you suck cock so good.”   

Unable to help it you grinded against your heel, desperate for the sweet relief of his touch, but unable to receive it.

You noticed the pressure building as his stomach began taut as he continued fucking your face. 

Taking back control, your hands found his balls and rolled them between your fingers caused him to groan as that pressure increased.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His cry was all you needed as you as you took his entire length in your mouth. You fought the urge to gag as you reminded yourself to breathe through your nose. His come spurted hotly down your throat as you swallowed every damn drop of it. 

@sixshooter665 @queenie-b- @rambling-in-purple @anaaaispunk

 @miraclesabound @kravitzwhorehore @ahsokathearcher @xoxabs88xox @heresathreebee @psychadelichues @marauderskeeper @tanzthompsonn @mermaidxatxheart

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: Chapter 1

[I originally posted a shorter recap of this chapter on Livejournal, on December 7, 2010. If you'd like to just read the original, less serious version of the recap, that's here.]

[Content note: I'll talk about this a bit later, but, heads up: this opening chapter describes an assault that’s more vivid than I remembered. That's the second half of the recap.]

I'm not actually going to rewrite all my Varney posts like this, but I'd like to talk not just about the way James Malcolm Rymer wrote the chapter, but also the way I recapped it 12+ years ago.

First off, I don't think I gave Rymer enough credit for the atmosphere of the opening; maybe I just appreciate it more after struggling through some of the filler chapters. I did give him some credit, noting that there are 900 words of gothic effectiveness before anything actually happens—I'll quote the very beginning at some length so you can get a feel for what the next 230+ chapters are like:

The solemn tones of an old cathedral clock have announced midnight -- the air is thick and heavy -- a strange, death-like stillness pervades all nature. Like the ominous calm which precedes some more than usually terrific outbreak of the elements, they seem to have paused even in their ordinary fluctuations, to gather a terrific strength for the great effort. A faint peal of thunder now comes from far off. Like a signal gun for the battle of the winds to begin, it appeared to awaken them from their lethargy, and one awful, warring hurricane swept over a whole city, producing more devastation in the four or five minutes it lasted, than would a half century of ordinary phenomena.

It was as if some giant had blown upon some toy town, and scattered many of the buildings before the hot blast of his terrific breath; for as suddenly as that blast of wind had come did it cease, and all was as still and calm as before.

Sleepers awakened, and thought that what they had heard must be the confused chimera of a dream. They trembled and turned to sleep again.

I summarized this as:

The lightning! The thunder! Ominous calm! The buildings scatter like toy houses! O THE STORMY STORMINESS OF THE STORM. And then the hail starts up, at which point I started laughing, because… hail. Sexy, sexy, stormy hail. Oh the hailiness of the hail, the stormy sexy chunks of ice hailing on your head, yea, unto a mild concussion. In conclusion: hail.

I had some interesting expectations here about gothic atmosphere, or perhaps just the vampire genre itself, necessarily being "sexy." You do see some eroticism in a vampire story like "La Morte amoreuse" (1836), but—remember how I mentioned the cottage industry built on Polidori's "The Vampyre," which ultimately results in Varney the Vampire as a sort of parody? There's no Erotic Biting in any of that. Biting of any nature happens off-page in "The Vampyre," and to my knowledge, Ruthven doesn't manage to bite anyone in spinoffs like The Bride of the Isles. At the time Varney was first published (1845-1847), I don't know if people were expecting scenes like—well, what's about to happen next.

Enter Flora:

And now we meet Our Heroine, Flora Bannerworth, an aptly-named maiden who is "young and beautiful as a spring morning," bare shoulder, sculpted ivory bosom, teeth of pearl, moaning in her sleep, a flood of loosed tresses, so on and so forth. Wind, rain, sexy hail, 600 words, FLASH OF LIGHTNING! SHRIEK!

