#hey guess who remembered they can stim while they work?

[pilferingapples]

LM 1.5.5 (retrobricking)

"Il se nommait Javert, et il était de la police."

FMA: His name was Javert,  and he was one of the police. 

Rose, Donougher: His name was Javert, and he was with the police. 

Hapgood: His name was Javert, and he belonged to the police.

They're all decent , but I think Hapgood's has some real poetry to it, esp. given how often Javert is compared to/flat out called a dog.   

Almost everyone has deeper thoughts and feelings on Javert than me, and I'm eager to read them, so I'll confine this to a couple points. 

- Javert is described--among many other descriptions here-- as "Brutus in Vidocq".  And that is an absolutely fascinating and baffling  comparison to me? Because while his Vidocq qualities are obvious to anyone who knows about Vidocq, his Brutus qualities are...I will say highly debatable! Yes, there's the obvious connection with Brutus killing his sons...but that Brutus killed his sons for trying to restore the monarchy.   There's the now-more-famous Brutus  who killed someone many considered his friend, out of honor and duty...but the friend he killed was Caesar, and at least as a matter of popular concept he did that  to  prevent Caesar being made emperor.  What I'm saying is that I cannot find any way that "Brutus" is not a profoundly, intensely anti-absolute-authority kind of comparison,a  deeply republican  symbol to invoke.   And Hugo is absolutely bringing that symbolism in here on purpose! He would have had fleets of historical figures to call on if he'd wanted someone austerely and selflessly dedicated to authority /monarchy/emperors!  But he picked Brutus, for M. "respect for authority and hatred of rebellion",  and I have no IDEA what to do with that. 

- going with that-- Hugo says Javert is made up of "two sentiments, very good in themselves" (or whatever a given translation does with that phrase)  "respect for authority and hatred of rebellion".  And the first two times I read it! I totally took Hugo at his word that these were being presented as Good Things! And every time I see this passage quoted it's unironic, as if those were totally meant to be Good Things...

but there's no way, is there??  There is no way  that Victor Hernani Hugo ever  thought rebellion didn't kinda rock or that authority should be beyond question. Even Baby Monarchist Hugo  was ready to fight his teachers and Spiritual Advisors, and to harbor attempted assassins . He was not good  at it but he was willing!  

So uh. Yeah.  "he rendered them almost bad, by dint of exaggerating them" is deep, deep sarcasm, huh.   They're bad by exaggeration bc they are bad in any degree, every single line of not just this book but everything else Hugo ever wrote  argues that , I was a naive fool the first couple times I read this and I am still only beginning to appreciate the absolute Marianas Trench depths of sarcasm on that line. 

- Okay one more thing: I am highly entertained that Victor "This symbol is symbolic" Hugo says that de Maistre would have seen a symbol in Javert, as if Hugo hadn't just spent the whole chapter making Javert a symbol. Amazing. 

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

[kindness-ricochets]

I’ve been seeing a lot of thoughts and hc of autistic wylan lately and you seem to also be a fan of the concept. May I ask why? Exactly? I could definitely kinda see it but wanna hear you thoughts you’re always so eloquent

Hey there anon! Sorry for the delay—I’m guessing you already found an answer to this elsewhere while I was off Tumblr for a bit, but just in case, here are my thoughts. This will be heavily personal, but… well, you can’t very well ask an autistic person about autism and expect neutrality!

Autism is different for everyone and can be difficult to pin down, so while Wylan is arguably autistic, he misses several beats that for me would have made him definitively and undeniably autistic. For example, when the bells start to ring, triggering black protocol—I work in a place with a lot of bells and am frequently caught too close to one and normally press my hands over my ears until it’s over because that sound is like shrapnel raking across my insides. All of them. Not just the ear and brain parts. Wylan doesn’t have that sort of visceral reaction, but that may just mean he doesn’t have the same sensitivities that I do, or to the same level. He also never, that I recall, eats meat—as weird as that might sound, eating meat is incredibly complicated with heightened sensitivities to taste and texture. I’m not sure how old I was when I realized it was strange to get up from the table to spit out my food because it viscerally repulsed me. So it might be that Wylan is autistic and has different experiences than I do. Those are things I would include in a story as major indicators of a character being autistic. This might also mean that his father’s way of raising him taught him to hide unusual reactions and stimming behaviors. It’s not that much of a reach to assume a man who tried to abuse the dyslexia out of his son would take the same approach to autism. (More on autism and abuse later.)

So while I’m going to lay out why I read Wylan as autistic, that’s why I think it’s valid to read him as not being autistic as well. Both are valid.

A final caveat, I am well overdue for a reread of the books, so I likely left something out or could have found better examples. Take this as a few of my reasons for a personal headcanon. Anyone who feels differently, that's fine! We can each read things our own way :)

1 - Hyperfixation: The way Wylan loves music

Most of the Crows’ backgrounds color how they see the world: Kaz’s shrewdness, Matthias’s tactical thinking and superstition, Inej’s faith and Suli wisdom, etc. That’s a sign of good character writing. But very little of Wylan’s upbringing seems to have influenced how he sees the world. It comes closest when he thinks about how his father would scorn his new friends, but we never see that scorn from Wylan.

