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

[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, vindicated 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.

[alternishicons]

bisexual leo valdez and gay nico di angelo matching icons

artist links

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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.

[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

[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! "

[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??

[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!

[wilcze-kudly]

I really like the constant powerplays we see from Kuvira. Like of course we have the big bombastic ones like dangling Varrick out of a moving train, hijacking a coronation, bringing her whole army to Zaofu, using her adoptive mother and brother as props for a speech, along with just her entire penchant for afformentioned speeches.

But there are smaller things that fall into this too. Of course there's the physical intimidation. Kuvira knows she's an intense person, I believe, and she uses this to her advantage, often pushing into boundaries, because that is a very good way to get people to panic and agree with you.

Oh and also she tried to choke out one of the followers she essentially abandoned, so um. Take that as you will.

We of course, have the iconic shoulder touch. This can be interpreted as benign, even nice, but this gesture can also mean so many other things. This can be easily interpreted as a gesture of establishing dominace, invading another persons personal space (especially a person who isn't comfortable with you, which Opal and Bolin most certainly were at the moment). Putting essentially a weight on them, pusbing them down.

We also sew Kuvira's control over people manifest in the more nebulous action of controling their movements and placements. One of my favourite of Kuvira's powerplays is her olacing Wu in the Juniour Suite. Another aspect to this could be Bolin having been seated in a small metal chair as opposed to This once again, sows confusion, doubt and stress, making people more susceptible to Kuvira's manipulation. Though Wu being placed in the Juniour Suite kinda stands out here as an action that doesn't immediately carry any benefit for Kuvira. So she's either being a dick, really wanted that presidential Suite, or perhaps was trying to rattle Wu before the ceremony.

We can also see verbal belittling, especially coming out with Suyin, calling her weak ans a coward and also branding her and the twins as traitors. I do find it interesting that Suyin is such a target of Kuvira's derision, but I suppose it makes sense due to their difficult relationship.

You can also clearly see how much being in Kuvira's surroundings affects people, and how her actions and powerplays affect people very strongly. Varrick and Bolin being perfect examples of this. Bolin was already mentally unwell so he was an easy target for Kuvira, but evem Varrick was still terrified of Kuvira even in the comics.

I think one of the perfect examples of the hold Kuvira had on people is when everyone is gonna have some tea to celebrate furthering the reuinification of the Earth Kingdom and Kuvira refuses to drink the tea herself so everyone just.... puts their teas down too.

And this may seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but, you know, it's the little things. I think it sets the tone perfectly for the type of person Kuvira is.

And see, Kuvira's obsession, be it subconscious or concious,with asserting power and control has some strong basis in her backstory.

In a huge amount of Kuvira's childhood flashbacks, we see Kuvira in situations of helessness and lack of control. Most poignantly being literally dropped off by her father in a completely different city

You can totally understand why Kuvira would want to and need ro establish a sense of control over the new environment she'd been tossed into. We can see this later in the comic where a young Opal sets a boundary ("get out of my room and don't rouch my stuff") and Kuvira reacts by breaking the object she wanted.

Here she is effectively having the last say in the situation and taking control of the situation, even if the outcome isn't the one she desired initially. This shows us that this was always Kuvira's coping mechanism.

This honestly, if I were to interpret Kuvira in extremely bad faith, may imply that the main recipients of the beginnings of her manipulative and forceful streak would be the baby Beifongs. So um. That's some angst fic material.

I really need to make a longer post about Kuvira's manipulative tendencies and just how good she is at it.

[shakingparadigm]

Hiiii!!! I’m relatively new to ALNST (as in I watched it all in one go in one night and cried) and I was wondering if you have any opinions or information about this,

What do you think about Till and Sua’s relationship? Do you think they’d share anything in common? Do you think they’d like each other? I’d like to think there’s at least one thing they share in common that’s led to be on good terms.

Sorry this is a bit long, thank you!

First of all, thank you anon. I've had thoughts on this for a while! Thanks for giving me a chance to talk about it!

Till and Sua don't often interact in canon, so it's pretty easy to assume that Sua would hate Till's guts because of his crush on Mizi (especially since that art of Mizi playing with Till includes Sua looking jealous on the side, sulking in the next page).

