#And with how different their coping mechanisms are it would have been nice to see how they get around that

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[shooks-stupid-stuff]

egodeath: the disappearance of one's sense of self, or the removal of one's ability to distinguish themselves as an entity separate from their social or physical environment.

[witherby]

Heyyyyy how are ya 😼 I have an idea for angst (Although this has already been done by many authors but I'm curious see how you approach this kind of like concept)

"Neglected... Batsis.... Reader..."

(this is totally not me just manifesting for more neglected batsia content)

-🌭

Hotdog. Dog that's hot. Oblong tube of meat that sits on a bun. As long as you're okay with it not being Yandere, I'll give almost anything a shot.

Lonely in a Crowded Room

Platonic!Batfamily x Daughter!Reader

Content warnings: emotional neglect, isolation, hyper-independence as a coping mechanism

Masterlist is Here!

Your family loves you.

Your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true at the same time.

Your mother had abandoned you at the gates of the Wayne manor when you were an infant, leaving nothing but a note telling Bruce your name, her name, and that you were his biological daughter. After taking another DNA test for himself to be sure, Bruce accepted his role as your father and took you in.

Sometimes you wonder how different your life would be if he'd just admitted he didn't have the time to raise you and left you at an orphanage, where another couple looking to care for a child could devote their energy to you instead. You wonder if you'd be better off than you are now.

The thing is, nothing is really wrong. You're clothed, fed, sheltered, and if there's an emergency you are swiftly taken care of. You just don't have any kind of connection to your family.

Bruce gave it his best effort when you were a baby, when you needed more attention. Batman patrolled less often in the night whenever you had a bad time staying asleep. He bottle fed you, he read you bedtime stories, and he would bring you to Wayne Tower with him sometimes and keep you busy with toys while he worked. As you grew older, however, and started developing a sense of independence, that easy attention got harder and harder to get. Suddenly he was needed for a case, or there was an event Bruce Wayne needed to make an appearance at, or one of your brothers needed his insight during investigations of their own.

And, well, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of one. You learned to share his attention, choosing to be the polite daughter that could learn to fix her own problems, and eventually that meant to Bruce that you didn't need attention at all. You couldn't ever find the courage to correct him, to ask him to make space for you. So, still seeking emotional fulfillment, you tried to turn to your brothers instead.

Dick was unfailingly kind. He'd even remarked once that he always wanted a little sister, which was nice. But he was an adult by the time you entered the picture. He had his own life outside of the Manor, living in Blüdhaven and patrolling as Nightwing and maintaining a day job for the BPD. His already limited free time was spent for himself, chasing downtime he often desperately needed, and you didn't want to make him give that up for you.

Jason didn't come around the Manor as a rule. He had bad blood with your dad, and while he didn't explicitly take it out on you, unfortunately you live with Bruce, and so he just wasn't around enough for you to form any solid attachment. Plus, he's clearly got his own stuff going on, and likely doesn't have the time nor will to get to know you. You haven't tried to reach out and neither has he, which is enough of an answer about how he feels in regards to having a little sister.

Tim was kind of like Bruce. He had far too many prior engagements and duties to fulfill, from acting as current CEO of both Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries, to moonlighting as Red Robin, to attending college and working on his degree. He'd give you a sweet smile and gently ruffle your hair if he caught you in passing, but then he had to focus on the rest of his daily goings on. Trying to catch Tim to talk was like trying to hold water in a cracked cup. He just slips right by you.

And Damian... Damian did not particularly like you. At least, not at first. He came into the picture a couple years after you were dropped off at the Manor. You suspect he felt threatened about there being another blood-relative in the house, and made every attempt to communicate to you that he wasn't happy with your presence. But, as you grew older, when the topic of secret identities and their nighttime work came up, you surprised everyone by showing no interest in taking up the mantle. You did not want to be Robin, or a bat of any kind for that matter, and that seemed to really mellow your brother out. His perceived competition wasn't even competing, and his hostility was for naught.

Now, he doesn't really give you the time of day. It took a while for you to understand that it wasn't malicious anymore. You know now that he's ashamed of his prior actions and doesn't know how to make amends. You've tried to bridge that gap for him, make it easier by showing that you hold no ill will, but either his pride or his stubbornness refuse to take the olive branch you're practically dropping in his lap.

So, you can't get emotional fulfillment from your dad or any of your older brothers. If you can't go to them, maybe you can turn to Alfred. He was a patriarchal figure, always tending to one thing or another and looking after Bruce and his sons after patrol. He didn't patrol himself, so maybe he'd have the time to spend with you.

And he did! He sure did. It just...wasn't quite what you wanted. Alfred was a former British Intelligence operative, and raised Bruce under the complicated duality of both a guardian and a commanding officer. He obviously knew how to talk to you like a normal civilian, because that's what you are, but it was overly formal. He was holding you at arm's length because he didn't know how to relate to you. You were familiar strangers, at best, and you felt that's all you'd ever be despite your best efforts.

So. No one is cruel to you. They are kind, they smile, they ask you how you're doing and genuinely seem to care about the answer. That's not the problem.

You know your family loves you.

You know your family does not have time for you.

Both of these things are true.

You just wish you weren't so terribly lonely.

[steddiewithachance]

I'm Here on Business

Wayne is a regular at the bookstore Steve works at and badgers Steve into going on a blind date with his kid.

For @extocancer Happy New Years!!! I hope you enjoy your presents ◡̈

***

It's a quiet night in the little bookstore on the corner of Brinks and Williams. Steve is sitting behind the check-out counter flicking the leaf of a potted pothos placed next to the register. Soft music plays from the radio behind him.

Steve likes taking the evening shifts at the shop just to see the place warmly lit up by all of the eclectic and ornate lamps that Amber, the owner, has collected. The store doesn't give him migraines from obnoxious fluorescent light, which has been an issue at previous jobs.

Ever since Robin moved out of their apartment for Grad school, it's been upsetting to be at home alone at night. Without her company, the couch feels longer. And without her unhinged apartment decor, the walls feel taller and colder. Consequently, Steve has taken on more work hours instead of being home.

Plus, he has kind of fallen in love with reading. It came as a shock to him that he could enjoy it as much as he does. It started when his all-female team of coworkers began ranting to each other about these romance novels they were all into. He felt a little left out and decided to give one of them a try. It turns out that reading was actually a really great coping mechanism for dealing with his temporary loss of Robin.

The nicest, and most surprising thing to come out of this job though, is probably Wayne. A one-time customer turned regular, turned tentative friend for Steve. He's got a caring, parental energy that Steve's own parents never had.

The guy looks like he'd have a gruff or standoffish personality. His face naturally rests in a frown and he's got receding grey hair. He wears a flannel every day without fail; he's got a million different colors of them and Steve has even made a game of predicting which one he'll be wearing when he comes in.

"Did ya guess right today, boy?" Wayne will ask.

"No," Steve often admits glumly. "The universe told me you'd be wearing your green and blue one."

So anyway, Wayne comes around a lot to make small talk. He often mentions how he misses his son, Eddie. He's so stiff with personal information about his kid, but one time he let it slip that Eddie was on tour with his band. Steve had a field day afterward colluding with Google to find out exactly who Wayne's son was.

Eddie Munson, lead singer and guitarist of rock group Corroded Coffin.

Steve hadn't heard of ‘em but they certainly have a following. He listened to some of their stuff, to give himself some context for the next time Wayne brought up Eddie's music. It was nice enough, the guy has a good voice.

Steve's been waiting for Wayne to come in tonight. He's later than usual and it would be ridiculous for Steve to worry about a man who probably just thinks of Steve as that one kid who works at the bookstore. He may not come in at all tonight, and that would be fine too. Steve's still holding out on him pulling up in his... yellow flannel.

Steve's about to cave and start the next book in the current series he's reading when the door jingles. Wayne pushes inside in his mother fucking yellow flannel.

"Yellow Flannel!" Steve exclaims. Wayne chuckles and drops a book on the counter followed by a receipt.

"You got me right today?" Wayne asks fondly.

"Yup. It's been a while. I was aching for a win." Steve starts returning Wayne's book for him without giving him slack this time. Wayne treats the store like a library and Steve doesn't have the heart to tell him it's not allowed.

"Was this book any good?" Steve throws Wayne's receipt back at him and starts moving around the counter to put it back on the shelf for some other historical fiction lover to purchase.

"It was just alright." Wayne follows behind him languidly, eyeing the rows of colorful book spines for something that catches his eye. "But actually I'm here on business tonight."

Steve leans on the shelf and waits impatiently for Wayne to tell him what sort of business he's on.

"I think you ought to go on a date with Eddie. I think you two'd compliment each other."

Well, that's... not what Steve was expecting to hear.

"That's business to you? You came here to set me up on a blind date with your famous kid? I think he's gonna be a tad underwhelmed by a bookstore employee, Wayne." Steve's not gonna lie, he's a little intrigued by the prospect of dating a musician. He read a romance novel about one, not that long ago. Concerts, greenroom intimacy, targeted lyrics: Steve could be into it, in theory.

And ultimately, Steve did see photos of Eddie on Google and he's attractive. He looks good holding a guitar.

"He's gonna be home for a while so I figured now's a good time. Just go on one date. He's a big softie, you'll like him." Wayne pulls a book off the shelf and squints to try and read the title. He holds it further from his eyes before giving up and pushing it back into its slot.

"What happens if he doesn't like me? Will you still come around?" Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. It wouldn't be the end of the world if Wayne stopped showing up, but it would probably hurt a little. It might fan the flame of his fear of abandonment.

"Of course, unless you break his heart. I know where you work, young man." Wayne pats his shoulder good-naturedly.

"Okay old man, you need my number to hand off?"

***

A day later, when Steve feels his phone buzz against his thigh, his instincts already know who it is. His heart gives that anticipatory squeeze he often gets before a first date with someone he finds attractive.

The text reads:

Hi Steve, this is eddie. Wayne swears we're soulmates. Wanna get dinner on friday?

