#child abuse mention cw

[real-total-drama-takes]

Sometimes I look at something that was put in the show like “wow that’s insane of them to put in there” and then I remember that the writers do not take this show seriously at all and that was supposed to be a haha funny joke and I feel cringe because I saw it as a serious character moment when that’s not what that was

What do you mean Duncan’s dad said “actually do we even love you?” that’s fucking evil and a horrible thing to say to your kid and it hurts me every time I think about it but that’s just supposed to be an unserious moment and a joke I’m gonna ARRRGH

Being normal about this show is unfortunately not an option for me I fear

-📺

[santuxrio]

Plotted starter with @eternalstarlights - for Phantasos

Vittorio was somewhat surprised by the fact it was quite easy, to both distract that guy and get away from them. He knew they were headed to Sicilly, at the extreme southern region of this land. However, not much else had been explained to him. That figure had appeared out of nowhere one night, spared him from his ██████'s punishment, only for him to be taken away from his home. There was a lot to process but, as a child it was unlikely he would even be capable of making much of any sense about it.

Case in point: although he was getting away from them, the boy had no sense of direction whatsoever. In a matter of a few minutes, he found himself completely lost, in a place that he didn't quite remember passing by.

Was he even truly distancing himself from that figure to begin with?

The little boy dorned a golden armwrist, a sign of him being an appendix, for a high rank within Athena's army. That item might look odd on a boy, that seemed to wear scraps for clothes.

Ever since he was found by them, he had become a lot more perceptive to other things. Almost as if, something within him had been awakened. While walking, he noticed his surroundings had seemingly become far too quiet. He swears picking up on a few faint noises here and there, while following that entity. But now? There was nothing, as if life had been driven away from there.

Much to his dismay, the boy would come to learn the reason for it. His eyes shot widely up at what appeared to be signs of a battle: broken branches, entire chunks of tree trunks missing, as the dust had just seemingly settled. However, the boy couldn't have possibly done the worst judgement call, for he had just wandered into real danger.

It happened so quickly, suddenly noises had returned, however he couldn't tell where they came from.

[monterraverde]

Rikas a study on:

Recovering from abuse

Being forced to grow up too fast

Losing a parent to illness

Raising a sibling

Managing Grief, Trauma, Depression, Autism and ADHD

Moving on

Learning to love ones self despite ones scars

Taking back autonomy

Setting boundaries and standing up for ones self

[the8thsphynx]

Honestly it’s funny af having that shocked reaction as an abused child towards those goofy and loving videos of people with their parents bc like wtfdym I’m baffled by people not being terrified at all times to be perceived by their own caretaker??

[jaymber]

The Old Selves

Timeline 20151 - Protagonist : V Temarii

V agreed to affiliate himself to the FIA, to save Songbird only. The little metallic coin didn't seem like much to him, and he didn't know there was an oath attached to it. Despite being born on NUSA soil, V never felt American, so why kneel for a country that couldn't have cared less about his? He felt his opinion pleased Johnny, yet it seemed Dogtown was reopening a wound within the engram. V could tell that the turmoil twisting their guts didn't come from him. Whatever the town reminded Johnny of, V couldn't see it. His memories were nothing but old static. It didn't take long for the engram to come clean, open up. V wondered how many people knew of Johnny the deserter, of Robert. Kid had to snuff it, he said, and those words echoed within the host. "I get that. Sometimes, you get no choice but flatlining your old self. Mercy killing, frankly." "You and I aren't the same, V. Robert John Linder definitely croaked, but you... Little V's still haunting you," he said, referring to his breakdown when they had rescued Evelyn. V ticked, and Johnny took the chance to switch subjects, make himself seen as the stronger, wiser one of the two, "Couldn't get enough of those big meaty carrots, or did you forget to run when came the stick, rabbit?" The filthy image crossed their mind, and V sighed in disgust. Johnny didn't know, didn't stumble upon the worst of his memories just yet. "Putain! I wasn't a joytoy, Johnny. I was eight. Had nowhere to run to. No home, no family. Nothing. Couldn't even ask for help, je savais pas les mots." His words sent a cold shiver through their spine. He could hear the clogs in Johnny's brain running, trying to get the last word without knowing what to say. He felt almost glad to feel the cold barrel of a gun dig into his ribcage, a good excuse to escape this difficult conversation.

[conduitandconjurer]

What is your earliest memory?

"Um.....lights...? A light. I was always uncomfortable in the dark, like...even before the whole...lovely...mausoleum training b-s. I dunno if it was when I was still an infant--can people remember shit that early?--and my mom lighting some kinda Amish oil lamp, or if it was just like a battery lantern in a city blackout...I just remember bein' so focused on the light. I remember the surface was smooth an' not hot just yet, and I could even make out the little...individual specks of dust. It felt so warm. There was a woman's voice, not scolding exactly, just like saying...'don't look at that too long...!'" I dunno if it was my m...if it was Rachel Hershberger, or just Grace. It was nice, though. Ghosts might've been there, but back then, I think I thought they were just fun imaginary friends."