But something to note about the characters in ALNST is that they're actually quite respectful of each other despite the crush conflict (further seen by Ivan and Mizi being very friendly despite Ivan knowing Till loves Mizi). Everyone in the garden knew Till had a crush on Mizi, the goodbye notes state that it was very obvious.

Yet despite that one instance of Sua pouting at Mizi and Till together, Sua is never shown to dislike Till. In fact, she seems to be more conflicted with Ivan instead. In the few official arts we have of them together, they seem pretty neutral.

(Sua's collar is green, showing she's comfortable/doesn't mind Till. Till's collar is orange most likely because he's a little nervous/awkward.)

In the official Anakt Kit goodbye letters, Till and Sua write messages to each other. They're short and seem more of a polite gesture than an actual goodbye between friends, but nothenless it shows that they're pretty amicable. Till writes that Sua has a nice voice and that he hopes she gets a high score in Alien Stage, while Sua tells him to take care and that she'll see him there.

I think that Sua and Till actually have the potential to be pretty good friends, strangely enough.

As for similarities, there are quite a few!

The most significant similarity I see between Till and Sua is that they're both deeply sensitive. Due to this, they've developed different defense mechanisms in order to protect their feelings.

Till is actually known to be timid, rather closed off and "cold" to others. In an early stream, he's even stated to be the most timid character of the cast. He only reveals his energetic and fiery side when he's putting his full passion into something like performing his music, when he's provoked, or whenever Mizi is involved (she makes him "strong", the creators say). Of course this standoffish and aggressive behavior is a front for his softer, more vulnerable feelings. He was heavily mistreated as a child, which led him to become distrustful of most people. This plus other factors regarding his rebellious nature and more eccentric personality result in him being a "friendless idiot". Of course, once people get to know him they'll find that Till is actually quite the sweetheart, albeit a bit awkward.

Sua is quite similar in this way. The creators describe her as soft-hearted, which is why she tears up so quickly in the IvanSua comic and the aforementioned art of Till and Mizi playing together.

Sua, just like Till, seems to be mistreated by her alien guardian. Although to a less violent extent than Guardian Urak, Sua's parent is seen to aggressively handle her without care, grabbing her by the head and shoving her forward. She's also placed in uncomfortable clothing and neglected without consideration for her own feelings. It may be due to this cold and lonely upbringing that Sua learned to hide her emotions as a coping mechanism.

It's been said that getting to know more about Sua is very difficult, as she's closed off and only ever opens up to Mizi. She seems cold on the surface, but the truth is she is hiding her sensitivity so that she won't get hurt. Sua is also very timid in nature, seen in how she only writes in the corners of people's yearbook pages with small font, putting in extra effort to not take up too much space.

But just like Till, Sua has her bolder side. Occasionally she's known to say very blunt and suprising things that other people would not expect of her, and she feels very deeply for the people she cares about. Sua may be the more cool and collected half of MiziSua, but we must not forget that she was tender-hearted to the point where she could not imagine living a life without Mizi in it, thus her sacrifice.

Both Sua and Till's original colors are white, and both are the only characters in the main cast who have ear piercings/earrings. They're both prone to tears and play the role of "god" in their respective relationships.

Something I really like about the ALNST offrec/actor AU is that among all the characters, Till and Sua were chosen to be the seniors!! I found it really cute! Sua, who is the most petite and smallest of the cast + Till, who in canon is the youngest in age. These two are actually the experienced seniors of the actor AU! It's so fun to me lol

Anyways, sorry for all of this, maybe it was a bit much, haha. Till and Sua are my two favorites, and I've always seen similarities between the two of them. I think there's similarities across several of the characters in ALNST, actually, which I hope to talk about in the future!

Thank you for the ask!!

[arrowfleur]

Sam fandom thoughts

Although I can honestly see both sides of what the fandoms been saying about the recent Sam developments I think it’s important to remember that Sam and Darlin are both extremely traumatised characters. Their relationship isn’t going to be ‘normal’. Their coping mechanisms, their timing with events, everything to do with their relationship is different to one of non-traumatised characters if that makes sense?

