#His daughter drowned in a bathtub

[hollowaluminumvessel]

oh arthur you stupid son of a bitch. Why would you go INSIDE THE THE CITY MAN. ....... WHERE THE GUY ACTIVELY SEARCHING TO KILL YOU IS ......... ourgh bro please i know you love your daughter but you just escaped prison dude dont do this now

[stained-glass-cicada]

Yeah lmao though tbh overfill drains existed at the time so like even if Arthur had just had a different bathtub

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 7)

cregan x reader

A/N: yay more lord husband! (does a little dance) we're getting closer to the wedding and i can promise more trauma :)

series masterlist

word count: 1,182 words

You don’t find joy in Winterfell. You find a small sense of peace in its beauty but you are far too stubborn to be happy in the castle. There have been attempts at friendship. Sara Snow had likely been encouraged by her brother for her to try as many times as she did. You do like her but you also do not want to give anyone the idea that you may be settling in. This isn’t where you belong and everyone knows it. The servants talk just like the noblewomen that have begun to arrive for the wedding. They seem to enjoy the irony of your position, the fire princess whose heart is cold like ice. Perhaps the North was where you were meant to be after all. That is, if your life was a poem in a book. The servants also like to say that the fire in your hearth is always blazing so you can burn out your demons when you aren’t drowning your sorrows in the bathtub. The rumours always swirl around you. Perception is a fickle thing but you can’t bring yourself to care all too much, not when you know that talking about you is the most amusement they’ve had in all of their dull lives. Just a chance to look at your dragon would forge a story they would pass down for generations. You ride a dragon and all it takes for them is a glance.

Your family arrives today for the festivities. How kind it is of your mother to entrust her throne to your grandfather so she may attend her only daughter’s wedding. What a joyous occasion it is. You hear the murmurs as you stand next to Cregan in the welcoming party. You look tense and he notices it. You feel a large hand incase yours; you glare at him.

“It would be rude to let go.” He says softly as he looks ahead. You pull your hand from his grasp anyhow and he just huffs.

The carriages roll up. Your mother and Daemon step out first, a pleasing smile gracing the Queen’s face. It’s strange how proprietary causes you not to greet each other until the whole family is present. You just kind of look at one another awkwardly until your siblings walk up as well. Though, you find that little Aegon doesn’t seem to care much for proprietary. As soon as your little brother lays eyes on you, he’s running right over. He calls out your name before launching himself into your arms and you hold him close.

“I missed you so much! Joffrey has been such a bother since you’ve left.”

You laugh. “Oh, has he now?” It seems that the formal greetings have been forgotten as Joffrey comes over as well.

“I have not been a bother.” He defends and he lets you pull him in for a side hug. You didn’t know you could still smile like this.

