#thats an abusive parent

[dog-bonezzzz]

I'm going to be so fr with you, I understand the sentiment but william afton will never be the grief stricken father so many people want him to be.

But is the second part of this post fucking hilarious? Holy shit yes. (Look at his beautiful family, these are his babies, I know youre bleeding out but admire them now, Please and thank you.)

But he never was, never has been, and never will be morally gray father who just wants his kids back.

I understand that you might be talking about changing the canon to be like that, but people in the tags HOOWEE i have to wonder if theyve ever actually looked at how he treats his kids.

Anyways read the tags on this reblog if you read this please.

The idea of William Afton genuinely loving his children is so much more interesting to me than the alternative, not just because it's more tragic and makes his motivations make more sense, but also because it's fucking hilarious.

You are about to be obliterated from this Earth by a six-foot-something zombie rabbit, and your last moments are spent terrified and deeply confused as he shows you pictures of his kids in a blood-stained wallet: a clearly haunted bear costume, a limitlessly unnerving chrome clown doll, and what looks like Grimace's corpse left to shrivel in the sun.

[hajihiko]

It runs in the family

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[angel-cryptid]

movies where neglectful parents learn to appreciate their kids ❌

movies where neglectful parents die ✔️

[furiousgoldfish]

me as a child: looks unwell, sick or injured

my parents: absolute rage at my nerve to look like I need attention, immediate shaming and blaming me for being unwell/sick/injured with the added implication that I did this to myself on purpose specifically to ruin their life

[paingoes]

Rubies - Trial III

the prosecution makes its argument

(Content: living weapon whumpee, past trauma, referenced child abuse, referenced caning, past emotional abuse, war, guilt, parental death mention, child death mention, emotional whump, crying, angst, comfort)

In the Emperor’s quarters, the dead far outnumbered the living. Delta knelt upon the bearskin run and ran his fingers through its thick white fur. He wanted to reach for the mouth of it, to feel the teeth, but he dared not move without permission. The fresh cane marks along his calves made sure of that.

“Here, boy.”

The Emperor had taken to calling him boy, which he found strange and overfamiliar. To his handlers, he had always been One-Oh-Seven. More and more, it has simply been Delta. There was no need for numeration when there were no others.

He rose up off of the carpet, taking silent steps until he stood in front of the weary form of the old man. 

The doctor was nowhere to be seen. For this, he was grateful.

A hand heavy with time and with rings pressed against his forehead. Did he look sick? He didn’t mean to. The Emperor would find no fever there, at any rate. Delta ran cold.

“Are the stars all in alignment tonight, poppet?” He withdrew his hand. “Will today be a good day?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

There was no gap in between their words. There was no hesitation. He would be punished for lying just as quickly as for failing, so he was careful not to lie. Of course today would be a good day. 

Delta was excellent.

But the Emperor still searched him. It was not illness he had sensed. 

“Is everything alright?”

The concern in his voice only made the sting worse. Delta looked down in shame.

It was sullenness. That was all. He was cold all over, soaked with shame. It was bad, he knew. He was supposed to take all punishment without complaint, but Delta so seldom needed correction. It hurt all the more when it did come. He couldn’t get the chill of it to leave him. He’d been torn into. 

Unfit, the doctor had said. Unworthy of the privilege. Disgraceful.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Delta responded, the shame of it deepening. He hadn’t meant to sulk about it. He was only proving their point.

There was nothing wrong with his ability to perform, which is all the Emperor had really been asking. A little emotional hurt had never impacted his powers before — thank god for that. Today would be no exception.

With that, the Emperor rose up. Delta followed a half-step behind him. He was getting on in age. It was never hard to keep up.

They walked all the way past the war room, out onto the deck of the ship. The air was thin in the upper atmosphere, but it was getting more bearable upon the descent. There were a collection of advisors and generals gathered about by the railing. Delta kept his head bowed respectfully, careful not to look them dead on. With the Emperor there, he knew they wouldn’t dare touch him. But it was a deeply ingrained habit and one he saw no reason to break.

There was a pressure at his shoulder. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only scared him worse. He could see the target below. Its perimeter was painted in a pale orange color.

