#basically i wrote about a character having a panic attack

[outstanding-quotes]

One thing I hadn’t been warned about using my own experiences with my mental illnesses in my creative writing (but am now learning the hard way) is that people will sometimes respond to your characters with the same prejudices and stigma that you’ve faced in your own life. And it can really hurt!

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You and I, We’ve Grown Comfortable Here

Pairing: Lee x Reader

Summary: Two outcasts with nowhere to go decides to go nowhere together. In each other they find shelter, acceptance, intrigue and a bond neither expected to go as deep as it does.

Words: 13.6k

Warnings: not proofread, basically five fics in one (a year of their relationship developing), assault, hints at sexual assault, implied attempted rape, death, murder, cannibalism (bones&all hello), make-out sessions, blood, implied smut(?), panic attacks, implied abusive parents, kicked out of home, living in a car, crying, angst, slow burn, cannibals in love, hurt/much comfort, happy ending, lee's truck being a character in and of itself

A/N: i am so unwell, i wrote this whole thing in the span of ONE day. this man makes me unwell. anyway, if i ever write any other fics or drabbles for lee, unless otherwise specified, presume it is based on this background because i am obsessed with these two.

***

When you saw the headlights, your heart caught in your throat just a little. It was late, too late to be out walking down a relatively abandoned countryroad, too late to even be awake. With only the stars for company, you were dragging your feet as you were walking in the hopes of hitting a camping site soon. You had heard good rumours of one not far away from the town you are putting in your rearview mirror. Metaphorically of course, with no driving liscense or car, all you had to get from one place to another were your shoes and your bravery.

It had been a couple of months since you left home. Whenever you had the opportunity to sleep, you could still hear the shouting and the slamming of doors when your father finally threw you out for good. The home in question had never felt safe for you anyway, you had never fit into the small town cookie cutter they tried to press you into, even when it drew blood.

After all that, you might be best off alone you concluded, and have stuck to that as you made your way through the US. There was nowhere in particular you wanted to go, you just did not want to be tied down anywhere. You wanted to see, explore and feel.

You had been dabbling in hitchhiking over the months, always sending a silent prayer to gods you did not believe in before getting into the strange cars. With a knife always in the pocket of your hoodie, you felt relatively secure that you could defend yourself if worse comes to worse. Yet you knew you can never truly know. You tried to keep your head on you still.

There had not been any cars on the road you were currently occupying for the past two hours. It had, for a glorious moment, felt like yours. Just you and the pavement and the night. So, when the headlights lit you up for behind, you grew a bit weary. Part of you wanted to jump in it, unsure of how long you had left until the campsite, tired to the bone, but you knew you shouldn’t at this hour.

But you were also so incredibly tired.

The rumble of the engine neared closer and the driver dimmed the headlights. On your left, the car drove into view, an old beat up truck, and it was slowing down to stop beside you. Leaning over the passenger seat, a young man peered out through the rolled down window, a messy head of freshly dyed hair shining like a beacon in the dark. He watched you with a face torn between curios and cautious.

“You good?” he called out, trying to be heard over the noise of his car.

You didn’t answer right away. Instinct told you to keep walking, to keep your head down and stay invisible like you’d been doing all night. But something about him made you stop.

You squinted through the light. “What do you think?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that was more habit than humor. "Yeah, didn’t think so." His voice was rough, not unfriendly, but sharp around the edges. He glanced down the empty road and then back at you. "Need a ride or something?"

Every ride so far had been a risk, a quiet leap of faith, and it wasn’t like you had a good track record with trusting people. Your parents had made sure of that, kicking you out like it was nothing, like you were the problem for being too loud, too you.

Still, you couldn’t keep walking forever. And there was something intriguing about this boy, out here alone in the night, just like you.

“I guess that’s where we’re at tonight,” was your response, and he nodded immediately with a halfsmile.

“Fair enough. Where you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Same,” he said, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other across the empty road. Something about him felt different — like he wasn’t just another passerby. You weren’t scared. Maybe that should’ve worried you.

He threw the passenger side door open. “You coming, or what?”

"Depends," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You a serial killer or something?"

He smirked, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes, something guarded. "Not tonight."

"Comforting," you deadpanned, but you found yourself stepping closer to the truck anyway.

He watched you climb in with a kind of steady calm, like he was waiting for you to make the call. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in him, no leering or weird comments, just quiet, detached curiosity.

The truck smelled faintly of gasoline and something else, something metallic that made the back of your throat tighten, but you ignored it. There was a quiet ease to him, though, like he wasn’t thinking of you as prey – like he wasn’t thinking of you at all, really. He just… was. And it felt like enough.

The silence stretched between you as the truck rumbled down the road. Finally, you turned to him, curiosity itching at your thoughts.

“So, you pick up girls off the side of the road often, or am I just lucky?”

He gave you a side glance, something like amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lucky’s a word for it.”

There was something raw in his eyes when he said it, a guarded edge you recognized. You didn’t push it. 

“I heard there is a campsite in the town over, I was thinking of maybe staying the night there,” you said, not wanting him to feel stuck with you in the car forever.

“The Meadows Site? Yeah, I was actually thinking of parking there for the night myself,” he said, giving you a curious glance before looking back to the road. “But it is a few more hours off.”

“Wow, I really am lucky you picked me up then.”

He snorted at that, a sound you somehow hadn’t expected to escape from him, but was amused to hear. You didn’t feel a need to chat further at the moment, and didn’t get the impression he did either. It was not uncomfortable though, the opposite actually. The atmosphere in his truck was comforting, to the point where you would almost fall asleep, though you really should not. Still, there was one thing left to ask.

“What’s your name, kind stranger?” you quipped, teasing tone evident in your voice. He smiled fully then, relaxing more into his seat.

“Lee. And yours, lucky girl?”

You told him your name and settled back into your seat yourself, watching the stars blur into the dark as the truck carried you further and further from everything you’d ever known.

***

It turned out you both had nowhere to go. No one waiting for you at the end of the line. No real reason for him to drive off without you the morning after your night spent in Meadows Site. He had borrowed you a blanket to lay on, thicker than the one you had been surviving on for a while now. After eating breakfast at a shop nearby that he showed you, clearly more familiar in the area than you, it just made sense to get back into the truck with him. That’s how you both rationalised it, as your eyes sparked with interest and entertainment whenever they met. Just made sense.

From that day, Lee’s truck became the closest you had had to a home in months. Maybe even years.

The miles between you and the world grew, but so did the distance between you and the versions of yourselves you left behind. You had nothing to offer each other apart from company, and nothing to lose from spending your days with one another. 

It became easy, almost too easy. Long stretches of road, music humming through the truck's radio, filling the space between the two of you. Conversations about nothing that meant everything — favorite songs, old memories that still hurt, silly stories from childhood, tragedies that were so massive it became intrinsically hilarious to you both, Stories you told in the dead of night when the world felt softer, more forgiving. 

Lee felt true in a way no other had. His company was comfortable, natural. A genuine friend that you could tease, maybe even flirt with a little when the mood struck. Nothing serious you would say. All in good fun, teenagers cruising through the Midwestern countryside.

It felt like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. The truck was a much better bed than the thin blanket you had relied on since you left the house you grew up in. You’d sleep in the backseat, sometimes curled up in the trunk with blankets piled up like a nest. On rare occasions, when exhaustion weighed you both down, you’d spring for a cheap motel, a temporary reprieve from the road.

The more you got to know Lee, the more that sense you had gotten about him on the night you met grew. Something was different about him, something you could taste on your tongue, a kind of unspoken understanding that simmered beneath the surface. You couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something in Lee that reminded you of someone else. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the sharp look in his eyes – it was the way he held himself, the way he watched people, sizing them up like he knew more about them than they’d ever want to know.

You had known someone like that before.

Your uncle.

Your family never talked about him, not after he disappeared, but you remembered the day it happened like a movie in your mind. The last time you saw him. He had come to visit, just passing through, or so he said. You were young, but not young enough to forget the blood that stained his clothes, how his face was drawn, pale, like he was barely holding it together. How his teeth were off-white in a way you had never seen before. He had brushed it off when you asked him, saying he had gotten into a fight, nothing serious, but the way he smelled… it stuck with you.

The metallic tang of blood, the way it clung to him even after he cleaned up, how his eyes seemed wild and unfocused in the dim light of the kitchen. You could never explain it to someone without sounding insane. But yet somehow, you knew what he was. You knew.

Your parents didn’t say much about it then. They just watched him with wary eyes, their faces tight with something close to fear, though they never admitted it. When he left, they didn’t even look at that, and once he was gone they removed all photographs. They never mention him again, not even when you asked. It was like he had never existed. Like he had never even been part of the family.

You never met someone like him again, someone you could feel deep in your bones.

Until Lee. The Lee you looked at as he drove nonchalantly down roads, almost too relaxed to be sitting in a driver’s seat. He made all those pieces you had tucked away begin to slot together, forming a picture that put words to your instincts. The way your uncle had looked that night, the way your own body sometimes seemed to hum with something restless, it was all there, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You did not bring it up to him, it never seemed natural. And honestly, you didn’t feel the need to. For some reason, the idea of it all didn’t bother you. Lee was just Lee still, your road companion.

One night, you and Lee had parked the truck somewhere far off the main road, the stars stretched out like a tapestry above you. It was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, where the darkness seemed deeper, more honest. You were lying on a blanket in the bed of the truck, side by side, the silence between you comfortable but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

The two of you had shared a lot already, more than you thought you had in you to share. He was still technically a strange man to you, it had not yet been a month. Still, you felt a bond with him you could not explain. His presence brought you peace in a world too large for you to grasp.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his fingers twitched restlessly by his side, like he was working through something in his head. Lee had been quieter than usual lately, more thoughtful, more distant. You didn’t push him – he was always like that, a little withdrawn when he was trying to sort through whatever was going on in his head. But tonight, it felt different. More pointed.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you… know?"

The question caught you off guard. It was so vague, so quiet, that for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were still fixed on the stars above, his expression unreadable in the dim light. There was something in his tone, though. Cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you would answer. Like he was afraid to hear it.

You swallowed, your heart picking up speed. "Know what?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he shifted slightly, still not looking at you. It seemed like he had hoped you would not ask. He was always careful, always measured with his words, but this time, you could tell he was holding something back. He exhaled slowly, and then, without turning his head, he said it again, this time more direct.

"About me. About what I am."

There was no uncertainty in you about what he was referring to. There it was, the thing you had been skirting around, the thing neither of you had spoken aloud. You knew, deep down, that this conversation had been coming for a while, with all the time you spent together, but now that it was here, the weight of it felt like a stone settling in your chest.

Your mind raced, memories of your uncle flashing through your thoughts, the blood on his hands, the way your parents had never spoken about him again. The way it all lingered in you like electricity. 

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet. "Yeah. I know."

Lee didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body seemed to coil like a spring, ready to snap. His fingers drummed lightly against the truck bed, a habit he had when he was nervous, though he’d never admit it. 

You wondered how he knew to ask you, if he had seen it in your eyes. You guessed you could ask him. But this moment hung in the air between you with such fragility. It felt like something had shifted irreversibly between you, and you were not yet certain if it was a good thing or not.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. "And you… don’t care? Or what? You don’t wanna leave?"

You turned to him fully, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face. The starlight cast shadows over his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, burning with something raw, something vulnerable he never let anyone else see. They were straining to remain trained on the sky.

"I’m not scared of you, Lee," you said softly, your voice steady but firm. "Or of it. I know who you are. And I know you’re a good person."

Lee’s breath hitched, just for a moment, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His eyes finally flickered toward you, the walls he kept up so carefully starting to crack. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stared at you, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes, none of them quite making it out.

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower when he finally spoke. "You don’t even know what I’ve done."

"I don’t need to," you said, your gaze locked on his. "I know you. I’ve been with you this long, and I think I have known all along. And I’m still here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. But when you didn’t, when you just kept looking at him like none of it scared you, like you weren’t about to run, something in him seemed to shift. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Why are you not afraid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, almost wanting to laugh. “You’re just Lee to me.”

Lee looked away again, his eyes tracing the stars, but his mind was far from the night sky. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with tension. It felt lighter. Like a weight had been lifted, even if he wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You settled back in beside him, arm grazing his. Comfortable. 

For the first time in a long while, Lee let himself relax. He was always aloof, physically all over the place, but his mind remained alert. Now, he let it fall onto the pillow your words provided. He realized then, though he didn’t say it out loud, that the tightness in his chest, the thing he had been fighting for weeks, it wasn’t just nothing. He didn’t want to think the word, let alone say it. It had crept in slowly, so quietly that he hadn’t noticed it until it was staring him in the face. 

Love didn’t feel safe to him. Love was complicated, messy. Dangerous, even. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him, telling him you weren’t afraid, telling him you knew who he was and that it didn’t matter. That you’d stay.

It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Not yet.

He turned back to you, his eyes softer now, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re really not gonna leave, huh?"

You laughed a little at how he shared it like a revelation, shaking your head. "Nope. You’re stuck with me."

Lee let out a breathy laugh, a sound that seemed to ease the last bit of tension between you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since he met you, he felt something close to hope. He didn’t say it, but in that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

"I could get used to that," he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

And as the two of you sat there, side by side under the stars, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, solidified. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t afraid. And for Lee, that was enough.

You fell asleep side by side, just you and the stars.

***

Nights passed like that, over weeks and months, with you and him slowly gravitating closer. 

Whether it be in the seats of the truck or the trunk, you always slept near each other. Originally you slept on either side of the trunk, or in each your seat, but as you spent most of your nights talking until either one of you passed out, it just felt natural to be close by.

Waking up with your limbs accidentally having gotten entangled, faces closer than you ever would be when conscious became a norm. The first time it happened, Lee woke first, but did not move until you woke, revelling in the touch of your body against his. Eyes studying your calm face, fully convinced this would be his only opportunity to be this close to you. When you came to, he pretended your movements woke him.

Neither of you spoke of it. There was no need to. Some things didn’t need words.

The more you got used to waking up entangled, the more intimate it became. You would find yourself laying on top of Lee’s chest, or his face would be tucked into the crook of your neck. Once this started happening, you both happened to begin to prefer sleeping in the trunk.

