#the word 'stimming' wouldn't have been used at the time but i don't care

[m-musings]

Crawl Out Through the Fallout with Me: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard X Fem! Reader

A/N: never played an official fallout game in my life but i still love this man so it's time to bullshit some stuff, let's gooooooo

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: After a fight with raiders, a argument between lovers ensues when one of them gets hurt.

Warnings: typical fallout vibes, mentions of fighting, blood and wounds, pre-established relationship, Cooper being Cooper but also being a bit ooc, this is cheesy as hell and def not canon compliant lmao

"Damnit, (Y/n), just what the hell were you thinkin'?!"

An upset voice rang out into the evening air of the Wasteland as a pair of figures rested up inside the crumbling walls of an abandoned building.

Lit by the fading light of the sun, (Y/n) hissed in pain as her irradiated companion tried to sew a sizable gunshot wound on her arm shut.

As he passed the needle back and forth through the gash, the girl rolled her eyes with an exasperated groan as a few rivulets of blood rolled down her arm.

"Gimme a break, Coop! Did you wanna be the one to be shot?! I don't- ow!- think so!"

During a journey to find their next cash-out, the partners were ambushed by a large group of raiders & fiends. After managing to get rid of most of them, one had managed to sneak up and send a bullet flying straight for Cooper.

Noticing the weapon before Cooper could even turn to see the shooter, (Y/n) dashed over and shoved the ghoul out of the path of the shot, causing her arm to be hit instead.

Now- a few hours after killing the remaining enemies- they took shelter in a decrepit shack in order to patch themselves up in peace and rest for the night.

"I'd still be better off than you are right now. I mean, for fucks sake, darlin', I'm a ghoul. I've been through worse than just being shot at."

"Well then, that's the last time I try to be helpful. Next time, I'll sit back and relax while you get absolutely slaughtered by raiders, how about that?!"

"Go right on ahead, see if I care! Now, hold still. Can't close this cut if you keep on squirmin' around." Cooper huffed as he gave the suture one final tug before snipping the end off with a pocket knife and tying it into a knot.

After he was finished, (Y/n) rolled the pain out of her bicep before reaching into her bag to grab a somewhat clean cloth to wipe up any remaining blood.

With a sputter of her lips, she got up from her spot next to Cooper to sit upon the old mattress in the other corner of the room in order to apply a stimpak to herself. It wouldn't be enough to heal the wound completely but it would be enough for her to be able to use her arm properly.

Satisfied with the sight of her flesh knitting back together, Cooper finally relaxed in his chair as he crossed one leg over the other.

"Now don't go doin' anything that stupid again, y' hear me? Don't wanna have to use any more stims than we have to."

"I just... don't understand why you're so worked up about this. Something like this was bound to happen eventually, it's literally a warzone out here. A scar or two isn't unusual." (Y/n) griped as she fell back onto the bed while crossing her arms.

"Yeah, for someone like me it isn't. But it shouldn't ever happen someone like you. You shouldn't have to get hurt like that..." Grumbled Cooper as he leaned back against the wall.

"I'm not made of glass, Coop, I can handle a few hits."

"Don't care. You're way too valuable for me to lose."

(Y/n)'s glare softened at that, realizing the true intention behind the cowboy's scolding was worry. As Cooper sets up a small lantern on the floor to combat the growing darkness, (Y/n) watches the man with a fondness gleaming in her eyes.

"Is that what this is all about? You didn't wanna see me get hurt?" Whispers the girl as she turns onto her side.

Although the action is rather subtle, the ghoul's body visibly tenses up as he fixes his gaze away from the woman across from him.

"I never said that."

"It's clear that you thought it, though." (Y/n) chuckled as she softly grinned at the cowboy.

Heaving out an irritated sigh, Cooper hunches over to look at her as he readjusts his hat.

"What do ya wanna hear from me, sweetheart? That I care about you? That I love ya? Well, if you don't know that by now, then you might be much dumber than I thought you were."

"Hey, I resent that! You'd be lost with me and you know it!"

"Sure I would. Just like how you'd do great out there if you were all alone."

(Y/n) shakes her head with a scoff before she gets up from the mattress to walk over plop herself onto Cooper's lap after he sits back down on the beat-up dinner chair.

As she shuffles into place, Cooper places his hand on the small of her back to ensure she doesn't topple over. He silently glances at her face, analyzing her now troubled expression as she fiddles with the lapel on his duster.

Mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words to say, she presses her lips together before finally speaking her thoughts.

"Y'know, I worry about you too... I'm always so worried that there's gonna be a day where that one gunner you miss is gonna be the one that gets you." (Y/n) admits sadly as she rests her head on Cooper's shoulder.

Cooper's eyes widen slightly and peer down at her as he begins to rub a hand up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort her.

"Hey now, look at me. That'll never happen. Not on my watch."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I got too much to fight for. I already lost one family to this nonsense and I'll be damned if you get taken away from me too. I'll fight tooth and nail before I let anything touch me or you again, understand?"

"But why? What's so special about me?"

"If I allow you to get hurt anymore, I will never be able to live with myself again. I love you, so...so much, darlin'." Cooper states with a resolute nod.

(Y/n) eyes water and crinkle with a gentle smile before she leans up to place a couple light kisses upon his charred lips, which he returns immediately upon receiving.

"I love you too, Cooper..." Mutters (Y/n) as she closes her arm around his shoulders.

With a laugh rumbling in his chest, Cooper wraps both of his hands around her waist as he holds her as close as he can.

"Your sweetness is what's gonna be the death of me one of these days, doll... Not some dumbass bullet." Cooper jokes quietly, placing a kiss atop her hair & resting his head on hers as he rocks back and forth to lull her to sleep.

Listening to the calming sound of her breathing as she slumbers, Cooper thinks about how lucky a man like him is to have found a love like (Y/n) in such a desolate situation.

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Hazbin Hotel characters react to your stims

(I'm doing my personal favorite characters, so if there are others you wanna see, ask me. They may also be slightly OOC.)

Vox

You can't convince me this man doesn't also have ADHD. He's just spent decades masking it, as well as most of himself, to present a perfect image. Probably heard the term as it got more well known but didn't really connect the dots until meeting you.

He fidgets a lot, tapping his claws, bouncing his legs, can't sit in a fucking chair properly.

Doesn't realize he's overstimulated and burnt out from multi tasking dozens of screens until you point it out.

Once he's aware of it you help him manage his work better so he can be less stimulated and tense. You buy him proper fidget toys to mess with and he makes himself some top of the line bass boosted sound canceling headphones. He gives you a pair, too. When you're both alone, you look up songs with loaded bass in 8d just to watch each other twitch and involuntarily move your head with the sound.

That's about the extent of the conscious level of unmasking he'll do though. He gets self conscious.

But, he adores the fact you're comfortable enough to stim around him. Or in public. He can and will violently end people for even giving you dirty looks for stimming in public.

If you show excitement and joy over being around someone through happy noms he will literally get heart eyes. Just be careful where you bite him because it may lead to something else.

He's happy to let you stim, which means tricking him into doing it more.

He remembers and sub consciously absorbs your echolalias or any word replacements you use. If you do a lot of call and response vocals he learns them. (Call and response is basically when you memorize a sound with two people. One calls the other responds. You can just say both parts yourself ((I do)) but it's more satisfying with someone else).

If you do happy flappies this man will short circuit. (He will laugh if you accidentally smack yourself though).

If you squeal and kick you may give him a heart attack. He thought you were hurt or something. He gets used to it eventually but it still startles him.

Vox is also a chatter box so you two can info dump about special interests to each other for hours. Neither one of you expects the other to remember details, but the fact you don't tell each other to shut up and are content to do your own thing while listening to your partner/friend gush is enough.

He has long since forced himself into strict routines so if you struggle to get tasks started or get distracted in the middle of them he's understanding but stern. Tends to cause more harm than good because he talks down to you unintentionally.

If you're a visual/hands on learner he also gets frustrated with you for wasting hours trying to figure it out yourself and getting yourself upset instead of just letting him do it for you. You get into a lot of fights about it at first. He gets better when he sees it genuinely prevents you from enjoying things or trying new things and that you just kinda default to defeated and helpless. He didn't mean to make you feel dumb, he just doesn't understand why you wouldn't want help. Until the tables turn and as he's getting worked up over something he can't figure out and you just stare at him.

He finally snaps at you what the hell you're doing and you smirk "need help? Why don't I just do it for you and you watch? Come on, you've been struggling for an hour, stop being so stubborn and just let me do it. I'll show you later, it's not hard." You feed his own lines back at him and his stomach drops.

"Oh....that feels...mmmm. Nope! Don't like that. Ok. Won't happen again, doll."

Realistically if you work with him and you make mouth noises a lot (bird whistles, tongue clicks, humming, random shrieks) he will get annoyed. It's distracting him and sometimes you don't realize you're doing it and mess up anything he tries to record. The first few times he snaps at you and it causes problems (hello rejection sensitive dysphoria) but eventually he learns how to better talk to you/communicate without accidentally convincing you he hates you.

Alastor

Probably on the spectrum himself, but it also could just be his anti-social habits. Either way he finds you entertaining and your bouts of sporadic energy and gremlin like behavior don't phase him. He's been dealing with Niffty for years.

If you sing or hum a lot to get work done, or listen to music he's all for it. But if you're the type of ADHD where work fast music=horny and bass he'll insist you wear headphones. If you're content to listen to swing (he'll compromise with electroswing) or jazz, he'll play the radio for you.

He doesn’t even care if you're a good singer or not, he just likes seeing you get into it. Will show off by singing it better than you though.

If you're someone who picks your fingers or skin, he'll slap your hands. You bleeding is making him hungry and distracting him. He'll find you something else to do with your hands. Same with nail biting.

He tends to pull his hair when stressed so if you stim with your hair he gets it and unless it's harmful (eating/pulling) he'll leave it, but if you're like him he's either cutting your hair short or braiding it.

Will die before admitting it but thinks you flapping, hopping, clapping, squealing is the most adorable thing ever. Also, laughs at you if you smack yourself, though.

Doesn't understand your memes so half your echolalia go over his head and he just kinda stares at you.

Scolds you for not sitting in the chair properly.

Smiles, nods, and occasionally says "that's nice dear" when you info dump. It's not that he doesn't care, he just can't listen to something he's not interested in for that long.

Mouth noises make his eye twitch but so long as they don't interrupt him, he won't scold you.

He understands you're not dumb but he also doesn't have the patience to help your or wait for you to get things done so he does them for you and tells you stop pouting when you get upset with him.

He likes you enough to not reject your touch and enjoys being in your space, but please refrain from happy biting the cannibal. He will bite back and it's less cute when he does.

Lucifer

The original AUDHD. You two chatter for hours about special interests.

He makes you stim toys.

You two do the adhd laugh so hard over dumb shit you gotta hold onto and smack each other thing. You both wind up on the floor.

Literally would never talk down to you or trigger your RSD. He's spent centuries feeling like he's constantly annoying, dumb, and struggling to time manage and do tasks.

Is equally fed up with people offering to do things for him because he can do it he just needs help getting started. The more you ask if he wants you to do it or when he's gonna do it the harder it is. So you two just sorta hobble together a system for getting shit done.

It's not perfect but if it gets outta hand he can just snap his fingers and fix it.

