#i hope I am. not being annoying with the tag;;

[17020]

uhh.. kotoha..? what happened last night..?

nsfw (?). not explicit, but i'm tagging it anyway. content warning for dubcon (togame is sober, fem! reader is not), alcohol consumption, implied thigh riding. this happened to me at a halloween party a few weeks ago, so to cope i'm writing it out. stay safe beautiful angels! togame is an ass in this one. i am sorry to jo togame. tried to lighten the mood with cameos from other shows.

it was all a blur. the bottle of rum you gulped down in less than an hour did not help, either.

what started out as a tranquil week ended up with a text from your best friend: an address to a house for a halloween party. ladies pay $5 if you signed up beforehand, $10 if you show up at the door. begrudgingly, you agreed, being added to the party's group chat and noticing some familiar names.

and when you're invited in such a hurry, the options for costumes are non-existent. throwing on a skimpy all black outfit and styling your hair with some accessories, you hoped you would at least pass as misa amane.

not that anyone would mind, anyway, because as soon as you and kotoha stepped in, you were flooded with the scent of sweat and liquor.

knowing absolutely nobody meant you had to join an established group. two women alone at a party was never a good sign, so when you spotted a group of girls and one guy, you knew you had to spark up a conversation.

what you didn’t expect, was to be approached by a cowboy. and behind the messy buttoned up shirt, red bandana and huge brown hat, was shishitoren’s second in command.

“so, what’re you dressed up as, pretty?”

his tone was laced with cockiness, as if every fiber of his being was pure gold. gold that, in his eyes, might’ve been the world’s greatest treasure, yet nothing more than cheap trash in yours. but when rum hasn’t hit you hard enough, you need to find some sort of entertainment. what’s a conversation with a man going to do?

“misa misa” you smiled, “what about you? what are you dressed up as?”

he pretended to think about it for a moment, as a younger, shorter man jabbed him with his elbow, gushing about how you were the greatest costume he’d ever seen of misa so far. “i’m dressed as a cowboy, pretty” he said, tilting the hat on his head. “so you’re misa misa, where’s your light?”

you shook your head while laughing, “there’s no light here, bud. so what brings you here?”

after long talks of what dragged each of you to a backyard after party somewhere in keisei, finding out you live near one another, and him asking you the ‘how old do you think i am’ question, there was one thought that never left your mind…

gosh. jo togame is so annoying.

it was annoying, the way he tried leading you away from your best friend kotoha and onto the dance floor, with your hand doing crazy signals behind your back in hopes of her noticing. which she did. she dragged you away from him with the excuse of looking for another nonexistent friend, which you were truly grateful for.

and not even an hour later, you saw the cowboy again. to your surprise, he was on the dance floor once more. with a girl who looked exactly like you.

it was obvious he had a type.

a while later, you stumbled across him again, this time completely alone, and completely shirtless. it was then when you realized the alcohol had finally kicked in, full on. you nearly tripped on your own feet as you walked towards him, with togame’s arm snaking around your waist to catch you.

“you look a bit gone, pretty. gotcha some water.”

you took the plastic cup from his hand, almost gulping it down in one go. when he set the cup aside his attention was fully on you, and that was when your body decided it was best to fool around.

“i saw youu pretty boyyy” you slurred, “saw you with someone else while i was gone!”

he chuckled as he brought you closer to him, “you were with your friend, beautiful. thought you didn’t want me there, cause i do want you here.”

in a swift movement, his chest was pressed against your back as he swayed both of your bodies to the music blaring through the speakers. “you wanna dance with me, doll?”

you nodded, as the big hands on your waist pulled you even closer to togame, his hips slowly grinding against yours. you could feel his breath hitch on your neck, as the music became louder and louder. grinding soon enough turned into thrusting, with his hands lowering towards your hips. togame was quick to turn you around, your legs parted as he propped up his knee. togame leaned in, with you softly pushing his head to the side, shaking your head and mouthing a ‘no’.

but jo togame liked a challenge.

so as you tried to regain your composure one of his hands lowered to your ass, rolling your hips against his thigh as he closed the distance between the two of you, the other hand cradling your jaw.

jo tasted normal. you tasked like alcohol filth.

he wasted no time slipping his tongue inside, earning a gasp from you as you desperately clung onto him for stability. thinking you might as well enjoy your singleness, you finally kissed back, fingers running through his raven hair as you nearly got yourself off on his thigh. yet you felt nothing.

pulling away for air, he sighed dreamily. “you kiss so fuckin’ good, y’know that?”

“so i’ve been told” you laughed, before worry took over you. “where’s my best friend? i want water for her too.”

togame looked around, unsure of how to respond. “well, if it’s your best friend, i suppose i can grab another cup for ya. stay here, alright?”

he walked away and headed to the counter where they had the drinks, and a tap on your shoulder made you turn around. it was a tall, purple haired man who you’d recognize anywhere.

