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delanyb · 4 years ago

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Since I’ve been slacking off with the Fnaf headcanon series for quite some time now, with no good reason, have some AR skins and event character headcanons

Shamrock Freddy

Like Frostbear and Firework Freddy,he’s a Freddy made specifically for the holidays. St. Patrick day to be exact

Has a Irish ascent to go with his holiday theme

Similar to Rockstar Freddy, he desires Faz-coin to a unhealthy degree

Enjoys talking about St. Patrick day traditions and folklore.

Is pretty self-centered

Usually picks on Frostbear for no good reason

All the other animatronics who take part in the Fazbear Funtime Service either are indifferent to him like Chica or 8 Bit Baby. While others like regular Freddy and Bonnie hate him for just being a overall jerk

In some instances when the animatronics are being shipped together in trucks for customers, a Shamrock Freddy always seems to cause some sort of commotion that usually leaves everyone in mangled animatronic parts by the end

The company was actually considering removing him off from the service completely given all the problem he caused

But considering that he makes for great revenue during the St. Patrick day season, they just left him alone for the other animatronics to deal with.

Firework Freddy

Aside from Chica with her cupcake, he’s the only one who comes with a accessory.

Has lots of nicknames, but the most common ones are Firework and just Summer Freddy

All the other animatronics find his firework very cool

Springtrap however does not becuase anything that goes boom gives him flashbacks to when the springlocks snappped back in the saferoom all those years ago...

Is a expert on cooking with a barbecue

Has a lot of knowledge on sport related stuff from all over the world

Hates the cold

However he doesn’t hate Frostbear and feels bad for him becuase of Shamrock Freddy’s constant bullying

Has a lot of extras clothes and extra accessories that correspond with the traditions of the customer(s) that ordered a vist from him

For instance, he may be all decked out for 4th of July one year, and the next you’ll see a bear ready for the beach and so fourth.

Constantly switching his attire for each visit does get a little annoying, but for him, making people happy in the end makes it worth all the hassle.

VR Toy Freddy

Is a completely different entity than regular Toy Freddy

Is the textbook definition of absolute gamer chad

Playing video games takes first priority for him

Recently he’s been playing the newest instalment in the fnamh’s (Five Nights At Mr Hug’s) series

He’s quite clumsy and bumps into other animatronics or common house things likes selves on a daily basis

But on the rare chance he’s not using his headset he’s usually making absurd theorys on what’s going on with the lore in the new Vr game

His main theory is that that this new strange crate looking character escaped from dumper purgatory from the previous game in the series and placed themselves into the in universe VR game.

Shamrock Freddy question why he’s still invested in that series though. As he states, the original trilogy is the best and that it all went downhill once that weird gumball machine used paper plates as a skin suit.

Whenever He or anyone else for that matter says something along the lines of that, VR Toy Freddy always goes into essay long arguments for why he’s wrong. He’s very quick to defend his favourite franchise

Jokes that he’s The Man Behind The Slaugher unironically even when the meme has died ( *In this universe the man behind the slaughter meme exists because of the Fnaf 1 news paper clippings, along with the fact that Springtrap is a well known entity thanks to HW, and the Fazbear Funtime service.*

Chocolate Bonnie

Nicknames are Choco Bonnie, and unfortunately as immature as it, Poop Bonnie

He’s made of real actual chocolate

Once somebody’s dog took a big bite out of his bottom right stomach area that simply couldn’t be repaired. The dog took 87 bites out of him btw

That’s why every single copy of the Chocolate Bonnie model scanned in after that day has that big and distracting hole

His three button and botie are mint candy flavoured

Real Easter eggs are hidden inside his stomach cavity and are placed near his endo parts

Though he’s more appropriate for Easter time, sometime he’s advertised for the Halloween season for that trick or treat goodness

Similar to Bon-Bon and Funtime Freddy , Easter and Chocolate Bonnie are a two in one package.

Given the surprising popularity of the Funtime Service, (*in universe*) a merch store has being set up to only spread word of their brand but to bring these beloved characters in the pop culture consensus again, and Chocolate Bonnie gets a bunch of merch

Whether it be a coffee mug,a shirt, or the type of chocolate bunny you’ll see in those craft stores, Cholocate Bonnie has it all.

Easter Bonnie

Is very dramatic and has a showman like personality. (Similar to Funtime Foxy in UCN)

His Easter egg pattern on his stomach area is actually drawn with crayons and the circles are get plain circle shaped stickers you would find at the your local dollar store. Goes to show that the Fazbear Funtime Service sticks to the roots of Fazbear Entertainment, being really cheep

How Easter and Chocolate Bonnie entertain customers is that Easter Bonnie usually has a “dramatic” retelling of the Easter bunny fairytale while Chocolate Bonnie’s the food, customers can eat while enjoying the play

He’s quite athletic

The “Happy Easter” tag on the top of his ear isn’t actually a intentional design choice

Easter Bonnie just stole it from a random candy store nearby

Some confuse him as a winter themed Bonnie covered in snow due to his mainly white colour palette. Considering that Freddy Frostbear’s a thing that isn’t that much of a stretch

Can perfectly imitate any of the other animatronic’s voices. It honestly shocks animatronics like Springtrap or Foxy with how well Easter Bonnie can capture this respective accents to a tee

He prefers to hop like a actual bunny than walking normally

Loves decorating Easter eggs.

Toxic Springtrap

All that purple goo is actually just fungi infected with some of that classic remnant

Due to his frightening nature he’s only available during Halloween time

However despite his looks he’s actually quite kind at heart. Much more than regular Springtrap that’s for sure

Is actually scared of the dark

He likes playing chess

Doesn’t like the fact that he’s advertised as something to be feared

Usually hangs around with 8-Bit Baby the most and the two usually play board games all day

Although like everyone else he feels some sort of discomfort whenever he’s shocked, the pain is really minor for him compared to other animatronics

Given that he’s only desired during the month of spooks, for the rest of the year, he’s left alone at the factory where all the animatronics are constructed and duplicated in the first place

Due to this he’s got a pleta of abandonment isssues

System Error Toy Bonnie

His head, body and limbs can be detached and put back together very easily

That’s how he entertains customers in fact. He’s basically a animatronic sized construction set, similar to Mangle

Their eyes glow bright orange in darkness

Is able to phaze through physical objects

Due to some people complaining about regular Toy Bonnie’s voicebox, the team chose to implant stock computer sound effects into System Error Toy Bonnie’s voicebox rather than actual dialogue.

Knows your WiFi password

Is taller than regular Toy Bonnie

The system error phrase near his stomach area gets brighter amd brighter whenever his costume shell is damaged

Static electricity flows through him from time to time. So it recommend that whenever a customer should wear gloves and other appropriate safety equipment when interacting with the animatronic

Balloon Boy always tries to get the static electricity balloon trick to work, but it never seems to work. System Error Toy Bonnie could really care less about this ordeal though

Highscore Toy Chica

Loves playing video games

But unlike Vr Toy Freddy, Her life doesn’t focus on it 24/7

She likes playing a variety of games too. virtual games, handheld games, games on consoles, board games, etc

Is very supportive

Knows what emojis are

Considering that she’s meant to be hip with the kids, she knows a lot about current gaming and fandom culture in general

Is a pretty good speed runner when it comes to video games

Although it doesn’t happen often she can get quite serious when it comes to gaming. You can tell when she’s just playing for fun or not if her endoskeleton eyes and grey are exposed

is indifferent to the term “Gamer Girl”

Hates games where you can’t skip the cutscenes

Radioactive Foxy

A random model of Foxy accidentally found his way into a power plant and eventually got covered in radioactive goo

The higher ups working for the Fazbear Funtime service thought that it would be a shame to throw out a perfectly good plush suit and endo. So after some strange testing involving remnant they just rebranded this as a completely new skin.

Green radioactive material drips over his body all all times

His hook is twice as big as regular Foxy’s. Probably due to the combination of experimenting with both remnant and toxic radioactive goo

Has no eyebrows due to the constant radioactive energy

Thanks to Radioactive Foxy’s transparent look, this was the first time any of the customers got a real good look on the inerworkings on how a endo properly fits into a plush suit.

Is on the hunt for and wants to consume more radioactive energy

Can transform into a more liquid based form

He’s slower than regular foxy but sill runs at a moderately fast pace

One of the more aggressive animatronics in the service alongside the likes of regular Springtrap and Frostbear

8-Bit Baby

Similar to Highscore Toy Chica, she’s meant to be marketed to the gaming crowd.

Specifically those who enjoy old school videogames

Can despense real cupcakes for eating pleasure

Has a extra sprinkler perfect for ice cream decorating

Her fan operates correctly and henceforth can be used for cooling or drying needs

Her microphone is preprogrammed with chiptune styled music

Has become many people’s favourite animatronic and has been in high demand ever since they were first brought to the service due to their uniqueness

Moves at a snail’s pace

Loves playing board games with Toxic Springtrap.

Regualr Circus Baby finds her 8 bit version adorable

#finally it's done #also pls don’t kill me for including Firework Freddy #fnaf #fnaf ar #fnaf ar special delivery #fnaf headcanons #shamrock freddy #firework freddy #vr toy freddy #chocolate bonnie #easter bonnie #toxic springtrap #system error toy bonnie #highscore toy chica #radioactive foxy #8 bit baby #my art uwu #long post

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purpleswans1 · 5 years ago

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The Attack on Mount Lady

A contribution to my Villain!Izuku AU using the prompt “Consequences.” In regards to the content... I’m just going to say I am so, so sorry guys.

Read also on FF and AO3

“Are you excited, Uraraka?” Izuku asked.

Uraraka bit her lip. “Somewhat, but… Are you sure we should be doing this?”

Izuku frowned. “What do you mean? Mount Lady has proven time and again that she doesn’t fit the criteria of a true hero. She’s the reason your father died and your family was stuck with a load of debt. Isn’t it right that we take her down and expose her for the fraud that she is?”