Cregan knows he shouldn’t be surprised by the affection. It is common knowledge that your family was happy even in the isolation of Dragonstone, but to see you act so tender, it shocks him. He’s never seen you behave in a way other than cold and yet, your little brother is in your arms and looking at you like you’re about to give him the world on a platter. It makes his heart soften.

~~~

After settling in, Rhaenyra visits your new chambers with Baela, Rhaena and a servant in tow.

“Your rooms appear to be comfortable.” Your mother comments.

“They are.” You say in response. Conversation used to flow freely between the two of you but now small talk is all you can seem to accomplish.

“Your dress is finally ready. We were almost worried that the seamstress’ wouldn’t complete it in time.” Rhaena says, gesturing to the servant to bring over the gown.

“It will definitely live up to your vision.” Baela comments. 

You wanted something different, something new. You admire your mother’s style greatly but you wanted to have your own in your new home. That’s why the skirts of your dress are fuller and the sleeves more puffed. You will wear black and red to show where you came from but the style of the gown shows how you’re your own person. The gown still holds much of the King’s Landing structure so you can make the change in style gradual and it holds hints of how northern women dress so it’s more likely for them to copy you, even if there’s no reason for them to not copy the Lady of Winterfell. Well, you perhaps shouldn’t say that. There is still one reason. You are not one of their own and bringing in elements of how they decorate themselves will never change that.

“It’s perfect.” You say in a pleased tone.

“It’s more than perfect.” Baela cuts in. “I’ll be getting married to Jace soon. How am I ever supposed to top that?”

“You simply will not.” You say in a cheeky tone and she slaps your arm.

“The both of you will be more than beautiful on your wedding days, just in very different ways because you are very different.” Rhaenyra muses before she grabs your hand. “How are you?” She asks you and you know how much your mother cares about the answer.

“Cold.” You say. You aren’t quite sure what she wanted to hear.

“Well the warm months will come soon. Have you settled in nicely?”

What do you even say to that? Does she want the truth or the assurance that she hasn’t done something to ruin your life?

“I’m not too sure of that answer yet. It truly doesn’t feel like I have been here for long.” Perhaps you will ruin her day tomorrow instead.

“Things will likely fall into place after the wedding. Once you take up your new status, you will see how these things are for the best, my sweet girl.” Her words don’t feel like assurance as much as a command. Calling you her sweet girl barely softens it.

“Of course.” You confirm but don’t hide a single emotion. The irritation you feel is clear on your features.

Not wishing for an argument to come forth, Rhaena speaks up. “Winterfell is so beautiful and i’m quite antsy from the travel if you would be so kind as to give me a tour, sister?”

“Oh yes!” Baela chirps in. “You ought to take us to the gardens. I want to see if Weirwood trees truly have the faces of the old gods trapped in them.”

“Is trapped the right word?” Rhaena asks as you all stand.

“Will you accompany us, my Queen?” You ask Rhaenyra formally.

“I’m very tired. I think I will rest in my chambers.” 

You just think that talking to you pains her more than she wants to put up with. You try not to care as you take each of your sister’s arms but you won’t play nice to fix a relationship she ruined. You miss your mother but your stubbornness won’t allow it.

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lmk if i forgot u

[satubby]

•Daddy's girl Second part•

[See your face smile once again]

Here is the part before this (Maybe it doesn't even make sense but god, it was 2020, we still barely knew about Kenjaku)

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

He hears through the gloom, the crunch of bones and the sound of the city… or maybe it was his hallucination?

Satoru feels like he is in a deep ocean, drowning... Darkness surrounds him, like deep waters that drag him out of his consciousness or perhaps drown him, he no longer knows anything and he doesn't want to keep thinking about it.

Death, the feeling of loneliness that has always accompanied him... even after Suguru Geto left him alone, you had never left him, you were his daughter and yet he ignored you until it was too late to realize. The only thing that made him feel happy, the only human that saw him as Satoru and not the strong cursed sorcerer that was the imbalance in this world of witchcraft. YOU WERE his daughter... but you couldn't be with him anymore, because you were dead and before that your relationship with him was distant.

He remembers that by the time he realized how much you had distanced yourself from him, his feelings no longer mattered to you, just as he once never cared about yours... By then you were an abandoned and alone girl, surrounded by death and a father who left her to not face his fears and blinded by the pain of losing a friendship.

So although he will try his best to repair it, you no longer wanted to know anything about him even when you lived in the same house, you didn't even give him a look or a word. Maybe that's why he tried to be a better father than when he was young and stupid.

You could call it a good thing, it's kind of cute, right? But for someone broken like you, their love was false and although Satoru could see that you really wanted to accept it, in the end the pride of both of you and your injuries prevented you from getting closer. He regrets having left you alone, when you barely knew about the world, and he left you in the hands of others, fearing that when you saw him you would ask for Suguru. That you complained to him for killing his own friend who was like your uncle.

It was stupid if he's honest, looking at current things...he shouldn't have pushed you away believing you'd be better off if he didn't confront you and instead showered you with material things. Satoru did not know how to really love and now that he was lying on the ground, smiling and trusting his students... He realizes again that despite the pride of both of them, you continued to love him as your father, moments before your death how you smiled at him by hugging him and dragging yourself towards him in your last minutes alive.

It may sound selfish on his part, but he really wishes he had said 'I love you' to you even though you were mad at him for leaving you alone, for yelling at you in his teenage and young adult days, at you, his precious little sunshine.

For once he wants to be selfish, he really does, just this once... Damn!! His heart has begun to stop beating, his half is split in two, he laughs coughing up black blood... This fight may be a loss but he smiles knowing that maybe it's karma for leaving you to your fate, saving so many lives but at the expense of yours and his, which if you think about it, wasn't worth it that much.

At this thought, something new crossed his mind: Your beautiful face had not left his memories. Your expression before being hugged by him... His beautiful baby, moments before he died.

He remembers every detail of you and when you played in the bathtub with the rubber ducks, you and Suguru smiling at him, but now those are just memories, of when you both lived and how Shoko used to hit him for heating the powdered milk too much. He misses his friends, you more than anyone...

Satoru wonders, would it have been different if he hadn't left you alone and stayed by your side? He regrets having pushed you away, that you should have made your decisions in the face of his emotional abandonment and all because he was still mourning Geto, forgetting about your existence, longing and lonely like him.

"Tired" was his only answer to that simple question. That's the obvious. Look at his current state... Time, time, Sukuna looks at him, whispers words that he honestly no longer cared about and didn't listen to... his time in this place is over.

"I'm sorry my dear students... I'm sorry my mochi" And although he became a wandering being of revenge until he ran into Sukuna in Megumi's body after having killed the elders, he finally found the peace he was looking for so much. Only the king of curses can kill him now that he himself has become the thing he most swears to purge.

Then Satoru stops breathing, being 'exorcised' and so he lets himself sink into the sea of blissful death.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

The abyss became deeper, his soul fell slowly, Satoru stopped feeling little by little and the only thing he thought while he felt currents of darkness passing through him... was that lullaby.

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

The letters came and went, in the distance as if the water swallowed them, the former special sorcerer felt numb floating in nothingness, only the light of something peeking in the mist of the dark sea

The other night, dear, as I laid sleepingI dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistakenSo I hung my head and cried

Then he understood that that voice is his, Satoru smiles inwardly, that lullaby which he sang to you when you were distressed, to apologize for leaving you alone on dark nights.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

And before the last syllable of the song, he felt hands grab his face, giving him a hug, Satoru cried in silence when he saw you there, his little sun and his beloved mochi—His abandoned baby...

"Come back, dad... Do it right this time, I'll forgive you for everything!" Your voice sounded in his mind as your soul enveloped him and you walked away, letting him fall into the abyss. And like a shock of reality, Satoru opened his eyes standing in front of the bathroom, on the other side you could hear tears and sobs, it was you, well you seemed younger.

He was surprised to see himself alive and— Younger, he looked like he was in his 20's and that meant that you were 4 years old. He was happy, but then memories ran through his mind, hitting him with headaches.

Moments before you had come home from school with your babysitter, you had shown him a drawing you made for him but he ignored you, saying he was busy and you complained to him crying because he also forgot your dance recital... Which leads to why you are locked in the bathroom.

Trembling, he approaches the lock opening the door, you were curled up with swollen eyes full of tears, uncomfortable, the albino approached you, crouching down and being clumsy when hugging you.

"Shh! Ota-chan is sorry for yelling at you earlier my little one, I was stressed and I shouldn't have said those things to you, will you forgive your fool Ota-chan?" Your eyes looked at him and despite your tears, you hugged him, of course you were still that lonely and vulnerable girl who begged for his attention.

"...Ota-chan is a fool, you left (Y/N) alone at the recital, it hurt a lot" You complained looking at him with a pout, Satoru hugged you getting up with you and kissing your cheek, this time you would have ALL of his attention.

"Ota-chan I'm sorry my baby, I promise that even if I'm busy, I'll come see you and we can go for a walk... What do you want me to do to make it up to you hmm?"

His voice softens as he speaks to you, he no longer dares to be harsh with you, after everything that will happen in the future, at least if he can't stop it, he will protect you.

"Are you seriously going to make it up to (Y/N)? W-well if you don't mind, (Y/n) wants to go to the park" You didn't even turn to look at him which he understood, after years of ignoring you and emotionally abusing you in cold ways, he understood your fear.

"Then it will be Tokyo Disneyland! But for that we must bathe you, and we will clean that beautiful face, it seems that you have a duck's mouth for eyes hahaha" Satoru mocked, playing with you and pulling on your baby cheeks.

"Ota-chan, don't make fun of (Y/N)'s beautiful eyes! You were guilty!" You sulked, grabbing his hair and pulling it, then you laughed when you saw his pained faces, but he didn't even say anything to you, you're still a girl, he must be a better dad for you.

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

For the next few days he pampered and loved you, when before he would forget to go to your school projects with Nanami or Shoko going in his place, now he never missed even if he had to threaten the higher ups letting them know that their old asses were still alive because that's how he wanted it, if he killed them like he did before, it would bring a lot of chaos and the truth is he doesn't want to do so much paperwork and much less stay away from you.

He also made sure to spend hours playing with you, showering you or having bubble battles and even inviting Megumi over (well technically Megumi lived with you even though she spent time studying) He also bought you a polaroid camera, it seemed like you loved taking photos.

Little by little Satoru saw his relationship with you blossom and you opened up little by little, coming to love him as he loves you. He thought they would be happy until— What was supposed to happen happened, Yuta and all the events that came after he came under his tutelage.

Due to the many problems that his old friend caused him, Satoru did not want to see the scene where he had to kill him again, he did not want to and he even stood watching it. Geto smiled at him, saying that he sure looked pathetic, that he understood the path he took but that Satoru shouldn't feel guilty.

That night he came home reliving his memories and emotions, even though it has already happened twice he can't get over it, but unlike the past (future?) you were there hugging him, you were a very smart girl and you didn't ask anything, just hugging him.

"It hurts a lot right, Ota-chan? (Y/N) won't ask questions, she's there for you" Satoru smiled and cried, only you could comfort him, he clung to you and whispered a lot of 'I love you my baby', not this time he hid his pain under happiness and you simply decided to play to take care of him, but that simple game distracted him from his pain.

"Tonight, you will be a patient and (Y/N) the doctor!!" You laughed as you spent the entire night playing with him until you fell asleep. When he took you to the bed, he smiled softly, kissing your forehead and letting you sleep, little did you both know that your pure love would turn crazy and passionate.

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

It was your 8th birthday, Satoru had made sure to give you the best party and although you had video calls with your acquaintances and his to congratulate you, something very deep inside him that had been brewing since he went back in time and killed his friend again, somewhat selfish and paranoid. Maybe that's why you didn't have many friends, only Megumi and those from the jujutsu technical school, maybe he was VERY selfish by monopolizing your time.

But Satoru loved having you close and his many past/future regrets made him act like this. For 4 years he has been isolating you, you no longer go to school and you have private tutors, he fears that you want to leave like in the past, that others will monopolize your time when you could well do it with him. What if it was excessive? He was, but he didn't care about other people's opinions and even if his coworkers and friends told him that it was bad to isolate you, Satoru only made them less worried, you were fine like that.

Not for nothing has he killed and sacrificed anyone who interfered with his plans with you, the elderly were the first and those who bothered you followed them, he has already lost count of how many he killed, many times you almost died and that is why he preferred to lock you up, and you as a malleable girl (as hateful as it may sound, he just thinks you're very sweet and innocent) You think this is normal, it's just your precious daddy taking care of you.

"Ota-chan!! I've grown up, I'm 14 cm taller than the table!" You laughed raising your arms, Satoru smiled hugging you and lifting you into his arms. Yes, you definitely don't need to leave the house with anyone other than him, your precious golden cage where no one can touch you, much less take you away from him, will no longer allow you to die at the hands of others or be used against him.

"Tsk, Tsk! My little baby is growing, do you want to catch up with your Ota-chan? First drink milk so you can reach me! My dwarfy!" His lips went to your belly and tickled you, left behind was that girl who was abandoned and resentful of him, but who waited until the end, loving him in silence.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

The other night, dear, as I laid sleepingI dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistakenSo I hung my head and cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

TAG LIST: @louismae, @byakuyasgirlfriendandwife, @moonymoons-blog and 831 people from the previous post

And I thank all the people for waiting for this, damn it took me 4 years hahaha ha... I'm really sorry, but I was depressed so I had no inspiration or head for this, it's just a hobby thanks for your support [UNEDITED!]

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Where The Shadows Dance (iv)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER IV: The Tavern

SUMMARY: Taking care of the Princess of the Autumn Court is more challenging than Azriel anticipated

WARNINGS: more misogyny! (would it really be the autumn court without it), mentions of murder ig, alcohol and vomiting, swearing

NOTE: once more thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work <33 (check out their stuff rn istg)

WORDS: 2K

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

That was the only word that was flying around Azriel’s head as he knocked on the princess’s bathroom door and received no response. She had been in there for an hour now, doing Cauldron knew what, but her silence made Azriel uneasy.

Shit. He was in such deep shit.

And not just because Y/n may have drowned in her bathtub — or worse, been assassinated — but because of the way he felt about her.

Azriel was no stranger to attraction, and he knew he was attracted to the Daughter of the Autumn Court. It wasn’t just her undeniable beauty that drew him in — it was the way she held herself, the way she was so unafraid to provoke him, the fiery determination in her soul.

