#they are toddlers on an emotional level

[jaratedeguadalupe]

anxcietmus is the one braincell being passed around and nobody catching it

[mishkakagehishka]

I'm being forced to visit my abusive grandma to deal with my childhood traumas and grow up as person(already ended crying and visiting the clinic because of that) so with that said

What is it to be an adult for you ? One of the expectations is for me to be able to become an adult since I will be 23 when I get back so...

I think you shouldn't need to confront your trauma Like That to grow up as a person tbh i'm no psychologist but it feels counterproductive. Abusive people should be put behind you, not at your side. Stay safe, and stay strong, bestie, i'll be keeping you in my thoughts🫂

As for me, being an adult is a subjective thing. I'm not sure? I think "responsibility". Having more of them, and being okay-ish at keeping the strings together. -ish, i emphasise. Nobody can keep all the strings together, but trying your best is part of it. You gain a bit more independence, but you end up losing a lot of that freedom you gain to responsibilities. But i'd still say adulthood comes with additional freedoms. I hope the expectations placed on you aren't some shit like "get a (good) job" or "become fully independent, financially and otherwise" bc for me that's awfully individualist and might not be feasible for every adult (like, a disabled adult might not be able to keep a job that is exhausting, whatever "exhausting" might mean to them - could be the medical profession known for a lot of overtime and sleepless nights, could be an office job where you have to stare at screens that cause eyestrain for too long etc etc).

But i think it does include some independency. Dependant on the person. YMMV. I think i'd leave it up to the individual to define, beyond the biological "maturity/end of puberty" or sociological "minor/adult" divide

[considerad]

I'm trying to keep track of good stuff you know pay attention to good days bc they're rare now but I think (don't strike me down for daring to lift my head a little please, please) I THINK it's happening more at a "1 in 7 days" and "2 in 24 hours" way now instead of like "1 in 30 days and "1 minute of 24 hours" and that's? an improvement I guess (don't strike me down again I can't get up again please hold your blows).

Yeah. Still grieving and physically sick and depressed af (and a bit paranoid about the universe picking on me/my family in particular) but sometimes things make me smile now and occasionally I don't hate the world. So there's that.

[sunflowerbloomss]

mal is a bit. silly stupid. but it's okay because alina is too

[birbhouse-doodles]

Sometimes, dead is better. The person you put up there ain't the person that comes back.

Quick one today so I can catch up- a movie that genuinely, deeply disturbed me much more than I expected it to: Pet Sematary.

(Scary movie artober #4/10)

[impossible-rat-babies]

the moogle quests

[feelymeely]

Wooow shocker the guy that screamed at me for doing my job hasnt updated anything that’s been with him since February!!!

[homunculus-argument]

You ever suddenly connect two things from your childhood and it suddenly clicks what your parents meant to do when they did something completely different instead?

I got trained pretty early on to not show fear. I'm aware now that what my parents probably meant to do was to reassure me that whatever I was afraid of is no reason to be scared, and I should feel safe instead, but what I gathered from it was "stop showing this emotion that they don't like to see on you", and since the praise for being So Good About It was immediate, that got immediate affirmation. Good kids show no sign of being scared.

And then once I got older and started encountering situations that were above toddler-levels of scary, adults started to suspect that I don't often seem to understand the gravity of whatever situation is going on. Like I remember several occasions of adults stressing it to me multiple times that I need to be careful, do something, not do something, etc, and had me repeat the possible consequences back to them, and still not seeming convinced that I understood the gravity of the situation.

And just now it clicked. I finally understand what they thought was wrong with me. They didn't think I looked appropriately scared for the seriousness of the situation. I hadn't been expected to never show fear. They had wanted me to only express fear in situations where they thought there's reason to fear.

[detectivekonan]

I don’t know what I’m going to do with Sophia today since she’s sick she can’t go to the park and the library is closed on Sundays (and she wouldn’t be able to go inside anyways) and the place I’m couch surfing at has an vendetta against crying children. One of the reasons my mom and her are butting heads about. And it’s like genuinely awful.

[unicarcass]

we miss our dog, dude

[sttoru]

‘the markings engraved on the wood hold unspoken memories; ones that will last forever.’

☀︎｜tags. dad!toji x female reader. fluff. you’re married. based on a request i got a while back; reader and toji marking megumi’s changes in height throughout the years to record how much he’s grown.