Okay, I clearly expected the heroine to be eroticized, and I was at least right about that:

The bed in that old chamber is occupied. A creature formed in all fashions of loveliness lies in a half sleep upon that ancient couch -- a girl young and beautiful as a spring morning. Her long hair has escaped from its confinement and streams over the blackened coverings of the bedstead; she has been restless in her sleep, for the clothing of the bed is in much confusion. One arm is over her head, the other hangs nearly off the side of the bed near to which she lies. A neck and bosom that would have formed a study for the rarest sculptor that ever Providence gave genius to, were half disclosed. [...]

Oh, what a world of witchery was in that mouth, slightly parted, and exhibiting within the pearly teeth that glistened even in the faint light that came from that bay window. How sweetly the long silken eyelashes lay upon the cheek. Now she moves, and one shoulder is entirely visible -- whiter, fairer than the spotless clothing of the bed on which she lies, is the smooth skin of that fair creature, just budding into womanhood, and in that transition state which presents to us all the charms of the girl -- almost of the child, with the more matured beauty and gentleness of advancing years.

Y'all.

I had read a lot of Victorian literature by 2010—took graduate classes, even—and was too jaded to be as fazed by this quasi-Lolita mess as I maybe should have been. I remember reading this and thinking, "Yeah, that's standard. Goes on a bit, though."

Having established Flora Bannerworth, Victorian Lolita (she's the only person with any sense for several chapters, don't hold it against her), the story starts to ramp up. Flora sees "a figure tall and gaunt, endeavouring from the outside to unclasp the window" in the next flash of lightning. She's not sure what she really saw; it turns out that the literary point of the hail is that she can't tell if the sound she's hearing is ice raining down on her gothic mansion or vampire fingernails trying to claw the window open. And like, who thinks "Obviously, a vampire is trying to get in"? She saw it so clearly, and yet, storm, darkness, hail, she could just as easily explain it away—how did Ann Radcliffe differentiate terror from horror? Basically, terror is the dreadful lead-up and horror is the shocking revelation? So we switch here from the horror of OH SHIT VAMPIRE AT THE WINDOW back to the dread of waiting to find out what it really was.

Around this point in the original post, I pointed out that there are four elements you might see in a vampire story: the Appearance of the Vampire; the Attack of the Vampire; the Victim's Consumptive Suffering; and the eventual Destruction of the Vampire. You see these pretty reliably in Dracula, for example; you see them subverted in Interview with the Vampire, where the vampire is eventually destroyed by fellow vampires, but then it turns out he wasn't, and he goes on to be vampire king and see Jesus and mess around with the Devil and Atlantis is involved, idk I didn't keep up with those books after the one with the body-thieving. In this particular chapter of Varney, we get the first two elements, and they are honestly very effective: "Frozen with horror!" I said. "Heart beating wildly! The strange reddish light from a burning mill in the distance! The vampyre's nails clattering against the glass as it seeks to open the latch! She tries to scream but cannot to move, but cannot! Her cries for help are but hoarse whispers that no one can hear!" And then:

(I want you to remember Lord Ruthven's "dead grey eyes" here:)

The figure turns half round, and the light falls upon its face. It is perfectly white perfectly bloodless. The eyes look like polished tin; the lips are drawn back, and the principal feature next to those dreadful eyes is the teeth the fearful looking teeth projecting like those of some wild animal, hideously, glaringly white, and fang-like.

(Sidebar: This is apparently the first appearance of the word "fang" in vampire literature.)

It approaches the bed with a strange, gliding movement. It clashes together the long nails that literally appear to hang from the finger ends. No sound comes from its lips. [...] The glance of a serpent could not have produced a greater effect upon her than did the fixed gaze of those awful, metallic-looking eyes that were bent down on her face. Crouching down so that the gigantic height was lost, and the horrible, protruding white face was the most prominent object, came on the figure. What was it? what did it want there? what made it look so hideous so unlike an inhabitant of the earth, and yet be on it?