The way a hyperfixation feels, it’s like you’ve always lived in a close parallel world, never fully been a part of the other one where it seems like everyone else lives, but suddenly there’s this bright shining piece of your soul laced through the other world. It lets you connect, it lets you exist in their realm, and you can’t help but filter everything new through that lens because it’s the brightest, most wonderful thing. (I had been between hyperfixations for a while when I started a new job; six months into that work, I read Crooked Kingdom. One of my coworkers thought I had fallen in love, it was that marked a difference.)

So, combining these: Wylan never really acts like he was part of his father’s world, and indeed is in some ways separate from the other Crows, but he parses everything through music, his hyperfixation. He sets words to music to remember them, like he does with the contract. Even his own anxiety is made sense of through music, when in his first narrated chapter, he sets it to music: what am I doing here what am I doing here…. When he’s overwhelmed, his thoughts are “a jangle of misplayed chords”. The Crows have backgrounds that influence how they react to the world, but Wylan’s hyperfixation is his means of experiencing and understanding the world.

2 - Literal thinking: Wylan responds to exact words

In this post, I went into detail on the line where Wylan suggested waking up men to kill them. Wylan is generally unsupportive of killing people—Oomen, Smeet’s clerk, his father… he advocates not-murder in each of these situations. Accepting his aversion to murder, his suggestion to wake men up and kill them seems like a genuine reaction to Jesper saying he doesn’t want to kill unconscious men. Wylan takes things literally.

This happens the most with Jesper, probably because Jesper talks to Wylan the most. Nina and Matthias don’t really register him past how he might be useful, Inej is usually quite direct, and Kaz is very deliberate when he speaks with Wylan. This really interests me because Kaz tends to vary his speech more than the others do, he adapts more to being around other people. He jokes a little with Jesper, spars with Nina, speaks more openly and more sharply with Inej, and he’s precise with Wylan. Kaz may not know what autism is, but he recognizes what’s effective with Wylan.

Another example is when Wylan is sketching the Ice Court plans and Jesper says it looks like a cake. There are plenty of valid responses here: pointing out that concentric circles look like lots of things, that it’s just a sketch, telling Jesper to stop looking over his shoulder. Instead, Wylan says that the Ice Court is sort of like a cake. That… doesn’t sound like something Wylan would normally say. He’s not addressing the whole situation, he’s addressing the specific words Jesper said.

One of the most heartbreaking examples of this (to me, anyway) is with Marya. Wylan does the same thing with his mother, when she asks if he’s there for her money and says she hasn’t got any, and his response is, “I don’t either.” We understand as readers that what Marya is communicating here is that she is so accustomed to being utterly ignored unless she is being used, and if she told Wylan that no one visited but to take advantage and she assumed he was here for the same reason, he would say it wasn’t the case. But he just responds to the immediate statement.

There are a lot of examples of this.

3 — 0% perception, 100% creativity

Wylan can identify things that don’t make sense or that he doesn’t understand, but at the beginning of the series he can’t make leaps, only ask questions. On the Ferolind, he wonders about the source of water at the Ice Court; though Kaz doesn’t say as much, he was clearly wondering, too, because he eventually figured out the underground river. There’s an interesting parallel here where, in the beginning of Crooked Kingdom, Wylan asks a question about how they’ll break into Smeet’s and Kaz tells him to use his eyes instead of running his mouth—at which point Wylan is able to figure it out. I don’t think this is because he never tried before, though, but because no one ever bothered to teach him. Kaz can be harsh but he gives harsh corrections rather than harsh rejections and Wylan learns from him.

It’s hard to understand the world for people with autism. The world is designed and run by and for people whose minds are fundamentally different from ours, whose thoughts and experiences are unlike ours. Imagine trying to learn English or Spanish or Mandarin or any other spoken language if your first language was olfactory. That’s sort of what it’s like for someone with autism to just get dropped into the world and expected to figure this out.

This can be attributed to Wylan’s upbringing, but I disagree with that because none of the others were brought up in the Barrel, either, and Wylan doesn’t understand trade or politics with any special skill. Kaz wasn’t born in the Barrel, but he managed to go from “stealing is wrong” to “wrong isn’t my concern” real quick; Colm Fahey didn’t raise his son on gambling and firefights; the Ghafas never expected their daughter to be away from the family. Only Nina has relevant training—and even that’s precious little, she left school way too early. The others figured it out; Wylan needed a bit more help. He also seems surprised by the way his father conducts business. Wylan takes things on face value—like the time he’s surprised someone would do something, simply because it’s unlawful. This is something he expresses to a group of gangsters. He’s never been taught the way of any world and these things are not intuitive to him.

But Wylan isn’t stupid.