“oh, it’s already time to do that stuff ‘gain, huh?” toji grunts as he was lazily slumping back on the couch — rough hand cradling the head of his three year old son.

megumi was surprisingly quiet whilst laying on top of toji’s chest. the reason why probably being the dancing fruits and vegetables on the television. those videos was pure entertainment for the little guy.

toji’s eyes follow your movements as you grabbed a sharpie and walked towards the door of the living room. you had purposefully grabbed the special sharpie that existed only to fulfil one, sole task;

which was to mark megumi’s current height on the doorframe.

“yep.” you nod enthusiastically. you were excited to see how much megumi had grown since the last time you measured his height. it was a fun thing to do, yet also bittersweet.

toji looks down at the little boy on his chest. he grins like a proud dad once he notices how content megumi was in his embrace, “c’mon, bud. y’r momma wants to see how much bigger and stronger you grew.”

megumi’s attention was instantly drawn to you at the words uttered to him. in a sudden burst of energy, he jumps off toji’s torso — running your way. he was bouncing up and down like his favorite candy was about to get handed out.

“alright, alright.” you giggle softly and tenderly rub megumi’s cheeks with your fingers. toji gets up from the couch and joins the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest whilst leaning against the wall.

your husband’s focus was elsewhere; his gaze following the previous records that were left on the wooden jamb. there were dates assigned to each line — each holding a precious memory of their own. toji lets out a deep breath, closes his eyes and allows all the happy memories to flood back into his mind for a good moment.

he can’t stop the fond smile from forming on his face as he squats down to megumi’s level, “i bet ya grew a lot considering how much veggies y’ve been eatin lately.”

“yeah! big boy!” megumi grins back at toji — his playful grin resembling your husband’s. his tiny hands pat his belly, causing both his parents to laugh at his actions.

you pull off the cap from the sharpie and properly align your toddler against the doorframe. toji helped megumi stay still for the sake of measuring his height as accurately as possible.

you try to get the perfect dot right atop of megumi’s head. once you get it, you draw a straight line from that point to the end of the jamb. it’s then that you notice the difference between the previous blue line and the newest one you had just placed on the wood.

you stay silent for a few seconds after taking the tip of the sharpie away from the door jamb. there it was; that bittersweet look in your eyes. one that toji knew very well. he understands your emotions and doesn’t ever invalidate them since he feels the same deep within.

that beautiful and proud yet also surprisingly sad feeling. the one you get when you realise just how fast time flies.

“mama! mama! look!” megumi excitedly points out the obvious difference between the two lines, clapping his hands out of pure delight, “i’m shtronger! bwigger!”

the pure face of joy that megumi made, was enough to put a smile on your face as well. you instantly scoop your son up in your arms and hug him tightly to your body. megumi’s nose scrunches up, left cheek squished against your chest with a faint giggle escaping his lips.

toji’s expression was one of content in the meantime. a content man whom had finally found the reason as to why life was worth living.

his hand reaches out, index finger curling around the collar of megumi’s shirt from behind. he gives it a small yank as if trying to catch the boy’s attention. once toji gains exactly that — he opens his arms and motions for a hug;

“what ‘bout papa, kid?” your husband raises an eyebrow. he tries hard to fake a pout, though only ends up looking quite silly, “can papa get a big ol’ h—”

before toji could finish his sentence, megumi unexpectedly jumps into his arms. this causes toji to actually stumble back — falling out of his squat and into a sitting position on the floor. that was quite the surprise, but, a pleasant one it sure was.

the dark-haired man rolls his eyes before nuzzling his nose into megumi’s hair. his strong arms engulf the toddler completely—not wanting to let go any time soon.

“y’re gonna need to eat a lot more so you can grow up ‘n be as tall as me.” toji teases after a few seconds of comfortable silence. he squeezes megumi’s cheek and looks down at him fondly, “i’m sure you’ll even outgrow me ‘n your momma one day.”

the mention of your son one day growing up and becoming taller than you makes that solemn look return to your eyes. your bottom lip sticks out and your eyebrows furrow.

toji notices and regrets saying what he said whilst already knowing you were in a sentimental mood. plus, you always got even more emotional when talking about how quick megumi was growing up. it was like he was a newborn just yesterday.

“wah! mama. . .”

even megumi notices the change in your expression and he huffs. his eyes dart back towards his dad’s and his tiny fists (softly) land on toji’s chest twice. like he was giving out a punishment for ‘upsetting’ you.