“Technically, the hero commision were the ones who covered the whole thing up.”

“But Mount Lady still holds most of the blame. And every time we take down a pro hero, especially if we expose their wrongdoing, the commision loses some of its power.”

Uraraka sighed. “I get that, but I just can’t shake this feeling that things won’t go our way.”

“That’s why I have so many contingency plans in place.” Izuku touched her arm. “If you really don’t want to, we can postpone the attack for a later date…”

Uraraka shook her head. “No, this is the best day for us to do this. It’s probably just nerves.”

“Okay then. Let’s go.”

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

Mount Lady isn’t a fan of patrols.

She knows why she has to do them.Make your presence known, get a chance to interact with citizens, defer thoughts of crime, etc. etc. Didn’t change the fact that they were so boring. She could be doing a lot more interesting stuff such as interviews, filming commercials, and flirting with commision representatives. Those were also important for her image.

But no, she had to go out and walk the streets, letting random perverts take her picture just to prove she was doing her job. Ah well, maybe she’ll be able to get some free food from a sympathetic food stand owner. It was almost lunchtime after all.

She noticed a food truck owner that was a big fan of hers and headed his way. Before she could could flag him down, someone bumped into her.

Mount Lady frowned. "You should watch where you're going."

"Oh, sorry about that," the stranger said. "I've been looking for you, Yu Takeyama."

Why is he using my civilian name? "You know you can make an appointment with my agency, right?"

The stranger smirked. "Oh, this isn't something you want to be on the record."

He raised his head, giving Mount Lady a clear view of his face. Her heart froze.

That's the guy who almost killed Endeavour!

Mount Lady leaned back into a fighting position. "What do you want, villain?"

Analyst -- that’s his name -- laughed. “Why, we’re here to judge you, of course!”

“We?” Mount Lady asked.

The civilians ran away, having figured out that a villain fight was about to break out. There were only five people that didn’t try to escape. They walked in the opposite direction of the others, surrounding Mount Lady and supporting Analyst. She recognized four of them from the Quirk Revolutionaries’ debut. The fifth was wearing a white mask covering half his face, but he was somewhat familiar.

Analyst unzipped his hoodie and pulled out a… net? “Our current society is unwilling and unable to prosecute you for your crimes, so it is up to the Quirk Revolutionaries to dispense justice!”

Mount Lady grit her teeth. “I have no idea what crimes you’re talking about. The only criminals here are you!” She began to grow, reaching out to attack the villain in front of her.

In a flash, a rope was wrapped around her neck, strangling her.

“Good job, Spinner, Elemental.” Analyst said.

Their plan is just to strangle me? Mound Lady thought. Well, I’ll just throw them off when I get big.

She continued to grow, but the rope continued to bite into her neck. She fell on her back, trying to give herself some slack. She looked out of the corner of her eye and realized the rope was attached to a manhole cover. She’d be able to pull it out easily enough if she was at full size, but in order to get that big she’d have to strangle herself.

Maybe I can slip out if I go back to normal size. She started to shrink again.

Spinner grabbed the rope and pulled it taught. “You’re not slipping away that easily.”

Analyst walked up beside her, drabing the net over her legs as he went. “Your weaknesses are so obvious, it’s a wonder you were able to pass a certified Hero Studies Program. Your strength is proportional to your size, so as long as you can’t grow you’re essentially powerless. You can’t fight in enclosed areas, but for our purposes it’s easy to simply make it so you’ll hurt yourself if you try to grow.”

Mount Lady tried to grow again, but stopped immediately when the rope around her neck tightened uncomfortably. She thrashed around to try and get out, but only succeeded in getting tangled up in the net.

Finally, she stopped struggling and simply glared at the villains, recognizing defeat. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Your plan worked; you’ve got me.”

Analyst pulled out a gun. “Comet?”

The girl Mount Lady recognized as Comet stepped forward. She threw back her hood, revealing a young, round face framed by a bob cut.

“Do you recognize her?” Analyst asked Mount Lady.

“...Should I?” Mount Lady gave the girl a closer look, but still couldn’t remember anything.

Analyst’s gun shook with rage. “You really don’t remember? Of course not, you don’t even realize how much harm you caused....”

“Deku.” Comet placed her hand on top of Analyst’s, taking hold of the gun. “It’s okay.”

“But you shouldn’t have…”

Comet shook her head. “You said you’d let me choose her punishment, right? Let me handle this.”

Analyst stared at Comet for a moment, but eventually relinquished the gun to her.

Comet turned to look at Mount Lady again. “It would have been.. almost a year and a half now. You were in the middle of a villain fight. I think it was against Trapezius Head Gear? You were so focused on the fight, you accidentally crashed into a construction site.”

Mount Lady frowned. She could vaguely remember that, but didn’t remember anything special about the incident.

“My father and five of his employees were killed by a falling I-beam.”

Mount Lady sucked in her breath. “That… That was because of me?”

“Yes.” Comet walked up until she was standing on Mount Lady’s right side, staring down at her. “I would have understood it if that was all that happened -- After all, it was the villain’s fault for attacking in the first place. But when we tried to get money for dad’s and the employee’s life insurance, the hero commision covered everything up. They claimed the accident happened because my father didn’t follow safety protocols. My family’s company was liable for the accident, and had to pay for both my father’s funeral and reparations to the dead employee’s families”

Mount Lady shook her head. “I swear, I didn’t know anything about that! The hero commision took care of everything I had nothing to do with it!”

“I believe you.” Comet’s eyes were kind. “Honestly, I don’t think I really hate you. This was mostly Analyst’s idea, but I can see the wisdom in it. What I really hate is the hero commision, but they’re too big to attack directly. This is the only way to cause real change.”

Comet kneeled down and pushed Mount Lady on her side. “I’m going to shoot you directly in your spinal cord. It shouldn’t be lethal, but you’ll be paralized from the waist down. You’ll never be able to work as a hero again.

Tears fell from Mount Lady’s eyes, leaving tracks along the side of her nose and to her ear. She didn’t make a sound though. If what she’s saying is true, maybe this is what I deserve…

“Get away from her, you villains!”

Analyst turned to the new intruders. “It’s Fatgum. He got here faster than I expected.”

Dabi frowned. “Hey, who are those two with him?”

Indeed, Fatgum was running through the street in their direction, flanked by two other heroes. They weren’t as recognizable as the pro, and from their ages were likely still in high school.

Analyst swore. “That’s Suneater. I only know the basics of his abilities. The other one…”

Elemental’s breath caught. “Kirishima.”

Analyst ran over to Comet’s side. “We need to finish up quickly. Dabi, focus on Fatgum. Keep him away from us. Spinner, Toga, you get Suneater. Elemental…” He looked at the final member, worried.

Elemental nodded. “I’ll handle Kirishima. I know his style.”

Analyst didn’t look happy. “Stick to one side. I don’t want to expose you to early.”

Elemental nodded and joined his team members in attacking the heroes.

Analyst grabbed Comet’s shoulder. “Hurry up. We need to go.”

“R-right.” Coment’s body, fro her arms to her knees, was shaking. “Mind holding her for me? I need both hands to shoot straight.”

Analyst kneeled down next to her, replacing her hands in holding Mount Lady on her side.

Comet took a deep breath. And another. And another. She had the gun in two hands and it was pressed up against the hero’s back, but she didn’t pull the trigger. At least, not yet.

“Please, Uraraka.” Analyst whispered. “I’m not sure how much longer everyone else will be able to hold out.”

Comet nodded. “You’re right. Just…”

An octopus tentacle shot out and knocked both of them back. Analyst quickly recovered and pulled out a knife. “Dammit, Suneater!”

Suneater was holding both Toga and Spinner down with tentacles covered in clam shells bursting from his left hand. The tentacles in his right hand shot out to attack Analyst and Comet again, but were disintegrated by red flames.

Elemental ran to support his allies, followed closely by Kirishima. Suneater backed up slightly, nursing his burt tentacles. Kirishima reached out, about to grab Elemental’s hoodie.

“Shit!” Analyst grabbed the gun beside him and skillfully shot Kirishima.

The bullet didn’t do any damage. Kirishima had instinctively hardened his hand. It did distract him though, and gave Elemental a chance to knock Suneater off his allies.

“He’s got a gun!” Kirishima shouted.

Analyst started to back away. He almost tripped after a few steps. His leg had gotten tangled up in the net. He leaned down and quickly cut the rope with his knife.

The distraction was just enough for Kirishima. “You’re going down!”

A few steps later, his leg was encased in ice, a very familiar cold holding him in place.

“Fire… and ice?” Kirishima breathed.

Analyst looked up. “Dammit, I told you to stick to one side!”

Elemental finched, but shot a red flame at Suneater again.

A new voice came from the opposite side of the street. “We got here just in time!”

Analyst turned around. The Dragoon Hero, Ryuku, was running into the fray. She was followed by her own interns, Nejire-chan and Asui.

With this, we’re basically outnumbered, Analyst realized.

Dabi backed up into Analyst. “What’s the plan, bossman?”

“We need to retreat,” Analyst said.

Dabi looked side to side. “I doubt the exit plan you came up with will work in this scenario.”

Analyst bit his lip. He’s right.

“Deku… my leg is stuck!” Comet shouted.

Analyst turned to her. The net was tangled up in her left leg, caught in the straps of her air thrusters.

He kneeled down. “I’ll cut you out!”

“No time!” Dabi summoned his blue flame.

“You’ll burn her along with the net!” Analyst shouted.

Ryuku, now in dragon form, jumped to attack them. Dabi was able to push her back with his flame, but only barely.

Comet breathed heavily. “I’ve got an idea. All of you need to get together and let me touch you.”

Analyst frowned. “What are you…”

“Guys! Huddle up!” Dabi shouted.