[dogtccth]

Thinking about how Roman was raised in wealth but doesn't really act like it.

He acts more like new money showing off his wealth through clothes and the things he can attain and decorates his apartment with (that of which is decorated in a very modern way aside from the artifacts in it). I like to think he rejects old money traditions/behavior because that's what his parents are and that's what they always tried to push on him and he never understood it and got in trouble a lot as kid with them for that.

The only habits he really attained from his parents were always in the presenting your best self aspect which is why he always feels like he needs to look good. He got hit as a kid for questioning that.

It's why he's always dressed up but he also does that in a non traditional/flamboyant way he knows his parents (his dad specifically) wouldn't exactly approve of. (Like he never wears a tie with his suits or wears t-shirts under them instead of button downs, wears loud and bold colors/patterns ect.)

He doesn't really speak 'proper' either. He curses in like every other sentence and will cut words down. In some of the comics I've seen him even have what I'm going to say is probably a bit of a jersey accent.

He probably felt more comfortable with staff around the house and regular blue collar people in Gotham and picked up talking like them and always felt more comfortable around them over other rich people because he can tell when they were being fake... but he still sees himself as above the average joe (don't get it twisted). He'll occasionally use some flowery language to show off because he is still a bit of a snob and will correct people if they use words/pronounce them wrong (like he does with Victor) because sometimes he does feel like people look down on him as dumb if he doesn't remind them he's not.

[isaacapatow]

with @clintbennet | the prom : the roads to addiction converge in redwood

ike apatow: -as much as ike's exhilarated by crowds and parties, everyone needs a breather, and he spots somebody who might need the same thing, making his way over to Clint- Hey there, bayou -- feel like talking a stroll with me to recharge? That corner of the garden's nice. There's little flowers I don't know the name of but they taste good if you eat 'em and nobody's looking.

Clint Bennet: -Brows raise over his cup as he takes a sip and notices Ike approaching him. He laughs into the whiskey at the nickname Ike gave him.- What, yer batteries runnin' low already?  -He teased, lowering the cup and letting it hang from his fingertips at his side as he approached ready to join him. His head cocks at the description of the flower- Is Mayra growin' honeysuckle in there? * -He guessed-*

ike apatow: Beats me. Maybe you can identify it for me. -Ike lifts his chin to point in the direction- These things are fun but I'm a little, ah ... contentious. Sometimes. With some folks.

Clint Bennet: I can try, but I'll probably git it wrong. -He admits, walking beside Ike to their destination. He takes a seat on the edge of one of the raised beds.- Really? -He questions, surprise in his voice.- Hard t'imagine anyone ruffling yer feathers, bossman.

ike apatow: -he tongues at the still-raw bite that Lucien had left on the inside of his bottom lip, tasting the blood there- You'll learn that about me, Clint -- I can piss off even the mildest dove. It's a gift. Maybe a gag gift, but a gift.

Clint Bennet: -He eyes the other noticing the unease about him.-Don't doubt that. I like you, but I can see ya bein' an acquired taste. -another small sip- M'surprise is you bein' bothered, not you botherin' others. Can't imagine anyone gittin' under that skin of yers.

ike apatow: Do I seem that way? Like I don't care what people think?

Clint Bennet: Carin' n' lettin it git t'you are two different things. I think you care, I just didn't think it would cause ya stress. Does it cause you stress?

ike apatow: -regards Clint for a few moments, a slight smile on his lips- I think it does cause me stress, yeah. Any guesses as to why?

Clint Bennet: -Watches the other, his question leaves him perplexed. A million different reasons pass through his mind but none of them seem to fit Ike. He gives a shrug of his shoulders in defeat.- 'm learnin' everythin' I assume about ya couldn't be further from th' truth. Why don't ya just tell me why.

ike apatow: -shrugs back, a little slumped and slow- I dunno, kid. Right now I feel like I can't trust my own perception of myself much.

Clint Bennet: -rests his forearms on his knees, not used to seeing the other man like this, he almost seems defeated in himself. He's not used to seeing this larger than life man so down, Clint's expression becomes serious, brows knit together in concern for the other.- What's yer perception of yerself now?

ike apatow: -a little sharply- I just fucking said I don't ... -he catches himself, with a slightly apologetic twitch of his mouth at Clint- I would drag you to the pond and hold you under for a rail of coke right at this moment.

Clint Bennet: -Lips formed a thin line at Ike's sudden sharp reaction at first but quicky relaxed. Despite his words, Clint didn't take Ike's words personally. In fact he breathed out a small laugh out of his nose at the thought of Ike holding him under the water.- That would be worth more than coke, let's make it horse instead. -He stands- I feel like ya need more space than this, I can't hear shit n' I can still hear th'bass of th'music. Unless y'wanna eat some flowers, do ya wanna go somewhere else... Maybe not near th'lake right now.

ike apatow: -nods, without much opposition- Sure. -his curiosity does spike a little through the other stuff, the prospect of Clint deciding what they should do or where they should go- You have somewheres you wanna take me?