He happy flaps with his hands and wings and constantly knocks you or other shit over. It embarrasses him but you're in love. You two sometimes hold hands to do the happy bounce squeal, shaking each other.

He initiates happy bites more than you do. Honestly you both start looking like chew toys.

You two echolali all the time and share new ones you find. If you ever can't find each other, just shout one of your current vocal stims and he'll respond.

Literally, the definition of choas couple.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

💗OkayokayokayKAY.

Miguel with autistic!AFAB!reader.

Plsplspls

hii!! I made this into headcanons, hope that’s okay. little disclaimer, autism is a spectrum so what one may experience, the other may not, and bc of that, I tried to make these sorta generic. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

…

headcanons

miguel o’hara x autistic!fem!reader

word count: 468

✧.┊ MASTERLIST

— he's incredibly observant, so he picks up on lots of things most people would ignore

— the change in your demeanour, the way you stim and fidget, the way you'd essentially 'shut down'

— none of it goes unnoticed by miguel

— he's extremely patient and understanding 

— he is a spider-man/ scientist after all, so he def has lots of knowledge about it. he knows that it's a spectrum, and no two are the same, so he's spent a long time learning your behaviours and patterns to tailor his help exactly to you

— like he's trying to understand you better and see what you do like and don't like, what you need and what you don't need. boundaries and possible triggers etc etc

— he NEVER judges you, ever!! whether that be stimming, info dumping, special interests and hyper fixations, just anything !!

— I feel like he feels special to be able to see the true you (unmasked) maybe there's a pun or inside joke about both of you wearing masks

— he loves to hear what's been running riot in your brain- your new fave show, a new topic you've found interest in. he def likes to listen to you talk and would never make you feel bad for doing so

— he's careful with the way he words things, as you may struggle to understand the meaning and intention- and wouldn't want to upset you

— but he doesn't treat you like you're fragile, like you're made of glass. he gives your special treatment bc he loves you, not bc of your disability

— he makes sure that you never feel like a burden. you may apologise every so often for 'being too much work' but he reassures you constantly, saying he would have it no other way etc

— despite him wanting to be around you all the time, he knows that you need to have your alone time, especially if you're overstimulated 

— he lets you be and gives you space while still being near- he keeps a close distance essentially. close enough to let you breathe, but still there to comfort you if needed

— he has great paternal instincts but never treats you like a baby or child. he utilises his knowledge of fatherhood and uses it in ways to help you without being condescending or patronising

— sorta feel like he's a mind reader. like he just knows what you need when you need it, but without suffocating you. like he can tell if you're about to be non-verbal. and he just knows the moment before you get overwhelmed and helps you out of the situation (again without smothering you)

— he appreciates your empathy, and need for justice. dare I say, he loves your anger too (without it sounding selfish) like he admires your vast range of emotions, and how you're so human

— — — — — — — — — — ☆ — — — — — — — — — —

[meowmeowriley]

Changes: A Poll-Fic

Ch. 3 Tell Price

Ch. 1 Ch. 2

(Cheeky link to Ch. 4->) Ch. 4

Going in half cocked and desperate to get to Ghost had been one thing, but seeing things? His head wasn't on straight. He knew he needed to tell Price. He reached for his comms wearily, all the while under the watchful bloodshot eye of the centipede.

"Not great, Captain." Soap sighed. "Think I'm seeing things. Found a basement, a door with a fuck ton of locks, now I'm seeing symbols and shit when I blink." There was static for a minute more, before Price responded.

"I knew I shouldn't have let you go in there. Soap, I'm pulling the plug, get outta there, Son. You need some time off." Fuckin' shite. He debated for a moment ripping out his earpiece and charging forward, but he knew he'd been playing fast and loose lately. He's no good to Ghost if he loses his mind and gets himself killed. "Gaz, locate the basement Soap found and go in. Sounds like the kind of place they'd keep someone like Ghost." At least Gaz was going to go look for him. Small mercies. The others care about Ghost too. He had to remind himself, though deeply he felt they didn't care quite as much. Couldn't, even. The twinge in his heart wasn't jealousy, definitely not. It was probably the lack of sleep and stims he'd been taking, finally catching up to him. Gaz was capable. He'd rescue Ghost. They'd be reunited. It didn't matter that his wouldn't be the first face Ghost saw after rescue, because he'd be waiting on transport. The way Soap had, on occasion accidentally fallen asleep rested against Ghost's bicep, it was about time he returned the favor of a good pillow and a safe presence keeping a watchful eye.

Eye. The centipede. Yeah that probably should be mentioned. The man and bug had been engaged in a staring contest as it slowly skittered around him until it was passed the doorway. It was now motioning with it's eye over it's... shoulder? Soap was no entomologist. What he was, was a man who understood when a big ass bug with a big ass eyeball wanted him to follow it down an unlit corridor underground.

"Erm Cap? I'm seeing them too." The fuck?

"Say again?" Price barked. He was getting antsy.

"Yellow symbols when you blink?" He'd not mentioned the color. "Shit's all over the place. Like some kinda fucked up disappearing ink. All over the documents I've been looking at, the monitors and screens. The walls and floor. Thought I was losin' it, Sir."

"I'm worried both of you have been exposed to some sort of hallucinogenic gas." Laswell stated. Soap would've rolled his eyes had he not still been holding the bug's gaze.

"There's more, Laswell." Gaz informed them. "Glass canisters. They seem to be filled with whatever was used to write the symbols. It's only there for a moment after I blink, then it's gone. Can't tell if it's a liquid or a gel. Or a gas, even. Can't bloody see it." It was very rare to hear Gaz lose his temper, but the man absolutely sounded frustrated now.

"You both had better be wearing gloves." Soap looked down at his hands, thankful for his gloves. Worn and tattered a bit from use, but still holding on. "I doubt I have to say this but do not let that stuff touch you under any circumstances.

"Yes ma'am."

"Captain UAV inbound, once it gets there I'm going to take over overwatch, I want you to mask up and go in there. If it's a gas I don't want you compromised." She commanded.

"Rog."

"You're bringing as many of our boys back as you can, safely. Understand?" She said the word safely slowly and pointedly. Clearly indicating that she'd leave Ghost behind if either she or Price deemed it too dangerous. Soap's blood was near boiling.

"Affirm. ETA on that UAV?" Fuck you too, Captain. Soap was getting agitated again.

"Six minutes, John." She informed. The static picked up again, and when her voice finally breached it,  she sounded distorted and off. "Soap? Gaz? Masks on. Keep pushing." That was unexpected. So he wasn't getting benched.

Determination set his nerves, any shakes he'd had before were gone. He'd been given the order to keep moving, and he'd be damned if he'd make her repeat herself. "Copy that, Watcher. I'm movin in. Don't know how well comms will hold up, looks like we're going deeper."

No response from Price or Laswell, but he hadn't waited for it anyhow. He pushed in, noting that the concrete of the hall he'd been in ended at the doorway. The floor, walls, and ceiling of the new hall, Tunnel perhaps? was some sort of stone. In the dark, and using his NVG's to see, he had no way of identifying what type, but it had veins of something running through it, leading him to wonder if it was marble or quartz. Odd enough to raise his suspicions, whatever it was.

"We? Who's with you?" Gaz's voice was the only thing to break the silence other than Soap's own footsteps, and that of the centipede, who had fallen in behind him, still keeping it's distance. It seemed to have learned a lesson in personal space after he'd thrown it from his hand.

"There's a creepy ass centipede following me." He grumbled, and noticed the bug momentarily halt when he'd said that, before speeding up to fall in again. He shook away the thought that it understood and had its feelings hurt, telling himself that it must not have liked that he spoke.

"You have one too? With a hand for a head?" A fucking WHAT?!

"No? Mine's got an eye." He stopped walking and looked at the creature. "Bout as big around as a stick a' dynamite, and as long as two." A totally normal unit of measurement. "How big is yours?" The thought of a tiny baby sized hand atop the head of this thing was somehow more unsettling than the eye.

"As big around as my arm, and slightly longer I'd wager."

"Steamin' Jesus."

"Yeah, think I'd give my Gran a run for her money with the shriek I let out when it grabbed my wrist." At least Soap had managed to keep his mouth shut when his own had grabbed him. "It did stop me from entering a room with a tripwire door. Went the long way around and found the wires on the other side." Both men were silent for a beat, before Gaz began trying to contact Laswell and Price, but got no response. "Damn. Guess we're on our own for a bit." He lamented. Gaz's job was to swipe any paperwork he found, download any and all data from any computers, and, if it were safe enough, collect samples of the rumored bio weapon. Soap assumed that the yellow shit was the weapon. What else could it be?

As he continued on, the hall quickly became a downward spiraling slope. He felt off kilter, like any moment the ground underneath him would pitch further downward and he'd go tumbling. Faintly, the further down he went, he could hear... giggling? Every single hair on Soaps body stood on end. There was a man giggling below him, and he quietly crept forward.

Heh.... eheh... ahhahahah....

"Gaz, be advised there's some lunatic giggling like a schoolgirl down here."

"Oh fuck that."

Hmmm... hhmhmhmhmmhuh... aheh...

"Engaging." He whispered, raised his gun, and stalked as quietly as he could. Down.

Heh... huuuhhmmm...

Down.

Hmmheh...

Down.

Ahuheh...

The stone walls were distorting the sound, he couldn't tell how far or close the other man was, it was driving him mad.

And then he heard it. His name.

Hmmm... hhmhmhmhmmhuh... aheh...

Johnnyyyyyyy....

Hehe... aaahah....

It floated to him, the giggling uninterrupted.

Finally, finally, he must have reached the bottom, as he'd found another door.

It seemed weak, the wood would easily give, he decided. He wasted no time in planting his boot upon it and sending it crashing inwards.

Chains were attached to the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Wrapped around a man. He stood  with his head down and knees bent, but when Soap entered the room he drew himself to his full height. Blindfolded and muzzled, he spoke. One word. Voice rough, either from overuse or disuse, and muffled from the plastic of the muzzle covering his lower face,he sighed out in relief. "Johnny." It was Ghost.