Toga, Spinner, and Elemental ran to the others. One by one, Comet touched each of her teammates.

Suneater took a moment to breath. Nejire-chan ran up to him.

“The Quirk Revolutionaries… The leader is Analyst.” Nejire-chan said.

Suneater nodded. “He’s the one Mirio is interested in.”

Comet waited to touch Analyst last. “Everybody, grab onto Deku. Elemental, Dabi, you two should be able to navigate with your fire.” She looked Analyst straight in the eye. “It’ll be just like in practice, but without the weighted line.”

Analyst’s head spun from all the information he was trying to process. “Right… that’ll work… And you’ll be following with your jets?”

Comet smiled sadly. “There isn’t enough time to get me untangled.”

Wait, then how will she… “No! There’s got to be another way! Just give me a second to think of something…”

“Goodby, Deku.”

Just before Comet threw him into the air, Izuku felt the other members of the team grab him. Dabi and Shoto grabbed an elbow each, Spinner clung to his shoulder, and Toga wrapped her arms around his waist. They shot up into the sky together, weightless.

“No! Send us back down! I have to save her!” Izuku shouted.

“Idiot! You said we needed to retreat!” Dabi shouted.

“We can’t leave her!”

“Please… Izukun…” Toga’s weightless tears wet the back of Izuku’s neck. “Bestie wouldn’t want this.”

The tears were what finally snapped Izuku to his senses. “Toga… you guys… I’m so…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Shoto said. “You did everything you could.”

“Uraraka sacrificed herself to save us.” Spinner reminded him. “It was her choice.”

They all floated in silence after that. They continued to ascend, aiming for the clouds above. Whenever air resistance caused them to slow down, Shoto and Dabi would shoot off fire blasts to propel everyone up again.

Once they broke through the clouds and reached an altitude where they struggled to breath, Dabi changed their direction to start looking for a landing area for whenever Uraraka released them from her quirk.

Izuku was suddenly struck with a thought. “Um… guys? How are we going to explain this to the kids?”

Nobody provided an answer. In the end, it would be Izuku who’d sit Eri and Kota down and tearfully explain why Big Sis Uraraka wasn’t coming home.

#villain month 2019 #mha villain au #villain izuku #villain uraraka #izuku x uraraka #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #violence tw #i'm sorry guys #myfanfic

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easkyrah · 7 years ago

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What’s your opinion on younger teens in the sjm fandoms? I’m starting to get uncomfortable when younger kids follow me and their age is outright listed on their description.

This went way longer than I thought it was. I’d originally planned simply giving a one sentence response, but the more I thought about it, the more I think I needed to clarify, and pin down why I felt this way. Because opinions aren’t fact, you know?

I didn’t grow up on bedtime stories where the prince saved the princess. When my mother tucked me into bed, she told me two weeks after her marriage, she cut herself. As she made the motions over her wrist, I sick feeling remained in my stomach for days, and every day my father came home from work, I would rub my palms over my arms.

My father holds that sex remains an integral facet of a marriage. Without intercourse, two individuals exist as friends. So whenever my father felt aroused, he forced my mother to have sex with him, even though she’s repeatedly told me when we’re alone she doesn’t want it—but she has to if this marriage is to work.

I told my mother that that is rape, that he’s undermining the vow to love each other. But my mother’s so broken down from her young, past self, she can’t see it. One day, she asked me, “Do you think your father’s controlling?” Not husband, but my father.

And it is my father that locked me out on the porch, and when he let me in with me blubbering “why why why”, he told me, “I destroy my enemies so completely so that they don’t destroy me.” Me—his daughter—his enemy.

I’d been doing the dishes, and the plates had made a clashing noise. “That sound is annoying,” my father had said, approaching me. “If you make it again, I’m going to start using my fists to keep me happy.”

I told him I’d report him, but that didn’t deter him. “Good!” he shouted. “Report me so that I don’t have to take care of you anymore.” My mother had watched silently, but she knew she couldn’t do anything.

Because he is controlling. He had my mother quit her job before I was born, and told her if she wanted to get one know, it would have to be as a trash can driver—because it’s work that’s singular, where she won’t be surrounded by people. He closed both my mother’s and I’s bank accounts.

My younger sister whispered to me one day when our father was home, “If this is love, then I do not want it.”

I found love overrated at this point, anyway. I identified (and still do) as an asexual, so when my father preached sex was the fundamental root of a relationship, I cringed. And when my sister, still discovering her orientation, told me she thinks she’s bisexual—well, I knew we were doomed.

We couldn’t talk to our parents—because my mother tells my father what we tell her—about how we felt.

“You’ll like boys when you get older,” my father said. It’s why when I was in elementary school, he had me sign a contract that I wouldn’t date until I was over 21. “You’ll start feeling attracted sexually—that’s normal.”

But I never did. I found boys cute, sure, but it never went further than that. And whenever my friends came out to be gay, and he found out, he’d say, “It’s a phase in life, they’ll get over it.”

I’ve never said it outright that he needed to get over his own homophobic feelings. It was not up to him to play a god and determine the happiness of others—such as I cannot let age be an aspect of discomfort to justify monitoring or controlling others.

Who was my father to lecture me on the privilege of having the chance to cut myself when he found out I was suicidal? Who was he to laugh at me when I demanded he re-open my bank account and tell me “that’s cute” when I begged for my own credit card? [Side not, just today I opened a student savings account! It feels amazing having this autonomy, even small, from him. It’s a step.]

Celaena had been told by Arobynn, the father (?) figure she knew, about the ways of assassins. When you apply the psychodynamic view, it’s no surprise she believes in the beginning violence is the answer. And in my household, when not negative reinforcement, but punishment reigns, you associate violence as a form of tough-love.

But books show that this is not the way, and it doesn’t have to be. I read TOG when I was a freshmen, thirteen years old. I’d gone through the Wattpad phase, scoffing and belittling every romance/chick-flick/werewolf/vampire/love work in my head. What did these people know about love, probably conjuring these scenes they wished happened to themselves?

But the beauty with SJM’s works is that not only are her fictional relationships unique, but herself and her husband Josh’s relationship too. With SJM’s characters such as Aelin, it took our favorite protagonist more relationships than the single one in books where the female lead + first male mentioned ship together.

In ACOTAR, on the other hand Nesta’s been assaulted by Tomas Mandray. Feyre goes back to an abusive relationship (arguably) with Tamlin. Elain’s put herself in a shell when Feyre went missing. Her characters intertwined with pieces of my own story. There are not just external challenges, but internal character development cognitively.

And meeting people, conversing with people over Tumblr—I found people just as broken, if not more, than me. You can’t dismiss these people in the fandom across all ages who have had their own experiences because of relativity.

And I find age a relative number. Oprah Winfrey was 9 when she was raped. One of my closest friends, an immigrant from Egypt, was nearly 5 years old when his house had been ravaged apart and the sounds of gunshots still ring in his years more than decades later. And conversely, I learned what a dildo was when I was in a senior in high school—and over Tumblr.

When sex-ed teachers said “don’t have sex till you’re married”, I saw that sentence as justifying what my father said—that sex is essential to marriage. But it is anything but. Trust and communication are. In fact, in social societal circumstances, what you learn in the classroom never covers this. And if you’ve been raped—how do you feel, knowing that you didn’t have a choice?

Because my mother didn’t have a choice, not when she’d be left with nothing now if she filed for a divorce. Neither did my friend who was attacked by a male when she was at the gas station and dragged away in the night at Bakersfield. Education never covers more than the basic of what has been preached for years.

For so long, no’s have been negotiated. If I tell a man “no”, he says, “But I’ve brought you coffee this entire week. I’ve made you food when you were sick. You owe me this at least.” Do I really owe him that? If I’d known his supposed kindness wasn’t hallmark of friendship, but something much more sinister, would I be emotionally manipulated into feeling like a bitch if I’d disagreed?

So when SJM gives me a badass female who goes through the stages of defeat and grief, but picks herself back up, I see a role model. I see what my mother could have been. I see what my father would have deserved—my father who negotiated my mother’s no’s, and that is not okay. “No” is a complete sentence.

It’s not to say SJM’s books prove the epitome of relationships—Aelin had intercourse with Rowan on the beach—do you know how unsanitary that is?? Do you know???

I get the age stigma, and I’m going to admit that I didn’t have my sister read City of Heavenly Fire while Jace and Clary have sex in hell—am I the only one who found that ridiculous?? Books do over-romanticize things, but isn’t that the point of fanfiction? To portray it in however you feel—more realistically?

When I first came onto Tumblr, my fics were only angst. I carved facets of my own family life into these fics, and when I received notes that readers cried and couldn’t believe I had the capacity to write this, they became more exposed unknowingly to bits of me.

I’d rather my sister read books and join the Tumblr fandom than say yes to the boy on the bus showing her a pornographic video (because boys do that unashamed here), allow teammates on our cross country and track team to smack her butt and ask to make her feel better with a kiss, etc.

Because in our circumstance, reading the stories of those, such as Celaena who survived Endovier—she’s the closest thing we have to understanding our own situation of what transpires in our house. When Sam died, my friends had sobbed while those whose parents had passed away—they didn’t shed a tear. So the former learned what it felt like to have someone you loved ripped away from you—and this empathy later on serves as a life skill.

The fandom itself has been incredibly supportive. I’ve met people from Bulgaria to Australia, and not only do I have better glimpses into the culture, the bond of SJM books have brought a situational awareness that I have yet to experience sitting fifty minutes in a high school classroom.

Because it’s too late to learn the truth of things in college. Our brains do not absorb the information as compared to when we were younger. Retention rates and all that—we’ve got to start young. There are many forms of education, and Tumblr taught me that my father is not the only type of male in the world—and that there are others like me who have thought there was no way out.

