#im making them over they deserve a youth too

[deuceysims]

Geeta Rasoya Jeyakumar | Dennis Kim | Vivian Lewis Hagen | Lydia Spencer

[kerorowhump]

[bestlilithian]

Home is the first grave.

[ Moon-Pluto, Pluto in 4th house culture ]

tw for various mentions of abuse and death as well as mental problems, sh and su!cide, also needles (dont ask)

- may have experienced a lot of death in thr family or in the close neighborhood

- feel more connected to your dead relatives than your alive ones

- there mightve been a death in your family before you were born

- feeling peacful in graveyards

- may have fantasized about death/su!cide, might percieve death as something that brings peace (hence the fantasies, because really all you ever wanted was peace)

- wanting peace but knowing you cannot have it because of your nature; feeling like theres just something in your blood in your soul that is uncontrollable and overwhelming

- your household was always a house , never a home

- being raised by very old people, enjoying the presence of much older wiser people (like, literal elders not hot teachers 💀)

- enduring literal psychological warfare in your home (usual your mother waged war on you as soon as you were old enough to form a coherent critical thought)

- "I hate you, dont leave me" (might be the attitude of your mother towards you, or yours towards others you love)

- Your mother always knew when you were lying or hiding something. Especially if she had a scorpio moon or moon/pluto aspects herself. You grew up extremely fearful of her.

- moon pluto culture is hearing your mother talk lovingly about her own fucked up mother, she never accepted the severity of her own abuse, until of course she needs to use it in an argument against you "Im a great mother, my mother was so much worse"(basically Im good because I abuse you differently than I was abused 😍 same shit different package)

- not liking motherly women or women who try to be mother figures to you, feeling uncomofortable around them; youre uncomfortable with how much you crave motherly love and people who can provide you that become threats because of the power they could have over you if you opened up

- being betrayed by the women in your life, especially those who were much older and supposed to take care of you (teachers, tutors, family members, therapists, babysitters..)

- toxic female friends 😁🔫 bonus : really close but toxic female friendships in youth that feel like death when you end them even though you know it was necessary

- feeling pain so deeply you think you will drop dead or have a heart attack. (When I was little and depressed I wrote in a diary of mine "My body will kill me before I get to")

more on this : when you start crying because of immense emotional pain and suddenly your heart is burning and beating too fast and youre getting light headed and throwing up , and suddenly youre not crying because of the pain, youre crying because youre afraid youre about to have a heart attack and die

- fearing that your mother will k word herself or you if you try to leave her (harsh aspects mostly)

- learning what emotional violence is very early, how to wield it and defend against it

- turning your emotions off completely for a while and then having a nervous breakdown when it all rushes back

- reading up on psychology, psychiatry and works of psychotherapists so you can heal and never become your mother

- wanting to put a bullet in your head when you notice yourself thinking or behaving like your mother

- going home after you spent time somewhere where you felt good and safe is extremely dreadful

- your mother doesnt see you as a human being (harsh aspects especially), and may take you a while to figure this out

- extremely controlling behavior from your mother or other caretakers (for example my mother threatened to send people to stalk me when I moved to a diff city, to 'make sure Im not doing something bad')

- deeply grieving the loss of your childhood and your inner child

- almost choking while crying or passing out

- feeling like youre a horrible person and dont deserve your family [because youre in deep denial and are seeing the flaws of your family as your own and denying your own trauma]

- learning about sex early on, perhaps early sexual obsession but not like promiscuity more like craving for deep intimacy (also you were probably deeply ashamed of it)

- not telling your family (esp mother) anything because they will ruin it for you

- being accused of being a psychopath, uncaring, selfish for "not loving your family enough"

- not knowing how to feel about the members of your family that played a more passive role in your life because they didnt do anything wrong but they didnt do anything right either; surely they knew , why didnt they stop it? why didnt they save you? (Im talking about adults obviously)

- your parents mightve been much older when you were born, you might have siblings much older than you

- doing anything to avoid your intense emotions and then when you break down and feel everything you realize how freeing it is and how comfortable you actually are with the intensity

- gutteral reactions to songs you deeply relate to (I hear 10 seconds of 'Slipping through my fingers' and I am dead on the floor)

- being afraid of your mother or just of your family in general

- you could probably kill someone with your bare hands if you were angry and hurt enough

- scary as fuck when you actually show your anger

- if you cry in the midst of a fight (verbal or physical) ... someone tell that person to make peace w God . cause thats you crying because of what youre about to do, because thats you loosing the last crumb of humanity you had for them and that can only end one way.

- you would probably kill for your loved ones

- your friends feel like you would help them hide a body (and you probably would)

- recognizing people by footsteps and breathing patterns (especially family members)

- deep deep eyes, people can see war and death them, and they feel like you see their pain too (because you do)

- reading people easily

- enjoying? cruelty (to yourself or others), like getting impulses to do something that would cause you or someone else that ugly feeling of facing cruelty

- finding comfort in the cold and the dark

- insane nightmares since youth, growing to be used to them

- its very hard to shock you

- you know when someones lying

- you might dread certain types of pain yet feel pleasure from them (personally I hate having my blood taken for a test but then I end up immensely enjoying the feeling of a needle pricking my skin and going deep into my vein)

- feeling the need to "kill" some your habits; most likely to drop things cold turkey and be extremely strict in breaking bad habits

- might enjoy really dark, emotionally and morally complex media

- immediately recognizing other moon pluto people and trauma bonding

- extremely good pain endurance. not necessarily tolerance , but endurance. you feel the pain and do it anyway.

- might not react to physical pain at all from a young age

- fantasies about drowning or slipping away peacfully

- either loving deep waters or hating them

- randomly breaking down in the middle of the day because of some pain you buried 5 years ago

- might self harm a lot because of your complex relationship w pain, it genuinely helps sometimes

- home feels like literal prison

- seeing the value in suffering, you might reject the idea that suffering is bad and should be avoided and prevented at all costs

- you might become religious as you mature (but usually in your own way, not necessarily according to tradition)

- forced to eat or denied food in your home, this mightve fucked up your relationship with food

And lastly, I need you to engrave this in yourself :

Wrong love is not love.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

“That one time Barnaby broke somebody’s jaw for going a little too far w/ insulting Wally & almost got expelled <3”

Full story please? <3

WITH PLEASURE!

for those who are slightly confused, this is for 'my' modern human au! well. modern-ish!

okay so when they were in freshman year / 9th grade, Barnaby and Wally are soldily Bonded. they are a set, do not separate. they receive a lot of shit for this, because some kids are assholes and that's especially true for 14yr olds. and it's 2006. so Wally and Barnaby get teased/bullied a lot for their closeness. at this point they're kind of used to it. they met early in 7th grade and have been inseparable ever since. most of it slides off of them

but what is Barnaby was having an especially stressful week? one of those weeks were everything is going wrong, nothing is working out. so Barn is at the end of his rope, and then one of the main kids who likes to bother them insults Wally specifically, and badly. like it's some next level So Bad Its Almost Impressive shit. at present Barnaby is walking to his next class with Wally and Poppy. so Barnaby just kind of stops in place, mentally chooses violence, turns, walks up to the kid, and punches him as hard as he can. it knocked the bully out instantly and broke his jaw.

and keep in mind that at this point in time, Barnaby isn't the big strong guy he is later on. he hasn't had his main growth spurt yet. and he still packed enough of a punch to do Damage - which makes him even more intimidating when he Does hit his growth spurt and towers over practically everyone

the pros of this event: Frank and Julie were watching, and Frank respected Barnaby's response so much that he allowed Julie to bring him to hang out with the growing friend group at lunch / asshole kids were less inclined to insult Wally and Barnaby (or his friends) to their faces

cons: Eddie was also watching and was too scared of Barnaby for the rest of their school career to try and talk to him or his friends / Barnaby nearly got expelled but did get suspended, and that's a permanent mark on his record

so the kid goes down, everyone freaks out. Barnaby is still too angry to feel anything other than pissed off vindication. naturally higher Authorities (teachers) come to get the unconscious student to the (i almost said vet) nurse's office, and to bring Barnaby to the principle's office. they call Ms. Beagle and have her come pick him up. Wally has stuck like glue to Barnaby pretty much the whole time, except for when Barnaby was in the office to get chewed out / interrogated. when Ms. Beagle is done w/ her conversation with the principle, she takes Barnaby and Wally home.

there, Barnaby is still worked up, and as "punishment" Ms. Beagle has him do some menial tasks alongside his usual after school chores. Wally tags along, of course, and asks why the hell Barnaby did that. in a nicer Wally way of asking. this is what breaks the camels back. Barnaby just sits down and starts crying, to which Wally is like "oh no. oh fuck. what do i do." cue a solid minute of him just standing and staring in panic before awkwardly sitting next to Barnaby in solidarity.

when they go inside, Ms. Beagle already has Barnaby's favorite dinner whipped up and ready. She gives him a talk where she's essentially says "blah blah blah violence isn't the answer. however, good job for standing up to that kid. he's an asshole and deserved a good wallop." (listen im a firm believer in ms beagle having been a Wild Youth that would have thrown bricks at cops). Moods are lightened, they have a good dinner. The next day or so they need to go have a meeting with the Injured Kid's parents. that's when they find out Barnaby fully broke the kids jaw (he feels a little bad for that) and that the parents are pushing for his expulsion and also juvie. Ms. Beagle manages to whittle down the sentence to a long suspension and then detention for the rest of the year, as well as her paying the kid's hospital bill.

tl;dr Barnaby punches a kid for insulting Wally, gets a new friend out of it, nearly gets expelled, and gains a mostly unfounded Reputation that dissuades most from outright messing with him or his pals

[betaminshitto]

What’s your favourite thing about shuggy cross guild and mishanks? Why you ship them?

what i like most about those ships is BUGGY i love teasing and tormenting and driving that clown up the wall! I guess i get the most out of it with Shanks because of their past and unresolved tensions hahah... also i love making myself feel bad over fictional characters and they give me that good pain! They make me laugh but also grind my teeth in agony...