They wanted showy this time.

Space was made around him as they clicked the collar off of his neck. He closed his eyes. The light was painful. All the hearts beating so close were distracting. 

Disgraceful. He felt the sting of fear in his chest and prickling at his eyes. It was going to hurt. He was getting frigid in a way he hadn’t before. He didn’t want to be hurt.

He zeroed in on the target anyway, visualizing its delimitation among the pale. He wished they’d given him something to hold onto. All he had now were his own hands and his nails cutting indents into the palms. Showy. The world snapped as the target was turned to dust.

The collar clicked back on. Blood was already pooling in his throat and in his sinuses. The migraine aura descended. He swayed, but not fall. The Emperor’s hand steadied him there. It moved calming circles into his back. He heard the applause, but to him it sounded miles away.

“Incredible.” The Emperor had whispered into his ear. “You were wonderful.”

And like that, he was glowing. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t supposed to feel a thing, but the warmth of the praise made itself at home in him. It was the only time he let himself feel anything close to pride — and he could have lived in its light. It was almost worth it. He felt sick enough to die and it was almost worth it.

~~~~~~

Silas placed the blank sheet of paper down onto the desk and slid it towards him. His expression was grim.

“I want you to write down every target you can remember hitting. Names and dates. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

The room was small and dark, not much bigger than a broom closet. Maryam sat beside him at the table. He had a legal right to keep her there — and thought he had not asked her to, she volunteered to accompany him. 

Delta rocked his leg a little as he felt at the rough graphite of the pencil.

He took the order for what it was. He had a good sense for it. There were some things he struggled to remember, but in general, his memory was better than most. He had been allowed no distractions. He’d had no choice but to focus in.

He started with the earlier days of his imperial career — the battleship he’d crushed on the water, the first show of strength before the purchase was made. And then there was all that came after. He was never told until the day of what he would be after, but he remembered them all the same.

Marisol

Pyrha

Holliday

Basalt

Clover

Killian

Versus

He wrote mechanically, appending the dates as best as he could. He’d already made up this list in his mind several times. He’d have offered it to Levon if things had gone differently, but as it stood, he’d never been given the chance.

Regina

Ursa

Deidra

Anatol

Timber

Jocobe

Weissan

He soon ran out of space on the page. He write in a smaller script around the margins.

“That’s enough,” Maryam said, eyeing the prosecutor nervously. Delta kept writing.

“You can stop now,” Silas agreed, reaching to take the paper back.

“I’m not done,” Delta snapped. 

He recoiled just as soon as he’d said it. He didn’t know where he’d gotten the nerve to speak like that, to talk back at all, and especially not to them. He dropped the pencil and drew back into the chair, fully expecting to get smacked in the mouth, bare minimum. 

The hit didn’t come. Silas took the paper and examined it without much reaction. It was a long list — and that was only with the Emperor. He hadn’t even gotten to Paris yet.

“Can I ask you something? For my own curiosity?” Silas said.

Delta looked up at him.

“About how far away from the target are you when activated?”

“…A mile, sir.” Delta tapped at the chair.

He nodded. “What’s the closest you’ve ever been to someone you’ve killed?”

He heard Maryam scoff beside him, but he thought it was a fair question, if an abrupt one. He had to think about it for a second. As the answer came to him, he felt the shock of ocean water, stealing just as much breath from him as it had the first time.

He held his hands up to demonstrate, having no other way to quantify the distance. Right up against his body. He’d garroted him, wrapped the chains around his neck and held him there. The water had done the rest. He hadn’t even used his powers.

“Daniel Martino,” he answered quietly, “The same night I got picked up.”

It was his most recent kill  — and if Levon’s word was anything to believe in, it would be the last. 

He hadn’t told anyone about it until now.

“Your handler?” Silas asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Silas and Maryam exchanged a look he could not read.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t fault you for that.” Silas folded the paper into his pocket.

The clemency caught him off guard. Delta looked down, embarrassed all the same.

~

The shades were drawn in the conference room. It was a stormy day outside — Delta could imagine how the static might’ve felt on his skin had he been out there. For now, all he could do was imagine it.

“Delta,” the prosecutor drew his attention back, “I asked you a question.”