SJM’s characters have taught me self-love, that I can be more than my environment. Age knows no boundaries. What one person experienced at 9 years old is what another could have in his/her 20’s.

Age has always been a limit. I mean, it wasn’t until the 26th amendment 18 year olds and over could vote—but are there not the prodigies below that mark more informed about government and politics than someone who has only lived in their city and has been exposed to their parent’s opinions since he/she never went to college? Especially today with the Internet as such a vast source and online class to enroll it, education starts with incentive, not age.

And if NSFW posts are the issue, then we can always insert that read-below cut. It won’t prevent them from not reading, but we can always frame it in a way that perhaps is meant for these younger readers, and then at the very end, reveal that it was for such.

We can use our blogs in a positive manner to educate about sex, if that’s the root of uncomfortableness. We can be the sex-ed class that we never got. Tell me why my sex-ed teachers called people out if they asked questions, saying the kids were too eager? If we are to overcome the stigma about learning about our bodies, then we have to be able to talk about it.

The youth are the future generation, and if we keep teaching kids that we shouldn’t know things at certain ages, then we set limits on education itself. When I told my sister to not read City of Heavenly Fire, she got a copy from her friend and read it herself—which put a strain on our bond. Because restrictions show that we do not trust. And we’ve got to take the leap of faith.

I get not everyone has these tragic/pity/sorrowful stories, no matter what you believe. But personally, SJM’s books taught me that there exists some good in the world. There is redemption. There are second chances, and my sister and I struggle to fix our family.

We have to be exposed. It’s how we function. And for kids who never went through sex-ed, reading books as a source of information can direct them to look things up and educate themselves.

SJM’s books illustrated that you could find happiness without sex—a fact my father would have disagreed with. SJM showed that love is progress, and doesn’t have to be detrimental. Some may interpret her books in other ways, but that’s why it’s so pivotal we have these discussions.

Take Nesta Archeron. Lots of people has called her a cold-hearted bitch, not realizing that it’s an actual, legitimate defense mechanism. And if being a cold-hearted bitch is sending mercenaries after your sister, starving yourself to death so their father would save them, writing a letter to the Mortal Queens despite her hatred of Faes—then I guess I would be too.

But knowing me, I’d freeze up and probably would have not lived at all. Because it’s easy to dismiss characters when they do something we don’t—as if we could have done better. Sure there’s ways Nesta could have gone about and done things differently, but then she wouldn’t have been Nesta Archeron, you know? We’re dismissing her as a person, and coping mechanisms as invalid, which people use in life.

Passing judgments on characters is easy, but when you dive into the Tumblr fandom, you see people defending her (like me), and get another side of things. These debates allow for that one track mind to diverge.

Because if I hadn’t opened up to people, then I would have continued to cut myself. And then I was able to help my sister stop too. The exchange and interaction of ideas may be used to promote ideas that no longer remain up to date, but that’s why we have other users who are up to date, and use their knowledge to write about them. Because knowledge is power!!

What do you guys think? Lowkey highkey want your feedback and thoughts not just to my response but the anon’s as well.

#anon #opinion #thoughts #if you have more questions just in case i made this more confusing shoot me an ask #because i ramble #a LOT

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lightning-court · 7 years ago

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Tattered Nerves and A Dance (Part 1)

Part 1 Of a fic about the Tempest Ball, of course written by our wonderful Healer @lifelillysandmagicwands yet again! Part 2

Olivia was frantic. There was too much to do, she was a bundle of stress and nerves. The Tempest Ball was like her child, one that only showed up once a year and gave her headaches and insomnia. Everything had to be perfect, the food, the music, the decorations. It was all important and honestly, it was all a pain in the ass. This was her job as the (entertainment manager) but this was the largest party of the year, with the highest number of attending guests from other courts. Her High Ladies never made her feel like she had to outdo herself every year, but for the sake of pleasing them and impressing those almost unimpressible High Lords from the other courts - she would.

Sitting slumped in the grand hall of the palace and completely alone, she took a deep breath, her eyes stinging with the threat of tears. She had never been this stressed in her 3 years of planning court happenings, but this year was different. Everything was. Pulling out a small tin from her skirt pocket she pulled out a piece of the blended herbs Levi had given her for her headaches. After chewing on it for a moment, she stood and picked up her event book, she flipped to the decoration section. As she was busy visualising and writing down where everything would be, far on the other side of the castle, was someone who was also more than a little nervous about the upcoming Ball.

Brie clenched the smooth silk of her sparkling gown in her fist. She had been with the court tailor for hours, trying on far too many dresses and getting nowhere. It wasn’t the tailor’s fault, the dresses were all lovely - they just didn’t feel right to her. She was standing in her chambers with the afternoon air tickling her exposed skin-in this dress, she felt too exposed. She needed to be confident and elegant and this mess of seafoam tulle and white lace didn’t help in the slightest. Noticing her fumbling with the laces in the bodice, the tailor quickly dashed to her side, a second away from an apology.

“The dress is beautiful, Markila, but I don’t feel like myself wearing it, if that makes sense” she quickly spouted out another apology after she finished. Nodding with her hand on her chin Markila - the finest tailor in the Court- waved a hand and the strings holding up the back of the dress began to unwind. Brie sucked in a deep breath, that corset was far too tight. Twisting her hair over her shoulder she let the heavy gown drop to the marble floor.

“If that wasn’t to your liking Milady, perhaps this will do instead?”

Brie turned with a sigh, this was the twelfth dress today, she might just give in and wear whatever Markila had chosen, but her eyes widened as she saw what the tailor held in her small hands.

A long dress that came to the floor, its color of the deepest sapphire and obsidian; it sparkled as the lamp light hit it. The dress had a high neck and no back, with twin slits down the thighs giving room to walk, and kick if needed. The bodice was embroidered with delicate silver roses and leaves, a black ribbon winding loosely around the waist.

Slowly taking the fabric in her hands, she let herself marvel at how light and soft the fabric was. This was it, her dress for the Tempest ball. Her mothers would love it, she was sure. She could practically see herself gliding across the floor of the grand hall, the technicolor lights hitting the dress as she danced. Scooping the dress into her arms fully, she gave Markila the biggest smile she could muster.

“It’s perfect Markila. I can’t even express how much I love it! Thank you.”

“I had a feeling you would like that one over the hot pink one I had left” she replied with a wink.

Brie turned around, clutching the dress to her chest, she spun around the room, practically singing. The door closed quietly; Markila had taken her leave after collecting her things. And after admiring the dress again, Brie hung it in her closet and set out in search of dinner. The ball was in two days, and all the High Lords had written her mother to say they would come. She was ecstatic, after all, all the high lords included Tarquin!

Brie punched the air in victory, this year she would tell him how she felt. This year for sure.

In her quiet home in the woods, Erlanya the court witch was working away on yet another spell for the upcoming Ball. So many people - too many she thought. Protection spells for each High Lord and Lady. Anti-enchantments (they couldn’t have another replay of the Spring Court’s masquerade ball, now could they?) and plenty of other spells for various reasons. Wardruna watched her from the corner as she moved back and forth between her books and her many tables. She scanned her ‘Hexes and Such’ journal, one of the many she had written over the centuries.

The ball was fast approaching and the High Ladies had requested her presence as a special guest, since she didn’t usually come to such events. But this year was different and she’d be damned if she missed it. She would just have to stick to the shadows and enjoy the party as a whisp-on-the-wall.

The barely visible sun was setting and giving way to the waning moon that Erlanya knew would illuminate the sky that night. Dipping a hand into a potion she had made a year before, she wiped the dark liquid onto eight objects. A rose, a sea shell, an already melting icicle, a red leaf, a very old scroll, a sliver of sun wood, and finally; a white dragon scale. Each object began to float a few inches off the surface of the table, shaking with a barely audible hum of magic. One by one they began to send out waves of energy - purple, blue, red, green, etc. After all the objects had settled once more, she placed them all into a large Rowan wood trunk. She would bury it the night of the ball.

Exhaustion hit her the way it did after every major spell. Putting a hand on her temple, she blindly found her way to Wardruna and settled down between her large arms. The dragon purred and laid it’s head down with a soft snort.

She waved a hand as the warmth of her dragon settled over her and all the lightning lanterns but one went out, casting her home into the comfort of darkness. She would begin the ceremony for the all the castle staff the next day but for now she had no other obligation then to sleep away the growing pull of exhaustion.

Arriving home late in the night, feet sore and stomach growling for a hot meal, Saers pulled open the door to the small apartment that he shared with his mate. The entry way was dark and silent, the air smelled of lemon verbena and burning wood- he took a minute to appreciate the lovely scent. The few weeks on the mission had left him smelling a little worse than he’d like so he’d shower quickly before bed. Letting his heavy bag drop to the floor with a quiet thud and slipping off his walking boots that were caked in mud from the last storm, he slipped into the main room. It was a large rectangle, the farthest wall made entirely of windows, their sills lined with herbs and medicinal plants that Levi tended to. Saers also had a plant, a small winter cactus that was impossible to kill and didn’t need to be looked after, a cold ice blue and spotted with pin sharp spines. He had affectionately named his plant Prick. Besides the piles of flora they had laying about the apartment, the main room was filled with bookshelves and large mountains of books strewn about as well as a large cushiony couch covered in plush pillows and fluffy blankets; it wasn’t uncommon for him to find his mate asleep in a tangle of the latter after not being able to find her for hours. Quickly checking the couch to make sure that this wasn’t the case, he proceeded to tip-toe into the kitchen. The tiny kitchen was on the darker side of the color spectrum, with inky marble counters and dark wooden cabinets. Snatching an apple off the counter and two cherry tarts, he turned to head back to the main room with the intention of eating on the couch and possibly sleeping there.