As for cross guild, well, it was the thing that motivated me to pick up op again (i was stuck at fishman island for a few years), i needed to see what the fuck was that combination of characters teaming up all about!? And what do u kno...it was about tormenting Buggy...which i love to see... and also about giving him the spotlight he deserves (even if it was the result of failing upwards one too many times but i believe in his odd charisma) and the means to chase his dreams again! I really just like Buggy ok!! Cross guild is hilarious as a very dysfunctional polycule - but really, while Buggy is their punching bag (the violence is very much played for laughs and i genuinely feel bad for him but as i said i like pain) he also stood up for what he believed in when it mattered and challenged croc and hawk's pessimistic/realistic outlook on what it means to be a pirate.

for the record I can't say i actively ship mishanks really, honestly i didn't care about them as characters enough (i swear i care about them a little bit more now) for me to get invested in their relationship. Although i can see them having this fling in their youth which Shanks fumbled too but unlike Buggy, Mihawk has standards and, as my friend put it, deserves someone who owns more than two pairs of pants. Which brings me to crochawk which you did not ask about but i just want to elaborate on that too. At first i didn't pay their dynamic too much attention because of my lack of interest in Mihawk (again, sorry) but slowly warmed up to it, they both have a distrust in others and i think they'd be very good at giving each other the personal space they need while also being fucking weird about forming a genuine bond because idk if they have ever had a normal and balanced relationship in their life (i also ship dofuwani so yeah let's just throw one more ex to the mix).

Alright! Enough rambling! Hopefully you got something out of this and if you didn't...too bad. Also final note: even though I'm a shuggy truther myself it's all just my personal interpretation. Shipping is supposed to be fun! Or a way for you to experience intense emotions you don't really get to experience in your personal life or whatever! Don't take me too seriously im begging you

[creepling]

hi! happy 1k <3 may i request a piece with johnny x single mom reader + the prompt “will you stay?” “of course, i’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”? i thought it’d be interesting if reader was formerly captured by the sawyer family, while she was on vacation with friends, but johnny relented and decided to let her go because of how badly she begged for her life & at the time her baby was only 2 months old, which she told him. so johnny being johnny as well, he was able to track her down a month later — at first just to check up on her, but he decided he wanted to help her raise her kid & kind of switch up his life since the baby’s father is (willingly) out of the picture. also reader is a young mom (early 20s), around the same age that johnny is, he’s just a lil older. they’re still warming up to each other/developing their relationship but to the reader’s surprise, johnny’s really good with kids & has done a lot to help reader out to give her a break? AAAA THIS IS A LOT OF INFO IM SORRY but i hope it makes sense & that you have fun with making something out of this <333

AAAA ok no but i love this, idk it makes sense for the sawyers to spare a victim if they have a kid?? the whole "family" motto would get to them lol. i love all your info but i apologise if i've missed out on anything. i've made this drabble more like a time passing sort of thing so i could include everything.

tags: angst. single-mum!reader. reformed!johnny. kid is gn (use of they/it). descriptions of trauma. johnny feels a lot of guilt. mild blood ment.

“Drop the god-damn knife, Johnny. She’s got a kid for crying out loud!” Drayton barked.

Johnny’s adrenaline shot through his body, tensing his muscles and trembling his hands. “Is that true?” He growled, eyes shot out at your petrified stare.

You pulled a Polaroid picture out of your pocket, your bloody hands staining the corners. You beheld it to Johnny, trying to steady your shakes. Johnny gazed at the picture, the newborn clouded in white, its eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.

“My baby . . . My baby. I need to go home to my baby,” You sob, begging on your knees, hysterics maddening all parts of your manner.

Johnny’s knife dropped to the floor, and he thought about every bad thing he had done. There was no coming back from this.

It had been a month of silence. A month of sleepless nights and looking over your shoulder. Breastfeeding became agonising. Your baby’s cries sent you into uncontrollable alertness. Your hair was brittle and your skin shallow, the stress shivering through your body like a ghost entering your soul.

The letters came around that time. Off-white envelopes with a few dollars in cash. All that was left was a note,

For the Baby, I’m sorry.

Meeting him again after the kidnapping was an anxiety-driven step, bouncing your baby on your lap as you waited in the diner booth. You convinced yourself you lost your mind, wanting to rekindle with your kidnapper. But you hadn’t heard from anyone since the birth; the baby daddy became non-existent. Your family refuse to return your calls. The only person willing to help you was Johnny.

He was silent across from you for a while. The only words he uttered were to order from the menu. He shovelled down an apple pie while you bottle-fed your child, lulling them to their afternoon nap.

“Why are you helping me?” You remember asking. Visioning Johnny’s deep gaze, his subtle glances at your first-born, a tinge of sadness glazing his eyes.

He said he owed you too much. Your baby deserved to grow up with a male figure in its life, and you deserved someone to protect you. The sight of your youthful features withering away from stress, the permanent damage he inflicted on you, ached your eyes and down-turned your smile. It kept him up at night thinking about you, struggling with the fussing cries and flashes of his brute force. He wanted to step up. He was ready for redemption.

He drove you back home, watching over his new companions with careful eyes. His arm outstretched as he turned the wheel, hoping not to disturb the baby’s slumber. The rascal woke up eventually, full of energy the minute you invited him inside. “Would you like to hold them?” You asked, unable to ignore his loving stares.

He felt like crying, holding something so precious. Knowing he nearly orphaned this child, ridding it of a beautiful mother. He swore to protect the kid, holding its gentle head and leaning it into his chest. His gentleness surprised you, the warmth filling your smile for the first time in months.

Johnny never left the house. He hadn’t seen his family in months and had no plans on returning. Your little one was proliferating, and Johnny got used to using his strength to pry the ankle biter from dangerous objects. He ditched the knives and retired into swinging the kid until they were out of breath from laughter. He stepped up, got a job, and brought money in to keep you secure.

He was a different man, and he changed you as a mother. He repented for his sins. He begged for forgiveness with every stare your way, with every gentle touch. You finally forgave him, praying that his presence is destined to be everlasting.

“Will you stay?” He held you in his arms as you choked up, clinging to his body. 

“I’m not plannin’ on leavin’ anytime soon.” Johnny kissed the top of your head, his arms around you. Your loving touch soothing the aching heart he’s adorned for decades.

[mysteriousboo]

Why I prefer cdramas over kdramas(as an international fan)

kdramas ive watched - business proposal, sweet home, rookie historian goo hae-ryung, mr queen, link: eat, love, kill , the glory , crash landing on you, what's wrong with secretary kim, true beauty, romance is a bonus book, goblin, meow-the secret boy, hometown cha cha cha, see you in my 19th life

cdramas ive watched - the untamed, word of honor, blood of youth, ten miles of peach blossom(i regret watching this one), love between fairy and devil, the starry love, till the end of the moon, put your head on my shoulder, mr honesty, the romance of tiger and rose, love o2o, go go squid!, love and destiny, currently watching back from the brink

1) Cdramas tend to have more developed side characters

ive seen a good variety of kdramas, and i always find the side characters to be lacking! they are often treated as props or only used for comical purposes. meanwhile, in cdramas, they tend to have more personality and are important to the plot as well rather than just being a plot device! (i agree that not all cdramas do it well, but the ones that do leave behind a good impression)

2) Cdramas make the characters interact well

one thing that i have noticed in cdramas is that they make character interactions to be deep and meaningful! personally, i prefer consuming media where both the main characters and side characters stand out, and while it's hard to create something like that, cdramas do it better than kdramas! side characters often don't get enough screen time or are too one-dimensional to make an impact on the viewers! im not saying that kdramas don't do it at all, im saying that a lot of times, it just doesn't hit as hard as in cdramas.

3)The angst hits harder in cdramas!!

now, don't get me wrong, im not saying that kdramas can't be angsty! it's just that a lot of angst in kdramas tends to be more romance related, and as an aroace person, i don't care much for romance and that's why the angst in cdramas(not just romance related) feels and hits way harder! yes, i absolutely adored the angst in the glory freaking loved it! i live for it, but angst in cdramas tends to focus a lot more on familial and platonic relationships, and my lil heart just loves it too much!!

4) kdramas have a lot more filler than cdramas

yes, ik that cdramas are longer, but just hear me out! i have noticed that a lot of times, if you remove a couple of episodes from a kdrama, it makes no impact on the plot whatsoever! or a lot of arcs just feel like they don't deserve as much screen time, and some arcs don't make much sense either after being dragged on for so long!! meanwhile, cdramas are definitely longer, but most of them, if not all of them, are adapted from a webnovel, and that, in general, leads to them being super long! yes, it feels like they are dragging some parts out, but it all seems significant to the plot and is not just filler!

5) relationships between females are better portrayed in cdramas!!

i absolutely adore female friendships or just respectful relationships between females. and cdramas definitely do it better than kdramas! look at li susu and pian ran from TTEOTM or jiele and xiao lan hua from LBFAD or WOH or back from the brink! female connections are better portrayed in cdramas!

6) cdramas tend to be more fantasy focused than kdramas

i enjoy fantasy as a genre a lot, and cdramas tend to be more fantasy based! chinese fantasy is so interesting, and i absolutely adore wuxia/xianxia as a genre! kdramas don't have something similar, and while i adore a lot of historical kdramas, fantasy just hits differently! especially cause there is just so much to explore in chinese fantasy! look at the blood of youth, i had so much fun watching that show. and the fight scenes were so well done!