He doesn’t know how to understand the world, but he does understand how things go together. Given a pointy diamond, a handle, and a screw, he cut through Grisha glass. He carries flashbangs and magic napalm, he recreates military hardware—Wylan understands how to make things interact for a specific result. But to me the most telling thing isn’t just that he puts together chemical pieces, it’s that he figured out Jesper controlled bullets. He saw the pieces and put them together.

Wylan can understand when things don’t make sense, but he can’t make sense of them—yet when he understands things at their basic level, he understands them without preconception, for what they are. This is a very autistic way of thinking about things, it goes back to the literalism. He can’t make the leaps of logic other people can, but he also doesn’t make the assumptions they do—“I’ve never heard of a bullet Grisha, so that’s not a thing” vs “Well Jesper’s an almost impossibly good shot and he controls metal and bullets are metal, so why not?”

4 - Broken brain/body connection

Wylan’s great at chemistry and drawing and playing flute or piano—but he’s something of a disaster other times. This is in particular contrast to the other characters, all of whom are physically adept. Meanwhile it’s a challenge for Wylan to climb a rope ladder and he spends a full paragraph trying to figure out what to do with his hands. It’s easy to say, well, he’s used to a sedentary lifestyle, but at this point he’s not. He’s worked in the tannery for months. He’s just physically awkward.

I have less to say on this point only because it’s about something I don’t fully understand myself. I don’t really understand what it would be like to have a body that just… does things? Like normal stuff? Without tics and stims. No idea. Only that Wylan’s discomfort in and seeming lack of mastery of his own body feels very relatable to me.

5 - Abuse

One of the most familiar things about Wylan is how he has been so thoroughly abused and broken down that he’s afraid to do or say much of anything. Again, this is a place his background can be an obscuring factor. Of course Wylan didn’t think to blow up the walls when the first met the parem-juiced jurda and got trapped, he’s a spoiled rich kid! Except, he also startled when Jesper said his name later. Wylan didn’t hesitate because he was spoiled, he hesitated because he had no confidence.

He also thinks Kaz would laugh at him for playing music at his mother’s grave. Now, personally, I can’t see Kaz laughing at Wylan—being indifferent, thinking it’s pointless sentimentality, shaking his head, maybe commenting sharply that they need to go if they don’t have the time. But not laughing. Kaz is a snarky, sharp-edged jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t go out of his way to criticize, he just lets people know when they inconvenience him.

Wylan has been trained to identify attention as negative by an overbearing abusive father who literally saw him as less favorable than a demon. Now, that may have been hyperbole, but Jan criticized everything he could about Wylan—art, music, emotion—and made clear that he was worthless and competent to nothing. (Jan Van Eck can suck a rotten donkey dick but that’s neither here nor there.)

A lot of people with autism experience levels of bullying that have similar impacts. Or as the kids these days are calling it: we go to school. We go to school where we are weird. Where we look weird and move weird and talk about weird things and there’s a whole little bevy of asswipes to makes sure we know it. I got teased more for playing Pokemon and sitting alone reading than the kid who pissed himself onstage at assembly. (This was before Pokemon was cool. I’m old.) And that is not unusual for autistic kids. It’s also not unusual for this to be compounded by relatives or even parents who may be trying to help but don’t understand and can make things even harder.

So we can’t read social cues and we’re taught at a vicious age that everything that comes naturally to us is wrong. Imagine trying to interact in society with that background. There is no guide and most advice from neurotypical people isn’t actually what they mean. It breaks you down.

Wylan’s anxiety isn’t definitive of autism, but isn’t something that was incredibly familiar as someone whose neurodivergent experiences created a strong level of anxiety.

6 — High Compassion, Low Social Competence

Wylan isn’t very good at making friends. In fact, none of the Crows likes him much in the beginning, and only some of them soften toward him by the end. (Matthias and Nina come to respect his skills as a chemist but neither seems to particularly like him.) But you can see throughout the books that Wylan wants to connect with them and be one of them, he just… isn’t. He’s off-beat. He’s weird. He asks questions and mimics behaviors (trying to be cool and tough like Jesper, saying “mission” like Matthias does, imitating Kaz’s scheming face) but he doesn’t quite get how to adapt.

But he still cares about people. Not just them. Everyone. He cares about the people they leave in the ditch outside the prison wagon, he cares about Hanna Smeet, he cares about Alys. He cares about the people who’ll take a hit from Kaz’s sugar caper.

Wylan’s awkward social skills have undeniable big autism energy. I posit his compassion does as well. This is simply who Wylan is, and that means being someone who cares about everyone. I have nothing to back up that this is related to autism. I can say that it’s like me. (Not to brag.) I can’t turn off the part of my brain that says everyone matters. Individuals can opt out of that compassion, but they have it by default. There’s a certain agony in feeling a pull toward and love for just about everyone and yet an inability to develop meaningful connections with them, and that keen loneliness… it just burns.

Again, it’s not definitive of autism, but it’s very similar to an autistic experience.

I said in the beginning that I didn’t think Wylan certainly had autism and I stand by that, but he is a powerfully honest reflection of many people who do. So he can be understood to have autism, and that’s part of the reason some people have that headcanon.