It's a funny text to receive out of nowhere. Steve doubts Wayne actually used that word, but he imagines that Eddie is probably getting more of an earful than Steve got about this whole blind date. He also wonders what kind of person calls their dad by their first name.

Hi Eddie. I'd love to get dinner on Fri and discuss our soulmate status. I'm pretty sure he expects us to be married by the end of the night. Should I bring my tux? Also do you have a time and place in mind?

The master of puppets (Wayne) suggested we go to Maggiano's, are you okay with Italian? 8 maybe??? Tux optional but I think I will not be wearing one.

Haha. That sounds good Eddie, it's nice to hear from you. I'll see you soon.

***

Steve has to ask Amber to change his shift for Friday to work in the morning instead of the evening.

"Steve has somewhere other than work to be on a Friday night? Unheard of!" She slaps her palms down on the book display she was laying out.

"I know. I'm surprised too." Steve fiddles with his lanyard and gives her a 'please say yes' smile. She sighs.

"Yeah, I'll cover you. You can take my morning slot."

"Thank you! I owe you, boss."

***

When Friday arrives, Steve has the nervous jitters. It's been about a year since his last date, it didn't go very well. He's flattered that Wayne thinks highly enough of him to set him up with his kid.

Steve picks up a few small gifts for Eddie on his way home from work. He always brings his first dates a little something. He likes to see the way their faces light up. He thinks maybe he should get Eddie something music-related. So he walks into a little music store he's never been in and asks for small gift ideas for guitarists. He walks out wearing a smile, and hoping Eddie digs what he bought him.

And he's all smiles and confidence until he pulls up to the restaurant at eight and realizes he didn't send a confirmation text this morning. That's like, a rule, right? What if Eddie doesn't show up?

Steve steps out of the car and is equally anxious and relieved to find him leaning artfully against the restaurant near the front door with his hands in his pockets.

His curls are haloed by the warm light spilling out of the restaurant window. He's wearing a dark button-down with the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos on his forearms. And yeah, okay, he's hot.

The fact that Steve's going on a date with someone sort of famous hasn't fully sunk in. He's not sure he needs the added nerves though. He approaches as casually as possible and smiles when Eddie looks over.

The man does a double-take when he sees Steve. His eyebrows shoot up and he pushes off against the wall to stand straighter.

"Hi, Eddie?" Steve steps up onto the curb with a little wave. Eddie gives him a thorough once over.

"Oh, damn. Hi." He pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake Steve's.

Eddie is pretty up close. He's got long eyelashes and a bridge of little freckles across his nose. Steve notices all the little details that the on-stage photos didn't capture. He wonders if Wayne described what he looked like to Eddie who was at an informational disadvantage.

"I don't know what I was expecting you to look like, but my uncle didn't mention you were model pretty." Eddie tucks one of his big curls behind his ear and then steps forward to open the door. Steve's face gets warm at being called "model pretty", but he's terrible at taking compliments. He tries to redirect the conversation.

"Your uncle?" Steve asks.

"Wayne? My uncle?" Eddie motions towards the open door and follows after Steve once he's inside.

"Oh. You know he tells people that you're his son?"

Eddie's face softens and he scratches at his cheek. "Oh. Yeah well, I basically am. Maybe I should start calling him dad, I don't know."

"We don't take walk-ins." The hostess of the restaurant announces, breaking up their small talk. Steve looks over to see a tall woman with a slicked-back ponytail mad-dogging them. She has a cold demeanor, she kills the mood with one look between them. Steve knows the look, he's sure Eddie does too.

"Good to know! I have a reservation, though." Eddie responds.

"What's the name?" The woman pulls her iPad closer to herself like a shield.

"Munson." Eddie glances at Steve nervously.

"Hm. I don't see it." She pretends, tapping around meaninglessly. Eddie is getting agitated and maybe embarrassed too. He's scratching at his arm, unsure of how to proceed. First dates are already so awkward, especially blind ones. And if there's one thing about Steve, it's that he's gonna try to lighten the mood.

"Don't you know who he is?" Steve asks offendedly. Eddie whips around to look at Steve with wide, panic-filled eyes. The hostess raises an eyebrow and looks more closely at Eddie. It makes Steve chuckle. "I'm just kidding, let's go get burgers or something." He grabs Eddie's hand and pulls him back out the door.

"Holy shit, you scared me. I didn't know you knew who I was." Eddie has a hand on his chest and a wild grin. "She definitely didn't."

"I was just messing around. She did not want to seat our gay date." Steve sticks his hands in his pockets and then remembers Eddie's gift. "Oh but hey! I got you something."

Steve pulls out a nice bar of chocolate and a little tin of black pearly guitar picks. He offers them to Eddie with an open palm.

"Oh, what? You didn't have to do that." Eddie grabs them eagerly and slides open the tin. "This is so nice! How'd you know I've been needing picks? Now I feel doubly bad about dinner falling through."

"Hey, if I'm honest, sit-down dinner dates kind of give me anxiety. Too much pressure to keep the conversation going." Steve pulls out his keys, "You like burgers?"

Eddie huffs dramatically. "My palette is far too sophisticated for greasy burgers, Steve. I'm a chicken nugget man, obviously."

"That makes sense. You look like one." Steve teases. Eddie pouts.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"If you want nuggets we can just walk down the street. Unless you want me to drive?" Steve points in the direction of the row of fast-food restaurants.

"Yeah, let's walk."

Steve slowly turns and starts walking, glancing invitingly over his shoulder.

"So you know me." Eddie rattles the tin of guitar picks and looks a little worried by the prospect that Steve is some sort of fan.

"Only through your uncle, really. And maybe a short Google search. Sue me." Steve holds up his hands guiltily.

"Oh yeah, Wayne's my marketing manager. I send him out to spread the good word."

"Well I don't know who you've been instructing him to market to, but he's spending all his time in my store making me read book summaries to him because he conveniently forgets his glasses every time he comes in." Steve deadpans. Eddie chuckles and shakes his head knowingly.

"Yeah, It's this new long-con form of marketing. We decided to go all in for just one new fan." Eddie's got these sweet little dimples on either cheek when he smiles.

"Kinda worked, I dunno. I'm charmed by the Munsons." Steve and Eddie are veering towards each other as they walk. They're set to collide like two little asteroids. When they do end up bumping shoulders, it's soft. They stay close after that.

Steve hears a truly horrible sound coming from a bar a few meters ahead of them.

"Oh shit! Karaoke bar!" Eddie exclaims and speeds over. Eddie stands in front of the fenced-off patio and looks in while someone butchers Guns N' Roses. He looks absolutely delighted.

"What, you want to go show off in front of these poor, tone-deaf drunkards?" Steve rests his arms on the little fence and leans forward. Eddie vehemently disagrees.

"God no, I just like hearing all the very talented Midwestern voices." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows to express his sarcasm. "In other words, I enjoy making fun of bad music. I'm only human."

They sit there and give each other pained looks at the bad voices for a few minutes until someone starts trying to drunkenly stumble over the verse to a Nicki Minaj song and then Eddie drags Steve away in anguish.

"Can't take it anymore, Steve. Spare me."

***

The two of them have a good rapport, Steve thinks as they sit on a curb and share a big box of chicken nuggets. Maybe Wayne was right. It's playful. He can see how Eddie and Wayne share a handful of mannerisms and a sense of humor.

"Let's intertwine our arms like newlyweds do when they drink champagne," Steve says with a ketchup-covered chicken nugget in his hand. He wraps an arm around Eddie's and then takes a bite. Eddie follows his lead and giggles.

"I didn't know they did that. I've never been to a wedding." Eddie swallows and reaches for his soda.

"What? Never?"

Eddie shakes his head and looks up at the night sky. It's too cloudy to see any stars, unfortunately.

"My tux is in the car, by the way, should things pan out tonight." Steve jokes.

"I think they're panning." Eddie winks and leans in slightly.

"Oh yeah? Have I lived up to Wayne's description of me?" Steve bats his eyelashes and gives Eddie a sweet little smile.

"You've exceeded it, sweetheart." Eddie picks up Steve's hand and presses a chaste kiss to the inside of his wrist. Steve's heart jumps. When Eddie pulls back, he doesn't pull back far.

"Do you ever kiss on a first date?" Eddie whispers and squeezes Steve's hand. He glances at Steve's lips.

"Mmm, I could be persuaded." Steve feels a heady rush at the fact that he has somehow won the interest of a successful musician who probably meets loads of people every day. Steve reaches forward and tugs at one of Eddie's loose curls. He twists it around his finger and looks up with big doe eyes.

The tension is cut from Eddie's body when Steve looks at him like that. The move has a pretty good success rate at this point. And it doesn't fail him tonight. Eddie rests a hand on the base of Steve's neck. He strokes his thumb back and forth against the hollow of Steve's collarbone and leans in slowly.

Eddie's warm lips press against his own gently, experimentally. Their lips make a sweet sound when the suction is broken and Eddie's immediately reseal against Steve like he's irresistible. It's been forever since Steve kissed anyone, especially anyone worth kissing. He forgot how sweet and floaty it feels.

The hand on Steve's collar slides up so it's lightly holding his neck, it feels quietly possessive. It makes Steve's face heat up. Eddie's free arm wraps around Steve's waist pulling him closer. He lets himself be pulled.

Eddie starts getting more confident and hums softly when Steve weaves a hand into his long hair.

Steve could keep this up for hours, he wants to. But as dark as it is, he doesn't love the idea of continuing this so out in the open. He pulls back with regret.

"Damn, how are you not already taken?" Eddie wipes at Steve's shiny lips with his thumb.

"How are you not already taken? You're the accomplished one." Steve counters, squeezing one of Eddie's knees.

Eddie gathers their trash around them and stuffs it into the paper bag. "Well, I'll be home for a while if you'd want to do this again sometime. I can take you to a nice restaurant next time, I promise." He stands to throw away the trash. "Damn, I don't want the night to be over..."

"It doesn't have to be, you're welcome at mine." Steve leans back on one of his hands and bats his eyelashes up at Eddie.

"My New Year's resolution was to not do first date hookups, though."