7) cdramas have beautiful platonic relationships, and i adore the found family arc a lot more in cdaramas

there is definitely a found family arc going on in most of the cdramas ive watched, and i live for it! a lot of time, the characters might not have as much screen time, but they all seem to have depth, and that makes the drama so much fun! yes, kdramas also have found family arcs, but a lot of times, the characters are purely used for comical purposes and have no back stories! they are mostly just used to fill screetime! whether it's the untamed or the starry love, the found family arc would make my heart go so soft cause all those characters have back stories and depth and i am so in love with all of them and even losing one of them can make me go feral and that's exactly why i adore cdramas!!!!!!

shortcomings of cdramas:-

a) the re-dubbing in cdarams- as you all know that China re-dubs their drama, and that can be annoying cause it's always the same va!!

b) the chinese censorship is so strict, and a lot of times, some scenes don't make it into the final cut which can be frustrating or a lot of time even getting past the censorship can be impossible!!

c) i feel that fans seem to be more critical towards cdramas! people behind the scenes put way too much effort so that we can watch their work, but how the drama changes after the censorship is not in their control! they try their best, and adapting novels is not easy!! yet the fans are less understanding towards them! i just wish the audience was a little more understanding!!

d) another problem that's persistent with most cdramas are the poorly translated subtitles! sometimes, the subtitles can be very unclear, or the translation is not accurate at and that can create a disconnect with the international fans in general!!

this is just my opinion! im not saying that cdramas are better than kdramas. i adore them both a lot! im just saying that i PREFER cdramas more! please be understanding and try to be polite when interacting with this post!! that being said, feel free to leave recommendations cause i WILL check em out ;))

[my-castles-crumbling]

hi cas

im not sure how to word this but im just gonna giev it a go i guess

so i'm a minor and i'm queer, both my parents are pretty homophobic. when i say minor, i mean that if they threw me out i'm too young to get a job

also, they're not nice to me. i don't mean in the posh kinda way- i mean it. my dad's bounced my head off the walls a couple times

i guess i got lucky with one thing and that's that no one's real mean to me about it- honest, i've been the queer awakenings of so many of my friends theyve taken to calling me casanova. i got a good card with my friends, too, but my problem is actually there

so most of my friends know my parents. a couple of the girls have made queer jokes at me in front of my parents on accident. i've had to slur and belittle my own people just to keep the damn roof over my head. i dunno if it's worth it to live with them until i'm of age- i really wanna dip at sixteen.

i dunno. thanks for reading. what do you think.

Hi hon <3

I am so sorry that this is your situation. It literally pains me to know that you and so many other kids are dealing with this, and I hope you know that you deserve so much more.

It sounds like you're smart- smart enough to know not to come out to your parents or something similar. That wouldn't be safe for you, unfortunately.

You kind of have two options, here. One- you could report your parents. It sounds like they've hurt you in the past, and if you're in the US or similar, it might be enough to be taken from them. BUT the foster system is shit, and depending on your country, that might not be the best solution, unfortunately. You have to decide which is safer for you. Which, I want to acknowledge, is an absolutely HORRIBLE decision to make at 14 or 15 or whatever age you are. Like I'm nauseous thinking about it. But that's reality.

Your second option is to start planning. However you can (in a safe way), start making money, building a support system, making a safety plan. If you make money, make sure your parents don't have access to it. Find friends and possibly adults that support you and would take you in in an emergency. Research youth shelters and low-income housing as well as emancipation options. Don't act rashly. Be smart, and weigh all your pros and cons. Again, if you can, find an adult irl who knows the full situation who you can discuss all the pros and cons with. The more you can plan before acting, the better off you'll be, but also take your safety into account. How long can you stay and save up before it starts to seriously affect your physical and mental wellbeing? Do you have a backup plan in case your parents find out and kick you out? What resources are available in your area?

These are all big, scary, adult decisions to be making, but the reality is you have to think about them. And if you need to talk any of them through, I'm here!

Naming you lily anon.

[hauntedjohnny]

You have me buzzing about Nancy and her choice of victims for different things. I didn't even think of that but now it's all I can focus on. Would it be too cheesy to have one of the Flores girls be the fertilizer... bc that makes my heart tug so sadly.... I think she'd pick Julie to eat since she's *slightly* more filled out (I am fat- I mean no disrespect to anyone by saying this lol) but also in that same regard maybe Leland or Danny? Maybe Danny bc Leland may be too lean? Sorry if you didn't want input! But you really got me thinking! I hope you have a good evening/night!

(Also I just wanted to say- I love seeing your posts! You're one of my favorite people around this f*ndom!)

you're totally okay, thank you for the ask :) sometimes it feels like shouting into the void over here lol !! i hope ur having a good day too <3

just generally i think nancy would be more picky about who she is in comparison to the main family. she would only want the best and is mildly superstitious about the spirits of who she kills.

to me it would make sense for her (and the rest of the family) to eat people who are fit and toned because they'll have a higher muscle to fat ratio so i think all the vics are gonna be good meat in that regard. there's also the thing that you shouldn't stress cattle out before you kill them as it makes the meat tougher so people like julie may actually not be the best meat. part of me wants to believe that nancy doesn't enjoy eating women, seeing them as lesser and thinking they're not good enough for her. the other part of me believes that she ~could~ potentially eat younger women with the belief that they're more fertile and that's a trait she would gain during consumption. if the latter were true i think it was only something she did in her 20/30s before she found johnny. judith was the last woman she ate. nancy became johnny's mom by consuming her, finalising the handover.

despite nancy saying "you know what happens to bodies when you plant 'em?" i feel like it makes more sense for her to use the remains/bones to grind into bonemeal but once again im of two minds. she either is picky about who she uses as her victims are her flowers and so thinks certain people (high risk victims/women like prostitutes or runaways) aren't deserving of a place in her frontyard OR she uses all of them as a body count in a way and each flower in her frontyard is someone she killed. for that first reason i do NOT think she would want maria's spirit in her house specifically for all the reasons you already know.

dumping the bodies in rivers seems to be the worst option of the three, left for people who johnny (and possibly nancy) impulsively killed. i dont see this as a thing the entire family does, just nancy and johnny. there are two radio broadcasts about rivers. the first is about the tulsa couple's IDs being found in the pedernales river which is canonically about nancy/johnny as nancy has a voiceline referring to it. it's a river fairly close to newt/austin so could possibly be a quick dumping place. the other river is devil's river where bodies were found stabbed and strangled which obviously suggests it was johnny's doing. and nancy has a line about showing the victims devil river. devil's river is a fair drive out so this river seems weirdly special for the two of them? idk if it had special meaning for nancy and then took johnny there for his first kill and then it became a special place for johnny away from nancy where he can play on his own. dumping in the river is just to dispose of evidence after an impulsive kill imo. i don't think nancy has much of the strength to transport and get rid of the body at this age so probably doesn't do it often or does it with johnny (like the tulsa couple). does make me wonder who nancy impulsively killed and disposed of in her youth. did she used to have any impulses similar to johnny that she 'grew out of'...?

[stupidthoughtsinwriting]

He isn't here anymore (Loki)

Summery: Comforting the son you were left with after the aftermath of the blip, you deal with the grief and memories that come as you as you reassure your son

I dunno what appropriate warnings to put on this so just be warned thats its very angsty and deep. sorry in advanced.

Im posting this before i do anything else and ruin it but after months of tinkering i present this....

Screams woke you from your light slumber. Never been much of a heavy sleeper, your ears instantly registered the fear filled screams coming from the other room. It pained you to hear the horrible echoes of the poor thing wailing dead at night. Quickly throwing the covers off, you ran from your room, sped out the halls to his, where you knew the cries of agony resonated.

Slowing your movements by the door, you knocked and called out his name, but his shrieks muffled out your calls. Slowly opening the remaining barrier restricting you from helping him, you caught sight of the room dim but the soft glow of moonlight, though shrouded by rain, seeping in the room. The glow was enough to help you make out figures and that’s where you saw the boy. Hiding in the dark corner of the room, by the dressers, curled up in a tight ball, screaming in agony. You slowly walked over, calling his name again and again to get his attention but your calls never broke through.

‘Sleipnir’ you called softly, desperate to calm the boy without scaring him anymore. He had his head bowed down his knees, arms hugging his legs like a lifeline, the poor boy was shaking. It pained you to see the child in anguish, in pure distress as you stay unharmed. He may not be your blood, but he was your child.

The poor thing was in complete torment, devised by his own mind from the tortures he’s had to endure due to his years as the revolting god Odin’s steed. To be taken from his mother’s grasp just after birth was enough but to be in the peak of battle at such a young age, such traumas would already be a heavy burden to man of right age but a meagre child? The mere thought of it haunts your very being, down to your bones. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he was going through, and you wouldn’t let anyone themselves think otherwise. He’s just a child. Looks to some would parallel to a five-year-old and he is. He's just at the right age to be a five-year-old in Midgardian standards. To play out with children, to study with others in preschool, to paint with their tiny hands, that’s what he should be doing. Not to suffer every moment haunted by the past but to enjoy life freely.

He’s just a child. You often wondered how he copes with the horror of his past. He’s young, you couldn’t imagine how, even if he could think through his thoughts thoroughly. You thought highly of him, just as clever as his mother and admired his strength through all of it but you worried how he is. How he handles or grasps what happened. You’re there for him but you remember it being hard to think thoroughly at such a young age. You barely remember anything from your youth, but you were sure you hardly ever thought of anything too seriously.

You love the boy to bits. He’s as much as your child as Loki’s. You’d protect him with your life even with the expense of it. You loved him as such to know he didn’t deserve any of this. Children never asked to be born, it’s the parents who bring them to this world. Though they’re grateful, they never asked to be born to slave away, to be born in such poor conditions, to live what will be a terrible life but their thankful. They make do with what they’ve got and the hardships but do parents ever really consider what will happen to them? Children are forced out of the world and others are born with privilege, but the other half are born to slave away for their keepings. It’s the hard truth in the universe and they deal with it.