[waitineedaname]

It was Tommy Coolatta’s birthday, and Gordon Freeman was shaking in a Chuck E. Cheese bathroom.

He hadn’t planned to end up there. He hadn’t planned to be in many of the places he’d been in the past… god. Week? Weeks? Month? The realization that he couldn’t remember how long he’d spent trying to escape Black Mesa made him grip the cheap tile of the bathroom countertops and shake even harder.

He’d tried to make it through the party as long as he could, he really had. He’d danced with Bubby and Coomer and tried his hand at the arcade machines and eaten what pizza he could stomach. But it was just… so much. He wasn’t sure how the others could party like that after everything they’d gone through. Everyone coped differently, he supposed.

He should probably go back out there soon, for Tommy’s sake. It was his birthday, after all, and after everything Tommy had done for him, he owed it to him to at least celebrate with him. He just… needed a minute. Maybe none of them had even realized he’d left yet.

“Mr. Freeman?”

Damn.

“Hey, Tommy.” Gordon offered Tommy a weak smile, though he could see in the mirror that it was more of a grimace. “Sorry, man, I’ll be back out there in a second. It was just… a lot.”

Tommy nodded, a sympathetic look on his face. “Do… Is it okay if I join you?”

“What? You don’t have to keep me company dude, it’s your birthday. Don’t stop having fun on my account.” Gordon tried to wave him towards the door, but Tommy was shaking his head before he’d even finished his sentence.

“No, I… It’s a lot for me too. The-” Tommy gestured vaguely as if searching for a word and failing to find it, “All of it.”

“Oh.” Gordon blinked. “Then, yeah, pull up a chair, I guess.”

Tommy gave him a small smile and shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned his back against it and let out a sigh that Gordon echoed.

They stood there in silence for a while, Gordon doing his best to get his shaking under control. With anyone else, he might have felt awkward, but this was Tommy. Tommy had been the one to practically carry him through countless tunnels and vats of questionable liquid when he was delirious from blood loss. If there was anyone he trusted to not judge him for having a breakdown in the bathroom, it was Tommy.

The metal of the HEV suit clinked against the linoleum of the sink, and suddenly it struck him how much he wanted this thing off.

“Hey, uh,” Gordon spoke up, clearing his throat. Tommy hummed in acknowledgement, “You’ve read a bunch of manuals, right? Did you read the HEV suit manual?”

“Uh, yeah!”

“Think you could get this thing off me?”

Tommy’s eyes widened like he’d only just realized how long Gordon had been wearing the suit. “Oh! Yeah, I can- I think I can do that.”

Tommy approached him slowly, as if approaching a skittish cat, then became more confident in his movements when Gordon gave no sign of flinching away. He began working on the back of Gordon’s chestplate first, slender fingers working deftly on the bolts and buckles that held it together. It was slow work, but with each piece Tommy lifted off him, Gordon felt he could breathe easier. A literal weight was lifted off him, and it only made him more aware of the ache deep in his bones. Every few minutes, there would be a loud noise from the main entertainment area of the Chuck E. Cheese; Gordon would flinch away from the sound, and Tommy would freeze in his movements, but then they would hear Coomer’s loud laughter or a snide, muffled comment from Bubby, and they would relax and resume their work.

After what felt like eons, Tommy finished unclasping the last buckle on Gordon’s boots, stepping back to let him toe them off himself. The HEV suit was a pile of orange rubble surrounding them, and Gordon suddenly felt exposed in nothing but his socks and the dark jumpsuit he’d been wearing under the suit. He felt like he could stand up straight without straining for the first time in weeks, and the feeling of the overpowered Chuck E. Cheese air conditioning seeping through the sleeves of his jumpsuit left him feeling flayed raw. 

Tommy was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face, hands flexing and unflexing in a nervous stim. He reached out a hand, hesitated, then laid it on Gordon’s left forearm. Gordon’s skin burned under his touch. When was the last time he’d felt someone else’s body heat?

“Can…” Tommy’s voice was quiet and sounded as fragile as Gordon felt, “Can I hug you?”

Gordon didn’t trust himself to speak around the lump the size of a tennis ball in his throat, so he just nodded. Tommy outstretched long arms, and the two of them fell into each other. 

Gordon’s whole body felt like it was buzzing right down to his core. He was lightheaded as everything hit him in that moment. All he had gone through. All he had survived. The fact that he was out, and he was alive. The fact that this was the first time he’d touched someone and felt it on his skin since he’d dropped Joshua off at his mom’s the week of the test. And it was Tommy who got to hold the title of the first person to hug him in far too long. Tommy who had been kind to him even when stress was making them all snappish, and who had made jokes with him when things felt grim. Tommy who had been the only one he trusted when everyone else left him for dead, Tommy who fought by his side so loyally and who removed that horrible suit with such impossible tenderness. 

Gordon pressed his face into the shoulder of Tommy’s filthy polo shirt that smelled like sweat and blood but was warm and had probably been soft at some point, and he let out the loudest sob in his life. His voice shattered on the noise, and then he suddenly couldn’t hold it back anymore, sob after sob wrenching its way out of his throat. 