“name’s gen. wanna dance?”

you lazily nodded as he walked closer to you, his hand on your waist and your arms around his neck. and you smiled, because he wasn’t as forward as togame. what a relief!

your happiness came to an end when he leaned in, to which you cupped his jaw and mouthed a ‘no’ while shaking your head. your happiness returned when he nodded, apologizing for trying to kiss you in the first place. and when the dj shouted ‘where the singles ladies at’, you screamed louder than any crazed fangirl when seeing their favorite singer.

gen laughed as he nudged for you to look to your side, where there were a group of men whistling, pointing to a man with a raven bowlcut, with his friends yelling ‘he’s single!’ to you.

you giggled as you bumped into none other than togame, who had a cup in his hand. finally.

taking the cup you guided him to kotoha. if by guiding, you meant stumbling your way through people, and togame having his hands on you to make sure you don’t trip and fall. and you were grateful to reach her so quickly, because as soon as she finished her cup you got a text from your tsubaki saying she was already there to pick you both up.

you turned to the cowboy, who leaned down to kiss you deeply once more, followed by a quick peck. when he asked for your socials, he smiled.

“i’ll be honest, pretty. i know i was with other girls tonight but you were the most beautiful girl here. i’d love to get to know you more. would you like that, doll?”

you smiled, “of course! i’d love that, togame.”

and with that, you left with kotoha, with her whispering in your ear. “you’re seriously gonna meet the dude?” you laughed, “oh hell no! i don’t think he’ll text anyway.”

a day later, your phone buzzed.

jotogame: hey ☺️ do you remember me 🙈?

ynln: no 😊👍

jotogame: well that’s a shame, i would’ve loved to have gotten to know you

jotogame: you’re beautiful

ynln: thanks

jotogame: there’s something about the way your eyes looked at me, like they hypnotized me

ynln: glibness doesn’t work on me, boy

jotogame: you know i was gonna stop replying after your “thanks” but i thought you should know.

ynln: i’m truly sorry if i caused you any trouble at the party yesterday 😊 take care

jotogame: yeah i just took care of you, don’t worry

you never blocked someone so fast in your life.

taglist: @toyogamii @stunies @hayatoseyepatch @takiishiluvr @okkotsushi @maruflix @nyxypoo @littleplantfreak @vinomino

[copper-skulls]

I've been rereading Seasons of Grillster by @aeris-blue little by little and i love them so much. anyways the concept of flames catching colors of other monster's magic is very cute hfkjadhs

[mothwingwritings]

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

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

I rewrote this… so much…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mommy this one is you!”

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

“Because it looks just like you!”

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

“It has marks just like you do!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was yourself.

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

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

“What the hell is going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thelittlefirepup]

💜💜💜💖💖🎶

I want to make otherkin/therian (or alterhuman/nonhuman, whatever term y'all prefer) friends, but interacting with people is so scary and half the time I barely have the motivation to function, let alone socialize.

So...uh.........

Be my friend? Please? 🥹

(No pressure of course)

(Also, I've realized that I forgot to mention that I'm 19 since it was never relevant to this blog. So, keep that in mind before dming. <3)

[namisweatheria]

You can defend Sanji’s reasons for treating women the way he does all you want, obviously there is a clear sympathetic angle to view him from, (that I am not immune to!) but that cannot change the fact that he never consistently treats women as regular people, and that is sexist.

Being obsessed with them before knowing them based only on appearance, ignoring what they’re actually saying in favor of believing his single-minded fantasies, constantly trying to play a Prince Charming role with them, which necessarily attempts to place them in a Damsel role whether that accurately reflects their situation and personality or not, being unable to interact with them (if they’re beautiful) without flirting, attempting to invade their privacy and personal space, there’s no reason that can make any of this not sexist.

I’m also amused by how pathetic he is, I also enjoy and appreciate how he’s the butt of these jokes, I also care about the traumas that made him the way he is. I appreciate the kindness and silliness central to his character. I appreciate and enjoy his character development in one of these respects. But none of that makes his constant treatment of women not othering and grating, or compels me to defend him.

There’s this weird glamorizing of his behavior as that of a “hopeless romantic”, which is, you know, clearly true, but not an acceptable reason to treat women as differently as he does. Nor is being a traumatized misandrist who is obsessed with protecting women from the men he hates. There’s no good reason to treat an entire population as an Other the way he does. The fact that it’s a “positive” treatment doesn’t make it less sexist.

I can’t emphasis enough I’m glad there are compelling reasons that make him that way, and I often enjoy his character despite these things, but that’s not going to make me pretend he’s not sexist. I wish that people were more comfortable enjoying characters without defending them from obviously true criticism. It’s okay to love Sanji and also acknowledge he is sexist! We can do both!

[nientedal]

"Zira" "Azi" "Az" SIGHHHHHH

is anybody else irritated at the widespread fandom nicknaming of Aziraphale and fucking nobody else? is that just me? because it really feels like a "oooh [wince-hisses through teeth], no, that's too long and weird. that's too hard. i'm gonna call you This instead" situation, and i do not care for it. it pissed me off when i was writing good omens fanfic thirteen years ago and it pisses me off now. you care enough about everyone else to get their names right, all the unusual demon and angel monikers, but oh no, Aziraphale, oh that's ten whole letters, that's way too long. oh you're not gonna bother to type all that, no, his name is just Zira now.

and like, he's not real, so this super duper does not matter and isn't deeply and incredibly shitty the way it is when it's directed at real people. but it still rubs me the wrong way every time i see it. that's not his name! why is his name not good enough for you to take the time to type out the way you do for everyone else! ugh.