"We don't have to, just come hang out." Steve holds an arm out to be pulled up to his feet from where he’s still sitting on the curb.

"Oh, yeah okay. You want me to?" Eddie pulls him to his feet with more force than necessary. It sends them both stumbling and giggling.

"Obviously I want you to."

***

The walk back to the restaurant is much faster than it was at the start of the night. They regretfully have to split at the parking lot, each having their own ride.

"Wait, call me so we can still talk on the way there." Eddie requests before jogging off to Wayne's truck. There really isn't much need to talk on the phone since Steve lives so close, but it's kind of cute that he wants to. Steve hits the call button on Eddie's contact.

"Hello, to whom am I speaking?" Eddie asks in a formal, over-the-top voice.

"This is Steve Harrington. I'm contacting you regarding your car's extended warranty." Steve backs out of his spot and waits for Eddie to do the same before driving out of the parking lot.

"Oh wow, what a coincidence. I was just wondering if my car had an extended warranty." Eddie always plays along, he digs into all of Steve's jokes and finds his own spot to grow there.

Steve drives slower than he normally would so that he doesn't get separated from his date. Eddie doesn't appreciate the sentiment.

"You drive like a grandpa. Has anyone ever told you that?" Eddie laughs and honks his horn. Steve hears it both over the phone and from his window.

"I'm only driving slow so we don't get separated, asshole."

"There's barely anyone on the road tonight to separate us, but it's fine, Steve. I value your safety. Drive at your comfortable geriatric pace."

When they pull up to a red light, Eddie instructs Steve to roll down his window so they can stick their hands out and play Rock Paper Scissors. Steve is so distracted watching Eddie's hand through his side mirror that he misses when the light turns.

"It's green, honey," Eddie alerts him softly through the phone, and Steve apologizes.

He's smiling real big the whole way there and when Steve eventually gets out of the car, Eddie comes up and grabs him from behind.

Eddie plants a few eager kisses on the side of Steve's neck. "You're fun, Steve."

"I'll show you real fun some other time." He jokes and pulls Eddie towards his place.

As soon as Steve opens the door to his apartment, he feels self-conscious about how dull it looks inside. Eddie looks around quietly. His eye catches on a picture of Steve and Robin.

"That's my best friend, Robin." Steve clarifies, just in case Eddie reads it wrong like dates have in the past.

Eddie smiles and pulls Steve back against his chest. "She looks nice."

"Looks can be deceiving." Steve laments which has Eddie chuckling into his shoulder. Eddie rubs at Steve's tummy.

What Steve really wants, what he's been desperate for, for months and months is human touch. He just wants to cuddle so badly. And Eddie doesn't seem the type to cuddle, but looks can be deceiving, so Steve's gonna ask anyway.

"Wanna cuddle and watch trash reality TV?" Steve's shoulders rise to his ears, it's a defensive gesture and he's expecting to be rejected. Eddie looks slightly amused by his offer, but he nods.

***

"So you liked him alright?" Wayne asks smugly patting the counter. Steve nervously watches the back of the store where Amber is reorganizing. Steve shouldn't be having a conversation like this at work while she's around.

"Yes, Wayne." Steve rolls his eyes. "Your nephew is lovely."

"I told him he should come here with me next time. Maybe we'll both visit ya." Wayne looks happy. The corners of his default frown have been pulled upwards by the return of his nephew. He's a good man. Steve thinks if his kid was only home a few weeks he'd want to hoard all of his attention, surely not set him up on dates.

And that's the thing about Wayne, it seems like he puts the people he cares about first. Steve wonders if Wayne is all that lonely when Eddie's gone, or if he just comes into the store so often because he knows Steve is.

"I'd love that." Steve hopes things work out with the Munsons.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Thinking about being a demigod as a metaphor for neurodivergency

Thinking about demigods fighting monsters no one else can see, thinking about the mist, how mortals just can’t see it. Thinking about Mrs Dodds, and how everyone told Percy he was crazy for remembering her. How ableism and insults are just so typical in places like a high school and yet if you’re neurodivergent and remember it years after school, you’re called crazy and obsessed because “it wasn’t that bad” and “you need to move on”. How Nancy Bobofit called Percy special. How Chiron (a centaur) was the only teacher to be actually nice and understanding of Percy, since he too wasn’t a mortal. How mortals can’t see the monsters and swords, how they can’t see the struggles we face and our defense mechanisms/ways to cope. How demigods just trying to defense themselves against monsters are seen as “evil” or a threat by mortals, because they can’t see than the reason they made that thing explode was to survive, than the bump on their car wasn’t actually made on purpose, but by a monster throwing them against it. How the world is dangerous to demigods, how they always have to stay alert, how there was always something off about them growing up. How they might have known they were demigods since a young age, or if not demigods, they knew something was different about them. Like Annabeth, who kept attracting monsters and decided to run away at just 8. She knew, her father knew, her family knew. There was no point in hiding it, no point in pretending it wasn’t there, everyone could see it. Thinking about Percy, how his mom knew, and how she made sure to help Percy no matter what, how she never cared. Thinking about Leo, who didn’t know until he was a teenager, who figured out on his own, who’s childhood was traumatized by his powers, how being a demigod completely ruined what would have been a lovely childhood. Thinking about Percy’s time in school, thinking about the demigods having adhd and dyslexia, thinking about how “their brains are trained for ancient greek/latin” and how they have trouble understanding what everyone else can easily read. Sure, it’s dyslexia, but it can also be something else. Their brains are not trained for neurotypical social cues, that’s not a language their fluent in, they have their own language, which neurotypicals can’t understand. How if they tell someone they’re a demigod, they won’t believe them, and think they’re weird. How it’s not something they can mention unless around the right people (other demigods, gods, mythological creatures, or parents of demigods kids, which in this scenario, is anyone with a connection to neurodiversity). How the parents sometimes are aware their kid is a demigod (like Sally), because they know the other parent was a god, in this scenario, they’re aware of the possibility of a neurodivergent kid because they slept with a neurodivergent person. Except sometimes they don’t know the other parent is a god, they don’t know their kid is a demigod. How someone can have neurodivergent kids, who’s neurodivergency is passed down from their other parent, except the other parent is not diagnosed. How, even still the neurodiversity community, there’s still stigma and stereotypes. How they treated Nico, even if he was just like them, simply because he didn’t fit. How the more visibly demigod you are, if you’re the child of one of the big three, the more monsters you attract, the more dangerous life becomes, how the moment a demigod realizes they're a demigod, they can't hide it, they attract more monsters, there’s no turning back.

Thinking about being a demigod as a metaphor for neurodivergency

[elysianstarfall]

under the weather (phantom busters)

summary: you're not feeling too good... what does your boyfriend do about it?

characters: shishikuno mogari, korekishi eugene, kanzaki kaoru, tamon kotaro

a/n: unfortunately self-indulgent bc i am going through it rn bro 💔 for these hcs in my mind you guys are at his house or something idk

s. mogari

immediately worries that it's his fault

"you swear you're not mad at me? say on god."

once you rule that out he's wondering whose fault it is

cause like

why the fuck does his beautiful gf look so sad

who could have possibly done this??

if it's because of a person, he's planning the most elaborate scheme to ruin their life

if it's not, he calms down and tries to see if he can help

gives you one of those super tight hugs and doesn't let go until you're literally gasping for air

even after he does let go he still keeps his hands somewhere on you

physical touch final boss i tell you

holds your face in his hands or just holds your hands or just has his arm around your shoulder he dgaf as long as he's touching you somewhere

anyways it looks like he's not listening to you when you talk

like, at all

i swear he is

you can ask him something like "what did i just say" and he'll repeat it word for word

somehow

he's not one to think of solutions though, he'll just hear you out

basically just holds you and listens to everything you say

he's never been so quiet in his life

k. eugene

the bf ever

lets you get it all out, lets you cry on his shoulder or into his chest or do whatever you need to do

and then brainstorms things to do to make it better

he's so nice about it

asks if it's something you think would work or if you want a different solution

really wants to help you, but if you tell him to stop he will

like he'll drop it right away

gets you your favorite snacks and whatnot

delays doing his homework and stuff to comfort you because

his girl is sad what could be more important than that

if you're spiraling or you're seriously getting depressed he just distracts you

he's so smooth with it too!!

like a casual topic switch to what you had for breakfast or your favorite food or your favorite color or why your favorite color is your favorite color or...

what were you sad about again?

as i said he lets you do whatever you need

he has tissues ready obviously but if you feel like sobbing into his shirt, go for it

he's not gonna stop you

he'll just stroke your hair or trace things on your back until you feel better

and you do

k. kaoru

stares at you

huh????

yeah

you're like two seconds away from sobbing your eyes out and he's just staring

he's actually so sorry

he's had to comfort his sister a couple times but that doesn't mean he's good at it

his brain starts working again though dw

not a physical touch guy but he'll reach for your hand

and if you want a hug his arms are open

the type to listen quietly and only respond when you ask him stuff

ok that sounds kinda bad but he just wants to let you get everything off your chest

and he's very much paying attention

but if you ask him for help he has zero solutions to your problem

again he's so sorry

really wishes he could help you more but his coping mechanism was literally reading manga while crying in his room

puts on an anime or a movie to distract you

but if he can tell it's not working he'll turn it off and just cuddle with you

yeah he's "not a physical touch guy" but if it makes you feel better he'd do anything

you end up just falling asleep and when you wake up he's staring again

but this time he's smiling a bit

t. kotaro

while he's trying to cheer you up, he just gets sad for you

like how is he supposed to be happy when the love of his life is going through something???

how dare he???

^ probably his thought process

so now you're both sad

great...

listens to you really closely

makes small noises so you know he's locked in

like "mhm" or "really?"

knows exactly what to say to make you feel better

are we kidding he literally helps ghosts pass on by talking to them

it's lowkey a free therapy session

promises you it'll all be ok

doesn't matter how dire the situation is, he hates seeing you worry about it so much

if you don't feel like sharing he just puts his headphones over your ears and puts on your shared playlist for you to listen to

or!!

if you ask him to really nicely he'll sing for you

he'll only do it super quietly though, he's too shy

won't initiate too much physical contact, might hold your hand or wipe your tears

just tries his best to be there for you

[sombreset]

I’m still not over Deadpool & Wolverine: WWIII. At all.

