#god as an absent father is just

[super-lupus]

"Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done." - Luke 22:42

1. Piombo, Sebastiano Del. Christ Carrying The Cross. 1485 - 1547, Art Institute of Chicago, Chicago.

2. Abram, Adam. Gethsemane. 2021, Altus Fine Art.

3. Groaning In Prayer.

4. Jesus In The Garden of Gethsemane.

5. “The Gang Carries a Corpse Up a Mountain.” It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, season 15, episode 8, FX Network, 22 Dec. 2021. Writ. Megan Ganz. Dir. Richie Keen.

[wolfdeans]

I can see the show addressing the whole father and sons of it all with Ramon and Eddie and Chris especially after 8x04 and the convo he had with the cheerleaders father and that’s good that’s great if they address it well but I think the Helena of it all is going to haunt me forever if it’s not touched on with the comments “don’t drag him down with you” and the way she’s so happy to have Chris as a do-over and how she was the present parent and the role she plays in the Diaz family dynamic and just how both his parents have fucked him up and how Eddie only really sees his dad as the messed up one

[captwiles]

sometimes it really does something to me whenever I think about the destruction that Peter causes in Neal's life when he's just trying to make it better.

He arrests Neal, trying to teach him a lesson and bring about justice. Prison only served to cause Neal to make rash decisions in desperate attempts not to go back. He accepts Neal's deal to bring him to work with him for the FBI, thinking that being around what he deems as good influences will make a positive impact. However, throughout the course of the show, being a part of the FBI only makes him a worse person. At the end of season one, he delays Neal from getting onto the plane to meet Kate, trying to convince him to not throw his current life away. At the end of season two, it's revealed that the only reason Adler blew up the plane at all was because Peter showed up. When Neal goes on the run to avoid getting snatched up by Kramer, Peter tracks him down using Ellen's emergency pager. This, in turn, leads to Ellen also getting killed. (Which Neal during a heated argument does actually blame Peter for lol) While Neal and Mozzie are still hiding away on the island, Peter's decision to track Neal down to help bring him home endangers both Neal and Mozzie, and Neal ends up getting kidnapped and shot in the leg. It drives me fucking crazy. I'd have more examples except I can't remember everything that ever happened. anyway.

[widowshill]

the locket, motherhood, & marriage.

139 / 139 / 136 / 136 / 191 / 191 / 191 / 142 / 134 / 143 / 143 / 144 / 144 / 139 script / 144 / 280 / 144 / 144 / 192 / 279 / 279 / 279 / 279 / 143

[keepitdreamin]

Realized when I was making the artwork summary that I never posted this piece. This is Maera who was created for an ancient greek demigods campaign that never made it past the planning stage. She's the daughter of Apollo and Melpomene (the Muse of Tragedy) and a College of Spirits Bard.

As part of making this character, I also mapped the Muses to the Bard Colleges (with the idea that each Muse teaches/grants different powers to their disciples) which I'll put under the cut:

[m00ngbin]

I just saw a Petey the Cat edit to Like Him. This is all too much I can't live like this anymore

[scrawnytreedemon]

Is it so bad that I don't really like ships of characters I simp and I only like the reader insert fics with them?

Yeah I can't deny I'm jealous of the canon x canon ships with my faves, knowing that they possibly can be together while I can't. I know it's dumb,so that's why I never hate on someone who likes those ships I just ignore it

Like Sefikura for example, I don't like it cuz I'm a massive hoe for Sephiroth,also bcuz sometimes they make the ship pretty icky,also bcuz Cloud is baby and I'm still angy at Sephy for mentally torturing my Babyboy like that

IT'S CHAOS WITH MY FICTIONAL FAVES!!!!!!

Nothing wrong with that, personally! I get wanting to indulge in the warmth of a good fantasy-- That is what alot of fiction is for, after all.

Bless you, anon. Alas, as someone also plagued with my own Dumb and Horrid Fictional Feelings, the brain can be such a little bitch when it comes to that stuff. Good on you for recognising how and why you feel that way, ignoring the stuff you don't like and focusing on what you do.

LMAO I get that completely. I should mention, though, that I am one of those people who indulges in the nastier side of the ship, lmaooo. Even so, I get why it wouldn't click with you.

(FR when is it not?)