But he couldn’t feel that for her. Y/n was the only daughter of the Autumn Court, and if Beron discovered the feelings Azriel harboured for her… well Beron would probably send all four of his legitimate sons after him.

So he had distanced himself after the inner circle had left. He could tell it had hurt and surprised her, and of course he felt horrible, but it was the only thing he could do. The longer he spent with the Autumn Daughter, the more the attraction grew, so he decided that if he did not speak or engage with her, then maybe that would halt the growth.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but ask her questions, to answer hers, or to just talk to her. It must have been confusing for Y/n, with how much Azriel seemed to switch between being interested, and then ‘broody’, as she tended to put it.

“Lady Vanserra?” Azriel called, knocking on the wooden door. “Are you alright?”

He thought of how he had followed the princess into the bathroom earlier, and physically cringed. By the Cauldron, that had been embarrassing. He hadn’t even been thinking — he was too occupied with what she had said earlier, the way she had looked at him as she tried to seduce him. It probably would have worked if Azriel didn’t have centuries of training.

There was no answer, and Azriel’ worry grew. What if she had been assassinated? His shadows roamed the room beyond and… nothing.

Azriel opened the door, and what he saw made his blood boil. A pair of scissors lay on the ground beside what he assumed was parts of the princess’s gown, which had been transformed into a makeshift rope. It hung out of the window, and upon further inspection, she was not waiting at the bottom. Worst of all, though, was the guards stationed beneath her window were nowhere to be seen.

Where had they gone? Had they pursued the princess, or had she dealt with them otherwise? Azriel was beginning to see why the Daughter of the Autumn Court was constantly described as difficult.

Azriel took a deep breath. He needed to find her, and quickly. If Beron or anyone else discovered that she was missing…

The walls, his shadows whispered. She climbed over the castle walls.

Well, fuck. Azriel rushed to the window, intending on jumping out of it and dragging her back home, kicking and screaming, when a sly voice said, “Lost her already?”

Azriel whirled and found Eris leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed and a small smirk on his face. Fuck fuck fuck. What was he supposed to say? Oh yeah, I lost your sister and she’s climbed over the castle gates, my bad I’ll just go grab her.

Eris chuckled and shook his head, a single strand of his hair swinging in front of his face. “You need not to worry, shadowsinger. My sister is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

“I’m here to protect her,” Azriel ground out, although he was surprised at how calm Eris was.

Eris raised an eyebrow, the gesture mirroring the way his sister did it. “Are you sure about that?”

Azriel paused and glared at the heir. That was what he was here for, wasn’t it? To be the Autumn Daughter’s bodyguard, to protect her from harm. That was why he was here, in this damned court, rather than at home.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel demanded.

Eris sighed and walked over to the other side of Y/n’s bathroom. He felt around for a moment, and Azriel wondered if the heir had lost his mind before part of the wallpaper popped out, as if there had been a secret door. Azriel’s shadows fluttered towards it, and inside, squirrelled away, were…

“Tunics and pants?” Azriel stated, unimpressed.

Eris rolled his eyes and waved his hand, causing the glamour to disappear. There were still a few pairs of folded pants and tunics, but they were accompanied with jewelled daggers and small bags of gold.

Why would Y/n need to hide bags of gold? Her father was a High Lord, and she appeared to have every material thing her heart desired.

“Why are you showing me this?” Azriel questioned.

“When my sister musters up the courage to finally leave this place, I want you to protect her,” Eris stated plainly, folding his hands behind his back. Before Azriel could even speak, the heir continued, “But I also want you to know that it will not be an arduous task. I have been quietly training her in defensive combat for decades… but still, she is young, and untried. She will need someone to protect her from my father’s wrath, to give him pause if he considers going after her.”

Azriel watched the heir carefully. His shadows detected no lies, but… why? Did Eris truly care this much for his sister? Azriel had to admit, Y/n seemed to be able to worm her way into anyone’s heart, but…

“Why me?” Azriel inquired. “Why not yourself?”

“Trust me, shadowsinger, should my father show any inkling of wanting my sister dead, I will kill him myself,” Eris said sharply, his eyes flashing. “She just needs to be safe during that time.”

Azriel found himself considering it. He could take Y/n to the Night Court, he could show her Velaris, he could—

“Wait. When we uphold our part of the bargain… you want us to watch over your sister as well?” Azriel asked.

A nod was all he got in response. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything, when Eris commented, “You should probably go find my sister now. The Cauldron knows where she’s ended up.”

And, fuck, Azriel should be searching for her right now, but he was still dissecting what the fuck was going on here. What Eris was asking of him, and the Night Court. It would be considered an act of war if they harboured her — at least until Eris killed his father.

Azriel gave Eris one final glare before shadow-winnowing to the castle walls. From there, he followed Y/n’s scent, his shadows tracking her when her glamour was too strong for his immortal senses. Darkness had fallen by the time he had reached the main street, and his shadows led him to a tavern. It appeared to be similar to Velaris’s Pleasure Hall, and Azriel steeled himself as he entered.

Loud music assaulted his ears, the floor thrumming with the intensity of it. People danced everywhere, their bodies a large, twining mass. Azriel searched for the Autumn Princess, and his shadows found her before he did. She was in the middle of the dance floor, and had he not been so pissed at her in that moment, he may have stopped to marvel at her beauty. Her hair was loose, the top of her tunic unbuttoned, and she looked so free.

Did the people around her know that they danced and drank with their princess? As Azriel looked closer, he realised that her face looked slightly different — her eyes were larger, and her lips were lower. In fact, her skin was a few shades darker, and her hair was even a different tone. She had glamoured herself, even though no one knew what she really looked like.

Before he knew what he was doing, Azriel stalked through the sea of bodies, all the way to the princess. Her eyes lit up when she noticed him, a massive smile covering her face.

“Azriel!” she beamed, her voice slightly slurred. “You made it!”

Azriel narrowed his eyes at the princess. “What are you doing here?”

The princess snorted and downed the rest of her drink before he could stop her. “What does it look like, silly? I’m dancing!”

She threw her hands above her head, hips swaying to the beat of the music. People danced around her, as drunk as she was, almost as if they were some sort of hive-mind, and their only thought was to let loose.

“We’re going home,” Azriel ordered.

That seemed to sober the princess up slightly, causing her to frown and shake her head. “No. I don’t want to. I’m having fun.”

“Lady Va— Y/n, we need to leave,” Azriel urged.

Because, in this crowded tavern, anyone could be an enemy. Indeed, Azriel had already spotted several males eyeing her, although in their defence, there did not seem to be anything in their gazes beyond lust. Still, it infuriated the shadowsinger.

“Azriel,” Y/n groaned, as if he was being unreasonable.

“Please,” Azriel tried. “I’ll get into so much trouble if your father finds that we’re missing.”

It was the correct tactic, guilt tripping her, because it worked. She sighed deeply and hung her head, defeated. He felt slightly bad, but if Beron did discover that they were currently breaking at least seven of his rules… well, Azriel didn’t want to find out how he’d respond to that.

Y/n walked out with him, albeit a little drunkenly, stumbling and waving goodbye to people. When they started on the road to the castle, Azriel asked, “How often do you do this?”

Y/n shrugged and kicked a rock. “Every few weeks?”

“Every few weeks?” Azriel repeated, eyebrows raised. “How do you not get caught?”

“It’s easier when I don’t have a broody shadowsinger following me into my bathroom,” Y/n snickered.

Azriel frowned and refused to let his face flush. He looked around at the road, and he realised just how far they were from the castle. In his frantic search for Y/n, he hadn’t even noticed it was a relatively lengthy journey…

Y/n suddenly halted, hand clamped over her mouth, before she turned to the side of the road and emptied her guts into a bush. Azriel acted on instinct, gently grabbing her hair in one hand, and rubbing the other in soothing circles on her back. He remembered when he was her age, when he used to binge drink with Rhys and Cass… none of them would have even made it out of the tavern without puking, so she was doing better than all of them combined.

“I hope that wasn’t from the thought of me following you to your bathroom,” Azriel said, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/n laughed, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “No. Just at the thought of going back to the castle.”

She must have still been drunk to admit that so easily. Of course, she wasn’t entirely secretive about her distaste of her home, but still.

“You think you’re okay to walk?” Azriel asked.

The princess nodded, and Azriel thanked the Mother, because he really didn’t want her to throw up on him if he had to carry her. Azriel took his glove off and pressed the back of his hand to the princess’s forehead. She was warm, but not too warm, so she’d probably purged the sickness from her by now. Indeed, after doing that, Rhys, Cass, and Az would continue drinking, but that was not the case in this scenario.

As he pulled his hand back, she grabbed onto it suddenly. He was so shocked that he didn’t move when she pulled his hand closer and inspected it. Her fingertips were soft as they ran over the burn scars, and Azriel wished he’d never taken his glove off.

“Pretty,” she murmured. “Like art.” Azriel tried to pull his hand away, but Y/n held firm. “Really. There is a story behind every piece of art. And this art looks painful, but it’s beautiful.”

“Spoken like a true drunk,” Azriel muttered, finally yanking his hand away.

Y/n smiled sadly, and they walked back to the castle in silence.

TAGLIST: @honeybee54321 @marigold-morelli @lucky7rosie @itsswritten @paankhaleyaar @bubybubsters @5onedirection5 @lilah-asteria @sheblogs @thelov3lybookworm @blushingfawnsposts @thisiskaylin @morganisheree @sleepylunarwolf @bakananya @bookishbroadwaybish @namelesssaviour @glitterypirateduck @sfhsgrad-blog @ash-mc @feyres-fireheart @ib525 @azrielswhore @copenhagenspirit @eternallyelvish @teenagellamaangel @thisiskaylin @littleladdty @dnfhascorruptedme @taylorgriffin @fightmedraco

[puppymlovemail]

♫ baby steps!

word count: 5k overall, roughly 700 per member

pairings: OT8! x fem reader

warnings: mentions of cutting fruit in changbins, brief mentions of work/working late/work related stress, CHILDREN/PARENTING!

summary: stray kids as parents. or just in a more domestic familial setting.

sorry some of these are RUSHED i just really wanted these blurbs out of my drafts! these are fresh off the printer so if u see any typos no u don’t. don’t even worry about it.

in other other news, i finally fixed the issue w my ask box so. it should be in my bio now! feel free to request something! or just pester me :)

Christopher Bang

To say your date night did not go to plan would be an understatement. You and your husband had gotten all dolled up to go to a red carpet event with the band, Chan even helped you zip up your velvet red dress and you helped him adjust his tie. Everything was going to plan until you were putting on your stilettos when Chan walked into the bedroom, caution written all over his face. “Sana just called. She can’t make it tonight, her car broke down on the way here.” He said, his right arm finding solace on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles into your collarbone reassuringly. “How will the boys accept the award without their leader? You should go! I’ll stay and watch the kids.” You sighed, taking off your shoes and running a hand through your recently styled hair. He squeezed your shoulder to get your attention again, your gaze immediately turning back to his. “Absolutely not. Jeongin can make the acceptance speech, he’s the leader after all.” He teased, opting to sit next to you on your shared bed. “The boys understand that we’re parents now. So does the press. It’ll be alright if I miss one award show for the Bangs.” He leaned in and left a sweet kiss to your red lips. You cupped his face, fingers treading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

The moment was quickly cut when your three year old waddled into the room. “Mama!” She whinnied, immediately catching your and Chans attention. “Bath time!” She said, smile gracing her features, her eyes sparkling just like your husbands when he smiles. “And story time!” Her brother chimed, as he waltzed into the room, probably in search of his twin. Chans hand left your shoulder and squeezed your thigh quickly before clapping his hands together and standing up. “Bath first, story time second, you know this Tae.” He stated. “I thought Auntie Sana sleeping over tonight?” Tae inquired before whispering under his breath. Probably something about Sana letting his have story time first. “We decided we’d miss you way too much!” Chan then leaned down and grabbed his mini me. You giggled watching Tae try to squirm away playfully from his dad. Your daughter walked over to you, placing her hands on your knees to keep herself stable. “Up!” She chided, making grabby hands with her tiny little fingers. How could you say no?

That’s how you and Chan found yourself on your knees on the bathroom floor, situated in front of the master bathtub. “No more bubbles, Aera! Your brothers gonna drown in them darling.” You scolded, taking the soap away from her greedy hands. After that, the twins started conversing with each other, sharing a splash here and there and sharing their bath toys.

Chan leaned over and kissed your cheek, pulling away and interlocking his fingers with yours. “I love this. I love getting to do this with you.” He whispers. His words immediately make your cheeks tint. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You and them. Not even for a silly award.” You smiled, letting the warmth from the bath and from his words take over your being. “Best bath time ever, right guys?” You teased, directing the question to your children. “Would’ve been the bestest best if Auntie Sana was here.” Tae said, and his sister chimed in, “Yeah! Auntie Sana doesn’t hold hands with anyone but us!” She says, point at your hand interlocked with your husbands, your wedding ring on full display. “Bestest isn’t even a word, Tae!” Chan stated right before playfully splashing them with some of the bubbly water, their laughter filling the air with such love and joy. Your kids may be giant jokesters, but you know they get it from their dad and because of that you, as well, wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Not even a silly award.

Lee Minho

Your husband had decided to take your son outside to look at the fresh snow from the most recent snowfall last night. It’s freezing fucking cold out so you couldn’t even begin to conjure up a reason for why they’d be gone for longer than 15 minutes. Little did you know your son had stumbled across a kitten, no older than four weeks at most. The cat had crawled right up to your son, and laid down on his mitten covered hands. He looked up at your husband with most love struck face imaginable. “He’s purring Dad! Must mean he likes me…” He hummed, moving one of his hands to very gently scratch behind the grey kittens ear. “Or it could just mean you’re warm and it’s well below freezing out here.” He stated, sending your son a knowing glance. “Pleaseeeeee! Dori would love to have another girl in the house!” He whined, very carefully cradling the kitten in his arms. “And your mother would not.” But after those words left his lips Minho got a good look at the feline. The poor thing was shivering and mewling, no doubt hungry and cold. A stray. His big hand reached out to very lightly stroke the kitten, whose tiny glazed eyes sparkled with the snow littered across her fur. He let a sigh escape him. “We’ll have to take her home to get her warm, but after that we have to call someone and see if they’ll take her, alright bud?”

At that your son practically jumped out of his skin with excitement as he started speed walking straight to your front door, his father in tow, shaking his head, a smile smile gracing his face.

That’s how you ended up here. A few years later. Sprawled out on the couch, your back against your husbands chest. Doongie situated to his left, Dori at his right. Soongie was sat loafed in your lap. The kitten? A grown adult cat by now, also laid across your sons lap, fast asleep. Your son? Also asleep, and a teenager at this point. Getting to watch your son grow up with his kitten was well worth the battle keeping the cat costed the family. You could remember to this day when your little boy all but ran into the house with the kitten mewling in his grasps as he held her out to you, snow dripping down his winter coat and puddling onto the wooden floors. “We’re keeping her.” And then Minho came through the door, closing it before exclaiming “No we’re not!” You couldn’t help my smile at the fondness of the memory.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” Minho whispered, leaving a fleeting kiss to the top of your ear from behind you. You leaned further into his chest, allowing the warmth of him and the cats and the family all situated on this couch take over your senses. “Would you believe me if I said my undying love for you?” You teased. “Absolutely not.” He chuckled, as his hands roamed your hair, lazily braiding strands together out of boredom. “I’m just thinking about our son and that damned cat.” You started, “Remember how mad I was when you finally told me you were thinking of keeping her?” You peered over your shoulder to look at him, his honey eyes meeting yours. “What can I say. She grew on me.” You scoffed, leaning your head back against him, breaking eye contact. “Either that or you just love the idea of this little family of 7. Whether you care to admit it.”