(Spoilers, also cw for blood and gore and just. Weird imagery)

There’s SO much stuff that happens in this comic, way more than I am posting here, that really digs deep into why Wade and Logan are so intertwined. They both suffered horribly. They’re both near immortal. They’ll both outlive everything they know. They both have rage that doesn’t ever seem to go away, they just have very different coping mechanisms.

This comic LITERALLY intertwines them, in more than one way.

First example is the one most people talk about, which is the whole thing where Logan cuts off a chunk of his own leg and cooks it for Wade so he has at least something to eat (is it gay to make the decision to cut off a piece of yourself and give it to another man so he has something to eat, even tho you both technically don’t need to eat, it just helps? Who knows)

Second example is the end of the comic, which I wish more people would talk about. While they’re fighting a big bad, Wade gets torn apart. Like… crushed. Into pieces. Past the point where Logan thinks regenerative healing can save him. And Logan is, despite all his complaining of how much he doesn’t like Wade, destroyed. Scared, and as the big bad points out— afraid.

Logan then goes into an absolute blind rage. He’s in pain. He’s scared. He genuinely thinks he lost Wade, and he loses it.

All the while, a small voice can be heard telling him to stop. Begging him to stop. He’s lost control. The antagonists of the comics wanted this, and while Logan is thrashing around they intentionally teleport him in front of a mother and child, fully expecting Wolverine to not tell the difference between friend or foe and kill them. Logan certainly cannot tell what he’s doing at this point. He can hardly see.

And then…

Suddenly, Wade. Because some of Wade’s blood got into Logan, he literally grew OUT of him, just in time to stop him from murdering innocent people. Because Logan had fully lost control. Wade pleads with him to stop, and in the end he literally pulls out one of Logan’s bones and shoves it into his face to get him to actually snap out of it. Afterwards, they have a lot of really good conversation, but to avoid clogging this post more— tldr Wade calms Logan down, and tells him “Nobody can decide we’re monsters but us.” Which… I love.

Later on after the fight, there’s this funny panel (and a few before) where Wade’s like dude we are sharing your ass AND dick rn isn’t that crazy and then yeah he makes the comment about being “in” Logan which. Nice

Anyways crazy b/c by the end of this comic, parts of Logan have literally been inside of Wade (chunk of Logan’s leg eaten by Wade) and ALL of Wade has been in Logan (he fucking grew out of him)

This comic is VERY good go read it if you haven’t

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey cats, I was the one who sent you that anon that's alright with me, I don't mind but is an gen z reader yeeted to the dc verse be okay? I could picture Bruce almost growing white hair because of reader who is an epitome of ✨unhealthy coping mechanism✨

Oh yeah, a reader just yeeted in there... Some universe doing some shit and Bruce adopts him... While also losing his mind. I love it. Lets go. It's a bit short, but... I like it.

Summary: (Y/N) is Gen Z. Bruce is loosing his mind.

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, Gen Z ones at that.

Bruce knew that each generation is different. They have different opinions, don't like to be told what to do exactly, although that's more specific to the newer generations. That is something that Bruce knew all to well. Gen Z wanting to have a balance between work and personal business. Bruce could respect that. But one other thing that shocked Bruce about Gen Z is the fact they have so many unhealthy coping mechanisms.

How would Bruce know?

He has adopted a teen who simply got, according to Jason and other younger heroes, yeeted into their universe. Universe where Justice League and it's heroes are real. And where DC comic universe is real. (Y/N) was forced to explain to the entire Justice League what DC is, what does it contain. And that has only applied to comic books. Then he had to explain cartoons, movies, video games... Absolutely everything.

Bruce found it to be interesting, the entire multiverse essentially, all of them are carefully planned out... Bruce found them to also be a great source of information. What to avoid, what to do... It was an incredible well of information and has decided to investigate this even more.

And while doing so, keep (Y/N) close to make sure that he has the information he needs.

And while (Y/N) is a nice kid, he has some unhealthy... Coping mechanisms as he calls them.

First one being jokes. Humor is something that can help a person if they feel down. Or if they simply want to deflect. And (Y/N)'s sense of humor is rather... Dark, to say the very least. Bruce would more often than not get gray hairs if he heard (Y/N) joking about his will to live being gone. He knows that (Y/N) is not suicidal... Right?

Humor is simply used to deflect... Right?

Bruce didn't quite like how (Y/N) was chronically online. Sure, teens spend time on their phone, but this is borderline an addiction. Bruce has tried to solve the problem with putting restrictions, taking the phone away. Put settings that don't allow (Y/N) to be online from certain times. That was to try to make (Y/N) sleep better, since he's clearly online into the late hours of the night.

Bruce simply wants the only child in the house who is not on patrol to have a normal sleeping schedule. Is that a crazy thing to ask for? It should be a normal thing to ask for, right? Being chronically online is far from good. Far, far, from good.

Also, hyper fixation.

(Y/N) was more invested in fiction rather than reality. Which would be fine. If it didn't interfere with his life. In what way, I might hear you asking? He's been neglecting his hygiene, gets angsty and anxious if he is not near his hyper fixation. Bruce never knew that Gen Z is this... Bruce shouldn't say annoying, but this was getting out of hand. Rather fast.

Bruce had to take action.

Otherwise he would get a lot more grey hairs. Way more. Way more.

" (Y/N), go to sleep. " Bruce pleaded, suited up and ready to go on patrol, however, he can't go, knowing that (Y/N) won't go to sleep. And everyone needs their 7 to 9 hours of sleep. Besides Bruce and the boys that are... On their night job. To put it mildly.

" I'm not tired Bruce. "

A common response in the most recent days from (Y/N) to Bruce.

" I swear to God, I'll sedate you with ketamine if you don't go to sleep. I'll knock you out with it to the point you'll be sleeping for days. " Bruce threatened and then came the infamous two words.

Alright, bet.

Bruce was seeing red at the mere thought of those words. They were both taunting and dismissive. Not something to be saying to an already stressed father anyway. And while Bruce has grown to love (Y/N) as his son, he was going to lose his mind with him.

" Alright, here's a deal. You go to sleep and sleep through the night and I'll take you to see your favorite artist. "

(Y/N) tilted his head, frowning.

" Promise? "

" I promise you. I swear it to you. I'll get you VIP tickets. I'll make sure to take you myself and pull strings. But for the love of God and everything else, go to sleep! "

[crustyfloor]

I loveee all the hyper-realistic symbolic imagery in Karma like ahhhgghh the visual storytelling alongside Mizi's narration...it paints the picture of a woman with a cynical view of life now, all of these images relate back to pain and karma and selfishness, thus is the human nature at the end of the day, but a flawed perspective nonetheless that is majorly encapsulated by that mutual destruction and suffering (and projection)

The lambs -

"Because humans are the root of all pain." -

Lambs are constantly symbolic of vulnerability and purity. I like the analogy between lambs and humans in Alien stage because they're all perceived as animals and live cattle (like "products" and their "providers" for instance), so I think in a similar sense it's meant to symbolize the dynamic between humans, when the baby lamb is hurt, therefore losing it's innocence and having been directly impacted by violence, the adult licks it's wounds and substituting the pain and loss of innocence with comfort, that's the consequence of trauma and violence that humans face at a young age and they seek out each other for comfort

In the eyes of Mizi, who is narrating this sequence, I think she would see this as an act of hypocritical affection, 'humans are the root of all pain-- and their own' so when they try to be each others healing and savior, they hurt each other because they're hurt people, it's like the idiom of "licking each others wounds" in the lense of unhealthy relationships, it's like self-pity and coping mechanisms, but do they fix it or do they just ignore it momentarily because of the comfort? They always end up perpetuating their pain like selfish beings (sound familiar... sound like she's projecting...🫩)

-

(In connection with this ^ ) Metaphorically, Mizi is the lamb, the beautiful, harmless damsel. A gentle creature, livestock. That's how Mizi's always been perceived by aliens and humans around her

In the broad sense, it does speak for Mizi's dependency and vulnerability before, akin to the lamb who was injured and sought out faux comfort where she could get it. Indirectly, there is kinship between the two. It's interesting that before, she was prey; that's why she tried so hard to be on the other end of the food chain through other lambs. Now she's symbolized by a goat; she perceives herself as the predator.

-- I bring this up because of the key difference between what goats represent and what lambs represent, where lambs are the closest to Christian theology and god, goats can be associated with the devil and satanism. They symbolize the devil, inhumanity, and selfishness-- The flesh's impulses and unknown, suppressed desires towards temptation that lead them astray from god and purity/innocence should they embrace the dark side of human nature- (hatred, obsession, guilt, greed, lust, etc.)

This is all often represented and embodied through the eyes of the goat, and Mizi's eyes are meant to be directly paralleling the eye of the goat we see here, as if she's staring directly back at it, in a sense it's like directly facing the darkest parts of your soul and the most unpleasant parts of yourself (like introspection), and Mizi's monologues/actions during Karma have all been her giving into resentment, selfishness, guilt, and inhumanity. Shedding the fleece of the fragile and pure lamb and that facade that she had taken on is berated by the Mizi, who feels destroyed and hopeless. She does see herself as one terrible, selfish human being.

-

The three hares -

-"We're creatures who can't seem to love without exploiting."

The representation of humanity with perceivably meek and fragile animals such as hares is such a nice touch. To possibly convey how the aliens see them as pets/animals (rabbits are even tested on, so it's akin to aliens seeing them like lab mice and product), but also the fragile nature of humans, yet their capacity for violence and greed, and selfishness

While human love is gentle and sincere (hence the hares), it can be dangerous and destructive; that's just the nature of love and survival. I like to think the hare killing it's own kin is symbolic for how Mizi thinks of the nature of humans who use and project cruelty onto each other in the pursuit of some sense of "self-serving love" or out of the human nature to be selfish, and again it relates to how Mizi sees herself as the wolf in sheep clothing, as the violent creature who killed her own kin all for her own survival . This is her perspective after all

-

The moth and its cocoon -

-"We're creatures who can't seem to love without exploiting."