Despite your increasing comfort with each other, the nights were never completely peaceful. Sometimes you would wake up to find him gone, wandering somewhere. It was usually in the aftermath of a nightmare, but you also knew that he sometimes had other reasons for being gone.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the truck’s trunk feeling too empty, too cold. Instinctively, your hand reached over the space where Lee usually lay beside you, but all you felt was the crumpled fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t there. For a few seconds, you blinked in the darkness, groggy, your mind slow to catch up with the situation. The air felt wrong, too still, too quiet. That was when you noticed the faint sounds of movement just beyond the trees, down near the creek.

When possible, you two tried to park near a body of water, so you had the opportunity to wash up. You had also mentioned to Lee how relaxing you found lakes, and he started planning his routes around it after that.

You could hear heavy breathing and splashing by the water. Without thinking, you slipped out of the trunk, pulling on one of Lee’s hoodies he had discarded beside your blankets, and you quietly padded down toward the sounds. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, and that was when you saw him.

Lee was crouched near the edge of the creek, his shoulders tense, his hands dipped in the water. The pale light from the moon caught on his skin, but more than that, it illuminated the dark smudges smeared across his neck and arms. Blood.

He had not heard you yet, too focused on what he was doing – trying to scrub the blood away with frantic, almost desperate movements. He was shaking, his body too tense, like he was on the verge of unraveling. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, the material soaked in water and blood. His hair, usually a mess of carefully maintained chaos, stuck to his forehead in sweat-soaked strands.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just watched him, heart aching at how broken he looked. It wasn’t like the Lee you were used to. This wasn’t the confident, quippy guy who could brush off anything with a smirk. No, this was the other side of him, the side he didn’t let you see. The one that carried all the weight of what he did, of who he was. The one that bled in more ways than just physically.

“Lee?” Your voice was soft, careful. You didn’t want to startle him, but you couldn’t just stand there, watching him like this.

He froze for a moment, his hands stilling in the water. He didn’t look up at you right away, just stared down at his own reflection rippling in the creek. “Go back to the truck,” he said, his voice rough, a little shaky. “I’m fine.”

But you could hear it. He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

A closer look at where he was sitting, you could see that he wasn’t fine physically either, his torn shirt revealing scratches across his upper body, bruises already forming along his arms in the moonlight. Whoever encountered your Lee tonight had put up a fight.

You ignored him, stepping closer, your bare feet sinking into the wet grass near the water’s edge. “You’re hurt.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally looking up at you. His face was pale, a little gaunt under the moonlight. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of something unreadable, were glassy. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the water. “I’m just cleaning up.”

But you could see the way his hands trembled, how his movements were too rough, too quick, like he was trying to scrub the guilt away more than the blood. You stepped closer until you were beside him, crouching down at his level.

“Lee, look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw tightened, and he kept scrubbing, the water turning pink as it mixed with the blood on his skin. 

"Lee," you said again, firmer this time, reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

He finally stopped, his hands hovering just above the surface of the water, but still wouldn’t look at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he muttered, voice raw. “You weren’t supposed to—” He cut himself off, his shoulders hunching forward like he was folding into himself. “Shit.”

"What is wrong with me seeing this?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of a bruise forming along his arm. "Why do you have to fix it yourself?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at the water. "Because you don’t need to deal with this. With me. You didn’t sign up for… any of this." His voice wavered at the edges, frustration mixing with exhaustion.

You shook your head, biting back the sting in your own chest. "You think I care about blood? About this? I knew what I was getting into, I told you so. If you’re hurt, I want to help."

He finally looked at you then, his expression flickering with something like disbelief. “You shouldn’t have to… see me like this. Like some… fuckin’ monster. No, no.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said firmly, and you didn’t waver. You tightened your grip on his forearm. You could see the bruises, the blood streaking down his neck in shapes that looked like somebody had scratched at him, put up a fight. You saw the way he clenched his jaw like he was holding everything in, trying not to crack open. You saw the way his eyes flickered with guilt, shame, like he couldn’t stand himself in that moment. The same boy that laughed with you in the car, who played jokes on strangers. Who usually tried to seem totally content with this lifestyle of his.

"Yes, I am," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You don’t… understand what it’s like. To have to do this, to –"

"I don’t have to understand everything," you cut him off, your hand sliding up to his neck, gently brushing through his damp hair. "But I know you. And I know you don’t have to do this alone. That is my choice, and I choose to be here for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment like he was trying to pull himself together. But when he opened them again, you saw the vulnerability in them, the rawness that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He was struggling, fighting to keep himself together, to not fall apart in front of you.

You sat down beside him fully now, your knees brushing his, your hand still resting at the back of his neck. “Let me help.”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the offer, but he was too tired to resist for long. Slowly, he nodded, his body slumping in defeat as he let you take over.

You helped him take of his torn t-shirt, leaving him bare to reflect the moonlight, and dipped it into the creek. The cold water soaking through the fabric as you carefully brought it back up to his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood from his face, his arms. He winced slightly when you dabbed at a few deeper cuts near his ribs, but he didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said quietly, your eyes focused on cleaning him up. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Lee didn’t respond right away. He just watched you, his eyes following the way you moved, the way your touch was soft, careful. He let out a low breath, something like relief mixing with the exhaustion in his voice. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Why?” You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re hurt? Or because you’re human?”

He laughed roughly at that, shaking his head slightly. “I haven’t felt human in a long time.”

You paused, your hand stilling for a moment before you continued cleaning the blood from his neck. “You feel human to me.”

He went quiet again, his eyes studying you, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the mess of him. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the creek as you worked, the soft splash of water as you wrung out the bloody fabric.

“He-” Lee began but his voice broke. You were patient, continuing to tend to him as he seemed to wrestle with whether to continue the sentence. Eventually: “He was a bad guy. I always try to make sure they are.”

It broke your heart to hear the pleading undertone of what he was saying. What he was trying to convey to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what the best response was, but you settled on telling him you believed him.

When you were done, you leaned back slightly, your hands resting on your thighs as you looked him over. He still had some bruises that would take time to heal, but most of the blood was gone, his skin clean again under the moonlight. None of his scratches were in need of any serious medical intervention, but you made a mental note to stop by a pharmacy in the morning regardless.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Better.”

Lee stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

You closed your eyes, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just stayed there, eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours. His breath slowly steadying as he let himself lean on you, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled slightly, your hand moving to the back of his neck again, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “I told you. You’re not alone.”

“Not alone,” he mumbled and wiggled his forehead against yours briefly before pulling back and getting up.

He stretched a hand out to you, ready to pull you back with him to the truck.

***

A few states had ended up in your rearview mirror since you turned that creek pink and your hearts slightly softer. The atmosphere between you had shifted yet again, growing deeper and deeper each time. There was no acknowledgement of it, but there didn’t need to be. In the unspokeness, you could grow bolder. The touches, the glances, they took up more and more space in your increasingly small truck. You would yet again wake up in each other’s arms, and it no longer felt accidental.

It was the small things, too. The way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, or how he let his fingers linger a moment longer when you passed him something. The way your legs would press together in the truck when you shared the cramped front seat, neither of you moving away. Sometimes, when the truck was pulled off the road and you were both leaning against it, talking under the stars, his knee would bump against yours, and instead of pulling back, he let it stay there.

It felt like you were both waiting for something. The tension was not sharp, it was warm, almost inviting. You both knew what was next, but neither of you had made the move to cross that last, thin line.

You and Lee had spent the evening like you always did—driving, talking, letting the hours slip away into easy silences and the occasional laugh. Planning where to head to next. You had decided to drive to see the silliest places you could find, asking random strangers was the weirdest tourist attraction they have heard of is. On the list is Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard, the world largest ball of paint and a nuclear waste adventure trail. The night had come over you, and you ended up parked on the outskirts of a town, the lights from them illuminating you even in the dark. The two of you sat on the hood of the truck, your legs dangling off the edge, shoulders brushing.

He was quieter tonight. You could sense it in the way his gaze kept drifting over to you, then back to the stars. His hand rested on the metal beside you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm, like he was thinking through something he had not decided on yet. But it wasn’t the usual restlessness that seemed to rule Lee’s entire existence. This was something different. Something quieter.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who never shuts up.”

He huffed a laugh, his head tilting toward you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your eyes catching the faint light of the stars reflecting in his. It was moments like this that you felt the pull most strongly – the way his face softened when he wasn’t trying to keep his guard up, the way he let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else. There was something magnetic about Lee when he wasn’t hiding. It made you want to keep his doors open, to take them off their hinges.

His hand shifted, almost imperceptibly, his fingers brushing against yours on the deck of the trunk. It was barely a touch, just the faintest hint of skin against skin, but you felt it like a jolt, a reminder of how close you both were. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. 

The silence stretched between you again, thick with something unspoken. It struck you how much serenity you felt in your soul in the silences with him, even when there was something brewing in it. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of him, the way his breath had slowed, his body still as if he was waiting for something.

Your fingers twitched, brushing against his again, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. You turned your hand over, palm up, an invitation as much as it was a question. Lee glanced down at your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, like he had so many times before. But instead, his fingers curled slowly around yours, his grip gentle but sure, and your breath caught in your throat.

Neither of you spoke. The understanding that had hung between you for weeks was right there, all you had to do was lean into it.

“Lee,” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking. You liked having his name in your mouth. 

He turned his body towards you at his name, shifting closer, eyes locked on yours. You could see the hesitation there, the way his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still fighting something inside himself, still holding back.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

You leaned in, closing the space between you before you could second-guess yourself, your lips brushing his softly, testing. Just once, enough to give him an out, enough to say I’m here, if you are.

For a moment, nothing happened. Lee stayed perfectly still against you, his breath caught, his fingers tightening around yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in further, his lips pressing back against yours, soft and warm. Open mouthed, lovingly.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate like you might have imagined. It was careful, deliberate, like he was letting himself feel it for the first time, like he wanted to make sure it was real. His free hand came up, brushing lightly against your jaw, his fingers tracing the edge of your face, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You deepened the kiss further, savouring his touches, the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your hand glided up to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Slow but steady, the tension between you finally breaking in the gentlest way possible. It was like everything that had been building between you – every touch, every glance, every unspoken word – was spilling into that moment, into the way his lips moved against yours, into the way he held you like you were the only thing to hold.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lee’s eyes were still closed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the moment, his lips parted, trying to catch his breath.

You stayed like that for a while, it didn’t matter how long. Few things mattered, you had found. Lee did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they were unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was here, with you, in whatever this was.

He whispered your name, a late response.

You hummed with a smile, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. No words were needed. There were none that could be said, not now, not yet. 

Lee chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like relief than anything else. He slid down from leaning against the truck, to laying on the deck, still not letting go of your hand. You followed suit, for the first time purposefully laying your body half on top of his, head resting on his chest. 

No more waiting.

There was a whole civilisation right before you, just out of reach, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the next destination. You were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

***

Once that barrier was breached, you and Lee found yourself stealing kisses of varying intensity more often than not. There was no label on the two of you, with your pasts you both were guarded from being the first to admit the intensity behind your actions. Yet, the need to be close was not dissipating as the days passed, if anything it only grew the more of a taste you got for each other.

One night, you found yourselves at a dive bar on the edge of some no-name town. The music thumped through the walls, too loud and too fast, but it matched the energy buzzing between you and Lee. The dim lights made everything look a little hazy, like the whole world was moving in slow motion. Lee leaned against the bar, his back to the crowd, his eyes fixed on you as you stood close to him, sipping on a cheap cider that barely tasted like anything. He hadn’t drank much tonight, which made the way he was looking at you feel even more intense.

There was something magnetic about him, the way he carried himself, the way his arm seemed to naturally find its way around your shoulders when in public, protective and possessive without being overbearing. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, and you leaned into it, enjoying the comfort of his touch. 

It was late, and the air between you was only magnifying your need for him, his fingers barely touching yours on the bartop like he was daring you to pull him closer. He only moved them to order another round from the bartender, shooting you a wicked grin.

“Thoughts?” he asked you as he handed you your new drink.

“This place isn’t too bad. The guy at the bar isn’t either.” The smile you flashed him was teasing and he all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both alright.”

You were about to make some quip about his soft spot for dive bars when a figure caught your eye, and you tensed. A guy had sidled up to the bar a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you, too interested, too familiar. You glanced at Lee, but he was already clocking the guy, his body going still beside you, though his expression didn’t change.

The guy stumbled closer, his drink sloshing in his hand. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” he slurred, his gaze flicking between you and Lee with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from the guy. His look could draw blood, but his voice stayed calm, almost flat. “We were.”

The guy either didn’t notice your discomfort and Lee’s adverse stance, or he just didn’t care. He leaned in a little closer, still grinning like this was all a joke. “Come on, man. Just trying to talk to her.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Lee shifted, his arm moving in one fluid motion to slide around your waist, pulling you against him in a way that felt natural, like he was drawing a line in the sand. “She’s not interested,” he said, voice low and steady, but you could feel the warning beneath the surface.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lee’s calm intensity, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, man, no need to get all protective. Just having fun.”

Lee kept staring him down, his grip on you tight, steadying you as much as he was putting space between you and the guy. “Well, you’re done,” he said, still in that same measured tone, like he wasn’t giving the guy a choice in the matter. “Go back to your drink.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a muttered, “Alright, alright. Chill.” Slunking back into the crowd, he cast a few annoyed glances over his shoulder, but lacked the bravery to follow up on his annoyance.

Lee’s body was still taut with that lingering tension, eyes scanning the room again before he finally let out a breath. He didn’t pull away from you though, his hand resting on your hip as if he needed the contact to remind himself that you were alright.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now as he finally looked down at you, concern flickering behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to take in what just happened and how swiftly Lee handled it. Never before have you gotten away from a situation with a creepy man so fast. 

“Are you?” you eventually asked, looking up to see his jaw still slightly clenched.

He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down to meet your eyes. "Yeah. Just don’t like guys like that."

You smiled a little, leaning into him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. "I noticed."

His lips quirked into a small grin, and it felt easy again, back to just the two of you, even in this crowded bar. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your skin now that you stood so close.

“Think so.” You finished your drink and without another word, he took your hand, leading you out into the cool night air. 