Clint Bennet: -he thinks about it for a moment-Not anyplace in particular. Know that when I need space, walkin' helps, otherwise I feel trapped. Unfortunately our space is a lil limited, but laps exist fer a reason.* -He glances over to the other-* Y'sound like y'got a lot on yer mind. Know in yer past y'were used t'the tables bein�� turned, but I wanna help, if ya wanna git it out, I'll listen.

ike apatow: No, I'm ... -gestures vaguely as they start to walk- Not good at just talking. I'm good at answering. I know, that sounds ridiculous, given what I'm like, but it's true.

Clint Bennet: 'snot ridiculous. It makes sense, keeps focus. -He responds before he glances up trying to think of a question to ask, getting right into it might be a little too much, start from the start, the first thing that got him upset in the first place- Y'said there were folks y'weren't gettin' along with. What about 'em is stressin' you out?

ike apatow: -grunts in assent to this, finding it a good question- The fact that they don't bother to do the work in figuring shit out on their own, I guess. Even when I'm the one who got hurt, they're asking me how they should fix things.

Clint Bennet: -he watches and tries to process Ike's words- So, yer frustrated with them. 's more work on you havin' t'solve the problem they caused, yer feein' lik y'gotta think through that instead of them bein' able t'figure it out n'  think things through. Does it feel like a burden?

ike apatow: Yeah. It feels like a burden and I don't think a lot of people understand how many burdens I got strapped on me at any given time. -gives Clint a cockeyed grin, though it's weary- I make it all look easy.

Clint Bennet: -gives a sad but understanding nod to the other. It makes sense, even he fell into that category with the man.- Y'got a ton on yer plate, riskin life 'n limb fer some canned goods, medicine, things th' community needs fer survival, n'keepin' the other raiders safe. -He confirms- Do y'think you gotta make it all look easy? Fer th'sake of others?

ike apatow: -shakes his head slightly- I think you got a calling in this. Ever think about it? Counselling? -but he can't stall too long and goes back to it, hemming and hawing- It's best if people don't know how hard it is, and what we risk out there. I know everyone's aware of the danger but I don't know how much they'd want us doing what we do if they had a full awareness of what it takes. -grins, of the shit-eating variety- Except me. There's plenty of people here don't care how much I take a lickin'.

Clint Bennet: -he huffs out a laugh, giving his own shake of his head.- Naw, don't think I'm even keeled enough fer that. But you, I think you n' I have enough in common t'understand each other. It's too easy fer us t'get stuck in our own heads. -He stops, watching the other carefully to try and actively catch every word that passes his lips-  Protecting them from th'risks you n' th'others take every time y'go out fer supplies. -Clint might have been more familiar with it than most, working outside security and being on the other side of those walls for so long, he could see how others would lose perspective- Aren't there also plenty a' people that do care when y'get hurt?

ike apatow: Some. I'm not discounting them. They mean a lot to me. -he gnaws on the inside of his bottom lip, inadvertently reopening the marks of Lucien's teeth- Sometimes I think I'm not meant to be here. I don't mean that in, uh, a self-pitying way, or like I'm thinking of offing myself, it's just ... I have misshapen edges. Heroin always smoothed those for me. -eyes Clint for a minute- Y'know what I mean? You know what I mean.

Clint Bennet: I know what you mean... -Clint confirms simply, Ike's words hitting deep within his chest- I don't know how things were fer you... But I remember wanting every hit t'be my last... N' not in th'gettin' clean way either... I wanted t'go out feelin' at peace in whatever form that came, but th'next day, Id be down from th'high and life would hit me like a ton of bricks again up until th'point I got my next hit. -He takes a slow shaky breath-  Th'drugs helped us feel like we were normal... But they're gone now, they're not comin' back, meanin' we're just stuck havin' t'deal with th'shit and everything that comes with it...-His eyes meet Ike's-People are unpredictable, difficult, our edges don't fit 95% of the time, but it doesn't mean you don't fit. You give yer blood, sweat, and tears t'the people here, you don't always have t'pretend like y'don't, that's a dark secret t'hide.

ike apatow: -he sticks his tongue into the corner of his lips, staring thoughtfully at Clint, and then steps closer and pushes his hand into Clint's shaggy hair- You were wrong, When we went on that raid and you told me this stuff about yourself, you made it sound like you hardly understood why you'd gotten hooked, why you were using. But you do, kid. You understand a helluva lot more clearly than I think you understand. -clenches his hand some, tightening his fist in Clint's hair- I don't think I can change anything about this, not for me. And even though I still think about using, I've been clean a long time. It's ongoing but it's not everyday, it's not in spitting distance. You can do better than me. You don't have to have any dark secrets. You shouldn't. -his voice has gotten more and more urgent, darker, intent, matching the look in his eyes-