(Cheeky link to Ch. 4->) Ch. 4

[dccontramundum]

anchor's endeavour commentary / pilot episode

this got so long i've had to stick most of it under a cut

the first shot we get of morse's face is so beautiful. he looks SO young. a baby.

also the subtitles are (painfully slow typing) which is so funny. his typing is painfully slow.

socks hanging on the window to dry. idk why that's so funny to me.

him not hearing mcleash over his opera even though he's talking pretty loud

also love his excuse for getting out of going to the pub with mcleash. he points at what he's typing like it's work, which is what mcleash assumes, but it's literally his resignation letter lmao

then morse once again ignoring/not hearing mcleash on the bus and just staring out the window. daydreaming. music playing in his head

he's got the beige coat instead of the green one but it's still equally thin and cheap and i hate it

lott talking to morse and mcleash like they're children

almost the first thing morse says to him is a haughty little "wouldn't you think?" comment. i love him. he's such a little bitch sometimes

then he's in his lodgings. he looks so sad and pathetic. like a wet cat

ahhhh the first interaction with thursday!!! "there is one thing, sir" and thursday turns around. and listens. and it's SO important to morse. the first person to listen to him. yeah he then dismisses the idea a second later but still. he listened.

and then immediately the next scene is morse following that line of inquiry anyway lol

when he's talking to the woman he listens. "what makes you say that?" and a thoughtful little expression on his face. i adore him. the way he reacts to thursday listening to him as though he's the first person to ever give him a chance, vs the way he's always so careful listening to others. you become the person who would've saved you the time no one did. or smth

he's so grumpy when he gets into the office and immediately gets sent out again. so grumpy. it's easy to forget how grumpy he can get because he's also so vulnerable, but really, he's very bad-tempered sometimes.

i always forget how bad he is with the blood phobia this early on. he really really can't look. keeps such a long distance away too.

eww alex from university. "didn't take?" stfu leave him alone

how much morse struggles with his social skills. alex giving him a friendly tap while he says "word of advice..." and morse looking down at his collar where he touched him in confusion

ahhh his opera idol! he tries to walk away but then he can't stop himself from grinning and it's so cute and he just has to turn around, he can't help himself

he's so shy! right up until the moment he can get back on script. his planned script for the conversation

"what can i do for you mr morse" "actually it's detective constable morse"

the first time he takes work home with him!!! literally!!! he brought evidence home!!

he's using a folded up quilt as a desk

his hands are so pretty and slender.

repeated pen clicking while he rocks himself back and forth a couple times!! stim!!

dorothea frazil and the "have we met" "i don't think so" "another life then" moment. ohhh i love it so much. it's so important.

ahhhh he's in the jag for the first time!!! his smile is so cute!!! blasting his opera!!

"friday, must be corned beef" yessss

"when it comes to reliability the fixed motion of the heavens has nothing on my win" awww <3 and also morse smiling about it

when thursday realises morse has been on the case and he just accepts it and listens. again.

oh and!! when they get in. thursday's "wait a minute" to the others, to get them to listen too. "the lad's been having a bit of a dig around the tremlett case. tell them"

how they stare at him and he starts to lose confidence. "...possibly." then they start to echo what he's saying and he looks so hopeful... and then so crushed and upset when they shoot his idea down entirely.

lmao and then the smug look when it turns out to be right.

"who's a clever boy then." lott :/

okay but when the victim's family member starts sobbing and collapses to the floor. morse's reaction is so important to me. he kneels first to rub her back. but then she wails, and he just leans forward and he's not even fully hugging her, he's sort of bracing her with his own body, like he's trying to give her something to push against. i just think it says a lot about what he would want in that situation. he wants someone to be solid while he's breaking down.

this is getting so long i keep hitting the character limit per text block and coming back to split it up

the autopsy!! oh he's trying so hard. he's trying so hard to be brave. looks away with his eyes as much as he can but without turning his head away. then there's a little wobble ( and as someone who passes out for medical reasons fairly often, that is an exceptionally accurate portrayal. there's so often a little wobble first where you don't realise you're going down, you just feel a bit unsteady ) and then there it is. he's gone.

okay but the shot where thursday catches him, you can see the very end of the shot roger going "OH SHIT". he defo dropped him lmao and they just cut the sound

"you'll be alright." sir he's unconscious on the ground

"actually sir i don't drink" "very commendable. now get that down you" noooooooo :(

actually though "if you're going to apologise, don't". that's sweet

red jag!!!! <3

when he's walking with dr stromming he's nearly jogging to keep up with him. they keep putting him near people who are taller than him!! makes him look smaller than he really is

when he stands talking to someone he often has his hands clasped behind his back. which. as someone who also does that. is sometimes a way to stop ur hands from fidgeting.

"you didn't used to be so cruel" this is one of the things i adore about morse. even with people he's friendly with, or trying to be friendly with, he doesn't hesitate to bluntly state when he doesn't like what they said. and then "poor old morse. you were never oxford material. too bloody decent, by half" so mean. why is everyone so mean to him.

when he's shaving it sort of looks like he's wearing a t-shirt ( unusual ) and it looks a little bit like it's on inside out, with the seams on the outside. it's probably just the way it's designed, but. still

thursday walking morse to the chief super's office, "just tell dcs crisp what you told me, alright?" reassuring him. i love morse's combo of arrogance and anxiety

"he's lying. i know he is" oh babe. baby boy.

"he was still in love with her, he couldn't have harmed her" hopelessly, hopelessly romantic. i love him.

nooooo he's gone to the pub upset for the first time. nooooo

"any stupidity was mine"

talking about his mother. he's so heartbreakingly vulnerable when he's talking about her. "someone soft. the scent of her hair. tenderness"

"now get out of my office before i have someone break your legs, you little bastard" and morse looks so upset and scared by that. and he does get out of his office. i love how scared he is, so so so much. a protagonist who's so visibly and frequently frightened is unusual and it's so special.

"and who gave you leave to do that?" "i did" thursday to the rescue!!!! yesss!!!

so he got scared and went to the station and then from this point on, he's got thursday with him. morse stands slightly behind him, which is so cute.

ahhh the bit where thursday sends morse out to the car to look for tobacco!! morse is so gullible sometimes i love it. i love it so much. and then he comes back and he's so surprised to find thursday committed violence. he just can't believe it.

"what about the law?" oh baby. sweetheart. your black and white thinking. i love it.

"did inspector thursday hit teddy samuels" "no sir" such an interesting moment for morse's sense of morality! and then he gets yelled at. and he reacts visibly to it. again, the vulnerability in him. he's so so reactive. he hands over his letter of resignation.

"i read your file, boy" lott calling morse 'boy'. that's the second time.

ohhh then with rosalind calloway. "you saved my life". he's referencing i think the time when he was a suicidal teen living with his father and stepmother. knowing about that from i.m. gives so much context to that scene.

"are you flirting with me?" "a little. perhaps." so soft. so shy but also so honest. SO vulnerable. that's what strikes me about so much of this episode. he's so vulnerable in so many ways and i love that about him, but he still has this edge to him that you wouldn't expect from someone with such vulnerability.

"perhaps better to have loved and lost." "so i'm told" ohhh he hurts so much. he's hurting so much.

ok ok then it cuts to the next morning, and he's on his bed, fully clothed still, dead asleep. and the note pinned to his chest is from thursday. so there's a whole ass missing scene there where thursday finds him, presumably drunk, and gets him home. so. does he go to thursday, upset and drinking? does thursday come across him?

also love how morse handed in his resignation and was absolutely set on it, and then one (1) note from thursday and he goes running straight back. all it takes is one person's belief in him.

"dear, dear? a young girl strangled [etc.] and all you can say is dear, dear?" he's so cross!!! god i love him. he's so blunt and genuine. absolutely no ability to hide his emotion. love how thursday has to rein him in.

oh he's so upset now he's worked out the truth. poor boy.

thursday wanting to go on and interrupt the performance, and morse stopping him. beautiful.

oh him crying in his room listening to her record. and crying outside her cell. and crying again realising she's dead. poor poor baby. so young and so vulnerable and so deeply heartbroken.

thursday picking him up to take him to the station. so sweet.

"mind if i drive?" ahhh he loves driving. he loves it. so cute.

morse staring at himself in the car mirror. totally zoned out. he zones out so often

"endeavour!" the way he looks so cross about that.

[autimind]

Adapting good, masking bad

"But we all mask to some extent.." Yes, yes we do. That is not the point, clueless person that I just made up.

Allistic people present themselves differently depending on location, context and interlocutor. They do this almost entirely on automatic. They can't help it, by the way. Allistic identity is built up largely around social intersections. Age, gender, race, social class, language, religion and so on and so forth.

That, however, is not what I would call masking. Masking is having to shield others from your authentic expression. Masking is a neverending more or less desperate attempt to be accepted by others. Masking puts the locus of control outside you, which is in my opinion why it doesn't work very well. Fluidly presenting differently is just pushing some aspects of your personality more than others in order to personally send a (social) message to the other. The locus of control is internal. To be sure, this also doesn't always work very well but it works well enough for allistic people to only rarely notice they are doing it.

If you ask directly, almost no one will say they hate autistics. They'll be shocked that you even ask. They do however react negatively to basically all autistic expression. We either talk too much or too little, too loudly or too softly. Our enthusiasm is called hyperfocus or monopolizing the conversation and so on. Stimming is called dispruptive behaviour. They'll basically demand we look them in the eyes all the time. There are far too many examples to list and I won't even try. You know them intimately, dear reader.

The autistic community, at least on Tumblr, talks a lot about unmasking. I'll be honest and admit that I don't know how to do that. Perhaps the layers and layers of masks are too ingrained? Then again, I think that unmasking should not have to be an autistic activity at all. It puts the onus yet again on us to take care of our own welfare when the reason we were masking in the first place is society's staggering lack of respect and acceptance for any neurodiversity.

If stimming, flapping, infodumping and such were regularly accepted by these impressibly flexible allistics then masking wouldn't be a thing and unmasking wouldn't even be a concept.

That being said.. there are ways to adapt to social situations that make life easier for all of us. I want to make it very clear that I do not recommend to start masking again. As a gay person, I am very conscious of that tendency of some to say that sure you can be gay but just don't shove it in people's faces. It's offensive and hypocritical. Still, there are ways of navigating social interactions that come from a place of strength. As an example: Asking someone "How are you?" because that is what you have been taught you have to do is masking. Asking someone "How are you?" because you genuinely care about them is showing kindness.

Kindness and well-wishing can be practised. It is an extremely wholesome affair. I have found in my own life that looking at other people as basically just trying to live their life as best they can helps enormously. Instead of always looking for their acceptance, I started to see them as fellow strugglers in this life. They have no authority, they have no special knowledge. Neither do I. It is all just one big exercise. Knowing this, I stopped being triggered so much, stopped feeling angry and hurt by every careless remark. I understood that even though people can sound as if they speak from authority, most of the time they are just doing whatever comes up in their mind. This made it possible for me to gently correct them when necessary or to just let some things go. If you act from kindness, many many situations will automatically be easier to handle.

The next thing to do, in my informed but certainly not scientific opinion, is to follow the rules of etiquette. I am well aware that compared to the average Tumblr-user I am an old guy and write like a pedantic old-age pensioner but etiquette is far more important than most people know. Etiquette, first of all, is not really about which fork to use during which course of a formal dinner. Sure, that rule is in there somewhere but that is not the point. Etiquette is about knowing beforehand what is expected and acting in such a way that everyone has as pleasant an experience as possible.

One example of a rule that is almost never followed anymore is that rule on 'flower arragement'. Picture a large social affair like a reception. Now picture all the guests as flowers and all groups of guests that are talking to eachother as bouquets, bunches of flowers. The rule says that the host (or hosts) has the responsibility to stick any single flower into a bouquet. This means that a newcomer should always be introduced to an existing group. That introduction should include some details about (possible) common areas of interest with at least one member of the bouquet. This smooths any awkwardness that even allistic people feel when they don't know anyone. A related rule says that during social affairs, a group should always welcome any new-comers and include them in the ongoing conversation. Any important conversations should not be had at all or be handled swiftly in another room.

Etiquette can be a wonderful tool for any autistic. There are not all that many important rules and all of the rules have a clear and logical reason that can be explained. We thrive on things like this! Once we understand why something is done the way it is and can see the reasons behind it and how it works, we can easily accept it and act on it. We famously don't do authority and will blatantly ignore requests when we don't see the point or can't picture how it should be done. But etiquette is an elegant system that can be explained in full. It could be an interesting SPIN, in fact.