Here I am, making a very good point while being gleefully insensitive:

Panting, repulsion, heaving bosoms, etc. And then begins the slow agony of Flora oozing across the bed in her attempt to escape. Hair streaming (slowly) across the pillows, covers dragging (slowly) behind her, until she gets one foot (slowly) onto the floor. This is one of the few times the paid-per-word aspect works in Varney's favor—it has the endless creep of a nightmare, so let's take a moment to bask in a brief ray of quality. Undaunted by effective writing, the vampyre reaches her and drags her by the hair back onto the bed; "Heaven granted her then power" to scream her head off. And thus follows the most awesome sentence I have yet seen in gothic literature:

With a plunge he seizes her neck in his fang-like teeth a gush of blood, and a hideous sucking noise follows. The girl has swooned, and the vampyre is at his hideous repast!

My Hideous Repast is totally the name of my new goth band.

And that was the end of my commentary on the chapter.

I'm torn here because I do think the writing in general is entertainingly overblown, and I do think "my hideous repast" is funny in the abstract. But what I don't understand—not to bring the room down, but I feel like it should be pointed out: when I started recapping Varney the Vampire back in 2010, I completely missed the fact that this opening scene is describing a sexual(ized) assault. Some readers might be really, really uncomfortable with this scene. Why did I not see this?

I came here to have fun and that would not have been fun?

I was approaching the serial from the assumption that it's silly and melodramatic, so anything that happened also would be?

This cover illustration did not exactly set me up to take it seriously?

I was so used to the ravishment fantasies of gothic/vampire media that it didn't strike me as something unpleasant or unusual to read?

It was 2010 and we didn't necessarily question problematic angles as thoroughly as we do now, even though I was already critiquing Twilight in 2008 so that's kind of a bullshit excuse?

I still think the melodramatic writing is pretty funny in places and I'm not sure how I feel about myself for that?

I think at least some of my reaction actually does come from writing about Twilight from 2008 onwards. It was a vampire story that had a marked lack of Erotic Biting scenes, to the point where director Catherine Hardwicke had to add one to the movie: Bella's fainting-couch fantasy of Edward as a classically gothic vampire, which apparently involves shoe-polish hair.

The mood 15 years ago (!) was, some people loved a twinkling repressed sparklepire insisting he mustn't touch his high-school ladylove, he mustn't! but he must!!, and other people were big mad about it. Reading Varney, it felt refreshing to go back to a "traditional" story and say, see, there is bloodshed and it's not sparklewashed and tame, that is what real vampiring looks like. And somewhere along the way, I think I lost sight of the fact that Twilight, for all its many faults, at least involves someone who enthusiastically consents to being bitten. Like, Bella as would-be victim consents when Edward doesn't; the big tension of the series is that Bella is always throwing herself at a hungry vampire who keeps running away from her.

Hey, you might say, in the midst of a cultural moment when everyone’s going wild over the bizarrely chaste story of a teenage girl and her guilt-ridden goody-two-shoes vampire boyfriend,

remember when vampires were actually scary and forced themselves on their victims?

wait what do you mean that's not great

By “not great,” I don’t mean that vampire villains are Problematic™ and should be banned from fiction. I'm saying, that's the point, that it's villainous to force a vampire bite on someone; that's what the horror of the situation is about. That said, one of the unique holds that vampires have on audiences is the moment when “force” becomes ambiguous—ambiguous for the characters, but when we consent, as readers and viewers, to seek out that ambiguity. Like, I’m here for vampires because of that, the psychodrama is the whole point for me; it’s not because I like watching people get chewed on. That ambiguity holds an audience-proxy tension between “I don’t want this” and “but I do want this.”

Case in point, Dracula attacking Mina in the original text: Mina is horrified to find that she’s compelled to submit despite herself (“strangely enough, I did not want to hinder him”), although that scene is heavily weighted towards “I don’t want this”—towards horror. A story like “Carmilla” has Laura feeling confused, conflicted, unsure of what’s even been happening behind the veil of her dreams: Do I want this? What am I even wanting? “Whatever it might be, my soul acquiesced in it”: more of a balance between want and not-want. Whereas Bella immediately wants to be bitten, end of, and spends three books chasing a vampire who is agog at how little she cares for her own life. It's... some kind of tension, for sure.