“Well technically speaking 7 isn’t little.”

You grinned, smacking him lightly on the thigh in retort. “Oh shut up!”

Seo Changbin

You rubbed your eyes for the tenth time in the last three minutes. Waking up at 6am every Saturday to ensure your boys had lunches packed for their little league games was becoming a usual routine in your house, however it did not mean you enjoyed it.

Your husband was stood next you at the kitchen island, helping you cut up the fresh honey apples you both harvested from your garden a hour ago. Of course, only after having woken up the boys and telling them to get dressed and packed for the busy day ahead. Changbin turned to you, apple slice in his left hand as his right went underneath it, as it it were going to leave crumbs. “Open wide.” He instructed, flashing you a smile, his dimples on display. You fall more and more in love with him everyday, you think. You both certainly didn’t think you’d be here 10 years ago, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You open your mouth willingly and let him guide the bite sized slice into you mouth. “How is it?” He asks, his eyes glowing as he locks them with yours. “Tasty.” You hum, before redirecting your eyes back to the task and closing the tupperware on your finished slices.

Just as Changbin was about to close his two sets of tupperware, a cry sounded over the baby monitor placed on the kitchen table. Worry rushed onto your face as you grabbed the monitor without hesitation. Before you could utter a word your husband wrapped his arms around you, and let his face rest on your shoulder. “‘S okay! I’ll get him. It’s about time he got up anyway. You finish up here.” He stated, leaving a lingering kiss to your neck before pulling away and nodding his head to you reassuringly as he headed up the stairs. He knew how stressed everything has been making you lately, especially with your youngest just turning one. You smiled to yourself as you placed the monitor aside and finished putting snacks in the kids rightful lunchboxes. All of a sudden the monitor next to you lit up, detecting movement and your eyes darted to it once again. The quality had increased substantially since Changbin opened the blinds, it would seemed. “Hey kiddo! You ready to see your brothers play some ball?” He questioned, as he carefully reached into the crib to cradle the fussy baby. “Nah I think you’re more interested in seeing Momma, huh?” He hummed, leaving a kiss to his sons head. The toddler immediately rested his head against your husbands chest, finding comfort in his touch. His little thumb sucked in between his teeth. Trying to pry him off pacifiers wasn’t working very well, obviously. The moment left an unspoken feeling in your heart. Your thoughts were quickly cut short when you heard padded footsteps speed down the stairs to reveal your second child slide into the kitchen; heading straight for you.

“Momma! Are you ready to see me hit a home gun!” He giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head against your stomach. “It’s called a home run, Jun.” You teased as your reached down and ruffled his hair. He turned his attention to you and peered upwards. His eyes mirrored his dads almost perfectly. “Whatever!” He smiled, as he grabbed the lunchbox laid in front of you with his initials embroidered onto the center of it. Then it hit you. You and Changbin had only managed to make time for packing lunches this morning, you didn’t even check to see if the mini van had the kids gear.

“Hey! Iseul, do you have your baseball glove? Or is it in the car?” You shouted from the base of the first floor kitchen, only to get no response from your eldest upstairs. Tweens. You open your mouth again, preparing to scream a bit louder when you see your husband approach you, with your youngest in his arm, situated on his hip. He places his free hand on your shoulder and leaves a kiss to your cheek, making you complete forget why you had your mouth open in the first place. “Iseul left his glove at practice remember? We have to stop there before the game.” You rolled your eyes. Of course he left his glove at practice. At this rate, you were all going to be late to the game. As if Changbin could read your mind, his hand traveled to cup your cheek and redirect your gaze to him.

“Hey, we’re leaving early, alright? We’ll get there in one piece, don’t worry.” You leaned in and left a chaste kiss on his lips.

“How the Seo family makes it to every event unscathed boggles my mind every time.”

Hwang Hyunjin

Work these days was wearing you out. Your boss had insisted you put in extra hours considering you took two weeks off a few months ago to celebrate your husbands birthday, which just so conveniently was followed by your anniversary AND your daughters birthday the following week. If you had to guess you’d just assume your boss hated people with happy families because he’s been working you like a dog with extra paperwork. When you do get home, which hasn’t been till roughly 9 pm every night now, you felt utterly and completely exhausted and guilty. Not only were you missing your daughters childhood but you were causing Hyunjin to stay home more often, or get off work earlier so he could watch your daughter.

Today was no different. You put the key in the front door and after 5 unsuccessful tries you finally got the door to unlock. You walked in and noticed the living room TV didn’t happen to have a K-Drama on. Maybe Hyunjin put Yujun to bed early? You’ll probably find him in bed hogging all the blankets, you’re sure his day hasn’t been very easy either. You sighed as you kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat and purse. “Jinnie?” You whispered through the hallway, only to get no response. That was until you stopped in front of your daughters room, her door left ajar just by an inch.

“Oh but you must try the tea! Mr. Rabbit made it all by himself!” You heard your daughters voice ring, there she was, sat at her pink table dressed in her matching hot pink Disney princess dress. “Well if he made it all by himself…” That’s when your eyes drifted to your husband. You couldn’t decide if you should burst into laughter or coo at the sight. There he was, sitting crisscross applesauce in front of the table with an Elsa dress on. Most definitely Felix’s from Halloween, you could tell by how it was slightly too short on him considering his stature, which his daughter inherited quite the same, one of these days you’re going to have to get her a bigger table, as she was already towering over it.

His pinky lifted off the teacup as he brought it to his lips and took a sip. A grimace met his face as he lowered his cup back to the saucer on the table. “W-Wow! Mr. Rabbit has exquisite taste.” Hyunjin said, very obviously struggling to gag on the tea that was probably a mix of various liquids in your fridge.

It was then that you couldn’t help but laugh as you pushed the door open all the way. Your daughters eyes lit up the minute she saw you, a smile eating half her face as she ran towards you, almost toppling you over in an attempt to hug you. “Momma! You’re here just in time for the main course!” Hyunjin joined her side, patting her head, standing before you in his glittery blue dress. “Oh also this is Princess Elsa.” She stated, gesturing to Hyunjin. You leaned in to kiss him on the lips. “Welcome home, Y/N.” He whispered, chasing your lips for another kiss. “Leave that out of the castle! No Mom and Dad kissing allowed! Now go get a dress Momma! You have to join us!” Your daughter stated before trying to push you back out the door to make you retrieve a dress. “Let me go with her my queen! I have to make sure she picks out the best dress!” Hyunjin chimed, stepping into the doorway before wrapping an arm around your waist and leading you down the hallway to the master bedroom. You heard your daughter say something about setting an alarm and you better not take too long on your way into your room.

“Sorry for leaving you here to fend for yourself for so long Jinnie. I promise that today should be my last late d-“ and with that you were cut off by your husbands lips on yours, his mouth dancing gracefully with your own. His favorite way to express his love for you was always through kisses. He pulled away and held your face between his hands, as if he had the whole world in his palms. “Don’t apologize! I love being your husband just as much as I love being a father for our daughter, honey.” You all but melted at his words as you held him against you just a little tighter. “Plus, she hosts the best tea parties in all of land, if you must know.” He whispers, letting his fingers drum against your cheekbone as he takes in your features. “She loves you.” You hum, getting lost in his eyes. “She loves us.” He reassures, leaving one last kiss to your lips before you’re interrupted by a voice in your doorway. “That doesn’t look like picking out a dress to me!” Yunjun exclaims, causing all three of you giggle.

Nights like these reminded you why you go to work everyday. No matter how relentless it may be, at least you could guarantee you always had a fairytale to come home to.

Han Jisung

Your husband had proclaimed today as take your daughter to work day. This was in no way, shape or form a real thing. If JYP found out Jisung had snuck his four year into the company studio he might be found dead. But you? Oh you wouldn’t miss this for the world. You and Changbin had already laid a bet down for what you think would be broke in that studio before the end of the day. He argues it’ll be the mics, you argued it’d be the soundboard. As you neared the building you sent Jisung a text, letting him know you were close, as you made it to the front desk and through security, verifying you were here for your husband and no other sneaky business. You made it upstairs and into the studio hallways, your feet already knowing the way to your husbands by heart. Was it really your husbands? No. But Chans room was everybody’s room. That is until something ends up broken today. Then it’s definitely just his room. Your hand finally greets the handle and you push the door open, completely forgetting to knock once your heard Jisungs voice.

“Yeah and if you push that red button righhtttt- yep! Right there, it’ll start recording. See that blinking light up on the monitor? It’s recording everything we’re saying right now.” He instructed. His daughter held tightly against him as he leans her over the soundboard. She claps her hands together in enthusiasm. “I did it!” She giggles before he places her down onto the chair behind him and that’s when he notices you in the doorway. “Well hello gorgeous. Come round here often?” He remarks before pressing his fingers to the soundboard again and turning off the recording. “Only for super cool all rounder Han Jisung of hit boy band Stray Kids. See him anywhere?” You tease before closing the door heading towards him, he pulls you in close and you hug him tightly, your head finding comfort in his shoulder. “Lucky for you you’re lowkey married to him. No big deal or anything.” You giggle at his antics before snuggling deeper into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck. “How’s the piece going?”

“It’s going. Our daughters got some fire rhymes. I taught her to say swag on the mic.”

You rolled your eyes as you grinned and pulled back, placing a kiss to his forehead before peering over at the chair beside you. Your daughter was not sat there anymore. You knew it was strangely quiet. “Speaking of said daughter.” You said, resting your hand on his cheek as you redirected his gaze to the chair. “She was just there!” He stated exasperatedly. His expression was then met with a loud thud in the sound booth. You both peered over, your daughter hanging onto the mic stand which had now just unbolted from the wall. “Swag!” She giggled before puckering her lips and throwing you both a peace sign.

Needless to say that was the last take your daughter to work day that ever took place in Chans room. You were now 30 dollars shorter. Changbin? 30 dollars richer. But all that mattered to you was that your daughter never lost her quirkiness, and with her father wrapped around her finger, you know there’s no doubt she’ll ever be able to.

Felix Lee

Waking up in the middle of the night was never fun, especially with the lack of sleep you already got due to your work schedule. What didn’t help was the way your 5 year old daughter was also trying to get used to a new schedule. That schedule being kindergarten. So either way, having no sleep was becoming something you were trying to get accustomed to.

You squint your eyes open and glance at the alarm clock across the room on your shared dresser. 2:34 AM. You groan, and roll over, hoping that snuggling into your husband might make this sleeping task less daunting, but as your reach out to feel for his waist you’re met with nothing but cold sheets. Worry instantly dawns on you, sitting straight up in bed you bring your clammy hands to your eyes and begin to rub them awake.

“Felix?” You announce loudly into the dark space of the master bedroom you both share, expecting him to be in the in suite bathroom. You’re met with radio silence. Your feet find comfort in Felix’s slippers, which happened to be so conveniently placed at the end of the bed. You trudge your way down the hallway, already knowing where your feet will take you.

Leaning against the door, hand grasping the doorknob, you gently push your daughters bedroom door open and it’s then that you’re met with a sight that melts your heart.

There he is. Felix, in his 5’7 glory, situated on a toddler bed half his size. Your gaze shifts to the right and you find your daughter pressed snuggly into his chest, his right arm wrapped around her, keeping her safe even whilst they were both unconscious. As you carefully walk closer to them you notice a worn book in your husbands left hand, which was already dangling off the pretty purple and gold princess bed. Le Petit Prince.

You carefully place said book on the floor, removing it from his grasp as you place his arm back onto the bed, by his side. Felix will always be your daughters favorite comfort, and just because it’s your two favorite people in the world, you reckon sleeping alone tonight won’t be so bad, if it means she can wake up well rested with her knight in shinning arm by her side.

Kim Seungmin

You woke up to the sound of a slam, and instead of getting up to investigate it, you rolled over in your shared king bed, undoing your husbands hands around your waist in the process. “Min.” You whispered, leaning in and kissing his nose. No response. You could tell by the way his ears tinted pink he was definitely awake, so you kissed his nose again until you heard a throaty mhm? His eyelashes fluttered open slowly, puppy eyes locking with yours. He was unamused by you demanding him to be awake with you in misery, as he knew what you were about to ask. “Mini Min is in the kitchen, i’m almost certain.” You stated, dramatically throwing your right arm over your eyes. “Someone should definitely put her back to bed…” He blinked at you, but after a long ten seconds passed in silence, he knew arguing was fruitless. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he pulled himself off the bed. “You owe me.” He called out as he shrugged on the silk blue robe situated on the vanity near your bedroom door. If there was one thing Seungmin mastered over the past 7 years with your daughter, it was definitely Dad Fashion.

He shuffled into the kitchen and his eyes could already faintly make out the silhouette of his daughter in the dark, before an open overhead cabinet. “If you fall off that counter I am not going to catch you.” he grumbled, leaning against the archway in the kitchen and flicking on the light switch to reveal her hand in the candy cabinet. Little Mins head snapped to look at who caught her red handed. Whilst turning her head around so quickly, she started to stumble. Despite telling himself to stand still to prove his point, he sped over to the marble counter and put a hand behind her back to prevent her from falling backwards. “Thought you wouldn't catch me?” her voice chimed childishly with her hushed dove-like voice.

She sounded like the perfect mix of you and him. You’d tell him all the time that he better watch out because she’d make a perfect singer. You’d both have to agree that she resembled him to an uncanny degree physically, with her honey brown eyes and shoulder length soft black hair. It was hard to stay mad at her for long though, since her behavior was always so reminiscent of you both. "You better have a good reason for being out of bed." Seungmin said, rubbing his eyes as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her off the counter, opting to rest her on his hip instead. She clang to his robe immediately as he quickly closed the cabinet he found her rustling in. "What were you doing?"

Minnie looked away from him shyly before muttering "Nothing… just wanted some of Uncle Lixies brownies." Seungmin laughed as he casually started heading back down the hallway towards his shared bedroom with you, turning off the kitchen light in the process. “We ate the rest of those last week puppy.” He chimed, stopping in front of the bedroom door, fingers digging into her sides as he tickled her “You’re gonna have to sleep with Mama and Daddy tonight, so we can keep your crimes at bay.” The air filled with her breathy laughter, her head leaning backwards as she smiled in joy. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

Yang Jeongin

You sighed for the millionth time in the last hour. This car ride was pure and utter torture. “Hey! How about we play an awesome new game called stop kicking Dads seat, mhm?” Jeongin quipped, shooting a narrowed glare to your son in the backseat and flashing his effervescent smile to him. The 5 year old swiftly ignored him and continued his temper tantrum. You and your husband were bound to have migraines at this point. However, you had to give your son the benefit of the doubt, you were driving him to his first day of kindergarten, his first day all by himself.