The first thing that came to mind for me with this was the protective nature of a cocoon and the immaturity/fragility of the new moth inside. Now it also looks apparent that the moth is being preserved with pins? So the essence of new birth (rebirth), fragility, and innocence is being preserved

I'd like to think that it's all about preserving innocence? but it's innately cruel to do that to an animal, so keeping others stagnant, trying to keep their innocence stilled in time so they never grow or change from that soft, protected, shell-like demeanor for the sake of a twisted sense of self-preservation by feebly preserving self-assurance, and naivety, or doing that to someone else is a cruelty that will come back to bite you (and we see that in Mizi and Sua) again it ties back to the theme of karma, that Mizi sees humanity's faults, she thinks they do it to themselves by acting foolishly like this

-

MiziSua abstractly hurting each other -

-"We're creatures who can't seem to love without exploiting."

(This one did confuse me for a while so this might sound disorganized )

I think this symbolizes the co-dependent, mutualistic relationship of Mizi and Sua that leads to their mutual destruction. It reminds me of how candles need fire for their primary purpose, and Mizi and Sua's fire is essentially love; it's just as passionate and volatile. Mizi and Sua are candles whose light burns bright and will eventually burn out, maybe even destroy them in the process, until they're nothing but they burn together regardless of their instability and how they will end up hurting each other (See Sua's hands burning), they still continue to love each other and embrace it's cruelty.

I think in this sense it's to highlight the ignorance in ignoring one's own capabilities to hurt and be hurt just for love is selfish, through Mizi's perspective, I can see why she perceives this as exploitative, as humans use eachother's flames (love) and take their pain out on each other in a fire that's destructive too, well this just reflects how she sees her dynamic with Sua, despite their best intentions they love and hurt each other but Mizi feels like she did it on purpose because she was that self-centered and selfish, she destroyed and discarded Sua for her own benefit "If you love and hurt each other, what does that cause? What is the purpose in doing that to others and yourselves, and crying when it reaches a breaking point?" kind of thing (somewhat)

[quirkyfries]

Ruin ramble because writing his pov is interesting

Do you ever notice that Ruin gets really self depreciative about himself sometimes? (Maybe not quite self depreciative, but highlighting things about himself.) Implying vulnerability in a way that can almost come off as a joke if it weren't for his tone of voice. He says he hasn't been safe in a long time, it would be nice to sleep for once, wouldn't his death be hilarious? It comes off as a cry for help, but he states it as fact, he's convinced it won't change.

He's very stubborn about what he's done. He had nothing left to lose. No, there was absolutely no other way he could've gone about destroying the creator, he'd spent years considering his options. Yes, Solar was collateral, unfortunate. Those lives were a necessary sacrifice. He had to do it. There was no other way.

To him, he chose the lesser amount of people in the trolley problem. That was the morally correct thing to do in the circumstances he was given, lives would have been taken either way. He had to do it. (He could've walked away from the lever that switched the rails, but that would be the self serving option, wouldn't it? To move on?)

The most interesting part about it to me is, why does Ruin keep on going? All he's known is pain and suffering in some shape or another, he had nothing to live for after his goal was completed. All he'd ever known was bad, bad, bad, vindictive release, a little bit more bad, and then nothing. He was ready to die, he didn't know where to go.

Then came along this new dimension, one he'd apparently accidentally created through his actions. For someone who has nothing to gain or lose, wouldn't this be a nice chance of pace? To look forward to something nice that was more or less your responsibility in a weird way, to cultivate something good for once after a life of bad? To be able to take the place of your abuser, break that cycle? This new dimension is his reason to keep going, he will see this one good thing through if he can help it. Even if he isn't particularly liked by his migrated peers.

But he still isn't secure. There are enemies he'd made, the insurmountable weight of lives on his shoulders, and a new uncertain freedom of identity. (Granted, he still has to lie to some people to get by. I more mean his own Creator, the Virus act, and Nexus + Dark Sun here. Ruin having to strike deals and bargain for his life and act against his own morals to survive. But those are gone. When had Ruin last acted like himself, truly? He had barely been able to define himself as an Eclipse before everything bad happened.)

Does Ruin hate himself? I don't know, he's very adamant about hating what he had to do, but would do it again. He believes he was right, he's even defensive about it to several people, but there is still something that's bothering him. Does he hate himself for pressing the red button? Dunno. Maybe subconsciously. He's clearly meant to parallel Puppet with how he is now, they're the same words in different font. Ruin pulled the lever to kill the smaller amount of strangers to save the greater amount of strangers. Puppet was inside the train that killed everyone she knew. She wants to repent, Ruin hasn't shown much interest in it. Does a selfless act require repentance?

I like to think he has a bit of a dissociation issue, he compartmentalizes things if you squint, a possible coping mechanism of something called cognitive dissonance (a disturbance that happens when your actions do not align with your morals/values.) He was right for what he did. What he did was bad. What he did was necessary. He deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. There's some contradicting statements there, he'd have to separate some things into neat little boxes in order for it to make sense in his head, so he didn't torture himself thinking about what that said about himself and his values. What he did was right and necessary. What he did was bad and he deserves his fate. He doesn't like pain. Still contradictory a bit, but a little more organized. If he focused on the positive box more than the negative box, he can feel better about himself, but he's painfully aware of the negative box' existence. Maybe he avoids looking at the negative box at all times and ignores the contents, but what's inside is so over accumulated that it can't help but be constantly present and occasionally overflow in those matter-of-fact cries for help. A lotta PTSD can fit in this bad boy (pats ruin on the head)

Does that make sense? I don't know, I feel like a therapist trying to write from his point of view. What is wrong with this little british guy.

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠✯

SON OF HADES!CHRIS X BLACK DAUGHTER OF HECATE!READER

IN WHICH…The son of Hades finally talks to his crush after months of longing

WARNINGS: no smut!!! just cute fluff! awkward/loner chris, also mentions of stalking.

triplets as sons of gods x goddess

Chris had a problem.

Well, multiple problems actually but the main one was that he liked a girl.

He liked a girl, and he didn't know how to navigate those feelings.

Chris didn't show or talk about his feelings much. He tended to bottle them up, only spilling them on the pages of his trusted journal. However, that wasn't working this time around. Occasionally he would tell his best friend Matt, but the boy was either too drunk or high to listen fully or even comment on them, so he wasn't any help either.

He didn't know what to do. He's never had a crush before and he felt like he was going crazy. He so badly wanted to talk to her, but he was scared.

Scared of her and the possibilities that were yet to come.

What if she called him a freak? What if she laughs in his face? What if she didn't feel the same?

He couldn't fathom the idea of any of that happening.

So, with the pressure of having a crush and his two coping mechanisms not working, he took matters into his own hands.

He decided to stalk her.

You heard that right, stalking.

Although he would prefer to call it admiring from afar, Percy had slapped him against the head and told him it was stalking, so he's admitting to that.

Stalking the daughter of Hecate.

He knows it's weird and it's not helping better his reputation by any means, but he couldn't help it.

She was an enigma in his eyes, a force to be reckoned with. Which is why he resulted in literally hiding in the shadows and watching her.

It was easier this way, he wouldn't have to face confrontation, and he got to see her in her element. He got to see how she spent her time, her favorite activities, he got to know her.

His favorite thing to watch her do was cast spells in the woods. There was something about watching her hair fly into the air from the static, and her eyes glow that striking shade of violet that captivated him.

“I know you’re here.”

Y/n wasn’t stupid, if anything she was brilliant. She knew someone had been following her for about a month now, the air around her feeling and smelling different.

She just couldn’t figure out who it was, or why they were following her. She let them have their fun for a bit, but she couldn't concentrate hearing their heartbeat speed up every time she cast a spell.

“You can come out now, I don’t exactly like being stalked and bothered."

Chris stands in the shadows frozen, not knowing what to do. He had been caught and now she wants him to reveal himself. Before he could debate on running away, he was pushed forward, his body now becoming visible.

Y/n was shocked to see the son of Hades in front of her. She's noticed him around the camp, paying attention to him at the parties. Unknown to Chris, she started developing some type of feeling for him herself.

"Chris? Why are you watching me?"

He awkwardly looks around, rubbing the back of his neck and shoving one of his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

"I-I wasn't watching you... I just- Just stalking?" Chris blushes in embarrassment and looks down, "Yeah...stalking."

Y/n couldn't help but find his awkwardness cute, enjoying the way his pale cheeks flushed red. "Hmm, well you could have just talked to me instead of watching me for months."

Chris says nothing, keeping his eyes on the ground and his mouth shut, afraid he will say something stupid.

"Well, are you going to go back to the shadows, or are you going to sit and talk to me?" Chris's heart skips a beat as he snaps his head up.

To say he was confused would be an understatement.

He didn't understand why she was being nice and offering him company when he was just caught stalking her.

"You want to talk to me?" Chris points to himself, double-checking her words.

"Who else would I be talking to? Unless you roped in some friends to stalk me."

He laughs awkwardly and mumbles a soft "No".

"Then come on, let's sit and get to know each other."

The two demigods, sit on an abandoned bench in the woods of the camp and converse. They talk for hours about any and everything, getting to know each other better.

Chris is shocked at how easy it is to talk to the girl. She was easygoing, constantly cracking jokes and laughing. Some of her words were sassy, but he knew she didn't maliciously mean them.

"Can I be honest?" Chris asks, turning his head to her. Y/n nods and turns her body towards his.

"I was really scared to talk to you...."

Y/n smiles in confusion, "scared? Why were you scared to talk to me?"

Chris laughs nervously and messes with the sleeves of his sweater, "I don't know you're just... Nerve-wracking?" Y/n scoffs at his words and points to herself, "Nerve-wracking? How?!"