Silas was sharper with him when there was a crowd. He was familiar with this tactic. It didn’t register to him as a surprise, only as a kind of dull pain.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Delta said weakly, but sincerely. “…Could you repeat it, please?”

He usually would not have been bold enough to make requests, but then he usually wouldn’t have zoned out in the first place.

“Were the accounts of lateral violence within the Institute true?” He asked, then clarified: “Were the students there encouraged to hurt one another?” 

“Yes, sir.” Delta closed his eyes. He did not need to guess the next question.

“Did you ever use your powers to injure the other students?”

Not because he wanted to. He didn’t know if he was allowed to answer with that. It had been a yes-or-no question — and his handlers had gotten mad whenever he tried to explain himself around it. He didn’t know if the same rules would apply here.

“Yes, sir.”

He caught the concerned looks of the others at the conference table. The council members had shown him no scorn so far, in spite of everything. He dreaded losing it. But in his mind, it was an inevitability. He couldn’t make himself look back.

“Did you ever kill any of them?”

It wasn’t the same as injuring. The administration had loved to use him as a threat long before he was in the imperial service. He’d always be the first they brought out they sent to scare the others into submission. After the first few times — cracked ribs, broken arms, and painful shocks — any actual violence wasn’t needed. The threat alone was enough.

That wasn’t the same as killing. While the punishment had been painful, the kills were quick. Those were for safety alone. Nobody ever died as a punishment. They died because they were about to kill everyone else.

It’d been a yes-or-no question. The answer was yes, obviously.

“Yes, sir.” 

He kept his eyes down. Kitty shifted a bit to his left. He didn’t want to see the way her face changed when she found out.

Silas ended his line of questioning. The lights dimmed further as the video began to play.

PYRHA 08

SOL 07

The caption showed against the grainy white backdrop. He could see the town in his mind before it was shown on the screen. It was before the disaster. Jade was pushed up into the edges of the home. All their streets were still cobblestone. From above, as he had seen it, the town looked to be built into a crescent moon shape. The blue tops of buildings stood out against the pale sand.

“…There was this burning, endless light…”

The voiceover played over still frames of the cloud. The images clipped together in animation. He saw the tip of the airship approaching the edge of the sky.

Whoever had produced the documentary had no knowledge of the cause. How could they? It was a superweapon, they were sure, but how could they have known what? 

All they could do was to quantify it. The ground temperature had reached the same peak as the sun. The duration lasted ten to fifteen seconds — 12.945 seconds, Delta corrected in his mind. There’d been no warning. 2,031 people had died. About five hundred families.

The focus was the math — and more than that, the footage. Few of his attacks had ever been so well documented. But almost as an aside, they had spoken to some of the eye witnesses.

A girl with chestnut brown hair smiled sadly into the camera as she held up the picture. The image quality changed again as a video from inside her house began to play. He could not tell if she was the infant or the child holding onto it inside the cedar living room. The camera shifted angles to capture their mother grinning on the couch, clapping along to the silent song. 

There was some primordial ache in him that would not sleep. It’d always burned too hot. After the first few times, he’d learned not to touch it.

He felt it burning now, pressed up against his skin with no escape.

“And my friends always made fun of me for being such a townie, because I had to ride the bus two hours just to get to school,” the girl chirped softly, “And I remember that morning, my mom telling me not to stay too long after classes. She wanted me to come straight home that day because-“

Her voice broke. 

“Because we were going to go out as a family.”

The clip cut away to the moment the sky tore open.

Delta stood up before he knew what he was doing. He stumbled blindly away from the table, pushing out into the hall.

He’d taken her parents from her. Ripped her away from them, the same way he’d been ripped away from his own. The loss cut through him sharper than he could ever remember. 

He was crying. He couldn’t stop it. The sorrow and fear enveloped him in equal measures. He’d walked out. He hadn’t been dismissed, he’d never walked out like that in all his life. But he couldn’t stand to hear anymore. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

He wanted his mom. It was silly. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She clearly hadn’t wanted him.

“Delta?” Levon called after him. He stopped dead. He was recall trained — he wouldn’t dare move farther. But he couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He didn’t think he could.