He wasn’t sure he’d ever cried like this. Not when he was in labor with Joshua, not at any point during the Resonance Cascade, not even when his arm was being cut off. Nothing compared to these deep sobs that seemed to claw their way out of somewhere deep in his soul to burst out of his chest as everything crashed into him all at once.

He could feel Tommy’s fist balled in the back of his jumpsuit, and he could feel and hear Tommy weeping quietly into where he’d pressed his face into Gordon’s hair, and the raw sensations of it all only made him sob harder.

They stood there, clinging to each other until Gordon’s knees couldn’t hold him up any longer, and then they both sank to the ground, still holding onto each other like they were each other’s life lines. Maybe they were.

Eventually, Gordon simply couldn’t cry anymore, his tear ducts emptied, leaving him with a dehydration headache and a sore throat. He didn’t extricate himself from Tommy’s hold, though, and Tommy didn’t seem like he was going to let go any time soon either. He’d cried himself empty sooner than Gordon had, and now he was just stroking his fingers through Gordon’s knotted curls. Gordon didn’t want to think about how nasty his hair must be right now, caked in blood and sweat and god knows what else, but Tommy’s hand in his hair felt more soothing than aloe on a sunburn. 

He snorted quietly when the simile occurred to him. He’d maybe been spending too much time with Tommy. He then immediately shoved that thought away and squeezed Tommy tighter. No, he had not spent nearly enough time with Tommy. Now that they were out, he could let himself think about spending time with Tommy when they weren’t in mortal danger. He couldn’t wait to watch Tommy’s favorite shows and listen to him infodump about them, or walk Sunkist in the sunshine, or take Tommy to his favorite restaurants, or introduce him to Joshua-

Fuck. God, he really liked this guy, huh.

Tommy pulled back ever so slightly, though he didn’t go far. Just enough to be able to look down at Gordon with those kind, intelligent eyes, and Gordon thought he might pass out. He moved his hand from Gordon’s messy ponytail to cup his cheek, and Gordon was certain he was going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. Gordon laughed despite himself.

“No,” Gordon said, tilting his head to better fit against Tommy’s hand and giving Tommy the tiniest smile, “I don’t think I am.”

Tommy gave him his own sad smile. “That’s okay. I… I don’t think any of us are.”

Gordon snorted. “That’s for damn sure.” 

Tommy was still staring down at him with more tenderness than Gordon was prepared to deal with, “Do…” He paused, licking his lips. Gordon wasn’t embarrassed to say he stared at the motion, “I think I’m done with the party. Do you want to go home?”

“Yeah,” Gordon sighed with more exhaustion than a man his age should feel, “I would love that, bud.”

It took some maneuvering to get them both off the floor without tripping over the chunks of HEV suit on the floor, but neither of them seemed willing to let go of each other more than necessary. Eventually, they made it out of the bathroom, Tommy’s hand warm and solid in Gordon’s own. Dr. Coomer looked up from where he’d been punching apart an arcade machine when they entered the room.

“Ah, hello, Gordon!” He said cheerfully. “You appear to have been peeled!”

“Uh, yeah, Dr. Coomer.” Gordon huffed out a laugh, relieved that that was what Dr. Coomer was pointing out opposed to the fact that his face was definitely puffy and tearstained. “Tommy helped me get the suit off.”

“You look very sporting in your jumpsuit, Gordon!” Dr. Coomer said, returning to his destruction of Chuck E. Cheese property. Tommy smiled down at Gordon, and he was suddenly struck by the realization that the HEV suit had given him a couple inches of height because wow, Tommy was tall. Tommy squeezed his hand and looked up to flag down Gman.

“Hello, son. Dr… Freeman.” Gman greeted them both. Gordon nodded at him. The dude still gave him the creeps, but he could appreciate the parental fondness he’d seen him demonstrate for Tommy over the course of the afternoon.

“Hey, dad.” Tommy gave him a slight wave with his free hand, the other still holding Gordon’s. “I- um, this was a really nice party!”

“I’m… glad to, hear it. I, pulled out all the stops.” 

“I can- I can see that! But, uh. I’m pretty tired. I-... Can you open a portal to Mr. Freeman’s apartment?”

If Gman thought there was anything strange about Tommy asking to go to Gordon’s home and not his own, he didn’t say anything of it. “Of… course. I, will begin to… wrap things up here before, our, friends can cause too much… property damage.”

He gestured to the nearest wall with very little flourish to show them the glowing green portal that hadn’t been there a minute earlier. Tommy gently tugged Gordon in its direction. Behind them, he heard Coomer call out “goodbye, Gordon!” and then in a flash, they were standing in his living room. 

Were this any other situation, Gordon would’ve been embarrassed to show someone the messy state of his apartment without tidying beforehand, but he simply didn’t have it in him to care when his bed was within reach for the first time in weeks. It was his turn to tug Tommy up the narrow stairs and down the hall to his bedroom. They both collapsed on his bed, neither bothering to change out of their bloodstained clothes, which Gordon was sure they’d regret in the morning, but considering he could barely summon the energy to pull the sheets over their shoulders, he decided that was a problem for future Gordon. 