There are definitely a lot of ways to look at how they handle things, like how Sam being ready for sex and biting with Darlin were both after life-altering events. Would it be nice for them to come to these points in there relationship in a ‘healthier’ way? Yes it would.

But that’s literally not how their brains work. I’m not trying to patronise their characters. Their actions are still their actions, they are grown adults and shouldn’t be minimised to just what’s happened to them. But the things they’ve gone through aren’t just side story’s or plots for comfort audios.

Trauma scientifically changes the way your brain works, it can literally change who you are as person. And for Sam in particular he’s canonically never been in a healthy situation besides his relationship with Darlin (and the Shaw pack).

So if the way they do things kinda seems off to the average folk, that’s normal. Sam literally says ‘it’s not weird, it’s us.’ It’s how THEY handle things.

There’s nothing wrong with disliking it, with wishing it was different or with completely enjoying it. But I think it’s something we don’t keep in mind in this context enough.

I’ve been an avid Sam fan since he got a playlist on the channel and even to me some things seem rushed or ‘strange’ but that’s because I’m not the characters, I haven’t gone through what they have, and in some lights it’s kind of refreshing to see how relationships between different people with different pasts can develop. Instead of a character going through something horrendous having a cry about it and then going back to their old self.

Plus both of their main traumas come from their past sexual partners so yeah sex is gonna be involved in how they deal with things makes sense

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

one of my batfam hot takes is that alfred having a very kind and understanding grandfather-like role is a boring spin on the character and lacks a lot of nuance around his backstory.

like he is a classically trained british butler which means he very likely comes from a working class family. and like, as a working class brit myself, i sometimes find the kindly, well-mannered grandfather thing grating because, a lot of white, working class men his age are unfortunately not nice people. some of them are like my great grandad was a really great guy, but hes really the only one i know who is or was not awful.

because their generation werent as exactly raised with ideals about mental health and emotional regulation. a lot of them were traumatised due to ww2 either because they saw it firsthand when they were like 15, they were old enough to remember things like rationing and the blitz, and a lot of them lost their dads in the war.

i dont expect american writers to understand how much ww2 affected britain (modern britain is still so steeped in it, its insane) and that generation specifically, BUT id love to see that explored more with alfred. like depending on where he grew up, he would likely have been separated from his family during the blitz and sent off to the countryside like most of the kids in cities were, (this is how narnia starts) and like, a lot of them were horrifically abused or used as free labour. a lot of them also lost parents and never got to say goodbye to them. many came back to destroyed homes. some kids also remained in the city or their parents requested them back so theyd experience the blitz first hand and would know the sign of air raid siren meant they might die that night.

you can see how a lot of that generation were permanently scarred. and for a few decades now, alfred would have been part of that generation.

plus he was also a secret service officer which is just like more opportunities to be traumatised and more reason for him to not be this gentle old man whos in touch with his emotions.

and like, as a classically trained butler, he would likely be more reserved because you know, thats how he was trained. also british men that age would also likely be very hands off in regards to emotions.

but the biggest reason as to why the gentle, kind grandfather take doesnt really make sense is that he raised bruce wayne.

like bruce has a whole slew of emotional issues and problems, and obviously some of that is going to come from alfred raising him because you know, thats kinda how that works. i know a lot of batfam folks want bruce to be this great dad, so i guess their take on alfred fits that, but canonically, bruce wayne is an emotional mess and not the best father figure at the best of times.

you cannot look at that bruce wayne and tell me alfred did a good job.

listen, this shouldn't even be a hot take. it's just an opinion that differs from the most popular interpretation of Alfred as an endlessly giving grandmotherly old man.

the thing about Alfred is that more than anything you have to recognize that he's an enabler. and I love the man to pieces, but at absolute best he was extremely negligent in Bruce's upbringing, if not actively encouraging the world's worst coping mechanisms.

