#so he sometimes stims by wiping his hands on himself even when he has on the gloves

[f1zzlest1ckzz]

"why does your afton always wear gloves" well first and foremost its a sensory thing. he hates like 90% of textures so he wears leather gloves

(like these)

to mask the feeling of everything. and then, when he starts killing, it becomes a "i cant have my fingerprints on anything" paranoia thing. and also he doesn't like the feel of blood on his hands.

[draytnation]

I'm making ✨Headcanons✨ again this time with

Billy Knight

I am making a fic ATM but it isn't on Ralph, my brain cannot focus on one comfort character. But any ho

💧:He has many scars on his body from many things, s*lf harm, biting himself, scratches or marks from other things

💧: He has lots of night terrors, and sometimes wets the bed from them and frequently does so when the terrors come back.(Which is actually canon too/srs)

💧:He does canonically has Schizoid affective disorder, but doesn't take meds for it because he hasn't been able to seek or get proper help

💧:He has autism, and his main icks to things are shouting, flashing lights, and bad clothing textures

💧:He bites his fingers when his bored or nervous, leaving teeth marks all over them

💧:Has trust issues, and isolates himself a lot but is extremely touch/affection starved

💧:I feel like he's been in a bad relationship or two, since it seems he's constantly surrounded by toxic people his whole life

💧: He's been masking for years, and is rarely able to express himself correctly

💧:He also had an abusive father, and when he has his episodes he constantly remembers him

💧: He's lost hair before from stress, thankfully it regrows back easily but he also rarely takes care of it

💧:Talking about hygiene, his hygiene is horrible. He can go weeks or months on end without cleaning himself, and has rashes because of it, and his skin complexion is not the best

💧:He has fleas, definitely has fleas

💧:He smells like dirty pond water, balsamic vinegar, and fermented BO

💧:He needs a bath badly

💧:Was bullied alot when he was younger, even by his own brother and his friends

💧:His clothes nearly always irritate him, there always so baggy and they make his skin absolutely crawl

💧:His stims through hitting himself, hand flapping, repeating quotes from things he likes, Gnawing on things, humming, and rocking

💧:He tends to go nonverbal alot of the time due to everyday being so overstimulating for him

💧: He has insomnia, and has gone many nights without sleep

💧:He doesn't drink water alot, I mean the man barely even cares for himself so I doubt he would drink water

💧:He doesn't like the texture of soap, the sliminess of it bothers him greatly

💧:His comfort foods are Boston cream donuts and banana pudding, he really likes the foods with sweet creamy textures

💧:He doesn't wash his hands with soap, like this was a joke at first but guys I DONT THINK IT'S A JOKE ANYMORE

💧:He rubs his scalp with his fingers to calm himself down or when he's overstimulated

💧:He special interest is wood carving, He tries his best to carve his animals and figures and what not.

💧:He picks strands of his hairs out sometimes

💧:His favorite movie growing up was Robin hood, he would fantasize about stealing from the rich giving to the poor and having zero worries

💧:The closest thing he's ever had to a mother figure is Jimmy's ex wife, she would occasionally comfort him when he was having an episode, panic attack, or was overstimulate

💧:He basically swaddles himself when he sleeps to feel the touch he desperately yearns for

💧:He always sleeps facing towards the door

💧:His father would get on him for every little mistake, so if he evers breaks something or messes up he starts to profusely apologize with tears even forming in his eyes

💧:He hates the every about broccoli, the texture, smell, and ESPECIALLY taste. He hated having to eat them as a kid and would immediately throw them up after

💧:He has a lot of fears, Doctors, Thalassophobia, Abandonment, The Dark, Social situation, etc

💧:To Destimulate he locks himself in the bathroom and sits either on the floor or in the tub and let's loose

💧:When he's overstimulated he pulls on his hair, and feels like his skin is crawling, and in the show he constantly does a little fidget of some sort where he roughly kinda wipes under his nose idk how to explain it but if you seen the show you know what I'm talking about

💧:He also has scars on his hands because he's accidentally cut himself with the chiseler before

💧: Nearly to never makes eye contact unless the person notices he isn't

💧:Also I know he can do some awesome parkour, in the show man's hopped of a building down to crates like it was nothing

💧:Idk but I have a feeling Jimmy has hit him before, like he still cares about him and all cause y'know brothers, but there's just one occasion where Jimmy's temper is worser than usual and he just snaps. Jimmy dore try his best to apologize after, but nonetheless Billy gets put up with alot.

💧:He finds it soothing when someone runs there fingers through his hair, especially if someone were to put there hand on his cheek, he would absolutely melt in your hands

💧:He will shy away from affection at first, but ya gotta warm up to him first till he finds you safe enough to trust

Well that's definitely enough Hc's for today, I do have a fic cooking up for Billy rn, but imma post that later. if y'all got any requests for Billy send em in, I advise you watch the show he's in cause it's pretty good, idk why my brain keeps hoping from person to person tho. I'm strangely contemplating if I should ever make smut with his character . Cause I love the little man to death

[im-frickin-trying-okay]

Random Haikyuu Headcanons

(But they're based on things I do/have done/want to do.)

Summary: Heyyyy, I know I disappeared, sorry about that. My motivation isn't exactly consistent, but I thought I'd at least put out something lol 😅 As I said above, these headcanons are all loosely based off of myself, so I guess this is also kind of an introduction? Enjoy!

Ushijima doesn't understand slang at all, to the point where it's painful for him and everyone around him. After long enough, he assumed it was just a language that he didn't understand that people casually insert into their normal speech. After coming to that conclusion, he felt somewhat hurt that everyone acted like he was supposed to know what they were saying. He learned Greek just to fuck with everybody.

Kenma has a playlist of very agressive music; not any particular genre, just anything he can find that sounds extremely angry. He listens to it when he's playing Animal Crossing, and he always seems very calm and content while doing so. No one other than Kuroo is aware of this.

Nishinoya has a curtain instead of a closet door. When he was very, very little, he was told that a curtain makes it harder for the monster in the closet to hide. It made him feel safe at the time, so he never decided to change it.

Hinata was once told he couldn't ride on a particular roller coaster because he didn't meet the height requirement. He was six at the time. He's still scared that it's gonna happen again someday, even though he's definitely taller than he was when he was six.

Akaashi had a FNaF phase, and he still listens to the songs sometimes. When they get stuck in his head, he gets legitimately embarrassed if he catches himself singing them, even more so if someone else does. Bokuto was very concerned when he walked in the room to hear, "Something's crawling through the vent. That's fine. Uh-oh."

Kuroo is great at balancing chemical equations, and he can do complex math easily, but if you ask him to multiply double-digit numbers in his head, it takes him a while to provide an answer. Not that he can't do math, of course - He's great at it, actually. But the simple stuff he hasn't had to review for years? And to do it mentally?? Just give him a minute

Tsukki is still very entertained by those little capsules that you put in water to grow a dinosaur.

Oikawa waves at the cameras in grocery stores, even the ones that don't have monitors for you to look at yourself in. Like, this dude will walk around under the camera until he sees where the lens is, so he can wave at it. He's been doing this since he was a toddler, and he doesn't plan on stopping.

Terushima flirts with himself in the mirror. When people catch him, he makes some random comment about self-love, but really, he's just low-key afraid he'll forget how to do social interaction if he's alone for too long.

Atsumu needs quiet in order to focus. It applies to things other than just volleyball, and it's somewhat difficult to maintain. Osamu, on the other hand, actually tends to listen to music when he really needs to focus on something. Upon meeting them, most people think it'd be the opposite, but they end up surprising people with it.

Bokuto walks in circles around his house while singing MLP fan songs.

Tanaka keeps his old phones. When he gets a new one, he deactivates the old one, but doesn't wipe it. That way, he doesn't loose anything that may have been on it. He actually has a shelf dedicated to old phones, which thoroughly confuses anyone else who sees it.

Tendou has a collection of fidget toys and stim toys, and it's honestly getting concerning at this point. Anywhere you take him, he'll keep an eye out, and if he sees something that even looks like it could function as a fidget, he'll get it. He once bought an entire soap dispenser for the little plastic sponge that it came with.

Yachi uses a sound machine to sleep at night, but then found that it can actually function as a speaker. Since then, she's gotten a lot of happiness out of playing her "listen when it's raining" playlist while actually listening to rain sounds.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

For Kauri and Chris: it doesn't work as well as you hoped, does it?

(follows Time Apart)

CW: Former pet whumpee, past noncon references, fucky headspace around consent and SERIOUSLY misconstrued response to assault, some hardcore angst going on here, internalized victim-blaming

Chris feels fingers move through his hair, gently sweeping the shaggy copper to one side, and opens his eyes to see Kauri leaning over him. His wide blue eyes are warm, understanding.

"I saw Laken leave," Kauri says, gentle, and sits next to where Chris has curled up on his side on his bed. His fingers continue to run through Chris's hair, tingling over his scalp, a soft and subtle reassurance, words he doesn't have to hear. You are good, you are a good boy. "You want to tell me what happened?"

Chris closes his eyes again, turning his face to his sheets, to the faint scent of laundry detergent and the soft rustle of them against his skin. He tries not to see Laken's face, reddened and wet with tears, as they walked away. "We, we broke up."

Kauri's fingers pause - and then start up again, the moment so barely-there that even Chris almost misses it. "You broke up? Did they break up with you, or you with them?"

"Um. I, I, I thought they broke up with, um, with with me but then when they came over, they hadn't? But we just-... I, I broke... I broke up with them." His voice trembles, throat threatening to close up around the words, and he exhales, rocking himself forward and back where he lays, rubbing his hands reflexively over the seams of his pants, seeking out the soothing feeling of the texture there. "I told them I, I, I can't be with them anymore. I made them go."

This can't be the end, Chris. Not like this. Laken looked like he'd slapped them, their face pale and red both at once, eyes wide, dark pools demanding he take it back. This can't be the end of the line for us.

Then, then, then what is? Just, just go. I don't-... I don't, don't, don't want this any longer, for you. You shouldn't-... I, I, I'm... just go home, Laken. You shouldn't, shouldn't have, have wanted a whore anyway.

Chris. You know you're not-

I know I am! I, I, I almost had-... I almost-... I almost cheated on you last night!

Laken had swallowed, lips barely moving. You what?

I let, I, I, I let someone touch me, and it felt good, you know? It felt good. I, I, I got-... I, I got turned on by it. Like a fucking- He'd heard Handler Petrus in his mind, felt him against his back, the weight and heat of him, whispering into his ear while he sobbed. I'm still just a fucking slut. I'm, I'm, I'm still what I was, and it won't ever stop and-... just fucking go, Laken! Just get out and, and, and and and and-... and, and-

Chris, please-

Just fucking go home!

Chris-... baby, god damn it, I don't care if you-

But I do! Get the fuck away from me!

They'd left. Chris had listened to their footsteps running down the stairs and out the door, heard their car pull out of the driveway, and he'd cried into his pillow until it was damp, until he couldn't hear their car any longer. His phone buzzed twice, a text from Ben and another one from Akio, but he didn't answer.

He didn't answer when they called after that.

He didn't answer Jake calling to him from downstairs, he didn't answer Antoni in the doorway, he didn't answer any of them at all. He just stayed right here, on his bed, and knocked his head into a pillow he held against the wall until he calmed down enough to stop.

And then he cried more.

His head pounds, a dull throb, and he feels dried out from all the tears. Like he'd been crusted with salt, like his professor who told the story about Lot's wife and Orpheus and Eurydice. Don't look back or you'll turn to salt, you'll go back down into the empty places alone.

He can't not look back.

He groans, smacking himself on the thighs reflexively, repeatedly, as if he can stop his thoughts that way.

Kauri doesn't try to stop him, only pulls his hand back to give Chris the space to move. "Did you want to break up with them?" He asks, simply. His voice is calm.

"No. Yes. I, I don't know." The seams of his pants aren't enough, and Chris breathes against the sense of a chaos inside of himself, a swirling mix of self-hatred and grief. His hands move up to tap on his stomach. Finger-twist-tap-tap-tap. It doesn't help as much as he needs it to. "I didn't... want them to, to, to have to be with me."

"I think Laken is capable of making that choice for themself." Kauri sits slowly back against the headboard, breathing out, his eyes moving over the messy contents of the bedroom. The pictures Chris has taped haphazardly up on the walls, the shelf with his stim toys on it, his computer on the desk half-buried in a pile of clean clothes he hasn't folded. "If they want to be with you, that's their decision. Do you want to be with them?"

Chris wants to say yes, but the word sticks in his throat. His heart pounds inside him, all out of rhythm. He just nods against his sheets, and feels Kauri brush fingers through his hair again. "But, but, but, but I'm, I'm not worth it, I'm t-too hard, I'm still a, a, a pet too much."

There's a silence. Then, "Is that what you really think?"