Clint Bennet: -There seemed to be a moment of calm, Ike stepped closer and Clint didn't understand the reason why, thought maybe there were good intentions, but in the blink of an eye, Ikes fingers were tangled in his hair. He didn't know how to take it, eyes widened in confusion and a touch of fear.- I know why I used. Knew back then too. -There was an attempt to step back but Ike had him firmly in place, stopping him.-Didn't know you from Adam back then--His breath catches in his throat as Ike tightens his grip, pulling at his scalp, but he doesn't raise a hand towards the other, couldn't bring himself to do it.- Why don't  you think y'can change anything fer yerself? What's different this time? -Eyes search the others, recognizing that haze of darkness that brought him back to his childhood- Y'wanna know m'darkest secrets? -He questions through gritted teeth, bringing his hand to the upper arm of the other. Everything in his body told him to stop but part of him only knew it was fair. Ike had shown him a lot of trust and hadn't taken advantage of him, he had shared his own struggles, if he wanted to know, he felt like Clint didn't have a reason to keep it from him-

ike apatow: I don't ... -Ike shakes his head slightly, frustrated at attempting to explain this- I don't think I'm hard to read. My motivations are pretty simple. But people have trouble figuring me out and maybe that's how it should be, maybe that's what makes this all work. Only a handful of people really get me, so, y'know. The rest can build me up or tear me down however they want. It doesn't matter. So long as it serves Redwood. -he loosens his fist slightly when Clint holds his arm, smoothing his thumb over the straw-coloured strands like a soothing pet, like an apology- Tell me. Go on. Tell me your darkest secrets.

Clint Bennet: -his eyes shifted between Ike's eyes and his lips- Used t'think you were hard t'read. People ain't used t'others not having an ulterior motive or dancin' around shit instead of gettin' t'the point, but yer pretty cut n' dry even when yer colorful about it. -he observed-  before the world ended, dancin' 'round shit was the norm, feel like people are still used t' it -eyes met the others- why do you let others tear ya down? -when the other loosened hits grip, Clint could feel his shoulders relax, though his hand remained where it was, it was no longer threatening. Clint's fingertips traced from the man's upper arm, down his forearm and to his wrist, clasping it gently and lowering it away from his scalp, fingers absentmindedly felt the leather of one of Ike's many bracelets as he realized just how he backed himself into this corner - growin' up -he started after a long moment, struggling to organize his thoughts- I didn't really know safety or the feelin' of comfort, forget love. M'old man used m'brother n' I as punchin' bags n' things t'be thrown around whenever the mood struck. Home was... A place t'survive n'escape from but y' always had t'come back because y'had nowhere else t'go. It was m'pops that fucked up m'hearin' as a kid, thought he was gonna kill me. -though his words were clear, there was a sense of numbness in his voice, a disconnect behind his eyes, like he wasn't talking about his experience as if he lived it but was retelling it from an outsider's perspective. After he spoke, he realized his fingers were still loosely wrapped around Ike's wrist. He let go as he seemed to come back into himself. Eyes shifted away from Ike, a mix of shame and frustration showing on his features-  Even after I was taken away from there, I couldn't ever feel safe. The sudden quiet put me in m'head a lot n' I hated it. Started usin' t'escape those dark thoughts n' this ache of not belongin', not deservin' anything other than what I was raised with.

ike apatow: -his eyebrows flicker when Clint asks a million-dollar question- People feel better about their lives if they can be assured there's at least one person who's way worse than them. So hey, if I fit the bill, whatever. Call it a psychological service to the town. I can handle it. -he's not bothered by Clint keeping hold of his wrist, being a person who likes physical contact; it helps when Clint starts talking about how he grew up. Ike listens, gaze scanning over the younger man's face as he relates what he's been through, the cruelties and traumas he's suffered, how he came to have his current disability and how that fed into his substance use- You were pretty much fuckin' trapped in it, huh? And god knows it's hard to tell if it's better or worse to be going through that with a sibling. -once most of the story's out, Clint retreats some, dropping Ike's hand; he lets the other man talk, then reaches out again, to clasp just above Clint's elbow- And how d'you feel now? When it comes to that, not feeling safe. Sometimes it helps, in a fucked-up way, that there's groaners all around, because we can point at 'em and say, that's danger, that's a threat, that needs to be destroyed. And not feel conflicted about it. -pauses, for a few moments- Were you conflicted about your old man, and how you felt about him?