In protest, you placed a finger on the volume dial on the SUVs dashboard, turning up the music loud enough to crack glass. Jeongin glanced at you before redirecting his eyes back to road, faking a wince as he giggled in fits as you began to sing (if you could even call it that) Can’t Stop. After a long ride filled with endless Jeongin song covers on the car speakers, your husband turned into the parent drop off line, hopping out of the car and opening his sons door. His protests died down once he got to listen to his fathers singing. It’s always worked wonders on him, ever since he was a newborn.

Jeongin quickly unbuckled him from his car seat before lifting him and placing him on the floor. You followed in suit by meeting him on the other side of the car and placing his bookbag on his shoulder. You crouched down to his height, hand reaching for his cheek. “Hey, baby. You’re gonna do great. Your teachers will contact me or Daddy if you need anything at all. We love you, and we’re super proud of you being such a big boy today!” You stated, locking eyes with his the whole time before leaning forward to leave a kiss on his bang-covered forehead. Jeongin watched you both interact with hearts in his eyes before he mirrored you and crouched parallel to you, taking his sons little hand in his big one. “Mamas right. Despite your tantrum on the way here, we will always love you. You didn’t hear it from me but I think piano class may be your first subject today….” He trailed, winking at your son. He smiled back at his Dad and you, his expression mirroring his fathers perfectly. “No way! I have to get to the piano room first!” He exclaimed, kissing your husband on his cheek and then kissing you as well before sprinting to the doors of the school, his teacher meeting him at the double doors. With one glance back to you both, with a big toothy grin, he walked into the building, likely bolting to get to the best piano in the music classroom. His teacher waved at you both from afar before following him in. You sighed once more, right arm wrapping around your husbands waist as you leaned up against him.

“He’s all grown up, Jeongin.” You all but whispered, glancing upward to steal a peek at your husband, but his eyes were already scanning your face. He leaned forward and kissed you sweetly for a second before pulling away. “He’s gonna be such nerd because of your scholar brain.” He teased before undoing your arm and heading to his drivers side door, and hopping back into the car. What a loser, you thought, as you rolled your eyes and hopped into the passenger seat. You can bet the car ride home consisted of Stray Kids songs being sung as duets between you two, and endless teasing was surely endured as well.

[kiraman]

Killing Strangers PART II, must read PART I. first. Read them back to back if you can for the full experience.

JOHN WICK AU. death/blood/violence cw / Mizu x female oc

wordcount: 3,905 / soundtrack

People don't understand the word ruthless. They think it means 'mean.' It's not about being mean. It's about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It's about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the pure, absolute, unbridled perfection of it. – K.A Applegate.

No one's expecting the girl who burned to rise from her ashes. She is not her; she is neither here nor there, she's a ghost, he's smoke smoke smoke, it slips through your fingers; ashes and embers; consuming and resuming herself. They do not know they have been promised death by her hand. But she does. Smoke does. And a promise made, Must be honored.

She does try to stay in the shadows at first. There are 10 million dollars hanging heavy over her head, and she will not fill anyone's hands with them; blood money. Stained by fear; weakness; desperation. She does not care that the world is hot on her trail, death dogging her every step. Like smoke, she slips through the cracks, filling their lungs with her death; a pistol cold in her hand, silencer on, bullets flying; precision; effectiveness. No witnesses left. They come for her, and she takes down five men in a back alley, stitches half torn open, snarling fiercely, growling her rage; she does not shed blood with her knife this time, only with her gun. She does not stop to watch who's chasing after her shadow.

She knows where to find him now; and that is all that matters to her.

It's New Year's Eve and the Cellar, (what they call the obscenely large space Violet uses to throw sinfully lavish parties at his mansion where he lives with his wife and daughter, half way across New York where the core of his group operates. ) is thrumming with life, packed full of people,  all flushed, decadent exuberance and loud techno music blaring through the night, filling the air with its hollowness.

Mizu stares through the windows, letting the flickering strob-lights blind her until it's time to move.

With swift, controlled movements she pulls her jacket on, black, slick, bulletproof. She readjusts the holster of her dagger, strapped at her hip. Neon light glints off her sunglasses, neatly arranged onto her nose as she moves.

Like a shadow, she delves into the depths of his lair, unassuming, swift, like smoke, like the wind, unfathomably quick, unerringly, expertly infallible in her calculations.

Crowds throng her way, pulsing with music, swelling, swaying in the rhythm, the low, droning sound of it. She pushes her way through the throng, the grimy light of the club casting her in silhouette as she ascends the stairs to the second level. Unarmed, no guns are allowed here, in the club; still, she takes down the man guarding the door to the second floor; he grunts, a vicious, wounded sound torn from his throat as she wraps her arm around his throat and squeezes the life out of him; he thrashes violently against her, but she calmly covers his mouth with her other hand and squeezes viciously against his nose, not giving way, until he slumps over, heavy with death. She tosses him aside, and reaches for his gun, frowns when she notices it doesn't have a silencer.

Fuck it. So be it. Loud it is.

When she shoves her way onto the second floor, she sees him; sitting across from her. The strobe lights overhead cast his face in strange half-light. He is here, alive; throbbing darkly, darkly; she cannot see past his hand, curled around some young girl's waist; that same hand, stroking her hair; Mother dead in the bathtub, drowning in her blood; she cannot see past his face, dark, head thrown back in laughter, and everything around her fades away.

Smoke— ?

a man snarls somewhere near her, surprised. She looks his way, hand on her gun; his eyes fall to her hand. — You working?

Everything around her freezes, becomes smoke, fades away with her breath.

No. Not tonight... You?

Yes.

They stand, like this, motionless, stiff, breath thick in their throats, something dark trembling at the very edge of the room, and for a moment, the whole world seems to stop spinning, comes to violent halt to stand right in front of her.

She is faster than him, gun flashing under the lights as she lifts it and fires, shot after shot piercing the air, cold, metallic. Glass shatters, an explosion of metal and light as she shoots at the glass ceiling overhead, bullets riddling the mirrors flashing under the strobe lights, smashing them onto the floor and onto the bodyguards guarding the stairs leading to the third floor. Pure adrenaline washes over Mizu, and she is at her feet, growling as they hurriedly carry Violet away; his name poison in her mouth as she calls out to him, amd he looks back, pure terror in those dark eyes before he's ushered away to safety. There are throngs of people screaming around her, scrambling for the exits, but she does not even see them, her eyes, dark and terrible and dark, honed in on him; she kicks out powerfully at a man running towards her, swings and disarms him, ferociously snapping his wrist and twisting his hand towards himself, emptying his own gun into his stomach, then with a sharp, sudden twist of her torso, plunges the last of its bullets into the head of a second guard launching himself towards her.

The rasp of a door breaking open on its hinges crackles in the air, and metal floors squeaking from the men rushing in. Mizu quickly stands and turns, viciously collars the woman running by her, Violet's daughter, with her left hand and lifts her out of the grasp of her bodyguard clean into the air, unhesitatingly shooting him in the face. Snarling breathlessly, she hoists her in front of her body and turns towards the door, kicking out and ducking, shooting at another man at her left, kicking him back down and crashing his skull with her boot, and then the men from downstairs are flooding in, their rifles pointed in at her and the first man pauses as he comes through the hysterical crowds around them to take in the sight of the girl hanging in the air in front of Smoke and in the moment of his hesitation Mizu, unflinchingly, shoots him dead. She uses her body as a shield, relentlessly firing round after round until the dance floor is littered with bodies, sticky with their blood.

Another one she recognizes as one of Violet's right hands rushes in, and she throws her dagger at his chest, unerringly piercing it open. The man’s legs collapse from under him and Mizu drops the girl into a swing and launches her into the air at the other man taking aim with his gun and the man recoils in horror as the daughter of his boss flies towards him, drops the weapon to catch her as she crashes into him and Mizu is already on top of him as they fall to the ground and she smiles into the man’s eyes and fires the last round left into his head. She looks up towards the stairs leading to the third floor, and takes the man’s rifle, swings it smoothly upwards on the ball of her foot and then she is out the door and after Violet, leaving his daughter behind, unconscious but alive.

It's dark in the hallway, the low drone of the music coming from underneath, vibrating through the floor. She holds her gun tighter, loaded and cocked. It is so quiet she can only hear her own heartbeat, a distant humming, static, electric, the fan overhead, whirring in the smoky air. The walls that line the hallway are made of glass,  reflecting the light pouring in through the windows back onto one another, a narrow strip of low-light. She walks, noiselessly, ears pricked, until the slightest motion pierces the dam of the silence surrounding her, and she is furiously ducking, flying onto the floor as she expertly fires a bullet through two of the men laying in wait for her around the corner, sending them smashing through a glass wall. Glass shatters all around her, and she groans, blood streaming down her face and into her mouth, but she does not feel it, she can't feel anything past the rage in her blood. She is angry.

She cocks her rifle and empties it into the vague shape of a figure that she can see running along the hallway on the other side through the glass, and the wall shatters, shards of glass exploding, raining down onto her head; she tosses the empty rifle aside and quickly, too quickly, turns around, gathering a fistful of glass, sharp shards of it that she unerringly throws into the throat and neck of a second guard running down the stairs towards her, shooting blindly. With a cry derived far more from anger than pain, she head butts the other bodyguard that comes pouncing towards her from the shadows -shattering his nose, his face instantly crimson with blood- before slashing the last of the shard of glass in her hand wide, severing the bodyguard's artery. She reaches for the gun of the first man and loads it; she is angry; she can't see past the blood trickling down her cheek, beading at her neck. She throws herself onto another man, swings her legs around and wraps them around his throat, squeezing until his spine breaks as she uses his body as a shield, expertly shooting another five men dead with no more than six bullets; shot after shot after shot, she sends them all crashing into the glass walls, each with a neat bullet hole through their spines and the arteries lining their thighs. Spitting out blood, she is on her feet and ducking behind a marble statue just as she hears more men running up and down the stairs; she is angry; she reloads another gun she took from one of the dead men while running over their bodies, and stills her breathing to near motionless, laying in wait, blood pounding at her temples; silence. Shards of glass crashed under the heel of a boot; her breath, slow, tight in her throat; pulse beating in her neck;

This is death hanging on an infinite number of miniscule mischances.

Anything could tip the world around her, here. Someone coughing in the dark, a distraction. A variation in the low light filtered through the glass, a deceptive shadow.

She is angry. She lifts her gun and waits, silent, invisible, unseeable; they round the corner and with a twist of her body she powerfully, flawlessly swings onto her feet around the marble statue and riddles their backs with her bullets; blood sputters and stains the glass, streaming down the walls; one of the men, growls, furious, and pounces, throws himself at her from the dark, she had not seen him, and Mizu, gasps, shocked, ripping her shoulder away from his hand and furiously punching her elbow into the side of his throat.

Having already thrown her empty gun aside, her hands are free and her fingers, extended in a leap, dig into the edge of his jacket. The man loses his balance; the tug bends him backwards, forcing him to totter back. He struggles furiously, violently rips the jacket off his shoulders and frees himself. Too late. Mizu spins him round by hitting him in the shoulder with her right hand, then immediately strikes him in the neck under the ear with her left. The man - Violet's highest ranking assassin, she realizes; the Jackal- reels but does not fall. She is furious; her eyes, flash, a low growl of pure, uncontrolled rage thrumming in her throat; Jackal digs his fists low into her ribcage where her stitches have torn and she groans, anger flaring up inside her like a flame that explodes, shattering the world around her. Mizu grabs him by the front of his shirt, spins him violently and throws him to the ground. She clenches her fist and thumps him from above. Straight in the mouth. His lips split like blackcurrants, blood filling his jaw and chin, teeth smashing. She growls, moans against the sting of his fingers still digging into her side; one of her hands holds him down by the throat, viciously, like a hammer, like a knife, the other one breathlessly reaching for the gun thrown near them, spinning around and shooting another five, six, seven men down, a bullet through two lungs, a bullet to the side of a neck, then right through a skull, one, two, three shots, a bullet to a thigh, then chest, ripping it open; blood spatters, splashing her face. She reels around, draws her hand back from his throat and punches him again.

She is punching him, over and over, her hands a flurry, a black blur. His face is hot and stinging as boiling water. She is angry; she sees him, black suit, black coat, black sunglasses, a black tiger tattooed on his wrist, emerging from the fire. Mother dead in the bathtub, drowning in her blood.

She punches his face into a pulp, then draws back, groaning, clutching her side. She wastes no time; with an almost frustrated groan she pulls herself to her feet, and staggers down the hallway.

The shattered glass walls shake, vibrating with the distant music coming from down below. She bends and picks up the dagger she had thrown to a man's throat, cutting it open, finds a gun amongst the guts and blood.

She walks slowly down the hall; her face is covered with blood, and her lower lip is split open. Blood is spilling through her shirt where her wound has been ripped open. She does not care; she does not feel the pain.

She's close so close; her hands are cold, precise, calmly, furiously, ruthlessly holding her gun.

And then, she sees him, there, black suit on, immaculately pressed, sat at his desk under a glass ceiling, and she is sunk for a few seconds in the strangest calm of her life. There, within her reach, sits him; him who has violently ripped her life away from her; he, who has plunged her into that fire that still burns inside of her with a rage that nothing could ever snuff out.

His eyes are open and stare back at her with something frighteningly calm in them. Except for the irises, which are of flecked grey so that they seem smokey like the hoar mist on a winter's morning, his eyes are dark. Black. It takes Mizu a few seconds to realise that they have no expression at all.

She steps forward, her boots, slick with blood, making soft, strange noises as she walks towards him slowly, her mouth twisting into a terrifying snarl. Blood trickles down her chin. She licks it away, eyes unblinking, piercing him through with their rage.

"you won't make it out alive... kill me, and then what? you think you'll somehow walk away from this unharmed?"

Mizu does not answer. She cocks her gun.

"there is more coming..."

"—let them." she snarls, calmly, a dark edge to her voice.

She is furious. Her pulse shatters in her throat.

He blinks, and she can see the fear rising in those eyes; he looks behind her, into the hallway, the floor littered with bodies. There's no other coming.

He huffs, reaches for the bottle of whiskey set somewhere near him on the desk, pours himself a drink, then another one, presumably, for her.

Pathetic.

He gulps thickly, his left hand twitching.

She is furious; her blood is pounding at her ears, each beat bringing her closer to that fire, that flame that burns everything inside of her to ashes and from it, rises only smoke, smoke, smoke.

Silence; the clink of a glass against the bottle; his breath, hard, riven with fear. Her heartbeat, furious, dark, thrums in her throat.

Mother dead in her blood. Fireworks lighting up the sky, exploding into flames.

"no one, not even you, can kill everyone. you are not God." he sneers, a hideous glint in his eyes. His fingers twitch.

"I am your God." she coolly drawls.

Silence. Her breathing stilled to near motionlessness. She hears him swallow and the sound makes her sick.