He'd love to be able to say no. He'd love to be able to say he's being dramatic. But instead, in a small, soft voice, Chris whispers, "I just. I just. I, I, I don't know a-any-anymore. I... Yes."

Kauri is quiet, and then his hands are on Chris's face, wiping away with his thumb a tear Chris hadn't even realized had escaped. Chris had flinched from the same gesture when Laken did it, but he holds for Kauri.

"Oh, honey. I used to think that, too." Kauri sighs, and Chris opens his eyes, looking up at him, seeing a faraway expression.

He shifts, moving to rest his head on Kauri's thigh, a silent request for the petting through his hair to begin again.

Kauri smiles, a little faintly, a little sad. His fingers move over Chris's scalp, settle over the top of his scar, start again. "I did that for years, Chris. I told myself I was a pet, just another Romantic, that I deserved everything I did to myself and I didn't deserve anything better. I woke up in alleyways and on park benches and sometimes in the beds of guys I couldn't remember meeting. I got... I got hurt by some of them, and I told myself it was what I wanted. I got drugged a few times, I drugged myself a bunch more. I tried to make myself not want to be cared about anymore."

Chris thinks about the taste of gin and olives down his throat, throwing back dirty martinis until he threw them back up again, until he couldn't stop hearing Sir's voice inside his head, feeling his lips against the back of his neck. Hands on his hips, phantom ghost touch, moving him into position.

"It... didn't work as well as I'd hoped. Every time I told myself I didn't deserve love, even when I believed it... that didn't mean I didn't still want it. Need it, even. But I wanted, so badly-..." Kauri's voice catches, and his eyes close, briefly, as he steadies himself. "I wanted to make sure everyone around me hated me as much as I hated myself. But God, Chris, it hurts so much to live that way. Don't... don't be like me. It took me years to realize I didn't deserve that pain, that I didn't deserve to be punished for leaving Owen."

Chris is silent, now. Kauri's voice is always almost hypnotizing, deep and a little melodic, and it settles some of the buzzing awful noise inside of him.

"I had to learn-... to accept... that what happened to me makes up a lot of who I am, because it was the thing that made me, but it isn't all of who I am. And if I keep repeating the patterns I came up with to protect myself... I'm not really protecting myself at all." Kauri smiles, a little. "I'm only laying siege to myself, and I'm the only one who starves inside the walls. I-... I built those walls, and Jake kept trying to knock them down, and I kept building them higher. And Nat would throw food over the wall, and I'd throw it back. And... I think I got a little off track. My point is that... is that I shattered myself, over and over again, because shattered is what I was taught to be. But eventually I had to admit that breaking myself into pieces was just cutting me up, not anyone else. Do you understand?"

Chris swallows, his throat opening a little bit, and he hums. Kauri's leg is warm against his ear and his cheek, his hand is warm over his hair. Chris grips onto the silicone feather he wears always on a cord around his neck and runs it over his lips, feeling the carved vanes move against thin, sensitive skin. "Kind of."

"You try to see the light in everything," Kauri says, and the love in his voice makes Chris smile despite all his pain. "That's always been what made you stronger than me, Chris. You saw the world as full of good things you were here to discover. You never hated yourself like I did. I don't want you to start now."

"How... how did you, um, did you learn to to to stop?"

Another long exhale. Outside, two birds are singing in the trees. "Time, mostly," Kauri says, finally. "And... that guy I went home with once, when I came back all... fucked up. Remember that?"

"Y, yeah."

"I realized... I realized, when Jake was helping me up the stairs, that every time I tried to push him away, he was still there. And every time I hurt him, or Nat, or Antoni, they were still there. And that you were-... you were so new, Chris, and I was teaching you this really awful idea that you can't get better, and I couldn't do that any longer. I couldn't. It's not instant, and there are backslides, and some days getting out of bed is the hardest thing I've ever done. But I do, because I love the life I've made, and I know you love yours. You worked so hard for this, Chris, for everything you are and you've done since you came to live with Nat. Don't give that up because... because you're struggling. Don't let them win by convincing you you can't be anything else."

"I'm so-... it feels like a shell," Chris says, and pushes himself up to sitting, legs out to one side, tucking his head into the crook of Kauri's neck. The older man's arms move around his waist, holding him close, one hand moving up to keep stroking through his hair as he bites down on the feather, chewing on the familiar plastic. "Like I, I, I built a shell, and when Nova-... it cracked."

"Yeah. I know how that feels." Kauri turns his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Chris's hair, easy and comfortable. Chris hums around his feather, rocking just a little. The rising tide of grief inside him threatens to become a wave he can't withstand. He pushed Laken away, too far away, he made them leave him.

He broke up with them.

He made them go.

He can't take that back.

"Listen to me," Kauri whispers, lips against his scalp. "When I was at my lowest, when I hated myself the most, when I demanded Jake abandon me to what I kept telling myself I wanted... he didn't. He was still there. He was still there, and even if we weren't going to be together, he was still willing to help me stand up as a friend. When I was nothing but pieces drawing blood, he still loved me. He loved the pieces as much as the person, and he helped me put myself back together. It's not perfect. It's not overnight. And you'll still have hard days. But it's worth it, Chris."

"Why? Why, why, why is it worth it?"

"Because the world is beautiful," Kauri says, repeating his own long-ago words back to him, and Chris almost smiles. "Because I love the world, now, Chris, and I decided to try as hard as I can to love myself. I learned that from you."

"What if-... what if, if, if it's too late? What if I can't t-talk to them, or-"

"Then we'll stand you back up from there, and start moving forward again. You'll never lose us, we're family, Chris. But I think you should talk to Laken, and tell them what you're feeling, and let them decide how to react instead of deciding for them. They love you." Kauri puts a hand under his chin and lifts it, so their eyes meet. "Let them love you hurting just as much as they do when you're not."

"What if I don't... want to try any longer?"

"Then we'll be here to help you through that, too. All of it. Any of it. For better or worse, Chris, I'm your big brother - and so is Jake, and so is Antoni - and you're stuck with us whether you like it or not."

Chris tucks his head back down so Kauri can't see the tears well back up and run down, even as they soak into his shirt. His teeth grind down on the silicone plastic between them.

"I, I, I fucked up, Kauri," he whimpers, and then starts to sob. "I didn't-... I, I, I just don't w-want to be in m-my body anymore..."

Kauri holds him close.

"I h-hate it, I hate it, I hate it," Chris wails, and Kauri rests his chin on Chris's head and lets him cry. "I hate being p-pretty, I hate my, my, my, I hate that they made my body like this, I hate that I g-get scared and and and, and, and I can't stop things from happening to me, I h-hate that I hurt Laken, I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it!"

"I know," Kauri whispers. "I know, honey. I know."

"I h-hate myself-"

"Sssshhhh, I know."

Chris doesn't know how long he cries for.

But eventually he falls asleep in Kauri's arms.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

Playlist for this piece:

Lewis Capaldi: Hold Me While You Wait Rob Thomas: Pieces Vienna Teng: Between Aerelie Brighton: Breathe Josh Ritter: Girl in the War Beth Crowley: Runaway Train

[lynnpaper]

Hey, do you mind doing “You have to stay awake. Come on, give my hand a squeeze.” with Ahsoka and Anakin? Thank you!

ah, thank you for the ask! 💕

(from these prompts)

That’s a lot of blood.

It’s the only thought searing through his head as he watches Ahsoka fall, his heart in his throat, crumpling onto the ground when a piece of shrapnel from the exploding tank catches her on the side of the head. Two inches to the left and it would have hit her between the eyes.

Head wounds bleed a lot.

The thought is not as reassuring as it should be.

He runs, the distance between him and his padawan far too long. Battle instinct has him reaching for his comm and yelling for a medic, anyone, a stretcher or medical attention or a medpack or a kriffing stim-shot—

She’s so much smaller curled up on the ground. Her lightsabers have slipped out of her grasp and rolled a few feet to her side, still warm from being used mere seconds ago.

Ahsoka rolls onto her back, something warm and wet sliding down the side of her head. She reaches up on instinct and her fingers comes away bloody.

Oh, that’s not good.

She hears her name shouted in a familiar voice, but the sound is muffled. Her montrals ring and throb with each of her pounding heartbeats. With great difficulty, she turns her head to the side, realising too late that she’s pressing her bloody temple further into the ground and trying not to cry out, and there’s Anakin, looking far too worried and yelling something into a comm—

Oh, that’s not good either.

“Master,” she croaks. She tries to push herself up, but her arms give out and she winces as a sharp pain stabs into the side of her head. The discomfort burns into dizziness. She should probably close her eyes, then—Master Kenobi once told her that closing your eyes sometimes makes the dizziness go away—

“Ahsoka,” Anakin says frantically. He kneels by her side and she reaches for him, her fingers bloody. “Ahsoka! No, no—”

In the distance, he can hear combat boots on the ground, can sense the familiar life forms approaching him where he crouches over a small, broken body.

“Hey, Snips,” Anakin says desperately. He takes her hand, not caring that there’s blood smeared all over her palm. “Ahsoka. Hey.”

Ahsoka mumbles something incoherent. Her eyes are beginning to slip shut, but it only takes a glance to see that her pupils are blown.

“Ahsoka, you have to stay awake,” Anakin says, his voice breaking. “Come on, give my hand a squeeze.”

She doesn’t.

“We’re gonna go home now,” Anakin says softly. He doesn’t know if she can hear him. Her eyelids flutter, her brow furrowing in pain, but she gives no indication of whether she can even feel his fingers pressing into her wrist, curling around her fist like he can somehow keep her here, conscious in the present, if he holds her tight enough.

“You’re going to be okay,” He doesn’t recognise his own voice, the way it hurts to get the words out. “Stay awake, Snips. You’re going to be okay.”

If he says it enough, maybe it will come true.

No one has her determination.

“Kix is gonna fix you up, okay?” Anakin says. He’s rambling now, but maybe she can hear him and maybe he’s the only one keeping her from slipping, and if his voice stops her from giving in to her concussion then he will not stop talking until someone drags him away from her by the throat.

“Come on, Snips. Don’t go to sleep yet. Hey.” Her head lolls to the side, blood seeping into the hard ground, and her grip goes slack in his.

Anakin squeezes her hand again. Ahsoka doesn’t squeeze back.

The footsteps grow nearer, until Anakin hears the sound of heavy breaths and rattling armour, blasters knocking against plastisteel.

“General, I need you to move aside,” Kix says firmly, placing himself between Anakin and Ahsoka. He’s holding a medpack in one hand and a stim-shot in the other. He gracelessly nudges Anakin away to clear space for himself and hit equipment, and stabs the hypodermic unceremoniously into Ahsoka’s neck. She doesn’t so much as flinch.

Anakin hopes Kix adjusted the dosage for a child.

“I’m staying with her,” Anakin says, and if the situation wasn’t so dire, Kix would have found that stupidly stubborn edge to his voice endearing, seeing how protective the General is of the young Commander. But this is not the time for sweet reassurance and heroics. There is a child bleeding on the ground and he cannot do his job unless the General moves out of the way—

Rex shakes his head at Anakin. His helmet hides his expression, but Anakin knows it is probably disappointment written all over his usually stoic features.

“As the team medic,” Kix says softly, “When it comes to the health of the men—including you, General—I outrank everyone.”

Anakin gazes down at Ahsoka, at the blood covering the side of her face. The urge to protect screams at him to stay. He needs to be here if—when—she wakes up; needs to be here to offer comfort in the first few seconds of terrifying disorientation.

But a voice that sounds suspiciously like Obi-Wan’s whispers at him to leave. That Kix is of far, far better use than him now, and Kix knows what he’s doing—Anakin doesn’t. That he’s done all that he can, which may not be much, but it’s not his place to decide who goes and stays by her side—not when his padawan is bleeding from her head and the basic first-aid lesson from his days in the creche are of no use here.

Anakin presses his lips to her temple, feels her pulse thrumming fast but steady.

Ahsoka squeezes his hand. His shock is drowned out by his relief.

I heard you, she seems to say, even in her state of semi-consciousness. I will be okay.

“Okay,” Anakin says quietly. He moves away reluctantly, allowing Kix to lift her onto a stretcher.

His stomach twists when Kix wipes at the blood on her face and Ahsoka cries out, a hand lurching out to grasp at nothing—but then Kix takes it, wrapping her fingers in his gloved ones, and she goes silent again.

Anakin wishes it was him instead, there to offer reassurance when she needs him the most. It’s a selfish thought.

Later, when she rests on a bed in the Halls of Healing with a bacta patch over the gash on her temple, Anakin takes her hand again, clasping it between both of his. Her chest rises and falls slowly. He wishes he never had to fear it will stop. How many more times must he see her pushed to the brink and pulled back mere seconds before she can fall?

Ahsoka makes a soft little noise, the sheets rustling as she shifts, the uninjured side of her head pressing into the pillow.