Clint Bennet: -He didn't know how this happened, he was trying to help Ike and now he was on the hot seat, he was feeling exposed and vulnerable, the only saving grace was that this was Ike and not someone else. He gave a nod of his head at Ike's observation with his brother- Everythin' 'cept fer th'cage. Mike, he was able to run off when I was ten. Hurt a lot at th'time, but I came t'understand it pretty quickly. Turned inta envy until I was taken out, I still hope he was able t'find some happiness. -His eyes search Ike's when his hand reaches over and gently grasps his arm. His first instinct is always to pull away but with Ike his free hand reaches over, rests on top of the man's hand, remaining there, something he can ground himself to.- Varies... There's pockets of feelin' good, knowin' the enemy, feelin' secure, it took a long time when I first arrived but now those feelin's will last fer weeks, sometimes a month 'n then some. Then... I don't know, sometimes shit happens, sometimes it's nothin' at all n' I just feel m'self slippin', feel those walls comin' back up. I consider leavin', th'threat don't seem so clear no more, it takes a while t'clear m'head, push that shit back, start thinkin' with sense again. Then I just try t'keep that goin' as long as I can. -Shoulders shrug at the admittance, it's something he had never expressed aloud to even hear himself say. Brows furrow at Ike's question about his feelings about his father.- At first, yeah. Y'know, he was my dad, the person I was supposed to have trust in, the person who kept me n'my brother fed. When I was real small I didn't know what he was doin' was wrong, thought it was normal. Goin' t'school showed me that it wasn't. Told some classmates what was happenin' n' their reaction was all I needed t'know I need t' keep this shit t'm'self.

They kept away from me, like they were scared. My viewpoint changed on him then, he was the monster, th'thing t'hide from... But there was another part 'a  me that thought this must be somethin' I deserve, me n'm'brother, we were bad, we were gettin' punished. -There's a pause as his voice cracks, at this point he felt like he couldn't stop himself- He would tell us that as he beat down on us, we were shitheads, worthless, we were the reason mom left 'n now he was stuck with us, we deserved it all n' then some. -He steps away from Ike now, the pain clear on his face as his eyes well up, he digs the heel of his palm into his forehead.- I ain't conflicted 'bout him. He was a bastard, after I was taken out, I got no idea what happened t'him n' I never wanna know. Woulda rather never been born than t'have t'go through that. -He glances at Ike again wiping his eyes  with a frustrated grunt- Fuck, Ike... This was supposed t'be 'bout you... Yer not th'town  punchin' bag. Y'don't deserve it. Just 'cause y'can handle it don't mean y'should have to. Yer a good man, Ike, fuck th'people who can't see that.

ike apatow: That's a pretty generous view to take, for your brother's sake. Lots of people never reach that point. -Ike can tell he's pushing against Clint's boundaries some, touching his arm, but when the other man puts his hand over Ike's, it's a good sign- Yeah. Even with things in Redwood being basically the Four fuckin' Seasons compared to other survivor settlements out there, it still sometimes gets bad inside. Inside your head, inside, I mean. I feel it too. But that's always been what it's like for me and it might be always like that for you too, man. There's a reason we call ourselves addicts even after being sober longer than we were using. -Clint shifts from the general, talking about day-to-day life, back to his father and it's about as ugly as it could be, driving Clint to have to put some space between them to keep himself from shaking apart- That's good. That you know how you feel about your dad, that he doesn't have a grip on you anymore. Even if it still fucks you up, it's clear-cut, and I dunno, maybe it sounds simplistic but in my book? Anything that you can be clear-cut about, it's one less thing that'll trip you up when you're dealing with all the rest. 

-but Clint's changing tracks again, looking at Ike more focused on him past the trauma he'd been relating, and Ike shifts slightly, keeping his own discomfort confined to a shrug- What I deserve or don't deserve is a pretty wide fuckin' field, kid. I've done things ... beyond what most people with normal lives ever do. Some things I can't even begin to process and I'd never finish dealing with em. Where I grew up, everything was either penance or duty, and I guess... -Ike stops, his gaze skating past Clint, dotting back and forth before he says, half to himself- Y'know, you're like the fourth? Fifth? person who's made that comparison. The punching bag thing. -he looks at Clint again, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning back slightly, a smile just touching his lips- In the Bible -- I dunno how much you're into the Bible, but I was raised on it -- there were two goats, in the scapegoat story. One of em was straight out sacrificed to the Lord, killed right there on the altar. The other one, it got burdened with all the sins of the people, but it got to go free. Carrying the whole community's sins but it got to live, however it wanted, out in the desert for the rest of its life. The Azazel goat. -he does grin, then- Azazel goat's maybe not so bad a thing to be, compared to the alternative.