The bar’s noise faded into the background as the two of you walked back to the truck, your fingers still intertwined with his. There was something about the way he was holding your hand that made your heart race. It was tighter than normal, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You stopped by the passenger side door and Lee immediatley closed the gap between you, pressing you gently against the side of the truck. His hands rested on your hips, it was as if he had realised he could place them there now. When his gaze met yours, his eyes flickered with something dangerous, something raw.

"You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "I will always protect you. In any situation.”

You almost didn’t know what to say. It was so simple, yet he poured so much emotion into those words, and you felt them entirely.

“I do know,” you whispered. “I have never felt safety like this before.” The last part felt like a confession more than an answer. 

Lee’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against yours, leaning more of his body against yours, so you were flush between him and the metal of the car.

“I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. You’ve made it difficult.” Lee looked into your eyes as he said it, searching your face for a reaction. His pupils were wide, gaze intense.

You felt a shiver run through you at his words, the heat between you burning brighter. "Then stop trying."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you, one hand sliding up to grip your face while the other remained held your hips tighter, closer. His kisses were always languid, open-mouthed and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair and pulling at it as you kissed him back with equal intensity, your body arching against his. His mouth was warm and demanding, and when he kissed you, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving up under your shirt, the cool air mixing with the heat of his touch. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your neck, each kiss igniting sparks along your skin. You gasped softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers travelling to dig into the skin of his back

"God," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless, like he could barely control himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, merging under the stars, the truck a silent witness to the way your bodies moved together, the way you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your skin. He was beginning to become your Lee.

***

Living with Lee changed you in many ways, but the most important was that for the first time in your life, you felt free. Whether it was the boy’s attitude or his attentiveness to you, or the roads that stretched for miles like ink on paper, you settled into your own body and existence. You owned yourself and your destiny in a way you didn’t think possible.

As you shared more of yourselves with each other, you realised just how repressed you had been, just how much of you had been shut off. In your newfound safety in Lee, you could open up.

Things long locked away were stirring within you. Some painful, some exciting. And some, you didn’t have the words to describe yet.

For the time being, you were on a quest to a museum of the history of cheese that an old lady at a café had been raving to you about. It was another state over, but this sweet woman insisted it was worth it, and as you were the ones who asked her about a recommendation, you felt it only right to trust her word.

On the way there, you were stopping in a typical shittown, the kind where nothing really happens but somehow everyone knows everyone else’s business. Craving excitement after a long day in the car with your feet in Lee’s lap, you asked him to go looking through town for something to do. There was a bonfire party that night, something thrown together by a group of locals, and you figured that would do.

 The fire crackled in the center of the gathering in the middle of the forest, the air heavy with smoke and alcohol. Lee’s arm was slung loosely around your shoulders as you walked through, scouting the place.

"You wanna stay long?" he asked, voice low in your ear.

You shook your head, leaning into him a little. "Nah. Let’s just see how it goes."

He nodded, but you could feel the tension in him, like he was always keeping one eye on the crowd. That protective streak ran deep in him, and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from.

The two of you settled down on a log by the fire, chatting with some locals and getting your kick out of listening to them drawl away about town drama. A man had been circling where you were sat, both you and Lee noticed, but he never approached.

Needing to get some water from the truck, you squeezed Lee’s leg and told him you’d be right back.

He let his arm fall from around you to let you up, but looked at you with concern. “Don’t be long.” You just smiled. He watched you go, his eyes lingering on you longer than you realized.

You were walking back with water in hand, still on the outskirts of the bonfire and shielded from view when you saw the man coming up towards you. He looked the exact same as every man who had been a bother to you since you began life on your own and your stomach soured.

"Hey," the guy’s voice was a slurred mix of alcohol and bravado, his grin too wide, too familiar. "Why’d you leave your pretty boy toy behind? Done with him and ready for me?"

Your skin prickled with unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m good. You should head back.”

He ignored you, stepping closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re vibing, right?"

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, and you jerked back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

The grin on his face faltered, replaced with something darker. “You’re just playing hard to get,” he muttered, his voice low and threatening now. "Girls like you always do."

“Back off!” you tried, but he took quick steps toward you.

Your heart raced, and before you could step away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. You twisted, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was stronger than he looked. His other hand moved to his pocket, and when he pulled out the glint of a blade, panic surged through you.

"Stop –"

"You’re not going anywhere –"

What happened next was a blur—a clash of instincts, fear driving your body into overdrive. He lifted the knife towards your throat, likely to threathen and not harm in the moment, but you could not wait to see how that would turn out. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your hands lashed out, grabbing his wrist with one and prying the knife away with another. Suddenly the blade was in your hand, and when he threw himself on top of you, you shoved him off with one hand and used the knife with the other. 

It found its home in his neck.

You scrambled away, not yet realising what had just happened. At your hands. You stared at him in shock where he laid in front of you, the sounds sickening, wet gurgle as his throat opened up. Blood poured out in a thick stream, hot and fast, soaking his shirt.

In shock and desperation, you grabbed at the wound as if to counteract what you had just done, but he took that opportunity to grab you by the hair and neck, attempting to choke you. Fear surged through you once more, but his once-hard grip was already weakening and you could wrestle free.

By the time you recovered and looked up, the life had drained from his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing and the pulse in your head.

You could smell the blood. On your hands, on his clothes, still oozing from his wound. It was dizzying, the world becoming distant as you were trapped inside this bubble that consisted of the two of you. You and the corpse.

You realised you had never seen a corpse before, not in person. Smelling fresh blood was different from smelling it once it had harkened on Lee’s skin. Not even the thought of Lee could drag you out of the state you were slowly being pulled into.

Without fully acknowledging your movements, you moved back towards the man, the one who had wished you dead and died by his own knife. Your eyes were fixated on his wound, something building inside of you at a rapid speed. A coil built in your stomach, one you had known was there for essentially forever, without the ability to give it a name.

It snapped. And as it did, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck.

Everything felt right, not the kind of comfortable right you had developed with Lee, it felt like your body was finally getting air after a long period of suffocation, it felt like water after a long run. It felt like a meal after having been starving.

Your face was buried further and further in the flesh, your mind completely void of all thoughts. Just your fingers and teeth, blood and bone. Feral, instinctive, lost in the hunger that just kept building, like it was never enough. 

"Shit."

A switch went off, and you were snapped back to reality. The smell of forest pine and moss, bonfire and smoke crept back in. As you slowly lifted your gaze, you saw him standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, his face pale in the moonlight. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time since you met him, you saw real shock on his face. Not fear exactly, but something close. Something you didn’t expect.

Horror.

“Lee…” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing into you like a wave. “Oh, God.”

Your eyes flashed back down and suddenly it was as if you realised you had a corpse at your feet. You scrambled backwards, breathing quickening, horrified and lost. You stared at your hands as tears were beginning to blur your vision, only worsened by how you couldn’t even see your skin’s colour through all the blood. Small curses kept spilling out past your lips as your eyes darted between the man, your hands and Lee.

“I– I didn’t mean to, I–” Your voice broke.

Lee took a step forward, his face still a mask of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the blood smeared across your skin. He’d always sensed something in you, always felt that you and him were the same in some way, but this… this was different. He hadn’t smelled it on you before. He had no idea.

“I didn’t– I don’t know what happened, I just–” You couldn’t make sense of it. Of anything. Your world was turned upside down.

“Hey.” Lee had made his way over to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. His voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, low and firm but not harsh. He closed the distance between you grabbing your arm, pulling you up from the ground. His grip was steady, but there was urgency in it now. “We gotta go.”

You blinked at him, still in shock, the reality of what you’d done slowly settling in. “But –”

“I know, I know, okay?” He pulled on a piece of hair plastered to your skin by blood, tucking it behind your hair. “I get it. But we gotta go. Now.” His voice cut through your haze of confusion and guilt. He didn’t wait for you to respond, didn’t give you the chance to argue. He grabbed you by the waist, practically lifting you off your feet as he dragged you away from the body and into the trees.

The world around you blurred as he pulled you through the forest, his grip firm, unyielding. The pounding in your head drowned out everything else– the sound of the party, the crackle of the bonfire, the smell of blood still clinging to you. All you could think about was what you had just done. What it meant. What you were.

By the time you reached the truck, you were shaking, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Lee shoved you into the passenger seat, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you might bolt. He climbed in beside you, slamming the door shut, his face hard and unreadable as he started the engine.

For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the road, the world outside the truck a blur of dark trees and empty stretches of highway. Lee didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his grip tight on the wheel. Mind racing almost as fast as the car, as he sped down the highway, determined to get as far away from the scene as possible. You sat beside him, leaning your head on the dashboard in front of you as you tried to gather yourself. Your hands still trembling, blood still drying on your skin. 

You could barely breathe, the walls of the truck closing in around you. The reality of what you had done hit you again, harder this time. You had killed someone. Eaten someone.

You choked on a sob, tears already streaking the blood on your face. Your chest was tightening, your vision blurring. “Lee, I–”

There was no way for you to finish the sentence.

With your eyes clenched shut, hidden away, making yourself as small as possible in your seat, you couldn’t see the pained look he gave you. He needed to protect you by putting distance between you and the crime. But all he wanted was to pull you close.

“It’s okay. I will stop as soon as I can. It’s okay.” 

Eventually he caught eye of a discreet sideroad and veered the truck down it as fast as possible. He slammed on the brakes, parking the car on a plot of grass by a river. The engine cut off, leaving the night in a sudden, heavy silence. In the blink of an eye, Lee was out of the truck, opening your door to pull you out as well. You were too out of it, not processing anything that was happening. He ended up scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style down to the riverside. 

One bloody bride that is.

He sat you down by the water, his hands still firm on your arms, not giving you room to break down yet. "Sit here." His voice was softer now, but still edged with urgency. He knelt beside you, shrugging off his jacket and dipping it into the water. The cold night air hit your skin, but you barely felt it, still lost in the haze of panic.

You sat there, frozen, as he started to clean the blood off your hands, your arms, your face, as carefully as he could when hurrying. His touch was careful, deliberate, the way it had been when you first found him at the creek, battered and trying to clean himself up. But there was something different this time, something softer, more protective, like he wasn’t just cleaning the blood away, but trying to take some of the weight of it with him. Like he was saying, You don’t have to carry this alone. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused entirely on you, like he was trying to fix you, trying to put you back together piece by piece.

“Lee,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Am I–?” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He paused, his hands stilling for just a second before he looked up at you. His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. He reached up with a wet hand, brushing over your cheek and simultaneously cleaning some blood off. "You don’t have to be scared of it," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Or of me."

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes. "I don’t understand."

“I’m here.” His fingers remained on your face, wiping away the tears before they could fall too far. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?”

You gave a faint nod. 

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. He kept trying to get as much blood as possible off you, making you presentable again both in case someone saw you and to help you feel normal again. He didn’t try to explain it, didn’t try to rationalize it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He attacked me, I protected myself and then, then–”

“I know,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

Lee made sure your face and hands were free from blood, and then he helped you out of your stained sweater, leaving you in just your top underneath. He discarded it quick and turned back to you, grabbing your shaking hands.

“We need to move again, sweetheart” he said, voice low but certain. “We can’t stay too close.”

He stood up, reaching out to pull you up with him. His movements were quiet, purposeful. He didn’t rush you, but there was a tension in the air now, like he was calculating the next move. You could tell his mind was already working ahead, mapping out the quickest way to get you both far from the scene, far from the mess you left behind.

Your legs wobbled as you stood, your body still weak from the adrenaline crashing out of your system, but Lee’s grip on you was firm, guiding you back toward the truck. He opened the passenger door, helping you in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He tentatively took your hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel, rubbing circles on it with his thumb as a silent comfort. The truck rumbled to life beneath you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the engine, drowning out the thoughts you didn’t want to face.

"I didn’t know it would feel like this," you whispered once you were back on the road, your voice shaking. "I never… I didn’t think I’d ever be like this."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the road, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was something distant in it, like he was pulling from his own memories. "First time I fed… I couldn’t stop shaking afterward. Not ‘cause of the blood. It was the way it felt. Right and wrong all at once. Like it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but my body just didn’t care."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you in a way that made your chest tighten. It was exactly how you felt – the rush of power, the satisfaction of feeding, mixed with the horror of what you had done. You had never wanted this, but it was like your body had decided for you.

"I didn’t want to stop," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t even think about it. I just… gave in."

Lee turned to you, his eyes soft but serious, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his own guilt mirrored in his expression. "That’s what it does. That’s what the hunger is." He paused, his jaw clenching briefly before he continued. "It takes over. And once it does… it’s like you don’t have a choice anymore. You just need."

You shivered, wrapping an arm around your stomach, trying to shake off the phantom feeling of the blood on your skin, the taste of it still faint on your lips. "I’m going to need it now,” you said, the realisation setting in. “How do I handle that?”

He exhaled slowly, and you saw the streetlights reflected in his eyes as they grew somewhat glossy. "You learn. Little by little. You get to know the hunger, learn how to control it instead of letting it control you. I will help you with it. You won’t do it alone.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, and you turned away, trying to hide your face. "I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

He remained quiet, just held your hand tighter. 

For a long while, you just sat there, letting the silence and the weight of his words wash over you. The night felt vast around you, you realised now that Lee had rolled down the windows for you. Likely to help you breathe better. You should have known Lee would understand, because of course he would. Yet, there had been fear that he would be angry, disgusted. He wasn’t, not even a little bit. If anything, he was calm. Steady. Like this wasn’t something that could break you.

He built a little bit of confidence you, even as you felt your insides caving in.

The road stretched out ahead of you in silence, the dark trees a blur outside the windows. Lee was counting the miles until it would be safe to stop for the night, just a little bit longer. The truck was filled by spiraling thoughts from you both.

Lee had to stop himself from going down a rabbithole of blaming himself. Thinking that he influenced you, that maybe, if you hadn’t met him you never would have discovered this part of you. He wanted to hate himself, he wanted to break down, but with every glance over at you he knew he couldn’t. Your feelings were what mattered tonight. He knew he needed to keep it together to guide you through it. 

You had been crying on and off for the past hour, struggling with too many emotions at once. To process the assault and the intense fear you felt. Guilt consumed you, but not necessarily for killing the man, as you knew you had to, but then you felt guilty about your lack of guilt, and it was a never ending spiral. You felt horrible about feeding on him, about the discovery that you were an eater. When it was Lee it didn’t bother you, because, as you had come to realise, you just loved him. You know he is good. But you? That one was harder.