Anakin squeezes her hand.

She squeezes back.

[www-artforoddballs]

Autistic Levi Angst...kinda, I guess? This is him having a meltdown. It's angst/fluff/brotherly love.

Okay so from my personal experience, meltdowns often lead to full-on panic attacks. I'm writing Levi from the perspective of having very similar autistic traits to myself, as I relate very much to this man, and I can only speak for myself when it comes to autism. This isn't true for everyone with autism, nor should it be taken as a blanket statement.

Now with THAT out of the way...!

It was a good day. Leviathan was having a GOOD day. Everything was going well! He just got a new Ruri-Chan figurine, Mammon had paid him back (some of) his money, and he was super energized! He was excited, too...a convention in the human world, in Japan too! He was pumped! Only one problem...

See, when Levi goes to concerts, he always has to make sure that he either gets front row or balcony tickets. If he doesn't do so...well, it hasn't ended well in the past. But when he does that, it goes well and he has a good time! However, it's been a while since he's gone to a convention.

Conventions weren't anywhere as organized as concerts were. There weren't specific seats, it was just humans, demons, and angels alike all packed togrther to try and see everything that they'd want to see. Levi had rented a stall, and so it was okay at first...well, not really, but since he was already okay he could push through it with the help of a stim toy!

But then came the looks. And the judgemental stares. The whispers. Even more people packing into the venue like sardines...his head started swimming in frenzied panic. It was too much; too many people, too much noise, too much judgment.

And so he ran. He ran into a bathroom and holed himself up in a stall, rocking back and forth in an attempt to self soothe. He let out a sob, shakily using his hand to wipe away seemingly endless tears. The more he thought, the worse it got.

What were they thinking about me? Were they judging me? Of course they were, I shouldn't have expected any differently. I'm a stupid, smelly otaku, and that's all people will ever see me as...! I should have never come here.

His thoughts worsened as he began to completely break down and rake his nails through his skin, continuing to sob and shake. He couldn't do this, who was he kidding? He didn't deserve to be here. He didn't deserve to exist.

He got so lost in his own head that he didn't even notice as he was removed from the stall by Mammon and Beelzebub. He didn't notice their worried faces or their attempts to talk to him. There was only ringing in his ears as he focused on the negative, and how fried yet frenzied his brain was.

"...ey...!"

Finally, he processed something enough to look up through the violent ringing.

"Levi...! Hey!" Mammon exclaimed, gently cupping his little brothers face to make him focus.

"We're here, alright? Everythin' is gonna be okay...listen to my voice, okay? Can you talk?"

Levi tried to speak, but only a pained sob came out as he shook his head.

"Okay, that's okay. Just nod in response to my questions, okay? Do you wanna go home?"

Levi weakly nodded, continuing to cry and shake.

Beel frowned, hating to see his older brother like this.

"Do you want a hug...?" He gently asked, nervous that he would make things worse. However, a sigh of relief emitted from his mouth as Levi nodded, the firey-haired demon gently enveloping Levi in a hug.

"Everything is gonna be okay, we're here for you..." He gently muttered, Mammon nodding in agreement.

"We're gonna get you home. Focus on my voice and on breathing for right this second though. We're all gonna be okay."

After a while, Levi managed to calm his nerves enough to the point where he could stand and speak.

"...thank you..." He quietly muttered, sniffing.

"Hey, we're your brothers. We aren't gonna let you suffer..."

Levi looked at Mammon gratefully, a few stray tears still rolling down his cheeks.

"But...how did...?" Levi trailed off in confusion.

"We uh...followed you. I wanted to try some convention food and Mammon had a bad feeling, so I also got concerned for you...so we followed you up. I'm sorry...but I'm glad we did, now," Beel replied to his unspoken question, gently rubbing the shorter males back.

"I'll order us some takeout, okay? On me. No payback, no nothing....we can also watch some anime in your room, alright?" Mammon spoke up after a bit of silence.

"But...you don't like anime, Mammon...you don't have to hang out with a shitty otaku like me, I get that I-"

"Hey, stop it. If I didn't want to watch anime, I wouldn't have offered...and you're right, it's not my thing. But I know you like it, and right now..." A blush of embarrassment fell on the tan demon. "...I just want you to know that I care about ya. I care about your feelings, even if I don't act like it most of the time. I just want ya to feel okay, and safe, and loved. And if that's what I've gotta do to help you? I'm more than willing to do it."

Beel nodded. "I can ask Luke to make some treats from that new food anime you're obsessed with, too. He'll probably be willing to help out."

Levi managed to smile...even if they annoyed him and didn't really understand him sometimes...he knew his family loved him for how he was. And he loved them too.

[plush-rabbit]

Inasa Yoarashi + Hits

A/N: Guess who simped after watching comp videos. I hope I did it correctly. I think I did it more as a stim thing than a tic so yeah.

The first time you see Inasa hit himself, you’re turning around, looking as shocked as you can while everyone else just goes about their day. You’ve never really seen himself do it and while you have your own tics, they aren’t as harsh as his. 

You scramble to grab at his hand, unfurling his hand and asking if he’s hurt but he has this wide grin and says that he’s perfectly fine even and when you comment on the blood that leaks, he just goes “huh” and wipes it off and then just starts to go on about his day. He acts like he’s fine and doesn’t act as if he’s injured but he notices how you continue to fret over him.

He’s just a really passionate person. Sometimes his hyperactivity just takes over and he has to stim and he knows it’s probably not the healthiest way to hand a stim or tic, but it’s the quickest way to get him to just let it all out. He promises that he’s fine- the punch doesn’t hurt all that much, he swears it- scout’s honor and all. 

It calms you down a bit knowing he isn’t in any actual pain but it’s still nerve wracking to see. He’s still hurting himself so you try to anticipate when he’s about to do it. You start to notice all the little things that lead up to it. You notice as high voice raises in tone, the little bounce of his heels as he tries to contain himself and as his thirst curls, you hold onto his arm and bounce with him, trying to match his energy.

He really appreciates it. He still has that burst of energy that doesn’t go away but it isn’t as consuming as he thought it was when you’re around. He likes it when you try to match his energy, to try to build up the hype and bounce on your heels or flap your hands. He’ll hold your hand tight and speak out loud and once you two are alone, he pulls you in for a tight hug.

He will admit- proudly- that he likes how you worry over him. Your rapid hands that glide over his face, pressing softly against the bones and looking at him with worry and he feels bad for making you worry, but you’re much more brazen with your touch, rapidly moving over him and pressing a kiss against him.

He isn’t hurt when he hits himself. It’s a dull pain at most and the blood doesn’t mean much but if you’re worried seeing him punch himself, then he’ll do his best to control it. At least when you’re around. He can’t make any promises to stopping himself when you aren’t there to distract him from it but he’s definitely holding himself still as you come up to him.

The reaction from you is always the same. Even if he's told you that it doesn’t hurt and his friends can confirm that he’s fine, you still worry over him. You’ll hold his hand and brush your fingers or lips over his knuckles and hold an ice pack against his face or dap at his nose and pout as it stains with red. You peck at the faded bruise- even when he hits himself, bruises don’t seem to last for more than an hour or two- and peck at it lightly.

He thinks your reactions are the worst. He knows you don’t don’t disapprove and you don’t judge him, but he doesn’t like seeing you worry over him. He promises that he’s fine- the bruise doesn't even hurt if you press on it- it’s just a thing he does. He’ll give you a wide grin and start to comfort you, making you laugh at the whole ordeal and once explained, he’s also laughing.

Inasa is really sweet. And he has a lot of passion so he’s just loud about everything that he likes that it’s hard to keep it contained so he just can’t help but express it. After a while, you do seem to calm down with your concerns, only making him promise to tell you if it does hurt. He keeps the promise and will often tell a fib that it does hurt only to get you to kiss him.

[siren1song]

@acanvasofabillionsuns​

Finally Got It

Summary: Remus isn't good with sappy, romantic words but he's gonna do his damnedest to overcome that for Patton.

Warnings: None I’m aware of.

Pairing: Intruality

Word Count: 2,095

General Taglist: @emo-disaster​, @greenninjagal-blog​, @jungle321jungle​, @sleepy-sides​, @gattonero17​, @another-sandersidesblog​, @strawberryjellystuff​, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit​, @gr3ml1n-loser​, @main-chive​, @firey-alex​, @spooky-scary-virgil​, @yalltookmyurlideas​, @sanderssidesweirdo​, @stormypaint​, @just-a-little-bit-gay-oops​, @dying-is-a-hobby​, @the-angry-child​

Intruality Taglist: @jessibbb​

Notes: Really loving these songs + ship requests :D also i am definitely considering this an early birthday present to myself.

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

Remus, despite being a writer, wasn’t really the best with his words.

At least, not when it came to romance he wasn’t. Being a horror novelist did nothing in the sappy department and he tended to have more skill in sex than he did in being romantic.

And yet… Patton still loved him. He giggled at his porn jokes and powered through his horror hyperfixation with a smile and a reminder to eat and drink water while he researched. It was honestly amazing how well they could work together.

That isn’t to say they haven’t had their problems of course. When they first met, Patton was so unsettled by Remus that he outright avoided interactions with him.

It had hurt and there was a long trial of them getting closer and Remus would always remember the first time Patton laughed at one of his sexual jokes (it had been a pun, and Remus learned that puns were basically the way to his heart).

God he loved that man so much.

Enough to try and write a stupid sappy love letter  on their third anniversary because Patton was the sappiest romantic Remus had ever met, even worse than his own brother, and he wanted to make him get that bubbly smile he wore when he watched romcoms like they were the best cinematic invention to grace the screen.

Fucking hell, Patton really was too cute to handle sometimes.

But again, Remus was really bad with being romantic in the traditional sense. He didn’t like the smell of roses so he either avoided the flowers or gave Patton dead ones. Then there was the fact he was allergic to chocolate so he couldn’t even consider getting Patton that because then he’d have to go a whole day, possibly longer, without kissing his boyfriend and Remus may be strong but no man who had a similar strength in desire for affection like him could handle that.

Sometimes he just wanted Patton to smother him in kisses and make him break down into wheezy cackling that made his heart overflow with love and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

With a small groan, Remus let his head fall back against the wall, the document on his laptop only having six words on the screen because he just… wasn’t sure how to continue the stupid letter.

“Squid?” Patton called, peering over the counter cutting between the living room and the kitchen, an eyebrow lifted and his smile lopsided in his concern.

“Doing fine, Pat. Just having a hard time thinking.”

“Is this about the thing you asked Roman about the other day?”

Remus cleared his throat a little bit, stubbornly continuing to look at the ceiling so Patton couldn’t see how his face was starting to redden.

“Kinda, yeah,” he answered, tapping his fingers on the corners of his laptop where he wouldn’t risk pressing buttons.

Patton went quiet for a second, and the next thing Remus knew he was thwapped in the temple with a paper ball.

Confusion and amusement distracted Remus from his embarrassment, and he looked at Patton with his own raised eyebrow while he searched for the paper ball with one hand.

When he found it, he brought it to eye level and looked away from his boyfriend to see… a wad of paper terribly decorated like a pokeball.

“What?” he asked his confusion and amusement both increasing as he looked at his now grinning boyfriend.

“Anniversary is coming up. Figured I’d give you your first hint on what I’ll be doing,” was Patton’s answer, which he punctuated with a wink.

Oh God, Remus was so in love with this dork

“With your hint given though, I’m gonna go back to planning my class for the week. Teaching kindergarten is rough work and all that,” Patton joked, blowing a kiss Remus’ way before he hid himself back in his office.

As serious as the word “office” sounded, Patton really had it full of stim toys, children’s toys and bad art and crayons. Said it put him in the environment he needed to get stuff done.

Remus was pretty sure he also just liked playing with the toys, but he couldn’t really fault him for it. Patton was very good at having a childish imagination and Remus loved him for it.

Not the only reason why he loved him, but it was a pretty big one.

If he had to list every reason Remus chose Patton as a lifelong partner, he’d be here… a while.

Chose.

Looking back at the paper pokeball, Remus tilted his head in thought, his brother’s words from the week before coming back to him.

”Look if you want to be sappy just… pick something that reminds you of him and build a metaphor linking it to him and how much you love him. Usually what I do with Janus.”

Hmm… He could work with that.

With a glance back to the doc on his screen, he backed out of four of the six words, set the paper pokeball down on the coffee table where he could look at it between focus bursts of writing and remember just how much he loved his boyfriend, and then got to work.

“Okay Pat the Cat, please tell me you’re not leading me into a cave where I have to outsmart an axe murderer because writing about horror and surviving horror are two different things and dying on our anniversary is not something I want to do.”

Patton giggled, and Remus could tell he was rolling his eyes, even if it was playfully.

“I’m flattered that you think I could get someone to kill for me-”

“You can? I’m right here.”