“papa make mama sad! papa bad!” megumi sticks his tongue out at toji and runs back towards you — tiny arms circling your neck as he clings onto you in hopes to make you feel better.

your son’s cute antics were enough to lighten up the mood, causing both toji and you to laugh again. even if a tear had already rolled down your cheek from before.

you were about to wipe it away yourself, though was stopped by two hands: a large one and a small one. one belonging to toji and the other to megumi.

“aht aht,” toji narrows his eyes at his kid, “i’m the one who made y’r momma cry, so i gotta be the one comfortin’ her to make it right.”

“no! papa made mama sad. i make mama happy ‘gain. not papa.” megumi does the same back, though adds fuel to the fire by sticking his tongue out like earlier.

and. . . there they go again.

your husband and son go back and forth about who gets to wipe your tear away and comfort you. you knew toji was competitive - even with his own son - but it was funny to see how he still argued with a three year old like it was some serious business.

you couldn’t even be sad any longer as the squabbling makes you giggle — though also leaves you with a giddy feeling in your chest.

time seems to slow down when you’re engrossed in rememberable moments like these.

and all you could do was wish that they would last forever.

[luveline]

How about Steve with a reader who already has a kid? Like they're in their twenties and she has maybe 2 or 3 year old. Her ex isn't in the picture so it's just her. Maybe the fic is Steve finally getting to meet readers son/ daughter. Maybe she has to leave their date earlier due to a babysitter problem and Steve just comes along with her and they spend the night together.

ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 2k

“Try not to show fear,” you’re saying, your hand pulled tight against his. He savours the softness of it even as the concrete steps to your house force you apart. 

“I’m not scared.” 

“I’m just saying, Steve. Toddlers know when you’re scared.” 

“But I’m not scared.” Steve has handled worse than toddlers. If your kid is anything like you, this will be a walk in the park. 

You grin at him and give him one of your cute shrugs, though shyness he recognises from your first date stiffens your shoulders again as you open your front door. 

Your home is small. The first thing he notices is the cramped space walking in, the tight stairs, but the second thing he notices is the amount of life, photographs that deck the walls and colour everywhere, clothes folded and waiting to be taken upstairs, little shoes in a stand by an open bathroom door. 

“Melanie?” you call. “You okay?” 

Melanie appears in the door with a huge watery frown, who Steve assumes to be your young son smiling on her hip, unperturbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

She’d been incoherent on the phone, though eventually squeezed out that it was nothing wrong with Noah. Melanie’s boyfriend appears to have broken up with her over the phone. 

You scoop Noah off of his babysitter's hip, holding him with far more ease. He drops his face with affection to the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s a shame you and Steve had to come home —you’re wearing the nicest dress he’s ever seen. But not a shame, because Steve’s excited to meet the baby. 

You could’ve sent him home. He assumes this means some level of trust and, better, permanency. If all goes well, he might be able to ask you to go steady soon. He’d love to do it tonight. 

“Don’t worry, Melanie, you can’t help it if something bad happens, can you? I’m really sorry about your boyfriend. Do you need me to drive you home?” 

Melanie sniffles miserably. “No, that’s okay, I can drive. I’m sorry.” 

You rub her arm. “It’s okay, really. We were just gonna have dinner and head home.” 

Steve internalises his reaction to that tidbit well. Melanie gives him a sad smile and passes by, her shoes heavy and smacking as she leaves with a mumbled farewell. 

“She’s a little emotional,” you say sympathetically, before turning your attention to the sleepy kid on your shoulder. “Sorry, Noah, guess you’re stuck with mommy and her new friend. Do you want to say hi?” 

Noah lifts his head, following your hand where you point at Steve, a smile like yours on his lips. 

Steve genuinely isn’t scared of kids, he loves them, and he loves talking to them. “Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you.” 

You hum appreciatively. “Go on, say hi to Steve.” 

“Hi,” Noah says quietly. 

Your voice is different around the baby, not any less pretty but softer, and quieter. It has Steve lowering his own voice in an attempt to mimic you. “Hi, bud.” 

“He’s my new best friend,” you explain, ushering Steve closer, your hand touching gently to his shoulder. 

Noah’s even more your image now he’s closer, all your eyes and smile and brightness, but he’s got someone else’s nose, and he’s got a bad case of yawns. You laugh at his scrunched nose, wiping your thumb lightly over his bottom lip. “You want to go to bed, sweet boy?” you ask. 

“No… buppy.” 