Then, your mind went to more practical matters. You had killed someone, feasted upon their body and then abandoned it. There were so many layers of illegal in those actions, and a new kind of fear and panic grabbed you.

Lee had seen these emotions develop in his peripheral, subconsciously speeding a bit faster, looking for somewhere safe to stop.

Your chest began to tighten, the panic from earlier threatening to bubble up. “Lee…” Your voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “What if someone finds out?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable. “They won’t.”

“But–”

“We’re not going back. Not to that town, not anywhere near it.” His voice was firm, cutting through your panic with the same intensity he had used earlier. “By the time they realize anything, we’ll be long gone. We’re already long gone.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they didn’t settle the storm in your chest. You squeezed your hands together, spotting some leftover blood around your cuticle. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air in the truck was too thick, too stifling. The man’s corpse was laying on top of your lungs and you were suffocating.

“Lee… I…” You gasped, scratching at your skin, your vision starting to blur. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt, the horror of what you’d done.

He called your name, but you couldn’t register anything anymore.

The truck swerved again as Lee pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulled up to a small clearing, hidden behind a stretch of trees. An answered prayer. 

He immediatley turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Hey. Hey, breathe. Sweetheart, I think you’re having a panic attack."

You tried to speak, but your words got caught and you were doubling over in the space that felt more and more confining.

In a swift motion, Lee had pulled you over the console and into his lap, opening the door beside him to let in as much air as possible. He held you securely, tight grip meant to ground you as he tried to talk you down.

With a hand on your cheek, he made you meet his eyes. "Look at me. You gotta breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

You tried, but the panic had taken hold, your mind spiraling out of control. "I killed him. I killed him, and–"

"I know," Lee cut you off, his voice soft but firm. "You did. But it’s fine. It is fine, you are fine. I know. But you’re gonna be okay. You’re not in danger. Just breathe. Please breathe."

His words didn’t allow for you to argue, quelling your disagreements before you could make them. He cupped your face, stroking his thumb along your jaw, and exaggerated his breathing so you could follow it. In and out. He was so close, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, all you could focus on was him. He was pulling you back from the edge.

"Breathe," he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "That’s all you need to do right now."

You closed your eyes, following his lead, trying to pull air into your lungs the way he told you. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly, painfully, the tightness in your heart began to ease, your breath coming in shaky but more controlled gasps.

When you opened your eyes again, Lee was still watching you, his hand still gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. "There you go." His voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, your body still trembling but no longer on the verge of breaking. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice fragile and raw.

Lee shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had done something wrong, something unforgivable, but the way he was looking at you – like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t some monster, made the words die in your throat.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "I always got you. You’re good."

The weight of his words, the certainty in them, settled deep in your chest, pushing back the panic, the fear. You weren’t alone in this. You had Lee. You always had Lee.

You stayed like that for a while, just sitting in his lap in the truck, your breath finally steadying as the night stretched out around you. You didn’t notice how hard you were holding onto Lee, clutching his shirt and even some skin, but he didn’t say anything either. He just stayed beside you, his hands never leaving you, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge every time the panic threatened to take over again.

You breathed together. Through it all.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure. "Let’s get settled down, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but follow his lead. Lee helped you out of the seat, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you down. He went around the truck, gathering the blankets from the backseat, more than he would usually grab, and set up your usual makeshift bed in the trunk as quickly as possible.

Together, you climbed into the softness he had created just for you. It felt odd to do something so familiar when it felt like everything had changed. Lee had not, still watching you, as he leaned back against the cab of the truck. You pulled on one of his sweaters, settling in beside him. He tangled your feet together and grabbed your hand, but didn’t initiate more than that, expectantly waiting for you to process your thoughts out loud with him.

Your eyes were slightly glossy again when you whispered, "Thank you."

He shook his head, immediately softening. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," you whispered, your voice catching. "You didn’t have to do any of this. And you did."

Lee’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants. "Of course," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re stuck with me, remember?"

A small, broken laugh escaped you, something warm flickering in your chest. You looked up at him, tears blurring your vision, but there was a kind of quiet relief there, too. Lee’s gaze was steady, unwavering, like no matter what had happened, no matter how far you had fallen, he was there to pull you back.

"Lee…" you started, but the words caught in your throat, too many emotions swirling inside you to put into words.

He seemed to understand anyway. Without saying anything, he angled himself more towards you, his forehead resting against yours. The closeness, the way his body pressed gently into yours everywhere, was enough to calm the last of your racing thoughts. You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching up to gently hold his face, your fingers brushing through his hair.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, your breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the night air. "You’re safe."

Something in his voice, the way he said it, made your heart clench. He had never said it out loud, but you knew. He tipped your chin up, meeting your lips with a searing kiss, one that felt like promise. 

It felt like forever before he pulled away, far enough to be able to see your eyes, searching your face for more hurt to quench. You could see his bottom lip quivering slightly before he said it.

"I love you.” 

Life stilled in the small clearing, and the weight of the past year came tumbling down on you. All you had done, all that had changed. How painful it had all been. How worth it it all was, to be sitting here in this boy’s arms now.

You took him in, your breath shaky. His words hung in the air between you, raw and real in a way that made your pulse race. 

He smiled, understanding your reaction. His forehead went back to yours, his hands cradling your face gently, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. There was nothing aloof about him now. He was all here, in this moment, focused on you like nothing else mattered. "I'm serious," he murmured, his voice soft, the vulnerability in it something you'd never heard before. "I love you."

Your throat tightened, grappling with the weight of it all. "Still?" you whispered, your voice trembling. 

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your lips. "You think this scares me? You think any of this changes how I feel about you?" His gaze was intense, a burning passion that steadied you, even as your heart threatened to tear itself apart. "You’re still you. This doesn’t make you someone else. So, yeah. Still. Always."

Your heart soared, a flood of emotions you hadn’t expected surging to the surface. You kissed him again, slowly, just lips pressed against lips as you tried to calm yourself.  "I don’t know what life looks like for us now.”

"Then we’ll figure it out," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been another option. “Part of the fun, right?”

He pulled away just to kiss your forehead and temples, lingering there for almost a beat too long before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You're not alone in this. I’m not letting you go through it alone. Got it?"

You blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to spill over. The calm in his voice, the unwavering certainty in his eyes grounded you like no else. It felt impossible, but here he was, telling you that you weren’t lost, that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what happened.

"I need you, you know," he whispered against your cheek, kissing it once more. "I don’t think you get that."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. You clung to him. "I do," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I need you, Lee. Desperately."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then don’t overthink it." 

And before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, like every ounce of the feelings he couldn’t quite say were being poured into that moment. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to erase the space between you.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body pressing into his, craving the closeness, the connection. Everything else faded into the background, drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hands on your skin.

His lips left yours for just a moment, brushing against your jaw, then trailing down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch. "I’m not going anywhere," he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin. "You’ve got me. No matter what."

You couldn’t find the words, so you kissed him again, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him as though he was afraid to let go, as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

For a long moment, the world was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, and the quiet understanding that you were in this together. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead pressed to his, you let out a laugh, more from the relief of having him here than anything else. It made him give you a curios smile, just happy to see you regain some of your usual behavior.

 "So," you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, "are you gonna say it again, or what?"

He let out a low chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he said, his voice warm, no hesitation this time. "I love you. I’m not scared to say it, even if you make me say it a thousand more times."

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, but no less meaningful. "Because I love you too. And I’m not letting you go."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed you back, slow and lingering, like he wanted to memorize the feel of you against him. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

"We’ll figure this out," he promised softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. "Whatever happens, we will be fine. Together."

You nodded, your heart finally settling, a sense of calm washing over you. "Yeah. We will."

And with that, the two of you sank down into the blankets, the night quiet at last. Lee’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were real, that this moment was real. 

As you lay there, tangled together, the world felt a little less terrifying. You had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

This is a fandom related thing. I will say that right off the bat, but I needed a few extra opinions on this since it feels like I am alone on this.

AITA for killing off my OC in a group rp?

For some context, I (using the name Snow for myself) joined a group rp with some other people where we would come up with a plot together. Everyone would be using original characters (OCs) It was agreed that the things that happened would be voted on, but people were not allowed to control what other people did with their OCs. It is the whole "my oc, my rules" thing. For those who don't get it, it basically means that since the oc is yours, only you get to decide what happens to them.

To the story. I had plans I wanted to do with my OC. I wrote her to be someone who was secretly working for the villains and was only tricking the others into thinking she was their friend. The only other people who were aware of this were the moderators, and they had approved of it.

What was the problem then you may be wondering? Well the problem was that another member, I'll just call them Star, had said that they had gotten an emotional attachment to my OC. Which I personally found weird, so I typically tried not to be stuck alone with them.

When it came to reveal the plot twist with my oc, Star had a freak out upon finding out. They started crying and complaining that it wasn't right to do that and they could not picture "their" emotional support character doing that. The other members decided to comfort Star. They always sided with Star and acted like they were oh so special. The others were saying that this was all just a joke and that it wasn't actually going to happen. "It is just a joke right, Snow?" they had said.

And I replied with. "No. It's not a joke. My oc has been working with the villains the whole time."

Star's response was to have a meltdown over it, saying that I was out to hurt them and ruin their day. So I ended up getting a message from the moderators asking me to change my OC's backstory as to not upset Star further. They ended up telling Star that it would be changed to just having my OC be mind controlled the whole time.

This was not something I agreed with, but I pretended to play along begrudgingly. I hated that the group decided to treat my OC like she belonged to Star. But I played along and came up with my own idea. There was a plot point that came up in the rp that would have someone die off, so I took it as my opportunity to kill off my own OC. If I wasn't allowed to do what I had planned for her initially, then she wasn't going to stick around anymore.

After I killed her off, Star logged off and vanished for an entire 3 days. All the other members constantly messaged them to try and get a response from her, but they did not answer until they returned. When they logged on, they said that they had to a panic attack over what had happened and felt hurt that I would do that.

I just responded with "my oc, my rules. I quit this group." Then I quickly went through and deleted every little bit of information I had shared about my OC with that group before leaving their discord. After, I got a lot of messages from all the members, about sending the information so that Star could continue playing with my OC since she was their comfort character and it wasn't fair I was doing this to them especially after their panic attack. I said no and blocked everyone who had asked me that.

Sure I feel bad that they had a panic attack, but I felt betrayed that everyone else was willing to bend the rules for them and allow them to control my OC. Even if I no longer use said OC, I still wouldn't let them have her. This is still my property and I stand by the "my oc, my rules" thing.

So AITA for killing off my OC?

What are these acronyms?

[tastywormfood]

Ive tried to get my feelings about Moominvalley s4 into words, but im having a really hard time even accepting them. But ill try!

So here's my thoughts in Moominvalley s4.

Im 23 now and i remember being 12 - 15 figuring out my identity, and the only "representation" in mrdia being basically either "Bury your gays" trope or just queerbaiting. I grew up on a base level thinking i wasnt allowed to exist, and if i still dared to, tragedy would be my only birth right.

I believed i wasnt allowed to live a happy, soft AND queer life, cause no media i had seen had ever showed me that, that was a possibility.

Both the 90's Moomin series and Moominvalley 2019 are my comfort shows. I fall asleep to them at night, i listen to them like a podcast while im working or outside, they even calm my panic attacks. I collect cups, plushies, i collect the Comics and even some of the books.

I have 3 Moomin tattoos. This universe means a damn lot to me, and to thousands of ppl world wide.

As a queer person i find incredible comfort in Tove Janssons work, and you have to be a fool to be unable to see the way Snufkin and Moomintroll are written together.

I have been following this show since early 2020 and have watched interview to interview, ive listened to the podcast more times than i can count, and they knew what they were doing.

From the beginning of the show they deliberately wrote Snufkin and Moomin to be something more, they even confess In a BTS that their Moomin might like Snufkin more than Snorkmaiden. Even the podcast talked about it!! We are not crazy!!!

I feel incredibly gaslit by the entire situation, and suddenly im 14 again being told im reading too much into it.

Idk what happened inbetween S3 and 4, but it felt like all the love and care that came from the show, just disappeared?

Ignoring Snufmin for a second, every episode this season felt like a filler. It has no plot, followed up on nothing from the last seasons, and had an extreme amount of loose ends.

The former seasons, especially s1 and 2 has such amazing writting, character development and just a feeling of patience and of softness, i would watch it and think everything would be okay... But this season felt stripped of every inch of the care Tove Jansson put into her universe.

I want to talk a little about Moomintroll.

One of Moomins character Arcs is his want to grow up, its his need to be taken seriously and his need for independence and adventure. His need to step out of his dads shadow, and to be his own moomin! The character development he had built up through out the seasons, completely and utterly disappeared. There is no trace of anything in s4.

He is right back to where he started in s1, not being able to stand up for himself and say no, not having the confidence to go on adventures and right back to idealizing his dad. If anything this entire season felt like a prequal! Cause at least s1 Moomintroll wanted to learn, and was activily trying to change.

Moomintroll truly felt like a side character this season, i dont even think he has any important moments. Unless you count Comet in Moominvalley (which i dont), where all his independence has disappeared. Moominpapa literally has to push him out. He made one decision that eps, which was to float down the river instead of walking, which ended up being the wrong and slower way.

The regression Moomintroll went threw this season is heartbreaking, and thats not my Moomin.

Focusing for a bit on Snufkin, this season felt like a slap to the face.

They know that Snufkin is one of their most popular characters right? If not the most popular. If anything he is at least in the top 3, not only in Moominvalley but in the rest of the moominverse.

So why did this season feel like Snufkin erasure?

He was barely in it, and when he was all of that glow that normally radiats from him was all gone. He felt like the husk of a character.

This version of Snufkin was on of my favs, cause you could actually see his flaws and disagree with his actions. He had room to grow, and he did, he truly did.

He learned from Moomin just like Moomin learned from him. Their characters Arcs co align witch each other, their relationship and interactions are the pillars of the entire show. Snufkin and Moomintroll are what make the show proceed.

Finding the 2019 show for the first time as an 18 year old gave me confirmation and trust, that i was allowed to live a soft and slow life as a queer person. If Moomintroll and Snufkin could have that kind of beautiful queer slow burn romance, then i had a chance to as well.