“Hush you. No, we’re not even in a cave right now? What made you think cave?”

Remus paused, looking in his boyfriend’s general direction, his sight hindered by a blindfold.

“We’re doing a lot of climbing, babe.”

Patton let out an ugly snort, pulling at Remus’ hand to urge him into moving again.

“We’re not going to a cave housing an axe murderer, Remus. Actually, we’re almost there! You’re gonna have to keep close to me though, I don’t want you running into a tree.”

With a fond sigh, Remus let himself be pulled just a little bit closer to Patton and kept himself there without tripping over his boyfriend’s heels.

Not long and Patton gently guided Remus to a stop and pulled him in for a chaste kiss.

He pulled off the blindfold while their lips were locked, and by the time Remus was blinking his eyes open, he felt kind of dumb for only writing Patton a letter because now they were in a clearing big enough to have a picnic blanket on the ground and there were cardboard cutouts of pokemon hanging from the trees.

It was clear Patton put a lot of work into this, and a sappy love letter felt a little inadequate compared to this.

“Do you like it? I remembered you talking about your special interest in the series when you were little and I know sometimes you still like watching the show and you always get the newest games so I just… figured it would be cute to give you something like this after three years of being together.”

Remus didn’t say anything, going up to the Trubbish cutout and lifting it a bit to get a better look.

After a second he looked at another cutout that had a Grimer on it. And another with a Weezing.

“Squid?” Patton asked, a bit of concern in his tone that made Remus turn to face him again.

“Oh honey…” he whispered, coming closer to Remus with his hands outstretched until they were on Remus’ face, thumbs wiping away tears Remus hadn’t even realized he was crying.

With a sniffle and a weak laugh, Remus covered one of Patton’s hands with his own.

“I’m fine. I just… got overwhelmed with how much I love you. You remembered all of my favorite pokemon?”

Patton’s concerned frown turned into an adoring smile.

“Of course! Pokemon is a really easy franchise to get into. There’s so many pokemon with names that are puns! And you get really excited when you talk about it, how could I not remember that?”

Remus kind of wanted to marry this man. Which wasn’t really a thought he had before but it didn’t exactly catch him off guard either.

“All this kinda makes my gift pale in comparison. If we didn’t have a no expensive gifts rule I absolutely would have done better,” he said, thinking to some of the things Patton has gushed over to make teaching his kids so much easier and more fun.

Patton scrunched up his face in distaste, shaking his head.

“Nope! Whatever you did, I’m sure it’s just as good. No self deprecation on our anniversary, mister.”

Snorting, Remus pecked Patton’s nose.

“Alright, alright fine. I’m gonna take a guess though that that picnic basket is full of food and if so I would very much like to eat after giving you your gift.”

“Why yes it is! C’mon, let’s sit down.”

Remus pulled the envelope with his letter out of his back pocket and sat down with his boyfriend, handing it to him before opening the basket so he could ignore his nerves and look at what Patton had prepared for them.

Things were quiet. Not silent, couldn’t be with the sounds of the woods surrounding them and Remus messing with the food containers trying not to watch Patton while he read the letter.

His nerves got worse with each second Patton read and didn’t say anything.

And then finally—

“You wrote this?” Patton whispered, voice hoarse with barely held back tears that Remus could see brimming in his eyes when he looked up.

“Uh… well I mean… I know it’s not the best, pretty sure I couldn’t edit out all of the rambling if I tried, but uh. Yeah, I did.”

Patton looked away from the papers, creased from being in the envelope and fluttering a little in the slight breeze surrounding the two and making the pokemon cutouts dance in the trees.

He was beaming.

“Well, I guess having a lifelong love letter is a good reason as any to give you this,” he said, gently folding the papers and placing them under one of the containers Remus had pulled out before digging into the picnic basket and pulling out a large metal pokeball he hadn’t noticed when he was digging in there.

Remus took it when Patton held it out, giving his boyfriend a questioning look and receiving a “go on” gesture in response.

Guess he was opening it then?

Slowly, he lifted the red top of the pokeball and then nearly dropped it in his shock when he saw a silver band glint in the sunlight peeking through the trees.

“Patton, what is this?” he asked softly, not sure because he could never be sure unless he was told outright what was happening.

“A proposal,” Patton answered, wringing his hands together in a clear display of anxiety, “kind of. I had this whole speech planned but your really sweet letter made me speechless.”

Remus and Patton both snorted a little at the joke.

Taking a deep breath, Remus looked back down at the ring so he could actually gather what it looked like beyond the silver band.

It wasn’t much, the band thick and two tiny gems impressed into the metal surrounded by linked hearts. The gems were blue and green, both Patton’s and Remus’ favorite colors.

He carefully took the ring out of the pokeball, and then slid it on left his ring finger as he felt a grin take over his expression.

Patton then launched himself at Remus, taking him by surprise and making them both fall to the ground.

“Please tell me that’s a yes,” Patton whispered, his arms wrapped around Remus’ waist and his face buried in his neck.

Remus huffed, settling his right hand on the small of Patton’s back, grinning up at the sky broken up by leaves before he brought his left hand in his vision to admire the ring.

“It’s a hell fucking yeah.”

With a squeal, Patton clung tighter to Remus, and he prepared himself to just lay in the grass with his fiance for a while.

Not like he minded though. Not when they were surrounded by his favorite pokemon and able to brush his fingers through Patton’s hair.

Remus finally got one that chose him too.

[armpit-of-orion]

autistic!beej sensory/stim headcanons

under the cut :)

so for Beetlejuice, the feeling of water is not a Good Texture. the sensation of water can get him overstimulated fast, and his dislike is compounded by the fact that Juno used his aversion against him when he was young.

but the Maitlands help him find ways to get clean that don’t trigger bad memories or cause sensory overload! they figure out that that baths are the way to go; wipes are too rough on his skin, and showers are a no-go. he has bad memories of showers, and besides, water is bad enough without it flying at your face.

big upside to baths: bath bombs! the colors and the fizzing are awesome stims, plus they distract him from the unpleasant sensation of water. (the Maitlands help with that too.)

Lydia introduces him to chewy stim toys! they have to buy the extra tough ones, and even then he has to be careful. he will eat the toy if he isn’t paying attention. and sometimes even when he is.

(Lydia noticed that he’d start biting his hands and arms when he’d get upset, and she wanted him to be able to stim without hurting himself! she’s a great sister! I love her!)

pressure stims are good too! there are lots of hugs, and Lydia gets him a weighted blanket for his birthday! (Delia helped him pick out a birthday, since he didn’t know when his is. there were star charts involved.)

also! I recently found out that pressure vests are a thing (and I want one so bad omfg) and they get Beetlejuice one of those too!

Delia takes him shopping for new clothes. for a while she can’t figure out his reasoning behind the clothing he picks; it’s a strange mix of colors, styles, sizes, but he’s choosing his clothes with clear deliberation, so it’s not as though he’s grabbing at random.

finally Delia figures out that BJ’s picking whatever feels the softest. she doesn’t say anything, but she starts to help him look. (later, whenever she goes shopping on her own, when she comes across a particularly soft article of clothing she automatically buys it for him. this is how Beetlejuice becomes the proud owner of several nightgowns and a dinosaur onesie. look, it’s not Delia’s fault that the softest clothes tend to be sleepwear.)

(also if anyone draws soft!beej in a dino onesie I will die for you.)

Charles turns out to be quite proficient at helping Beetlejuice calm down after a meltdown or a panic attack. Charles isn’t prone to overt displays of emotion, which BJ normally finds annoying, but it’s actually pretty helpful when he’s feeling overwhelmed.

he also starts carrying around a couple stim toys for BJ whenever they go out together. (like to the grocery store! (cough-shamelessly-plugging-own-fic-cough))

what kind of stim toys does Beetlejuice have? well, besides the chewy stim toys, he likes visual stim toys. fidget spinners that light up when you spin them? sign him the hell up! those liquid timer things? the more the better!

they also try out some of those squishy toys with goopy stuff inside them but quickly realize that they’re a bad idea, considering his propensity to gnaw on things. (there was goop everywhere. Beetlejuice didn’t mind. Delia and her brand new white carpeting definitely did.)

also when Charles found out that Lydia was saving up to buy Beetlejuice a weighted blanket for his birthday, he told her to save her money for herself and gave her the money for the weighted blanket.

in sum: they are a Family, and they work hard together to give Beej the support he needs!!

[silenceinthenull]

Swapped

So, I just saw someone post something about Gordon and benrey swapping bodies and it made me remember this little thing I did a while back. I had totally forgotten about it. I decided to post it here because I thought it was an interesting concept.

The first thing he noticed when he wakes up is how everything aches. He knew the ground was uncomfortable but he didn't think it would fuck him up this bad... until he realizes he can feel the ground... not the ground through the HEV suit gloves but the actual ground... he jolts up only to crumple back into himself. That was far too fast to be normal and his bones ache even more.

"Hello Gordon! It would appear you and I have swapped bodies!"

He blinks at that and looks up at... himself... he's very confused for a moment before what dr. Coomer actually said sets in... is this how dr. Coomer lives?

"I'm sorry for the pain my friend, I just took the opportunity to dispose of some of my clones while in this much more spry form! I simply forgot you would feel everything they felt."

He slowly stands up, wobbling a bit as all his movements seem more robotic and sharp now.

"It's... it's okay dr. Coomer. I'm just glad you don't always feel like this... so how did this happen?"

"We seem to have stumbled upon the black mesa mental manipulation experiments! More specifically you were hit with what has been labeled the swap gun! I was never informed how far they got into these experiments."

Gordon looks at himself. He never noticed before how absolutely ripped dr. Coomer was... it was kind of terrifying... but as the pain faded he was glad for it. He was glad dr. Coomer was so strong, if he wasn't they would have lost him long ago.

"Where are the others?"

"They feel down the shaft!"

He points to a flooded elevator shaft on the other side of the room. Gordon approaches it, only to be pushed in. His body seemed to react immediately as he dived in, swimming around the busted elevator at the bottom into the hall below and up a second elevator shaft into a new room where bubby and Tommy sat, talking about beyblades or something... or test tube babies/puppies... Gordon honestly couldn't tell.

Something pushes him out of the water and he looks over, confused. Oh. Dr. Coomer, in his body, climbs out of the shaft with ease, picking Gordon up and carrying him to the others... holy shit how did Coomer make his body so strong.

"Were you aware the power movement function on your suit was deactivated Gordon?"

"... my what?"

"Your power movement function! ..."

He starts rambling about the function Gordon didn't even know he had as if he was reading off another one of his wikipedia articles. He sits Gordon next to the others and does an awkward squat. It's very hard to sit in that suit...

"Gordon, I'm uncomfortable."

"Yeah... it helps if you use an actual chair, or just lay out..."

Dr. Coomer flops face first onto the floor.

Gordon groans, just knowing his nose is going to hurt when he gets his body back... if he gets it back anyway...

And he's suddenly laying on the floor, nose uncomfortably pressed against the concrete. He slowly stands up.

"Hello Gordon! I'm comfortable!"

"... me too dr. Coomer. Me too."

Gordon was getting tired this. One more claymore and he was going to lose his fucking mind! He peeked around the corner, looking for any more of those telltale blue lasers. Only to be very startled when he was sudden standing behind himself and he just pulled the trigger, watching as a bullet whizzed past his own head detonating a claymore just out of range of hurting any of them.

He froze for a second as everything seemed to move in slow motion, soldiers rushing towards them as the dust settles and without thinking he pulls the trigger again, barely even having to think about aiming everyone who was rushing them almost immediately drops.

He takes a deep breath and there's a quiet electrical buzzing in his ear from the rails below them as he looks at the others, coomer, bubby and himself, meaning he's in Tommy's body... everything felt... different, but in a way he couldn't describe. Things he didn't even notice before were suddenly at the forefront of his mind, like the way the now empty gun in his hands clicked quietly as he continued to pull the trigger, or the way standing on the electric rail actually felt... really nice... or how that electric buzzing from the rail wouldn't stop!

He got off the rail but it didn't help. Why was it suddenly so loud? He covered his ears but it really didn't help. He pressed the clicking gun to his head and that blocked out some of the noise but it was still there.

"It's so quiet... is it always like this for you mr. Freeman?"

He looks at Tommy.

"I... I guess? It's... its different. So loud... so constant... how can you stand... how do you think... how do you live like this?"

It was so much he just wasn't to rub his ears until they stopped working... Tommy quickly pulls him away from the rails. The pressure of the hand wrapped around his wrist feels... nice... but wrong at the same time. He doesn't understand.

Tommy reaches into Gordon's coat pocket and pulls out what looks like the launcher of a beyblade. He gently takes it and does the ripping motion and suddenly all Gordon can focus on is that sound. He quickly takes the toy and starts doing the motion over and over, blocking out the rail and making the most heavenly sound he's ever heard over and over.