But within the blink of an eye his snacks had disappeared and he was blinded by the lamp switching on right next to his face. When he regained his ability to see, before him stood his very angry mate. Levi opened her mouth, undoubtedly to chastise him for sneaking tarts before bed but before she could Saers scooped her into his arms, an adoring smile lighting up his face. She was close to his height and by picking her up so fast, Saers ended up knocking heads rather strongly with her. Releasing her with a yelp, he stumbled back, rubbing his forehead.

“Sorry love, just got a tad excited. Missed you so much ‘is all” he said, glancing up at her with a rueful smile. In the light, he got a better look at her. Her long hair was loose and tangled, most likely from sleep. Her dark eyes were alight with with both annoyance and fondness. She wore her rumpled sleep cloths and had only one sock on, per usual.

“I should have guessed the first thing you’d go for was the tarts” she retorted with an exasperated sigh. Saers grinned. “You really should know me by now, love”

Instead of replying with words she gently pulled him down for a chaste kiss. As she pulled away Saers pouted, tucking his nose into the crook of her neck and mumbling “I’ve been gone for weeks woman, a little more affection please!”

Levi laughed softly and kissed his cheek before replying. “Gone for weeks without a word and coming home at three in the morning, you’ll get affection after I get sleep” dragging him by the hand and closing off the lamp, she pulled him down onto the cushiony couch and settled down next to him with her head on his chest. They were both quiet for a heartbeat of peace.

Saers broke the silence. “Ya know I’m kinda hungry, would’ve been nice to eat somethin’ before bed.”

“How ‘bout eat your words and sleep. I’ll make you waffles in the morning” she said, her voice slurred. Saers knew she’d be asleep in seconds and then she’d be out cold. Before he thought it over for the millionth time he blurted, “Go with me to the Tempest ball” loud enough to make her jolt with fright at the sheer volume. Levi groaned and pulled a blanket over her face “If I say yes will you let me sleep, Saers?”

“So is that a yes?” she didn’t respond but he knew she was still awake. “Well I’m not hearing a no.”

She let out a muffled scream into the blanket before roughly yanking it off her face and meeting his eyes and saying sweetly.

“I love you with all my heart darling, but right now the last thing you need is another part. The last one you were at, you broke two windows and managed to piss off half the locals”

“Okay first of all-” she put a finger to his lips before he could continue, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“We’ll look for cloths for the Ball tomorrow, but cauldron help you if you don’t shut up right now, there will be no way for you to stand let alone dance at the Ball”

He hastily closed his mouth and blinked. He’d forgotten how scary she was when she was tired. Even though he was trained for battle and she was trained for healing, he always thought she had the eyes of someone deadly, not his gentle flower loving bookworm - a soldier in a previous life perhaps. He nodded once and it seemed to be enough for her as she rested her head against his chest again. It took another ten minutes before his eyes grew leaden and as he was beginning to slip into unconsciousness when he heard Levi faintly whisper “Goodnight…love you”

With the last of his energy he uttered “I love you too, Flower” before his head lolled back and he fell into darkness.

“Bon hurry up! You have to be there to welcome the High Lords with me!” El yelled from Bon’s living room. The person in question was buzzing around her room in a panic, her voluminous gown a weight she would gladly carry because she knew how good she looked in it. It was a black tulle gown that reached the floor in a puff of dark black skirt that became a gorgeous purple at the bottom, the top was a simple black but was cut in such a way that left two long pieces of fabric to cover her breasts and came together to form a choker, accenting her long slender neck. She’d picked it out weeks ago in preparation and pure excitement. Marci had come in earlier to do her makeup, a simple black smokey eye and pink lips in the light of day, but at the ball, her face would be transformed by glow-in-the-dark speckles of various colors. The bottom of her dress would also glow a bright purple in the black lights of the ball. Marci had insisted she looked spectacular and tried her best to calm the nerves that were so close to fraying before she had to leave and get ready herself. The ball didn’t officially begin till nine but the High Lords were all set to arrive half an hour earlier and boy was she terrified. Bon had met all the High Lords before on trips with El and Gusty and liked them all well enough- well most of them at least. She was mainly looking forward to seeing her friends from other courts who were also coming as part of their High Lords’ circle. Her friend Mor was coming and she was surely going to bring along the Shadowsinger. Bon felt her heart stutter. Azriel of the Night Court. He was devastatingly handsome and horribly and completely undeniably in love with another woman. Standing in front of her mirror she patted down her dress and checked her hair - it was loosely curled and half up, parts hanging around her face to accent it.

She took a deep breath and smacked herself. Before spinning on her heel and walking out of her room, determined to enjoy the Ball and avoid the gorgeous spy at all costs. Tonight was a party, a few drinks wouldn’t be a bad idea-just to keep her mood up. she reassured herself.

El stood in the living room, her storm grey dress had a sheer top made of grey lace with long sleeves and high neck. On most, it would have looked ridiculous. But there was something about El. The way she held herself or maybe it was the way she radiated warmth that made even the cold grey of the dress something to marvel at. Bon let out a low whistle, admiring El’s intricately braided updo, beautiful silver and gold crown of Lynsten and thorns. Her beautiful makeup that made her cheekbones sharper and her eyes more ethereal had also made her skin a shimmering pale white and grey like stone.

“Gusty is going to drop to her knees when she sees you El” Bon commented with a smirk. El’s pale cheeks bloomed with red and her wings fluttered. “Let’s hope not” she said, ducking her head down to hide her blush

“Rhys would never let her live it down.”

Bon froze, her eyes going wide. “They’re already here?” she whispered in disbelief. She thought she’d have enough time to get hammered before she had to deal with their arrival. El snorted in a very unladylike fashion before shaking her head.

“No they’re not here yet. Calm down Bon, you’re too young to stress so much.”

“I’m not stressed El,”

“You’ve been pacing in circles for a hour and jumping off chairs like a toddler.”

She paused “I have?”

El sighed and yanked the door open before replying “Yes you have. Now hurry up or we’ll be late. you know how August likes punctuality.”

They walked down the corridors side by side and besides the sound of their footfalls the faint sound of music could be heard echoing through the stone halls. El didnt say anything, presumably because she knew just how panicked Bon really was and knew she needed to be left with her thoughts. So she let her think in the five minutes it took to find their way to the castle’s entry way. The large enchanted stained glass doors depicted the city’s protector Keranos in a fierce battle with an army drenched in blood wearing crowns of sand. The door was more than three metres high and illuminated with a halo of lanterns. The hall wasn’t as full as she thought it would be. The only people present were her, El, Gusty, Brie, and Veanna. As they approached, the small group turned to them, all of them equally as dressed up and as beautiful in their attire. Brie looked stunning in a sapphire and obsidian floor length gown that hugged her hips, her canines out and wings shining with luster paints that made her look like storm flower, her hair twisted and full of midnight blue flowers and vines. Veanna stood proud in a soft blue dress that reached her knees and long flowing sleeves. It was decorated in small birds and leaves, her chestnut brown hair straight and glittering with a small diamond circlet that hung between her brows delicately. She had painted detailed feathers onto her cheekbones and down her arms to resemble bluebirds.

Turning her attention to the last in the group, Bon took a breathe when she saw Gusty in the centre of the three, her expression shifting to one of awe and love as she beheld her mate. Gusty had perhaps the most detailed gown Bon had ever seen. The bodice was a deep scarlet, embroidered with silver clouds and lightning bolts intertwined with tiny silver raindrops leading down the the long skirt. The skirt was a similar color but it was layered with a glittering silver tulle covered in hundreds of small diamonds. The front stopped at her knees but it pulled back and had a long train. Gusty’s hair was curled softly and half braided into her crown of silver thorns and sparkling Lynsten. El released a small breath of air, her expression full of wonder and in a split second she sprinted for Gusty and encircled her in her arms. The two locked lips for a brief moment before Brie spoke up. “Save it for when you don’t have an audience, you two” she said with a grimace.

El blushed deeply, Gusty laughed lightly as she slipped an arm around El’s waist and pulled her closer to her side.

“The High Lords should be arriving any minute. I want all of you on your best behavior, please”

El shot her a curious look. “Where are the rest of the kids? We have more than one.”

“I could only find Brie. The others are running about the castle getting ready I presume.”

El nodded and Veanna began to say something when the tower bell rang four times, signaling the first arrival. All five of them stood straighter and Brie took an audible breath. Two castle staff ran over to open the doors for the guests. Bon thought that this was all taking too long-maybe she could sneak off while they were distracted by the High Lords and their inner circles, she could find somewhere to calm down. Her nerves had returned tenfold, but before she could make her escape Brie grabbed hold of her wrist and held it in a vice-like grip. Turning to give her an alarmed look, Bon was greeted with a murderous glare as Brie leaned in to whisper.

“If you abandon me in a time of romantic crisis, I swear to the mother I will lock you in the kitchen when they make the onion soup on Tuesday and I will watch you suffer”

“Let go of my wrist or I’ll shove you into Tarquin when he goes past” she whispered back, equally as murderous. Judging by the look of mortification on Brie’s face Bon had pushed the right button, her wrist was released. But despite being free to sprint away, she stayed in her spot at Brie and Gusty’s side as the first person came through the entryway.

The Tempest Ball had begun.