Thousands of words have been written about how this tension is tied to societal sexual repression, of course. And as the decades went on, as sexual mores loosened throughout the twentieth century and beyond, writers and filmmakers started saying, “Oh, the vampire’s bite is enjoyable and it doesn’t turn you immediately into a vampire, have fun.” (The U.S. seems to be moving politically back towards repression, which makes me wonder how vampire media might change soon.) And this is why Twilight feels like a metaphor for literal chastity: there are immediate consequences for being so much as nicked by a fang, and so all the eroticism is dialed down to teenage makeouts.

And so, in 2010, I was so busy enjoying the literary contrast between Twilight and a book where vampires actually bite people that I lost sight of the fact that what happens to Flora is a particularly cruel and vivid assault. I mean, getting dragged by her hair, Jesus Christ, why was I not more disturbed by that?

What this then makes me ask, though, is how did readers in 1847 take this?

Who was this written for?

Readers who would identify most with Varney—attacking Flora, which is awful, but the action as written is extremely callous?

Readers who would identify most with Flora—being attacked, which suggests a "horror is a safe roller coaster" framing?

Readers who wouldn't really identify with either of them, but instead might picture it as a stage play?

Given that Polidori's Lord Ruthven set off a "vampire craze" onstage, I lean towards the third option. It takes a certain bystander detachment to read this scene and not think of its reality—to empathize—at all. And my "lmao this is so silly" is, in fact, a form of detachment. But all three of those options are possible, all at once.

So: is this opening chapter intended to be funny? (Subsequent chapters are far more intentionally humorous, and I had doubled back to recap this after reading ahead.) Are we meant to laugh, or is the outdated style only unintentionally funny now?

Is it satirizing earlier vampire literature/theater on purpose?

Is humor a way of making it easier to read a scene like this?

Is it not a good thing, really to make a scene of assault "easier to read"?

Did I, a reader who would identify with Flora, need it to be easier to read?

Is it okay to have multiple, conflicting reactions to something?

The only answer I have is "Yes," to that last question. And the only thing I know to do with conflicting feelings about media is to accept them and say, as a data point: here they are. There’s a level to this first chapter that I completely did not grasp 12-13 years ago, when I was 30+ entire years old, and I'm still not sure why that is.

I do think Varney the Vampire is frequently pretty funny; weirdly, the subsequent chapters read like a parody of Dracula if everyone in Dracula except one (1) heroine was completely useless, 50 years before that book was even written. Flora might be the victim in this chapter, but she is not the butt of the jokes. But I guess what we need to think about is—if this book is meant to be parody, why is it funny, who is it making fun of at any given point, and what purpose does that serve?

At this point, the antiquated style is what’s funny to me, and I’m making fun of Rymer. Did Rymer intend his readers to find the opening chapter funny? Maybe not: I think he intended it, certainly, to be titillating, even exploitative—and I was aware of that, but maybe not enough.

We'll resume with Varney trying to get over a garden wall. It will be a shorter, lighter post.

[emileighruth]

Sleeping Beauty: the Reawaken of Fashion.

Arriving promptly at 10 am, just as the Metropolitan Museum of Art opens its doors, anticipation fills the air. Fello fashion students eagerly await the chance to see some of the most delicate garments in history. Walking to the museum's second floor, the line continues to grow, filled with fellow fashion lovers, all excited for the experience that lies ahead. Before this visit, my knowledge of the museum and its annual fashion collections was limited, mainly springing from my inspiration for Alexander McQueen and his iconic "Savage Beauty" collection at the Met. I knew that "Sleep Beauty" housed some of his most distinguished and delicate pieces, which only fueled my excitement even more.