I hate to give Gotham credit for anything, especially when it comes to Alfred since I hate their Alfred, but the show was bang on in its insistence from day one that Alfred should not have been Bruce's primary guardian. it's painful to watch how often Alfred encourages Bruce to tough it out and suck it up, and it never really stops. in one of the latter seasons (four, I think) he hits Bruce hard enough to give him a black eye during an argument, and this is ultimately written as a situation in which Bruce needs to apologize to Alfred for being a bratty teenager, rather than Alfred owing Bruce an apology for hitting him when he's a grief-stricken teenage boy cracking under stress.

and like, listen, I understand there are Watsonian and Doylist layers to this. Alfred fundamentally can't have been a good enough guardian to stop Bruce from channeling his trauma into fursuit vigilantism, because then there's no story. I get it.

but jesus christ.

I don't think characterizations of Alfred as a stoic caregiver are wrong, but I do think people don't want to think about how he got there. when I see the aged Alfred patching up Bruce's wounds and nagging him to eat, or doing his best to offer advice to the kids who have gotten mixed up in Bruce's crusade, I see a man who realized a long time ago that he dropped the fucking ball and has dedicated his life to doing as much damage control as possible. okay, so, completely failed step one (raise a well-adjusted child). can we at least make sure that this basket case adult man doesn't go completely over the edge? can we make sure he doesn't become a killer? can we encourage him to take off the mask and be Bruce Wayne sometimes? can we keep the children safe?

I do think Alfred loves all of them, for whatever its worth. his care for Bruce is real, that is his son, the Batgirls and Robins are his extended family. he'll cook their uneaten meals and clean the entire, massive house himself and stitch them up every night forever. he would die for them. hell, he'd kill for them. he loves them. but none of that means he raised Bruce right.

that's kind of the thing I like most about the Bats: they all care so, so much. but the way they love is terrible.

[koiimii]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝘾𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚…

- 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒

- 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛

- 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙃𝙞𝙢

- 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩

————

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐦

- Alex loves reading. Both books and the paper. He carries his reading glasses on the collar of his shirt, or in his coat pocket.

- If he weren’t in a band, he would own a really nice bar and lounge. Live music, a reading area, and he’d be a bartender as well. It would probably have a soft of rustic, modern-baroque style.

- He chews cinnamon gum. He enjoys how it makes his tongue burn a little.

- Alex sometimes prefers for feminine scents when picking perfumes. They mix well with his natural lingering cigarette scent.

- He always keeps a cigarette tucked behind his ear.

- Twisting and tugging his rings has become a coping mechanism for his anxiety.

- Alex has a big sweet tooth for desserts and pastries. Especially homemade ones. Red velvet is a particular favorite.

- Aside from his favorites, a guilty pleasure of his when picking films are period pieces. He adores them. Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, Dead Poet’s Society, Dorian Gray…

- Alex really wants to learn French.

- He loves vintage pieces when choosing fashions. Jewelry, leather, belts… he likes the timeless feel.

- Alex is actually a very good cook. Baking, and bartending too! He loved a homemade margarita or a Moscow Mule

- Usually in an interview where Alex is wearing sunglasses, he’s dozing off.



𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

- Alex loves when you wear the things he bought. He absolutely adores it. Especially things like dresses or lingerie.

- Alex secretly has a bit of a green thumb and loves to keep plants around the house, all named after his band mates, and you.

- He has a very naturel pout when he’s deep in thought, and likes when you kiss it to snap him out of it.

- Alex secretly enjoys being the little spoon when the two of you cuddle. He’s want you to press your chest to his back, and wrap your arms around him.

- Alex always likes to keep some extra sweaters, hoodies, and dress-shirts out for the finding of you. He loves seeing you roam around his house in his clothes. Drives him crazy.

- Alex loves making you worked up and mad. He likes your little bossy fits and your silent treatments, because then he can go out and fix them with gifts and things.

- Alex stutters quiet a bit when it’s just the two of you. He says it’s because no matter how long the two of you have been together, your still make him so very nervous.

- His favorite thing about you is your legs. He loves when you oil them on date nights, and they shine. He love how soft they are. He loves when your thighs thicken when you sit down. He loves when you wear heels. He likes to kiss your calves and up when you two are in bed together. He just loves your legs.

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖

- Alex is very hyper-sensitive. The little things turn him on or arouse him.

- if you could photograph Alex after sex, you’d have multiple photo albums. You’ve never seen such a pretty afterglow..

- His hair is disheveled and sweaty, stuck to his forehead.