High Ladies: @mayhemories and @aelin-and-feyre First: @runesandfaes Second: @ilikebigbooks-and-icannotlie Third: @fiery-feyre and her wonderful wife @darlingfireheart Spymaster: @foxboy-lucien Spies: @havilliardandgalathynius @cynical-minds-for-cynical-times @shinywhiteshoe @tarafitz124 @wingsofanillyrian @zacc-efronn Executive Assistant: @queenoffantasy Light Wielder: @destiny14444 Thunder Enforcer: @poisonbooknerd Storm Whisperer: @kazgavejasonthecrowbar Dragon Keeper: @bbyshadowbat Emissary: @cassiancalore Emissary of Mortal Lands: @dreams-of-feysand Ambassador: @thebookishshadowhunter Healers: @rowanismybae and @lifelillysandmagicwands General: @therealmofgoals Chief Strategist: @acomafxtog24-7 Commandress of Bloodshed: @rhysand-and-rowan Cryptographer: @deathbytitanium Captain of the Guard: @highqueenofmagic Assassin: @acourtoffuckmylifeup Lightning Thief: @sugarcoated44 Seer: @aelinxfeyre Priestess: @rowaelinandfeysandfeels Hitwoman: @seldomsmurf Cartographer: @she-was-brave-and-she-was-strong Librarian/Informant: @deezrmuhsheeple Researcher: @starzablaze Historian: @rhysand-vs-rowan Lady in Waiting: @magic-madness-heavensin Weapons Designer: @inejcalmarekaz Painter: @thexscarletxwitchx The Sassy friend who Wanders in when needed: @tntwme Random Anonymous Cat: @insert-username-here712 Court Falconer: @m0ther0fdragons Court Musician: @veinssaxonio Designer: @tog-trash Cat Lady: @smokeydiamondstorm Court Entertainer: @acourtofredqueens Court Witch: @azuremirwae Random Dragon: @searching-the-stars Crazy Old Sage: @justanotherpaperheart Counselor: @whyyoumakemesadstahp Cook: @alexiea1 Gardener: @otaku-trash-sendhelp1000-7 Architect: @couldilienexttoyou Shapeshifter: @highladyofluna Treasurer: @iris-cygnets Story Keeper: @my-ships-will-never-be-sank Art Shop Keeper: @skyl0rd5117 Teacher: @amberissues Mixologist: @ponyjockey Photographer: @autumn03 Astronomer: @court-of-shadows-and-fury Soldiers: @aelin-rattlesthestars @the-girl-of-ticking-clocks (We are open for potential soldiers) Record Keeper: @feyre-herondale03 Black Sheep Of The Family: @aroyalbluedragon

#the lightning court #the tempest ball #fic #levi writes stuff #kimaere #hiraeth #arach #courts of prythian

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mermaidsonships · 7 years ago

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Best Friends and Barely There Clothing

Helloooo lovies! So this is my first imagine on this blog, and I do hope you enjoy it! I will be posting lots of imagines and blurbs etc. regarding Harry, and most will contain smut! But I will of course have writings that are just pure fluff as well! Enjoy this one!

Warnings: Smut & Language

Word Count: 3k

"Don' tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Having a baby with you?" You asked breathlessly, your eyes falling closed as Harry began to move your hips over his bulge, causing you to let out a quiet whimper as the fabric of his jeans rubbed through the thin lace material covering your clit.

"No love," he let out a throaty laugh, his eyes moving down to where you two were currently grinding against one another, "Don' know why I was thinkin' of havin' a baby, really... was mainly just thinking about sinking my cock inside of ya, pet."

Your eyes snapped open as the words left his mouth as you pressed your clit down against him to gain even more friction as his words literally caused you to throb at the thought, "Harry..." you whimpered quietly, your fingers now gripping onto his tshirt tightly.

"Do you wan' tha'?" His accent was thicker than you had ever heard before as you stared into his darkening eyes, and all you could do was nod your head and let out a breathy sigh of agreement along with it. Somewhere among your exchange of words, Harry's hand had slipped into your panties and his finger was slowly moving around your clit, but not quite applying the pressure you were currently craving; he was going to make you beg for it.

OR the one where Harry really can’t stop thinking about the act of making babies with his best friend, and he’s tired of her slinking around his house wearing barely anything.

"Would ya ever have a baby with me?" The words slipped past his lips casually, his eyes trained on you as he brought the wine glass that was in his hands to a rest on the coffee table in front of you two.

"Excuse me?" You all but choked as the words registered, the wine that was gracefully slipping down your throat coming to an abrupt stop and getting stuck in your vocal pipes, causing you to cough for a few seconds as you worked it out. Your sea green eyes flicked up to his emerald ones, squinting as he watched you with amusement, a small smirk playing on his lips as he captured his bottom one between his thumb and forefinger.

Harry was your best friend. Harry had been your best friend for almost 6 years now, and you had been by his side almost every step of his career, cheering him on and encouraging him to take leaps he was too afraid of. But you were only best friends... why would a baby together ever cross his mind? You two may have shared one or two (or ten or twenty) drunken kisses on nights when you stumbled into one another's flat, coats being haphazardly thrown to the floor and lips meeting in a sloppy goodnight as you both fell onto whomevers bed you had chosen for the night before passing out, but that was it.

"What? Not weird to think about having a baby with ya best friend, is it?" His smirk was only getting wider as you let out an exasperated breath, your eyes narrowing to slits as you decided to place your wine glass on the table next to his.

"S'just...." he continued, refusing to break eye contact, "What if m'not married by the time I'm 30. Ya know more than anyone I wanna have kids... so if m'not married and you're not... would ya have a baby with me?"

"You'll be married," you replied instantly, finally moving your eyes away from him. There was no doubt in your mind that the boy sitting in front of you would most definitely be married by the time he was 30, and you had to look away to stop the unnerving feeling of dread from settling in your stomach as you realized it wouldn't be you. Yes, you and Harry were best friends, but being just friends with someone like Harry wasn't as easy as some would think. Not when Harry was obsessed with affection, especially when it came to you, and you weren't one to shy away from it. It had been a problem in past relationships, for both of you, how close and comfortable you were with each other. You didn't think twice about cuddling into one another on the couch, your fingers intertwined and his lips dropping to the soft skin of your neck every now and then, sometimes just resting there, feeling your skin against his lips. On many occasions you could be found walking around his flat in nothing but a pair of barely there lace panties and a white t-shirt so tight and sheer your perky nipples were on complete display; Harry didn't mind, he didn't mind whatsoever, but his past girlfriends were a different story. Eventually, and you weren't quite sure when, you both stopped dating. Harry stopping bringing home girls, and you stopped bringing home guys. It wasn't something you had discussed, it wasn't something that needed to be discussed; you were simply best friends. Not friends with benefits, just best friends who enjoyed each other's company.

"Ya don't know that, pet." He sent you a smile before moving closer to you, his hands reaching out towards your hips before firmly grasping onto them and maneuvering you so you were now straddling his lap as he rested his back against the couch. You were only wearing a pair of black lace panties that didn't leave much to the imagination and one of Harry's old band tshirts, tied into a knot at the bottom so the skin of your stomach was exposed and the shirt didn't completely swallow you up. It was baffling to him how comfortable you two were with each other, and every time you slinked around his flat in barely there clothing, like right now, it got increasingly harder for him to not bend you over his kitchen counter or couch or really whatever surface he could get you on and finally sink his aching cock into your heat. He wasn't sure where the question about babies even came from, to be honest. He just knows he was once again imagining you withering underneath him, your body draped in his as he pounded into you and you cried out his name, and suddenly he was picturing getting you pregnant and raising a child with you. His hands slipped under your shirt and rested just under your breast bones, his cold fingertips digging into the warm flesh as his eyes fluttered up to meet yours, "Think we would have some pretty great sex in the process as well, love."

"Shut up," you let out a breathy laugh passing his words off as joking; he was taking the piss out of you, that's what it was, but you couldn't control the way your heart started racing at his words and your stomach began to twist itself into knots. His lips began trailing down your jawline, his grip on your hips becoming tighter as he pushed you down onto his hips even more than before and you became increasingly aware of the bulge in his pants that was pressing against your now wet, clothed core. You had absolutely no idea what was happening or how you two had ended up in this position, but you weren't going to complain.

"Don' tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Harry, please..." you sighed, your fingers messily working to unbutton the top he was currently wearing, which, to be fair, wasn't too much of a task since most of the buttons were undone anyway. Your mind was reeling and you had no idea how you two had ended up in this position; you hadn't even kissed yet and somehow his hand was down your panties. His finger immediately pressed into your clit after you whimpered another pitiful please, his fingers rubbing against the small button with force.

"Think I could make ya cum with just my fingers?" His eyes were now glued to your face, watching as your mouth dropped open slightly as he applied more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves and began working it with two fingers, picking up the pace as your breathing increased.

"Yes," you whimpered out quickly, your hands pushing the sleeves of his shirt down as you leaned forward, placing a soft kiss at the base of his throat before sucking the skin inbetween your lips and nipping on it softly, causing Harry to let out a moan. Your lips trailed up to the shell of his ear as your hands shakily made their way down to the waistband of his pants "But I'd rather you make me cum with your cock."

Harry's fingers stalled for a moment as the words left your mouth, his cock twitching as you moved your face directly in front of his. It was a split second descion, but soon his lips were on yours as he pulled his hand out of your panties and quickly hoisted you up even furthuer on his hips as he stood, his arms wrapping under your ass to make sure you didn't fall. This kiss was nothing like the ones you'd shared before; it was passionate and raw and you swore you could see stars behind your eyelids as his tongue trailed over your bottom lip, fighting its way into your mouth and against your own.

Neither of you were sure how you managed to stumble into his bedrooom, but soon you were being thrown onto his bed and he was stood at the foot of it, quickly throwing off the clothing that still draped over his body.

"Ya wearin' too many clothes, love..." he rasped, and you couldn't help but watch his now swollen lips as he spoke. The second his boxers slid off, though, your eyes had quickly forgotten about his lips. You weren't surprised that he was huge; you had seen him running around in his boxers after many shows, the hard outline of his cock on display for whomever decided to wander into his dressing room to ever doubt his size, but you were surprised at how pretty it was. You were no virgin, you'd see your fair share of cocks, but none of them made your mouth water and want to beg to suck it off. The tip was red and already leaking precum, and your hands twitched, wanting to reach out and feel the weight of him in your hand as you worked him to his release, but you had one goal for tonight; to get him inside of you.