They knew that a big part of their viewers are queer, and they knew how popular Snufmin was. They knew what kind of ppl they attracted, or they wouldnt have made it like that.

All the soft moments, the longing, the zoom in on eye contact, the zoom in on hand holding. They said trust us, they said be patient, and then they threw everything they had been building up out and set fire to it.

We got Queerbaited, and i truly havnt felt this feeling for a while. We got actual queer shows now, ofc they all end up being cancelled! But they exist!

This show felt like it was crafted with so much love and care, that i completely let my guard down. The entire queer Moomin community did a 5 year long trustfall, just to hit the floor the last second.

Season 4 of Moominvalley felt empty. It felt lost of all care and love. The first 3 seasons felt handcrafted by warm hands, season 4 felt machine made. Easy to digest, with no real soul.

Season 4 of Moominvalley feels souless.

I have chosen to live in a world where Comet in Moominvalley is a prequal to s4 and that s4 is a prequal to s1. The true last season was S3 and Moominvalley ended with Snufkin and Moomin walking arm in arm. Thats the only way i can Rationalize everything.

I have so much more to say, but ill stop here for now. Hope all of you are doing okay<3

[eternal-moss]

Good Lord I cannot stop Simonposting

Anyway. The Golbetty shrine. Is incredibly messed up and delightfully feels like the sort of thing someone would construct after comprehending the god of chaos.

It’s clearly not Simon’s first time doing the ritual in vain (we’ve already seen him try many times in the montage at the end of the show to get her back, including consulting the Cosmic Owl and Prismo), so there’s holes in the wall that correspond to Golb’s symbols. The Enchiridion is also there, which was the main source of power for summoning elder gods like the Litch (used to resurrect himself) Golb (used by Magic Man and Betty) and (attempt to) time travel (by Betty). But before the apocalypse, the Enchiridion was owned by Simon himself, and both him and Betty studied it. So it has the twofold power of being a very strong magic battery and has the emotional link to Petrigrof.

The empty bottles and whatever those terrifying lamprey looking things are in a makeshift statue, harbouring a cleaner looking idol (which he probably created himself) out of clay. Making a statue of a god at least twice? Does that mean that even if one gets broken or damaged he has the other one? Or does it make the rituals stronger?

We know that Simon knew a bit about Golb before the apocalypse- in the final episode of the main series we have a flashback of him and Betty, where he says “I keep seeing reference to this mysterious entity that embodies chaos” and “his presence is felt in every crevice where chaos lurks”. To which Betty replies “well it’s a good thing he isn’t here then.”

She sacrificed herself to keep him safe and away from the god of chaos and madness, by fusing her soul with his. Golb being this sort of god means that he’s probably the originator of MMS (Magic, Madness and Sadness) which is a canonical condition where insane/depressed characters will have a higher propensity to magic, and magic users are more prone to bouts of mania, amnesia and depression.

The crown was basically a catalyst of MMS, which caused Simon to have unnatural elemental powers (unlike the elementals which don’t experience default MMS) as well as effecting his body and mind.

Betty is pretty much the only character to have ‘diagnosed’ MMS, recognising it in most magic users, and in Simon, hoping to undo its effects on him. Her theory is proven correct in the episode ‘Betty’ by Bella Noche undoing all the magic in Wizard City and the effects of the crown are nullified, and retracts its influence from Simon, causing him to become ‘normal again’ and regain his clarity and memories.

Grief is shown to be a strong natural catalyst to MMS, which also happened to Magic Man (after his wife Margles was ‘taken by Golb’ which still has an unclear meaning, she definitely didn’t fuse like Betty, although wishing her back at Prismo’s did the exact same thing as Simon wishing Betty back which is really unusual), and Betty herself after the ‘You Forgot Your Floaties’ episode (which by the way is like one of the best episodes in the show).

Betty’s whole motive was to save Simon and free him from madness, which she did at the cost of her soul. But now, ironically, Simon’s grief is causing him to develop it again, which is how he channels the Golb rituals (like how Betty and magic man did) and also probably how the Fionnaverse portal even opened up in the first place.

Something about about Simon having panic attacks in his house and just generally getting triggered by a lot of stuff (Ice, the books he wrote as Ice King, etc) but then gently stroking the clay idol he made of the god of madness because that’s his wife is just heart breaking

Look at that expression :( it’s longing followed by guilt because he knows this is exactly what she would never want him to do.

[stealingyourbones]

Question! I have been getting into DC comics cuz of dpxdc, and I saw your tags on frank Miller on a recent post. One of my irl friends told me to read the dark knight returns and while it was occasionally hard to follow I assumed that was a result of when it was written rather than who wrote it? But I did overall enjoy it.

I guess what I'm asking is why you say frank Miller is a bad writer when it seems like the dark knight returns was so acclaimed?

(I saw the nazi thing too but that's something I can google so while it's news to me it's not my main question)

ok so. A lot of this is my personal opinion and I'm not too equipped to say shit about this because I'm not very political but I'm going to give it my best shot. Put under a cut so folks who don't want to hear about comic ranting can simply scroll past

I’m just gonna write a quick thing for the Nazi stuff, He isn't exactly a Nazi but boy oh boY does he set off many warning flags. Frank Miller is also the writer of the comic 300, if that sounds familiar that's because the movie you're probably thinking of is indeed based off these comics. The Spartan's ideology helped create the baselines of Fascism. Fascism is a pretty leading cause of commentary in Frank Millers work. In Batman: The Dark Knight he is a fascist. In Hard Boiled there's swastikas in the background every so often. (I even went back to reread it just to make sure and yep. they definitely were there) In 300 there's a shitton of Fascism... I could go on but still. His comics are incredibly gorey, have a discussion about a world gone wrong that can only be changed using force and weaponry (the whole Dark Knight "I am a surgeon" monologue for example), and the fact that he has Fascism as the main point of nearly all of the comics he's written... it doesn't sit right with me and it's a consistent pattern.

Now, onto the bad writing. I must firstly preface that these are my own opinions and that I didn't grow up reading Frank Miller's work. I think he was a good writer but isn't one anymore. His writing did incredible things for DC and you can see his influence in Batman even today. Works I've read and enjoyed of his are: Daredevil, Batman Year One, and Dark Knight. Nowadays you'll see many folks like myself talk about how Frank Miller has fallen off the deep end. A vast majority of Frank Miller's comics have reoccurring themes: politics, fascism, extreme violence, and so so much weaponry. Politics is in every comic book. There is no unpolitical comic, there ARE comics that are batshit wild with their politics and that's what I'm talking about. I'll get back to this later. He wrote many good comics, ones that first come to mind are Daredevil , Wolverine, Batman: Dark Knight, Batman: Year One, Sin City, Ronin, and 300. All of these comics are still credited by folks as amazing comics and hell, I recommend folks to read them go and check them out. Then 9/11 happened. That along with rampant alcoholism. Those reoccurring themes I mentioned? They become exponentially more blatant in his works. Especially on the political angle. You can see the difference between his works from pre and post 9/11. If you read Dark Knight and Dark Knight 2 back to back. It's night and day. He even made a comic during the post 9/11 panic called Holy Terror. The comic's title was originally pitched as Holy Terror, Batman! with the Gotham hero himself as the main character but it swiftly denied by DC, denied being published by DC, and changed to what it is now. The basic plot of this comic: A Vigilante named The Fixer fights Al-Qaeda after attacking Empire City. He doesn't even mention the word Al-Qaeda until 80 pages into a 150 page comic. The comic is some INCREDIBLY blatant post 9/11 propaganda that's ridiculously Islamophobic and anti-muslim. That isn't even my opinion, Frank Miller has said that's what this comic was. It is scattered with a ridiculous amount of hate speech written by a hate fueled man in 2007. Now onto comics that you'd more likely read. All Star Batman and Robin (2005). Oh boy. Let's compare shall we? Batman Dark Knight Returns (1986)

All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #1 (2005)

mind you this is as Dick is being driven to GCPD for questioning RIGHT AFTER HIS PARENTS DIED. He gets kidnapped by Bruce out of the police car. Not calmed in his arms after the murder and brought to the manor. Kidnapped. All Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder #2 (2005)

( a brief intermission of this sickass pose of a shirtless Alfred Pennyworth comforting Vicky Vale)

now back to the kidnapping:

[Skipping Bruce getting chased by the GCPD, Jumping the Batmobile ONTOP of a GCPD car, and laughing and talking to his car all the while Dick is absolutely terrified. They then use boosters that propel the Batmobile into the sky.]

Smashcut to #4 where they actually enter the Batcave.

I don't even think I need to explain myself. This is Spider-Man: One More Day levels of mischaracterization. Like seriously. Bruce kidnapping Dick after his parents were killed? Calling him a retard and hitting him during the aftermath (we can go on about how in 2005, the r slur was used commonly but this was just out of pocket), Leaving him in the cold batcave and told to eat rats? Frank Miller used to write some incredible works. Nowadays his writing is as decent as Rob Liefeld's art.

[zoeykallus]

Hello! 👋

I LOVE your work and the way you capture the personalities of the characters. You're incredibly talented.

I'd like to request an 18+ one shot with Crosshair (fem reader) that's a little different than normal...

Cross is always very cold, rough, and distant, so I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he started being gentle with the reader. But still in a Crosshair kinda way.

Here's what I was thinking (TW, i briefly mention the reader having past sexual/relationship traumas): The reader and Crosshair have worked together on and off for years. They never really talk about personal things or get emotional because they're both kinda similar. But they have feelings for each other that are on a deeper level than they've experienced before with others. Something happens where they end up being alone and emotionally vulnerable in front of one another (perhaps Cross saves the reader from something and gets all protective and has to calm the reader down from panicking and it gets steamy 😳🤤) and it basically ends in getting laid. But perhaps the reader is afraid of romance and intimacy from past experiences that Crosshair knows a bit about, and he truly loves her so instead of being quick and rough with her, he starts really slow, gentle, and sensual and it gradually gets more intense 🤭.

Take your time and prioritize your mental health!!

And I know that this could potentially encompass some heavy topics, so don't feel obligated to write this! 🫶❤️

Aloha!

🤔 Okay, I needed a while to read through all this and I did it repeatedly because for some reason nothing of it stuck in my head. That's what sleep deprivation does with you, no focus at all.

Now, I don't think Crosshair is always very cold, rough and distant. First of all, he's mostly playing it. I think it's mostly part of a self-defence act. 'Stay professional and don't let anyone get too close.' That stoic pure soldier behavior is kinda like a shield I think. Well, at least in my HC. Anyway, I know what you meant, so never mind 😅

Let's see if I can do this...

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Unexpected Gentleness

Warnings: Angst/Tension/Protective Crosshair/ Soft Grumpman Crosshair/Suggestive/Described Sexual Intercourse/Spicy Handsy Stuff/ Implied Past Trauma Of Reader/Soft Smut(?)/18+

AC: A hundred years late, I'm finally done with this request. This may, or may not be, the longest One-Shot I've written so far... I don't know anymore by now, it certanly feels like it. I definitely wrote too much stuff to remember 😅 Didn't proofread this yet, because I'm close to keeling over any minute, sorry.

You never thought you would end up in this situation. Crosshair and you have been separated from the rest of the group by a storm. Since you were supposed to explore a cave system anyway, and you are protected from the storm inside, you continue to explore and scan the tunnel system. However, you are not the only ones seeking refuge from the storm in the caves. The group of black market smugglers you are looking for are also there. It all happens very quickly, from one moment to the next you are attacked. Blaster shots fly through the tunnel system and echo off the cave walls. Your flashlights only partially illuminate the cave, many dark corners where the enemy could be, remain lightless, and so two of the men are able to sneak up behind you. Someone jumps into your back and rams you hard to the ground, at first you can't breathe, you feel a knee in your back, your attacker holds you on the ground while he takes off everything you could have used as a weapon.

The impact was hard and painful, you gasp for air in panic as it almost feels as if the oxygen will never return to your lungs. The helpless position you find yourself in stirs up panic in your mind. There it is again, air, frantically you breathe in and out far too quickly. Your eyes are burning, fine stone dust and tears. You can't move, you can't defend yourself, you can't breathe properly, you can't even find your voice to scream. Then you hear a thudding sound, a startled gasp and in the same second the weight is gone from your back. You roll around, crawl to the cave wall and crouch down. You nervously scan the surroundings with your flashlight. Crosshair. He is standing over a man, presumably the one who was kneeling on your back earlier. The man on the ground is no longer moving, Crosshair is standing over him with his blaster. The Sniper looks in your direction, shielding his eyes with his hand against the beam of your flashlight. "Stop blinding me," he growls. "Sorry," you stammer, lowering the flashlight beam. You tremble as Crosshair crouches down in front of you and takes a closer look at you. "Breathe evenly, slowly, in and out. You're hyperventilating."

You blink several times, then force yourself to breathe in and out slowly, feeling your pulse finally calm down. "That's it," Crosshair grumbles, "Keep breathing," and helps you to your feet. He shakes his head and growls to himself, "That's what you get for having to take untrained staff with you"

For a second you want to say something defiant, but you see the look on his face and swollow it down. Usually you can handle his sass and grumble, but you are still shaken from what happened.

You bow your head in shame and silently follow him further along the tunnel system to a junction that looks like a small room. Slightly elevated from the rest of the tunnel, a slightly larger alcove. "We'll camp here for now," says Crosshair, and takes off some of his equipment, including his backpack and its contents. You do the same, and you pile up your blankets so that you can sit and lie reasonably softly. He also sets up a camping light, so you can see each other. Crosshair steps to the edge of the alcove, away from the blankets, and silently, impatiently beckons you towards him. You hastily follow his invitation, still with your head bowed. You hear him sigh, then you feel his hand under your chin. He forces you to look at him and scrutinizes your eyes. "You need to rinse your out your eyes, or they'll get infected. They're already red. You have stone dust in your eyes" He hands you his water bottle, which you take with a shaky hand. But when he sees the trembling in your fingers, he takes the bottle from you again.