"I don't know! like I know I shouldn't judge you based on your clothes and who your mom is, because I know what that feels like and it's hurtful sometimes, but you just give off this powerful energy and you're pretty and- You think I'm pretty?" Chris freaks out internally once it registers in his head, but he calms down seeing the hopeful look on Y/n's face.

He decided to finally confront his feelings towards the girl...Sort of.

"Yeah...I do. I-is that ok?"

Little did Chris know, Y/n was screaming on the inside, giddy at the fact a boy she found attractive also found her attractive.

"More than ok....I find you cute too." Her words are soft, showing her nervousness.

The two teens look away from each other, smiling to themselves.

Feeling bold herself, Y/n inches her hand towards Chris's, slowly taking his in hers.

Chris looks down at their intertwined hands, a warm feeling spreading through his body.

His eyes meet Y/n's and the two just smile in contentment.

They were a flame in the making.

IT'S FINALLY DONE OMG!!!! LET ME KNOW WHAT YALL THINK!!! FEEL FREE TO REQUEST MORE OF THE TRIPLETS IN THE PERCY JACKSON UNIVERSE.

TAGLIST 🍑

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[little-one-eyed-monsters]

*sigh* Friends I'll be honest with y'all, I REALLY don't want to make a Part 4 of the SmartBoom/ Top Form goes too meta saga anymore 🤣🤣🤣

But these company monkeys won't stop making statements. I'm sure someone in Headliner is sitting at a desk at 8 PM going:

Can't they all just sit this down and release a JOINT freakin' statement? JESUS so many words and so many pages of the same thing over and over again, y'all out of pocket.

You know who I've been waiting to hear from throughout this whole fiasco? Smart and Boom. Especially Boom-- as the stray casualty in a fight that shouldn't have involved him in the first place. Boom, as the lead actor of the show and the face of the project, and the oldest member of the cast (older than the producer and director themselves). The one with the most to lose out of all this. I just want to hear where he stands.

But of course it's not very wise for him to speak at the moment, as it will only incur MORE fandom division and hate (and the crazies are already getting crazier by the minute. I know that... HE knows that... even Headliner knows that: silence is important.

Still, it would be nice to know how he's holding up in all of this. It's actually silly that of all the worrying videos and photos that were posted during the event of both him and Smart, THIS was the one that got to me:

Look, this dude is a foodie, okay? He said in that YT interview that he wanted to be a chef because his family owns a restaurant, but his father, uncle and brothers forced him into engineering. After the legal fiasco, in the documentary he said he moved to Pattaya to work at his uncle's restaurant. That's why he had a difficult time auditioning for roles in Bangkok especially for Top Form, because he had to travel very far.

So this dude LOVES food. I've seen him eat sushi like the fish was about to gain sentience and propose to him. He had more heart eyes for that crispy pork in their SmartBoom vlog than in all of Smart's fanservice advances combined. I remember during another SmartBoom vlog that Smart was complaining about how slow Boom usually eats. Boom loves food.

Seeing Boom swallow food numb in the fastest way he could, with none of the gusto he usually does, and trying and (kind of failing) to smile for the camera to prove he's fine, really just put something in me into perspective. How dare you traumatize Boom enough to put him off of his fish? No one messes with his love for fish, man, okay line' em up who are we hurting today?

(I am partly joking of course. Humor is a coping mechanism)

This is just a silly partial rant on the whole thing. I'm trying to be as emotionally distant as I could but man, Boom eating the fish and that other video of him skimming through the photobook with the saddest eyes inside the company van just hit different. Wtf is even happening, man.

[slashers-and-rats]

the need to gnaw.

brahms heelshire x fem!reader | nsfw | oral fixation, titty sucking, somnophilia

rat chat: I’m in a bit of a creative rut, so don’t be mad if this isn’t the best piece of writing i’ve ever done. I’m trying.

brahms had many a bad habit.

you had credited it to the fact that he lived in the walls of his childhood home for nearly 30 years. it had been something that you struggled with at first. the very idea that he had been seemingly packed away, thrown into the crawl spaces like some discarded family heirloom, made your heart ache. it was even worse when he had come out, and you had to see all of the different coping mechanisms he had developed to stay alive. he never ate a full meal, and hid scraps away in his pockets as he didn’t know when he’d be out of hiding to get food again. he went as long as he could without changing his clothes, because there wasn’t often an option for something clean. he was selfish with his things, scared that if he put them down he’d never find it again, or it would be taken from him. he slept in a near nest of his favourite dolls and collectibles, even some of your own clothes had found their way into the pile. stealing had been another point on your list.

these were all things you had worked to ween him off of. you encouraged him to sit and eat a whole meal with you, reassuring him the food wouldn’t go anywhere. when he was full, you would stop him from taking the extras, stating that you could always make him more later. it didn’t have to be scraps for snacks, he was allowed to be in the kitchen whenever he wanted. you had even set up special cupboards for him, so that he knew that anything inside he could take without asking, and you made sure to stock it with his favourite treats.

you got him new outfits. it was one of the first things you did, after seeing him wear the same thing over and over for a week. you explained that there wasn’t much point in bathing him every night if he was going to put back on the same stuff, and so you ordered him nice, comfy clothes (wifi being something you had also gotten around the same time). you had to compromise with his sweater, as it was something he was quite attached to, and so when he would take it off for bed, you’d stay up and get it washed and dried right for when he was up in the morning. you did the same thing with his mask during these times, scrubbing and rinsing it in warm water, drying it carefully with a cloth, before setting it back exactly where he put it. you did it once every week, deciding that spending one night up passed bedtime was worth making sure he was taken care of.

you cleaned up his space, and taught him to not hoard the things he had. this had been more difficult. he was a selfish boy, it was a trait he learned out of necessity. he was scared to lose what little things he had. this even applied to you too, as whenever you’d leave to go do some shopping, or someone would deliver something to the house, you’d have to stop him from having a tantrum. you started off small. he had invited you into his crawlspace one day, and by the next evening it had been tidied and his things had been organized. the trinkets and bobbles he played with were put into bins, and you had to explain to him that holding onto everything wasn’t good. he was especially scolded for stealing your own favourite clothes, and you tried to ignore when you pulled a panty or two out of the piles around his little sanctuary.

he didn’t like some of these changes. he didn’t like it when you cleaned up his nest, because the feeling was new and uncomfortable. change was odd. but, whenever he saw how happy you looked, he felt as though he could handle it. it quickly became a routine for you both. you’d do something new, and he’d adapt at a slow but steady pace. over time, he pushed back less and less, and soon you had him being a fairly well-behaved, as healthy as possible, grown man.

some habits stayed. after all, you didn’t want to change him completely. you only adjusted what wasn’t good for him. things like wearing the mask, sneaking treats when you weren’t looking, whining when he had to take a bath at the end of the day- these were things you could handle. he may ruin an appetite, or prolong the inevitable cleaning, but you could handle that.

one habit, though, seemed to be getting worse and worse as time went on.

when brahms had first slinked out of the walls, and had refused to even give you a peek of his face, it wasn’t noticeable. you couldn’t see his features, or the way his teeth would chew the inside of his cheeks and on his lips. he’d retreat back into his sanctuary at the end of the day, and you wouldn’t know he was sucking on his fingers as he slept, or gnawing on a random toy you had bought him.

you didn’t ever notice his oral fixation until it began to directly affect you. it started small. as you lived in the house, and grew accustomed to having this odd version of a roommate, you two became more comfortable with each other. the second brahms had learned physical affection was on the table, it was all he wanted. you’d find yourself preparing lunch, with his arms wrapped around your middle and his face pressed into the crook of your neck. when you were reading, he’d have his head in your lap, and cheek pressed tight to your stomach. he held your hand when you two walked through the halls together, he urged you to kiss him more and more every time you tucked him in.

he slept in his own room, but you knew that sometimes he’d sneak into your bedroom when he thought you were asleep, and he’d just run his fingers over your cheek. he was too nervous to do anything else, but it always seemed to make him so flustered anyways. such simple things seemed to overwhelm him, and you supposed that after years of being alone, you’d be the same way.

these two things collided over time; his oral fixation and his need for human contact. or, more specifically, you’re contact. he had never thought to touch anyone else before, but when you had come around… he wondered for a long time if the magic spoke of in books were real, and if you had cursed him. it was a long conversation when that had idea had been poised to you.

it had started slow. one day, as you were cuddling with him, you felt his lips mouthing over your collarbone. it wasn’t hard enough to be noticeable, it was soft and light, and you had assumed it was just his breathing. when you kissed him goodnight, and your thumb rubbed over his mask, he’d get brave and slip it underneath the chin of the porcelain, and kiss the pad of your finger. you never noticed, but right before you’d pull away, he’d try to slip it past his teeth and against his tongue. when you held him as he was fretting over something, he’d bite down on your shirt, as it was the closest thing to your skin he could find. he didn’t want to hurt you, he was afraid that would scare you off, but he wanted to feel you in between his teeth. he wanted you to fill his mouth and relieve this constant urge he had. he couldn’t take it. something about you, and how soft you were, and how sweet you looked- he wanted to devour you. but, at the same time, he just wanted to rest his lips around your fingers and suck on them as one would a pacifier.

there had been one night in particular where you finally felt the extent of his obsession.

the moon had been high in the sky, and small streams of its light trickled in through the window. it shone across you both. you were wrapped tight in brahms’ arms, legs tangled like intricately tied knots. his upper limbs coiled around your torso, and pressed your chest tight against his cheek. his mask had been discarded the second the lights went out for the night, and his sweater had been shucked off in exchange for his boxers and tank top for bedtime. he was comfortable, and felt safe being with you like this. he didn’t want to let go.

that was posing a personal problem to him. as you slept soundly, brahms became restless. he needed something in his mouth. the empty space was becoming a distraction for him, and it made him wriggle and squirm in frustration. if he moved his hands, though, he wouldn’t be able to hold you as closely. it wasn’t an option. after all the work you had done to ease him out of his more selfish traits, he still found that same fear of loss looming over him. to him, if he let go of you now, you might wake up, and scold him for being up so late into the night. you’d tell him sleeping in the same bed as you was a distraction, and that he should’ve been resting long ago, and that he’d have to go to his room. he didn’t want to. the very thought made him tighten his grasp around you.