Tommy pulled him into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world, like this wasn’t the first time he’d ever been in Gordon’s apartment, like they hadn’t met less than an hour before the worst disaster of their lives. Gordon felt the soft flannel of his sheets brush against his skin, and he felt the softness of his pillow under his head, and he felt Tommy’s warm body all around him, and he fell asleep solidly for the first time in weeks.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Oh my gosh so I also headcannon Jack as autistic! But im not comfortable with writing it yet because idk how. Im not autistic; my little sister is and i know a few things jack could have trouble with... but hes a grown ass man so i just dont know. Im definitely taking notes on what you write him as but could you give me some pointers?....maybe?

Im mostly referencing to Bitter with this

aaaa yeah it definitely presents differently in adults who've learned to mask, personally I don't plan to put certain things in specifically to talk about how he's autistic, I write with the background knowledge of what traits he displays, and then express them when relevant, it's relevant a lot with Jack simply due to how much it affects his life

now this is going to get long, so bare with me, because this is a whole lot more complicated than you might expect

there's really no one correct way to write Jack, since there's no one way that autism presents itself, the way I write him is based on a mix of myself and some people in my family, so I can give you a basic idea of what angle I personally come from

for one, I change the way I write about facial expressions and how emotions come across to Jack, in Jazz's chapters I'll write about the exact emotion she can see on their face, with Jack's I'll go with an obvious base emotion, but then if the person is expressing something more complicated, I'll describe their face in physical details

eg;

Jazz POV - Danny was upset, but his face was tight with frustration

Jack POV - Danny looked sad, but his eyebrows were furrowed and his mouth was set in a hard line

it's a subtle difference but it's one I try to maintain throughout Bitter, Jack's POV is based on how I have trouble reading non-obvious expressions, although in my case I also have trouble looking people in the face when I talk to them, that's harder to write in an emotion driven POV story, so I made Jack better at that than I am

his interest in machines is quite obvious, since he's an inventor, and he looooves infodumping on people, he gets very excited about his passions very quickly and his mouth runs off with him, something I also have trouble with, it hasn't been a prominent trait for Jack in Bitter, because he's so out of his element he's mostly confused and in a way, almost grieving his own death, so he's been far quieter than he usually is

his special interest is obviously ghosts and machinery, and in Bitter I cover that he's got a degree in engineering, physics and mathematics. He's good at them, I like to look at it as though Jack rolled high in intelligence and low in wisdom, he's book smart, he knows things that are straightforward and have firm rules, he's less comfortable in topics that are more wishy washy and vague, biology is complicated and has too many variables, he finds it difficult to grasp, there's no one standard rule that applies to every body

I also struggle with vague and unclear directions, I need a solid structure and clear instructions, my strength is in sorting, organising, alphabetising and colour coding, I like things to Look Right, I stick to a particular routine with very specific things, and it's viscerally uncomfortable and even distressing for me to have that order disturbed, I nearly had a meltdown at work because someone had done a part of my job incorrectly, and I had to fix it, it made me genuinely upset on a personal level, it was MY system, NOBODY should be touching it, NOBODY should be moving things around, they do anyway, and I spend a portion of my shifts just frustrated and on edge because of it

Jack also has issues socially, he often says or does things that other people find uncomfortable or embarrassing, I reference that in Bitter, where Jack assumes everyone is mad at him because he said or did something stupid, this I have much experience in, while in the middle of a social situation it's easy to just do what comes naturally to you and not realise it's off putting to other people, because people often play polite and you can't tell that they're uncomfortable, even though people around you find it painfully obvious

sometimes it's easy to see in hindsight after you've been told you made something awkward or uncomfortable, but in the moment if nobody says anything about it, you can remain either totally oblivious, or become anxious and second guess every interaction you have

Jack is the oblivious type, he's fortunate to live in a family that is fairly understanding, they might get frustrated with him, or embarrassed by him, but they don't really take it personally, they KNOW he means well, they know he cares, and Jack does care, he cares a lot, he feels things a lot, he's incredibly empathetic

this is a trait that a lot of media likes to ignore in depictions of autism, because I guess it makes people with autism seem 'too normal', when tv shows always want to be like 'hey wow look at this clever asshole! isn't he clever, but also an asshole! but you can't hate him because he's ✨autistic✨ and he can't help it'

that bothers me a lot, I mean some people with autism do have trouble relating and empathising with people, my brother is one of them, but some people with autism really empathise a lot, some of us feel things very strongly, I'm highly empathetic and it's a real struggle to cope with

so yeah, it is a very complicated thing, so you need to go in with an idea of what their character struggles with, how it affects them, and when it's relevant in the story, also autism falls on a very wide spectrum, some people, like myself, are able to mask well, but that creates a big issue with identity, when you start to wonder how much of you is real and how much of you is mask, then you have to decide if you want to lower that mask and accept the social consequences of expressing yourself naturally