Gordon is immediately pulled out of it when dr. Coomer puts a hand on his shoulder and he immediately feels very wrong. He moves out from under the hand and stares at him, confused.

"Are you alright Gordon?"

"I don't... know... everything seems like it's too much!"

Even speaking felt so wrong! The words leaving his mouth felt bad! He covers his mouth, quietly stomping his foot. That helped. That thud in his leg. That helped.

"You need to stop mr. Freeman. You're going to hurt yourself. Stomping like that isn't the best stim."

Gordon looks at him, confusion clear on his face.

"I know it feels good, but you're damaging the muscles."

Benrey walks over, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Tommy! What's up bro? Rails getting to be too much? Need some soda to chill?"

He stops in front of him with a smile, not a smirk or anything mocking like he would give Gordon and holds out a soda.

"That's a great idea! Drink that mr. Freeman! It will help!"

He's still confused, and benrey is too now, looking between Gordon and Tommy. Gordon takes the soda and opens it. Oh, nice sound, good. Oh, nice feeling! Better! The fizz touching his lips has him in heaven again and he can even relax a little. No wonder Tommy had soda for lunch.

Bubby huffs and walks ahead and Gordon feels bad for holding them up. So bad tears start welling up and he doesn't know why it hurts so much... benrey pulls out another soda and Gordon takes it without hesitation, trying to soothe the sadness that seemed to bubble up from nowhere. It... might of worked? He doesn't know because the next moment he's back in his body looking at Tommy quickly wipe up his tears.

"... is there any way we can help you manage that tommy?"

"I'm okay mr. Freeman... I know... I'm used to it."

He gives a reassuring smile and Gordon believes him, but wishes he could help more. He decides Tommy gets first dibs on soda from now on.

Gordon was in a tube... the last thing he remembered was the lights going out and then nothing... he looks around for a way out but he really was trapped. It was frustrating. He felt trapped and alone... eventually he heard voices, dr. Coomer, Tommy and... his own? Was he in bubby's body!? He didn't feel any different... soon they walked into view and he saw it... dear god...

"You just had to fuck up!"

Gordon jumps a bit and stares at himself.

"You couldn't just take your punishment like a man, could you!? Had to make me suffer in your place!"

"... you let them cut off my fucking hand!"

He remembers the voices after the lights went out, what bubby said... he remembers the pain.

"That wasn't the plan! They were just supposed to rough you up a but!"

"And!? You sold me out to the fucking military!"

And suddenly everything feels different. It feels wrong, everything hurts, he's lightheaded. He looks down before he registers anything else.

"And now I'm back in my fucking tube!"

He stares at the stump. He feels sick. He wobbles a bit but dr. Coomer catches him and brings him to the console. Gordon looks at it, seeing the release button and just pressing it.

"... you're just going to let me out?"

"... you suffered more then enough..."

And they moved on.

Gordon sighs as they headed down the elevator, clutching his aching stump. He was very Surprised to see the scientist. After everyone was introduced everything shifts again... he closes his eyes, please don't tell him he's in benrey... he slowly opens them and looks at himself... darnold? He turns back to his body who is looking around, shocked.

"... were you hit by the swap gun?"

"Yeah. Do you know anything about it?"

"Nope, just that sometimes you don't swap back... better fix up your body just in case then!"

He happily walks over to a barrel and easily picks it up, bringing it to his desk and laying it down so it's at a very specific angle before popping open a compartment on the suit Gordon didn't even know was there and pulling out... a silly straw?

And he just starts chugging... Gordon is actually impressed! He downs the entire barrel in less then a few minutes. Gordon didn't even know his body could drink that much that quickly... and as soon as he finishes Gordon is back in his body... just in time for the pain...

Gordon was getting tired of random swaps with people, so he starts experimenting. With dr. Coomer's help he has figured out that a swap is initially when he feels helpless, exhausted and/or extremely afraid. He wonders if there's a way to weaponize this? He doesn't have long to wonder though when they run into a particularly irritating soldier once again, this time he's holding a fucking dog hostage and the second Gordon sees that it happens. He looks at himself and at Coomer, who immediately understands what happened and tackles his body to the ground. Gordon grins and gets off the elevator, bringing the remote for the turrets to Tommy.

"For once that had excellent timing."

"Huh?"

Benrey is suddenly there and very confused?

"... forzen... bro... why are you here? Aren't you still pissed about that irate gamer thing?"

Forzen starts ranting from beneath Coomer and benrey pouts a bit before seeming to realize what's happening, before pretending he didn't realize and going up to Gordon and kissing him straight on the lips.

"Sorry, we aren't working out." And he walks away, leaving everyone stunned.

"I dumped you ass yesterday you angry video game nerd fanboy freak!"

Everyone is immediately looking at forzen again, giving benrey the opportunity to sneak away and melt a bit as he internally squeals in delight. He kissed feetman! And feetman doesn't know he knew! He got to kiss his crush before they have to... end his game... he's not letting that spoil his mood. He revels.

Gordon returns to his body a few moments later and forzen bolts.

Gordon was fucking tired as they approached the scientists, exhausted when they told him what he had to do, and done when the mystery briefcase man showed up again... and that's when it happened. Everything made sense, he felt powerful, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted!!!

And then he was back to normal. He looks at the man, who he now knew went by G-man Coolatta... Tommy's dad is creepy and all powerful... Gordon was just going to do what the guy wanted. He did as he was told.

Gordon was exhausted, afraid and helpless. He was honestly Surprised the swap only just happened. It felt... strange. His size felt too small, his shape felt wrong and it felt like he was wearing a full body suit... what is benrey? He stared down at his own body as the other's panicked and benrey just stared back.

"... hug?"

At first he wanted to say fuck no but... that was his pleading face... benrey genuinely just wanted a hug and became he was in Gordon's body he could read him like a book... he gently picked benrey up.

"... what do you really want?"

"... you shouldn't be here bro."

He looked scared. He looked hurt. He looked... lonely... Gordon gently placed benrey against his chest. He can't really hug benrey when he was this big, but benrey could hug him... and he did... and it was really nice... Gordon wishes he knew how to take them all back. He wishes he could soothe benrey's fears and loneliness...

He gently picks up the other members of the science team, looking for there they needed to go. He set them all down once he found it, and looked for a way to follow them, Surprised he hadn't swapped back yet.

"How do I make myself small again?"

"Huh? Just... just want it..."

He didn't know what that meant... after a moment of trying he seemed to do it, becoming roughly benrey's current size. They all move forward, together.

They don't swap back until the boss fight... it hurts when it happens. It feels like he's being ripped out of benrey's body and forced back into his own. Gordon feels sick when he realizes why... they had to kill benrey. If they didn't they would never get out...

"What happens if we don't fight? Do we really have to?"

"Yeah bro... gotta... gotta be the bad guy. Gotta be mean..."

"I don't want to do this."

"Doesn't... doesn't matter bro... I'm sorry..."