Clint Bennet: -He takes Ike's words to heart. The other seemed to completely understand where he was coming from, where he was at, though truth be told, he didn't necessarily feel like his dad didn't still have a grip on him. Maybe not in the way Ike mean it, but he could still hear his dad's voice, his words clear as day echoing through his mind in he quiet hours of the night, it wasn't unusual for him to wake and see his dad's figure standing in the room, just barely out of reach, he still had night terrors where he would only wake once he had thrown himself off the bed and onto the floor. He wasn't sure if he should bring that up, selfishly he wanted the attention off of him, after all Ike was the one he was there for, before his admittance, Ike was the one needing help.- 

Simplistic... Yeah, I can git behind that. Easier t'manage. -His eyes searched the others as he began talking about himself again, mentioning the things he had done, to Clint it seemed like those things put a lot of weight on his mind, like he felt stained by what he had done in his past. There were words that Ike used that caught his attention, penance and duty, they didn't seem like a normal phrase Ike would use, they were too specific and dripping with religious intent but Clint decided to just put a pin on that in his mind, in case it came up again.- There ain't no saints in this world anymore, Ike, they're all long dead. We've all done shit, there ain't no normal person no more. We do shit we don't take any pleasure or pride from, try t'bury it down like it don't affect us because at th'end of th'day we gotta save our own fuckin' hides or the hides of those we care about. -Ike seems to go quiet mentioning the comment about being a punching bag.- Almost like a pattern people notice 'bout you. -A sympathetic smile crosses Clint's features again but seems to drop when Ike focuses on religion, Clint knowing it was important to pay attention.-

-As Ike explained Clint could see the comparison Ike was making about himself, like somehow he deserved it... No more than that, like it was his fate to take on that pain, like some destiny, the shift in his expression almost seemed accepting of it. This time Clint reaches out, takes a step towards the weathered man and grabs his shoulder firmly.- Is that what y'think you are? Like this is somethin' that just needs t'happen? Takin' that shit on is yer responsibility? -He holds Ike's gaze.- Do y'feel like no matter what y'do, that's all people are gonna see you as? That's all yer gonna see yerself as?

ike apatow: Easier to manage. Exactly. -he takes the time to let Clint say his piece, about the questionable deeds that most of them have done in order to survive since the zombie apocalypse, and it's not like Ike fully disagrees, but still there's some part of him that needs to say- There's some things that are objectively evil acts no matter if it's before time or now time, Clint. Nothing's ever gonna erase what I've done and -- I know it's complicated, most of the time when people do fucked up shit it's complicated. That still doesn't take away the harm I caused.

-Clint steps forward, though, after Ike's little parable about the Azazel goat, and his blue eyes are steady and clear when he asks his questions, unwavering with his hand on Ike's shoulder- In its own way? This makes me feel ... better's not the right word, but I haven't found the right word yet. It is penance and I should be paying penance and that -- everything I do, whatever I take on -- it's a slow slow trickle to balance the scales. That's how I see it. If I got weighed against my sins right now I'd be found wanting and there's a long road ahead of me to even just balance it, never mind making up for everything. -Ike shrugs, gaze skidding away from Clint's, up towards the sky- It's fine. I don't feel sorry for myself and I don't have a bad life. This, being here in Redwood doing what I do, it's better than a lot of the places I've been. I got people here who love me, who really love me, and that goes a helluva long way. -his gaze comes down again, settling on Clint- It's the same for you, too, isn't it? Even in the middle of the shitstorm and biters, this is the eye of the hurricane. This is ... safe. Of all the fuckin' things.

Clint Bennet: -Brows knit together in concern and confusion when Ike clarified that he did something he considered evil, again there were those religious undertones that Clint couldn't help but catch on to, he said he was brought up in it, maybe to a more extreme level than Clint had assumed, he got the feeling Ike didn't just go to church every Sunday and have a "choose your own adventure" Bible as a kid. He wondered if that was part of the reason Ike had this type of perspective and outlook about himself.- I git wantin' t'balance th'scale by doin' good things, tryin' t'be better, do better t'make up fer hurtin' people in th'past, cause there's no goin' back n' undoin' that, but- -He pauses for a moment trying to think of how to best phrase his thoughts.- I don't think that gives others th'right t'treat you like shit. That's what worries me, yer not a fuckin' goat from some biblical metaphor or whatever. Yer just a man, that's all any of us are, just people dealin' with our own shit just below th' surface. It don't mean we should bring others down. -His hand slides down to Ike's arm, but he still keeps the contact, his lips draw into a thin line as Ike continues, while Ike's eyes shift upwards, Clint still keeps his gaze on his face, a smile pulling at his lips when Ike mentions how loved he is, the tension releases from his shoulders slightly.- Yer loved Ike, admired, I don't know if this place would be th'same without ya.