[catria-whitewing]

.

[dirt-str1der]

Do you consider any of the non protagonist yakuza girls well writen?

I think none of them had rights

[longroadstonowhere]

so

i’m playing a knowledge cleric in my dnd campaign, and the religion we’re using is a really loose structure, half teacher half librarian kinda vibe (and yes i decided to play this character before the library school thing happened), but clerics are something a little extra than just a follower of a religion, right? like, you get your magic powers from your god, so i figure there’s something more happening there for whatever cleric you play

but me, i’m not one for pages and pages of backstory, i’ll figure things out while i’m playing but i mostly just give myself sketches and outlines to work off of, so i present my dm with ‘i had a dream that god told me to look for something, but i don’t remember what i’m supposed to be looking for, and i’m not even entirely sure it was god’

and that’s where we start the campaign, dude in his early forties with a fair amount of knowledge and a not-insubstantial understanding of people finally striking out into the world, and the first major event he runs into involves someone he trusted turning out to be a blood cultist, and he doesn’t really learn from that because surely that was just a one-off weird thing, like not every person you run into will be lying to you, that can’t happen

and it’s happened again and again and again - he finds someone who is scholarly, or helpful, or even of his faith, and he trusts that they’re genuine, or at least that they won’t harm him, and then he is betrayed and it’s getting worse and worse (bodies are starting to pile up around him and some of them are those he created, when he barely took the martial training offered at his temple, only accepting because any knowledge is knowledge worth having, but now death is at his fingertips), and he still wants to believe

the worst of it is that he’s been getting visions, and at first he believed they were from his god, because why wouldn’t he? who else could get inside his head this way? but he’s found that these visions (at minimum, some of them) are coming from a former brother of the cloth, someone who believes their god is lying to everyone and is willing to destroy the entire faith because of it, and he’s recruited so many people of my character’s faith that they can no longer be implicitly trusted, and they’re even being forced to attack and die for this man’s beliefs

so my character is finding that he can’t trust anything implicitly - his siblings of the cloth, the world they live in, even the thoughts in his head - and he still wants, so much, to believe in the inherent power of information, of knowledge, in knowing that even if it’s the worst pain you’ve ever known, knowing is still better than not knowing

and it’s so rewarding to play through faith in this way, to be presented again and again and again with the same choice, the same burden - do you trust this person? do you believe they are who they say they are? how many lies can you hear before you stop believing anything at all?

but lies can tell you the shape of the truth, and that’s all that my character can hold onto sometimes

[ramikotorchwick]

happiness, dueling, heathen gods (I think those 2 are just one together) So, uh... I'll feel happiness dueling with Athena? I figured it out, I'll become a zodiac cavalier!!

Witchcraft, Wisdom, Death...

[cousingregs]

he is literally fundamentally inextricable from the circumstances that made him which mind you are connoted in canon and yet those circumstances and their consequences are still ignored and thus he is misinterpreted. if you CARE

[holographicbutch]

Ok I think I understand why I like chil so much. He's so talee'ah core

[aihaloos]

This is true... except I actually do have a "bunk bed" with a desk underneath! Mine has a staircase on the side (they also act as cupboards!) instead of a ladder and (unfortunately) no curtains. There's also a bed drawer on the bottom of the staircase, so when I have a friend around we use that one. Said staircase can also be used as a bookshelf, and OH BOY was I a huge bookworm. It was always filled with books and little things I often put.

I still use the room, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else

(By the way did I mention that my desk has flower-and-butterfly-shaped lights that don't glare at your face. Yeah.

(The roof scales thing is my house-themed closet))

I am currently trying to procure a lava lamp.

remember when u were like 11 and the only thing u wanted was a lava lamp

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[beanlot]

simon riley, who’s trudging through the sand, leaving the chopper. his darkened eyes, usually surrounded by smudged ink, has been diluted by sweat; the scorching three-week effort of travelling through mexico, and long before that, the confines of the dingy underground bunker they’d used as a command post.

his eyes squint harshly in response to the sunlight, pupils dilating when he sees your figure in the distance.

his wife, holding his little girl in her arms.

sometimes he feels like a failure. absent, unable to provide - no matter how much you tell him you signed up for this, marrying a man who served; no matter how much you try to reassure him that it’s fine he’s missing his child’s first steps or words.

he hates himself for it.