He reaches for the whiskey, his ring clinking against the bottle.

Mizu pulls the trigger.

His head jerks back violently, splattering the desk with blood.

Mizu stands in the blackness that surrounds her and watches his head loll to the side, the glass of whiskey slipping from his hand, crashing onto the floor.

Blood from her nose spatters the floor nearby.

Outside, fireworks explode, lighting up the sky.

The year must have changed.

Silently, she turns around, and walks away.

She does not look back; she does not look back again until she's at the door, reaching for the knob;

A bullet comes whizzing right past her left ear, and she turns around, furiously, hand on her gun, cocking;

There is a boy stood at a door, near her. He can't be more than seven. His hands, tremble as it raises a gun he's taken from one of the dead guards upstairs, no doubt, and aims it towards Mizu.

Shock floods her system; she did not know Violet has a son; had a son.

Mizu's hand curls, twitches. She hesitates; she hears his little breath, sharp in his throat; hears his feet scuffle against the floor. She feigns a smile, says, it's alright... it is alright, then pounces, easily removing the gun from his hand. She calmly, too calmly, pulls back the slide, locking it all the way to the rear, and empties the chamber, pouring the rounds out onto her open hand, before tossing the magazine aside. She lets the boy watch her, lets him look into her eyes as she loads her gun. Lets him memorize the shape of her face, sharp and horrible in the shadows; she blinks at him for a moment, blankly, silent, not seeing him but his father in those small, dark eyes of his, and, then, without so much as a second glance, walks away and into the night.

Into the cold night air, the wound in her side is continuously sending sharp jolts of pain right through her. She clutches at it, hissing, walking away swiftly, in control, slick, dark jacket soaked with blood. Distant sirens pierce the silence, and there is police crawling all over the streets around her. She turns a corner, heaving for breath; her steps are calm, measured, but quick, hurrying away. There’s an unmarked car idling in the alley—there always is, she doesn’t know where she gets them—

Mizu blinks and suddenly she’s beside her, a warm shape in the dark. 

"Took you long enough." Geraldine says, breathless, her cheeks scarlet with rouge, cold from the wind lashing against her as she stands in the night, waiting for Smoke, and then, "come on- hurry..."

Mizu pours herself into the backseat, groaning. When Geraldine leans over to click her seatbelt into place, her hair—loose and spilling over her shoulders—falls against Mizu's torn cheek. She shuts her eyes, a pained sound dying off in her throat, breathing in the faint smell of warm skin and her perfume, something sour and sweet; smoke and lilacs.

When she opens her eyes again, Geraldine is sitting in the front, furiously driving away. The light of the GPS casts her face in strange half-light, occasionally sliced-through by the flash of the streetlamps through the window. She could be carved from marble, impossible and cold under her hands.

Not that she has ever touched her.

“I thought I defrauded more money for you than this,” Mizu says archly, feeling the car speed up dangerously. “No, Smoke." Geraldine sighs theatrically, exasperation in her voice. “No. You did not. shame on you. Hold on.” she shifts gear, and the car flies down the street, like a bullet, piercing the night.

“Right,” Mizu says, and lets her head loll back against the leather. She can feel the beginning of an ache, behind her eyes— her blood is hot in her veins, it's lava; live coals; she is still burning. “Yes.”

She stares out the window, letting the flickering street-lights blind her until she falls back into uneasy sleep.

Her phone rings, tearing her from her sleep.

She blindly reaches for it and answers, but does not speak.

She blinks through the pounding in her head; she is still in the car, it's still night outside; Geraldine is still driving.

She can't have been out of it for more than, what? Half an hour?

This isn't over. a cold, sharp voice on the other side of the line growls low in her ear.

Mizu does not answer. Geraldine flicks her eyes over to her, watches her through the rearview mirror. Her eyes are so bright; burning with something furious; fierce beauty and hunger,

Mizu does not know why she notices right then; she stares right back at her through the mirror, blindly, listens to the man on the other side of the line breathe, waiting for her answer;

when she does not give it to him, he says, fury in his throat, you think I'll let you walk away from this? you think we won't come after you with everything that we've got?

As she listens to the voice on the other end, Mizu remains still... stoic.

Yeah. Yes... I would not know how to respond to this either.

Mizu does not react. Geraldine's eyes in the mirror reflect the light; like flames, dark, carnelian; she blinks, a frown lining her face.

The man on the line is cut off by an intercom which squawks to life in the distance, a screaming voice reduced to panicked static. He laughs, and there is nothing in that voice; it's dead, cold. Empty.

Fowler. Can't be anyone but him.

But you betrayed him-

...and she betrayed us.

They are not our friends - Geraldine had said, laughter in her voice; silk; smooth, tickling her ear; no one is our friend.... everyone is our friend.

Why? What could we have possibly —

Realization washes over like a tidal flood, adrenaline bursting through her veins, ears ringing. Mizu cuts him short, hanging up; the line goes dead.

There is fury in her eyes now; and she says, move over, and Geraldine screams, says what the fuck, Smoke? as Mizu climbs her way into the front and hurriedly makes her switch seats with her so that she can drive down the harbor, furious, enraged, a hurricane, tearing the veins of the city open.

When they park outside the Cabinet, the flames have already consumed it whole, floor to ceilings, and Geraldine pours out of the car in shock, screaming her throat raw, sinking to her knees amidst the ashes. Her father looks down on them blindly, throat sliced open, hanging, dead and heavy, from the rooftop, swaying in the air.

And for a moment, only for a moment— Mizu forgets how to breathe.

[tdciago]

Tiresias, Actaeon and Gator's Oedipus Complex

This post will contain some spoilers for episodes after 5.3. In case you haven't already noticed, season 5 has been drowning in bathroom references. Dot lures Donny Ireland to the master bathroom to attack him with fire, then attacks him again in the restroom of the Gas 'n Go with frozen water, causing him to slip to his death by hitting his head on the toilet.

Roy relaxes "in moist repose" in his hot tub, and later perches on the closed toilet as his twin daughters take a bubble bath. He mentions a law that forbids horses from sleeping in bathtubs. Dot has to sponge her pits in Lorraine's commode. Wayne tells Indira he threw up in the downstairs commode. Danish tells Wayne, "Broke his skull in the commode of a filling station." Witt says, "I'm guessing there was a perp in the commode?" Dot attacks Gator's buddy Pace with a toilet tank lid during the Halloween home invasion.

Gator stops at the Gas 'n Go to "drain the snake," and Roy calls Donny "the guy with his head in the toilet." When Mama Munch investigates the noise upstairs, we see the bathroom as she walks down the hall, and it remains in the left side of the shot as we discover Munch in the rocking chair. Later, an overhead shot tracks from that bathroom to the bedroom. The description of the first episode of season 5 notes, "A series of unexpected events lands Dot in hot water and she is plunged back into a life she thought she left behind." In episode 5.3, Witt reads a newspaper story that finds Gator "in hot water" again. Bathrooms seem like dangerous places. Movies like "The Shining" and "Psycho" have depicted bathrooms as especially threatening for women, but this season finds them just as treacherous for men. I am reminded of a scene from "Jurassic Park" in which a female T-Rex (they were ALL female) kills a guy named Donald on the toilet. And, as Gator points out, Dot's a bird, and birds used to be...dinosaurs. My recent post on Tiresias reminded me that there are two myths from Greek mythology that involve unfortunate men seeing a goddess bathing naked, and being punished for it. The first is Tiresias himself, who, in one account, is blinded by Athena for the transgression of seeing her naked. The other incident involves the hunter Actaeon, who stops at a spring to cool off, only to see Artemis (Diana) naked as she bathes with her nymphs. As punishment, she splashes Actaeon with water, turning him into a stag. He is then chased and torn apart by his own hunting dogs, who don't recognize their master. Remember: Roy is present as his twin daughters bathe. Do the daughters represent these two goddesses? Gator has been likened to Oedipus. So, what if, as a teen, he saw Nadine bathing naked, setting off a sexual attraction to his (step)mother? It seems as though Munch, the Tiresias truth-sayer of this season, is grooming Gator to be the new Tiresias. If the episode title "The Useless Hand" refers to the Tennyson poem "Tiresias," then Munch breaks Gator's wrist to simulate that idea. Dante places Tiresias in the circle of hell with fortune tellers and false prophets, whose heads are turned backwards as punishment, so they can never have foresight again. And Gator wears his sunglasses on the back of his head. If I'm right about the gruesome accident in 5.4 being the woman's head getting twisted around like the Mayor of Halloweentown, then that's another reference to Tiresias. Tiresias also had the gift of augury, meaning that he could hear the future in the songs of birds, and Dot is compared to a bird. And certainly Gator being blindfolded fits with the story of the blind Tiresias. It's interesting that, in the 16th century flashback, the priest is filmed with his head centered against antlers on the wall, so he looks like a man turning into a stag. Could Bryn's transgression have been similar to Actaeon's? There will be a reproduction of a Velazquez painting used in season 5, in the scene with Lorraine at a restaurant, of Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand dressed as a hunter. Wikipedia notes that he is supposed to represent Actaeon in this painting. Nadine is an anagram of Dianne, a variation of Diana. If Gator and Nadine are connected by "hot water," that would explain at least half of Gator's comparison to Oedipus, and it would go a long way toward explaining all the bathroom/water references this season.

Photos: https://imgur.com/a/nKFYMUa Actaeon: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Actaeon Cardinal-Infante Ferdinand as a Hunter, by Velazquez: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cardinal-Infante_Ferdinand_of_Austria#/media/File%3ADiego_Vel%C3%A1zquez_-_Retrato_del_Cardinal-Infante_Fernando_de_Austria.jpg Fargo: This Useless Hand! https://www.tumblr.com/tdciago/735839243983896577/fargo-this-useless-hand?source=share Fargo: It's a Twister! https://www.tumblr.com/tdciago/735299222722740224/fargo-its-a-twister?source=share

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Clara and the Bad Dinosaur

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 1, 687

Summary: playing the wrong movie results in a disaster of the toddler variety (artwork can be found here)

Warnings: poor little toddler cries, Dieter gets sad, mild angst but lots of happy fluffy stuff at the end, mild spoilers for Jurassic Park 3 and Jurassic World

Check out masterlist here

Parenting had its good and bad days, its ups and downs. Today was one which had both. You had gone out for a simple errand but as soon as you walked in the door, you were bombarded with tears as your daughter ran up to you crying.

“Mummy! The bad dinosaur!”

“Bad dinosaur?” you looked to your husband for context. Dieter was looking like he had committed possibly the worst crime and immediately regretted it.

“I accidentally put on Jurassic Park 3 instead of Jurassic Park,”

“Rexy dead!” she wailed. Now it all made sense.

“Oh, my sweet little pumpkin,” you cuddled her close to you, “Rexy isn’t dead.”

“No?” Her voice had calmed a little.

“No. Dr. Grant went to a different dinosaur island. So the Spinosaurus killed a different T-Rex. Your Rexy is still alive.”

“Rexy not dead?”

Dieter chimed in, “She shows up in Jurassic World.”

“World?” Clara asked and now you knew that she would want to watch this film. You sighed away the frustration of this upcoming task.

“We can watch that later. You went through a big sad emotion, and I think you need a nap to feel better,” you kissed her little face which was showing signs of being tired. You scooped her up and, after washing her face, put her down for a nap. Coming out of her bedroom, you found no signs of your husband. Eventually you found he had retreated to the bathroom. Dieter was lying in the empty bathtub, hoping to drown himself in his sadness.

“Dieter, what’s going on?”

“I’m a terrible father,” he sounded so convinced.

You tried to reassure him, “No you’re not.”

“I made our daughter cry.”

“You didn’t mean to though,” you hopped into the bathtub and snuggled close to him, “You made one silly mistake. I’m sure I’d put on the wrong Land Before Time, which is the one she likes?”

“The second one. She’s not ready for the first one, and Chomper is her favourite.”

“Why does our daughter love T-Rexes so much?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, they both have tiny arms?” the mood lightened as you both chuckled.

“You’re a great father,” before you could deny this, you continued, “You can play with her for hours, I’m exhausted after 10 minutes. And you make her laugh so much. I swear she’ll burst into bubbles of giggles from how much you make her laugh.”

Dieter smiled, “Well, you’re good at dealing with her when she’s being difficult or sad.”

It was your turn to shrug, “I’m used to dealing with difficult clients. It’s a lot more understandable with toddlers, they’re so much easier to deal with.”

“They’re also so much cuter.”

“Dieter, your hand is on my butt.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it means I know you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling a lot better,” his hand wandered over the rest of your body, getting higher and higher until you gave him a warning grumble, “So you don’t want to get naked?”

“Not right now. Clara will be up from her nap soon and she’ll want to watch Jurassic World, so you’ll have to distract her while I fast forward through any sad parts.”

“Can we skip through the dialogue? Some of it’s worse than Cliff Beasts.”

You nodded, “Who talks like that? And I’m skipping that kid staring at that girl because it’s downright creepy.” You both got out of the bathtub, “Do you want to wake her or make a snack?”

“I can wake her if you want.” You parted in the hallway. Dieter gently woke up Clara.

“Cupcake, time to wake up,” she slowly opened her eyes, “Hey, I’m sorry I put on the wrong dinosaur movie.”

“It’s okay.” She got up and wrapped herself around her father’s neck like a baby sloth and he carried her out to the living room.

“So, do you want spaghetti or meatballs for dinner?”

“I have both?”

“You want both?” he gave a silly dramatic sigh, “I guess you can.”

He put her down and she immediately ran over to where you had put some snacks on the coffee table. As you all settled on the couch, you put on the movie.

“I was offered a part in this film.”

This fact surprised you, “Were you?”

“Yeah, but I hate franchise films and there was too much green screen.”

You would have furthered enquired about this, but you needed to be the parental guidance for this film. You reassured her that the pig definitely didn’t get eaten by the Velociraptors and shielded her from seeing it actually getting eaten.

Clara was very much like her mother and loved a scary movie, but even some things were too much for a little one. “That the bad dinosaur?” Clara asked about the Indominus Rex.

“It’s not a very nice dinosaur pumpkin.” You were worried this would be too scary a dinosaur, but she was distracted as her eyes lit up over the baby dinosaur petting zoo and lit up even further when the film took everyone to the Tyrannosaurus enclosure. “Look, it’s Rexy.” But there was not enough of her favourite dinosaur to see.

You all watched the Indominus break through its habitat and started eating people, Clara felt it needed telling off.

“Bad dinosaur.” It was so funny and cute the both of you couldn’t help but laugh at your daughter.

The display of herbivore carnage lay ahead so you gave Dieter the toddler distraction signal and he bent down to be eye level with her, blocking the TV, protecting her from any potential sadness.

“Do you think a T-Rex would like spaghetti and meatballs?”

“No.”

“No? If I gave Rexy a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, would she eat it?”

“She’d eat you!”

“She would?” she giggled in response, “Well, that’s rude of her.”

The flying dinosaur scene was going to be a potential source of sadness, so another toddler distraction was in order and Dieter went right ahead with it.

“Do you think dinosaurs like ice cream?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would long necks like ice cream?”

“They like tree stars!”

“Oh, so they would like tree star flavoured ice cream.” Clara thought her daddy was being very silly and giggled accordingly.

Once all the human aspects were taken out of the equation, Jurassic World ended up being quite an enjoyable film. And you both didn’t have to voice the various plot holes which displayed a tremendous amount of human stupidity. Now it was the final battle between Indominus Rex and good old Rexy. It looked like the poor girl was going to lose and Clara was ready to bury her face into your side in concern. But suddenly, Blue came to her rescue, they displayed a surprising amount of teamwork and the Indominus was finally dispatched by the Mosasaurus. T-Rex and Velociraptor, usually foes, came together to fight a common enemy, simply nodded to each other that their paths may cross not this day, but another time.

As Rexy step onto the platform overlooking her kingdom, she gave a triumphant roar making her rule noted and marking the end of the movie. Clara roared in response.