- His lips are glossy and parted while he tries to catch his breath.

- His eyes are sleepy and low, yet they still get all big and doe eyed when you speak to him…

- Alex gets super lazy after sex. His aftercare is cuddles and kisses. - He just gives soft, dazed praises while you clean the both of you up, patting your thighs and kissing your exposed parts.

- His flush cheeks and nose are heart wrenching. You especially like how flushed he gets while he’s buried between your thighs.

- He loves when you caress or scratch his chest and back. Especially with longer, freshly done nails. If you don’t do it yourself, he’ll take your hand and guide it down his body to where he wants it the most.

- Alex has two very different moans. Usually, they’re very vocal. Long, drawn out groans and strained curses under his breath, or there’s the more breathless, whiny like moans you’ve come to favor. The way he cries out your name and his voice cracks before he hits that pinnacle of pleasure.

- Your neck is his go-to, especially your collarbone. It’s always his first target. Kissing, biting, licking, he just loves your reactions.

- There was no in between when you and Alex made love. In the mornings, soft sex was perfect. Both still very sleepy, his strong arms holding you close, holding your leg in the air as he buried his nose into your neck. Keeping his thrusts slow and lush. His cheeks puffed and rosy, fluffy disheveled hair and doe eyes staring up at you as you ride him lazily, or sometimes he’d hold you close to his chest until you both spilled over. Soft breaths and whimpers exchanged, the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear when he got close. It was all amazing.

- Rough sex was another story. When Al was pent up or frustrated, that’s when you knew you were in for it. Your wrists clutched firmly in his hands as he pounded into you. He especially loved it when you started to cry from the overwhelming pleasure. He’d kiss your tears but his rhythm never faltered or softened. He loved taking you from behind too, forcing you down into a cat-like arch and gripping your hips so hard he left imprints.

- You two came to agreement and made your safe word “Rosie.”

- Knee socks. You thought they were childish at first, but when Alex first saw you wear them to one of his concerts, he took you right there in his dressing you. Now you have a thousand pairs.

- On the rare occasion that Al us still energized after sex, he’s the King of Aftercare. Water on a tray, tea, a warm bath, a hot meal on the way, his clothes freshly out of the dryer so they’re warm when you wear them, he wants nothing more than to make you feel completely safe with him, especially after more intense love making.

- On stage, Alex is very immersed in his performance. When on-stage, he transforms. There was something erotic about the way his body moved, usually on its own. Grinding and rolling his hips, caressing his mic stand, getting down on his hands and knees… Alex couldn’t count the amount of times he’s found himself turned on during a performance or concert, having to quickly hide his erections the best he can.

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

- When you first made it official, Alex desperately tried to get over it, but there was this mind eating feeling he had that he didn’t deserve you.

- After disagreements that are exceptionally bad, he’ll come find you afterwards like a timid child.

- “Are you still upset with me, love…?”

- He hates waking up alone. He just feels like once he’s off stage, no one cares for the real Alex. He always need you in bed with him.

- He’s a terrible sleeper. He gets no where near enough sleep and so he tries to nap whenever he can.

- He’s tried to stop smoking so many times, but he really struggles with anxiety.

- You had been shouting at him once and quickly stopped when you realized he was having a panic attack.

- “I’m not good at this relationship thing am I?”

- When Alex realizes his accent is “too much”, he tries to correct so it’s easier to comprehend.

- When faced with chances to open up about his own emotions, he automatically brushes it off or gets distant.

- “I don’t know, does anyone really care what I think?”

- “I’ve just gotten used to not having the last word…”

[wannabanauthor]

What should happen to BuckTommy in Season 8b

Eddie's thinking about moving to Texas, right?

Well, he has to pack, and he calls his two favorite buff men to help him pack and load all his stuff.

Tommy did not know Buck was going to be there, and vice versa.

They stare awkwardly at each other before noticing that most of Eddie's stuff is already packed.

Cheeky bastard.

He locks them both in his house with the parting, "Figure it the fuck out, then I'll unlock the doors."

Buck and Tommy are more than able to break down the door if necessary, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do to their best friend's house.

They try to out-wait Eddie, but several hours pass with no communication from him.