-His eyes meet Ike's again. His question seemed so simple, but for Clint it was a little difficult to answer, he couldn't just come out and say yes. He breaks the contact with Ike with a shrug of his shoulders.- Safety, it's kinda like a double edged sword. When yer out there 'n in the shit, fightin' t'survive, y' ain't really got time t'think, yer just tryin' t'make it fer the next hour, th'next day. Here in this safety, y' got all this time t'be with yer thoughts, reflect, deal with them, a lot of th'time it ain't easy. I ain't sayin' I miss bein' out there. -He cocks his head towards the nearest perimeter wall- But, sometimes I miss that feelin' of not bein' stuck in m'head. I don't feel like I've found m'place here yet, I've met some great people, people I care fer deeply, like you, just tryin' t'figure how I fit into it all. -He takes a breath.- Fuck, don't know about you, I could use a cig right about now. -He laughs glancing up at Ike again.- I don't know what y'did in yer past that y'feel stained ya so much n' y'aint ever gotta tell me if y'don't want to, but I'm glad I've met ya, Ike, who you've become, who you are now, I'm real glad fer it. 

ike apatow: Well, kid - these are all great sentiments, and I agree with you, but in real life when things are getting worked out in technicolour in front of a live studio audience? -Ike grins, a little wearily- It's not so clear-cut. If the people treating me like shit were also assholes, that would be one thing. When it's good sweet people who're better than me in all the ways that better gets measured? Call me Billy Goat Gruff. -he shakes his head with an accompanying lift of one shoulder, the grin softening into a smile at Clint as the other man goes on, kind words that Ike lets soak into him- Don't sweat it. I've been through a lot. I can handle this. I always find ways to handle whatever comes down the pike.

-Clint's problem with being in Redwood is a familiar one, and Ike nods, snickering when Clint mentions how good a cigarette would be now- Fuckin' ay, man. But that's the thing about recovery - you're stuck with you, wherever you go. So busy or not, you gotta find some way to live with all the clanging bullshit going on in the ol' noggin. -he reaches over to flick a fingertip against Clint's temple- If it's noisy, too noisy, so much that keeping yourself busy isn't cutting it, come talk to me. I was never anybody's NA sponsor or anything, I don't figure I have the right temperament for it, but I can be a good sounding board. Awright? It'd be good for me too, to be honest.

-the last few comments, delivered so genuine with a double dose of Clint's sky-blue stare, leaves Ike a little quiet for a moment, and then he leans over, balanced on one foot so he can nudge against Clint before going back to standing normally- Thanks. I don't... -he's at a loss, not sure how to respond to Clint's words, and settles on- It's good to know some people made it through all the shit to be here. To be in Redwood in this community we got for ourselves, carving out the new future. I'm glad you're in it too. -he gives Clint one more quick, tight-lipped but genuine smile with his gaze scanning over the other man one more time for good measure, and lopes off back towards the main party-

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ❝  𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬,  𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥.  𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.  ❞ ~𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲

                              ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝. ( @realmyths )

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 a double-take, as though what he’d seen had really been a mirage or otherwise a ghost — something that wasn’t really there. Shit, he’s spent so much time and energy running from the before that he’d nearly succeeded in forgetting it existed. Of course, when he really looks at it, the memories will always be there — if not in his head, then on his body. There’s still a lot of guilt scarred on his heart, too. He’d always put himself in front of the other kids — didn’t matter which of the many homes he’d been in, that part of the story was always the same. When he ran away, he knows that he left some of them to rot. He also knows that he inevitably wouldn’t have survived the alternative.

      He’s lost contact with all of them now — because Westley van der Sterren no longer exists — he’s Westley McCarthy now. In the end, that old piece of him had disappeared into oblivion the same as the boy who had been the breaking point into him finally doing it — finally running away where no one could ever find him. Better to be on his own. He’d gotten a taste of love and family once — enough to know that the life he had been living prior hadn’t been fated to him. He’d just had to grab the notion of fate and turn it upside down.

      Persephone looks happy — much different now from the young lass who often cried herself to sleep at night. Good for her. Westley imagines a lot of kids don’t get through the hell that is the foster care system in one piece — he surely hadn’t.

      He looks over the rim of his coffee as he takes a sip. He shouldn’t be here or doing this — tiptoeing back into the past and opening up doors he’d sealed off with a hammer and every nail he could find. “Sometimes,” he says slowly, “I like to people-watch. I’ll make up epic grand adventures of their lives, and then sometimes I’ll introduce myself — see how close I was. Or how wrong. Usually I’m wrong. I think there’s beauty in that. The not-knowing.” It’s safer, too. The not knowing. The not getting close enough to know. “People can be whatever you want them to be. The world can be a thing of beauty again. I gotta admit, I don’t quite have you figured out. You look happy — I almost don’t want to ask.”

[survivoirs]

My autistic ass hyperfixating on watching a tiktok blog dedicated to breeding snakes: oh I totally understand why Malcolm and Eddie (both canonically having had a pet snake(s), also autistic, have been so into snakes for so long. HC incoming about both of them hiding lil snake bins under their beds. Eddie because he was afraid his parents wouldn't let him keep them, his dad likely would have beat him for hiding them/being dishonest. And Malcolm because, while his mother let him get a pet snake(s) he got super fixated on breeding them for pretty morphs and she didn't know how many snakes he had.