"Head to the side and open your eyes," he demands curtly. You comply with this request too. You squint as he begins to clean your eyes. "Pull yourself together," he says quietly, almost gently. After a while, he hands you a clean handkerchief with which you dry your face, then he asks, "How are things looking, do you still feel foreign particles in your eyes?" You blink to test, then shake your head. "No, it's all gone." Crosshair nods and hums, "Good" He sits down on the blankets he spread on the floor earlier and beckons you over. "Sit down" You comply and sit down next to him. When he takes off your jacket, you flinch and stiffen. Crosshair pauses and looks at you questioningly, then says calmly, "I want to see if you've been hurt, bruised or anything, things you might not have noticed under adrenaline" You take off your jacket yourself and say, "My chest hurts a bit, but I don't think anything is broken" He carefully touches you over your T-shirt and applies pressure to your ribs. "Does that hurt?" You shake your head. "No, it's more of a constant, slight pain. It'll just be a few bruises" "Can I have a look?"

You blink uncertainly. You actually trust him, but you're still hesitant. "What's wrong?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. You swallow and say quietly, "I had more than my fair share of unpleasant experiences in the past with letting my guard down with people, physically" He growls softly then says, "You can be sure that won't happen to you with me. I don't cross boundaries I'm not supposed to, you're in control. A simple word is enough." Crosshair sounds unusually gentle, and at first you can only look at him in surprise. But he doesn't push you any further, waiting patiently. Finally, you nod and take a deep breath. You take your shirt off over your head and sit next to him in your bra. He wants to stare, to take a close look at you, but he concentrates decently on your rib area. His fingertips glide carefully over one spot. The touch gives you goose bumps. "Here," he says calmly, "A slightly larger bruise, not too bad" You breathe a sigh of relief and smile nervously. "Turn around," he says gently, "Show me your back."

You do as you're told and feel his fingertips on your skin again. "It looks the same here, a bruise, nothing to worry about" His hand moves to the back of your neck, and you feel a gentle shiver run down your spine. He says a little growling, "That asshole got you pretty good, saw him sweep you off your feet. I was attacked by his buddy at the same moment, otherwise I would have reacted faster" "Thanks for saving me, I would have been lost without you" Crosshair snorts softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "Indeed" You slowly turn to face him, still half naked, your shirt lying next to you on the blanket. He's not staring at your breasts though, but at your face as you say, "I'm sorry if I'm a liability on this mission" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds soft as he says, "You do your part, I'll take care of the rough stuff, we complement each other well enough" He studies your face in silence for quite a while, and you find it hard to look at him, you're always so nervous around him even though he doesn't really give you a reason to be.

Braver than you feel, you ask him, "What are you thinking about right now?" Crosshair blinks, looks back into your eyes and says, "About how much I'd like to touch you right now. But that's probably not appropriate. Apart from the fact that you probably don't want me to." Your heart starts to race. A mixture of joy, nervousness and a little fear flood your system. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you can feel it all the way up into your throat. You fight with yourself while he looks at you calmly, patiently, waiting. You're fascinated by him, you've liked him for a while, maybe you even have a crush on him. But you didn't expect him to say it so directly here and now. "You want to touch me?" you ask, as if you're not quite sure what these words mean. He tilts his head slightly to the side, then nods and says, "I'm thinking about it, yes. But having just seen how nervous my closeness makes you, I'm holding back." You say honestly in a low voice, "I just don't know how to read you. Sometimes you seem so considerate and thoughtful, other times rather harsh and rude" Crosshair raises his eyebrows, then says, "I'm a soldier, I can't always be gentle" You sigh softly and say, "I know that, I meant explicitly when dealing with me"

He frowns critically and asks, "I was rude to you? When?" "Not rude," you say hurriedly, "Just... grumpy" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit impatient sometimes, that may be. I'm not used to working with civilian agents, even though we've known each other for a while now and have worked together from time to time. I'm usually surrounded by other soldiers. There's not much room for subtlety, especially in the field" You nod, you can understand that. Nevertheless, he is very different from his brothers, Wrecker or Tech, for example, are much more relaxed, even Hunter, but you keep this observation to yourself. "Quite understandable," you finally concede. His features relax a little, and he asks you, "Are you afraid of me?" You shake your head and answer without hesitation, "No, not at all" He smirks and says, "I think so too. If you were, you'd probably have put your shirt back on by now. Physical nakedness is also a certain form of showing vulnerability. If you didn't trust me, you would have covered up again long ago"

You blink and realize with surprise that he is right, your shirt is still next to you, you had almost forgotten about it. He slowly reaches out to your face and gently places his hand on your cheek. You hold still and look at him, fascinated, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin. His face comes closer, closer and closer. You automatically close your eyes a second before his lips touch yours. It starts with a gentle touch, almost chaste. A few breaths pass before you feel gentle pressure on your lips and return it. You let yourself be pushed backwards, slowly, gently, until you are lying on your back and Crosshair is halfway over you. His lips part from yours, and he lifts his head to look at you. "I had to try it now," he says with a smirk, "How do you feel?" For lack of better words, you say simply, "Warm" He chuckles softly. "Warm is good" You smile too, even though your heart is racing, you're not afraid of him or his touch, you know you're in good hands, you know you can trust him. He would never hurt you, never push you. You know that a simple word will be enough to put him at a distance again, that he will always respect your boundaries. You feel safe, and your hands wander over his arms, on his chest, over the cool material of his armor.

"Maybe I should at least take off the hard parts of my gear?" You nod and say, "That would be better" Crosshair straightens up again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him remove one piece of armor at a time until he's wearing only the Blacks on his body. He lies half over you again, resting his weight on his arms and knees. Crosshair looks you straight in the eye and says, "You're not forced to do anything and I won't be upset if you'd rather have me at a distance, you can always say something and I'll back off" You smile at him and nod. "I know, I really appreciate that" He shakes his head and says, "That should go without saying, for everyone, you don't have to be grateful for that. But I noticed earlier how insecure you are and when you mentioned that you've had bad experiences, I thought I should mention it. I don't want you to feel forced into anything" You nod again. You automatically want to say thank you again, but you swallow it. "I don't feel any pressure at the moment" He kisses you again, this time more urgently, more sensually. Close to your lips, he whispers, "Tell me if that changes" You want to answer him, but then you feel his tongue gliding over your lower lip, testing, questioning, searching for access. Your lips open automatically and let him in. Your tongues meet in a velvety collision that sends a shiver through your whole body and makes the heat move under your skin, between your thighs. A soft, sweet sigh comes from your throat, a sound that triggers an intense feeling of success, satisfaction in Crosshair. His long arms wrap around you, one of his long legs slips between yours. Immediately you feel the pulse between your thighs, in the intimate heat of your womanhood. His tongue flicks playfully against yours again and again, chasing it with velvety strokes. Every touch of his tongue in your mouth makes your clit pulsate as if he were kissing you in a completely different place.

His long, elegant fingers undo your belt and pants, pull your belt out of the loops and put it to one side. Just the idea and anticipation of every touch makes your pulse race, your nerve endings vibrate and your panties get wet. You imagined it differently, you expected more fear, but you feel completely safe, Crosshair is gentle, considerate, something unfamiliar, unexpected, but very welcome. As his lips part from yours, he lets out a somewhat shaky breath. His muscles are tense, he holds back. You both know he wants more, but he's taking it a lot slower than his body wants right now. "Is everything all right?" you ask softly, your mind still foggy from his kisses. "Of course," Crosshair grumbles and kisses your neck. The touch makes your nipples harden and causes you to wriggle out of your pants automatically, almost of your own accord, and slip them off your body. Another shaky gasp from Crosshair. His fingertips glide over your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh and back up again. They barely touch your skin, just very gently, then they grab, your thigh, then past your thigh to your right bun. His grip is firm, but not hard.

"I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity for us to get closer," he says, lost in thought, you're not even sure if the words are really meant for you.

His hand leaves your bun and moves forward, over the fabric of your panties, gliding gently over them, drawing teasing circles. Your thighs open for him, your mouth slightly open, another sigh comes from your throat. His lips brush gently over your chin and when he looks at you again, he grins. "You seem pretty comfortable around me by now" Your cheeks are warm as you answer him with a grin, "You could say that" You feel his hard length against your thigh through the fabric of his blacks. He presses himself closer to you, kissing his way from your chin to your ear. Once there, he whispers to you, "Feeling good so far?" A shiver runs through your body, only a small hoarse sound comes out of your mouth. Then his face is over yours again, he smiles smugly, he knows exactly what his words have just triggered in you. The moment he kisses you again, his nimble fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, slowly moving further down towards your heated, wet center. He is gentle, teasing, gliding and caressing over your soft folds. You feel a pulse very clearly, Crosshair's gentle touch awakens in you the desire for more. You buck up your hips, the motion causing his fingers to slide further down, to your expectant wet opening, and a fingertip slides in ever so slightly.

"I can see," he says contentedly, in a smoky voice, "I've whetted your appetite for more" And he's right, you want more, so much more, more contact, to feel more of him. You tug on his blacks, try to take them off. He is only too happy to help. At last you are both completely undressed. Your bodies press against each other, naked skin against naked skin. You're both giving off so much heat, you've long since stopped feeling the coolness of the cave. Crosshair's fingers are all over your skin, gliding, caressing, groping, one pleasant shiver after another coursing through your body. Everything blurs in your perception, all you feel is the heat of your bodies, the pulse between your thighs, Crosshair's touch. As soon as he's on top of you, you cling to him, pulling him closer to you, not giving him a chance to wander. You are so unexpectedly hungry for him that even the Sniper is surprised when you reach down between you, grab his cock and guide it to your wet entrance. He pauses, however, the tip barely an inch sunk into your pussy. "Are you sure you want this?" You blink, your face heated, looking up into his face. Your legs hook around his thighs and press him closer to you, making him slowly sink into you.

Crosshair is well-hung, you can clearly feel him stretching you, sliding deeper into your pussy. But he's careful, even bracing himself a little against your leg clamps that push him deeper inside you. "Slow down, kitten, I don't want to hurt you" You realize he's right, it doesn't hurt yet, but his massive cock is clearly making itself felt in your wet heat. You loosen your grip and let out a soft, deep sigh. He looks at you scrutinizingly, then smiles and says, "You're doing very well, kitten" Slowly he sinks deeper, as far as he can go, then he pauses, leans his forehead against yours and has to collect himself. The tightness that surrounds him feels incredibly intense. You see him bite his lip before he slowly begins to move inside you. Your legs cling to him again, your hands move to his shoulder blades, your fingers cling to his shoulders. It feels like his whole body is the perfect fit for you. The stimulation is everywhere you need it as your bodies melt together. You feel every taut muscle in his body, hear his soft, raspy gasps. Your bodies move together in perfect unison, your head sinks back, a smile spreads across your face as Crosshair looks at you mesmerized, you close your eyes and take in the feeling of him filling you completely.

It's not invasive like you feared, not at all. It feels tender, just right, the way his body nestles against and into you. The pulse intensifies, your fingernails press into his shoulders automatically. Spurred on by this, Crosshair moves a little faster. A hoarse moan escapes your lips, louder than expected, followed by a quiet, surprised, "Oh fuck..." You weren't expecting this intensity, this feeling. Your hands automatically move to his ass and claw into it as you feel yourself slithering towards a climax. Crosshair lets out a small, surprised grunt as your nails dig into his buns, but then he lets out a satisfied growl and a grin twitches at the corners of his mouth as he intensifies his thrusts. You don't hold back at all, your moans and gasps, hoarse, expectant, about to explode. It's music to his ears, adding more fire to his own arousal. As your thighs twitch around his body, your pussy around his cock and you drop beneath him with a long, husky sigh, the knot in his abdomen loosens, the tension dissolving into a long, intense, slowly ebbing pulse as he cums inside you.

You laugh, quietly, grinning. You feel so good, so relieved, liberated, safe. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised. "Feeling good, I guess?" You giggle. "Good? No, great." Crosshair smirks, kisses your chin, your nose, your lips, and leans his forehead against yours with a sigh. "Mission accomplished," he murmurs softly.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

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[brokenwinebox]

Carmy: Regression

This might be the craziest/stupidest take for s3 of The Bear but whatever. I had talked about how s3 was about isolation and guilt before. What if it was also about regression (at least for Carmy’s character)?

Sydney is (re)meeting an award-winning chef of fine dining. Sydney thought about leaving the bear (officially) but still came back in s1/thought about leaving the bear which lead to the panic attack in s3.

Carmy and Richie are back to fighting like in s1 with Marcus and Sydney between them.

I need more time to think about this but I think the whole purpose was about life going full circle and s4 is (hopefully) about fully breaking the cycle.

I’m basically implying this season was a giant defense mechanism. Don’t take my word for it! I’m just getting back into writing metas after a hiatus.

Carmy was always used to the routine and being stressed in fine dining. He still talked about how that experience was “everything” even when he discussed having stomach problems. He also says that he lost track of time then Mikey passed away.

In s3, I’m fairly certain Carmy says that he’s tired or sick of it. That could mean that he’s been trying to get back into that state/routine and it’s not working this time.

“an attempt to achieve something important.” Like getting a star for a restaurant perhaps? “a sense of security, reciprocated love, and trust.” hmm…

I have also discussed how Carmy and Claire are basically reminiscing on their “high school” days in their relationship. Couldn’t that fit for the “feeling of childhood innocence” that’s stated in the article?

I feel like I’m not making any sense but also think I’m beginning to crack the code at the same time so I’ll just leave this here for now.

Authors Note: I wrote this yesterday on Twitter before the promo that just recently came out. This is not a complete meta but I thought I’d put it here so I could see if anyone agrees or disagrees with these thoughts! I’m glad to be sort of back after a fairly long hiatus! @thoughtfulchaos773 made a video with Carl Jung coincidentally enough. I might be closer to the truth than I thought lol.

[pluckyredhead]

For your Fourth World reading do you have a reading order you could share with us? Or recommendations on where to start? Sorry if this has been asked before

No need to apologize! I've been meaning to write up my Fourth World recs so thank you for the reminder. Also it is unfortunately a short list lol.

The Fourth World by Jack Kirby:

Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen: Kirby wrote and drew issues #133-148. This is where he launched the Fourth World, and where we first saw Darkseid and a number of other characters and concepts. It is a little tangential to the main Fourth World storyline (and some of it, like the two Goody Rickels issues, is REALLY weird and not necessarily in a good way). I would say if you are interested in the Fourth World from a comics history perspective, you should read Kirby's Jimmy Olsen, but if you are interested from a blorbo perspective and just want to read about Orion or Scott or whoever, you can skip it.