“You want your buppy. Okay, I’ll get it for you.” You pull your arm through Steve’s. “Let’s go.” 

He laughs and goes happily. Your kitchen is empty compared to the hallway, it’s surprising, but then you open a cabinet for the aforementioned bubby and a couple of things come tumbling out. “Whoops,” you say, popping Noah down on the floor. “Can you put those away for me, please? Thank you.” 

Noah tries his best, but everything he puts in comes tumbling back out, earning a few high-pitched giggles. You crack the fridge open for a pint of cows milk. 

“He doesn’t have formula?” 

“No, you can give them whole milk after a year, but he doesn’t really need it anymore, it’s just to help him self-soothe at nighttime.” 

“Mom, I can’t do it,” Noah laughs. Steve thinks that great, that laughing. He could’ve had a tantrum (Steve wouldn’t blame him). 

Steve crouches down. “Can I help?” 

Noah gives Steve a smile, eyes squinting nearly entirely shut. “Yes.” 

“Okay, awesome. Looks like your mom needs more cabinets for all your stuff.” He starts to pick up the pieces. 

“I need a whole new house,” you say, filling the bottle about three quarters before sticking it in your microwave uncapped. You set the timer for fifteen seconds and prop your chin in your hand, elbow on the counter. Steve thinks it’s your best angle yet, your dress, your arms, the friendly smile you’re wearing that hasn’t once ebbed since the first date. It all gets his chest in a twist. 

He knows getting your baby to like him is make or break. And he really wants to give this a shot, you and him, you and Noah. He thinks you’d be good together. (Maybe he’s crazy and too forward, but you really are beautiful in your dress.) 

“How’s that?” he asks, closing the cabinet behind a tower of bottles and baby bowls.

“Perfect! Good job, baby,” Noah says, tapping Steve on the knee. 

Steve snorts. “Thank you.” 

“He’s going through a phase of saying everything I say,” you explain, yanking open the microwave to test the milk on the back of your hand. 

You deem the milk sufficiently warmed and offer Noah your hand, swiping a takeout menu from the fridge as you pass, and once again grabbing Steve by the arm to drag him along. He’s content to be dragged. You lead everyone into the living room, and he’s again surprised by how small it is. 

You catch his look. “Are you judging me, Harrington?” 

“What? No? Of course not.”

“Messing with you. There’s an extension out back, on the kitchen? That’s where I keep the rest of the toys.” You drop down onto the couch with a sigh. “Come here, babe, come cuddle with mommy.” 

If Noah weren’t in earshot, Steve would make a joke about how he hopes you aren’t talking to him. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t.

You lay back and Noah climbs up onto one side of you, his hands out ready for his bottle, while your arm stretches out for Steve. “Come ‘n’ sit.” 

Steve sits knee to knee with you. He’s not scared of kids, and he isn’t scared of you, either. He knows exactly what he wants, and he isn’t afraid to let you know it, taking your hand where it lies open on your thigh. 

“What were you gonna get?” you ask, nodding to the takeout menu. 

“I don’t know, I’ll have what you’re having,” Steve says. 

“What if you don’t like what I’m having?” 

“I’ll learn.” 

You tip your chin up at him, beaming. “Yeah? What if I like something completely unamerican?” 

“I gotta learn sometime, right?” He squeezes your fingers nicely. 

“Well, my Noah likes everything.” You kiss Noah’s forehead, stealing his attention from his bottle, bright eyes tracing your face and then your hand where Steve is rubbing the back of it. 

“Then he can have some of everything.”

You and Steve share a loving smile. Smiles smiles smiles, everybody’s getting on, this is the best sixth date anyone’s ever had, best date full stop, though your fifth date was a close second. You and Steve had spent hours together in a park in the city eating picnic foods and soaking in the sun together, your nose brushing off of his ribs, his jacket balled up under your head. He’d kissed you twice that night when you finally, sorrily had to go home, and you’d said, Aw, I really like you, as you held hands on the stoop. He should’ve asked you then to give it a proper go, but now he’s met Noah he figures it’s as good a time as any. 

“Hey,” Steve begins, clearing his throat, “would you–”

“Woh!” Noah shouts around the teet of his bottle. It falls from his lips. “We wiw hands,” he garbles, a bunch of baby flavoured gibberish as he leans over your stomach to cover your hand where it’s held in Steve’s. “Mom!” 

“What, babe?” 

“My hand!” 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Mom!” he says, slapping your hands insistently with his own. 