[thevamplelio]

Hello father.

@dcvilvampyre

After a brief pause, the Brat Prince opens and closes his mouth not saying a word. Lestat squints, taking down purple shades. Purple shades too deliberately hide the preternatural shine in his ice-blue eyes from an ignorant mortal gaze. More for their safety than his own.

No, not Claudia, she is but a ghost of a memory, she has been for quite a while, not Viktor he is off with Rose, as young non-discriminating men who can value pretty gentle things do, and not Nicole, Nicole, Amel bless her, took her mamans Audrey's spirit and inclination to get by on one's own wit. Sure enough, Audrey had, Nicole would, but not before Lestat put the Dhampir violinist girl through adequate schooling. Something his own father denied him.

Dear God, it must have come full circle, he only wished he wasn't his father's mirror, the father who beat him and forbid him from reading, and saw so little substance in him.

Dear God, what have I done?

"You came back," Lestat managed quietly, careful not to seem aggressive or overbearing.

[monterraverde]

⏳!

"...I've danced around this Cufant enough, I guess. I was raised in a really violent and chaotic home. Antonio loved his bottles more then us, dunno why he wound up having two kids when he didn't want me to begin with, but... Something tells me he was expected to have kids because of outside forces and just hated the idea. Doesn't excuse him at all, but fuck... Anyway, he just up and vanished one day after-"

The statements stopped abruptly as she brought a hand up to the scar on her eye, shrugging.

"-Left Mom, Isabella and I alone. Had a year of pure bliss and joy, until mama got really sick. I was... ten, I think? Taking care of my three year old sister and her quickly deteriorating health. She lost her fight with it, and I wound up raising my sister because the foster care system failed us at every turn. They enrolled me in Naranja at least, and I took to pokemon battling every person I saw just to get money to provide for her."

She shakes her head once, a bit of a sad smile on her face. "Bella doesn't remember any of it, and has really vague memories of mom, which... honestly I'm glad for that. She's become a hell of a trainer in her own right. I'm proud of her."

[rahbid]

TARGET   :   EARVING. LOCATION   :   @toonsupe​​​​​​​ ASSIGNMENT   :   MORBID CURIOSITY. ENCRYPTED   :     how did you get this scar ?

        the last person to touch her ungloved hands ( like this, gently, without her father’s clinical malice or the nuns’ violent thrashes ) was tamar. she’d held her once, with adoration, with love. the feeling has fled now, the dying embers momentarily stoked by the way earving takes both her hands into his own, thumbs exploring the raised flesh. she’d given them to him willingly - he wouldn’t have taken them any other way. not like she would have, unashamed and unafraid to grab hold of jezebel and promise to hold them evermore. promises, like most things, were made to be broken.

      some part of her worries she’s searching for the broken pieces of lost love in earving’s softness. the logical part of her knows that earving is not tamar, would never feel the way she once did. their bond is different - blooming adolescence in a shared hell. flowers being stomped out. she’s terrified because she knows she is the dandelion that thrives being trampled into the concrete. she’s not sure he possesses the same resilience.

         ❝   catholic school.   ❞   a simple explanation. she forces a grin at him. she can’t be sad, not around him. he needs strength.   ❝   the nuns said i had a smart mouth and my father was inclined to agree. they were just made i read the bible more than they did and could correct them.  ❞

[deepspacevivarium]

Remember when Jax drew his mother? Pomni does. She's sitting at her vanity with some paper and crayons. She outlines a large figure, but scribbles it in with black instead of giving it details. That's all she can manage before she crumples up the paper and throws it at the wall.

She doesn't want to remember what her father looked like. It'll make him real. If he's real, then whatever happened to her...No, no, no. She's not going to think about that.

[tierra-paldeana]

Hey, this is sort of a potentially troubling question but does the League itself assist students at the Academy who belong to not so supportive households? Like, does Geeta get involved with those sorts of things or do you?

☠🌏– ''It's a very complicated matter, really... Each student is a world, n' a lot of these cases we might not be informed about, whether it is 'cause the student in question did not inform us due to societal pressure or threat from their parents, n' a whole lotta stuff. The school's open 24/7 n' provides to the students wit' their own room, scheduled cafeteria meals, n' we got a number of school counselors at our disposal. I'll have ya' know, their presence really helped me when I joined the Academy, n' they helped me come to terms wit' the fact that I was neglected as a kid, n' well... knowin' I had a place to stay in n' stay well-fed also helped a ton.''

''If we suspect anythin' or a student comes tellin' us about their family situation, they're reminded they're welcome to stay at the Academy for as long as they want, n' that we'll deal wit' their parents if they come askin' for their kid. One time we learned this kid's parents physically hit them n' needless to say we took matters into our own hands. Now that kid got recently adopted by an actually lovin' family, n' I couldn't be prouder 'bout that. That sorta thing makes me more than happy to work 'ere if I can help the kids 'bout it.''