he swallowed thick, the sound echoing through the near silent room. all that could be heard was your gentle, rhythmic breathing, and brahms’ own worrying. it came in the sound of shifting sheets and small whimpers. he was growing impatient. he didn’t like it. he was tired, admittedly, but that wouldn’t be enough to numb his urges. he needed something, anything.

as he was quietly squirming, looking for any solution to his ever growing problem, his cheek brushed against your breast. as it slid over his skin, he felt a small bump skid past the corner of his lips. brahms had rested his head on your chest many a time before, but you usually had multiple layers on, or weren’t so vulnerable. this time, as you slept unaware of the current situation, your body had reacted to something he didn’t understand. maybe it was the contact with his face, or the press of his body against yours that entire night, but your nipples had grown hard.

he had to pull back his head to get a better look, surprised. you had been taking certain “anatomy lessons” slowly. he didn’t know much about your body, or his own for that matter, but he had heard you vaguely mention your nipples getting hard when it was cold. the few times you two had gotten intimate, he had caught you squeezing them in between your fingers as he ground his hips in between your thighs, and he’d take over for you, ever the one to please.

this was different, though. in this moment, when he was overrun with this eagerness to be full, something so simple and cryptic before was seeming to make total sense to him now. he examined your chest for a moment, watching the way your shirt rose in perfect little dots around the centres of your tits. it made him lick his lips. his eyes darted up once, twice, three times, and when he found you were still deep in rem, he took a chance.

he was slow, his face creeping up to your chest until his lips wrapped around the clothed bud. for a moment, once he was attached, he didn’t move. he waited, listening through the dark to make sure you hadn’t begun to stir, and when he didn’t hear anything he continued. he licked tentatively, wetting the fabric of your pyjama shirt and playing with it between his teeth. he stayed gentle, at first, barely moving.

it felt right. he liked the way his breath warmed the area around your nipple, and the damp heat felt good on his lips. the wetter he made the cotton, the more he could see through to what he was playing with. he pulled away every once in awhile to examine his work, and gaze down at the transparent fabric where your nipple lay hard and quickly swelling for him. it made him lick his lips, wanting more, and so he’d dive back in, continuing to lap softly over this new found toy.

quickly, though, he found it wasn’t enough. the shirt was scratchy against his skin, and it turned cold quick whenever he pulled away to catch his breath. he could feel your warm skin trapped underneath the confines of your clothes. he wanted to save you from it; he could be a knight, like in one of the books from the library, and release you from the ivy you were wrapped in.

he was careful as he dipped his head down. he at first used his nose to nudge the fabric up, wrinkling it enough that he could grab the end with his teeth and hoist it up past your tits. they fell out against the bed, and the very sight made him whimper quietly in his throat. this was a new feeling. sure, he had taken you before, but the act had always been a little restrained. he didn’t understand all the movements and strides yet, and he found it was easier when you simply told him what to do and he followed along. you weren’t awake right now, though, and instead he had to figure this all out himself. at the same time, his oral fixation was something that never tended to get very sexual. usually when he chewed on things it was a necessity, otherwise he’d be belligerent and at unease. but this… it had started as a need, but became a hunger.

brahms pressed his face into the squish of your boobs. he ran his lips up and down them for a moment, feeling how the skin rippled and shifted against his own. you were so warm, so comfortable. he breathed in your scent deep, wrapping himself even further in your aura. it all felt so nice. his heart had truly been soothed.

he pulled away once again, blinking a few times to adjust his eyes better to the dark, before looking up at you. you looked peaceful, seemingly dreaming of something pleasant. he wondered if you were dreaming of him. he pressed his body closer to yours, one of his thighs sliding in between your own and pressing taut up against your clothed pussy. he could feel heat, and a growing dampness. maybe him playing with you was making you react? he liked that idea. he liked the idea of toying with you, and making you feel good even when you weren’t aware. it made him feel somewhat powerful. but, he knew he could never rise above you. you were his everything, and for this very moment, he was only mimicking what he knew you could do to him at any moment.

he wanted to continue to make you unknowingly react, and he wanted to continue to fill his mouth. so, he did both. he licked a stripe over your hard bud, shivering when he felt your warm skin searing his tongue. your lower half moved, barely noticeable if you hadn’t been so close, and dragged along his thigh. he gasped quietly against your skin. the breath against your nerves seemed to make you twitch slightly, and he caught it. he liked that little twitch, a small sign of sentience within you. you weren’t just some silly toy he hoarded in his walls, and you weren’t just something to play with. you were a living, breathing, beautiful woman. but still his.

he opened his mouth and blew hot against your chest again, watching as your muscles tightened and released yet again. it made him shudder. he couldn’t resist much more, and wrapped his mouth back around your now bare nipple. he filled his cheeks with as much surrounding flesh as he could, sucking and tonguing over your breast.

he felt somewhat nervous. if you woke up and saw him like this, indulging in you so shamelessly, he didn’t know what you’d think. would you kick him out of the room and punish him? or would you push his head firmer against your chest and moan out pretty like he’s heard before? he wondered if you’d even bat an eye, and just opt to going back to sleep and thinking it was all a dream.

it felt as though brahms brain was a blender, and as the thoughts plopped one by one into the container, they were shredded away and turned to nothing but mush. he didn’t have the room in his brain to think of anything but your body, and how perfectly it fit against him. he held you fast, and suckled hard at your tits, and moaned soft around the skin. he ground his hips without thinking into your hip, and purred and whimpered with every movement.

he pulled away with a soft pop after a minute or two of this, once again looking upon his masterpiece. a hickey was forming on your chest, quickly becoming a deep burgundy colour. at first, it worried him. if you saw that, surely you’d know what he had done. but then, it settled in his stomach, and fed into that burning desire that crackled there. he liked seeing you marked up as his, he liked being able to use you when he pleased, he liked being able to play you like an instrument even when you were asleep. he liked it all. he especially liked the way you seemed to release him of all his tension without even trying. you didn’t have to do anything, and yet you did everything.

he pressed his face in between your tits, letting the weight rest on either side of his cheeks. he rubbed his cock softly up and down your upper thigh and waist, panting hard and heating up the space underneath him. he didn’t even care his clothes were still on, if he focused hard enough, he could imagine what he wanted to truly do to you.

he wanted to flip you onto your back, and squeeze every bit of skin he could find. he wanted to watch as your flesh poured through his slim fingers, and how you squeezed your soft thighs around his waist. he wanted to hear you tell him he could do what he wanted, and give him that gentle permission to ravage your chest and cover it in bites and marks. he wanted to gnaw on you, and treat you like a dog treats a bone. but he wouldn’t destroy you, no, he’d be decorating you, claiming you as his own. every drag of his hips and buck against your body made the fantasy burn brighter.

in his head, brahms was being animalistic. he was rutting into you hard, and growling, and he was the one shoving his fingers into your mouth to keep you quiet. but in reality, he was the exact opposite. he sobbed quietly into your breasts, gathering up your nipple in his mouth once again to keep his sounds quiet, while humping your leg. he was feeling the same amount of pleasure as he would then, it just stayed subdued deep in his chest. he didn’t want to wake you, not when he was enjoying this so much.

he pulled you closer, flattening his hands against your lower back and pressing your hips flush against his own. the shift must have stirred something in you, because while you may have continued to sleep, you tightened your grip on the man beside you. it made brahms groan, squeezing his eyes tight at an attempt to not scream right then, and bite down hard on your nipple so that you’d scream too. he thought he’d like that sound, but would prefer if it was out of pleasure.

you held to him tight, unconsciously pressing his face deeper into your tits. he wrapped his mouth just around your nipple, suckling on it and muffling his quiet moans. he came in his boxers from barely anything. he shivered against you, trembling and gripping onto you, holding you close as he tried to quell the waves of pleasure running up and down his body.

his mind had emptied then, nothing inside except for the thought of you and his new found teething toys. as he shuddered, rutting out the last few shocks of an orgasm, he popped his mouth from your chest. he was satisfied for the time being. he was too spent to clean himself, too relaxed and comfortable to even dare untangle himself from you. no, he didn’t even try. he tucked his face under your chin, and shut his eyes, finally able to find peace and sleep.

in the morning, when you woke up, you were a bit surprised to find your shirt pulled up, and brahms still attached to you. often he got up before you, and put his usual comforts back in place, before starting his own day of roaming the house. but he remained at your side that morning, face hidden in your shoulder.

you took note of the wet spot in his underwear, and the dried saliva on your chest, and the purpling hickey ironed onto your skin like a patch. at first, you felt a bit confused. how had you not woken up…? but then, seeing him so content and calm, you didn’t feel all too bad. secretly, deep down, on those nights he entered into your room and touched you like a delicate flower, you had wanted him to take you in a more physical way. your wish had been granted in some regards.

[afsosville]

Spreading some Shen Jiu positivity coz I need it lol.

You know what's so great about Shen Jiu? It’s that we don’t have a clue what Shen Jiu would’ve been like if he had a chance to heal from his trauma or was equipped to deal with it. (That includes learning coping mechanisms that don’t involve lashing out on other people and getting the TLC he deserves.) We have already seen him at his worst, I wanna know what he’s like at his best!! The world nerfed him with trauma and angst coz it knew a Shen Jiu with mental stability would be a force to be reckoned with. He embodies the quote “Jupiter was meant to be a star but failed.” This is why I love Shen Jiu fics so much (at least the ones where he heals and all that). No coz I'm not getting over the fact that he used a powerful sword flying technique during the burning of the Qiu manor without practicing it first and only saw it once before just straight up pulling it out of his ass like- Or that he become a peak lord despite every fucking disadvantage thrown at him. Also! I'm pretty sure his spirit roots and cultivation talent was equal to, or even greater than Yue Qingyuan as a kid before it got ripped away from him LIKE WHAT- 

Everyone has their own interpretations of Shen Jiu’s character and it's nice to explore. Ofc I don’t like the way he is in canon. If he was a real person, yall would hate him too. I like Shen Jiu for the potential he had as a person and who he could’ve been. And I like coming up with AUs and ideas for how things could've gone differently for him because, for me, there's something so therapeutic about seeing/writing characters break cycles. Shen Jiu not having done so in SV had a narrative impact by emphasising how people display problematic and violent behaviours in response to trauma. That is why the protagonists and male leads of MXTX novels are written the way that they are, to contrast the villains. Characters like Xie Lian, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are examples of people coping with their trauma positively (semi positively if I'm being honest but the point remains). So excuse me for making Shen Jiu the protagonist in practically all the fics I'm working on lol.