Steve loosens your fingers, leaving a gap between your palms. “Quick, bud, put your hand in.” 

Noah climbs onto your leg and presses his hand into the fold, though he grows annoyed at the weird fit, and immediately starts to sniffle. Steve winces, but you’re used to it. “Aw, don’t start the waterworks. Come on, what happened to sharing? We’re good sharers.” 

Steve lets go of your hand. He’s reluctant, sure, but he doesn’t wanna be on anyone’s bad side. Noah cries for a few seconds like he’s forgotten why he’s upset, but he sees your open palm and the cog finishes turning. 

“Hold mommy’s hand,” you say, wiggling your fingers. 

Noah thinks about it. He ends up on his side across your leg staring at you, then at Steve, who smiles at him cheerfully. “He’s so handsome,” Steve says. “He has your face. Guess that’s why you’re so handsome, huh?” He shakes his head at Noah gently. “‘Cos you got all your good looks from your mommy.”

“He knows what that means,” you preen, leaning down to speak closer to Noah’s ear. “Don’t you? You’re my handsome boy.” 

Noah puts his hand in Steve’s with another tinkling laugh. 

“Oh! I see how it is, you wanna be Steve’s friend too. Can’t let me have anything for myself, can you?” 

“No,” Noah says cheekily. 

Steve collects Noah’s little hand in his. “Good!” he says. “You should get everything you want, just like mom.”

“Think so?” you ask. 

Steve nods. 

You cover Noah’s eyes with your hand and move up to press a quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “Like you?” you ask. 

Steve’s just stoked to have someone he likes actually like him back at the same level. Noah squirms away from your hand to squeeze Steve’s tighter. Two someones. 

“Like me,” he says, grinning. 

“Mommy, kiss!” Noah says urgently. “Kiss!” 

You pull your gaze from Steve’s. “Sorry, I’m sorry! Come here, baby, I’ll give you a kiss too. I guess I’m gonna be giving double the kisses I used to, my poor chapped lips.” You kiss kiss kiss Noah across the forehead. 

Steve flusters thinking about it, making a mental note to get you some chapstick. He’d go pretty crazy for a crown of kisses like that. 

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[high-fructose-jay-syrup]

the geneva conventions are so funny to me. you May kill each other as a tool to resolve disputes but you May Not starve or torture your prisoners of war, that is Too Far

[hausofneptune]

"spicy" takes / unpopular opinions

[astro notes no. 002]

IF IT DON’T APPLY LET IT FLY. everybody’s chart is different, if you have any aspects or placements mentioned in this post that don’t resonate with you, that means the energy didn’t manifest the way that i described due to other influences in your chart (or you being delusional, idk, you decide). also, when i speak on certain signs i'm referring to their archetype and the innate energy they express. just be mindful that there's a variety of ways these energies can manifest from person to person.

disclaimers | masterlist | ask

༄ y’all stay talking about how hard scorpios have it but y’all don’t talk about the struggles capricorns face. especially capricorn moons?? have y’all ever encountered a capricorn moon that wasn’t in therapy or didn’t desperately need it??? they be facing the most insane level of emotional distress and then turn around and pick up more shifts and start studying harder like that shit finna help lmfao

༄ the discourse surrounding 8H synastry is... odd to me. i feel like some people (specifically the tumblr/tiktok girlies) are romanticizing trauma bonding. y’all can talk about how good the sex is all y’all want, but unless you and the person involved have a good amount of self-awareness and are spiritually evolved enough (especially if y'all have your own 8H placements in your own charts), i feel like you’re just setting yourself up to be in a “toxic” relationship with somebody. it could just be my aqua venus talking, but the whole “baring your soul” to someone and developing a possessive/jealous bond with them don't sound fun to me. i would rather perish.

༄ everyone talks about how dramatic your saturn return is but why does no one bring up how traumatic your 12H profection years are? being 23 was literally one of the most unhinged experiences i’ve ever had 

༄ i be tryna advocate for geminis because i know they’re just lil creative mercurial sponges and wanna have enough knowledge to see everything from every side… but why do some of them act like that? and you know what i mean. especially the more “unevolved” gemini placements, they be doing the most insane level of mental acrobatics and be contrarian just for the sake of being contrarian

༄ i have to say this as an 8H moon, i understand what y’all mean when y’all say 8H, scorpio, and plutonian placements usually face a lot of vitriol from others for no reason, but honestly, some of y’all be using that as a justification for being paranoid and manipulative. operating from a place of pain, assuming that everybody is out to get you, and being hyper-vigilant of people’s intentions isn’t the type of behavior anyone should be trying to normalize. let that hurt go pookie <3