He sank to the floor instead. He tried to hide his tears, but his body shook from the effort. He was still good about being quiet when he was hurt. He was trying very hard to be good about it.

A soft sob escaped him anyway. Levon bent down onto the floor beside him.

“That was too far. I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.” Levon placed one hand lightly onto his shoulderblade. His thumb worked over the knots that had formed there, so bound up and painful.

“I’m sorry,” Delta said. It was always the first thing to come out of his mouth these days, no matter how much they tried to correct it. 

He remembered how young he was at the time. He remembered how proud he’d been.

“I didn’t know,” Delta said through tears, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know, baby,” Levon’s voice got quiet. It didn’t echo. No one else could have heard. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Then, even quieter, the admission: “It’s not your fault.”

Delta sobbed into his sleeve, leaning over so that his face almost touched the ground. He wished he could stop it. It was taking everything out of him.

He felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. It was an invitation. He accepted it before he could stop himself, too desperate for any semblance of comfort. Levon pulled him into the hug. His cries grew muffled as he hid his face in the fabric of the shirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Levon said, the pain audible in his voice. He carded his hands through the boy’s hair, doing all he could to soothe him.

“I didn’t mean to,” came the soft whine in response.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @dietofwormsofficial @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

[imagine-to-be-a-pike]

Me when he has an abusive parent,Whom he wants to impress,good at fighting ,went from a soft child to an asshole golden child but he's still like a child in the fog sometimes, probably neurodivergent,had a sister,likes men and his name starts with A

[yuridovewing]

what i will always, alwaysss hate about the crowfeather discourse is how it got several people, even some people who i thought would know better than to spread such harmful rhetoric, to get up on their soapbox and say with their whole chest "child neglect is not abusive, breezepelt should get the fuck over it"

[batcavescolony]

Why do people keep saying they want Agatha to adopt Billy or that Billy is a motherless child or that Agatha is Billy's new mom.... Y'all he says Rebecca is his mom, canonically in the show. Agatha isn't his mom.

[bananasfosterparent]

An anti-AA account posted a comment akin to "I'm tired of the fandom being taken over by sex pests who are obsessed with abusive relationships" in response to the AA kisses being optimized for evil route roleplayers. They were implying that we "bullied" Larian into "changing the narrative they created". (which is a whole other rant post on its own lol). And some others agreed.

Is... is this really how they see us? lmao

I am just baffled because so many loud Anti-AA people are:

constantly going on and on about how it's supposed to be an abusive relationship

constantly reminding AA fans of all the abuse AA supposedly does

writing fanfiction and drawing comics showcasing AA as an abusive partner to Tav/Durge

making absolute statements that AA is locked out of healing and only able to treat Tav abusively

making absolute statements that everything good AA says is narcissistic lovebombing and only everything bad he says (after Tav insults him) is to be taken as truth

only ascending him to get AA romance scene screenshots (with an "I hate AA but..." disclaimer usually attached).

thirsting after AA's romance scenes in general while condemning actually playing/enjoying the ending as a whole because... *drum roll* abuse.

brigading Larian on their Discord with messages to "protect their narrative" to drown out AA fans just asking for rp-friendly animations.

AND YET....AA fans--who actively avoid and reject the abuse narrative headcanon and enjoy AA as a whole and not just for the sexiness--are apparently the sex pests, obsessed with abusive relationships. Out of all the AA stories, comics, and things I've consumed from AA fans, none of it ever seems to include the abuse narrative or glorifing him solely for sexual reasons.

Huh...

[homeofhousechickens]

If you live in Texas please remember to never take your horses or other animals to the vets at Texas A&M because a vet has been allowed to continue working there despite multiple instances of HORRIFIC animal treatment and torture that the people there ALLOWED to happen.

The hearing for her veterinary license started yesterday but I do not know if she is going to be allowed to keep her license.

Links for proof. Big content warnings for animal abuse and negligence on the other people working there.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1KVT2W5oDDt58iMJUpjQeMmTSTzTuHh81/view