New Gods (1971): This is Orion's series. An absolute must, this is the heart of the Fourth World. The original run is issues #1-11 (there are a couple series that pick up the numbering, but the first 11 issues are the real deal).

Forever People (1971): I would say this is the other book that is really central to Kirby's magnum opus and the themes he was exploring. Again, less interesting from a blorbo perspective (I'm sure Mark Moonrider is someone's blorbo...) but it's only 11 issues so I would recommend reading it for the historical/thematic value. Do it for Kirby!

Mister Miracle (1971): The other blorbo! Kirby's original run is #1-18.

New Gods (1984) #6: In 1984 DC reprinted the original New Gods run as double-sized issues (so #1 contains the original #1 and #2 from 1971, etc.). Issue #6 reprints the original New Gods #11 and then adds new material to "conclude" Kirby's story. But you'll want to continue and read...

The Hunger Dogs (also called DC Graphic Novel #4): This was Kirby's conclusion to the Fourth World saga. It's not his original vision, but it's the most DC would allow him. He is not quite at the heights he was in 1971, but it's nice to see him get a chance to conclude his tale, and it's a must-read if you ship Orion and Lightray.

The Fourth World by people who aren't Jack Kirby:

New Gods (1995): This is Rachel Pollack's run and it's excellent. The art is extremely 1995 but the writing makes up for it. The last three issues of the series are written and drawn by John Byrne instead, and they're fine - you can read them or skip them, doesn't matter.

Orion (2000): Walt Simonson's run, AN ABSOLUTE MUST-READ. RUN DON'T WALK. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS. Orion suffers so much and it's so delicious to me.

Solo #7: There are only two pages of Fourth World content in here but it's Orion betting Scott he can come up with a death trap Scott can't escape and then literally just trying to kill him for fun while Lightray has a panic attack. Orion and Scott are both lunatics and I love that for them. Brothers of all time.

Both of DC's YA graphic novels about these characters, Mister Mircle: The Great Escape by Varian Johnson and Daniel Isles and Barda by @ngoziu, are excellent.

AND UNFORTUNATELY THAT IS IT. Scott and Barda are in JLI which I will always recommend, but it's not strictly speaking a Fourth World book. Orion is in Grant Morrison's JLA which is a classic, but he doesn't have a huge role in it as I recall. You should already be reading Kelly Thompson's current run on Birds of Prey because it's perfect but Barda is especially perfect in it.

The nice (?) thing about the Fourth World is that every writer basically completely ignores all previous writers except Kirby so there's not a lot of continuity to track. If you read Kirby, you can encounter the characters anywhere else and know everything you need to know.

Happy reading!

[01always14fanfic]

Thank you for your contribution to the bottom!harvey (omega, sub!harvey) agenda in suits fandom, i know about suits around 10 years ago but could not get into it because i'm an old man fucker but this fandom love dom, top!harvey so much to the point it takes up 99% of fanfic so i can't really indulge myself in it, although the fandom still likes top!harvey a lot but at least there is someone who actively write bottom!harvey, hopes you get whatever you want in your life, your pillow is cold on both sides and ao3 will work properly on your phone again <333 also I noticed your writing did improve a lot since your first suits fanfic tho, especially marvey "bedroom intimate scene" idk how to explain but you wrote it more details, more lewdly than your first fic.

I need some new bottom!Harvey fics to read!

Little side piece, I basically boycotted the last season of Suits for a while. I felt like Louis was one of the only people who stayed true to their characters the entire time. I hated how much Donna and Harvey changed (I have an essay about that honestly). Not Donna's job either, but her personality. Her and Harvey went from having all the chemistry in the world, to cheesey and awkward. I finally finished it out. The last episode was the only episode that entire season that everyone acted normal. Harvey could have and would have ended Faye in two maybe three episodes in any other season.

But that entire season is where you see how much Harvey wants to count on Mike and Donna. He doesn't need to, he wants to. In the previous seasons, seeing Harvey's panic attacks with separation was deep. They had been building for a long time too, we have seen a lot of moments of Harvey's armor chipping away.

Harvey looking to Donna and Mike to make him whole again. He wants Donna's advice, he wants Mike to save him, which is the only consistency Harvey had. Harvey wants the world to see him as strong and unbeatable, but not Donna and Mike. He doesn't know to process his emotions well, Mike and Donna do. To me, Harvey always needed a dominant it was just between Mike and Donna.

Mike in the beginning was too green in Harvey’s world. After a few years, their banter changed. You see Harvey letting up on the rookie jokes, the good boy jokes, and overall just trying to show his dominance with Mike. They became equals eventually.

Donna in the beginning was too insecure about mixing work and personal. She didn't want to take the risk and make that full commitment, she knew if she wanted to, Harvey would have tried. The kiss while he was with like the therapist was the definition of self sabotage.

Mike and Donna did everything and anything Harvey needed them to do, but they also yanked him back when he went too far. Jessica tried to do that, but most of the time it created more rebellion.

I personally think Harvey needs a dominant, but he can't feel 'owned'. It's fine balance. Lol.

Thank you telling me there's improvement in my writing, honestly its because of the support I get from readers. I kept practicing so I could deliver good material, I hope I keep getting better. That's why I write fanfiction, I want to publish someday, but I need to work on my everything.

..Like eventually I have to write an ending. No story goes on forever. Mine do apparently.

[cosmicclownboy]

Look there was always going to be ONE show that did the canonizing of a heavily popular m/m pairing first. If we're being honest a lot of fans wanted their show to be first.

The reality is a lot of the reasons it doesn't go there is because 1.the network they are on and 2. the viewership numbers and demographics they choose to target. What people don't get is half the time the actors and the show WANT to go there. Supernatural the NDA's may of been ironclad but the actors disappointment is forever visible.

Now when it comes to 9-1-1 imo I think why they went fuck it lets do it is multiple factors.

This was always a queer show since day 1. People can fight it deny it try and jump through hoops but since day 1 it has centered queer characters regularly. In real life queer people are drawn together whether they have figured it out or not so Buck and Eddie and Hen all actively working on the same rig makes sense to me. Just like Tommy being gay and originally being on the rig makes sense to me. It's always unintentional but it happens. And probably part of the safety for being there is knowing they will always be actively accepted regardless even if they don't know who they are.

The network change. Now being on Fox they clearly had marked the demographics they cared about the most and threw an odd crumb here and there to the younger fans. And I think that's changed. I think with the transition of networks they just want viewership numbers to be high. Which means looking at what all fans want in general. People were never clambering the seats for Buddie because they were two hot men or whatever. It was about how they both had queer coding and that their relationship moments would often parallel the romantic pairings in the show. Further giving more queer coding. When one of the men is having a panic attack and admitting that they are performing when being with women my thought isn't damn he'll meet the right one eventually. It's um buddy are you sure you like women? And with Buck- Eddie's introduction is centered on his pov so the mighty good man song the slow mo that's all Buck's seeing. There was actively nothing about Buck that was straight he's always been open and nurturing.

THEY HAD A CHANCE TO DO THE FUNNIEST THING AND THEY DID. Between the memeability of Buck being canonized Bi in 4 episodes with a different network. The sheer amount of fandoms who went through the M/M queer coded long running shows - they had an audience they could target with good results. People are already starting the show because Buck got to be himself .And they have actively marketed to Buddie fans.. The interviews with the actors. Buck's bi walkthrough being a positive experience with a guest star. Everything about this story is treated with respect because it was never just the fans who wanted this. Poor Oliver wanted Buck to be kissing men for years. AND ALL THE QUEER CHARACTERS DOING FAMILY FUEDS DURING PRIDE MONTH!!!! Iconic marketing actually. We love to see it.

And lastly out of every m/m pairing Buck/Eddie is the easiest imo to sway general audiences. Think about it. Buck and Eddie are basically raising a child together. Eddie wrote a will that said if he dies Buck raises his son. Eddie forces himself to be with women who he doesn't like out of duty. Buck seeks out unattainable women or relationships he know won't work. WHY IS THAT? The story gives a reason to both characters behavior. Why they keep repeating the same patterns over and over. You won't stop the closeminded people and the ones who are biphobic or ignorant but it opens the door for fans who are none of those things. And changes the game of television.

[ryusuisloveinterest]

Can you write a head-canon where Stanley Snyder and y/n go on a mission, and y/n has a panic attack, so Stanley has to calm her down. one-shot that shows how different characters from Dr stone would react to y/n having a panic attack. Lol thanks!!! 😁

hello beautiful! Ngl I kinda got confused on what you wanted me to write so I wrote a scenario on Stanley helping you through a panic attack so I hope that works lol. If you want other characters or you want me to rewrite it please send another request. Thank you for your patience and hope you enjoy!💖

Stanley helping you with a panic attack 💕

Taken before Kingdom of Science came to America 

There were a couple of people who were trying to rebel against Xeno, so you and Stanley were sent to deal with them. The two of you have been having trouble with your relationship lately, between him constantly working with Xeno and barely paying attention to you to the differences in views between you two. As you walked together there was an awkward silence only you seemed to mind. “What are we gonna do when we find the rebels?” You ask even though you know the answer. “Kill them probably.” You look down, disappointed and disgusted. As if he could sense your change in mood, Stanley says, “Maybe would could just take some captive…” You sigh. At least he’s trying to be better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both approach the rebel camp. You look around and see so many familiar faces. The woman who helped you sew the outfits for everyone. The man who dreamed of being one of the best guitarist there ever was. Even the old lady who would do her best to remember her old baking recipes from the past. Your memories sink in. You really don’t want to do this. “Keep your guard up. I taught them basic self defense so they should be a decent fight.” You can’t respond to that. These are people you know and some you can even call friends. You can’t fight them! You won’t! Your heart begins to race. You start to sweat. You lean against a tree for support. You can’t catch your breath. Damnit why is this happening now!? You can’t breathe. Try to think how can you control your breathing? “(Y/n)?” Why is Stanley spinning? You thought he was attacking. Should you be attacking? Come on- “(y/n)!” Stanley rushes over to you. With his shout the rebels scatter away. “(Y/n) speak to me what’s wrong?” “Pa-i can’t- Sta- tack-“ He takes one of your hands and places it on his chest. “Do you feel my breath? Try to follow its rhythm.” He inhales then exhales at a calm pace. He does it again and again and again. Over a few minutes, you start to breathe normally again. The world isn’t spinning anymore, all you focus on now is the man you love. “Wait…Stanley I’m sorry I didn’t mean to let them get aw-“ “Why didn’t you tell me?” You have him a confused look. “Tell you what?” He tries to calm himself before he speaks, not wanting to upset you. “Your attacks. Why didn’t you ever tell me about your attacks?” You look away from him, not able to handle his anger and disappointment. You didn’t know why to be honest. You and Stanley have shared everything together. “I…because… I just feel like I couldn’t…” Now this is shocking news to him. You thought he would be offended or even angry, but the look in his eyes only showed guilt. Has he really made you feel so alone? He cups your face and makes you look at him. “(Y/n), I…I’m so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like you can’t talk to me. I’m always here for you! I- what can I do? How can i make you trust me again?” His reaction really shocked you. You’ve never seen Stanley cry yet you’re watching him tear up. You’ve never seen him struggle yet he looks so desperate right now. “Please (y/n), whatever you need to get off your chest please tell me…” With a deep breath you tell him everything; how you feel like he doesn’t see you, the way he is able to strike down anyone without blinking an eye, even how you miss him holding you in his arms while you both fall to sleep. He’s quiet for a moment, then he kisses you on the forehead. “Thank you for telling me this, I’ll be better I promise. You’re my number one (y/n) always remember that.” He helps you off the ground and gestures for you to hold his arm. When you take it you feel like you did when you first met him, connected. “I love you Stanley…” you mutter under your breath. “And I love you more.”

[youlooklikeasixtiesqueen]

here are all my thoughts and notes from purcon!! not formatted for tumblr but readable!!!

Day 1:

Opening:

everyone was so happy to be there, and so shocked how many people were there!!! 2500!!!

they showed vids before bringing everyone on stage and continued that throughout the panels. it's a cute touch

Misha auto:

he smiled and i got shaky knees and giggled like a 12 year old with a crush

jensen was at the table next to him!!

very quick but there was a huge line

he signed my book!!

i said "hi misha" and he said hi back

he looked at my destiel shirt and smiled :)

Ty & DJ:

started by telling us thank you for the congrats on their engagement

you can see how much they love each other!!! no pda but the way they look at each other!!

plus they both said multiple times that meeting each other was the best thing that happened

dj has been obsessed with eastenders since the 90s, never missed an episode

ty told everyone not to smoke cigarettes

dj had a glass of wine (it was 1pm)

left 5 mins early to get the Darius auto

Meeting Darius:

so nice and kind!! gentle vibes, literally what you would expect from misha's best friend

i was 2nd in line out of four people

four people in the autograph group so he talked to us all for about 15 minutes as a group

he signed his name on the picture, then asked if misha was going to sign it as well. i said no so he asked if he could sign misha's name for him and we all laughed and i said yes and it literally looks like misha wrote it

he told us him and misha have a competition to see who can bring the other person to a bigger event - darius took misha to the oscars, misha took darius to meet zelensky, but now darius got invited to meet the pope!!

talked to us a bit about filmmaking and how the picture aspect is basically the same throughout film history, but sound changes every week

it took 26 weeks in post for the sound of metal to get the sound right

he's friends with emilia clarke??? and said that she was so upset over the got ending because so many babies have her character's name

he felt the spn ending was rushed

sooooo handsome in person and the nicest voice

darius is getting austrian citizenship bc his grandma was from austria but she had to flee

Mark:

only saw the last bit but he was of course wandering the crowd

talked a lot about mental health and how we're not alone

said the best place to have a panic attack is a spn convention

Sachin & Osric:

fun!! not that interesting but fun!!

sachin just learned about destiel. like minutes before the panel started

talked about being poc in the industry and how much better it has gotten

Jared:

it was fine but again not interesting

talked about pranks

talked about maybe being on the boys

talked about mental health

Misha & Jensen:

an hour late bc they made jensen do photos :(

they played the confession right before they walked on stage???

question queue was very long, they took about five or six not so great questions

someone asked what their fave gym equipment is (wtf) and misha said it's the towel to slap others on the butt with

but they were very fun!!

some people decided to tell a sob story at the mic which wasted time. like they know you love supernatural, they know you're nervous, you don't need to tell them.

they joked around a lot

three touches!! fingers, high five, hug!!!

you can just see how much they adore each other

darius was sitting on the steps but they wouldn't give him a microphone :( hopefully he'll come out at misha's panel tomorrow

Day 2:

Jared & Jensen VIP:

question abt Radio Company coming to Germany

Jensen says they're discussing it, his fave songs are Quarter To and City Grown Willow

Mario Kart characters - Jared Yoshi because he poops eggs, Jensen Blue Shell guy??, his 7yo plays Rosalina, JJ can beat him in Mario Kart now

Jared is 25% German (maternal grandpa)

Jensen wants to turn his next Purcon visit into a vacation

one person is talking so slowwwww

Jensen would want to reshoot Bugs without the bees

They had to do a bee allergy test where someone actually picked up a bee with tweezers and made it sting them

3 part question 🙄 with backstory 🙄 about their kids and if they can grow up normal and if they have a strategy if their kids read fanfic

Jensen played baseball in HS

His first school play was a musical

Mark:

thanked us for letting them do the panels in english without a translator

Crowley was more excited to spend time with Dean instead of being in Hell

Mark went upstairs and helped a fan who had a bad photo with Jared

Got a standing ovation

Ty & DJ:

DJ used anti wrinkle creme on his balls but he stopped when his doctor said it would make him infertile

Ty told us to listen to a 23yo Canandian who sounds like Johnny Cash (Colter Wall??? maybe??)