You never faulted Loki for introducing you to this blessing of a lifetime. Through good days, Sleipnir is bright as the sun, clever as can be and as humorous as possible, all traits inherited from his mother and you were grateful for that. Through dark times though, the memories of battle with Odin plagued his memories, the harsh sting of a lashing as punishment eerily crawled up his skin, sending him with a harsh tug of reminiscence back to the painful torment. It wasn’t uncommon to happen during daylight but nearly every night in his first few months with you, you and Loki woke to his screams in the middle of the night and came rushing to his aid. He didn’t get much sleep for months and survived on the naps he took during the day in Loki’s arms. It worried you both, resulting in letting him sleep in your bed, held tightly by either of you but more often in Loki’s arms. He’d still wake, thrashing but was quickly comforted by Loki’s words.

You loved the boy so much but if you could have spared him the tortures, the nightly plagues, you would have let him go. If you were his mother and had at least thought of a single thing hurting him, let alone this, you would have spared him this world. He never deserved this, he’s been nothing but kind to those around him, following the instructions of others, never once breaking a rule in fear of punishment… you thought the child too pure for this world.

You knew Loki had his regrets for not protecting him and you understood, however the thoughts you had would only send him deeper into self-loathing, you couldn’t do that to him. You love them both so much, you’d rather die than hurt the ones you love.

‘Sleipnir’ you called again, taking a careful step closer, not wanting to startle the boy. He still had his face buried deep on his knees but by the third call, his screams lowered in volume due to the strain of its harsh use enough so that he could hear your soft pleas. He lifts his head hesitantly, his gorgeous ebony locks, much like his mothers, fanned at the front, covering most of the red, tear-streaked face of a beautiful young boy. His shrieks quieted down slowly as he tried to get through the fog of tears clouding his eyes.

Once he saw you, hesitant as if to not disturb an animal, crouching, just a few paces away from him, he straightened his neck, wanting to get a good look to see if there were no threats of Odin and only you. You noticed his vigilance, much like his mothers. You would have admired the likeness but due to the circumstances, you knew he looked out for fear of danger and threat. Taking another step, you announced yourself.

‘Kjæreste’ (darling) you started, knowing the familiar calling would help ease him a bit.

‘y/n?’ he questioned, not truly believing what his eyes showed.

‘Ja det er bare meg kjære. It’s only me. ingen dårlig fyr. No pain. ingen smerte’ (Yes it’s me darling/no bad guy/no pain) you affirmed. He still looked cautiously, purely out of fear.

‘No. men han var der, he to take me. han der’ (but he was there/he there) he pointed right beside the bed. You looked over and saw nothing, but his sheets thrown to the ground. He started to sob harder, and you looked back at him, seeing the crystal shimmer down his soft cheeks.

‘Nei han er borte. Gone darling.’ (no he’s gone) you said slowly standing back up, moving beside the dresser to turn on the nightlight. A soft light, the colour of morning dawn brightened the room. It helped the boy see more clearly, that the bad man wasn’t there anymore and only you.

‘See no more. He’s gone. det er bare meg som ser ut’ (it’s just me look) you keened, slowly moving back towards him. He was still trembling as he took a good look at the room. He saw nothing out of place save for the blanket and you.

‘Det er bare meg, it’s just me. han er ikke her lenger’ (It’s just me/he isn't here anymore) you continued, taking the last few steps until you’ve reached him. You went on your knees and held back on touching him at first, knowing your lesson after you did so, what seemed like a long time ago. He watched your every move, still wary and unsure of his safety.

A soft smile shaped your lips as a finger carefully swiped the hair on the front of his face, tucking it behind his ear to reveal the beautiful though red and tear-streaked face of your adopted son.

‘It’s just me darling’ you assured, letting your fingers brush away the fallen tears decorating his soft cheeks. His tears never ceased so you let them flow, knowing he needed to set them free so instead, you opted on cradling his cheek, letting your digits stroke the delicate features, all to similar to a certain god of mischief.

The touch reminded him of the ones his mother used to comfort him with. The careful caress of your fingers were much like his mamas and the kind smile you offered brought him back to the nights much like this when Loki was the one that came to console him from his nightly terror.

He leaned in the warmth of comfort you seemed to provide and your heart swelled at the sight. You kept the welled-up tears of your own at bay whilst you continue to comfort the snivelling boy.

‘Det er greit, det er bare meg. Its’ just me’ (it’s okay, it’s just me) you repeated as the child let out a whimper.

And just as the words were spoken, loud clap of thunder rang, causing the child scream out of fear and jump at you, nearly causing you to fall back. The rain tapped the windows more harshly as you wrapped your arms around the shaking boy. His cries increased in volume and there wasn’t any hope in stopping the tears anymore.

Another clash sounded and the remaining light in the room flickered. Every clap of thunder that wrang the town they lived in sent the boy whimpering each time, the horrid feel of the whip Odin used to get him to submit and obey stung his skin. Every crash brought a flash of memories the boy so desperately tried to forget.

It pained you to see him that way. You didn’t know what to do but hold him tighter. Your son was in pain and all you wished for is to take it all away. To let you suffer instead of the poor boy in your arms but when were the gods or the universe ever so kind.

You cursed Thor for the raging storm as a hand moved up and down Sleipnir’s back. He had his head buried deep in the crook of your neck. Tears soaked the tunic you wore as his tiny hands clung on to you for dear life. You tried to console him, whispering words of reassurance, telling him he was safe, but you doubted he heard you over the roaring tempest let alone his sobs.

‘Shhh, it’s okay darling. det er greit, jeg er her. det er bare onkel Thor, it’s okay’ (it's okay, I’m here/it's only Uncle Thor) you whispered in his ear, raking your fingers through his unruly raven hair.

You stayed like that for a while, never moving from your spot on the carpeted floor. You didn’t know how long it took, but you waited until the storm eased to even shift your position. The movement sent him whining though, he hugged you tighter, gripping you tight enough, I’d be very difficult to even try to pry him off you.

He let out a whimper, the motion made him think you were pulling him off you, getting sick of his clinginess but he couldn’t lose you. He’s scared of losing you. You cared for him whenever he needed, comforted him when he was scared out of his wits from a nightmare, he loved you just as much as he loved him mama and he couldn’t lose that.

‘Noo, Mummy stay’ he cried, holding you tighter. The tears you desperately held back streamed at the name. He’s never called you that before, you were always y/n to him but to be called his mummy is an honourable pleasure you will cherish till the day you die. You held him tighter; your grip rivalling his as you comforted him to the best of your abilities.

‘I’m not going anywhere darling. jeg er her, jeg er her. jeg skal ikke noe sted.’ (I’m here, I’m here/ I’m not going anywhere) you said, gently scratching his scalp. The boy cried harder, wrapping his arms around your neck as you gave him a kiss on the temple.

‘It’s okay, det er greit jeg er her, I’m here Kjæreste’ (It’s okay I’m here/darling) you whispered, laying your head against his before trying to pull back. He whined and fought to stay in the safety hidden by your hair, but you coaxed him and explained the matter.

‘Shhh its okay darling. It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere’ you repeated, pulling him gently off your shoulder and cradling his head in your hands. There you held a young boy, tear filled eyes, bloodshot and puffy, small rivers streaming down flushed cheeks and a small bright red button nose stuffed to the brim. The look of absolute fear held in those ocean eyes crushed your heart, but you forced a soft smile on your lips, wiped the dripping snot with the sleeve of your tunic and kissed the top of his head. He melted in your hold, finally feeling the absolute love you held for him in every form of affection you gave and the safety you promised him long ago.

‘I, we have to move though Kjæreste’ (darling) you explained, letting your fingers wipe the tears that flowed. He whined at the word move, but you quickly assured him.

‘Just off the floor Kjæreste. Maybe to my room, where you’ll stay with me in bed’ (darling) you offered, knowing he was too scared to be alone on his own. He looked at you with those beautiful blue green teary eyes, making sure you weren’t going and leaving him before giving you a faint nod. Your grin grew a bit wider as you wiped the continuously -though reduced- flowing tears for the last time -or atleast for the time being- and placed a longing kiss on his head, wanting him to assure that you weren’t going anywhere.

‘Vil at jeg skal bære deg søt?’ (Want me to carry you sweet?) you asked. He nodded more eagerly, knowing to wrap his arms around your neck tightly and carefully around your waist. He hid his head back on the crook of your neck, still letting out soft sniffs as a hand went to his back once again to caress the curve of his spine. Stilling the movement as you stood up, you quickly bent to get the green blanket -one that used to be the cape of your husbands- thrown to the ground and grey wolf stuffie from the bed before you made your way to your room.

You opted to sit on the rocking chair near the window first, well aware how the gentle rock helped him calm down. Sitting down, you nudged the nose of the wolf to his cheek, making him turn and see the toy. With your signature kind smile, you gave him the cuddle toy and he held it very close to himself, laying his head on your shoulder as he admired the plush. You covered him with his blanket, making sure he was comfortable and secured before you leaned back on the chair.

He still let out small sniffles, holding the wolf gifted by his mama close to him as your fingers moved the few stray strands of hair the fell and covered his face. You gave him another peck on the head, resuming the gentle caress of your hand on his back, in tune with the chair as you laid your head on his.

You figured on humming a tune, an Asgardian song Loki used to sing to you and used as a lullaby for Sleipnir. You haven’t done it before, but it seems to be working as he was relaxing in your hold. He removed a hand from his grip on the toy and laid it across your chest, gripping the tunic and some of your skin, tight. You melted at the small gesture, surely unnoticed by him but meaning the world to you.

‘I miss mamma’ he whispered out of nowhere. You lifted your head to look at him, but he let his head stay where it was, he didn’t move so you placed your head back. He hasn’t spoken to you about this before, but you understood.