Behavioural training and suchlike in my opinion makes one important mistake: It tries to get us to behave neurotypically by rote memorization. This doesn't work. However, we can be champions once we understand why. Why is it important to thank someone for a gift that you have just received? Let's say it is your birthday. Because you genuinely like the gift? No, absolutely not. You thank someone for the thoughtfulness, for giving you something in the first place. The actual specific gift isn't important. The giver can be anxious about how you'll react, mostly because it is very hard to find a personal gift. By thanking them, you release them from their anxiety. Etiquette has it that once given, a gift is completely yours to do with as you want. You can use it, display it, give it to someone else or throw it in the thrash. However, you don't do that right away. Why? Because the ritual of gift giving is a mutual acknowledgment as well as an opportunity to show you care.

Love on the Spectrum makes exactly the same mistake. The coaches train autistics in the social rules of dating. They then send them on a date with another autistic. I get the idea and understand it is meant well but autistics normally get on like a house on fire if there is even one common interest. We don't need training for that! Also, learning rules by rote results in stilted behaviour that wouldn't work with a neurotypical at all. However, when we understand that most of all social ritual has the goal of showing the other that they are important to us, we can accept the various niceties. Saying good morning or something like that so strangers in the street - or just nodding at them, which is what I do - is an acknowledgment. You have seen them, they exist. That is the message. An actual date needs more than that. You will have to show them that you are interested in them as a person. This is why you compliment them. This is why you ask a question, listen to the answer and ask a follow-up question. It shows your interest. By the way, compliments should always be general, authentic and never about the other's body shape.

If you feel anxious at even the thought of a social function, study etiquette. Understand why the rules are there. I garantuee you it will help. Most importantly, this is not masking. It is showing kindness to other people. It is also kind to yourself.

[gh0stchoir]

Filo hummed, summoning a cloud once they were outside. "If it's a sketchy area, I'm even more offering to bring you home. Gotta make sure your family doesn't has to worry about you getting hurt." Tao bit his lip. Yeah, as if his mom ever cared about him. Then again, Sensei would care if he was gone, right? And Tomura and Kurogiri would, too, he was sure of it. "I-is it really okay?", he asked again, really not wanting to bother Filo. The girl just smiled and patted next to her on the cloud. "Sure it is. I'm in no rush to get home, so even if it is on the other side of town, I'd just go window shopping. My mom won't come home until late anyway, so I don't have a curfew." Tao hummed, climbing on the cloud. It was surprisingly firm and soft. "Okay then. I-I'll lead you", he said, making a sound of surprise as the cloud flew a bit higher, until they were too high for the people on the street to look at them. Filo chuckled at his confused look. "I don't like people starring at me. I tend to stim while walking, you know? Waving my arms like wings, flapping my hands, dancing a bit, that kind of stuff. And people always stare with those judging eyes. It's annoying, I shouldn't have to be ashamed for acting like I do. So I avoid their eyes by being high up." Tao simply nodded, giving the first direction to the base. Oh, how well he understood. The things he'd give to never have those curious eyes on him again. What a blessing she could escape them so easily.

"So, you live with your Mom?", he asked on the way. Any info could be helpful, right? Filo smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I do. She had me when she was barely 18, didn't even really got to finish school. My dad died before she could even tell him I existed, never knew him. She had to move back with her own parents and they helped raising me. Money was super tight a lot of times, with her not being able to get a real job in the beginning. Only changed after I was a bit older and she finished school and all. Still, if you ever come over, don't expect a fancy mansion or such. Or a bunch of cool stuff in my room." Tao nodded, listening to her rambling away about her mom, grandparents and their apartment. Well, at least she wouldn't judge him for living above a bar. Yet still, hearing about such a strong connection and trust between mother and child, through such unplanned things and sacrifices. Why had his own mother been unable to do the same? To give him the same love?

"I'm sorry you never got to meet your father.." Tao looked down at his hands. "It's alright. Do you live with your dad or mom?" She asked. Tao frowned at the words. For being his age he should have two loving parents, having a nice warm home to go to. Instead one he never met and one abandoning him all those years ago. "I never got to meet my dad, actually.. My mom moved far away from him when she realized she was pregnant with me. No idea if he's alive or not." Filo nodded. "And your mom?" She asked. Tao looked away. He could still see her face, even when he tried to hard to forget it. "I live with her. S-she barely makes enough money for us so hence why we live where we do.." He lied. Better to lie and say his mother was still with him, than to blurt out he lived with villains. Especially the most wanted ones in Japan. "I-I just glad I have a place to sleep at and food. It's better than living on the streets." He gave a small smile, not knowing if he was reassuring her or himself.

"Any siblings?" Filo asked after a moment of silence. Tao paused for a second. He had no knowledge of if he had any biological siblings, as his mother never shared that information. The only person he'd consider a sibling was Tomura. He was the only other person to actually understand Tao. It took years for the two to get along. Shigaraki being his usual self and pushing Tao away. A few times snapping at him and yelling. And Tao being too scared to leave his room. Now the two were comfortable with another. Tomura would even help, the best he could, when Tao was having a mental spiral. He was always there before Tao almost lost control and destroyed anything he could. Tao also was the one who got enough money to buy Tomura those artist gloves. Now he had multiple pairs, but it was extra special that those were the first pair he'd gotten. But it's not as he could go yelling that. Tao shook his head. "I don't have any." Filo nodded with a hum.

[upside-down-theater-kid]

Arms Around Shoulders

“Can I put my arm around you?” He nods and I do. “I’m scared, too, y’know. It’s unfair. The price increase for the papes..it’s messed up. It’s ridiculous…but we’ll get through it together. After tomorrow, Pulitzer won’t know what hit him. And Albert….I-I-I,” There are so many words on the tip of my tongue that I can’t say. Not here, not now. “I-I-I’m staying with you, no matter what happens.”

Race doesn't realize just how much he loves Albert until he's injured during the strike.

Content warning: cursing and non-graphic violence (please let me know if I should add something else)

Thank you so much to my friends (including @melancholypolywog) who gave me feedback and @broadwayismybestfriend and @oliviaaaah for the endless enthusiasm!

(There are author's notes at the end)

Read it on ao3!

“I was having the most wonderful dream last night. My lips are still tingling,” says Albert. I roll my eyes.

“Was it about a pretty girl? Why would you want to kiss a girl when you could just sell the papes with me,” I ask sarcastically. It’s a question that I’ve been asking myself ever since we first met.

“No,” he replies. “It was about a leg of lamb!” Just as I’m about to tease him for his love of lamb, he yanks my cigar out of my hand.

“Hey, that’s my cigar!” He throws it several stories down and onto the ground.

“You’ll steal another.” He’s right. I’ve stolen before and I will again. Sometimes it’s cigars, sometimes it’s food in the winter when nobody ever has enough.

“Hey, you two,” shouts Jack. “Get down here or there won’t be any papers left for you to sell!”

“We’re coming! You’d miss me if I wasn’t there,” I yell back sarcastically. Al wraps his arm around me, and the warmth of his hands makes me smile.

“You ready for this, Race,” he asks.

“What kind of a newsie would I be if I wasn’t?” We walk down the fire escape and our footsteps in sync, and are prepared for whatever today will bring us. There’s always something, but it doesn’t matter as long as he’s by my side.

--

When we make our way down, there are two people that I don’t recognize. One’s a lanky guy with dark hair and nicer clothes than mine who looks to be around Jack’s age. The other is shorter, probably his kid brother.

“You buy back the newspapers that we don’t sell, right,” asks the older one when he reaches the front of the line. Everyone laughs.

“Who do you think you are? If you don’t sell the papes, you eat ‘em!” Wiesel laughs at his own joke. The Delanceys just stare at the new people intently. They give everyone the intense treatment when they’re new, but they always treat the girls harsher than the guys. That prick Morris still picks on Albert a lot, because he hates making eye contact and doesn’t know what to say when caught off-guard. The new guy introduces himself as Davey Jacobs, and his younger brother is Les, a nine year old with the enthusiasm that only comes from being new at this job.

I remember when Al was new around here. I’d been selling papers for a few years, and I had more experience than some of the others. One day, this new kid named Albert DaSilva shows up, and asks me if he knows of any good spots to sell the papers. I offer to show him around, and the rest is history. We were only eleven at the time, but even at that age I felt differently about Al than I did with my other friends. I’d only ever felt that way about some of the girls that I knew, but my feelings for Albert were more intense than that. I always have a wide grin on my face when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, or when he would briefly look at me. I love talking to him, and I don’t think that I could ever get tired of hearing his voice, even when it’s just him telling me to not be so impulsive. He doesn’t know how much I love him. Telling him never seemed right, but I will. Someday when it feels perfect. Today isn’t that day. Maybe tomorrow will be.

--

It’s evening outside, and I’m with Al as he’s finishing selling his last few papers. He’s always had a bit of a hard time selling them, but I was fine with staying out a bit later. When we were kids, we made a game of coming up with fake headlines to sell more papers. We still do it to this day.

“You’ve always been good at selling the papes, Race. I don’t know how you do it,” he says with his hands empty and nothing left to sell.

“Awww, come on Al. You’re not half-bad yourself. There’s no one else I’d rather work side by side with, six days of the week.” He smiles his perfect grin at me and I can’t help but do the same. He lets his hair loose. He always looks so handsome when he does that.

“We should be heading back to the lodging house. It’s getting dark out.” He slips his hand into mine as we walk back. We’ve been doing that for a while now. I’m tempted to kiss his cheek, but I can’t. That’s too obvious, even for me, and we’re way more affectionate than our other friends. I’m blushing the entire walk home.

--

I’ve finished selling my papes and Al drags me into an alley and draws me close and his lips are almost touching mine and - the bell rings. It was all just a dream. A fantasy that will never come true. I drowsily walk downstairs and towards another day of work. Jack is first in line for his papers, like always.

“It’s sixty cents for a hundred papers, Kelly,” says Wiesel as Jack gives him his 50 cents.

“But it’s always been fifty cents,Weisel,” he protests.

“Not anymore,” sneers Oscar. “Sixty cents, pay up.” Everyone murmurs. Why is he doing this? We barely survive as it is, and now we have to pay an extra dime for the same amount of papes?

“That’s bullshit. Pulitzer is already wiping his ass with cash, so why should we have to pay an extra ten cents?” Everyone else starts screaming along with me. Albert starts tapping his foot with no sign of stopping. Davey stares at Jack intently as he leads everyone away from the Delanceys and Weisel. I stay back with a nervous Albert.

“Can I put my arm around you?” He nods and I do. “I’m scared, too, y’know. It’s unfair. The price increase for the papes..it’s messed up. It’s bullshit…but we’ll get through it together. After tomorrow, Pulitzer won’t know what hit him. And Albert….I-I-I,” There are so many words on the tip of my tongue that I can’t say. Not here, not now. “I-I-I’m staying with you, no matter what happens.”

“So will I, Race,” he replies. He’s stopped stimming, and I think he’s less worried. He leads me towards everyone else. He holds my hand. He’s never done that before. I smile at him and he grins back. I love him.

--

“Race! Albert! You ready to strike tomorrow,” says Finch.

“You bet we are,” I shout back. Albert raises his fist with a grimace on his face.

“Hey, you three! I need to talk to you,” says Jack as he approaches us.

“What about,” I ask as he sits down next to us.