“look, it’s daddy!” you whisper excitedly, gently bouncing the little human in your arms as he approaches. his eyes have softened, a contrast to their usual aggression.

“hey there, my little angel..” he murmurs, clearing his throat as his hands cautiously take her from you. her eyes are big, bulging with surprise, and quickly glassing up with fearful tears.

great. the cherry on top to let you know you’re a shit father, riley.

“oh, i don’t think she likes the mask..” you murmur, trying to calm her down as she starts bawling in his arms. but he’s quick and selfless, gloved fingers reaching for the hem of his balaclava and slowly peeling it off.

“it’s just me, angel. daddy’s not scary, hm?”

“simon-“ you quickly look around, noting the disorientated faces - because he’d never taken his mask off so carelessly, it wasn’t just habit or a way to hide the torture, but it was second skin.

“it’s fine, love.” he reassures you, because for the second time in his life, he needs to figure out his priorities. and ghost, was starting to go further and further down the list, especially when he looks at his daughter; her big eyes, ones she’d adopted from you, scanning his face with amusing confusion.

she looks like an alien this close up. she’s probably wondering who the frick is this guy?

“see, baby? it’s just me..” he whispers, his desire to protect her strengthening when he feels little hands start touching his eyes.

it makes you laugh. fuck, you’ve been staring with love-heart eyes for ages now.

with your help, he’s sliding off a glove, and tenderly tracing your jaw. he missed this, your skin under his fingertips, his thumb tracing the dark bags under your eyes.

“you’re alright? everything been going smooth whilst i’ve been gone?” he murmurs with concern and doting, “getting enough rest, love?”

“i’m okay. it’s part of the job.” you nod, because you knew what you were getting into when you had the conversation, how long it took just to muster up the courage to say i think i want a baby. you knew what motherhood meant, for you and your marriage.

he admires you for it. and he’ll get on his knees and worship the ground you stand on for providing him with a beautiful family, a warm home when he needs it.

and quite frankly, someone who puts him in his place so effortlessly.

“i missed you, c’mere.” he murmurs, burly arm wrapping around your shoulder and enticing you into his chest, careful not to squish the little one. you’d sway side to side, your heartbeat cudgelling against your chest with his scent; he doesn’t smell that good, but you’re grateful that he’s just here, grateful enough to be smelling his dehydrated sweat and grime.

i missed you too, handsome.

“she’s perfect, ain’t she?” he whispers, letting you step back. his eyes are fixated on his little girl, pupils dilated with adoration; the little eyes stare back, but go to curiously analyse the surroundings not long after.

he breathlessly laughs, watching as the little hands tug at his badge. “looks just like you. thank god..”

you playfully nudge his shoulder, sighing. he looks like he’s daydreaming as he scans her - chubby cheeks that have ate well, little strands of hair, thick lashes that blink in bewilderment as she looks around.

but she’s definitely got his bitch face. she looks like she’s judging all the grown men in here.

“had a talk with the lads, and there’s some discussion about me coming home.” he states, his fingers delicately stroking the back of his little girl’s head, feeling the soft fluff. “permanently.”

“what..? but you love.. but this is al-“

“i know, love. but i just can’t.. be out ‘ere whilst you raise ‘er alone.” he pauses. you know he’s right, it wasn’t devotion that had him stuck to you like glue during the end of your pregnancy, or the birth. it was pure luck.

he wished he could’ve been around to watch your bump grow, sit there each morning whilst you retched into the toilet. he needs to be the man you deserve, the father his daughter deserves.

“i wanna be there, for ‘er and for you.” he murmurs, hand reaching out to graze your cheek affectionately. you missed the scorching heat of his palm, the callousness of the jagged scars tainting it.

it was time for him to pack his shit, scrape away all the baggage and gruel from al-mazrah and las almas. and instead, bathe in the intermingling body warmth of his wife, under the sheets on a thursday evening. praise her for the fine woman she is, kiss at the stretch marks on her hips and stomach from the beautiful life she’d created. sit beside his child as she bashes shapes against the toy sorter angrily, pretend to eat the plastic food she gives him.

it was time for him to forget ghost, just for now, and be simon riley.