Your eyes moved up to his finally, and he raised an eyebrow at you, obviously having caught you admiring his cock, but you only smiled sweetly and quickly tossed of your (his) shirt, finally revealing your breasts to Harry, and now it was his turn to stare. He had never seen them before, despite how bad he wanted to and the little amount of clothing you wore around him; every now and then he would get a peak of side boob, but you were always careful to keep them well covered. His pupils seemed to take over his entire irises and before you could even blink, he was crawling on top of you and his lips had made a home on your perky and erect nipples.

"Fuck," you cried as he sunk his teeth down on the sensitive nub, your eyes rolling back slightly as you felt his cock slap against your thigh. You let out a quiet whine as he moved onto your other nipple, your hand sliding between the two of you and finally wrapping your small fingers around his length.

"Don' do tha', pet.." he looked up at you as his hips instinctively snapped forward searching for more friction, but you only tightened your hold and ran your thumb over the head of his cock, slowly swirling the precum that had built up around him. He closed his eyes, taking in a sharp breath and just breathing for a moment before he quickly moved up your body so his face was hovering over yours, his cock now lingering over your still clothed, wet heat, "Need ya t' get ya hand off o' me, love, so I can get inside of ya."

Your hand stalled for a moment before finally giving in, but you were quick to bring your hand up to your lips and lick the precum that was now on your thumb off, your tongue swirling around it as you smirked up at Harry. He said nothing, only smirked before quickly pulling your panties off and throwing them across the room.

"Like to play dirty huh?" At this point he was now sitting up in between your legs, his eyes glued to your dripping center as he wrapped his own hand around his cock, slowly dragging the head of it through your walls. You pushed your hips up as he neared your entrance, letting out a quiet gasp as he pushed just the tip inside of your warm walls.

"Please Harry.." you whined, your fingers wrapping around the sheets on either side of you as you spread your legs even further, your hips snapping up in hopes of getting him fully inside of you. But he was quick, and his hands came to rest on your hips and hold you down on the bed so he could go at his own pace.

Slowly, he began to inch inside of you, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt how fucking tight you were and he swore he would never find someone as good as you, and he wasn't even fully in. Your eyes were glued to the spot you two were connecting, your jaw dropping slightly as he stretched and filled you in a way no one had ever done before. Neither of you mentioned a condom, which was something you both were usually very adamant about. But you both knew you were clean, and Harry had spent so many nights with you he knew the exact time you would take your birth control at this point; if you were going to finally fuck, it was going to be bare.

Once he finally bottomed out, he leaned over you and quickly intertwined your fingers, placing them on either side of your head as he rested his forehead against yours, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of one another.

"So fuckin' tight 'nd warm," his voice was strained and his grip on your hands was rough, and you knew he was trying to hold back, but that wasn't what you wanted.

"Move Harry, please... wan' you.. wan' you to fuck me till I can't walk," your legs wound up and around his waist, the heels of your feet pushing into his asscheeks and trying to propel him forward even more. Your words caused him to let out a loud groan which was soon followed by him dragging his cock until it was just the tip inside of you before quickly thrusting his hips into yours as hard as he could muster.

Your quiet moans and whimpers and the way you moved your hips up against him, matching his pace only seemed to spur him on, and soon he was back on his knees, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there would be bruises in their wake tomorrow and you could tell he was determined to absolutely ruin you. He was snapping his hips into yours harder than you ever thought possible and you swore it would hurt if it didn't feel so fucking good, and you knew part of it was just the fact that it was Harry who was the one burying himself inside of you as if this was his one and only chance.

"Harry... fuck... please..." you weren't sure what you were begging for; your eyes were rolling into the back of your head and your hands were propped against the headboard, holding you in place so he didn't push your head against the wood every time he slammed his cock inside of your wet cunt. He was a moaning mess on top of you, his eyes glued to where you two were connecting, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on your hips.

"Gonna... fuck... gonna make ya' cum all over my cock, kitten. S'that what you wan'? Wanna make a mess o' these sheets with me? Wan' me t' smell ya' on my sheets weeks from now?" The head of his cock was now massaging that one special spot inside of you with each thrust of his hips, and you could barely form your own words after hearing his filthy mouth, all you could do was nod your head and try to catch your breath as one of his hands released your hip and he quickly began to move your clit under his thumb in fast and hard circles.

"Jesus Christ Harry," you all but screamed, your toes curling at the feeling and you could see the faint ghost of a smirk on his lips as he continued fucking into you at a steady pace, his own grunts mingling with your breathless whimpers.

You were close, you were so close and the way Harry was ruthlessly pounding into you and creating the perfect pressure on your clit had your back arching and your pussy clenching around his dick in no time, leaving your mouth hanging open in a wordless cry as he fucked you through one of the most intense orgasms you'd experienced. Your entire body felt like it was on a cloud as your walls throbbed around him and your legs shook, your fingernails digging into the surface of the wood headboard you were clutching onto for dear life. It wasn't long before Harry's body was collapsing forward onto yours as he began to scream profanities and emptied himself inside of you, the feeling of his warm cum coating the inside of your walls causing you to whimper out his name quietly and dig your hands into the short curls atop his head as he buried his face into your now sweaty neck. He was completely buried to the hilt inside of you and he just wouldn't stop, and soon you could feel him starting to leak outside of you from the sheer amount he was cumming.

Needless to say, you were both completely and utterly fucked out. Harry slowly slid out of you, and you ignored the feeling of both of your finishes slipping outside of you for a moment as he stayed cuddling into your neck. His lips were slowly dragging across your skin, placing soft kisses on random areas every now and then. Your hands were busy playing with the tufts of hair on top of his head and the back of his neck, admiring how the short length was slowly growing out as you tried to catch your breath.

You laid like that for a few more moments before Harry gained the strength to push himself up on his hands and hover over you once again, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at your tired face.

"Gotta clean ya up, baby. Then we can sleep," your heart absolutely burst out of your chest as the name baby slipped from his lips; he called you every pet name in the book, but baby had never been one. You only smiled up at him and one of his hands came to rest on your cheek, his thumb softly stroking over your cheekbone as he watched you closely, "So beautiful. Ya' know tha'?" You let out a quiet laugh and swatted his chest, which was now on display due to his position over you.

"Only saying that because I just let you fuck me," you had a smile on your face so Harry could tell you were kidding, but you saw his eyebrows furrow and his head begin to shake quickly.

"No, always thought you were beautiful. Think I always will," his voice had taken on a more serious tone and all you could do was swallow the lump in your throat and nod your head, watching his eyes as they refused to look away from yours. You stayed like that for a moment before he leaned down once more and placed a sweet kiss on your lips; it wasn't like the one before, this one was holding a lot more emotion than just lust as he captured your bottom lip between his and tugged on it lightly, his hand keeping a firm hold on your neck as he moved his lips in sync with yours before you both needed to come up for air.

He was quick to pull you up and lead you to the bathroom, letting you clean yourself up and himself too before he slipped on a new pair of boxers and let you slip into one of his many shirts. Your legs were sore and he couldn't hide the wide smirk as he saw you struggling to walk to the bed, but he quickly picked you up bridal style and then laid you on the bed (he had quickly changed the sheets while you were in the bathroom). He crawled in beside you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your small frame into his large one and he placed a loving kiss on your forehead. The only sound that could be heard was the quiet hum of the air con and your breathing mingling, and you were slowly falling asleep to the feeling of Harry's fingers trailing pointless patterns against your hand.

"Ya know wha' ya said earlier? 'Bout me bein' married by the time I'm 30?" His voice snapped you out of your almost dream like state, causing you to wrack your brain for the off hand comment you had made in response to his silly baby proposition.

"I do indeed," you responded moments later, your voice laced with sleep as Harry moved even closer to you, his fingers intertwining with yours as he rested his head on your shoulder.

"Think you're right," he whispered quietly, his fingers squeezing yours lightly, "think I'm gonna be married to you, love."

#harry styles imagines #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry blurbs #harry styles blurbs #mermaidsonships

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lunartides · 6 years ago

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My Loss and Other People

I wrote this almost a year ago. I kept promising to come back, edit, and publish it but... well... it just hadn’t yet. So here, in all it’s unpolished prose-- *****************************************************************************

I have resisted journaling because I realize that my feelings are mercurial and don't wish the anger, resentment, passions, or sadness I feel for a minute to come back to damage the people I care about or strain the relationships on which I depend. However, this has been on my chest, and I need to get it off. Please, don’t judge me too harshly--but perhaps this will give you some insight.

My mom died on September 2nd--almost two weeks ago. Yes, things suck. Yes, if I stop and think about it for... any time at all really... I start crying... or I get really angry.

I had a week off--which I needed both mentally and physically. My mom lived 4 hours away and there was (and is) a lot of work to do “to get her affairs in order” as they say. My job only allows two bereavement days, and I was able to finagle it to cover my time--which is good. Doing that, though, required me to tell my dean--who needed to tell my colleagues so that my classes could get covered. I’m currently the Faculty Senate secretary--so it also meant that I had to inform the President and send along the agenda so that the meeting could go on without me.

I had to tell Mom’s friends. One asked if she could reach out to some of Mom’s old work friends and associates. I agreed since I didn’t know many of them or how to reach them. She made an announcement on Facebook and tagged me--which I figured out because Facebook messenger messages started pouring in, people shared their condolences via my personal email, and I got texts from people I hadn’t heard from in years. I haven’t been on Facebook since before she died. I don’t know when I will go back. I had to tell my friends, which I did by telling one person and she spread the word--specifically because I didn’t want to go through everything with each one of my friends. I got phone calls and texts and such--offers to do stuff, or make stuff, or help with stuff...but I didn’t know what to tell them.