He doesn't hold back...

~~~~epilogue~~~~~

I'm gonna do the epilogue now.

It had been about a week since the party when Gordon's head started pounding.

"Uh, hey bro... been a while hasn't it..."

And Gordon doesn't even question it. He's too relieved. To happy in that moment. They didn't kill benrey! Or... they did... but he was still around!

"Yeah feetman! Hitched a ride when my body kinda fizzled. Think I could... maybe stick around? Keep you from having anymore... dick slips and shit..."

Gordon just laughs and nods to himself. He can't wait to tell the others. Benrey can't either a little bit of sweet voice flows out of Gordon's mouth, shocking him a bit.

"Oh cool! I can still do that!"

And Gordon just rolls with it. Why the fuck not you know? Makes as much sense as anything else he's been through. He opens his mouth and just lets it flow! His room quickly fills up with it.

[sacred-algae]

Nights Like These

It's no secret that Todd is bad at feelings. Bad at expressing them, bad at handling them. Really bad at handling them. Because Dirk has a boyfriend. A boyfriend who isn't Todd. And it tears him apart. All he ever feels any more is hopelessness. And tonight was no different. Until it was. It was about to be VERY different.

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2,851

       It was nights like these where Todd didn’t like to think. He wished he was incapable of thinking. Screw that, he wished he didn’t love him. 

       He’d never been in love before and oh how he wishes he wasn’t right now. 

       Because this sucked. It hurt like hell. 

       Having to see him every day. See his beautiful smile and perfect eyes and know that he didn’t love him back.

       Being in love with Dirk was one thing a month ago. 

       He always knew he liked him, well, not always, but when he realized he was in love with him… That was another story. 

       He felt like he was walking on air when he realized it. He realized how lucky he was to have him in his life and how happy he made him.

       He even started flirting with him, to no avail but he still did.

       And it felt right. One day he would get the courage to ask him out. 

        But before that day came… the worst day of his life came. 

       He got a boyfriend.

       A boyfriend that wasn’t Todd.

       And ever since then it’s been “Brett this, Brett that,” and he wanted to punch that bastard right in the nose!

       … But he made Dirk happy. And so Todd was happy if he was happy.

       Scratch that. Todd was very unhappy. 

       He wanted to die every time Brett kissed Dirk, he wanted to cry every time he saw them holding hands, he wanted to punch the wall when he heard the exchange of pet-names, he wanted to scream every time smiled at his phone after getting a text from him.

       He was miserable. He had gone from being depressed before Dirk to being the happiest in his life to being happier to being even more depressed and it was horrible.

        So yes, he thought about this every night. What made this night worse than the other nights, what made this night “nights like these”?

       It was date night. 

       The night of the week where he wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. 

       So he did. 

       And he sobbed.

        And to make matters worse, his episodes have always been more emotionally fueled so “date night” was always a reliable alarm clock for his body to betray him. 

       And to make matters even worse, it was their one month anniversary, and Dirk was all excited about their big date.

       So he had to buckle up for a long, sleepless, painful, night.

        And his first attack of the night was over.

       He sat on the bathroom floor, huddled in the corner between the sink cabinet and the wall, shaking violently as his post-attack nerves calmed down. Breathing heavily as tears streamed down his hot face, head whirring.

       And it was only 10:00.

        It was only 10:00 when he heard a knock on his door. 

        Stumbling, he stood up and wiped his eyes on his flannel sleeve as he approached the door.

       And he was ready to kill a bitch when he saw who was on the other side of the door, sobbing.

       “Oh my god, Dirk what happened? Are you ok?” 

       He flung himself into Todd’s arms. “He pulled a Warner, Todd,” he choked between tears.

       “He pulled a what?” Todd stood flabbergasted, not quite sure on whether or not he should return the hug, but then he did, Dirk needed him.

       “Like that musical, Pink Lawyer.”

       “Oh, you mean Legally Blonde? And that was a movie before it was a musical.”

       “But I like the musical better. I like the song 'Gay or European', it's like a song about me.”

       “Whatever you say, Dirk. What happened, what do you mean he pulled a Warner?” And then it hit him, “Oh my god, he didn’t!”

       “Mmhmm,” Dirk gave a sad, affirmative hum and nodded into Todd’s shoulder.

       “On your anniversary?! THAT DICK!”

       Dirk laughed slightly.

       “What-” Todd wasn’t good at this, in fact, he was very bad at this. “What do you need?”

       Dirk pulled back and looked at Todd confused. His eyes red, swollen, and glossy. He hated seeing him like this. He wanted to hold him until the end of time and make sure he was never upset again. The things he was going to say to Brett- but he needed to focus on Dirk right now.

       “I mean, you came to me for a reason, right? What do you need?”

       He stood silent for a moment, not really understanding the question. In all honesty, his brain couldn’t process much at the moment. “Right, why I’m here, um, yes! I-” he sighed, “I don’t know. Universe said I should come here.”

       Damn you universe,  Todd thought. 

       “Ok.” His mind shuffled around the possible answers to this. In the past he would have made some flirty joke like, “oh, the universe wanted you to be here, huh?” or something or other but he wasn’t past Todd. He was present Todd and he would be there for Dirk. And he doubted the universe actually wanted that to be honest. He would always just be friends with Dirk. Hopelessly and endlessly. “Come in then, want to talk?”

       “Maybe,” he sniffed as he walked in. “I don’t know. I just want to be here.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have any tea?”

       Todd smiled, “Always.” He walked over to the kitchenette and dug through the pantries as Dirk sat down. “What type?”

       Dirk beamed, “You have more than one type? You don’t even like tea.”

       Todd had started keeping tea around in case of situations like these. Not break-ups specifically, he hadn’t planned for those, but any situation where Dirk needed some comfort. And he didn’t know what Dirk preferred so he just bought a lot of different types.

       “Yeah, what type?”

       “I don’t know. Do you have lemon? Sour tea to fit my sour mood.” He sunk into the sofa. 

       “Don’t be like that, Dirk.” He heated up a mug of water in the microwave, receiving a wince from Dirk but he was just happy Todd was trying. “I’m assuming you want milk and sugar in it?”

       “Yes, please.” Todd chuckled. 

       He put the teabag in the mug and grabbed the milk carton, a spoon, and the sugar and clumsily carried it all back to the couch. 

       “Thank you, Todd.” He smiled through his pooling grey-blue eyes.

       They sat like that for a while. Staring at the wall. A million thoughts flooding through their heads.

       The main one in Todd’s head? He was going to fucking kill Brett. He should have fucking known, with a name like Brett. And his stupid books, and his stupid sweater vests, and his stupid perfect hair, and his stupid collection of snobby tea. Now that he thinks about it he was really perfect for Dirk, Dirk didn’t want some punk-reject. He wanted an elegant refined man, not a scrumpy hobbit asshole of a man. NO! Brett was a dick. An absolute dick and he hurt Dirk. No one hurts Dirk on Todd’s watch. Not unless they want to get killed. 

       It wasn’t like he couldn’t do it. He could blame it on a holistic situation next case. Yes, brilliant. He would find some way to drag him into it push him into the danger. It was perfect, foolproof, and oh my fucking god was he really plotting a murder right now? He needed to focus on Dirk. Who had just started crying again, oh god he was bad at this. 

       Todd looked over to him. He sat rigidly. The warm mug in his hands, somewhat of a grounding stim, his head tucked into his chest as his tears fell. 

       He cleared his throat and nervously spoke up. “Need to talk about it? Sometimes venting helps.”

       Dirk bit his lip and wordlessly nodded before turning to Todd.

       “It was a stupid reason, really,” he sniffled.

       “Any reason to break up with someone as amazing as you is stupid in my books.” Dirk smiled. Smiling was good.

       “No. There are plenty of good reasons. I’m annoying, I talk too much, I’m dangerous, I’m an idiotic fool-”

       “Stop with all the negative talk,” Todd said sternly.

       “But it really was a stupidly stupid reason. I… I was telling him the story of our cases-”

       “Ooo which one?”

       “The Coconut Caper.” He set the mug down on the coffee table with the rest of the stuff Todd had brought out.

       “That was a fun one,” They laughed for a moment reminiscing on it. The Coconut Caper was one of their more… well… heated cases. There was a lot of tension there on both their parts, but both of them only recognized his own feelings and was completely oblivious as to the other’s.

       “So I was telling him the story and out of nowhere, he got mad! He said… he said he was tired of hearing about you.”

       What?

       “That it’s always ‘Todd, this and Todd, that’ and he was sick of it. And- and,” he stuttered to get the words out. “And said he was sick of it, and that it was all I ever talked about and- and,” He fell into Todd’s shoulder, covering his face with his hands. Regretting what he was about to say before he even said it, but Todd asked so he would say it. He would play it off as if it wasn’t true. “He said he thought I was in love with you… and then he dumped me!”

       A question burned into the back of Todd’s mind. A question he knew he shouldn’t ask for fear of losing everything, and pushing Dirk farther than he needed tonight... But the question remained, it refused to leave. It wasn’t going to go away unless he asked. 

       So Todd made the rash decision to ask said question, a decision he knew as the sentence formed out of his mouth he would later regret as he already knew the answer but something told him he didn’t know the full truth. He needed the full truth. He needed all of it. 

       And so he asked the question.

       “Dirk, do you love me?” His voice shook like the after-shock in a house seated across the street from a quarry. His face burning hot, his own eyes filling with salty betrayal. 

       “Uh-buh-buh-buh,” He sat up abruptly, straightening himself out, his mouth flapped like a fish. “What an odd question, Todd.” Dirk sat back up with a very bad look of hiding the truth. Todd almost let the corners of his mouth upturn. He thought he knew the answer, and he thought it might be the one he wanted after all of this time. 

       “Dirk, answer the question.” His voice slowly losing its tough persona.

       “You see, it’s a very complex answer, that question, Todd.”

       “Answer the goddamn question!”

       “Ok fine. You want the truth? Here’s the truth! I’m in love with you... I always have been but I know you don’t love me and so that’s why I started dating Brett.” 

       “Dirk-” His voice even softer now, a pang in his chest, heartbreaking at the thought of Dirk not knowing and feeling the way he did, knowing Dirk felt all of the pain Todd did.

       “LET ME FINISH. I thought if I dated someone else I would forget about you and stop loving you but the truth is I can’t.” He started crying, again. “I can’t forget you. I can’t, Todd. I’m sorry-”

       “Dirk-” More insistent.

       “SHUT UP FOR ONE BLOODY FUCKING MINUTE AND LET ME FUCKING GET THIS OVER WITH BECAUSE THIS IS FUCKING HARD!” Woah. He shouted at the top of his lungs before returning to normal, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Half apologizing for freaking out and half apologizing for his feelings. “I am. I can’t help it, I can’t help that I love you but I do.”

       He sped up almost incoherently, vomiting out words, not caring if he was repeating himself or saying things that didn’t make sense. Let him choose his words and tone for this ok? Like he said, this was hard. “Just promise me, promise me you won’t leave because I don’t think I could take it because honestly you saved my life in so many ways not only physical and I couldn’t bear if you left so promise me you won't leave and I don’t care if you aren’t my best friend anymore just don’t drop off the face of the earth and promise me-”

       “Dirk-”

       “SHUT UP, TODD.”

       “I LOVE YOU!”

        Dirk jolted back, not quite sure if he heard Todd right. If his mind was playing tricks on him, if Todd was playing tricks on him.

       “Oh, now you’re just being cruel.” His voice accusatory.

       “No, I do!” His voice defensive.

       “You’re just saying that to shut me up. Because I’m annoying and stupid and-”

       “What did I say about saying that about yourself?” 

       “Not to.” He pouted, “But you don’t. I think I would have figured that out by now.”

       “I didn’t figure it out”

       “Yes, but you’re just saying that. How do I know you love me?”

       Todd smiled. The first time he smiled that night. 

        “Because I do. Because you changed me. You made me a better person. And my life was boring before I knew you. And it sucked. And I know that doesn’t mean much but this does. And I wish you could see yourself like I do. The amazing, kind, wonderfully-crazy, funny and, not going to lie, sexy man you are.” Dirk chuckled and hid his face. “I want you to know that you make my life better. You give me a meaning and purpose I didn’t have before. You make me happy, Dirk. You make me so happy. And I hope that’s enough for you to know that I do love you and I’m not just ‘saying it’.”

        “I’m sorry, Todd.” He looked up, holding back more tears. This was a night very much filled with tears.

       Todd shook his head confused, “For what?”

       “For yelling, and assuming you were lying.”

       “Nah, I get it. I’m an asshole. I wouldn’t believe me either.”

       “Ok, if I’m not allowed to say I’m stupid and annoying you  definitely  aren’t allowed to call yourself an asshole. We both know how I feel about you calling yourself that.”

       “Ok, how about dickhead?” He laughed and Dirk playfully shoved him. 

       “That might be worse.”

       All of the anxiety was slowly wearing off, and it left them in a quiet moment. 

       A very quiet moment.

       Too quiet.

       They stared at each other, smiling. Heat rising to their faces, ok maybe they were just too angry and sad to notice it earlier but they were both made suddenly aware of their red faces. 

       “God, this is awkward,” Dirk mumbled as he twiddled with his thumbs. 

       “Yep,” Todd replied.

       Silent again. 

       How did they manage that?

       And then Dirk realized something. 

       Something big.

       His eyes widened and Todd immediately recognized the expression. Dirk had figured something out. Something holistic.

       And before Todd had any time to respond. Any time to process…

        Dirk’s mouth was on his.

        He leapt forward, not thinking, much like he did with everything in his life. He never thought. Ever. It was quite relaxing actually. 

       Unaware of his brute force, that combined with Todd’s shock had sent them spiraling backwards into the couch. Todd’s eyes wide.

       And all he could think, well, no, he couldn’t think. All he could  feel  was, “Oh my god this is actually happening! Is this happening? It better be fucking happening, and holy shit his lips are soft- ” Soft despite the fact that the kiss was awkwardly aggressive and very quick. It all happened in about a second. One second before Dirk realized what he had done.

       He pulled back extremely suddenly, but still hovering over Todd as the couch swallowed him whole, cheeks fire-engine red, spilling out his words in a perfectly Dirk-y way. 

       “Oh-my-god-I’m-so-sorry-I-didn't-ask-first-and-I-didn't-think-and-I-just-did-and-did-I-just-mess-up-did-I-misjudge-the-situation-I’m-so-stupid-and-oh-no-am-I-squishing-you?!”

       And Todd just smiled and grabbed the sides of his jacket, pulling his face back down to his, and he kissed him. This time properly. 

       And Dirk melted at the touch. This was nothing like kissing Brett, this felt right, safe, home. Like the entire universe had been preparing for this moment. 

       It started soft and slow, meant to show Dirk how much he meant everything he said, how much he loved him. And then he started to realize that it was finally happening, and he hungered for more, and Dirk obliged, sending their kiss deeper and deeper. Fully enveloping themselves in each other, in this perfect kiss, this perfect moment. This moment where everything was as it was supposed to be for once. 

       All they could think of was each other and how for the love of God had they not done this sooner.

       Breathless, Todd pulled back and moved his arms around Dirk’s neck, and looked fondly into his eyes.