‘I miss him too’ you replied, merely a murmur but he heard.

Three and a half months ago, half of the living people in the universe disappeared. Thanos used the infinity stones to wipe out half of all living creatures with just the snap of his fingers. Loki was among the half that got dusted.

You were far away from the battle, out here in your little cottage in Norway with Sleipnir. You begged him to not go when the news of Odin’s absence in Asgard reached your home. Sleipnir was frightened out of his wits when he heard the name but you both comforted him, telling him the bad man was never going to see let alone hurt him again.

Loki had to go. He had to. Not only look for his father but to see to the people of Asgard. He promised to be back in a short while, he just had to do this. He promised it wouldn’t be long, that he’d be back before you knew it and stupidly, you reluctantly agreed.

It turned out that Odin wasn’t far from your home. That he perished just up the cliff, near the neighbouring village of the one you took residence in. That his death caused the release of his estranged daughter and her massacre on Asgard. That the only way to stop her was to trigger Ragnarök and destroy the Realm Eternal.

It turned out that on the way back here on Midgard, their ship was attacked by Thanos and his sick children. They got a lot of the people into escape pods but there was already so much death. Less than half of those that survived Hela’s destruction made it to the escape pods, Valkyrie in lead of them. They turned up on Midgard’s orbit a month after but the few heads that stayed on the vessel barely made it or didn’t at all.

You knew something wasn’t right days after Loki’s departure and your suspicions were confirmed when you heard screams in the village nearby. The people were disappearing but your heart truly broke when a knock came to your door. Cautiously with the dagger you were given to protect yourself with, you answered and met the bloody god of thunder. He looked awful, truly worse for wear but the look of grief that painted his face told you faster than whatever words he were to utter.

You broke, only for a second. A hand covered your mouth as you slid down to the floor, dropping the dagger beside you as quiet muffled screams left you and tears streamed from your cheeks. The tantrums you wanted to act on diminished when you heard the soft call of your name. Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you turned around to see the raven-haired boy peaking his head out from the corner, holding tightly on to his wolf.

Thor told you what happened after you put Sleipnir to bed that night. He told you everything. How Loki fought bravely and honourably. How he saved the people. How you and Sleipnir were a constant thought and mention, whenever in conversation. How he had to face Thanos. How he made Thor promise to protect you both when he was gone.

You let him stay in the cottage, to get himself cleaned up and to stay the night. You asked him to watch over the oblivious sleeping boy as you just had to get out. You screamed when you reached the top of the cliff. You let out all the hurt and grief you felt but you couldn’t do much. You couldn’t let yourself stress too much on the matter, but it was hard. You cried all the tears you could and screamed till your throat ached, but you had to take care of yourself. You couldn’t lose yourself and he wouldn’t want that. You still had Sleipnir and this just added to the mountain of grief he’s already experience, so you couldn’t lose yourself, for him, for both them.

Stalking back to your home, you quickly checked on your husband’s son before you cried yourself to sleep, holding his pillow tight against you and soaking it with tears.

Loki was brilliant. He was a perfect parent to Sleipnir. He had his faults and mistakes, but he was perfect. You missed the nights where he held you close, tightly wound in his arms or the nights where he took Sleipnir back to bed with him, the boy encased in his mother’s embrace while still having a hold on you. Always so doting to the both of you. How he loved you both so much and how you loved him back, you missed him. So so much.

‘I miss him so much’ you added, stumbling over your words as tears sprung to your eyes. The boy lifted his head to see you in the brink of breaking, so he shifted to wrap an arm around your neck and plant a kiss on your cheek.

‘I love you mummy’ he spoke tiredly, scratching an eye before letting his hand settle back around your neck. He laid his head on your clavicle, burrowing himself on your neck just like how his mother did before falling asleep.

Tears poured at the young boy’s confession. It was hard for him to open up, even to Loki but you were slowly breaking through his walls and now you’ve reached the other end. Like the many other forms of affection he’s presented this night, this was a new one. He’s never told you he loved you, but you knew he did in his own way, he didn’t have to say it. But to hear it is just another thing.

‘I love you too Kjæreste’ (darling) you replied, placing a kiss where your lips could reach and pulled him closer.

You hummed the song again until you reached the part where the lyrics came. Singing softly, you remembered the times Loki serenaded you with the very same song, pulling you to your feet, swaying to the delicate melody he sang angelically. You remembered how he changed the gentle ballad to lively music, the sound of your laughter mixing with the song as he pranced around after having a few too many pints of mead. How he shifted the song into a lullaby, you standing hidden behind the door as he hymned the song to the boy in his arms.

Men trærne de danser

Og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger

Kom hjem

Men trærne de danser

Og fossene stanser

When she sings she sings come home

When she sings she sings come home

You let the chair rock back and forth, drawing abstracts on his back. Feeling his breathing relax, you closed your eyes, your memories drifting to the first night you caught the sight of your husband lulling his son back to sleep after another tormented nightmare.

He held him close, the boy tightly clasped in his mother’s embrace, head laid on the crook of his neck and his tiny arms wrapped around it, the sight warmed your heart. Loki had his back on the headboard, head laid lightly on the boy’s head as you heard him hum the lullaby.

I stormsvarte fjell jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger: når kommer du hjem?

Men trærne de danser

Og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger

Kom hjem

The memory of him holding the boy tighter just as he finished the song played in your head and unconsciously you did the same. The child had fallen asleep in his arms, finally a look of peace painted in that gorgeous feature. He planted a kiss on his head, staying a little bit longer with him whilst you went back to your room.

Now you held his boy in your arms. The slow even huffs of air you felt on your neck was enough indication that he’d finally fallen asleep. You continued rocking the chair and moving a hand up and down his back as you placed a lingering kiss on the top of his head.

The longing for your late husband bared as unknown tears shed. He was so much like his mother. The nightly terrors you helped Loki himself nurse were full of you whispering words of comfort and him wrapped tightly around you. The mother and son were alike in ways some only you would notice and you cherished each and every single similarity to heart.

Wiping away the tears that fell, that usually were kissed off by your beloved, you held the boy tight, securing the blanket on him before standing up and moving to the bed. You sat on the edge, him still in your arms as you swung your legs up on the mattress. You knew the boy wouldn’t allow you off his grip and learned from times before that it was better to keep him in your hold.

You toed the duvet up to cover at least your legs as you settled your boy beside you, pulling up the green fabric of his comforter, resting it just on his shoulder and laying his head on your arm. A hand was still firmly clutched on his wolfie, so you let the other draped over your chest, his grip on the tunic tightening one placed.

His hold was possessive. Either a show of his need and love for you or his protectiveness, you felt both and you just knew Loki would be so proud of him for protecting and just being there for his mummy. You couldn’t bare the thought of being alone after the snap. You would have writhed in your grief and lose yourself if you had not had your children. You barely would have had the will to continue on without a purpose but yourself. It’s selfish down to the bone but you felt its truly how you felt. Without the boy in your arms or the child your darling husband left as his final gift to you, you couldn’t imagine a future without your family. You thanked every god that heard you for blessing you with a purpose and keeping your children safe. It was just enough to dull the ache of losing Loki and keep yourself together but the grief stayed and you just knew that it would stay there for a very long time.  

Maybe he’d be proud of you too, for taking care of yourself and pushing through the grief so to take care of your family. For persevering through every trouble thrown your way and still standing out strong, still taking care of yourself for the kids. You knew he would have wanted you to live for yourself as well, but you just couldn’t do it. You’d live for the memory of him but if you had nothing, you wouldn’t be here, not without him.

These were the thoughts you used to cope. The belief that your prince would be proud of what you’ve done. For keeping the people he loved the most safe and cared for.

You feared the thoughts that dwelled in your mind, his fury for being so careless with his offspring’s and his beloved. You feared the look of disappointment that would paint his face if he ever saw you lose yourself and you feared that too. Losing your self wasn’t an option but you feared the day that you might or might have.

A hand continued the ministrations on the boy’s back, moving up and down while the other went to your protruding bump. The usual soft fluttering you felt becoming more and more sensible as the babe gained its strength and started moving around. A small grin drew your lips as the baby started kicking lightly.

‘It’s okay darling, I’m okay. Only big brother with a nightmare’ you whispered, caressing your stomach right where the child kicked. You’ve grown to learn that the baby grew a bit restless when it sensed that something wasn’t right, much like its father.

The foetus is only 5 months old, but your bump would be mistaken for a woman farther along in her gestation. You’ve heard from the surviving elders of Asgard that the babe is rather small for a Jotun but considering the child is half mortal and that Loki was rather small as a babe himself, you thought it normal. You were still big, but you loved the child and couldn’t wait for them to be born.

You were 6 weeks long when you told Loki and the gleam in his eyes was worth every pain you were in. He held you in a tight embrace as tears brimmed both your eyes before he lifts you high, much to your surprise. With a yelp, he spun you around the room, chuckles and laughter leaving both your lips as you begged him to put you down.

Following your pleas, as soon as your feet touched the floors, his lips captured yours. He poured every ounce of love and gratitude he held into the kiss, holding you so carefully as the thought of carrying such sacred cargo bared in his mind.

What you’d give to feel those lips on yours again. The sight of stunning emerald orbs staring back with such love and fondness…

You looked around the room, what used to be your shared bedroom, lighted only by the dim lamp you’ve turned on after coming back with Sleipnir. The rain had eased to a light shower, ceasing its harsh beating on the windows and letting the raindrops race to the bottom.

The room or the house itself lost its light when Loki… passed. The laughter filled halls now screamed silently with only two souls managing the home, both grieving the loss of a loved one. A shadow hung around and dimmed the room like never before with the house’s master gone and entertainment had been scarce, but you did your best to bring life back to your home through no success.