“You three,” he begins. “Have always had a knack for getting yourselves into trouble. Mostly Race and Finch,” Al smiles at that. “And you especially Race. You just say whatever you think,” he pauses. “Just…..don’t get yourselves hurt or into trouble tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” we murmur in agreement. Elmer is shouting about something that we can’t make out.

“Hey, quiet down! Some of us need to get some sleep before a strike,” Jack hollers. With that, people start quieting down. No one wants to disrespect the authority of our new union leader. Both he and Finch leave.

It’s dark out here on the fire escape stairs at night. Normally Al would be looking up at the sky and gazing at the stars, but he’s looking at the ground, deep in thought.

“Hey, Race,” he asks. “How long do you think this strike will last? Those trolley workers have been striking for three weeks now… Do you think that will happen to us?”

“I don’t know how long it’s going to last. I don’t know how long it will be before they put the price of the papes back down to normal. It can’t last three weeks. It can’t. We can’t go three weeks without pay, because that’s three weeks without food….” I can’t stop myself from spiraling. Albert wraps his arm around me.

“Race, breathe in. Breathe out. It will be okay. You have me, remember?”

“But, Al,” I protest. “Nothing is going to happen from this. We’re just teenagers without a plan.”

“We’re teenagers with a cause and Pulitzer can’t top that, can he?” He glances at me briefly and I look back at him. He does his happy stim and looks away from me. I wish I knew why. “We should probably be going to sleep soon,” says Albert.

“Oh yeah, we should. Good night!”

“Good night.” He smiles at me before walking away. I wish I had the guts to say “I love you.” before I told him “good night.” Someday I will. Someday.

--

Albert is stimming as we’re waiting for the newsies from other boroughs to show up, and I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Do you think they’re coming,” I ask him. I don’t think they are, but I don’t know if I’m the only pessimist here.

“No,” he replies. “I think we’re on our own for the strike.” He squeezes my shoulder. Several minutes pass by and murmurs of “no one is coming” and “it’s just us” become more and more common. Scabs start lining up to get their papes.

“Davey, please.” I hear Jack plead from a few feet away. “You’ve got to say something. Convince them to stand with us on the strike.” He stares at him.

“Listen up,” Davey turns towards them. “Maybe the others aren’t coming. Maybe we’re on our own. But we still have to get out there and fight for what is right. We need to seize the day. We’ll find a way to stop this…” I tune him out. I’m so worried about everyone and what could happen to them if this doesn’t go according to plan. I don’t think I could stand to see any of the others hurt. I couldn’t stand it to see Albert hurt. If the strike fails, I don’t know what will happen to us, and if we’ll get carted off to the Refuge or what. Albert can’t get stuck there, he can’t.

When I finally snap out of it, they’ve joined us, and so have some others. They’re teenagers around our age, hired muscle to stop us from striking. They throw the first punches. I’m able to fight them off, but I’m still getting bruises that will look nasty tomorrow, and it looks like Al will as well. The others are having a harder time, and Les and Specs are getting beat up pretty bad. Suddenly, the police arrive.

“Finally! It was about time you showed up!” Right after Specs says that, one of those pigs punches him. Fuck the police. They start pummeling the other newsies and screaming at them to stop striking. They’re going to keep on hurting them, the only people that I’ve ever considered my family. I stay by Albert’s side. Some thugs start punching us and we punch back. I’m bruised and sore, but I’m able to keep going and fight them off. Al is able to get one off him as well, but I’m worried that he’ll have a black eye tomorrow.

We’re about to go help our friends with their fights, but the Delanceys appear and Oscar hits me before I can make the first move. I wish the pain would stop for just a second, and for my ears to stop ringing. Morris punches Al in the stomach. I try to help him, but Oscar shoves me to the ground before I can do anything. My head is pounding and I’m bleeding a bit. Just as I stand up, he does it to me again. It looks like Morris is giving Albert the same treatment. Everything is sore, and my nose is bleeding. Once I’m up and have regained my balance, I’m able to deliver some punches to Oscar with sore and swollen fingers.

“Eat shit,” I shout. Just as I’ve almost got him to the ground, Morris kicks Al repeatedly and stomps on his leg. Albert howls in pain as the brothers run away to torment someone else.

Time seems to slow down as Al is falling to the ground. Everyone is screaming and fighting around us, but I tune it all out. I can’t hear or see anything happening around me. There’s just his face and the tears in his eyes that he’s holding back and the ones that are already falling down; his swollen and bloody lip and his unruly hair. Just before he falls to the ground, I catch him in my arms.

“Al, I love you,” I say softly before he goes unconscious. Time goes by in a blur as I pick him up and run through the crowd. I need to get him to the lodging house. Somewhere safer where no one is trying to beat him up. I’m able to get to the lodging house and lie him down. I hope he’s okay. I need him to be okay. I can’t lose anyone else.

--

It’s getting dark outside when Al opens his eyes and tries to sit up.

“Race? Is that you,” he asks quietly. I can’t stop myself from grinning.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m glad you’re awake. I was so worried about you.” It’s getting late, and for a while I didn’t know if he would even wake up.

“I think I need to lie down,” mumbles Albert and he puts his head back down. I lie down next to him. We gaze into each other’s eyes for a second before he looks away. “What happened when I was knocked out,” he asks. I pause for a second.

“After you were knocked out, I ran you up here,” he nods. “A few hours later, Davey came by to tell me that Snyder took Crutchie. He took Crutchie to the Refuge,” I say solemnly.

“Wait, you stayed here all day waiting for me to wake up,” he asks.

“Yeah, of course I did,” I reply. “What did you expect? That I would just leave you here all alone?”

“Before the strike I thought that you would have just…kept on protesting without me,” he says slowly.

“I needed to make sure that you were safe. If I had left you here and something bad happened…..I don’t think I could have forgiven myself.” As he blushes and inches closer to me, he makes eye contact.

“I sort of remember what you said before I passed out. And….did you actually that you love me? Or did I just imagine that?” My jaw drops. He remembered that? What do I say to him? “I hope you said it, because I love you too.” My heart is pounding. I don’t know what to say. “Race,” he pauses. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” I answer softly. I never thought we would, but we do, and for a moment it feels like it’s just me and him alone in the world.

“I’ve dreamed of doing that for such a long time,” I say softly.

“How long,” he asks.

“Around the time when we first met. I felt differently about you from anyone else I knew,” I’ve wanted to tell him this for so long. He smiles.

“I’ve always loved the only newsboy who let me sell papes with him when I was new.” I brush his loose hair away from his eyes.

“Selling with you on your first day was the best decision I ever made.” I look at him for a second. “Can I kiss you again?”

“For sure.”

Author's Notes:

oH nO oUr AlBeRt It'S bRoKen

(I know it's an outdated reference but I couldn't resist)

I was going to write this in third person...but I didn't want to get out of my comfort zone and once I started I couldn't stop. Hopefully it will be different in the next fic.

[leolynn]

more ghostbusters headcannons because i cannot stop thinking about that movie

- okay i've already talked about how phoebe is autistic (and that they're nonbinary, i'll be using they/she for her) and thats literally a fact, theres no debate there

- so we're gonna think about stimming

- they flap their hands when theyre really excited

- but when shes nervous they quickly touch each of their fingers to their thumbs

- they saw trevor do it once and she hasn't been able to stop doing it since

- he was really just practicing guitar chords in the air but hey anything to help his little sister

- he took lessons when his dad was around and they could afford them.

- his guitar was the last birthday present from his dad he ever got.

- he doesn't own one, but he taught himself ukulele

- he can fake it on piano, too. usually sounds jazzy.

- he likes 80's music, rock, and alt music, with the occasional rap or pop song thrown in

- he makes lucky this TERRIBLE mixtape and she treasures it

- guys. guys. please can we talk about how much trevor cares about his younger sibling????

- they're three years, two months, and one week apart in age. because i said so.

- they don't always get along, he loves to tease her but most of the time it doesn't bother them like he wants it to so he leaves her alone

- she doesn't like physical affection, so he shows his appreciation for them in different ways

- words of affirmation is a big one for phoebe, so often trevor will say things like "that's awesome dude!" even when he doesn't really understand what they're doing

- he knows full well that phoebe is smarter than he is

- it bothered him growing up because she got more attention than he did, but when they started showing traits of autism, a lot of that praise disappeared and was replaced with crueler words.

- thats when he knew he had to protect her

- because if it was big enough for his dad to leave, it was big enough for other people to taunt his baby sister about

- trevor misses his dad so much

- he has his phone number on his phone, but most of the time his dad never picks up or says "hey buddy, i can't talk right now, can i call you back?" and never does, so trevor has kind of given up on him.

- his dad doesn't send christmas or birthday presents anymore either

- dad wasn't good with finances either, but having two incomes definitely helped

- phoebe, having never really been close to him, doesn't miss him as much as they would miss the idea of a father figure like some of their book characters have. they definitely see Gary as a father figure once she gets used to him

- phoebe is a massive reader!!! obviously. they mostly read nonfiction and textbooks, college papers, things like that, but they enjoy a good novel here and there.

- their reading level has always been insane.

- trevor and callie have never been readers so the only books they have around were either Egon's old books or belong to phoebe.

- GARY !!!!

- gary loves to take the kids out.

- it gives callie a night off to relax and take care of herself

- and its great bonding time for the kids!

- he takes them to dinner and sometimes they go see movies. he makes sure to check the IMDB listing for any content he wouldn't want either of them to see. he doesn't take phoebe to anything rated higher than PG-13 but he and trevor see an occasional R-rated movie

- he buys them popcorn and candies and sometimes even sodas because he actually really really loves spoiling them.

- gary's love languages are quality time and gift giving

- callie has a ton of little trinkets from gary

- he goes to the local antique store and goes "this reminds me of her. i should get it for her"

- a quality man

- they do have the occasional stupid argument and most of the time gary can't figure out what he's done wrong until after callie has stormed upstairs and locked herself in her bathroom and one of the kids points out the exact thing that hurt her feelings

- he obviously never means to hurt her feelings its just sometimes they're not good at communication

- but if he knows he's messed up, he'll make her bed and heat up some tea and rehearse his apology until she's cooled down enough to unlock the bathroom door to talk to him

- they're not perfect, no one is, but they love each other.

- trevor accidentally taught phoebe to swear and now they won't stop going "shitfuck!" like its one word. he thinks its kind of funny but callie doesn't.

- podcast, when hes much much older, joins tumblr

- his posts are super detailed supernatural events and snippets of his podcast

- he gets a couple more listeners because of the account (and their youtube channel!)

- and then he convinces phoebe to join tumblr too

- their blog is completely empty except for one or two posts about the ghostbusters

[mwolf0epsilon]

Febuwhump Day 17 - Self-Inflicted Wounds

Summary: Before he got his toothpicks, Crosshair used to bite his wrists. One day he bit too hard...

Warning: Unintentional self-harm.

[As someone who has a tendency to start chewing on my own hands when nervous, and who has a sibling that does it more often than I do, I highly recommend either getting an oral stim toy, or keeping a chewy treat on you. The scarring isn't worth it.]

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

---

---

Hunter was the one to figure it out when it happened. Some things you just couldn't ignore, no matter how hard you tried, and for Hunter blocking things out was already a monolithic chore. So when he smelled blood, he just couldn't turn a blind eye to it. He had to find which of his little brothers had gone and gotten himself hurt this time.