Technically you can’t even say Shen Jiu is OOC for these kinds of SJ fics, coz, again, we don’t know what he’s like if he actually got the help he needed. There's this fic called Residing Over Autumn Leaves, where Shen Jiu’s personality is so malleable that he completely reflects the environment he was around in his earlier years. He suffers through a Qi deviation that actually erases his memories and he becomes a white lotus Jiumei. It’s because he was in Qing Jing peak most of the time and all his disciples and martial siblings protected him. And then there’s fics like The Hidden Flower, and the Memories Remembered series. Those speak for themselves. I'm assuming yall read them coz they're pretty much the most popular Shen Jiu fics on AO3 lol. 

Btw, I am NOT looking to argue with anyone over smt like this. Like YES I know what he did, and made sure I had that info (coz the spreading of misinformation is wild).

But I hope it's at least undeniable that he deserved to heal for what the Qiu's and Wu Yanzi put him thru??

[snowfires]

How would they react if Reader had to kill someone but out of self defense? 👀

There are many people out there in the multiverse that would stand to gain from attacking Reader—whether simply to increase their LV or to enact revenge on the likes of Nightmare and Error. The boys would never ask Reader to kill—she’s their healer, it’s not good for her to gain LV—but… what if she was left with no choice?

Dust knows that this is upsetting for you—that you feel guilty, even though it was to protect yourself. He’d try to be comforting, snuggling against your side, nuzzling his face against yours. Do you know how agonizing it would have been if anything were to happen to you? He’s thankful you’re alive. You did what you had to.

But there’s another part of him, that LV-ridden part that desires to constantly gain more, that can’t shake the image of you killing from his mind. The curve of your arms pulling the bow back, the blood and dust falling before you… that expression of focus, your complete determination to stay alive…

You looked so beautiful.

Killer has always adored how caring you are—how you would heal even murderers like him rather than leave them to suffer. It’s an attitude so incredibly different from his own, and really from his entire family. And that’s great—you balance out their most sadistic tendencies, fill the role of their healer and Queen perfectly.

Killer knows you understand when violence is necessary, and you’ve never admonished him for defending you out on the field. Still, it’s better for you not to engage in that violence yourself. Killer loves change, but he would rather not see you lose who you are. He loves the woman who healed him in the woods—not the empty hearted murderer you could become if they forced you to help with missions.

He’ll show off his particularly exciting kills, put on displays of violent magic for you, and offer to kill people who inconvenience you. But he’ll never ask you to do it yourself.

When it does happen, Killer’s not too worried. It was just one kill. A self defence kill! And you did a great job—arrow straight to the heart. Just like in training. In fact, he’s proud of you, excitedly shortcutting to your side and starting to congratulate you before he gets a proper look at your face.

You’re crying, shaking… your eyes don’t even seem to be looking at him. You stumble back, dropping the bow, and Killer catches you, drawing you into his arms and letting you sob into his shoulder. It’s alright. You can be upset about it. He’ll take care of you.

Killer isn’t really possessive. But he insists on being the one to carry you to the castle and get you settled in your quarters after Horror and Nightmare tend to your wounds. You should get nice and comfy while he finds something fun for you to do! How about your favourite movies? Or binge-watching tv? You don’t look like you’ll be sleeping tonight, which is fine. He’ll be there, helping you focus on something else. Not the healthiest coping mechanism in the long run, but when you are ready to talk, he’s there for you.

Cross is devastated. They were all there with you when it happened. He didn’t need to be out on the front lines—Killer and Horror had that handled. He should have reacted in time to protect you.

He wants to comfort you, but he’s ashamed. He can barely look Nightmare in the eyes, let alone you. Besides, what could he do that the others couldn’t? Killer is great at keeping morale up, Dust fills the quiet comfort role already, Horror is better at cooking and finding nice scented candles… and oils… and flowers…, Error has already sown you a plushie by the time you’re back in bed, and Nightmare is their King! He always knows what to do (Cross believes). 

It is Killer who snaps him out of his self-loathing. This isn’t about him. You aren’t disappointed—you’re terrified. There’s not anything any of them could have done to prevent this. It was bound to happen eventually. But you’re covered in dust and your hair is a mess, and none of them are good enough at styling it. At least, Killer claims at much.

His excuse works, because Cross rushes back to your side. A good thing, too. Cross understands human needs better than the rest of them, and still understands how horrifying it is to take someone’s life. The others can comfort you, but even Horror, who has faced most of his past, doesn’t value life the same as he once did. Cross is younger—he rarely kills. He understands.

Horror focuses 90% of his effort on making you comfortable. Cross is shaken up, so he’s the one who deals with first aid for you, with some assistance from Nightmare to find the right materials. You have quite a few scratches yourself. They’ve got to make sure they don’t get infected, okay?

It took some getting used to, but by the time this scenario occurs, Horror is used to you wanting to avoid meals after a traumatic event, and over-indulge in your favourites. He’ll find something light on your stomach, and something sugary you can keep down. He doesn’t love seeing you not looking after yourself, but the excited expression you make when he brings in a massive tub of home-made icecream sure makes up for it. You don’t worry about nothing. This’ll pass. And when Killer and Cross’ constant fussing gets too much, he’ll be there to whisk you away into the gardens for a bit. 

The other 10% of his effort? Keeping Dust from looking so damn infatuated with you.

Error knows as soon as he pops in the castle and takes a look at you. He is the only one who can read code itself—he sees your EXP has gone up, and that you’re even more stressed than usual.

Error is not good at comforting people. Intense emotions are difficult to deal with, and as a human you have so many. Navigating your quickly changing feelings feels like walking through a minefield. Nevermind trying to talk to you when you’re like this—his bluntness about the nature of the multiverse, along with his belief that the person you killed was just some abomination anyways aren’t exactly comforting. But he can do other things for you.

Error sneaks back in through a portal when the others have cleared the room for a bit, carrying what you realize is a care package—a new plushie, sweets, your favourite soaps and cake from OuterTale… 

Error squeezes your hands, simply remarking that out of everyone in the multiverse, you are still the best person he’s met. This doesn’t change that.

Nightmare is displeased. Not with his boys, no. They tend to you well, as they should to their Queen. Not to you, never you… you should never have been placed in this position. He is furious with the AU they were in when it happened.

He helps Horror patch you up, whispering loving words in your ears and ridding you of the worst of your distress—just enough so Killer can get you settled in your chambers. Then he leaves, back to the world where this happened.

They were supposed to gain that world as one of his own—a hub of negativity, sworn not to accept help from his brother or any other outcodes, and to supply him with offerings, just as all of the other worlds he “owns” do. But this? Attacking his own on arrival, harming his Queen….

Unfortunately, there won’t be an AU to own when he’s finished.

When Nightmare returns, he plucks Killer from the bed with a tentacle and sends him away from your room. It’s nearly dawn. What you need is to read a calming book, then get some sleep. He’ll help keep your thoughts and bad dreams at bay. And though he struggles to understand other beings, he will do his best to support you in recovering from this. Perhaps he can find a book on guilt to consult…

[forever-and-whats-left]

I saw someone make a headcannon post, so why not?

Erik:

• he knows pressure points, human weaknesses, etc. basically my excuse to say Erik would know how to disarm Meg in LND because what was that.

• good at everything to an infuriating level. (Everything psychological not so much)

• has an arsenal of dad jokes he uses in increasingly insensitive ways.

• has some weird thing about size. Type of guy to call you “small” as a flirtatious move…

• easily hurt, both physically and emotionally, but refuses to take a break or admit it. Unless Christine is concerned, then he’ll do nothing but wail about it for attention.

• his hands are both cold and smelly, take that translation truthers!

• if he were an ordinary man, he’d still be a complete snob.

• when he’s going crazy he vents his emotions out on a Carlotta-esque toad puppet. There is a tiny wooden stick he beats it with.

Christine:

• would love Fiona Apple.

• her love language is tolerating you.

• people call her “nice” because they rarely speak to her at all. Not that she isn’t, but I’ve always thought she was a bit asocial.

• extremely empathetic to animals. She can’t even kill a spider. (Ahem)

• dislikes being touched.

• moved around with her father a lot, so she has some pretty severe attachment issues. She had good reasons to leave Erik, but Raoul(while he can be a jerk) takes the brunt of her poor coping mechanisms.

• In another life, had Erik not been so pushy and murder-y, they would’ve been very very close.

• Asexual. Yeah. Take that.

• Or she at least would dislike the very potent closeness and intimacy the devils tango brings. In other words sex repulsed.

• After the book, I imagine she took a small break from opera. She'd spent so much of her life doing things for others, and now it was time to do something for herself. Maybe she started singing what she wanted to sing, or maybe she pursued something entirely different. My idea: she began writing stories. After all, her connection to them had always been strong.

• a private woman, thus why she didn’t speak with leroux.

Raoul:

• can be an asshole, but more willing to admit it that others. I choose to interpret the fact that he so readily admitted how cruel he was(to a man who would publish this no less!) as an admission of guilt.

• would never take away music from her.

• a bit pudgy, but has some real muscle beneath it. He can’t be a twink doing sailor work I don’t think. (That rhymed!)

• hates Erik for taking his brother from him. He has a hard time watching Christine mourn Erik because of it.

Daroga:

• becomes Christine’s friend after the plot of the book. How, you ask? Beats me.

• I don’t have many headcannons about him I’m so sorry. Please, pitch your own id love to see em! He’s such an interesting character I feel so bad!