https://www.kbtx.com/2021/10/26/texas-am-equine-veterinarian-indicted-animal-cruelty-charge/

(Below is about a different previous case)

https://www.fordazzle.com/the-lawsuit

[sandinmybed]

can i be fr for a minute?? sending abuse to people online for holding different views than you is not activism and in fact actively hurts your cause. most people are not extreme in their viewpoints, you can give them a new perspective if you're willing to spend some time explaining shit. if someone is saying something you disagree with and you rush in there to condescend to them and call them disgusting and subhuman and dont even TRY to explain calmly why their views are harmful, they're going to shut you out instantly and double down on their views.

most people are simply genuinely ignorant to the issues they're talking about - they just pick their views up from the news and the world around them and express opinions because that's what every person does. if you run in there and tell them they're scum for it, what then? if someone does that to you, are you going to think "maybe i should do some research" or are you going to think "this person is an asshole, im blocking them." a lot of you think you're activists and then refuse to do any kind of actual WORK to support your cause.

[ceasarslegion]

No i dont think its a good thing to make hating children your entire personality but can i please just say that i dont like them and dont want to deal with screaming temper tantrums and meltdowns from other peoples kids (especially, ESPECIALLY when the parents are absolutely useless in dealing with them) without 30,000 people crawling out of the woodwork to assume that i think all kids should die

[dairyfreenugget]

(Alt text under read more)

I think "one or more of them is in danger or almost fucking dies, in the process discovering their child's impurity, and then after a lot of emotional turmoil they just pass the fuck out the second they're safe and calm again thanks to the awful, exhausting day they've had" is a scenario I write weirdly often for this messy as hell family

Anyway. Family cuddles. My babygirl is exhausted and deserves to be held for once

ID start: A black and white doodle of the Pale King, White Lady, and Pure Vessel from Hollow Knight as humans. The three of them are covered in bruises and scratches. They're sleeping in a pile of blankets with the Pure Vessel tucked in between their parents, with only their face showing. The Pale King is hugging them with both sets of his arms, his face buried in their hair, while the White Lady lays beside them with her arm drapped over the both of them and roots coiling around them. End ID.

[storm-of-feathers]

i hope parents who make cleaning a punishment and/or scream at their children for not cleaning "right" know that they only set their children up for failure when it comes to being able to routinely clean.

[excalumbras]

yk smth i just realized?? during the "blessed are the peacemakers" mission, arthur had told micah & dutch where to meet up if things went south w the deal w colm odriscoll. he told them & things did go south as hosea thought it would... but neither micah nor dutch nor anyone in that camp had ever thought to search for arthur after a dangerous plan that went wrong—

he was gone from the camp for three (3) days... & no one looked for him after such a bad mission but when trelawney told dutch that he thought sean was captured by bounty hunters dutch immediately sprung into action—he left his son to potentially die for three fucking days at the hands of his sworn enemy when he could have done something...

arthur's last words to him were quite literally a fucking warning—"let us meet up at this exact place at the exact time after throwing the o'driscolls off of our trails" more or less—and yet... dutch did nothing. didnt even search for him. while yeah arthur is a wanderer who loves to stay out of the camp for long periods of time... he doesnt do that after bad plans (or at least i dont think so—my memory is shitty so correct me on this). he doesnt do that after missions go south fast.

and he certainly doesnt do it after a bad plan involving a notoriously vicious gang.

AND THIS IS ALL HAPPENED IN FUCKING. CHAPTER TWO. THE BEGINNING OF THE GAME... dutch had stopped caring abt arthur as a person (not as a weapon tho, theres a distinction between those two—he wants arthur as a gun, as an enforcer, not as a person w his own thoughts) since the beginning of the fucking game or else he would have sent ppl or even just trelawney to search for him the same way he did with sean.

but no. he just left him to the o'driscolls to torture... for three fucking days—(head in hands) (deep breaths) he never even thought about arthur... meanwhile arthur dragged his dehydrated, starved, broken, bruised, beaten body across miles on bare horseback just to warn dutch... & he never cared to search for the man he raised since he took him in at 14yo. he never tried to.

hell i'll even say that dutch van der linde stopped caring abt the gang since blackwater. since micah joined.