She spent the rest of the evening reenacting the final dinosaur fight with her dad and her various soft toys. Dieter was roped into playing the part of Rexy while she was Blue and the director.

“Rahr?”

“No, Rahr!”

“Rahr! Is that right?”

“Yeah!”

He popped the toddler onto his shoulders, “Come on Blue, let’s get that bad dinosaur!”

“Rexy don’t talk,” she corrected.

“Sorry: Rahr!”

Mr. Lobster played an appropriate Mosasaurus and after defeating the bad dinosaur, tried to chomp your leg while you were making dinner. It took a while for Clara to shake off the part of her role while her dad, a seasoned professional, could go back to be adorable old Dieter.

“Oh no, our daughter has turned into a dinosaur.”

Dieter towered behind her, “Well, I guess you don’t want dinner.”

“No,” she looked up at him and seemed so upset, “I want besketti!”

“You can most certainly have besketti little missy!” He picked her up in a cuddle and put her in her chair. You all ate with a dinosaur appetite, thankfully without the mess they would usually leave. Dieter washed up while you gave Clara a bath. She peeked her little head from beneath the bubbles and motioned her arms to snap together biting some invisible prey.

“Are you the Mosasaurus?”

“Yeah, I’m the Momosaur!” she exclaimed. “I eat bad dinosaurs!”

It was at this point that Dieter came in with her pyjamas. “Am I a bad dinosaur?” he asked.

“No, you’re daddy!”

As you dried her off and put her in pyjamas, not dinosaur themed, she was starting to droop in exhaustion. You tucked her into bed and gave her a little kiss on the nose.

“I love boo!”

“Love boo!”

You stood by the door as it was Dieter’s turn to say goodnight.

“I guess after all those dinosaurs, you want a dinosaur song.”

She shook her head, “No.”

“No?”

“I want my song.”

“Your song?” he gave a silly dramatic sigh, “Okay.”

She cooed in excitement as her father got his hands to dance tickles over her while he sang.

“Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh. Chubby, little, stubby all stuffed with fluff” he chuckled her tummy like she was stuffed with fluff,“he’s Winnie the Pooh,” he booped her nose, “Winnie the Pooh. Willy, nilly, silly old bear.”

“Daddy.”

“Yes cupcake?”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed her forehead as she fell into a peaceful sleep and quietly shut the door and moved into your waiting arms.

“Do I need to say I told you so?”

“Okay, I’m a pretty good dad.”

“Pretty good? I’d say you’re the best, most amazing, most handsome dad ever.”

“Well, I can’t do it without the best, most amazing, most beautiful mama ever.”

“Your hand is on my butt again.”

“Sorry.”

“It can stay there.”

“So can we…?” he asked, and you nodded, “Oh, I’m going to show you how sexy a mama you are!”

Films referenced: Jurassic Park (1993), Jurassic Park 3 (2001), Jurassic World (2015), The Land Before Time (1988), The Land Before Time 2 (1994)

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl

[lipglossanon]

okay i got rid of the prologue- you’re on the couch texting your friend who had taken you home when school let out early and she was texting you about how hot your dad is when Leon comes in and starts reading over your shoulder before tapping you and you squeal from being startled and close your phone when you get up to go around the couch and kiss him and ask him how his day was,,,,, she was also supposed to say when Leon confronted her about her friend that she turned her down for a sleepover because she wanted to see more of Leon and that’s what made him happy and as for it getting darker 👀 this is all the shit i got rid of-

you made it to the retreat and Leon immediately started parading you around as his daughter and how upset he was your mother left you two when your friend comes over and Leon pushes you out of the way and thanks her for taking you home and turns back to you and tells you to go back to the cabin so you do and start texting your friend when she says she has to go because they’re supposed to go on a hike (that Leon opted you two out of) so when he come back in and yore giggling and shut your phone he takes it from you now,,,,, time skip to the bathroom cause daddy leon was paranoid for a reason 🫢 this happened between him spanking and fucking you so you’re ass is bloody and your crying when a knock on the door startles him, he takes a washcloth and gags you while getting his belt out of his luggage and binding your thighs together and using a towel torn in half to bind your wrists and ankles before leaving you on the floor bleeding and that’s when you hear someone laughing and Leon comes back into the bedroom with a second pair of footsteps and you listen to him get flirty and eventually the bed squeaks making you groan and wonder about what’s happening trying not to assume Leon’s fucking one of your teachers but that’s exactly it, pussy clenching around nothing as you listen to Leon degrade her and smack her around while she calls him daddy and you can’t help but get upset that he’s fucking someone else and you start crying and drowning everything out when the door opens and he throws a condom away (not spent) and he kneels beside you and grabs you by the hair forcing you to look at him saying “you enjoy the show sweetie?” while wiping away your tears he’s glad he relocked the door when you hear jingling and he gets up shutting the bathroom door again and taking care of whatever with your teacher when he finally comes back he squats in front of you and tells you it was your friends mom he fucked to your horror and he takes the makeshift gag out of your mouth and your start apologizing and getting upset that he’d fuck someone else and you get quite bratty when he decides to take matters into his own hands and gets you on your back (still bound) and pulls his dick out and starts fucking himself with your squished together thighs telling you how special you are and that you really think she made him cum? you really think she’s anything like you? while just being condescending as fuck when you tell him he can fuck off he laughs for a good minute wiping precum off his dick before sticking the washcloth in you some causing discomfort when he’s done he said “apparently you need to know your place” and the agonizing stretch of him sliding in you after taking away most of the lubrication your body offered was painful but he didn’t stop when you begged and screamed in fact he pulled out and shoved the washcloth further taking away more of your body trying to ease him in leaving it in he flips you over and puts you bound and bent in half over the side of bathtub before removing the washcloth and shoving it in your mouth and and shoving all of himself in you in broken thrusts while you screamed bloody murder and blood ran down your thighs from this or being spanked earlier you weren’t sure but his pace was brutal and agonizing as his dick catches on you and pulls and every time he thrusts out and when he finally cums he pulls you back down to the floor and flips you over unbinding you and you start fighting him off making him slam you face first back into the tile - and that’s where the other ask starts 🤭

- 💀

(i got my note privileges back today lmao i was unsure if dark stepdaddy leon would fuck your friends mom because it isn’t you but i feel like he would under specific circumstances ya know? also i was gonna add him fucking her with a hairbrush handle because she’s begging for him to fuck her and he makes her get off on an object before him but i wasn’t sure where to add it so there’s also that cut piece of content i’ve also been thinking of sweet stepdad leon and how much of DILF he is and how flustered he gets when reader compliments him 🤭 also him letting Chris use you while he jacks off and watches- those two doting on you would make you, rightfully, a fucking puddle,,,, just mush)

💀 anon I am shook 😵‍💫

Like I have a love/hate relationship with cucking so I feel like this would fall under that 🤭

I’m so torn on him fucking someone else but I could see him being so mean and to “teach you a lesson” so he ends up doing that 😩

And flustered sweet stepdad is such a mood 🥰

Ahhhh! DILF Leon and Chris being so sweet (and a little condescending) to you, taking turns making you cum, watching the other fuck you until you’re just a drooling mess and then sliding in right after 🥴 🥴

[antisatiric]

CLEMENS FAMILY ; TIMELINE

this is technically the sort of post that should go on my multi because most of the clemens family are over there, but it's related to twain so you guys get to see it! this is my rough timeline of important events and affiliations in twain's pre-running away backstory and the current lives of him and his siblings.

content warning for religious cults, child abuse, and mentions of attempted suicide.

001. seven children are born to john and jane clemens over the span of roughly 10 years. in order, they're named orion, henry, benjamin, pleasant, pamela, samuel, and margaret.

002. over the course of their childhoods, each of the siblings manifests their own unique ability, though some of these abilities (such as pleasant's) remain mostly latent. john clemens, a local religious leader with a violent private life, quickly heralds his children as being "chosen by god" and uses them as proof that he is a divine messenger of god's will.

003. samuel neglects to manifest an ability before the age of five, leading his father and the steadily growing catholic-based cult to treat him as a pariah, reacting more harshly to his mistakes and subjecting him to various forms of abuse. john raises him to believe that he is a carrier of misfortune and a bad omen to whoever he comes into contact with.

004. the church of the blessed children slowly gains popularity in the american south, amassing members in the tens of thousands by the time samuel is 13. this is partly due to a latent ability of john's own that remains undiscovered to convince the people who hear his voice that he speaks the truth, effective on everyone but his own children.

005. on a particularly bad night, john attempts to drown samuel in the bathtub of their home while his oldest son orion watches in shock. after samuel goes unconscious, orion knocks john out and saves his brother, but doesn't stick around to claim the credit for his action.

006. two days later, samuel steals his father's shotgun and flees home. nobody searches for him.

007. a week after samuel's disappearance, john clemens puts his wife in a coma. in retaliation, his oldest daughter pleasant kills him with his own revolver.

008. the church of the blessed children kill pleasant clemens in retaliation for the death of their divine messenger. this event causes them to restructure their beliefs, and they quickly determine that the 'gifted' children were sent by the devil to lead them astray, while samuel was the only pure child. over time, he comes to be seen as a saint and a martyr.

009. the remaining five clemens siblings have a public clash with the local members of the church of the blessed children that results in the burning of the clemens family house and causes the siblings to scatter.

010. down the mississippi river, samuel encounters the being known as no. 44 after a successful suicide attempt. having changed his mind about dying, he makes a deal with 44 for the sake of survival and inherits an ability alongside this. he recieves the gift of his cat, whipped cream, whose life becomes tied to his.

011. on the same day, pleasant's latent ability activates fully for the first time, reviving her on the steep condition that her soul now exists outside of her body inside her father's revolver. she, too, flees from home.

012. samuel clemens begins calling himself "mark twain" after a mishap with his ability causes the permanent relocation from fiction to reality of huckleberry finn and tom sawyer.

013. the clemens siblings each end up in their own places. orion backpacks the country in search of twain. henry engages in over-the-top vigilante justice against members of the still-growing church of the blessed children. benjamin travels to las vegas where he joins a crime family. pleasant links up with a gang of homeless young adults in chicago. pamela joins an underground organization of ability users. twain joins the organization that rivals hers unknowingly. margaret travels to las vegas to use her ability to win money gambling.

[stromuprisahat]

In a universe where Darklina ends up together and would have children and by some miracle Baghra would be alive (because yes, in my perfect universe, this woman dies, because she fucking deserves it, and Aleks finds peace with Alina and the family they will found, but briefly) what relationship do you think Baghra would have with his grandchildren ? And yet, do you even think that Alina and Aleks will allow Baghra to associate with their children ?

As I've mentioned recently, book!Aleksander is far from parent material, but unlike his mother he'd be careful NOT to bring a child into his world. Should he father one anyway, especially with Alina, he'd be inclined to compete for her attention, perhaps even resent said offspring for stealing it from him.

Should Baghra be alive, I'm not sure he'd be aware enough to keep her away from the child. Although he disagrees with her, he doesn't have the heart to get rid of that toxic bitch, or even just ban her from damaging others. She's still "teaching" during Shadow and Bone, for fuck's sake!

Book Alina doesn't fare better. She has a blind spot regarding female authorities. Her first great failure is blindly obeying Baghra after all. And later books have her eating out of palm of Baghra's hand.

As for the show, there's a shift in Aleksander's loyalty. He seems less dependent on his mother, especially once Alina's discovered. Hell, he even openly threatens Baghra! Should he have his wife AND child, he wouldn't let Baghra anywhere near them. I think he'd be willing to listen to Alina, were she interested in reconciliation, but he'd watch like a hawk, ready to step in the moment Baghra as much as breathes wrong.

Alina... well, I might be thinking fanon!Alina, since she's been losing consistency for over half of the show... but given her disconnection from her own heritage, she might want her children to have at least one grandparent. She's also more active to a point of rashness, so I can see her going behind Aleksander's back, should he not agree immediately.

Baghra is a manipulative bitch and I don't think either of her would be willing to change. In books, she doesn't care for anyone or anything, although I can picture her stealing the baby to make herself a new perfect companion, since the previous one turned out too wilful.

In show... well, her compassion, when her (sort of) daughter-in-law's murdered speaks for itself. And second season made her seem hellbent on destoying everything that is Morozova. I can see this one cooing at Darklina babies, then drowning them in a bathtub.

[katsushika-division]

“I spoke fire, laughed smoke, and madness spilled forth from my inspiration.”

Timeline

Age 0:

Is born to Shuichi Himura and Rikka Sonoi  

Rikka abandons her with Shinichi 

Is raised primarily by her older half-brother, Rintaro

Age 4:

Shuichi in a drunken stupor sets the house on fire in the middle of the night

Shuichi quickly burns to death  

Rintaro awakens to the house on fire and tries to escape with Akari but is not able to 

Rintaro and Akari are barely saved from burning to death with Rintaro taking the brunt of the flames

Due to the amount of damage, he suffered Rintaro goes into a coma

Akari is put in the foster care system separating her from Rintaro

Age 5:

Her extreme intelligence is noticed with many wanting to foster her because of it 

Is abused by multiple foster families for constantly rebelling and not filling their picture-perfect idea of a daughter 

Age 7:

Becomes tired of being used for her intelligence 

Erases every bit of data on her intelligence 

Begins to hide her genius 

Age 8: 

Is put in the care of Kagami Saionji, a religious extremist 

Kagami severely abuses Akari under the assumption that she is possessed by the devil

One day she drags Akari into the bathroom and attempts to drown her in the bathtub 

Akari manages to survive 

Begins to plan Kagami’s demise 

Sets the house on fire with Kagami trapped inside. 

Age 10:

Is placed in an orphanage run by Gencho Hosen in Ikebukuro

Meets the Yamada Brothers 

Meets Matsuri Hinata and befriends her, their relationship soon becoming one of like sisters 

Akari for once in her life feels happy 

Age 12: 

Akari and Matsuri are kidnapped by human traffickers

Matsuri is violently murdered and dismembered in front of her

Akari snaps and escapes from her restraints

With what she is able to scrounge around, builds a bomb and sets it off

It completely consumes the traffickers’ base burning and killing everyone inside, from the traffickers to the other victims.

Learns that Gencho sold her and Matsuri out 

Murders Gencho as revenge, leaving his corpse hanging in the middle of a street in Ikebukuro 

Akari begins to hate humanity and swears to █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █

Age 13: 

Learns that the infamous “High-Rise Bomber” is her older brother Rintaro

Instead of feeling dread, Akari is inspired by his actions 

Begins to head out as the criminal “Cinder” quickly becoming infamous for her cruelty and love of fire

Makes plans to break Rintaro out of prison 

Meets Sumire Shinomiya and the other members of Scorpion Den, befriending  them 

Age 14:

Meets and befriends Ryōhei Nakashima

Meets Nagisa Sano and both leave a terrible first impression on each other

This leads to the two of them becoming enemies and eventually frenemies later on

Age 15:

Present.

Is ready to break Rintaro out of prison, however, learns of the deal he made with Chuohku

Scraps her plan 

Reunites with Rintaro

Meets Akihisa Mashiro and Touya Kisaragi 

Moves in with them 

Begins working on █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █

Secretly joins the Katsushika Division rap battle team, Death Row Block, alongside Akihisa Mashiro, Touya Kisaragi, and Rintaro Himura

Schedule

12:00 a.m. - 4:00 a.m.: Out as Cinder 

4:00 a.m. - 7:00 a.m.: Asleep

7:00 a.m. - 7:30 a.m.: Awakens and gets ready for the day

7:30 a.m. - 8:00 a.m.: Eats breakfast with everyone 

8:00 a.m. - 8:30 a.m.: Is dropped off at school by Rintaro 