Frankly he'd assumed Wrecker would have been the one, as he was as graceless and clumsy as he was bigger and stronger than the rest of them. But then, Hunter found him in his cot napping with his Lula clutched tightly to his side. That had left Tech who tended to nick himself with his tools, and Crosshair who was usually only trouble when he set foot outside their quarters.

Tech was reading some sort of article about lactose-intolerance and the affects of milk based products on the diverse species of humanoids that lived in all corners of the galaxy. His words, not Hunter's.

Crosshair was in the 'fresher, staring in numb fascination as he bled from his left wrist. He'd been gnawing on it again, despite 99's warnings that he might atrophy the limb beyond repair if he kept at it like he had been as of late...

"Cross..." Hunter sighed. His younger brother looked at him quietly, seeming somewhat lost before holding up his bleeding wrist. They were only just barely past 6 years old, and already they understood some basic medical care. Enough that they knew where some of the vital stuff was and that blood coming out so readily was not a good sign. "Why?"

"Back and joints hurt again..." His little brother wouldn't meet his eyes. He looked embarrassed even. "Wanted to divert it somewhere else..."

"So you tore up your wrist?"

"Didn't mean to..."

Their squad didn't have a set medic. They were being trained for specialised covert missions that may or may not ever come to fruition, so they all had to know a little bit of how to put each other back together. Luckily there's no stitching involved today. Hunter hated suturing wounds. The needles made him nervous.

A good clean and some bandaging would do. Provided Crosshair would stop chewing on his wrists.

"There has to be a better way to 'divert energy' little brother..." Hunter grumbled.

"I really can't help it Hunter..." The keen-eyed clone glanced up, looking almost hurt that his brother didn't seem to understand him. "I just.... I have to bite. I can't help it."

"I know, you've told me... But there has to be something else you can bite, other than yourself..." Hunter clarified. "Like how Tech bounces his leg and flaps his hands when he's excited about something, or how Wrecker has Lula and his breathing exercises when he's feeling overwhelmed..."

"And you and your knife tricks...?"

"Yeah..." He nodded.

"I don't wanna bite Lula. Or your knives." Crosshair pouted.

"I'm not saying you should... I just.... We'll figure something out. Just, don't bite your wrists anymore. Ok?" Hunter made sure to check that the bandages were still secure.

Crosshair sighed, but he could see the way his eyes seemed to light up slightly. His brother tended to emote solely through the one thing that made him so special. His eyes. Hunter hoped he wouldn't ever forget how to read his brother's moods.

"Ok..."

A year later, the issue got worse as their training grew more intense. The more pressure they were under, the more they all struggled to bare the weight of it all. The more they struggled, the more they acted up. Crosshair's wrists were a mess of bite mark scarring and calluses. If it got any worse.... Hunter feared the outcome...

"It's an oral fixation." Tech explained. "Out of all of us, he's had the most detached clinical experiences. It was bound to manifest in his behaviour in some way that indicated the deficient child-rearing."

"I don't care what it is. I just want our little brother to not end up bleeding to death because he ripped his own arms apart with his teeth..." Hunter hissed.

"What would you have me do? I am not a mind healer Hunter... Do you not think I haven't tried to find solutions?" Tech glared as he rebuked his older brother. "What we require is a substitute."

"A substitute?"

"Yes, a substitute for him to bite, rather than his wrists... Something with texture perhaps?"

"Is there no way to just... I don't know... Discourage him from biting at all?" Hunter asked.

"And subject him to any more behaviour correction measures? We've seen what that's done to him already... The more the Kaminoans go to try to fix, the less of him returns each time..."

"I... No, you're right." Hunter sighed in defeat. "What do you haven in mind?"

"Toothpicks are fairly easy to come by. They're quite cheap, have a nice texture to them, and the earthy wooden taste will likely sooth him. If not, we can always try lollypops, but I doubt Wrecker wouldn't pester him for some... He's got quite the sweet tooth."

Toothpicks it was. Hunter hoped they'd be enough to put an end to Crosshair's persistent biting problem.

[wanderinginksplot]

Just for Kix

Previous | Masterlist

Vent

"Hey, look who finally decided to show up!" a friendly voice called out as Kix walked into the GAR's main medbay.

"Curl, you di'kut, there's no one else here," Kix complained, though the grin on his face took the sting out of the insult he tossed to his fellow medic.

"Yeah, but the others are on their way," Curl said defensively, gripping Kix's forearm in greeting. Kix squeezed Curl's 104th-gray vambrace in return before helping to gather some of the medbay's most comfortable chairs.

'The others' were the other medics of various battalions. Every few months, the GAR brought some of the older medics back to Coruscant to be recertified. This class was going to be great or terrible, Kix hadn't decided. With some of the brothers he heard were scheduled to be here, it could go either way, but it was sure to be memorable.

Still, it would be good to see everyone again. They had decided to meet here as soon as everyone's transports arrived. Classes didn't start until the next morning, but everyone needed a chance to complain about the idiots they were in charge of.

"Are all the transports here?" Kix asked.

Curl started to say something, but he was cut off by heavy footsteps approaching the medbay door. A large trooper stepped in, his sheer size and the weight of his heavy muscle making the floor reverberate a little with every step. His armor, altered to fit his increased muscle mass, was painted with swirls of 327th yellow.

When he caught sight of them, he bobbed his head and removed his helmet. "Kix, Curl," he said in greeting, his low voice rumbling through the room like thunder.

"Limit," Kix returned.

"Well, if it isn't the most popular medic in the GAR," Curl joked, beaming at the man. "Heard you couldn't keep the females away last time you were at 79's, vod."

Limit's face flushed. "Stop it, Cu- Curl. I get enough of that from my- my own men."

"Leave him alone," Kix chided, shoving at Curl's shoulder. "Keep it up and I'll tell Wolffe you were bullying Limit."

Curl was irreverent, but Kix thought that threatening to go to his commanding officer would make him back off - especially with a CO as ill-tempered as Wolffe. Curl seemed unphased, however.

"Oh, yeah?" Curl challenged. "Maybe I'll tell him you were messing with Limit. He's still mad at you for joking about his cybernetic eye."

"You j-joked about Commander Wolffe's eye?" Limit asked, looking shocked and a bit horrified.

Kix felt an uncharacteristic surge of guilt. Limit was everyone's favorite brother. Disappointing him was like hitting a youngling.

"You didn't have to see how bad it was, Limit!" he defended. "I was scraping black goo out of it. He's lucky it didn't catch fire, and Curl is lucky he didn't have to deal with it!"

"Yeah, but I had to treat your general that one time," Curl tossed back.

"And I'm sure it was terrible for you," Kix said dryly.

The one time General Skywalker had been injured and admitted he needed a medic, Curl had been the one to treat him. Kix had spent his entire career dragging his general into the medbay for every injury, but Skywalker came and asked Curl to all but perform a battlefield surgery!

Curl had been insufferable after that.

"You know better than to make fun of someone who came to you- to you for treatment, Kix," Limit told him, deep voice saddened.

"Yeah, Kix," Curl gloated, beaming from behind Limit's impossibly broad shoulder.

"Come over here, Curl," Kix invited. "I want to show you this new method of spinal adjustment I learned. Only a mild chance of paralysis."

The door opened once again, this time admitting a trooper who wore Coruscant Guard crimson even out of uniform.

"Wow, Ink," Curl commented. "Didn't even bother to dress up, huh?"

"Got off duty an hour ago," Ink grunted. "Didn't want to be in my armor longer than I had to."

True enough, the trooper wore a crimson shirt with sleeves that barely reached his elbows. Wearing civvies to a medic meeting, even one that wasn't GAR-official, was a bold move. Everyone's civilian clothing was open to mocking, and Ink was no exception.

Of course, Curl didn't limit himself to Ink's clothing.

"What happened to your arms, vod?" he asked, seeming to fight a grin.

Ink was known among troopers for his tattoos. Intricate, Mandalorian-inspired patterns traced along the entirety of his back, shoulders, and arms. Ink had been expanding the maze of tattoos lately, and they had now spread down his forearms almost to his wrists. Of course, Curl was probably talking about the spots where messy splotches of color filled the precise outlines of the pattern.

At Curl's question, Ink glanced down at his forearms and shrugged. "The Guard had to investigate a fire on one of the lower levels. There were some younglings there."

He said it like it was a full explanation and - from him - it was. Ink melted around younglings of every species, despite how much he scared their parents.

Kix hid a smile of his own. "How's life with the Corrie Guard treating you?"

"He shou-should be the one doing the treating," Limit joked.

"Hilarious," Ink deadpanned. "Guard life is good. Treated a sprained ankle last week. Di'kut jumped down a level and a half without a jetpack."

"Hey, you know the rules," Curl objected. "No med talk until everyone is here."

"Who are we waiting on?" Kix asked.

"Heeeeeyyyyyyyy!" Shatter cheered, bursting through the door like he had been waiting for an introduction. Sprain followed close behind, throwing his arms outward like he was accepting applause.

"You didn't start without us, did you?" Sprain asked when Shatter finally paused to breathe.

"Just a short story about Wolffe," Limit admitted, looking guilty. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for, Limit," Shatter forgave easily, gripping Limit's forearm in a quick warrior's greeting.

"Besides, we've all heard about Wolffe's eye," Sprain added. "Kix has been complaining about it for months."

"Was I supposed to stop?" Kix asked, mildly affronted. "I can still smell it!"

"Gross," Ink contributed.

"Gross? I'm gonna assume you're talking about that sad excuse for civvies," Shatter jabbed. "I mean, I wasn't gonna say anything, but it looks like something a Weequay would wear."

Ink snorted. "At least they didn't run out of dye for my shirt like they did with your hair."

Everyone else in the room chuckled at that - except Sprain, who had a single streak of dye up the back of his hair to match his brother. Shatter's was 212th gold, of course, while Sprain's was 41st Elite Corps green.

"I would be more offended by that if we weren't talking to the unanimously-voted best medic in the GAR," Sprain said, grinning.

"Is it true you actually got Fox to sleep more than five hours straight?" Shatter asked.

Kix perked up. This was new information… Fox was infamous for his lack of regular sleep, and infamously stubborn when it came to setting professional limits for sake of his health.

Ink leaned back in his chair and crossed his color-swatched arms over his chest. "I can neither confirm nor deny that story. Medic-patient privilege."

"C'mon, Ink," Curl wheedled. "No one's ever gotten Fox to sleep that long, especially not an almost-shiny like you."

Ink shot a glare in Curl's direction.

"However you d-did it, good job," Limit congratulated sincerely. "The Commander needs to take better care of- care of himself."

"We're here to learn new stuff to use on the field, right?" Kix mused slowly. "Well, I have a general who likes to avoid sleep. Can you give me some tips, Ink?"

Curl snorted. "Maybe another medic just has to ask."

Sprain, having heard the Curl-treating-Skywalker story before, just elbowed Curl. "Yeah, Ink, help Kix out. Of course, I don't need any help at all, since General Unduli believes in living a life of balance..."

"Shut up, Sprain," Shatter told his brother. "We get it; your general actually takes care of herself. Ink, if the circles under Kenobi's eyes get any darker, I'm going to get called in for dereliction of duty. Help a vod avoid a court-martial, would you?"

Ink sighed. "I can't be specific, but… did you know that certain Coruscant businesses will package unflavored protein powder in stim packages?"