I have a friend who presents a little more obviously, he's very rigid in his ways and he talks like he's reading from a script, I have another friend who can socialise just fine, but will go into a total meltdown when a plan gets derailed and she doesn't know what to do next

another friend I have is highly social and incredibly boisterous, she stims with her whole body, dances around a lot, she's chaotic and that can be off-putting to people, she's had to spend a lot of her life holding that back, she's only recently started learning how to be herself shamelessly

my brother was incredibly social when he was younger, and people always really loved him, but most of that is mask, he's socially anxious and just wants to be alone most of the time, and he's a total prick to his immediate family, I don't take that personally any more, since now I understand that he's so blunt and brutally honest because he isn't masking with us, but also he still needs to be called out when he oversteps, autism might be why he has difficulty empathising, but it's not an excuse to be a complete asshole, even people with autism need to be called out on shitty behaviour, it isn't a get out of jail free card, our self expression shouldn't come at the cost of hurting other people, most of us are more than capable of learning to not be an asshole

I know this is like, A LOT, but these are the things that need to be considered when writing about autism, it is an all encompassing thing that permeates your entire life experience, I absolutely welcome people like you to try to write about it! Because I think it shouldn't be a taboo subject, and I appreciate that you asked for advice and that you want to do it respectfully, you've probably seen first hand how difficult living with autism can be, having a family member on the spectrum, so you already have some experience to draw from, I don't know your relationship with your sister or how old she is, or where on the spectrum she falls, but if possible you can ask her about her experiences in particular situations that you're having trouble writing, if that's something you and she are comfortable with

I hope this helps, just remember to keep an open mind and listen to any feedback you might get, it is very VERY easy to misrepresent autism so don't be too hard on yourself if you don't quite get it right, if someone gives you a critique, take it in stride and use it to become better ~ you can even express that in an authors note, that you want to write it accurately and invite anyone with experience to share their opinion, because like I said, it is different for everyone and my experiences are not universal, and you're welcome to run something by me every once in a while if you aren't sure about it ❤️

[rolandtowen]

three times Zuko comes into the Jasmine Dragon coffee shop, and one time Sokka leaves with him. Set in the Neurodiverse Zukka AU, but can read as a standalone.

*banging pots and pans together* "Come over here and get yall Neurodiverse Zukka!"

Read it on Ao3 or under the cut!

TW: discussions of skin picking and implied child abuse

i.

When Sokka pulls into the parking lot of the Jasmine Dragon, he is unsurprisingly the first car there. Being a freshman in town means getting the worst pick of shifts at local businesses. Sokka was hired on to work the opening shift, which means he wakes up at the ungodly hour of 5am to open the shop before the first round of sleep-deprived college students comes in. The pay isn't bad, Mr. Iroh is an incredibly fair man,

The bell on the door jingles on his way in, and he flips several light switches on, watching as the coffee shop slowly comes to life. He busies himself with getting the beans for the day grinding, pulling his first shot and dialing in the expresso. When he takes a sip, the espresso is spot on for the day, which is a relief. Having to make adjustments as customers start filing in is a nightmare.

Today's brew is floral and citrusy, so he decides to make himself and iced lavender latte - with oat milk, of course, because he's gotta do it for the gays - and he spends the next 20 minutes setting out pastries and fiddling with the display cases, making everything look perfect.

At 6am sharp, Sokka unlocks the front door and flips their sign to open, before retreating behind the bar to nurse his latte. Not even five minutes later, the door bell jingles, and Sokka sees a flash of dark hair, face obscured by a pile of textbooks and binders. The figure runs into one table, and then another, and Sokka is rushing out from behind the counter. He gets there just before textbooks go toppling everywhere, his hands taking a firm hold of the top bundle. As he pulls the books into his arms, he sees the face behind them.

Breathtaking golden eyes.

And.. a massive burn scar.

"Hi!" Sokka says, "I'm the barista on shift today - my name's Sokka." He would reach his hand for the other man to shake, but for the stack of textbooks in them.

Golden Eyes smiles.

"I'm Zuko, Zuko Sozin," he says, setting his remaining textbooks on the table by his side. Sokka follows suit.

"Hey, I think I've seen you before - are you taking Piandao's Intro to Biology class?"

"Uh, yeah - yeah! You sit a few rows in front of me." Zuko laughs. "Your doodles are uh, something alright."

Sokka knocks him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I gotta keep my hands busy for my brain to focus." He looks down at the stack of books on the table. "What on earth are you studying, to have that many books?"

"Uh, Biology and Chemistry double-major, Pre-Med track." Sokka's eyes widen. "It's really not that much! I got a bunch of stuff out of the way with AP credits."

Sokka raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it is a lot - but I'm really passionate about it. I want to be a doctor."

"Well, Dr. Sozin, what can I get started for you today?"

"Can I get a iced matcha, with a lot of honey?"

Sokka raises his other eyebrow. "A doctor with a sweet tooth?"