       “I-I think… I think I know why the universe wanted me to come here.” Dirk breathed with a wide smile brandishing his swollen, pink lips.

       Todd laughed, “You think?”

[breakingsomething]

For the prompts: “You aren’t going anywhere” with Chase and Henrik? OR “I’m really happy you’re here with me” with Jackie and Marvin? You can do either! (Or neither if you want lmaoo)

yeah, this prompt is months old. apologies to the anon who sent me this. oops.

trigger warnings: suicidal ideation, mentions of self harm, themes of memory loss and depression. don't worry, though, he gets better.

there has been one constant since marvin returned from his year with anti.

the constant has not been his own sanity. marvin knows he's slipping. chase recites the symptoms of depression to him; loss of enjoyment in things (marvin can't think about drawing, performing or practicing languages without feeling numb), major change in weight (marvin has lost at least a few pounds in maybe two weeks), insomnia or excessive sleep (marvin has done nothing but sleep for weeks, helps to block out the pain), recurring thoughts of death (marvin thinks about that a lot, he doesn't know why)... he ticks all the boxes. they take him to a doctor. after a couple weeks, he is diagnosed with depression. he is supposed to start therapy. he doesn't go and ignores the calls and pleading brothers who urge him to take care of himself.

the constant has not been his memory. nothing sticks in his head. he is scared all the time, always paranoid, seeing things out the corner of his eye. most of his dreams are empty nowadays, but sometimes he sees anti, dapper, blood, ropes, sketchbooks and charcoal and black eyes and movie tickets and coloured rows of felt puppets. he wakes up screaming and doesn't remember why. he forgets where he lives. he forgets henrik's name and threatens him with a knife until chase talks him down. jackie lies to the doctors about what happened to him. marvin is diagnosed with memory loss. henrik stops speaking to jackie. marvin starts more medication.

the constant has not been himself. some days marvin has no name. he is kitten, jack, mag, pyro, the magnificent magician… he forgets which role he is supposed to play. marvin is an actor on a stage. always has been. who is he pretending to be today? no script. he supposes he'll make up the lines. "yes, i'm ok, no, i'm not hungry, no, i haven't thought about dying today, no, i haven't spent the morning listening to the night in the woods soundtrack on repeat without a break, staring at the ceiling." he sleeps all the fucking time and he's tired. he wants everyone to be quiet but his brothers bicker like children. jackie and henrik aren't on speaking terms anymore. marvin can hear chase crying through the door as he fails to be a peacemaker yet again. marvin closes his eyes and turns his music up louder.

the constant has not been his own desires. he never quite knows what he wants. some days he imagines dying in great detail, some days he cries at the thought of leaving again. some days he wishes he was with anti again just so he could hypnotize his pain away, leaving him sleepy and numb. some days he watches soothing videos on his laptop and resists falling asleep, just so he knows he's alive. he goes out to a club and gets very very drunk. there is a man there he doesn't know. he kisses him and goes home with him and when he wakes he feels disgusted with himself. some days he is morbidly grateful for his memory loss. there are things he doesn't want to remember.

the constant hasn't even been naomi. he meets up with her not long after his drunken mistakes and apologizes for leaving, for not saying a word, for everything. he tells her the truth. she accepts him. marvin hadn't been expecting that. he'd expected her to reject him, for him to be alone again. this is a pleasant surprise. but even she doesn't last. the paranoia creeps in again; don't trust her, she wants you dead, she'll die if you stay with her, anti will get her, she is anti, nothing is right anymore. he isolates himself. stay in your room and you'll be ok.

no, the constant has been jackie. marvin's older brother. his protector, his guardian. jackie is there through every moment of fear, of shame, of anxiety and self hatred. jackie takes the scissors from marvin's hands and wipes the tears from his eyes. jackie whispers comforting words to him as he holds him tightly, not touching his hair because he knows how it scares marvin to feel hands on his scalp.

jackie makes him go to therapy. the therapist he ends up with is named dr. dunn. he's very kind and doesn't say anything about marvin's anxious stimming, his bouncing legs and clenching fists and hair pulling, even after almost all his hair has been cut short. his therapist doesn't pretend he understands. he listens and gives advice. marvin is grateful for him.

jackie helps him remember things. he tells marvin to recite everything he knows to be true, which some days isn't a lot, but some days is many things, and no matter how many things marvin can manage, jackie always grins genuinely and tells him he's doing amazing. marvin doesn't believe him, but appreciates it all the same.

jackie is an anchor. when all marvin can do is stare at nothing and listen to depressing music, he's there. he holds his hand and reminds marvin that he's real. marvin is physical. marvin is alive. marvin isn't kitten, or the magnificent magician, he is himself.

my name is marvin mcloughlin, he reminds himself. i'm twenty nine years old. i have been on this planet for three years. i'm bisexual. i have three brothers. i have a girlfriend named naomi gudmundson. i used to be part of an organization called hecate's international network of magic.

it's little things. baby steps. one day marvin wakes up and whistles a tune as he makes breakfast before twelve pm and jackie nearly cries. so does marvin, when he realizes he's happy. he doesn't want to die. he hugs jackie and chase and even henrik and thrives in the moment.

recovery is not an uphill journey. some days marvin finds himself slipping again. but he always catches himself, and if he finds himself wanting to fall, jackie catches him instead. jackie is there. chase is there. henrik is there. marvin has a constant, and he clings to it like a lifeline.

"i'm really happy you're here with me," he tells his brothers one morning. "it feels almost impossible to have made it this far, so thank you for - even after all my mistakes, you still love me and i don't understand why but i love you all so much."

"of course," jackie says, and chase and henrik nod. "marvin, we could never stop loving you."

they say his name a lot, maybe unconsciously, just to remind him. marvin doesn't drift as much anymore, but when he does, he at least knows who he is.

[writing-radionoises]

getting better

ship: background kamukoma

genre: hurt/comfort

prompt: monaca teaches izuru a thing or two

notes: fuck you i love monaca

also inspired by an adventure time quote

written at like 10 pm

--

Izuru's talents are sometimes more hurtful than helpful.

For example, when the anniversary of his first meeting with Junko comes around, no matter how hard he tries to forget, he always remembers.

He is like a living calendar, unconsciously keeping track of every day and every hour of his life like a machine. 

This function of his brain has yet to prove any use other than pain to Izuru.

And Monaca knows that well, even after only spending a few months with her new father.

Memories are nothing but pain for Izuru Kamukura.

And she could probably say the same for herself, had it not been for one good person in her life to turn it all around.

Which is why she is absolutely determined now to comfort Izuru, despite having no idea how to do such a thing. Monaca's experience with comfort is very limited, but she was going to try.

Izuru was crying in the living room, curled up in a chair with his long tangled locks seemingly masking his body from sight. He was not a loud crier, but sniffles and sobs did escape him at times. 

He was likely containing them due to the trauma Junko had once subjected him to for such an act.

Monaca hesitantly wheeled over to the chair Izuru was sat in, the wheels creaking and begging to be oiled and replaced. The noise caused the shaking one to lift his head up, moving hair out of his face to see.

Izuru was not a pretty crier, that was the conclusion Monaca made. His eyes were red and puffy, nose running and drool spilling out of his mouth. His entire face was wet like he was trying to rub away a waterfall pouring down his face.

Monaca leaned in, her hands resting on her knees as she felt parts of her back shift and pop from such a movement.

Maybe more physical therapy.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Monaca asked, the words falling out of her mouth easily, "The memories?"

Izuru nodded, wiping away his tears with the lower palm of his hand before Monaca fished out a mini box of tissues from her medical bag, handing them to Izuru.

"Talk to Monaca about it?" She asked, leaning back in her chair with a smile as he tried to adjust back to normal.

"Feelings… are stupid," he started, his voice deadpan, but the aftermath of sobbing still lingering within it, "I could've stopped this whole thing somehow, I'm sure of it. No one would've gone through any pain, Nagito wouldn't of hurt himself, and you wouldn't of been paralyzed, and, and, and Hajime-"

"Slow down," she reminded gently.

Kamukura took a breath, his nails digging into his pant leg before continuing, "I was a coward. I was scared of a teenage girl, younger than Hajime. All she did was hit my head against the wall at first, but she still had me wrapped around her pinkie finger like a ring too small. And now, everyone gets to suffer. It's all my fault…"

There's a silence between Monaca and Izuru as Izuru glanced away, placing his chewable in his mouth.

"Kamukura-kun is always trying to protect everyone," started the girl, using her hands to talk, "Hajime, Monaca, Nagito, even people he doesn't even know. He thinks it's his purpose, right?"

Kamukura nodded, pulling his knees closer into his chest. It is true, protecting people was always what he did, even at the sacrifice of himself. Protecting was what he was good at.

"But we are going to get hurt sometimes, no matter how hard Kamukura-kun tries," Monaca continued, "People get hurt! Memories hurt! Regrets hurt! Lots of things hurt, but it makes us who we are, right? Was Izuru anyone before he was hurt?"

He hesitantly nodded a no. Izuru was truly non-existent until Hajime was hurt. Only then was he created. But what Monaca was saying was less literal.

Izuru knew he really didn't have a personality until after Junko stopped hurting him physically. It was his transition, his change.

Maybe even his first step back into hope.

"Kamukura-kun is someone now though, right? He's Nagito's husband, Monaca's dad, Chiaki's best friend, and so on. Kamukura-kun couldn't of saved any of these people, but does he think they're mad about it?" She said, running her hands through her seafoam green locks, "No, probably not. The voice that tells him it's all his fault? That's Big Sis Junko's, and she's not here with us anymore, so Kamukura-kun doesn't need to listen to it, okay?"

There's a long silence before Izuru removed the stim toy from his mouth and his feet hit the floor, back and posture straightening as he looked at Monaca and nodded.

"You are right, I appreciate your pep talk. It appears you do take after Nagito quite a bit. You have reminded me of things and coping mechanisms I had long forgotten…" he hummed it reply, standing up and stretching before gently ruffling Monaca's hair, "Now, I must brush my hair and put it up, but I will bake something for you today, okay?"

Monaca smiled, nodding happily, "Yay! Can Monaca help?"

"Of course," Izuru responded, picking up Monaca out of her wheelchair and holding her bridal style, "Let's change your bandages while we're at it."

He takes her with him into the bathroom, setting her on the counter as Izuru brushed his hair, and Monaca braided it. The bloody bandages on her legs were changed, and they moved into the kitchen to make a cake.

Monaca is getting better.

And Izuru is, too.

[batkidsandco]

Stimming

(Just a little autistic batbros fic for autism acceptance month. CW for mentions of aba and self harm).

Damian looked up from his sketchpad and over to where the creaking sound was coming from. Tim was sat at the batcomputer rocking back and forth. Though the way he was rocking was very strange. As he leaned back he stuck his legs out, and when he leaned forward he tucked them under the chair. "Drake what are you doing?" Damian snapped. "It's called stimming." The older boy replied not looking round. "Well you look ridiculous." Tim stopped rocking and looked round. "I don't care how it looks. It's not hurting anyone and it helps me concentrate." Damian's frowned deepened. "You really are an embarrassment." Tim leapt up from the chair. "Do you have any idea how long it's taken me to be able to stim in front of people? To get over the abuse I had to suffer at the hands of my so called therapist! No you don't. So just shut up!" The older boy stomped out of the cave. Too confused and frustrated to continue drawing Damian just sat there tugging at his ear lobe.

It was just his luck that the first people to arrive at the meeting place was Jason and himself. Still, Damian thought, at least it's not Drake. Jason hadn't noticed the younger boy and was chewing on his fingers. Blood trickled down his hand but he paid no attention to it. "I know you are a zombie Todd but that's ridiculous." Jason jumped and spun round. "Oh it's you brat." He started wiping the blood on his shirt. Damian pulled a face in disgust. "Look I chew on things when I'm bored. It's one of my stims." "Stims? You mean like Drake does?" Jason nodded. "I thought that was to help you concentrate." Damian muttered. "That's one reason for it. Boredom is another." Damian wanted to ask more but he didn't want the older boy to get angry like Tim had.  The two brothers waited for the others in silence after that. It was a boring wait and Damian started tapping his legs with the tips of his fingers, just as something to do.

Rain poured down outside the café as Damian stared at the rain drops running down the window. He was so engrossed he didn't notice Dick had sat back down. "What's up Dami?" he asked. Damian jumped a little and looked round. "Nothing." he frowned, unsure why his brother would think anything was wrong. "Just wanted to check." his brother smiled pushing the hot coco towards Damian. "Figured you could do with warming up." he took a sip of his own drink. "I would have gotten you a tea. But it's pretty low quali-tea." he chuckled at his joke as Damian rolled his eyes. The two sat in silence as Damian mulled over a question in his mind. Eventually he spoke. "Richard. What is stimming?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "Well what do you think it is?" "I don't know. Drake says it's something you do to help you concentrate. But Todd says it's something you do when you're bored. All I know is it has something to do with physical movement." Dick nodded. "You're almost right. It is something people do when they're concentrating, or when they're bored. But you can also do it to express emotion or regulate sensory input. And it's not just physical. It can be auditory, like when you listen to a song on repeat. Or tactile, like when you nuzzle your face into Titus. Or visual like when you watch the rain drops." Damian frowned. "So you think I stim?" "I know you stim. We all do. Some more obviously than others. Your stims are more subtle but they're still there. Mine are a little more obvious. Like how I hold my hands up to my face and flap them when I'm really happy." "And you're not embarrassed?" Dick shrugged. "Not really. I mean sure people stare and make comments. But I don't see why I have to act unnaturally just to please them. Emotions aren't embarrassing, so why should the way I express mine be?" Damian looked down at his lap. "When I was a child I bounced my legs when I was happy. But mother said it was undignified." Dick sighed. "Damian you're still a child." "It's really hard not to sometimes." he continued ignoring Dick's interruption. "But I don't want to embarrass father." "And you won't." Dick reassured him. "Bruce put up with me leaping around I'm pretty sure he won't keel over in shock if you start bouncing your leg." he leaned back. "And you don't have to start doing it in public straight away. Take your time. Maybe you could talk to Tim about it." he held up his hand before Damian could even open his mouth to argue. "I know you two don't always get along. But Tim knows about this sort of thing more than me." "How?" "Well you both grew up with moms who were very anti stim. Tim still can't stim in public but maybe you could help each other." Damian glanced out of the window, the rain had stopped a while ago. "I'll think about it." 

[luffysfakebeard]

I am living for your Isak w Aspergers head canons do you think you could do some more?

the first post

this headcanon means so much to me so of course I’ll be continuing it ♥ (this got fucking long oh my god)

one night during exam season they were going to bed and Even saw that Isak’s thigh was all mottled red and bruising and it took him a few days to realise that it was from Isak stimming and hitting his hand repeatedly against his leg while he worked