As I entered the collection, I was immediately greeted by one of the oldest garments I had ever seen, lying peacefully in a glass case. Moving through the exhibit, I couldn't shake the feeling that a princely garment might appear to awaken these sleeping beauties. Yet, they were only brought to life by the visual displays surrounding some of them. The thought of these retired, delicate dresses, perfectly preserved yet destined to sleep forever once the collection closes, filled me with sadness. So many garments lie in the spotlight for such a brief moment, never to relive their days of glory again.

As I left the museum, my mind buzzed with inspiration and questions. How could I contribute to this fashion world one day? What will become of these dormant garments over time? Will we ever get to enjoy these garments again? Many of these questions will find answers in time. For now, these exquisite garments will remain asleep, waiting to be reborn by future designers or transformed into virtual creations for the world to see.

-ER xxx

[vulpes-fennec]

@elainweekofficial - Day 6

I would like to see Elain traveling somewhere in her story! So here's a moodboard of her traveling to the continent (read below the cut for a short snippet)

Tomorrow I leave for the Continent. I am pretty nervous, mostly because I’ll be making the journey with Lucien Vanserra, Jurian, and Vassa. I barely know Jurian and Vassa. And let’s not get started on my “relationship” with Lucien.

It’s springtime, which means the tulip fields will be in full bloom. The prospect of facing Koschei, however, taints my excitement for travel. The death lord awakens, and we hope to free Vassa before he calls her back for good. I’m keeping a travel journal…for fun. But if we die, I suppose this will be a record of our last days for Feyre and Nesta to read.

Everybody keeps clamoring me for any visions pertaining to the mission, and all I have to offer are nonsensical flashes and snippets. I don’t think we will die…but what if that is just my wishful thinking interfering with my intuition?

***

We are traveling the old fashioned way, by ship. The sea breeze is salty and strong, and I could stare at the mesmerizing little waves forever. I also saw my first pod of dolphins today, and they are so intelligent and beautiful!

Vassa and I have become fast friends, surprisingly. I suppose having Jurian to tease makes bonding easier. Jurian is a little weird, but if the Inner Circle trusts him to take care of me (after all that happened with the Cauldron, really?) then I hope he will be alright. I sense some strange tension between him and Vassa…

So far barely any interactions with Lucien. The only close contact we’ve had was when he put a glamour on me. Oh, I forgot to mention we are traveling incognito as humans! 

***

Horses! My horse is called Freyda, and she is the sweetest horse I’ve ever met. With all the winnowing that happens in Prythian and walking in Velaris, I’ve forgotten just how much I’ve enjoyed riding horseback. 

The countryside is particularly beautiful, too. We are technically traveling along the coast, as far from Koschei’s reach as possible. The seaside cliffs are a stunning verdant green, the sky a warm blue. So far I have identified four new flower species that we don’t get in Velaris. 

We are also CAMPING. I was excited at first, but then discovered how uncomfortable sleeping on the ground can be. I don’t want to request an extra cushion—what if the others think me spoiled and soft? 

Did I mention that Jurian and Vassa are definitely together? I found that out in the worst way possible by stumbling upon them having sex in the woods (a “quickie” as Nesta likes to say). I was so embarrassed! Thank Cauldron I did not see anything incriminating. Lucien says that someone can now understand how he feels. Apparently, Jurian and Vassa were not very discreet in the Band of Exiles’ Manor. 

I’m trying to remain a cordial distance from my mate (bleh). Greeting him in the morning, assisting with camp duties, answering his questions, but nothing more. 

***

Why did no one tell me that Lucien could catch fish with his bare hands?!? We camped near a small stream yesterday and were hungering for more than just dry rations. So he caught a rainbow trout for each of us…and I’ll admit he looked a bit dashing with his pants rolled off, shirt off (why did no one tell me that Lucien had MUSCLES), and long hair tied up.

I hope he does not find this travel journal…

[darkfictionjude]

Jude had the Met Gala yesterday, the theme of the party was Sleeping Beauties: Awakening Fashion!!!!