Shouts of laughter greeted his carefully worded advice.

"Is that ethical?" Limit asked, sounding a bit troubled by the idea of deceiving a patient.

With a shrug, Ink told him, "More ethical than letting the Head Commander catch a plasma bolt in his shebs because he's too tired to function when his overlapping stims wear off."

Limit still looked doubtful, but Kix made a mental note of the trick. The general and commander didn't use stims except in dire circumstances - claiming that the Force sustained them - but the captain was known to be more reliant on non-sleep methods than Kix would prefer. And don't even get him started on Fives and Echo. When the ARCs were attached to the 501st, Kix could feel his heart working overtime.

"Speaking of catching a bolt, is it true you threatened to shoot one of your troopers, Curl?" Kix asked, relishing the looks of shock on the faces of the other medics. He had waited until everyone was present to drop that particular bit of news.

Curl looked surprised, for once. "How did you hear about that?"

"I have my ways," Kix said mysteriously. It paid to be friends with officers from other battalions, and his friendship with Sinker had proven it on multiple occasions.

Looking murderous, Limit drew himself up to full height. "You what?"

Curl knew when to get out of the line of fire and took a few steps away from the mass of muscle that was Limit. "It's not as bad as it sounds! Some of the members of the Wolfpack were experimenting with their jetpacks. I overheard a plan to drop a trooper from cruising altitude and have the other men catch him on the way down. I told them that they wouldn't have to worry about the enemy if they tried it."

Shatter blew out a breath. "Your battalion is something else, Curl."

That was the general consensus, if the nods and grunts around the room were any sign.

"So? Am I forgiven, Limit?" Curl asked, his eyes dancing.

Limit clenched his jaw. "I just don't think there is any- any cause to threaten one of your own troopers. Their safety is your concern, and they get enough threats from outsiders."

Sprain looked curious. "And what do you do when one of your troopers refuses to consider his own safety?"

"I talk to him," Limit answered simply. "Last miss- mission, Lieutenant Galle tried to hide an injury from me. When I found out about it, I treated- treated him and we had a talk about the responsibility of command and the importance of being at your- at your best when the lives of your vode are at risk."

"How did he take that talk?" Kix asked. Galle was notoriously stubborn and took criticism extremely poorly.

"He cried and admitted that I was right."

Surprised laughter met that pronouncement.

"Psychological warfare is the worst kind," Ink told him. "I'd rather someone just shoot at me."

"You don't mean that," Curl said, though his voice made it a question.

Shatter raised his eyebrows. "Would you rather get shot at or have Limit tell you that your life choices were bad?"

With a long look in Limit's direction, Sprain shrugged. "I'd go under fire any day."

"And I sup-suppose you all just threaten your men?"

"Sometimes, you can bribe them instead," Curl countered, keeping a steady distance between Limit and himself.

Any attempt at coherent conversation disintegrated from there, as the medics fell into arguments about the best way to handle stubborn patients. Kix fought a grin as he listened to them all. With medics like these fighting for the Republic, the CIS didn't stand a chance.

---

A/N - As a note, stims are canonically injected, but this is a theoretical powdered version. (Go with it.) I know some of you have told me your hopes for a happy ending for Kix. While I'm sure he continues to help where he can in his current timeline, the sequel era just doesn't inspire me enough to write a sequel-based happy ending for him. However, the idea of a medic group chat is one that has stuck with me throughout this series, and I wanted to include it in part here! You already know Curl, Shatter, and Sprain. Limit was introduced in the Bly chapter of Nobody Listens to Kix. Ink is new and got his name from his tattoos (not because of my username, I promise!). I hope it provided a lighthearted end to this particular fic.

Unfortunately, this is the last chapter of this story at this point. Unless I get some new ideas or surrender to my urge to write more about these OCs, this is the end of this particular story. If anyone has interest in a different work about several members of the Coruscant Guard, I have one I'm publishing as my new weekly-updated story (found on my masterlist). If not, no worries! It has been an absolute joy writing for you! Thank you, as always, for reading! Have a wonderful day!

[edencantstopfallininlove]

A Declaration

You might want to read this all the way through. There’s something quite important that I want to share with you guys... However, if you reblog, don’t spoil the surprise in your response or the tags! In light of more recent posts, feel free to ignore that now!

As a disclaimer, I know nothing about fashion and I make that pretty obvious, but heck it

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

How fortunate it was that the streets of Port Maerifa were so quiet that evening. The blue accents of the city's architecture were bolstered by the coming of twilight. A faint sea breeze danced about from the docks. As day slowly shifted into night, a pair of footsteps could be heard ambling along the streets.

Dhar was leading the way, guiding his lover by the hand as they moved towards their destination. This was a date they had been planning together for weeks; now that it was finally drawing to a close, Heather took the opportunity to really drink in the sight of the man who stole her heart. He had abandoned his usual armour in favour of a white shirt with a leather jacket, indigo denim slim jeans and black dress shoes that seemed to shine a little in the blue hour. Over his shoulder, he wore a small musky red bag with a thin strap; she wondered why he would need it on a date, but proceeded not to think about it again once they were out the door. All in all, she thought he looked just as gorgeous as always, if not even more so.

For their date, the two had put together a whistle-stop tour of their favourite spots. Each destination had a story behind it, a reason for them to slow down and reminisce. Deep down, Heather contemplated the possibility that there was a greater motive behind the whole thing. The final stop on their tour had taken them to a spot they knew all too well. The arch at the city’s foot.

"Oh, this place," said Heather, thinking aloud. "Remember the whole 'who stays and who goes' talk we had here? When you told Ajna - you told everyone - that you had nowhere to belong?"

"That I do," replied Dhar, "but a lot's changed since then. And I find myself thinking that less and less as time goes by; as I spend more new days with you."

"You’re so right. I've been thinking about the friends we've made on our journey, how we've come to be like family to each other. I hope you've felt it, Dhar. That there are people who care about you and are proud of how far you've come."

There was a long, comfortable silence as the couple stood side by side and drank in the atmosphere of the city. Feeling the urge to happy-stim, Heather clicked together the short heels of her black flats. She loved little gaps like this, where she could take a moment to feel the cool air brushing against her skin, ruffling the knee-length skirt of her blue summer dress, and appreciate everything that had built up to this moment. Every high, every low, every failure and triumph that led the two of them down their respective paths, and to each other.

"Marry me."

And then she heard them. The two words that dissolved her train of thought. Heather flinched on the spot as she tried to make sense of everything. The gentleness in Dhar's voice, the feeling of his fingers interlocking with hers, the fondness in his eyes... Was he staring at her the whole time?!

"Dhar, have you been hanging around Baozhai?" she asked, stammering her way through. "Did she imbibe you into this before we left?"

Dhar had to laugh. "Gods no, you know I won't drink that crap of hers!"

"Neither will I, to be fair."

"Come on, I'm serious! I want us to get married. I can’t think of anything better than being able to spend the rest of our lives like this."

Still not entirely believing what she was hearing, Heather turned to hold her lover's free hand as their gazes met.

"Just being with you is... already so much more than I ever thought I deserved. You know my past. There have been times when I've wondered whether you'd be happier without me. And yet, no matter how far I fell into the cycle of self-doubt, you've always been there to help me back onto my feet. It's you who moulded me into the man I am now. Someone who truly feels worthy of this woman's love. And believe me, you deserve it all in return. I want to remind you every day of how strong you are. How supportive, how compassionate, how beautiful, inside and out. Cliche as it sounds, you are, without a doubt, the best thing that ever happened to me. I mean, I literally wouldn't be here if not for you. Whatever the future holds for us, I want us to always be around to support each other. Because you and I? We're a team."

After a brief pause, Dhar abruptly shifted a single hand around in the shoulder bag. "Shit, where'd I put the damn thing...?"

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'll help you look for it if you-"

Heather was silenced first by the sight of the black box (it wasn't all an elaborate joke), then by the ring itself as Dhar knelt down and opened it - the silver band twisted upwards, with one line on each side adorned with amethysts that led the eye towards a single large orange topaz. What else could she do in that moment but gasp?

"Heather, my saviour, my rock, my love... Will you make me the happiest person in all the worlds?" His hopeful smile was offset now by glassy eyes, looking at Heather as if she were the most incredible thing to ever exist as he finally got to the big question. "Will you marry me?"

Heather's eyes sparkled as she preserved the memory of a display of love and vulnerability that she never would've expected from Dhar when they first met. But he was not the same man he was back then. He had grown so much kinder, nobler, truer; her heart swelled with pride at the privilege of being a part of that change.

If only he knew she’d made up her mind long ago.

"Yes!! Of course!" she cried as she dived in and enveloped her beloved in the biggest, tightest embrace he had yet been given. Dhar was, frankly, amazed that he managed to maintain his hold on the ring box.

"Woah, don't hug me! I should be hugging you!!"

He was quick to get over the shock, though, melting into his now fiancée’s touch and, at last, allowing himself to cry. After holding back long enough to say his piece, hearing the answer he had sought cemented this as the best day of his life, and now was the time to set his elation free.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess right now..." he said when he let go after what seemed like aeons.

"A hot mess, maybe," replied Heather with a laugh as the ring was placed on her finger. "Still, you did say you'd be the happiest person in the worlds. You kind of asked for this!"

"I suppose I did, yeah. But it was worth it."

Almost instinctively, Dhar slid two fingers under Heather's chin, lifting her head to lock eyes with her in a silent request for permission. She responded with a subtle nod and, in the fading moonlight, accompanied by distant ocean waves, their promise of a union was sealed with a deep, lingering kiss, hands resting in each others’ hair, smiling against each others lips. It came so naturally, like it was always meant to be.

"Thank you, Heather. For everything. I love you... So, so much."

"Likewise, Dhar. I promise you won't regret this. Here's to our future - together."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Soooo yeah, you probably all saw this coming a mile away, but...

As of today, Dhar and I are engaged!

An official announcement post will be going out at some point in the next few days, fingers crossed!

For reference, the ring looks like this: (psst everyone pitched in)

@ode-to-joie @tuff-and-fluff @f-orever-and-ever @abigailsfictionalothers @kitten-ships @dazailovemail​ @growlitheships @fawnships @fireemlmblem​ @rosepetalcharm​ and everyone who’s been kind enough to listen to me gush about my selfship!

[marshmallowprotection]

Sorry to... get a little dark here... and if it makes you too uncomfortable, you can ignore this, but it's been in my thoughts off and on recently.

So, um, when it comes to self-harm, when I bite, it's never enough to cause like actual harm -- I don't work at one spot. Except once. About a month or so ago. I chewed the base of my finger almost enough to make it bleed, and would casual gnaw on it absent-mindedly, or when stressed, 2ould bite down hard because the sharp pain calmed like 75% of my nerves and made it easy to think again. But it's honestly not my preferred way, so I left it alone. It's still a blatant scar, and I occasionally chew lightly still, sometimes on the opposite hand, but that's usually because I just need something to do, not a means of harming myself.

But when I was chewing my finger, I did it right in front of my friends -- in front of my mom even -- and nobody noticed what exactly I was doing. They didn't recognize it for what it was. On the one hand, I was grateful, because I liked being able to do it whenever without anyone bringing attention to it, but on the other hand, it comes back down to that idea of -- no one ever knows what they do. They just let me do it and don't try to stop me, except maybe with a few worried words, but I'm careful, I have no intentions of leaving this world anytime soon. It's just something to stave off the anxiety or the boredom. Sometimes I just get the urge because, well, I'm a bit addicted. But it's off and on, those bouts of harming myself, and there's no real pattern. If I don't feel like it, I won't do it.