This will always be your home. The memories so carefully made and savoured were rooted in this lodging. The late-night dances to the moonlight, the afternoons spent colouring and playing in the living room with both your boys, and the lazy mornings where the whole of your family snuggled up on the couch to either watch a film of sorts or the snow fall. These memories were all made in this cabin you and Loki worked so hard on building, you’d fight to protect the last few gifts your darling has left you with.

The green tunic of his that you wore was damp with mixtures of snot and tears. Both from your own tears and the boy that you held in your arms. The pillow of his beside your head had begun to lose his scent yet you still relished whatever you had left of him. You had to. To keep the memory of him in your mind as the final throws of denial ebbed away. You had to accept it. Finally, and fully accept that he isn’t here anymore. Though it broke your heart to admit, you had to accept the reality of it in preparation for the new life he fought so bravely to protect.

‘It’s okay. We’re going to be okay.’ You muttered for the benefit of everyone in the room, stroking the swell of your stomach as the babe finally settled to rest. You blinked back your tears and wiped the fallen few with a free hand before uttering a simple thanks prayer to your beloved and falling to the abyss of sleep.

‘Thank you darling. For everything. For the life you chose to trust me in caring for. For the family you left me with. For the love you gave me. I miss you so much. So so much. Thank you and I love you.’

sorry... i warned to the best of my ability which was awful i admit but i do hope you enjoyed it💚

this may be rubbish but the hell with it. im still trying to figure out writing so... yah

[seravphs]

Toji is my least favorite character.. IM SORRY TUMBLR

I just don’t think that being attractive to others makes you not evil when you do bad things-

There’s definitely people out there that only like Toji because he’s hot and good for them tbh! I personally don’t think he’s a villain because it would be hypocritical of me.

JJK has brought up how children should be allowed to be children multiple times. Nanami says it. Gojo says it. It’s easy to put this into practice when it’s Itadori or Megumi. We know these boys. We love these boys. They’re good kids.

It’s a lot harder when it’s Toji, isn’t it?

He’s not a good kid. He’s not even a kid! We see him as a grown man terrorizing our beloved hs Gojo and Geto. The jokes have a tinge of reality to them - why is he thirty beefing with high schoolers 🤨?

But Toji was a kid once too, and if I ignore that, I would feel like I’m cherry-picking the themes of JJK to suit what’s most palatable to me, as if because Toji’s harder to sympathize with, he’s less deserving. You don’t start over as a blank slate once you become an adult. What Toji is at thirty is derived from what happened to him when he was younger. If I believe in what Gojo says, that we should preserve the youth of children, then isn’t it hypocritical of me to approach Toji from a one dimensional perspective? Didn’t the Toji that was being abused by the Zenin clan as a child deserve to be saved?

It’s undeniable that he’s a pretty shitty adult. But I can’t bring myself to singlemindedly despise him ☹️ I think he’s very tragic and he breaks my heart (to care about him because I’m a Gojo stan lol).

[megafaunatic]

idk if ur like open to randos in ur asks giving u media recommendations, but i would give anything in the world for u to try and give the k-novel 'return of the blossoming blade' by BIGA a chance... UR MY FAVE CONTENT CREATOR SINCE THE YE OLDEN TGCFMDZS DAYS SO I WANTED TO AT LEAST TRY LOLLL its like my favourite novel of all time and ive been trying to force it upon everyone with little avail, which i dont understand WHYY cuz its SOO GOOOD like it definitely deserves to have the same level of popularity w international fans as MDZS and TGCF had, but for now it remains a hidden gem.......... it's an insanely long novel i will nawt lie (1.5k+ chapters and updating everyday but only like 500smth have been tl'd into english on the fantl site Sky Demon Order[who also post semi-daily]) but its sosososo worth it i prommy..trust me..:smiles: it's a classic 'hero from the past who died a tragic and preventable(?) death reincarnates a hundred years into the future hiding his identity to teach the youth in order to keep the future generation from following in his footsteps and making the same mistakes he did' but without all the stale, predictable, boringness u'd typically expect from that specific genre... it's an incredibly comedic action novel that takes place in ancient china wuxia setting & focuses primarily on found family and those close familial bonds between the main cast behind all the sword fighty action (dont know how to fit this in anywhere else, but its important to me that u know the mc, chung myung, is the main casts grandpa.. hes their peepaw.. he shows affection by beating them on their heads). theres no romance at all, but i would argue that is a SELLING POINT for this novel like i swear it is so refreshing, the found family of it all means soo much to me, so much so i am now going to force it to mean so much to you too(this is a threat).... if u do gaf abt ships tho then maybe the doomed, tragic, best-friends-to-almost lovers tangchung yaoi and the love at first sight iseolsoso yuri might catch ur eye *LOOKS AT YOU* i genuinely really really feel like it would be straight up ur alley, like its definitely smth i feel would at least peak ur interest imo (chung myung, the mc, is probably my fave mc of all time..at eighty two years young, he IS the next peoples princess and i want to hit him with my car and then nurse him back to health just to hit him again.. i feel like u'd enjoy him like that as well).. im so desperate for more eng fans of this novel u cant see me rn but i am biting into a leather belt trying not to sob and cry out loud as im typing this this is so long im so embarrawsed so ill leave u here.. i hope my pleas have touched ur heart in some way and if the novel chapter count is too intimidating, ROTBB also has a webcomic on webtoons by the same name (season two of the webcomic just started ^__^ ) and the art is so good and funny and its a good way to get into the novel without being overwhelmed by the chp count methinks BUT i would definitely consider reading the novel mandatory cuz the webcomic only fills u in on so much.... ok. i hope u managed to get thru this insane wall of text, my bad.. until we meet again...*salutes* *revs up my motorcycle and disappears behind a cloud of smoke but when the dust settles i am laying dead on the floor*

ok so first of all i respect this so much 🫡 thank you for spreading your passion in the final moments before your motorcycle dirt death 🫡🫡🫡

second of all this does sound really fun !!! i have found it on sky demon order and i'll give it a try... BUT i gotta be real over a thousand chapters and only two hundred of them translated AND no romance is unfortunately killing me... i just dont know if i have the stamina for that... im a horrible little fujo if its THAT long theres gotta be some kissing!!!!! sorry 😭😭

for u i will give it a try but i can make no promises 🫡 i will consider chung myung my blorbo in law tho

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

I just got sad thinking about growing old and all that cheating husband. It's that comment at the end saying that they hope the person reading that gets the same love as the got in their youth. And it kinda killed me because I'm not getting love in my youth, I'm here being ignored by every men ever and I don't think that would change as I grow old. I think I'm the boring stinky wife husbands cheats on lmao, if I ever get a hudband that is.

This ask makes me so so sad bc i don't want you to feel this way. I don't want you to feel hopeless around love or romance. I don't want you to call yourself stinky or boring bc you're not :( i don't know you but i don't think you deserve to feel this way.

Look, i get it. I'm not experiencing any love right now either. I'm 24, I'm still technically a virgin, I've never even kissed anyone, the only "relationship" I've ever had was long distance with someone i clung onto bc i was lonely and insecure. Hell, just today i posted a picture of my naked body bc i wanted attention from people on the internet. I get it, i get the feeling of not being loved and searching high and low for scraps of it. I know how you feel and it's scary, yes... but it isn't the end. This isn't the end. What you're going through right now is not what you'll be going through in a year from now. Your life is going to change in so many ways, even if it doesn't look like it will. You may get a cat or dog. You may get a new job. You might pick up a new hobby. And along the way you will meet new people, friends and foes, people that feel indifferent towards you and people that love you. It won't even be romantic love all the time, sometimes it'll just be platonic, but their lives will be better with you in it.

My therapist tells me that im just sad bc im lonely, and i have a feeling you might be the same. It's hard to make friends nowadays, and it's hard to keep them, but it's still possible. I asked some people at work for their phone numbers so i could get closer to them. I bonded with other coworkers over crochet and crafts. Some coworkers i just gossip with, but it all helps my brain from going crazy, and i think it'll help you too. We're primates, we need socialization or else we'll get depressed. Reach out to those around you. Ask people about their hobbies or interests. Ask how their weekend went. Make jokes with them. Soak up that socialization like a sponge and let it soothe you.

This is getting long and going all over the place so let me just say one last thing: you don't need a man to be loved. You don't need to be loved in your youth by a partner. You need to take care of yourself and show yourself the love you want to receive. I want you to be happy, whether you're in a relationship or alone. I think you deserve to be happy.

[meatriarchived]

❛  when i get out of here, i’m going to kill you. i promise you that.  ❜ / guy in no position to make threats, making threats (im handing him over to thomas knowing it's so over so do whatever u want with him <3) | @lifesver

oh but what if i were to continue from here - cw for d.eath / g.ore / v.iolence / t.orture / s.kinning / s.calping

gut-wrenching screams from the girl hanging from meathook ceased abruptly as chainsaw worked through her abdomen, body jerking lifelessly by the force of the blades and motor ripping through flesh and bone.

the saw is silenced as its' yanked without care back out of her, sending a HEATED PILE of maria's insides splattering down onto the floor below her. turning to place the saw down, now off, thomas turns head towards the BOY opposite to what was once former friend, and the air continues to fill with the boys hoarse, horrendously heart-breaking screams and cries and wails, of THREATS THOMAS KNOWS HE HAS NO BUSINESS MAKING.

and to lelands' ears through his own spitting of VENOM at the hulking figure before him, comes a deep, yet quiet chuckle.

amusement was found in hazel eyes from past leathered half-mask as thomas looked down at the boy.