༄ i feel like this has been spoken about before but i’ll never understand why water signs are constantly stereotyped as the emotional crybabies of the zodiac but fire signs aren’t? water signs can definitely be sensitive and existential but prominent fire placements will literally lose their mind over the smallest shit and then be cool 10 minutes later… yes i’m looking at you aries

༄ speaking of aries, can we address the way that they’re literally the toddlers of the zodiac and very much so behave like it? idk as a pisces i have a soft spot for them, i love their childlike, carefree spirit, and the way they be throwing tantrums for fun tickles me 

༄ this note doesn’t pertain particularly to signs/placements but astrology in general. i am begging y’all (specifically the people who are newer/beginners to astrology) to use traditional studies as a starting point and to stop taking notes from these tiktoks and tumblr posts. there are astrologers on these platforms who have done the work and studied (love y'all), but there are a plethora who haven’t. i saw a post the other day where somebody said squares/oppositions don’t indicate conflict in a chart and i felt like i was losing my damn mind. i definitely recommend the astrology podcast as a starting point for beginners, chris brennan is amazing and i still find myself re-listening to a lot of his content 

༄ i talked to one of my mutuals the other day about this, but astrology is such an amazing tool, and y’all should use it for so much more than self-validation. y’all do not need to have a certain venus placement to be considered pretty. y'all do not need certain mercury or uranus placements to be considered intelligent/creative. y’all do not have to rely on [insert random asteroid here] to know what your future spouse is gonna look like, when/where y’all are gonna meet, how they’re gonna perceive you, etc. etc. etc. i understand the hype around shit like that is due to social conditioning/constructs, but there are so many more important, relevant things you can learn about yourself through astrology that don’t revolve around "aesthetics"

༄ the girls are gonna hate me for this one, but i don’t understand the hype around lilith. and i say this as someone with a tight sextile between my sun and BML. there’s three versions of it, two of which don’t even technically exist, and then there’s a mean/true version that affects the accuracy. if anyone has more knowledge than me on the subject feel free to give me your input, because i feel like the insane amount of attention lilith gets has to do more with the whole “dark feminine archetype” trend that the tiktok/tumblr girlies love and less to do with its relevance from an astrology/astronomical lens (i feel this way about most asteroids honestly, but we’ll wake up that tea another time)

i don’t wanna get dragged so imma end this here, as always let me know if y’all have any aspects/placements mentioned and tell me how they manifest in your life/personality! and if you have any insight feel free to let me know as well. and don’t be messy. you will be blocked expeditiously. <3

click here to read part two!

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Without the levels of ectoplasm Amity Park has, the rest of the world was filled with other, weaker forms of ‘ghosts’ called shades. Danny finds his purpose of protecting comes in all kinds of forms. This is useful when he finds a challenge in Gotham.

Warning: violence, murder, probably something else. Proceed with caution.

Danny has noticed when he left Amity Park and went to places that didn’t have ambient ectoplasm, he saw lots of shades. They were outlines of the people they once were, mere shadows of themselves. It wasn’t a soul per se. He was close to believing his parents when they said ghosts were just impressions of emotions in ectoplasm.

These shades couldn’t really hold a conversation with him, if they even noticed he was speaking to them. Some mumbled things under their breath, some moaned or screamed randomly, and others didn’t utter a sound. What he figured out over time was that they were actually attached to things or people. Not like a child is attached to their favorite toy, but physically couldn’t go far from whatever it was.

He’s seen shades attached to the places they died in, or perhaps a favorite object that was important to them, but the most interesting were the shades attached to people.

It was a small game of his to figure out who that person was to the shade. A child, a caretaker, a friend. He once saw a nurse who had some shades following her with smiles. It became less fun when he found his first serial killer. It was an older man carrying an oxygen tank behind him and surrounded by at least half a dozen young women shades. They wore expressions of sadness and anger and fear. He could recognize trauma when he sees it. Danny just stood frozen for a while, just watching this man pull out his oxygen to smoke a cigarette. He didn’t really know how to feel other than a cold fury that made his mind worryingly quiet.

“Whatchu lookin at, boy?” The old man snapped.

Danny just stared back into the dark and arrogant eyes. Then he looked up to the women who blinked back.

“You will have him soon. Then you can rest.”