Anyways, what I'm trying to say it, what if the Choi twins caught their MC *in the act*? Biting or scratching or cutting, although the former two are the most on my mind. And I mostly can't stop thinking about it because, yes, they'd obviously be concerned and wouldn't want me to do it, but what would they think when I told them that... that I'm not depressed? I may be driven by anxiety or anger sometimes, but most of the time it's just a random urge. And I... and I like it. This whole thing started from mere curiosity. Sometimes I feel like a bit of a freak... but at the same time I'm conflicted, because while one part of me is sure that I am a freak for liking it, the other part is like who cares? I'm not hurting anyone, only myself, and even then I'm always careful...

And on rarer occasions, I have urges of... something to the level of "self mutilation" (if I understand the term right) like... wanting to just line the topside of my forearm with as many cuts as possible. Vent fics help me assuage(?) those, though, and I'd never be able to actually do that. I have enough self control for that at least...

Sorry again, especially if i was too detailed. Its just been on my mind so much here and there...

[417]

TW: Self-Harm

I’ve mentioned to you before that self-harm comes in more forms than cutting. It’s also about self-denial, isolation, shame, guilt, and more. 

There are many kinds of self-harm and they are all equal on the same of causing harm to yourself and I understand that it’s hard to stop once you’ve stopped. It can become what they call second-hand knowledge, but you have to be aware that it’s hurting you no matter how you balance it and no matter how you try to angle or postulate the thought. I don’t think you’re a freak, nor are you strange for the morbid curiosity. Some people like pain but there’s a difference between someone liking pain and inducing pain to yourself as a punishment or even to ground yourself from anxiety. 

You’re too young to explore the first one that I mentioned, and the latter can be harmful to your emotional health and physical health. Again, I’m not ashamed of you or trying to scold you, I’m sincerely worried that you’ll hurt yourself more than you intended in an instance and you’ll have more than a scar to think about when that happens. I don’t want you to get hurt! 

Remember when I told you other ways that you could cope when the feelings spring up? If you have a habit of biting a lot, you can get a stim toy to use rather than biting yourself. If it’s about an oral fixation, that can be the case with people who bite nails or suck their thumbs, the stim choice can be safer for you! There’s nothing wrong with that. 

I need you should explore that avenue to help yourself from getting overwhelmed and worked up over these latter properties. You know that you’re doing it and you know that it’s not making you feel better and that it won’t help you in the long run. Know that is an uphill battle for many people, not just you, so you’re not alone. 

But, once you’re aware of what you’re doing, you have to try to find healthier ways to cope. Relapse happens, we’re only human, but you need to hold yourself accountable and work on this. Write, stim, etc. I know you can figure out what works. 

[crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons]

I still remember so many things about you.

That your little sister always gives all her change to homeless people on Grafton St on Christmas Eve.

That your favourite colour is green.

That your insane talent of voices and accents always used to make me shake with laughter.

I remember you staring into space after reading the newest part of Homestuck because you were emotionally devastated by it and had no other fan around you at the time to experience those emotions with.

I remember you calling the way I excitedly used to stim with my feet cute.

I remember that whenever your heart rate would speed up, fast and hard enough I could hear it without putting my head on your chest.

I remember the names of your Teddy Bears being Ducky and Lamb, and how the idea of them ever getting lost or destroyed deeply upset you, even as a college student you if you thought about them being lost or destroyed long enough you would burst into tears.

I also remember you telling me there's nothing we could do as I remembered I left my Teddy Bear in the hotel and began panicking and freaking out because I loved her and she was mine and she was all alone suddenly, and I remember thinking "you'll get it, you'll understand why we have to go back" but you didn't. You didn't care.

I remember you getting pissy with me in the next hostel because I pushed you away after your shitty attempt to cheer me up, as if though genuinely devastated if it was Ducky or Lamb in that hotel room, you would cried and cried and called up your fucking rich father, begging him to find your precious teddies, pull every string he could to get them back.

But that wouldn't even needed to happen if it had been your Teddy instead of mine, we would've immediately turned around to go get them, doesn't matter if we missed the train, doesn't matter if Merlin doesn't understand and is annoyed I woulda made him understand, that this was Ducky, that we needed to go back to him because that fucking piece of stuffed fabric meant more to you than words could even express

But when it's my Teddy....

I hate this, I wish I could just forget, forget all of it

Or at least only remember the good and not the bad or vice versa

But I don't

I remember

I remember you

I doubt you could say the same for me

[upside-down-theater-kid]

I Never Planned on Someone Like You

So I've been working on this Javey oneshot for a month now and here it is! Davey takes Jack home for his boyfriend to meet his parents, and he has some news that he's been procrastinating on telling him. Thanks so much to my friends who gave me feeback (and to @broadwayismybestfriend for the endless encouragement)!

Read it on ao3!

“Jack, I sold my last paper,” I say. He’d been waiting nearby for thirty minutes. He didn’t want me to stand out there alone in the cold.

“That’s good, Dave. You’ll be a pro like me in no time,” he says with a smile. I can’t bring myself to tell him that I’ll be going off to school next week, and that I don’t know if I’ll be able to see him. “Good night, Davey,” he says before he kisses me.

“Jack, wait,” I call out when he’s a few steps away.

“What?” He replies as he walks back towards me.

“Come home with me. Have dinner with my folks. They’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Davey,” he scoffs. “I don’t do folks.”

“My parents have been wanting to meet my new friend,” it takes me a second to realize the implication of what I said.

“Oh,” he pauses. “So we’re friends now?”

“No, no, no,” I flap my hands. I get nervous when I’m misunderstood. “I just… haven’t told them, yet.” My parents would be the last to know. All of our friends knew it when we walked into work one day while blushing and holding hands. Miss Medda caught us kissing backstage one time. Even my little brother noticed that something was different between Jack and I (and I had to make him promise not to tell Mom and Dad). He looks pensive. “But I’ll tell them. Tonight.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead.

“Ok, Daves. I’ll do it for you.”

--

I’m nervous, but holding his hand on the walk home made me feel better. It always does. Once we’re a block away, we stop. We don’t want anyone else to see. I can’t help myself from stimming.

Mom opens the door as soon as we get home to our tiny apartment on the fifth floor. “David! You’re home! Is this your friend Jack? We’ve heard so much about you! Steven and I have been wanting to meet David’s new best friend for a while.” I can’t tell whether my boyfriend is mad at my mother for calling us friends or trying to hide his laughter.

When we go inside, dinner is already on the table, since I’m a bit late coming home. Dinner at the Jacobs household used to be lively before Dad lost his job, but it became solemn after the accident. No one says anything for several minutes, although Les keeps winking at me and Jack when our parents aren’t looking. Jack seems on edge and my parents are oblivious. I open my mouth and try to start talking to avoid the awkward silence, but no words come out. I almost bounce my leg, but I stop myself. When I was younger, I would do that when I was nervous, but my parents would always tell me to stop, and I can’t have them reprimand me for it, not tonight. Everything has to be perfect for my boyfriend.

“So… uhhhhh… Jack,” Dad says in an attempt to break the silence. “What do your parents do?” Jack’s face turns to stone.

“Both of my parents are dead,” he says harshly. Les blushes and looks at his plate. My parents glance at each other, not knowing what to do in this situation. Jack just stares at his plate, and I can’t read his blank expression. No one speaks for several minutes. It’s just the ticking of the clock and the scraping of forks against plates. Nobody knows what to say, not after that. So many thoughts race through my head. I should have told my parents not to bring that up. It was such an awful question to ask, Jack must hate me now. He doesn’t speak about his parents often, and I’m sure he doesn’t want another reminder of them.

“So, Jack,” my mother begins. “Is it going to be hard for you next week with David off at school and no longer a newsie?” Did my mother actually ask him that? I regret not telling Jack sooner. He should have learned it from me, not my mother. He probably thinks that I’m a coward. I see shock across Jack’s face, but only for a second. Then, the sadness sets in.

“I didn’t know that Davey was going back to school next week,” he says with anger simmering below the surface.

“If you’ll excuse us for a second,” I say as I drag him out of the apartment and on to the fire escape.

--

“Jack, I am so sorry about that but I can explain,” I say after staring at the floor for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to say, as if there are any words that could fix this. Anything to fix the stone-cold expression on his face.

“Explain what? That you’re leaving us? Leaving the Newsies? And that you couldn’t even tell us yourself?”

“Jack! I was going to tell you…someday.”

“And when’s someday? Was I just going to wake up one day and not have you be in line for the papes? Would my boyfriend go to school and not even tell me? Would I even see you again? You didn’t even have the guts to tell me yourself, and your mother had to do it for you!”

“BECAUSE, BECAUSE…..I’M SCARED OF LOSING YOU!” He’s surprised that I said that and so am I.

“Dave, I didn’t know,” he says in a softer tone. “But, I’m also scared of losing you.” We sit in silence on the rusty steps of the fire escape. I see the New York skyline above us. The view of the city where we both grew up, where we first met. We’re so close together, but so far apart. I don’t think either one of us knows what to say. There’s the sound of crickets as evening turns into night and happy families eating dinner in the nearby apartments. Families who aren’t going to be separated because someone is going back to school and was too much of a coward to tell his boyfriend. I’d always thought that we’d be one of those happy couples someday. I move closer to Jack. I have a hard time with apologies, and it’s my way of saying “I’m sorry” to him. It’s just the sound of our breathing for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, he holds my hand. I think it’s his way of forgiving me.

“I’m so sorry for not telling you,” I whisper. “I’m just so scared to leave you and the other Newsies and I don’t know how I’ll be able to go back to school without you by my side.” Jack kisses me on the forehead. “I just can’t handle not being able to see you every day,” I continue. “And I can’t tell my parents. They won’t understand it. They couldn’t understand just how much I love you.” He kisses me again. “Everyone else thinks that I’m strange, but not you. Even on my first day as a Newsie, you helped me. Not many people would’ve helped the new kid.”

“Davey,” he says. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell your parents about us. And I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle not seeing you all day, every day, but it’s okay. We’ll get through this together. And you’re not strange. You’re the most perfect guy I’ve ever met.”

“Jack, that’s not true.”

“Yeah, it is Dave. And the second I saw you, I knew that you’d be an amazing newsie,” he kisses my cheek. “An amazing person,” he does it again. “And an amazing boyfriend,” he kisses me on the lips. “And if anyone at your school is a jerk…..and, well if I can take down Pulitzer, I can take down some teenage jackasses.”

“Jack, you don’t have to do that.”

“Let’s hope so.” We sit there for a few minutes, with neither of us knowing what to say. Just the two of us leaning on each other, because we know our time together will be limited after this week. Just the two of us and our breathing, with so many things left unsaid. I have so much love for him.

“Jack,” I say after the silence. “I love you. Even if I only see you once a week, or once a month, I’m never going to forget about you. Never. I’ve always loved you. Even on the first day we met, when you were just a cocky newsboy. You still lit up those dark streets, and you still never fail to impress me. I never expected this, I never expected any of this.” I kiss him, like I’ve done so many times before. “Jack Kelly, I never planned on someone like you.”