HE DESERVED TO FEEL THIS ACHE.

thomas moves closer to leland, head tilting down at the boy - a crumpled mess of tears and hate and broken determination - and large, calloused, dirtied hands reach up and grabs at lelands' jaw, forcing his head from side to side, ignoring the continuous onslaught of insult and threat to observe the face on this one. how jawline curves to meet throat, how brows accentuate the eyes glowering up at him...thomas finds his other hand touching his own face gingerly, carefully - and eyes darken at what the man has in store.

hand rips off lelands' face and he grabs him by the arms, hoisting him up quickly to free him from his suspension by chains on the beams above their heads, throwing him onto the ground to break chainlink as the force of hitting the ground knocks the air from him. without a second to spare him to catch breath, thomas has him lifted once again and tossed over his shoulder, turning to the large slab of wooden table in the middle of the room - to his butchers' block - and drops leland right atop it, head swinging down first to black him out - to give thomas enough time to keep him still.

as leland's vision blackens and blurs in and out from back to back impact, thomas scours about for heavy nails and mallet, and limb by limb he circles the butchers' table, hammering down steel onto ankle and wrist and throat to ensure no likelihood of escape for the brave, resilient, DOOMED YOUNG JOCK.

as he does so, thomas recalls the last few hours - where the family had been alerted by luda mae's call of a group of kids' wanderin' about, to keep eye and ear out for them. he recalls peering out the windows of the home, to see this same one ATTACKING HIS FAMILY.

visions of him knocking sissy over-

visions of him tackling johnny onto the ground, fists beating down wildly-

visions of him trying desperately to get thomas' attention, of grabbing anything heavy he could find and lift to then THROW AT HIM-

jaws clench and teeth grind down against one another as thomas remembers all too well what THIS ONE IN PARTICULAR did to HIS FAMILY.

IT WILL NOT BE FORGIVEN.

thomas' grip on heavy mallet in hand tightens, and, as anger surges in his chest he lifts it above leland's body and brings it down onto his legs - SHATTERING BONE, ELICITING SUDDEN SCREAM OF AGONY FROM HIM.

the sound is DELICIOUS to thomas' ears, and once again, for other leg, does he bring the mallet down - BONES YET AGAIN BREAKING UNDERNEATH WELL-WORKED MUSCLE. and as leland writhes on the table, his dear little friends' face above his view, staring down blankly down at him, thomas circles the table to stand beside both youths. hand reaches up, oh so tenderly lifting maria's face, head drooped without life to keep upright any longer, and looks it over, brushing away what was once beautiful brunette locks to get a better look, and then lets go - letting head drop down once again.

thomas looks to leland again, spitting curses and threat in between sob and anguish and pain in spite of his position. in spite of knowing damn well that this is the end.

thomas sets mallet down, and lifts up a blade in its place - a delicate thing in such massive hands, kept exceptionally sharp, exceptionally precise. and thomas returns in front of maria, gathering hair in opposite hand, pulling it away from once lively features, and sets blade against throat, and ever so slowly, carefully, experienced, does it glide through skin to opposite side, curtain of red slowly oozing down to chest from incision.

and thomas ensure leland watches - in between all USELESS BABBLING AND SPUTTERING AND PLEADS - as he meticulously continues incision all around maria's head and face, until he meets the original point of entry and he sets blade down. and dirtied fingers push between skin and muscle to find holding, and thomas slowly PEELS OFF HER SKIN FROM AROUND HER SKULL, strings of blood stretching from muscle to MASK.

he carefully removes her face until it is resting in hands, and thomas returns to the side of the butcher table, eyes focused on leland's face as he drops maria's down on his chest, hollowed eyes stare in his direction.

as leland devolves into horrified incoherence, thomas' hands reach to back of head, untying his half mask and slipping it off, dropping it off to the side. it has used up it welcome across his face.

thomas can see clearly the closeness that these TRESPASSERS, these ASSAILANTS have with one another - it is akin, in his eyes, to the bonds of his family. and like any of them would weep over the loss of one of their own, thomas knows it is the same for THESE ONES.

he already took care of the first that johnny brought home - the girl, whose face lies atop of her friend. he remembers her clearly. doe eyes wide in horror up at him. her kicking and screaming. her pleads and sobs to let her go. thomas almost felt sorry for her. she seemed kind. yet, he had seen the claw marks made by her on johnnys' arms and face - and he knew she could not be kept around. she harmed him, and she could not stay alive to do WORSE.

and now, with these other five running about, attacking HIS FAMILY, HURTING THEM, BEING CRUEL TO THEM, INSULTING HIM-

thomas knew very well where to dig in and twist the knife with this one. and he's going to dig and twist just a little deeper before he ends his miserable, short-lived life.

hand finds maria's face, turning and fiddling with it, finding the cut separating the back of her head, and - eyes keeping down on leland, meeting and keeping contact with the young mans' own, THOMAS SLIPS MARIA'S FACE OVER HIS OWN, slowly fitting it over his own features, tugging and pulling carefully, until maria's face sits so unnaturally, so horribly stretched out, over the disfigured features of his own. adjusting it as eyes stay focused on leland - through sockets that once held maria's kind, gentle, warm sunbathed honey-brown irises. the eyes that he had known for so long, now replaced by this monsters' own.

HE WORE HER FACE NOW.

SHE NO LONGER EXISTED - and he parades her face now, taunting the life of a girl far too sweet for the evils of this world.

❛ when i get out of here, i’m going to kill you. i promise you that. ❜

another amused sound comes from the man looming over leland. his threats mean nothing, and thomas knows that he knows this. he is all but wasting breath and energy fighting against restraints, eyes wild and mad, tears overflowing in all directions as helplessly, hatefully, he stares back at the man who has made mockery of maria's face.

thomas finds handle of chainsaw once again, lifting it and giving the string a harsh tug - letting it roar once again back to life. eyes find lelands, and voice sounds out above the mechanical screams of the saw as thomas retorts back to him - responding at last to all the vitriol lelands' last breath were wasted on,

"YOU JOIN HER NOW. TELL HER SHE WAS PRETTY."

with that, chainsaw is lifted up in air and comes down, vertically aligned to his chest, and as was done to maria moments ago, it breaks through skin and muscle and bone into leland's abdomen, sending flurries and sprays of blood and intestine and organ in all directions, painting the room in a fresh crimson. and as quickly as they began, leland's blood-curdling screams die off into silence as body jolts and jerks about on the butchers' table, until thomas has made an utter mess of body.

IT MAY NOT BE USABLE AS MEAT, BUT THOMAS KNOWS THAT THIS IS ONE THAT JOHNNY MAY LIKE TO KEEP A WHILE LONGER.

saw eases to stop, set down beside table as thomas walks slowly to the head of it, looming above leland's blank stare up at him. hands reach for it, and slowly caress against face, tilting it from one side to the other, looking at skin and nose and jawline, at lips and cheeks.

HE WAS ALSO PRETTY.

small blade is returned in hand as thomas leans closer down to the boy, and, like marias' before, thomas slowly works at peeling face from skull, carefully separating muscle and ligament from skin layers, until he holds it gently in hand, looking it over, ensuring there isn't need to fix edges, before standing and walking to the old sewing machine some feet away.

the man plops down into chair in front of it, switching on light in arms reach and finding thread and needle, creating adjustable ties for when he's ready to slip on another HANDSOME FACE.

[cartoonishvendor]

hello tumbel-er dot com user CARTOONISHVENDOR, give me more Maggotblood lore. I am insatiable

well, welcome to my tumblr, anon possibly here from my art fight account!! for anyone confused, we're talking about this girlie today:

i haven't posted about her or Long After StarClan on my tumblr once, not as far as i remember. that stuff is mainly in my head, on my art fight account and my youtube, even the starting phases of the story went to my priv twitter (rip in pieces), so im actually really stoked to talk about her now!!

last disclaimer before a read more bc i fear i may make this super long: details of her story are subject to change, since Long After StarClan doesn't exist as a tangible fanfic or comic or anything yet!

that's all, let's go!!

let's start at the beginning: Maggotblood was born to the ShadowClan warrior Blaze (orange tabby shorthair, green eyes) and the kittypet Nellie (white singlecolor shorthair, blue eyes), as the only kit of her litter.

Blaze was part of a sort of ShadowClan youth sub-culture, one a little inspired by RiverClan. this might make absolutely no sense, but it will when you take a look at the differences between Clans in the Long After StarClan universe. the TL:DR here is that LAS RiverClan is a haven of toxic, battle-obsessed behaivor, and some young warriors in ShadowClan either found that really cool, or felt so provoked they decided to start mirroring that exact behaivor (more of the latter, none of them really liked RiverClan). So, Blaze was this really abraisive, over-confident and bloodthirsty warrior whom always bragged about how good he was at everything. naturally, very little other cats in the clan liked him as a result of that. thus, he began seeking admiration from other sources. enter: Nellie

Nellie might not have seemed like it at first, but she matched Blaze's arrogance quite well. she was stuck-up and though she only ever deserved the best, which she thought she found in Blaze. So basically, think Onestar and his kittypet fling and you kinda get Blaze's and Nellie's story. but their whole flirtery grinds to a halt abruptly when it turns out Nellie is pregnant. at first, Nellie isn't really against the idea of kits, knowing but not telling Blaze she knows her twolegs will jsut take them away anyway and they can focus on her again. but Blaze is horrified (not that he'd admit to that of course). tension against outsiders was, for ambiguous reasons, at a bit of a high at that time, and if anyone found out he had kittens with a kittypet it would be a severely blow to his reputation (or the reputation he thought he had). Nellie catches on to this pretty quickly and she's kind of furious when Blaze more or less accidentally admits he only her saw her as a fling, not as the great cat she thought herself of as. when she gave birth to her single kitten, she felt not a single ounce of motherly care for it and decided instead she'd punish Blaze for lying to her. she marches straight into ShadowClan camp, drops off the kitten, and explains who the father is, which Blaze tries desparately to refute, but the resemblance of that kitten and Blaze was just too clear, she even had the same forehead markings as him! so yeah, now everyone knew Blaze did that and he was so butthurt that he never took care of his kit and instead left her in the care of an unrelated queen who didn't care much about her either.

the queen, as well as the rest of the Clan, including Blaze, never made a really big secret out of the fact that Maggotblood was not related to the queen raising her. one day, she felt so starved for motherly attention that she begged Blaze to take her to see her real mother. I did a short PMV about this scene, basically they get to Nellie's twolegnest, Nellie and Blaze fight and then Nellie says really hurtfult things about Maggotblood, practically disowning her a second time.

so they go back, Maggotblood feels absolutely horrible, and at one point, when she was still a kittten, she tried to run away from camp. she got herself hurt and wound up in the medicine den. now, that encounter in there was not the first time she's seen Giantcloud, her future mentor, for more than a few moments. time to get into a LAS specific ritual, yippie!!

so, if you may have noticed, it seems that no clan cat has a canonical clan name, apart from the medicine cats. theres a reason for that!! LAS plays around the Lake territories with the vaguely recent canonical territoy distributions. and the lake territory has the Moonpool as the primary connection hub to StarClan, right?

in Long after StarClan it's uh. it's fucking dried out!!