Going to the question, Mc and the Ros would like to go to this event, what style of look would they most like to wear, something extravagant, discreet??

I know I saw some looks! Although I could start a rant on the met gala that would make this blog political which I don’t think the nonnies would appreciate

Imre: he’s going extravagantly elegant. He doesn’t want to show up as all men do in a boring tuxedo. It’s not too in your face though it’s quiet opulence like this

Nia: would go all out. She wants all eyes on her. She rigorously follows the theme and wants the outfit to be remembered for years to come. Like this:

Lorcan: he doesn’t get the theme. He doesn’t like dressing up. He throws on whatever thing and adds a random something on to look like he tried. Like this:

[marietheran]

LotR reread - book 2, chapter 1 - Many Meetings

That awakening scene and Gandalf's grumbling are iconic.

"You have talked long in your sleep, Frodo, and it has not been hard for me to read your mind and memory" - more potential mind-reading. Yes, Frodo was talking, but the phrasing implies more than that.

Honestly Frodo is rather unperturbed for someone who keeps getting told "oh, and by the way, I read your mind"

Frodo's disbelief that Gandalf could ever be held captive :))

Frodo having thought all the "Big People" stupid before meeting Aragorn. He doesn't seem to have considered Gandalf as one of them, though.

"Fortune or fate have helped you" - something for the Mysterious Allusions Counter?? Let's leave it at 3.5.

That the Shire could withstand Sauron until all else might be conquered, almost as much as Rivendell, according to Gandalf!

"To what he will come in the end not even Elrond can foretell." - Proof that Elrond has foresight? Or just referring to his knowledge of healing?

"He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can" - beautiful phrasing; what does it mean?

Some of the elves are "as merry as children"! -> me @ Peter Jackson

"We are sitting in a fortress. Outside it is getting dark." "Gandalf has been saying many cheerful things like that."

"On his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was strength"

Elrond is "ageless, neither old nor young"... "venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters [Elros! 🥲💔], and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength." Hmm, half-elven heritage seems to show.

His hair "dark as the shadows of twilight" - compare: Lúthien ("dark as shadow was her hair"); Arwen being both a carbon copy of her illustrious foremother and like her father in female form.

"Mighty among both Elves and Men"

Arwen also has this "young and not" quality. Both she and her father are said to have the light of stars in their eyes.

Hmmm... Grey rainment with no ornament save a silver girdle + headdress. Not Noldorin fashion, I believe.

Bilbo definitely knows about Arwen and seems to tease Aragorn. Not sure if it counts as an allusion, being semi-overt... counter at 1.5

When I was 13 I decided to learn the Eärendil poem by heart and got halfway through - later I learned the rest of it through music settings.

Hmm... I doubt Bilbo should be taken as an expert on Eärendil's journey, but it does seem the Mariner almost crashed himself on the Helcaraxë (From gnashing of the Narrow Ice) where shadow lies on frozen hills.../He turned in haste, and roving still, etc.). And then there's the mysterious "Night of Naught"; I'm not sure if it was mentioned in the Silm.

O'er leagues unlit and foundered shores/ that drowned before the Days began *:･ﾟ✧*

He came into the timeless halls/ where shining fall the countless years ✧*:･ ...Brings to mind elements of Galadriel's song later on...

The Silmaril as lantern light/ and banner bright with living flame/ to gleam thereon by Elbereth/ herself was set, who thither came (!!)

And over Middle-earth he passed/ and heard at last the weeping sore/ of women and of elven-maids/ in Elder Days, in years of yore... haunting...

But, yes, Bilbo dies have cheek in reciting that in the house of Elrond

Aragorn very overtly talking to Arwen, cleaned-up and all. The scene is specifically drawn attention to; I hesitate to add this to my AragornxArwen allusion counter because it's not even an allusion! Mmm... 1.75

"I'll take a walk, I think, and look at the stars of Elbereth in the garden" -- oh, Bilbo, you're getting very Elvish