after that if he saw Isak stimming he’d weave his fingers through Isak’s and pull his hand up and gently dot kisses over Isak’s shaky fingers

when he was younger (read: when he was first coping with being labelled autistic) he tried going to a support group for people with autism because he was kinda struggling with it and while Jonas was so so good about it he didn’t really get it

Isak went to one meeting and never went back because it was too much it made it too real he didn’t want to need a support group like some drug addict just because his brain worked a little differently

(it didn’t help that he felt so different from everyone there, despite the fact they were all there for the same reason)

the first time Even’s parents cook for him they put raw tomato in the salad and Isak’s heart sinks because raw tomato is his ultimate Nope™ texture

he tried so so hard though because he didn’t want to mess up the first dinner with his boyfriend’s parents so he talked the talk and dazzled Even’s parents but when he tried to eat one of those tiny lil baby tomatoes he just couldn’t

when he bit into it his whole body shuddered and he was 90% sure he was going to vomit everywhere and he was spitting it back out before he could consciously think about it

he quickly excused himself to the bathroom and sat against the door and tried not to cry because he was sure he’d just ruined their impression of him and they were going to think he was so rude and everything was ruined and- 

and Even of course came in and wiped the few tears that had squeezed their way out from Isak’s cheeks and reassured Isak that his parents didn’t mind they just felt kinda bad that they didn’t know he hated tomatoes

all subsequent dinners together involved tomato-free salads

sometimes Isak gets bouts of hyposenstivity (nowhere near as often as he gets hypersensitive, but they happen) and his responses are about five seconds slower than usual

sometimes it’s funny, like when Magnus will try to throw shade at him and then a few seconds later Isak drags Magnus even though someone else is talking

sometimes it’s less funny, like the time he was washing his hands and the plumbing fucked up and hot water poured out and Isak didn’t even feel it and finished washing his hands. Even had to put burn cream on his hands and Isak had to talk him out of calling their landlord in a rage about the state of their plumbing

Isak almost never has meltdowns, but when he does they take it right out of him and they’re usually triggered by something that anyone else would deem menial

there was an unfortunate incident when Even was having a manic episode and he reorganised everything in their flat in a way that totally made sense to him at 2.30 in the morning. everything including Isak’s school notes which were meticulously ordered

there was shouting, a lot of struggling to breathe, and the crushing certainty that he was going to fuck up his classes because his notes were a mess

when the episode was over Even apologised for messing with Isak’s system and Isak apologised for losing his shit when he knew Even couldn’t always help it

when Isak was little he was always the child who watched other children rather than engage in the play himself

his parents were always trying to push him to play with the other kids, but Isak was much happier observing them

fun fact: Montessori (one of the most renowned people when it comes to theory about children’s play and learning) noted that some children preferred to observe first before they attempted things themselves, and that adults should not try to force those children to engage before they are ready because children know when they’re ready and will move forwards with their play/learning when they’re ready

Isak wishes more people knew about that because he always felt like grown ups were pushing him to do things before he was ready

Magnus once found out that there was a girl in their class who was also on the spectrum and told Isak and Isak was just like and????? because he wasn’t going to befriend someone just because they were autistic too it didn’t work like that there isn’t a secret handshake or something Mags just drop it

occasionally people will try to use his autism as a weapon. in his maths classes he used to sit in front of a kid who always sneered that Isak was like a shittier version of Rain Man (Mahdi may have sold that guy some high quality shit at a high quality price that was actually just oregano)

Isak hates hates hates when the school chooses an autism charity for events because yeah it’s a great cause but whenever he sees signs encouraging people to ‘raise money for autism’ he feels like such a fucking charity case some pathetic loser who should be pitied because his brain is different

he will also use those times to get the boys do things for him out of spite because he really hates those posters (”you can help people with autism right now by shutting up, Magnus” “you raised money for autism? cool, can I borrow a tenner for some dinner?”)

whenever he hears or sees the words “cure autism” a part of him dies because he hates how misinformed people are but there’s also a part of him that wishes so badly sometimes that he could cure it

most of the time he just doesn’t give a shit tbh it’s just part of his life it’s not like he’s at the other end of the spectrum and he’ll need a carer his whole life he considers himself pretty lucky honestly

he’s never really been good at relating to people emotionally. he doesn’t really get emotional like everyone else seems to so he has no idea how to process it when people start crying on his shoulder. with Even’s help he’s getting better at it though.

as time goes on, Isak gets more and more comfortable with his identity as an autistic gay teen and will be vocal about his limitations in both

”I’m gay, Mahdi, I don’t know if she’d like that position????????”

“I’m having a bad day, please don’t talk to me just let me sit here on the edge without talking or looking at anyone okay”

sometimes Even will draw a jigsaw puzzle piece on his own wrist and then draw the piece that would fit next to it on Isak’s same wrist because they’re both a little bit dysfunctional but together they always make it work (also because a puzzle piece is the logo for autism, as Isak points out, but mostly the cute romantic reason Even insists)

[benevolentsam]

Just a Joke

"Hey, Sam, do you wanna come hang out with us?" Sam glanced up from his textbook, to see Michael Shurley and some of his friends stood over him. They were the football jocks, popular kids, and not the kind of people who would want to be friends with Sam. To be fair, Sam didn't have any friends, but the nerds were more likely to be kinder to him than the jocks. "Sam we aren't going to hurt you."

"Dean said I shouldn't," Sam replied quietly. His brother had left high school, was working in the mechanics shop down the road. Sam liked to visit him after school and wait with Dean until the end of his work day. When he had left, Dean had been wary of leaving Sam behind with the way he was treated by some of the other kids. Which is why Dean told him not to listen to what the jocks, especially Michael, said.

"C'mon, Sam, Dean isn't here, is he?" Michael knelt down so he was Sam's height. There was a tone in his voice, but Sam really couldn't tell what he meant by it. In all honesty, Sam could never tell what people meant when they said things; too many people spoke with hidden meanings.

Maybe he could trust Michael. Was he really as bad as Dean said he was?

Hesitantly, Sam stood up to follow the football team. He packed his bag, shoving his book into the front pocket of his back pack. Michael waited patiently for him to do so, which was nice. Sometimes Sam moved slowly and he could tell that it annoyed people. The others, Uriel and Bartholomew, seemed to be bored, but Sam couldn't tell that either, not really. Body language was confusing too. Still, he sped up as much as he could.

Michael led him down the corridor, all the way from the library where Sam spent his lunch times to the dining hall. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he chose to ignore it until he reached the canteen. There was lots of people, lots of noise, and it made Sam's heart race a little. Crowds bothered him, there was a reason he avoided being in the canteen. Sam spotted the table where all the cheerleaders and the rest of the football team were, he began to move in that direction but Michael pulled him away.

"We're going to get something to eat, you coming?" Michael urged him. Sam couldn't say no, didn't know how to say no. Like a little lost puppy, he traipsed after Michael and Uriel and Bartholomew while they paid for their lunch. Sam didn't bother buying anything, Dean had packed him a peanut butter and banana sandwich and a strawberry smoothie.

People seemed to be staring at him. Fair enough, he was stood at the front of the room, but why were so many people looking over his way? Maybe they were all watching Michael, that's what people did, right? Watch the popular people. It made him uncomfortable, and Sam started to look at his feet. He had the urge to move around, but people always looked at him funny when he did so he tried to keep his stimming to a minimum.

Michael came up behind him again. "Are you ready?"

Before Sam could answer him, ask him what he was supposed to be ready for, something fell on his head. It was warm and wet and slimy, it dripped down his hair and onto his shoulders. He didn't have time to react before something else hit his head, and then something else. There were roars of laughter coming from all around the canteen, and though Sam had his eyes closed, he could see the flashes of camera. People were taking photos of his humiliation.

He couldn't help himself. The tears started before the wailing, streaming down his face. He still daren't open his eyes, not knowing what had been dumped in his hair. When he began screaming, the captive audience of the dining hall seemed to change. The laughing stopping, being replaced with an awkward silence. They couldn't understand what was going on in Sam's head, the humiliation he felt. Sam couldn't even hold back his stimming.

"Michael!" Sam heard someone yell. He tried to subdue his howls, stop the tears. He managed to open his eyes in time to see a boy with the same dark hair as Michael walking over to them. As the boy stepped closer, Sam cowered away.

"How dare you do that!" There was fury in the boy's voice, so clear even Sam could pick it up. Michael seemed to stammer a little bit, but the boy took none of it. "You took advantage of him, just to embarrass him in front of the whole school, you vile piece of shit!"

"It was just a joke, Cassie," Michael snickered, turning away from the boy, Cassie, towards his friends to back him up. Cassie pulled Michael's should and somehow managed to turn him forward. He slapped Michael square in the face.

"Doe this look like a joke to you?" He questioned, pointing in Sam's direction. "Was it a joke when I got bullied, or what about Gabriel? This wasn't a joke, Michael, this was just plain cruel."

"C'mon, it's not that bad," Michael laughed back. Sam couldn't believe he was still laughing, that the cheerleaders were still tittering a bit. Cassie slapped Michael again.

"You're horrible," Cassie spit out, before turning around to Sam. He still seemed angry and Sam felt scared. However, Cassie's face seemed to soften when he saw the terror in Sam's eyes. He held out a gentle hand to Sam, letting Sam take it in his own time like a skittish deer.

Once Sam was safely holding his hand, Cassie walked him out of the hall, now dead silent, and towards the nearest bathroom. He could finally see what was in his hair, chocolate pudding. It was thick and globby and Sam started to cry again when he saw the damage. His hair was all stuck together and his previously white shirt (which wasn't really his it was Dean's) was definitely going to be stained. He was pretty sure some got in his back pack; he shrugged it off his shoulder to check.

Cassie shushed him, softly stroking Sam's back despite the pudding dripping onto his hand. There was something kind about him that Sam couldn't help but love. He was much kinder than Michael and those jerks in any kind of way. Sam stopped himself from crying, sniffing until he calmed himself.

"'m sorry," Sam mumbled. "You got pudding on you."

"It doesn't matter, " Cassie hummed. "I'm sorry my brother is such an asshole. I'm sorry about what happened to you. I'm sorry that people don't take you seriously."

"It's okay, it's always been that way," Sam shrugged off. "Is Michael your brother?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Cassie sighed. He peeked into the stalls, finding some toilet paper to wipe off the pudding. He was careful as he did so, his touches light like Sam was porcelain. "He used to be a good brother, looking out for me and Gabriel when we were treated badly. But Dad's been preoccupied with our older brother and since then Michael has been a jackass. It doesn't excuse what he's done though."

"Can you pass me my bag?" Sam asked. Cassie complied and handed Sam his back pack. Thankfully, the inside of his bag had been spared from the attack, and everything was clean. Most importantly, his teddy bear, George, was safe and clean. "Do you think the principal knows?"

"I should think so, I'm sure Kevin Tran went to go find her," Cassie replied. Sam knew Kevin, he was in the AV club and on AP courses, but he liked hanging out in the library like Sam. He was quiet but Sam knew quiet was safe; he even smiled at Sam sometimes.

They sat in silence in the bathroom for the while, resting against the sinks. The bell went for lesson, but Cassie wouldn't let Sam get up and go to class. Sam was glad, he wouldn't be able to concentrate and whenever he got restless in class, his teachers sent him to more therapy and he hated it. He was glad that Cassie was kind enough to stay with him too, he needed someone to keep him calm.

Sam's phone rang at one point. He didn't pick up, but immediately after the call ended, he got a text. It was Dean, unsurprisingly, asking what had happened. Principal Mills must've heard about it for Dean to know about it. Which was great, it meant more therapy either way, Sam couldn't be more upset to spend time in a stuffy classroom with an intimidating lady. He quickly text Dean explaining the incident before throwing his phone to the floor.

"You okay?" Cassie asked him.

"My brother knows, everyone knows. Why do I have to be a living embarrassment?" Sam wailed.

"You're not an embarrassment," Cassie frowned. "Just because jerks like Michael embarrass you does not mean you yourself are embarrassing." He placed a gentle hand on Sam's arm, running his thumb in circles. The movement felt familiar and Sam felt comfortable.

"Thank you, Cassie, you're really nice," Sam smiled at him.

"It's Cas, actually, Cassie is what my brothers call me as a joke," Cas chuckled, but for once it felt like it was with Sam and not at him. "And thank you, Sam, I think you're really nice too."

"I'm not, I'm weird, everyone thinks it. It's why people do mean things to me, it's why I have to have support staff and why my brother Dean has to come in twice a week to check my progress. I'm not normal!"

"So? It's what makes you unique, it's why I like you," Cas coughed awkwardly. He wouldn't meet Sam's eyes, and Sam didn't know why. Was Cas lying when he said he liked him? Sam whined in frustration, and Cas glanced up at him. He bit his lip.

"Sam, I'm gonna be honest with you, I've been watching you for a long time. Not in a creepy way, but like I see you around school and I like you! You're sweet and kind, you like reading books about flowers and you play Pokémon on an old school Game Boy. You're a good person and yeah you're a little weird but who isn't? I like you, and I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime."

"Are you- are you joking?" Sam asked. It had happened before, popular girls asking him out in pity, hot guys asking him out as a dare. No one had ever wanted to go out with him before. Cas shook his head.

"No, Sam, I'm being serious, I like you," Cas told him with his straightest face.

Sam's smile grew. Despite the pudding still resting on his shoulders, despite the entire student body laughing at him, despite the prospect of extra therapy sessions, Sam could still smile. Cas liked him, properly, fully liked him. It may have been a horrible day for Sam, but it could also be the best day of his life.

"So what did your brother say?" Cas asked him.

"He asked me to go to his work straight from school. I go most days anyway, but I think he really wants to see me," Sam picked up his phone from the floor again, checking over the message Dean sent him again. Jody called me Im sorry Sammy please come to the shop after school cut last period I wont mind. "Do you want to meet my brother? He's a good brother and I love him more than anything else."

"I'd love to," Cas grinned. He leapt off of the sink and held his hand out for Sam to take. "It's nearly last period, and your brother said he wouldn't mind you skipping class, so do you want to head off to his work?"

Sam took hold of Cas' hand and slipped off of the sink. Cas squeezed Sam's hand an offered a supportive smile before leading him out of the bathroom. His stomach was fluttering like butterflies but it didn't feel bad, not like before. No, Sam felt actually happy and Cas was the reason why.