(scene from this video)

the Moon's Deep is still the meetup spot for medicine cats every half a moon in this universe, but it's also ground for another ritual: when a kitten is between the ages of 1 and 6 moons, on a half moon, they are brought to the Moon's Deep once, in company of the clan's medicine cats (and maybe the parents too, case by case basis). there, they are expected to spend a night sleeping in the gigantic drained pool. and whatever dream they wind up having can and will determine their future role in the clan.

you see, the reason Long After StarClan is called that is that StarClan is absent in the story for the most part. a secondary role medicine cats play here is lorekeeping which includes finding out whatever they can about StarClan and the past, but it's very much in the background of this story. and without StarClan, you can't really have cats with a strong bond to it, making this the centralized way clan cats decide who will be fit for being a doctor and who won't.

Maggotblood, as her dream determined, was also fit to be one. but at that point in time, ShadowClan already had a medicine cat apprentice. Hawthorn, this girlie:

she hated being a doctor and she wanted to be the leader instead, and she was really relieved when it turned out Maggotblood could replace her, but until she could be apprenticed, Hawthorn had to stay in the medicine den.

By ShadowClan tradition, cats are allowed to give themselves their name once they hit 6 moons and are apprenticed. Maggotblood, just a nameless kitten back then, decided to name herself Jasmine, after the flowers in Nellie's garden. until that point, she only really had one cat occasionally looking out for her, whom she considered a friend, and that was Misty. but as soon as she became the medicine cat apprentice, it felt like a whole new world had opened it's doors for her. Jasmine met the other medicine cats for the first time and they were all nice to her, respected her, and she became really good friends with Runner (later Lakerunner), the apprentice of WindClan. and Giantcloud became the cat she trusted the most, he was like a father to her.

during her apprenticeship, Blaze died in a badger attack. Jasmin did not know how to feel, or how to talk about this. surprisingly, she wound up bonding with the RiverClan medicine cat, Waspvenom, over it, since he had a complicated relationship with his biological family too.

the six moons of apprenticeship, the best six moons of her life, ended with her and Runner's final naming ceremony. much like how a dream determines your role, for medicine cats it also determiens your final name despite all rules your Clan has for naming. Runner become Lakerunner, after a dream of him running across the lake. Jasmine, however, had a terrifying dream about carcasses, those of hundreds of cats, swarming with maggots. shaken up, she tells her fellow medicine cats that her new name is Maggotblood, whether she wants it or not.

was it a dream or was it a vision? could have been both, considering what happens next in her story. but this is already so long and if you ever want the TBC it'll have to be another post, sowwy!!

[maschotch]

Mirror, Mirror

day eight: monster

if this is exactly the same as that other post, no it isnt :) i was too lazy (aka indecisive) to come up with names for hotch’s parents. which might make things a little confusing but it’s better than giving them names im gonna regret a week from now. tw child abuse (mentioned)

Mirrors had always been a bit of an issue for Hotch. He tried not to look directly at them if he didn’t have to, and would duck his head when passing a window that seemed adamant to show his reflection. It made shaving a little tricky, but as long as he focused on the task at hand he could manage to avoid thinking about the face looking back at him. A face that wasn’t just his own.  

Hotch looked like his father.

He’s gotten used to it by now, but back when the testosterone kicked in as a budding teenager, it would freak him out every time he passed a mirror, like a manifestation of his nightmares

What was he supposed to do if the ghost that haunted him wore his face?

Sometimes, on nights when it didn’t seem like sleep would come no matter how hard he tried, and with the comforting burn of amber liquor lingering in the back of his throat, he set aside his reservations, braced his hands on the edge of the sink, and studied himself in the mirror. He would frown at first; he was always frowning, but having to actually see the tense expression he automatically wore every day caused him to properly scowl.

This is what people saw when they looked at him?

He ran his hands over his mouth but it just made him look more exhausted. He tried to relax and trailed his fingertips across each of his features. The sharp jawline, distinct cheekbones, prominent brows, dark hair, and deep, sunken eyes were all too similar to the monster from his youth he didn’t need a daily reminder of.

The mirror seemed to mock his unease. He glared menacingly, but despite his attempts at intimidation, the mirror was unphased. He bit his cheek until he tasted copper—anything to drown out the bitter taste in his mouth as he locked eyes with the foul creature he hated most.

Learning to hate his father took him longer than he wanted to admit. His undeveloped mind had such a limited grasp on the world; by the time he even realized dads weren’t supposed to cause their kids pain, he had already accepted that he deserved it. Surely he must’ve done something. His father was a respectable, reputable man with deep connections within the community. He wasn’t yet able to process that all people were capable of bad things—even the ones he looked up to. Layers of lies and misunderstanding enveloped his understanding of the world.  

It was a bit of a shock to realize it wasn’t normal for his heart to pound frantically when he heard heavy footsteps approach down the hall. It wasn’t normal to know the taste of cigarette ash, or recognize the sting of alcohol from flying shards of glass. It wasn’t normal to grope his way to his bed in the darkness after being struck blind. It wasn’t normal to be more familiar with the feeling of his father’s fist more than his embrace.

He wasn’t normal. It took years to learn that it wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was something he still struggled to unlearn decades later.

He isolated himself from the other kids in the neighborhood. Even if his mother hadn’t warned him not to embarrass their family, he was already sure that they would notice everything that was wrong with him. He was disgusting, a disappointment, something to be reviled. So he kept his distance. Not that any of them were particularly interested in him in the first place.

As the years went on, he began to notice the whispers around the town. How awful it was for such a loving family to have such an insolent child. How the esteemed lawyer—a pillar of the community—didn’t deserve to have his good name defiled by such a disreputable son. How endlessly patient his parents must be, to deal with such a troubled boy.

He was skin and bones for most of his childhood; smaller than most kids his age. Family meals were reserved for days with guests, and he quickly needed to learn how to smuggle away what he could while he could for the weeks where food was hard to come by. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him alive.

He shot up quickly as a teenager, but just as gangly and thin. That was when he began to back away when he thought he saw someone else in the mirror. His cheeks were hollow compared to the firmly set, square jaw of his father, but it was close enough to catch him off guard more than a few times.

It wasn’t until his mother flinched at the sight of him that he accepted that he truly was his father’s son. Probably in more ways than one. In more ways than he could see for himself.

He ate better than he ever had when he went off to college. Through regular exercise and regular meals, he managed to fill out: his shoulders broadened and he reached a stable weight. He was thankful for that, he really was, but now he was hyperaware of his looming figure. His father had been dead for years, but he still lingered in every movement. As if the scars weren’t enough of a reminder.

He knew the similarities didn’t end there. As much as he may wish the commonalities were only skin deep, he feared he would inherit the aggression, or that his own unaddressed resentment would unleash into an outburst of violence he couldn’t control. He had built a life for himself—even had his own son—but the shadow of his father seemed to cast over all of it. Living with his father’s hands sometimes made him feel like they were one in the same. He could never get away from it.  

There was one saving grace: he had his mother’s smile.

He’d seen it in his grandparents’ photo albums. The wide, toothy grin with dimples on either end, radiating genuine joy. He only ever saw his mother’s plastered, thin-lipped smile, one that never quite reached her eyes. Even then it was only used for polite decorum. Careful and calculated. Upholding the façade of a perfect little family.

Truthfully, it wasn’t much easier to look at. It was just another grim reminder that he never once saw his mother happy. He didn’t know how his father’s poor parenting strategies overlapped with his husbandly duties, but, simply judging based on his disposition, he highly doubted she’d been granted any kindness either. All he knew for sure was the cold wall of indifference he felt with his mom; so different from the pictures of the happy woman she’d been before.

Whether it was before her husband of before her son, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t think he wanted to know the answer.

Mirrors were threatening, loaded with a disquieted despair that pulled out everything Hotch didn’t want to see: a grim narrator recounting the inexorable pain of reality. Every feature—from the hair on his head to the hair on his hands; from his deepest frown to his rare smiles—was corrupted in one way or another. There really was no escaping it. Hotch knew logically, as a byproduct of his parents, there were bound to be physical similarities. It was impossible to look at himself without questioning whether there was any difference at all between him and the monsters of the past.

He knew the kind of violence he was capable of. He knew how he needed to the adrenaline coursing through his veins to feel truly alive. It was sick, but he couldn’t tolerate inaction, or the restraint of being under someone else’s thumb. He needed the initiative, the freedom, the exhilaration. He didn’t want to question where that endless restless came from. He could only appreciate that he had found the perfect outlet in his career. He would close his eyes and pretend he wasn’t following his father’s footsteps. How long before Hotch caught up with him?

The mirror said he wasn’t far behind.

The last thing he wanted was to be his parents’ child.