They seem to understand, turning again to stare at the back of the man’s head with such expressions any other person seeing them would have screamed and run away as fast as they could. Danny did neither.

“Who you talking to?”

Danny stares back at the man who shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

“You’ll see soon enough,” he answers coldly before turning and walking away.

That was the first of more than he cared to find. Some he approached. Some he just stared at knowingly, watching the killers squirm under his intense gaze. Some he had to restrain himself from killing to avenge the victims hovering over their shoulder. One or two he didn’t hold himself back. His first was a woman actually, with children and toddlers clinging to her back like they didn’t understand how else to process what she did to them other than by staying close.

Danny followed her home. She ran a daycare from it. He couldn’t let it happen again. She wasn’t as old as the man with the oxygen tank, she had several more years before she died naturally. He needed to end it then. And he did.

He didn’t say one word to her or answer any of her angry questions as he plunged his hand into her chest and squeezed. Her heart burst like a water balloon and he cringed at the feeling. She died quickly and he waited for her shade to form.

When it did, the children didn’t know what to do. They were innocents, they weren’t like the young women waiting for their killer to die so they could rip him to shreds viciously. They hovered and flicked around excitedly. And when her shade finally formed and predictably turned on the children, snapping and reaching out with clawed hands to quiet them permanently, Danny stepped in to protect, like he always did. He bit and tore until there was nothing left.

He had seen shades and ghosts ‘move on’ before. Where they finally felt like they didn’t have to stay and they just faded contently, going where Danny couldn’t follow. Seeing all of the children disappear with laughs and smiles was the most bittersweet experience he could remember.

He cried himself to sleep that night.

So after traveling for a while and stumbling upon a glum city with far too many shades, he was a little overwhelmed. Never before had he seen so many in one place, other than the Zone of course. He couldn’t just leave, he needed to help as many as he could. For the first time in a rough while, Danny settled into one place, Gotham.

Over a couple weeks he helped as many as he could while working at some fast food place during the day and a weird bar at night.

Things were busy but manageable until one evening he was kidnapped and held hostage along with a dozen other people in some mad man’s scheme. He wasn’t particularly invested, knowing the Bats were going to come save them, that is until he actually saw the man, or more specifically the number of shades surrounding the man. This was Joker. It had to be. He never had a face to the name until today, but the shades that he spoke to the gave half answers to exactly three questions before becoming disinterested about half the time brought up Joker. Even the ones that weren’t in the building, must have been killed by this man. He wasn’t just a serial killer, he was a mass murderer.

Danny knew what he had to do.

With the Joker’s goons distracted with his presentation, the clown laughing into a camera that was apparently live, it wasn’t hard to escape his bonds and then borrow a gun he ‘found’.

He took aim.

“Boss, behind you!” One of the men shouted from behind the camera.

Joker turns with a wide grin and Danny doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Three shots ring out in the open space, the other hostages scream, and the goons shout urgently. Three holes are now in the Joker’s chest, the purple suit slowly staining an ugly brown. The Joker falls, allowing the camera (and everyone watching) to show the face of the teenage murderer.

Danny doesn’t even notice, his wide eyes on the body, gun pointed to the floor. He watches the beginnings of a shade form and he can feel more shades gather around with anticipation.

A window shatters before the goons can figure out what to do now that their employer is dead. They run as the Bats descend upon them, one freeing the hostages and another directing them outside where it’s safe.

The shade is almost formed and Danny catches himself from leaning in with the rest of the shades. They weren’t victims right now, they were hungry wolves prepared to bite and rip and tear apart.

“Hey, kid, I’m gonna need you to hand that over okay? You’re safe now, no one’s gonna hurt you,” Danny hears one of the vigilantes tell him, slowly moving closer.

Danny doesn’t pay the man any mind, not even twitching in his direction. The shade was formed. It was whole and disgusting and ugly. The rest of what made up the Joker started to laugh. Just that awful noise triggered the other shades into action, flying so fast at the grinning face the shade chokes and that ear-piercing laugh turned into a scream.

Danny feels the cold metal be removed from his loose grip at his side. That’s okay, he didn’t need it anymore. The monster was being slain right in front of him. He was glad he didn’t have to intervene like he had to with the children, Danny didn’t want to touch that thing.

“He’s in shock,” the vigilante says to someone else.

“Let Gordon take care of it. Zip tie his hands, he might be a danger to himself or others when he snaps out of it,” came a different voice, younger.