Buck is doing his best to not look or talk to Tommy, but all the doors are locked, including the bedrooms, so he's stuck in the living room.

The kitchen doesn't have any baking/cooking ingredients, just prepared food in the fridge.

Buck is without his coping mechanism, and at some point he breaks down crying in the kitchen.

Tommy wants to comfort him, but he knows he's the reason Buck is like this, so he feels stuck and doesn't know what to do.

He hands Buck a tissue and some water, but Buck turns around and ignores him, trying to hide his sobs.

Tommy goes back to the living room and sits on the floor.

"Why?" he hears Buck say.

He gets back up and goes into the kitchen.

"Why what?" Tommy asks.

"Why did you give me a second chance just to break my heart six months later? Why didn't you tell me that you only saw us as a temporary thing? Why did you even give me hope that we could be something more?" Evan asks, in between sobs.

"Evan, I'm so-"

"It's Buck. You don't get to call me Evan anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Buck stops crying and looks at Tommy. There's anger and heartbreak written all over his face.

"Fuck you, you don't get to be sorry," Buck says.

"But I am. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. You asked me to move in, and I panicked. I've been hurt before, and I knew I couldn't survive it if I moved in and then lost you."

Buck scoffed, but out of irony, not amusement.

Tommy stepped closer to him, and Buck remained where he was, almost as if he was sizing Tommy up.

"You kept putting me on this pedestal, and I knew one day you'd see me for who I am and leave," Tommy says.

"Is that what you think of me? Out of the two of us, you're the one who has left me, twice," Buck points out, and Tommy winces at that.

"You're very impulsive, and we hadn't even broached that topic before. I thought I was okay with you setting the pace, but I guess I wasn't. I thought it was in our best interest to end things now then later when it would hurt more."

Tommy pauses for a moment and looks at Buck. Really looks at him. His own heart breaks when he picks up on the little details of how Buck had been handling the breakup, The flour under his fingernails, his stubble, his longer curls, the bags under his eyes, the fidgeting with what's ever in reach, currently tissues being torn into little bits.

Tommy knows in his heart that he practically broke the man he loves, and it makes him feel even worse. There is still a part of him that wants to run, but he can't run again. Not after seeing Evan like this.

"I'm scared, Evan," Tommy confesses.

Buck's head snaps up in surprise, and he squints his eyes as if he doesn't trust Tommy.

Tommy feels the panic rise within him, but continues his train of thought. "Evan, I love you. But i'm terrified that one day you'll get tired of me and find someone else. It's happened before, and-"

"I'm not him. I'm me. From the first moment we met, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't understand it at first because it felt so different from my past. I mean, you're not the first guy I've had a crush on. At all," Evan says.

Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably. He'd rather not think about Evan's past crushes.

"We spent nearly every free moment we've had together," Evan says. "I thought we were ready to move to the next step."

"I wasn't ready, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have stayed and talked it out, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and I needed to leave."

"And you left, then ignored me for weeks," Evan says. "I felt like I was going insane and imagined our whole relationship."

Tommy steps into Evan's space and uses two fingers to lift Evan's chin. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Evan. I love you so much, and I'm terrified because it's never felt like this before."

Evan gives an amused chuckle. "I guess it was my turn to see you at your worst."

Tommy cups Evan's cheeks. "I am so sorry, for everything. I feel like I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm still ask-"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss.

Tommy relaxes and kisses him back. It feels like coming home after a long day of work to the arms of his partner. He never wants that feeling to leave.

"I love you too, asshole," Evan whispers against Tommy's lips.

They both chuckle at that.

"Where do we go from here?" Evan asks.

"Couple's counseling. I want us to work. I want us to be forever," Tommy says and gives Evan the tenderest kiss.

"That works," Evan replies between kisses.

They don't stop kissing or holding each other until they're nearly out of breath.

"Finally!" they hear from outside and jump.

Eddie's standing outside with his phone in hand, and on the screen is a live camera feed showing.

"Now, let's get something to eat," Tommy says and kisses Evan again. He was going to kill and thank Eddie, but for now, he's happy just to be with Evan again.

He looks into Evan's eyes and knows that this is it for him. Evan's the one.