[teaforqne]

i hope you guys don't dislike me or find me annoying 🧍🏻

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[smoosnoom]

ten lines, ten people (rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.)

thank u so very much @pretentiouswreckingball for tagging me 🫶

10. salubrious He’s killing his mother. 

9. mike wheeler's guide to falling in love with a superhero Now, Mike wouldn’t say he was an expert in anything, besides being a massive idiot. 

8. resplendent Will is warm under his hands.

7. adulation It’s a warm, Wednesday afternoon when Mike practically climbs on top of him. 

6. need-to-snow-basis Mike, Will establishes on a Tuesday afternoon, is acting strange. 

5. compunction Mike Wheeler knows he’s a bad person. 

4. your mute inquiry There’s a life we’re all – We’re working towards a life we can’t taste, and we’re dying to – We’re all dying, and we’re all starving, and salvation isn’t coming, and there’s no one to save us, and – There’s – There is a –

3. love me on purpose December is freezing.

2. where we lay our scene Neil would like to say he’s a pretty decent fellow. 

1. cleaving Will wants to say he hates Hawkins. 

tagging @byeler @parkitaco @light-lanterne @miwism @boycattj @itsromeowrites @willelfanpage @elekinetic @andiwriteordie @etchedstars (with no intended obligation) :)

[moongothic]

I'm a simple person

I see untagged Crocodile genderbends, I block on sight

[peridots-pixiwolf]

woe! first art post since a month ago be upon ye! take my gay bugs

[Start ID of the first image. A digital drawing of the five bugs forming Team Taranoake, drawn without anthropomorphized biology, short clips of text describing each one's name, pronouns, species, and size. The background is a solid-color pale orange, with the rest of the drawing being similarly flat-colored and golden-toned. The first shows Kritto, an azure damselfly, who stands on two legs with short stilts to counter the length of xer abdomen. She's light teal with black stripes, holding a brown scroll in one claw, the other pair of arms tucked between her two backpacks behind xer. Next is Lidii, a worker of the ant species Myrmecocystus mexicanus, yellow and orange. She's rambling about something excitedly, just barely propping up the thick wooden weapon beside her. Third is Rantan, an ox beetle, brown with yellow fur. He subjects himself to whatever Lidii's talking about, sitting with all six limbs on the ground and a mildly tired expression, resting their head on one claw. Gorge, a light purple coquina clam, is settled beneath two of Rantan's legs, his shell decorated with small notes and scribbles from work as an archivist. Last is the sea slug Ceras, a single-stalk aeolis, pink with bright stripes of yellow and white along their cerata. She's drawn further away from the rest, his head turned back towards the other four bugs. Like Kritto, they're marked as an honorary member of the team, lacking the seaglass bracelets shared by the three close-knit bugs from the center of the drawing. End ID.]

^ once again, these guys are from a universe I made with @froggoexists :]

[Start ID of the second image. A colored sketch of two humanized original characters, Ceras, a sea slug from the previous image, and Thorn, a Hollow Knight vessel. They're both drawn from the waist up, facing forward, close enough that Ceras's hand wraps around Thorn's shoulder. Ceras is shown as a young Black person, their cerata incorporated as long locs dyed pink, white and yellow, and piercings stud their ears and tongue. Thorn is paler-skinned, taller and thinner than Ceras, with pointed ears, and white hair styled at the top into two rows of spikes. Ceras is wearing a studded denim vest, thoroughly decorated with eclectic pins and patches, mostly of bands, bugs, games, and simple declarations of hope. Thorn wears instead a black leather jacket, with long studs at the shoulders and smaller ones along the sides and center. One sleeve is torn off, as they don't have a right arm, and the other is cuffed to display the adaptive device making up half their left. Ceras is sticking their tongue out and smiling, one eye shut and the other turned to Thorn, stimming with their free hand. Thorn's looking back at them with a smile.

The background is simple, a pink horizontal wave. There's a bright, pale halo behind Ceras' head, one which resembles a spoked wheel or a sun, seeming to cast light upon the two of them. A line at the bottom of the image reads "part-god mute disabled they/she/he bug punk BESTIES", and at the top of the image there's a small doodle of their original forms sitting together contentedly. End ID]

[turtlecleric]

.

[diltonsstrangescience]

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

...

[mysicklove]

i saw this tiktok where someone was basically bashing a “standard american” barista for forcing small talk bc they only want tips, but i do something similar (but not forced) and it’s not for tips it’s bc i genuinely like talking to people 😔😔

[exx-bee]

I have been Too Excited to keep this secret and am now going 2 share a wip that im super proud of and have been working on ;-D

doodles under tha read more :-3