8:30 a.m. - 9:00 a.m.: Hangs out with Ryōhei before class

9:00 a.m. - 12:00 p.m.: Class

12:00 p.m. - 1:00 p.m.: Lunch 

1:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m.: Class

3:00 p.m. - 3:30 p.m.: Is picked up by Rintaro

3:30 p.m. - 4:00 p.m.: Returns home

4:00 p.m. - 6:00 p.m.: Works on █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █

6:00 p.m.  - 7:00 p.m.: Dinner with everyone 

7:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.: Spends time with everyone 

9:00 p.m - 10:00 p.m: Gets ready 

11:00 p.m. - 12:00 a.m.: Out as Cinder

Character Hashtags

Regular Hashtags

#Leave Me Alone

#Hidden Devil 

#Anti Social

Trauma Hashtags

#I Want My Big Brother!

#I’ll Show You Evil

#I’m Sorry For Not Saving You

Other Info

Hobby: Metalworking 

Weakness: Misanthrope

Trauma: “Humanity never gave a damn about me.”

Twitter: @HellGirl666

Drinks: No

Smokes: No

Special Skill: “I can make anything out of scrap parts.”

Intro Quote: “What do you want? I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Trauma Quote: “Humanity thought I was a monster and tried their damn hardest to beat me down. I’ll show them why that was a bad idea.” 

[beardedmrbean]

WESTMINSTER, Calif. — A California woman was charged with murder on Tuesday in the drowning death of her disabled 9-year-old daughter, four days after her arrest, prosecutors said.

According to Orange County District Attorney’s Office spokesperson Kimberly Edds, Khadiyjah Aliyyah Pendergraph, 32, of Westminster, was charged after police found her daughter’s body decomposing in the bathtub at their home, The Orange County Register reported.

The child was wheelchair-bound and unable to speak, Edds said.

The girl’s father, who is divorced from Pendergraph, called police earlier Friday to request a welfare check after receiving “concerning messages from his ex-wife regarding their daughter,” KTLA-TV reported.

The man had come to the Westminster residence where his ex-wife lived to pick up his daughter, but the apartment was locked and no one answered the door, according to the television station.

Westminster police Sgt. Edward Esqueda said that officers responding to the scene forced their way inside and found the girl alone with “obvious signs of trauma,” KABC-TV reported.

Officers said that Pendergraph allegedly left the child in the bathtub for several days. Officers said she claimed to attempt suicide “on more than one occasion” after her daughter’s death, according to the television station.

Woman accused of killing 9-year-old daughter

Pendergraph was identified as a person of interest after police entered the residence, the Los Angeles Times reported. She was located and arrested in a grocery store parking lot in Aliso Viejo by Westminster police detectives, according to a news release from the Orange County District Attorney’s Office.

“While families across America sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with their loved ones, this little disabled girl’s lifeless body was left to rot in a bathtub after being drowned by her own mother,” Orange County District Attorney Todd Spitzer said in a statement. “Words simply do not exist to express the utter heartbreak knowing this little girl could not even scream for help as her mother pushed her underwater and cut her life so tragically and unnecessarily short.”

If convicted of the charges, Pendergraph faces a maximum sentence of 25 years to life in prison, according to a news release from the district attorney’s office.

[lifewithchronicpain]

LOS ANGELES — In the Burbank chapel, as attendees braced to hear the names of the dead, Pastor Ryan Chaddick welcomed the sparse crowd with familiarity.

“I’m here tonight, and we’re doing this,” said Chaddick, dressed simply in black, “because for some reason in 2023 we have to say to the world that killing disabled people is wrong.”

It seemed ridiculous, he said, to even have to announce that.

“But as long as disabled people are killed for being disabled,” he said, “I will rage against the night and we will light candles as protest and we will cuss and we will pray.”

Roughly a dozen people had trickled into the Burbank church on that frigid evening at the beginning of March to mark the Disability Day of Mourning. To hear the names of people killed by parents and other relatives or caregivers. To listen to poems, songs, and readings about the outrage of people with disabilities losing their lives to those who were supposed to safeguard them.

:readmore:

For the Lutheran pastor, like many others in the chapel, the horror of those killings hits home. He has autism, diagnosed in adulthood. He is also the father of children with autism, one of whose diagnosis set in motion his own. And his own path to understanding his daughters and himself led him to rethinking things in his life and his church.

“All of us — um, pretty sure, because I know you, or I’ve talked to you — everyone here is disabled or crazy,” Chaddick, 38, told the attendees with a slight smile and a nod before the readings began. “Welcome.”

In the United States, people with disabilities are nearly four times as likely to be a victim of a violent crime as those without disabilities, according to a Bureau of Justice Statistics analysis. And when they are victimized, people with disabilities are twice as likely as other people to suffer violence at the hands of a family member — including their parents.

More than a decade ago, Zoe Gross helped launch the annual, now-international event in reaction to the framing of news stories about one such killing. Gross, director of advocacy for the Autistic Self Advocacy Network, was appalled by news coverage after the killing of 22-year-old Sunnyvale resident George Hodgins, who was shot by his mother, who then shot herself.

The tone of the stories, she said, seemed sympathetic to the perpetrator — a sympathy that she found alarmingly scant for the victim himself. One article, Gross remembered, quoted a mother saying, “Every mother I know who has a child with special needs has a moment just like that.”

It was “really normalizing this very upsetting, tragic thing that happened,” she said. “Saying that urge is in all parents with disabled children — I found so disturbing.”

Later that same month, a San Diego woman drowned her 4-year-old son with autism in a bathtub. Gross, in an essay, asked anyone who had said the murder of George Hodgins was understandable, anyone who had called it a “mercy killing,” to think about whether that San Diego mother had heard them.

During the pandemic, after his older daughter underwent an assessment and was found to have autism, Chaddick and his wife began reading books about “what it’s like to be an autistic kiddo” — and found it jarringly familiar. So was a comedy special by Hannah Gadsby, describing experiences as a child before she was later diagnosed with autism as an adult.

Researchers have found that autism tends to cluster in families, although much remains unknown about its biological underpinnings. As Chaddick came to recognize himself as having autism, the pastor decided to pursue a formal diagnosis — a step that can be difficult for adults, who sometimes struggle to find specialists willing to diagnose adults at all.

Autism — a developmental disability that can affect how people think, communicate, interact and process sensory information — defies simple generalizations. There is no one way to have autism, but for Chaddick, it means he struggles to parse exactly what people mean when they say they are fine, he said.

He wears ear buds to the grocery store to cut down on the overwhelming noise. About once a month, he has to go to the post office to collect the mail that accumulated, he said, because he forgot or neglected to go down to the mailbox.

But as a kid, “I wasn’t collecting trains and putting them all in a line, so it didn’t compute,” he said.

The process of getting his diagnosis forced him to talk about the most painful and alienating moments of his life, he said. Chaddick remembers at one point saying to his doctor, “I feel like I’m trying to prove to you how disabled I am.”

“He was like, ‘Well, let me assure you, you are definitely autistic.'”

One of the gifts of being having autism, Chaddick said, is “sometimes I don’t know how to not say the thing.”

“Not having the filter that other people do,” he said. “Sitting in spaces with people that are uncomfortable.”

That includes the heaviness of Disability Day of Mourning. “It’s a hard thing to invite people to, because there’s a lot in American consciousness that says, ‘Whistle by the graveyard,'” he said. “We’re intentionally trying to say, ‘Please don’t whistle. Please just stay here.'”

“Unless we can confront ableism,” he said, “it’s going to continue to hurt everyone.”

Inside the Burbank sanctuary, the names were read out on a recording. The faces of each of the dead appeared briefly on the screens flanking the chapel as their names were heard.

A toddler sticking out their tongue. A white-haired nonagenarian, her surgical mask pulled down to show a smile. A young woman who seemed to be posing for a selfie.

For some there was only a white rectangle, labeled “Photo Unavailable.” For others, a photo of a tombstone.

Ten minutes passed as the names were read — and those were only the ones added most recently to the list. There were too many names and too many nameless, the grim outlines of their stories drawn from news reports about people killed by family and caregivers around the world. Gross said the list, which is maintained online, is updated by a volunteer who checks news alerts.

Some articles say “the victim’s initials were this, or this was a girl of this age — that’s all we have to go on,” Gross said.

In the chapel, they were nonetheless recognized:

“Name unknown, age 5 months.”

“Name unknown, age 72.”

“Name unknown, age 6.”

Chaddick stepped forward again and invited the crowd, “as you’re able, if you’re able,” to come forward and light candles and plant them in containers filled with sand.

“None of those were mercy killings,” he said, before words seemed to fail him. “I have nothing else.”

As a singer strummed a guitar and sang “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” people began to trickle up to the front of the chapel. One by one, they lit candles and rooted them in the sand, building a tiny congregation of flames. A father walked up with his young son to light candles, then returned to the pew where they had been sitting, his arm draped around his child.

The screens that had borne the names and faces of the dead now lit up to show a person in a knit cap sitting in a car in Minnesota, reading out the words, “I am not a burden.”

“You were 9 years old. You had a life ahead of you. And then you didn’t. You were a person. Not a burden,” Emily Stoll, the former youth director at the church, read from the screens. “You were 24, or 10, or 15, or 40. All of you had lives ahead of you. And all of you were people, not burdens.”

Parenting is hard, Chaddick said, especially during a global pandemic. And like any parent, he has had challenges and frustrations along the way as the father of two girls, ages 4 and 6.

Figuring out how to teach tooth brushing was “a huge struggle” before they found a smartphone game that helped. Chaddick had to let go of wanting everyone to eat dinner together at a table, which often “doesn’t work for my family” because of their different needs, both sensory and dietary.

“But we watch shows while eating dinner together. And we laugh together. And we make messes together,” he said. “I don’t experience any of that as tragedy.”

The father who had attended the vigil with his young son was Konstantine Anthony, the mayor of Burbank. Anthony, who has autism, said he had been attending Disability Day of Mourning events for years, and “unfortunately, every year since the vigil began, names have been added to the list.”

“It’s just absolutely devastating to know that there are still people in this world that consider disabled individuals as disposable,” he said.

Outside the church after the vigil, Chaddick greeted the mayor and thanked him and his son for attending. Anthony, looking toward his son fidgeting in the cold, told the pastor, “He said the event was sad, but the church was boring.”

They laughed together.

Gross said the annual vigils have multiplied and become more accepted among a broader range of disability groups over time. At first, she said, it was seen by some as a controversial event, one biased against parents.

“Which I always found a bit confusing,” she said, “because I don’t take these parents that murdered their children, as representative of all parents with disabled children.”

The pandemic has also underscored the ways in which people with disabilities are devalued, she said. Disability rights groups were outraged last year when the head of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said it was “encouraging news” that the majority of COVID-19 deaths among vaccinated people were occurring among people with four or more comorbidities — those who were “unwell to begin with.” The CDC director later apologized, but Gross said the incident underscored a set of beliefs that “really has permeated all levels of society.”

“A lot of what we’re doing with Day of Mourning is trying to push back against an attitude that people have unconsciously,” she said, which makes it harder to fight.

As Chaddick came to understand his daughters and himself having autism, he also became more invested in the cause of disability justice. “Right now, in the church here it’s Lent,” he said, the period when Christians reflect and prepare for Easter. “The last couple of years have been like a Lent for me.”

He has rethought the wording of worship songs that use disability as a metaphor for sin, he said — even the famous line, “Was blind but now I see.” His church limits the volume of its music so that the chapel is not overstimulating for people sensitive to noise. A church reading group is now digesting “My Body is Not a Prayer Request,” a book about ableism in churches.

His Burbank church makes closed captioning available for services offered online, he said. He has gotten fidget spinners for children and adults who find them helpful, and his church is working on a grant application for an American Sign Language interpreter and to put together bags loaded with more accessibility tools for anyone who comes to worship.

“I’m now more aware,” he said. “It’s painful to see that I did not perceive these things before. But once you have, you can’t stop.”

[wikiangela]

I'm free in salt water (embrace the deep end, leave everything)

tw suicide mention/attempt, 5x12 'Boston', angst

I wrote this over a year ago, a couple of days after "Boston" aired, while sitting in my creative writing class and I feel like I could write it better now but I didn't wanna mess with it haha Also, a huge thank you to @thebravebitch, you said it's good and it gave me enough validation and motivation to finally post it lmao 😂❤️

words: 612

[read on Ao3]

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Tears were falling down her face as she sat on the beach, blankly looking at the ocean, waves crashing against the sand. She observed the angry water, thinking back to that day, to that still bathtub water, under which her daughter almost drowned. All because she couldn’t be trusted to care for a baby. It was all her fault. 

The mere reminder of that only assured her that the decision, which she’d already made when she dropped Jee-Yun off at the firehouse, was the right one.

Sobbing, Maddie got up and, fully clothed, stepped into the ocean. Cold water was splattering against her, as she kept walking, fighting against the waves that tried to push her out. She was determined. It wasn’t her first attempt at killing herself, but it would be the first time she would be successful.

She thought about her ex-husband, and all the times he made her wish she was dead. He wasn’t around anymore, but everything he said and did to her was still haunting her. As was the moment she killed him, his blood spilling over the snow. She’d been bleeding, too, beaten up and broken. But she freed herself from him. She just didn’t know he’d still be stuck with her after so much time passed. Maybe not enough. Maybe she’d never be truly free. 

In light of what happened recently, his words echoed in her head. She was worthless, hopeless, useless… At the moment she wished he had beaten her to death, it would be much better for everyone. She wasn’t capable of being a mother. She was capable of killing someone, though. And now she almost killed her own daughter. She should be the person protecting her from harm, not inflicting it. It might have been an accident, but such accidents were not supposed to happen. What mother can just fall asleep while giving their baby a bath? A bad one, for sure. So, Maddie needed to get away. Jee wasn’t safe with her. 

Water submerged her completely, taking away her breath. Is that what her child felt when she slipped under the water in the bathtub? Of course, she was fine, the doctor said she was fine, but for those few seconds… For those few seconds she was drowning. It was only fitting that Maddie went away that way. And her kid, her sweet, beautiful Jee-Yun, would finally be safe with her dad. 

That’s why she left Jee in the firehouse. Howie would get back from a call, get her home, and take good care of her. He was a good dad, and a good paramedic, if anything were to happen again, God forbid. He was going to hate Maddie. Jee was too little to remember her, but Howie… Howie was going to hate her.

Memories of her little brother, of Howie and Jee, of her ex, flashed behind her eyes, as the waves slowly carried her back to the shore, despite her best efforts to prevent that. 

Soon, she sat in the shallow water, coughing and crying, her wet clothes clinging to her skin. Maybe she should take it as a sign. Maybe dying wasn’t what she needed to do to keep her kid safe. Maybe she should just stay away. And get help. She definitely needed help. 

It was that moment, breaking down at the beach, after another failed suicide attempt, that she decided. She was going to leave LA, and go back to Boston, to the hospital she trained at to be a nurse, somewhere familiar. If she ever wanted to see her daughter again, she needed to get help and get better. For Jee, for Howie, for herself.

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