“Red,” the man hisses. “He’s a kid. He’s just scared.”

“Scared people do dumb things, N.”

Danny hears a sigh before his numb hands are gently tugged behind his back and he hears the shick of plastic tighten around his wrists. He doesn’t bother struggling as he’s more preoccupied watching the scene end as there is nothing left of the clown shade to tear apart anymore. The shades all around seem to settle and accept what just happened. Their murderer was gone. They were finally free.

One by one they started disappearing into the Aftermore until the effect was exponential. More and more until he couldn’t see any anymore, but he could feel shades fading throughout the whole city.

Danny doesn’t really remember what happened after that, too focused on the change in atmosphere all throughout Gotham. He could feel it, feel them.

Maybe he was in shock like the guy said. One minute he’s staring at the body of the man he killed on shaky knees and then the next time he blinks he’s in a chair in the police station, metal handcuffs keeping him to the table and an older gentleman with a grey mustache in the seat opposite him.

The man looks at him from over his glasses.

“You with me, kid?”

Danny nods.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Danny stares back.

“I shot the Joker,” he answers simply.

The man nods.

“Do you understand that he is dead?”

Danny blinks.

“I’d be concerned if he wasn’t.”

The man pauses and then shrugs a nod.

“That’s fair.” He looks at the teenager and sighs heavily. “My name is Commissioner Jim Gordon. I am in charge of this case and I need your statement of what happened. We already did this but I don’t think you were all there, so I’m going to read your Miranda rights again, okay?”

Danny nods and then listens to the man recite words that he says he understands. He tells Mr. Gordon what he knew and what happened (withholding the pieces of information that were ghostly) and then signs a piece of paper that reiterates what he just explained as well as a confession that he shot and killed the man known as Joker in the act of being a Good Samaritan as well as self defense.

All of this was just legality. Mr. Gordon assured him no one was actually going to prosecute him, not even the state to be honest, for the Joker’s murder. In the eyes of pretty much the rest of the city and the world, it was a public service.

It was unfortunate he couldn’t just go home after that. No, of course Mr. Gordon found out Danny didn’t have parents (that he knew of) and legally couldn’t just release him back to the abandoned hotel where he lives alone. Danny works, he has money for food and the laundry mat, he doesn’t really need anything else.

It would have been as simple as handing him over to one of the boy’s homes if, you know, Danny wasn’t the one to kill the most hated man in Gotham.

So Mr. Gordon calls someone and Danny sits tight, drinking a soda and eating some chips, both from the vending machine. He was just glad his handcuffs were off.

Danny has been at the station for hours by the time Mr. Gordon comes back with a well dressed man who was tall and big. Honestly the guy kinda reminds him of his dad. Danny represents a shiver.

“Son, this is Bruce Wayne. He’s taken in a couple other boys in their time of need. I think you’ll find you’ll fit in well with his many children,” the Commissioner explains with a tight smile.

Danny tilts his head, looking behind the man to the man and woman duo who hold hands while staring at the man lovingly. He parents probably from the rumors. Maybe he’ll try talking to them later.

“Wayne as in like The Bruce Wayne? Like Wayne Enterprises?”

The man smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yes, that Bruce Wayne. Nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“It’s Danny. Just Danny.”

“My butler, Alfred, just made some cookies. If we’re lucky, there will still be some left over.”

Danny perks up. Sweet! Cookies!

“You have a butler? Wack. But cookies are a yes. Let’s go! Are we done, Mr. Gordon?”

Mr. Wayne seems to blink at his easy behavior, like he was surprised Danny was so okay after just killing a man. Mr. Gordon just smiles at him, but Danny can see the concern in his eyes.

“You can go, but remember you have mandatory therapy that Mr. Wayne will make sure you get to. It’s only for three months but more sessions will be added on if you don’t cooperate so keep that in mind,” the man warns.

Danny gives the man a two finger salute.

“Roger roger!” He turns to Mr. Wayne. “Can we go now?”

“Sure.”

Turns out Alfred the butler left aside two delicious chocolate chip cookies for him. He munches on them as he observes the others in the house, but mostly the shades attached to them and the feeling of death-touched from a few of them. The one the feeling was coming from the most is the first to hug him tightly and thank him for killing the Joker.

Oh.

“Was he the one that killed you?” Danny asks without thinking it through.

The arms tighten around him and there is a collective silence as the words register. Then lots and lots of questions and suspicious looks.

It was a very long night.