Ty listens to a lot of country, DJ doesn't really have strong feelings about music

DJ adopted a dog who pissed on his belongings for 10 years - he was supposed to live until about 2 bc of health problems

DJ says to watch the movie Overboard

several questions were asked yesterday

DJ, Ty, and Ty's daughters have matching tattoos (they got them drunk) it's a little skull

Sachin & Osric:

Osric is Timon, Sachin is Pumba

Misha:

couldn't do notes bc i was in line!! wasn't picked tho, because everyone rushed to the microphone before the last panel was over

one person spent five minutes monologuing

misha said people should ask him questions on their knees

Bishagate reference!! He asked a girl if she was coming out as an alien and she said "that's rich coming from you", Darius laughed so much (while he was still on the stairs)

Compared whipped cream to cum

Darius was on stage!!

Jared:

greeted us with Guten Abend, Guten Tag, and howdy y'all

said it's not a goodbye to spn, it's a see you later

said swan song was easier than sacrifice bc he was lucifer for swan song so he had to act... reminder: that's his job...

first question was not a question

second question was a prank question

trivializing the thing where jared put coins in misha's car!!! wtf

praising mark p ew

woman keeps talking about her alarm sound which is german dean

called out a woman's shirt that says "save an impala, ride a winchester"

looks like jared will be on the boys, he basically confirmed it

he likes mountains more than beaches

says they might do a beach episode in the future

talking about the finale and the dean death scene

wants to bring jdm to the next con

Jensen:

GIANT line to ask a question

first woman named her kid Dean Jensen

hates toy slime bc it's all over his house

danneel moves a creepy doll around the house to mess with jensen

question abt cas in the winchesters and cas returning!! how to address the confession!! jensen thinks the confession was a long time coming and beautiful and raw and real!! dean understands cas loved him!! said cas saying he loves dean was clear text (rather than subtext) said cas and jensen found each other and when they meet again cas' feelings are just understood

says demon dean is stronger than soldier boy bc demon dean has no soul

boys question - jensen talks about herogasm, jack quaid just told jensen good luck when he went on set, nobody on set knew what was lube and what was hand sanitizer, he was unprepared to see so many naked people, he was standing next to a guy when the robes came off and he "had to do the glance", couldn't help looking at people having sex "there's four people here in a position i've never seen before"

woman crying while asking a question

woman said dj said he wanted to exchange his husband for jensen, and jensen said he doubts it because ty is pretty great

woman telling bad jokes, one about how women having orgasms is like a snowstorm because you can't see it coming?? not true for either i think

jensen needs to do more solo panels. i could listen to him talk for hours

i can't believe i was in the same room as this man wtf

[bettsfic]

Oh yes! I think you would love the main protagonists and their connection. I'm feral about this movie, I just watched the day before yesterday, and I'm so anxious to have time off so I can draw fanart of the thing because it's soooo good.

Now, I love horror, so I have seen so much horror in my life that I can tell you this is one of those movies in the genre that are different. Our protagonist is Sam (short for Samira) and she has a cat named Frodo (I'm sorry but that was genius in so many ways, I can't tell you why because spoilers but they really make it made sense, there is truly a connection there). Frodo the cat is a character as well, I have never seen a movie before that has an animal that has indeed some weight into the movie (at least not one that is not like Marley and Me or those kind of movies).

Anyway, sorry, back to Sam. The first thing you know when the movie starts is that she has cancer. A woman who has cancer in a movie that develops into an apocalyptic world is really interesting. The movie explored this in detail, and I loved every second.

She is tired, she is angry, she is brave, and at the same time, you can tell she is scared af. She has some problems trying to connect with people because she thinks there is no point in it anymore, and probably because she thinks they are sorry for her and therefore their interest is not genuine.

She used to be a writer. She wrote a book about poems. She doesn't have the drive to write anymore, but she carries a notebook, whatever she goes, and I love her so much, Betty. I can't even explain the whole of it.

So next, we get to know the ML. Name is Eric, she is from England and went to NY to study to be a lawyer. He is how you write Eddie on your Stranger Things fics. I went even more feral at this point, I was chewing my fist. They were perfect together.

They connect. They make wonderful things for each other.

THEY EXCHANGE CLOTHES!!!!

OLDER WOMAN, YOUNGER MAN!!!

I don't wanna say more about it so you can enjoy it for the first time yourself, if you want to watch it. (But if you want to know more, just say so, I would be happy to talk about it for hours!)

I would say something I just learned yesterday before I go. Eric has anxiety in the movie. He has panic and anxiety attacks during the movie. What they removed is that he was trying to kill himself when the whole alien/monster ordinal began, and then, he met Sam. They erase this part from the movie, I guess because of time, because I could tell anyway while watching that Eric was maybe suecidal or that al least he was neurodivergent (again, I would love to elaborate but spoilers).

Hope you have the chance to watch it, I would love to know your thoughts if you do so. Also, you can scream at me about it if you enjoy it as much as I did.

So basically, this is a movie about two really lonely people that connect and gain perspective about life and themselves while trying to survive the beginning of an apocalypse. It felt very transformative. It was perfect.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also, sorry for any weird grammar sentences. I hope I manage to come across all my ideas, English is not my first language.

I forgot to tell you, they are not trying to escape the apocalypse for 3rd parts of the movie. They are just trying to get pizza. SAM STOPS TO SMELL BOOKS AT A BOOK STORE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN APOCALYPSE!! HELP! SAD BOY FOLLOWING OLDER WOMAN LIKE A PUPPY!! There is so much going on, and I can tell this is not a horror per se. I just adore them so much. Sorry, I just needed to add these.

okay you have Compelled me. i will walk to the ends of the earth for any "sad boy following older woman like a puppy" narrative.

this is one of the few movies i don't want to see alone so i'll have to see if my roommate would want to go with me sometime this week. if i see it i'll let you know my thoughts!

[time-is-restored]

btw this might be me swinging a bat at a hornets nest but like. absolutely none of my disappointment from the tl finale comes from ship baiting or any relationships that didn’t happen (though to be clear, i think the tedbecca fake outs were meanspirited and served no narrative purpose - in noted contrast to the season's earlier jamiekeeley fakeouts, for example, which were explicitly there to demonstrate jamie's growth + maturity)

tedpendant is a really fun concept for me, and i LOVE the characterisation + thematic potential there!

but as someone who personally resonated with a lot of ted’s struggles, the idea that ted could leave richmond so… seamlessly, for lack of a better word, really doesn’t sit right with me. the thesis of the shows entire first season - assuming it can be said to have only one - was about how everyone needs the love and support of a community, whether that comes in the flavour of someone who hypes u tf up or someone who will relentlessly call u on ur shit (or, as happened quite frequently, both!).

rebecca, roy, jamie are the clearest examples as the characters with the most screentime: they were all deeply isolated and disconnected from the people around them, and that was making them miserable. the connections they made with the team, the vulnerability they finally allowed themselves to express (the ghost banishing ceremony comes to mind!), and them going on to want *more* out of their life are what made their arcs about *progression* rather than *regression*. without that clear theme of compassion + community inspiring positive growth in everyone who encounters it, there is, frankly, no season one.

my personal favourite scene from season one comes right after michelle walks away from ted, when they’ve agreed to get divorced. ted sits down on the bench looking gutted, and a little shell shocked - and beard sits down with him. hands him the drink, and they sit there together. silent, but together. to me, that scene is an implicit promise from the episode, to the audience: ‘it’ll be okay. it’s going to be hard, but ted isn’t alone, and his friends won’t leave him behind.’

it also makes it clear to the audience that ted isn’t the saintly-giver-of-grace who needs nothing in return, as one might assume on first brush, but rather that he’s Also struggling with his own shit (as is everyone, always, in real life!) and he has something he needs from the people around him too.

and looking at the text of s3, and the conclusion to his arc in the finale, i just don’t believe that he got it. he wasn’t just sad that he was leaving (which would be understandable!), he was completely closed off. unresponsive to the people around him reaching out, borderline confused as to why they were trying so hard!

(side note, while i completely respect the read of ted and trents last interaction being rather rude + ooc on ted’s part, i personally read a different motive into it. for me, it was more like… he didn’t understand where trents enthusiasm was coming from? like, he read that as trent being too invested in what other people think of him, and responded in a way that he hoped would emphasise that ted doesn’t *need* to laugh at everything trent wrote, bc trent Already Knows that he’s done something really cool and kickass, and he shouldn’t value anyone else’s reactions above that. basically, based on his demeanour in the episode, i genuinely don’t think it would’ve even occurred to him that trent was more invested in HIS reaction than he would’ve been with anyone else.)

again, looking purely at the text, the show had already established that ted has really strong depressive + avoidant tendencies, as well as panic attacks (largely triggered by his fear of not being ‘good enough’ in various roles, ie: a father). we saw one area he was able to calm HIMSELF abt these fears (worry for henry, which is a Hell of a choice considering the ending…), but in literally every other heightened moment, he had to rely on his support system to help him make the choices that he WANTED to make, rather than ones inspired by avoidance and fear (ie: confronting michelle abt jake, talking to his mum abt why she was visiting + his dads death).

and to be clear, this is a GOOD THING! we’re not supposed to go through life alone, no matter how bad OR well we’re doing. rebecca and keeleys friendship isn’t worth less for all the scenes where they’re both in good places. if anything, the opposite is true - it’s lovely that they both have someone who want to celebrate the achievements in their life!

and fuck it, we’re sure as hell not supposed to go through life with exactly one (1) person whom we expect to fulfill ALL of our emotional needs at all times either! like, im sure i don’t need to labour my point here, but tying everything to one (1) person in ur life doesn’t make u any less isolated than if u were going it completely alone, whether it’s a family member, a friend, or a partner. i won’t pretend to know the first thing abt what it’s like to be a parent, but i don’t think it’s unreasonable to say that no parent would be at their best if they had absolutely no support/camaraderie/general love provided to them from Anyone other than their child.

so when ted is SPECIFICALLY shown to be in a bad place, over and over again (did he come to terms w his fear to be close to henry overnight???????), and then removed from his community? of COURSE the audience is left feeling unsettled, and like the rug has been pulled out from under them. there was no time in this finale dedicated to how ted would still be in contact with anyone from richmond. no promises of visits, or phone calls - fuck, nothing about emails!! according to the text, we might as well assume this is a clean break (and the maybe-dream-sequence does Fuck All to assure us otherwise. if ted doesn’t go to beards wedding, what WOULD he go to????). and since the show has ALSO completely failed to give us even an IMPLICATION of who/what ted’s support system would be in kansas, there’s… a reasonable argument to be made that this is It for ted. that, after two seasons doing NOTHING but attesting otherwise, the audience is supposed to suddenly believe that ted can (and SHOULD!) pull himself up by his bootstraps, and cope entirely on his own.

that, to me, is a betrayal of the show’s premise. we were promised a show about how, no matter how dark things may get, none of the characters would be left to struggle alone. and then they ended the show with ted alone.

i don’t know. i guess if i had to give this post a tldr; if anyone has any gen fic/meta/Literally Anything in the pipeline, i would absolutely love to be tagged/directed towards it. i’ll be endeavouring to write something myself, as well, but it might take a while before i can return to my WIP, lol.

[igwmd-sghtkmt]

Do you have a full-out story or do you go by chapter?

Also, just a little gift for you, love your FF and wanted to try to draw how I thought the reader looked wearing the first outfit.

First off, I LOVE THE ART! THANK YOU SO MUCH! IT'S SO PRETTY!

As for your question, I have a basic plot in mind as well as some ideas of scenes I definitely want to have in the story. I also have redemption arcs for the characters. But overall I kind of just go chapter by chapter and let the story tell itself as I go, but sometimes the story tells itself in a way I didn't plan on.

For example, the reader was never meant to have a panic attack. But as I was writing it just just kind of ended up that way. Then, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, so I kept it in the story!

Wine also wasn't supposed to confess in chapter 13, but it kind of just happened as I wrote. Same with Edge attacking the reader the night they were revived and Red attacking the reader the next day.

Also, Cash was supposed to be the only one who had a girlfriend. But as I was writing the chapters and thought about how I wanted Stretch's redemption arc to go, I found out giving him a girlfriend as well would make it easier for me in the long run.

All in all, I have a basic plot(emphasis on basic), EXTREMELY loosely planned redemption arcs, a few plot points I know I'm going to add, and I let everything else come to me as I'm writing.

I usually only write one draft edit out grammatical errors that I missed, and then post. I rarely (if ever) write a first draft. I also write most chapters the same day I publish them so the fact that the story makes sense so far is kinda a miracle. Lol

If you have any more questions about my writing process or anything you're confused about in the story, or anything else, please send in another ask!

And again, THANK YOU FOR THE ART IT'S BEAUTIFUL !