I was anxious about coming back to work, but mostly I was relieved for what I had hoped would be the normalcy of it all. Since I had come back home, it was easier to not dwell on it. It was less oppressive. I didn’t have people anxious for me to handle my mom’s business; or to find some missing important item, like a safety deposit box key, a will, an insurance policy; or demanding (in their own, sensitive, yet intrusive ways) that I let them know my plans--what did you decide about a funeral? What did you decide about the assets? Did you pick out a picture? Did you write an obituary? Where are you going to place it? What are you going to do with her remains? ad (literally) nauseum. ...and then there was the feeling of being egg shelled, of being handled--of being asked,“how are you feeling?” “ Are you okay?” and the like. Since I had been home, I had pets, child, and home to look after--there was laundry to do, dishes to clean-- things to put back in their functional places after a well-meaning relative decided to completely rearrange cabinets, shelves, knife blocks, etc. The only time I had even thought about being a “motherless daughter” was when I looked at my watch to see if it was too late to call Mom for the nightly check in... and realized that no one would answer, or when I left my phone behind and worried if she would pick that moment to call... and had to correct myself that I would never have to rush to answer her ringtone again. I was looking forward to just coming in, teaching my classes, and getting back to (the new) normal.

What I got was my colleagues coming by my office to ask how I was doing, or trying to bring or buy me dinner. I got cards from colleagues, from students, from people I barely knew. I started conversations with my colleagues to catch up on what I had missed the previous week, or to share some happy tidbit of personal information, or to ask how they had been--only to be side-barred to ask how I was holding up or to give me their condolences about my mother’s death--each time robbing me of a minute of normalcy. Each time, it left me wondering how I should act, how I should respond, what is expected. They couldn’t actually want to know what happened to her--it’s too gruesome. But still, they seemed to want to share in my grief... my deeply personal, complicated, messy grief... and giving me attention that I didn’t want, didn’t like, and didn’t deserve.

What was unexpected was the numbers of people who came by to tell me that they, too, were motherless children. No... that term is too dramatic. Their mothers had died. I had known some of their situations before--I had actually been worried about my situation causing them some sort of PTSD. I knew two of my colleagues were in similar situations to mine. Their mothers had been in poor health and had to relocate their mothers to be with them. My mom had been on the precipice of that--barring the miracle surgery that she had desperately needed for two years. One of them had lost her mother about a year ago the other, two or three years ago. One of my colleagues had lost her mother several years ago--long before I had met her--and she still mourned that loss. I was afraid that this would reopen old, poorly healed wounds and dredge up bad memories (Can I add any other cliches to this?) and I most certainly didn't want anyone hurting because of me. However, there were so many more of us than I had realized. A colleague had lost his mother at the end of spring semester--had to balance the demands of the end of the semester and his wife and children with the needs of his father and sisters who were in the same area my mother lived in. One of my colleagues had lost her mother when she was young, but she was dealing with the same ghosts I was--understanding who our mothers were, forgiving wrongs, overcoming guilt, and ensuring that we did not repeat the same patterns which formed us with our own daughters. If anything, these visits were the ones that I cherish. They didn't ask what they could do for me. I didn't feel the need for affectation--to be happy when I wasn't or cry when I didn't need to. They shared similar losses. As they shared their stories, I felt less like I was exposed and on display in my grief, and more like I was not alone in all the right ways.

My expression of my emotions has always been contradictory. Sometimes, I feel like telling everyone everything. Sometimes, I don't want to talk about it at all. It reminds me of my music, my singing--how I love that people like my voice and I take pride in the gift I’ve been given, but how sometimes I feel this weird confluence of annoyance and embarrassment when I was asked to sing for someone... when my mom asked me to sing or her or when a friend asked me to sing for her. Maybe it is selfishness--but my grief, like my talent, is personal, and being asked to share it on demand is challenging... difficult... and often feels forced or contrived. I understand that I have a role to play for those who are grieving the loss of my mother--that when her memorial service eventually comes, that I will need to stand there and smile, cry, and hug as is in case appropriate. A funeral, as I told someone at some point over the last thirteen days, is like a graduation ceremony. Graduation isn’t for the graduates; it’s for the family, friends, mentors, and others who supported the graduate--to celebrate their hard work and achievement as much as the graduate’s, In much the same way, a funeral is not for the dead whom it celebrates; funerals are for the grieving who are left behind. Being her only child--being her next of kin-- seeing as the next closest connections are exs and sisters, all complicated (at best) relationships--I am a figurehead, the living embodiment, and receptacle of all their unfinished business and sadness. I get it, I accept it, and I will do my duty, but I am still uncomfortable with it.

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flfreethinker-blog · 7 years ago

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#metoo

I too have suffered sexual abuse. I too was afraid and ashamed to talk about it.

Women have been getting a lot of flack for not speaking out about the times they were sexually harassed by Harvey Weinstein. Assumptions are made that they are jumping on the bandwagon, that people are making up stories - that the idea that someone might be afraid or too ashamed to speak out is unbelievable. This has prompted the #metoo movement, where women are sharing their stories of abuse and harassment to help bring awareness to the issue of sexual misconduct.

This is my story.

I haven't ever really spoken publicly other than in the vaguest terms about what happened to me as a teenager. I was partially ashamed, partially afraid, and partially wanting to not cause people pain. I also didn't want to tarnish the view people had of the man who raised me - as he was truly loved by many. I was always really close to my father growing up. I had a very religious upbringing, being home-schooled with a religious curriculum, taught a very conservative philosophy, and of course, attending church whenever the doors were open. Aside from some obvious differences, I would say I had a pretty typical Midwestern childhood.

This started to change when I turned 14. I can remember clearly when it started. My parents and I were going out of town to visit a family member in our old 70s Ford truck, which had a camper shell and a foam pad in the back I often napped on during long trips (I don't think I wore a seat belt until I started driving). On this particular trip, my father decided he was going to take a nap in the back, while I was listening to music on my Walkman. At some point, he woke up and asked what I was listening to, and we talked a bit about music, laughing and joking.

He often tickled me growing up, and at some point during the conversation, he started tickling me. However, this time he was considerably rougher, touching my breasts and between my legs while still pretending he was tickling. He was mumbling things I didn't understand, like how I drove him crazy. I was freaked out, uncomfortable and couldn't wait to get out of the truck.

I was only 14, sheltered and completely confused about what happened. I tried to put it out of my mind until about a month later when he came into my room with some money. I was really wanting some new cassette tapes, and rarely got extra cash to buy stuff. He started tickling me again, touching me inappropriately and said I had to let him do it if I wanted the money. I was terrified and didn't know what to do, and of course - I wanted the cash. Thankfully, he heard my mother coming down the hall, so he stopped. This time, I was fully convinced that what he was doing was wrong, that it wasn't a mistake the first time - and I felt incredibly guilty for not yelling or stopping him right away.

That was the last time I let him touch me, though he offered me money for "tickling" a few times after that.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of the inappropriate behavior. He also started trying to offer me money to wear low cut or tight shirts, which of course pushed me to wear baggy, grungy clothes instead. Between the ages of 15-17, he regularly would walk around the house in loose boxers, with his genitalia peaking out while trying to get me to play games, have conversations, etc. I lost count of the times he exposed himself to me, though I did my best to avoid him. I even started avoiding going on short trips to the store with him, because he would wear very short shorts and rub himself. It got to the point where I would get nauseous at the idea of being alone in the car with him. I did everything I could to avoid being near him, though he continued to try tempting me with offers of bribes or shopping trips.

Of course, we still continued to attend church, sing songs in front of the congregation and pretend like we were a perfect family. I was very withdrawn and introverted, which my father tried to pry me out of by saying I needed to look people in the eye and speak to them, otherwise they would think I was abused.

When I was 17 - after this had been going on for almost three years, my mother pulled me aside and asked me if he had ever done anything "weird" in front of me. I started crying and said yes, even though I didn't go into detail and I didn't tell her about the tickling incidents - I was still too ashamed, and still felt like it was somehow all my fault. She had noticed him watching me when we were swimming, apparently. I always wore a shirt to cover my bathing suit, however, sometimes it would float up when I was swimming, and unbeknownst to me, he would stare at my body.

I asked my Mom what we were going to do - assuming of course, that she, being the protective mother she was, would pack us up and leave the situation. She tearfully began to make excuses for him. Maybe he was brain damaged due to an accident he had years before. Maybe it was because she wasn't interested in sex anymore. Ultimately her solution was that I do not go on car rides alone with him and that I lock my door at night. There was no confronting him. There were no plans to leave. It wasn't his fault, and I just had to protect myself.

I spent the last year at home in a bubble of anger. We still went to church, we still pretended to be a perfect family. Once I had the opportunity to leave, I found the courage to confront him about his behavior. He cried, he begged forgiveness, but there wasn't anything he could do to erase the years of shame, fear, and guilt.

It took me many years to come to terms with my anger, to assuage the guilt, and to reconcile how I could still love my parents while condemning their actions as wrong. My father should have acted as a father - and treated me as a daughter rather than an object. My mother should have condemned him and protected me rather than making excuses and putting a band-aid on the situation. I was just a child - a naive, sheltered kid with little knowledge of the world, and they abused the privilege of having a child. People make mistakes, but it is hard to forgive when suffering because of their shortcomings.

As a result of sharing this story earlier in the week on my personal Facebook page, my family members have threatened me with physical violence, accused me of crimes, told me I was sick, lying, going to hell, trying to get attention and "fit in", and that my goal was to destroy the family.

My goal is to let other people know that they aren't the only ones who have lived through the betrayal of trust that is sexual abuse. That they have a support system and hope they gain strength from knowing. My goal is also to shine a spotlight on this issue, in the hopes that with so many telling their stories, abusers will be afraid to harm their victims, as sexual abuse is often a crime of convenience and thrives on secrecy.

There is one positive I can take from my experience - that I will always be an advocate for those who claim sexual abuse and give them the benefit of the doubt.

#metoo

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