"Kind of?"

"Don't worry, I won't rat you out to your dentist. An iced matcha with extra honey?" Zuko nods and Sokka smiles. "You got it, doc."

ii.

Sokka falls into a routine at the Jasmine Dragon. He opens the shop every morning, and every morning of the fall semester so far, Zuko Sozin comes in at precisely 6:05am. Zuko will order an iced matcha with honey, and sits at a table by the window with his laptop and at least two textbooks open at all times. Then, at 11:50am - Sokka guess he has a class that starts at noon - Zuko leaves the shop, always making sure to throw his spare change into Sokka's tip jar.

He's so beautiful.

On a slow day, Sokka comes out from behind the safety of the counter and works up the courage to ask Zuko if he can study with him. Zuko looks shocked at first, but his lips quirk up in a smile as he gestures for Sokka to sit in the chair across from him, moving his textbooks to make room for Sokka's one book and laptop.

"What are you studying, Sokka?" Zuko appears to be genuinely interested.

"Oh, uh, social work, with a concentration in mental health." Sokka waits for Zuko to laugh at him. It never comes. He looks up at him over their laptops.

"That's really cool."

"You think so?"

"Yeah! I mean, some pre-med majors can be really pretentious, really dismissive of mental illness, but um - not me. I don't really have that luxury." Zuko laughs, as though at a joke with himself. "What's the Intro to Biology for, then?"

"Not all of us got our common core out of the way with AP credits, like some nerd I know." Zuko smiles at that, and looks back down at his laptop screen.

Sokka pulls his keys from his pocket and starts fidgeting with the stim toy he keeps on his keychain as he reads through his latest assignment for his Mental Illness and Society class. He bought it on Etsy, relieved to find a neurodivergent-owned shop after scrolling through a lot of stores that just seemed to be hopping on the 'trend' of selling fidget toys. He flips to the next page in his textbook, popping the buttons back and forth in a steady rhythm. He remembers Zuko's sitting across from him and stops abruptly.

"Is this annoying? Do you want me to stop?"

Zuko just cocks his head. "Why would I get a say in what you do? It's kind of your shop, right?"

"Um, to be polite?" Sokka laughs. "And you would be surprised how many customers I get who think they get to tell me what to do." His eyes settle on the half drunk latte in front of him. "It's not really my shop either, I just work the early morning shifts so Mr. Iroh can sleep in. If you ever get to stay past noon sometime, you'll see him come in. You can't miss him, short guy, talks in riddles. He's older, a war vet I think - I just get that impression from some of the stories he tells me. But anyway, did you want me to stop fidgeting?" Sokka looks back up to meet those golden eyes.

Zuko glitches for a second. "Oh! No, no, go for it - if it helps you to study, I'm all for it."

Sokka smiles, and looking at the way Zuko keeps picking at his cuticles gives him an idea. He digs into his backpack and pulls out another stim toy, an acupressure ring. ""Do you want to try this instead of maiming your hands?"

Zuko hesitantly holds out a hand and Sokka drops it into his palm. "You don't have to."

Sokka scoffs. "I know I don't have to - I want to. Come on, I wear it on my thumb sometimes -" and suddenly he's taking Zuko's hands into his and getting very close to Zuko's face. Zuko can smell espresso on his clothes and Sokka's hands are so warm against his. Calloused, sure, but warm. He holds Zuko's right hand gently, pressing the spiky ring onto his thumb. "And you can rub it back and forth with your pointer finger and it gives you that kind of prickly sensation that you get from skin picking, just without the skin picking." Sokka pulls his hands away and Zuko immediately misses them. "Give it a shot, tell me what you think."

Zuko tentatively rolls the ring over his thumb. Huh. The cute barista's right, the acupressure gives him that same prickly, scratchy feeling that picking at his nails and cuticles does. "Wow," he says, "I think you've converted me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then keep it, I've got a thousand more where that came from, ADHD perks."

Zuko instinctively opens his mouth to protest but the words die in his throat.

"You, you have ADHD?" He stops rolling the ring across his thumb.

"Yup." Sokka's lips popped on the 'p', and he turned to the next page in his textbook. "And I'm pretty sure you've got some spicy stuff happening your brain, too. But you don't have to tell me."

"How are you so open about it?"

Sokka's hand stills around the fidget. "My parents never treated me like I was deficient in any way - my brain just works differently, which means I have trouble with some 'normal' stuff. But I also strengths in areas that others don't have naturally. Accommodations aren't anything to be ashamed of."

"Sounds nice." All of the levity drops out of Zuko's voice.

Sokka levels a look at Zuko. He lets his eyes flit to the right side of Zuko's face and the scar there. He's seen it so many times, and the burns look so concentrated, almost... intentional. His stomach churns at the thought. The scar's old... and Zuko's at college now, he has to be safe - he has to be.

"Like I said, you don't have to tell me." Sokka's hand starts to fidget with the buttons again. "But I have it on good authority that I am a good listener."

"I'll... I'll keep that in mind." Zuko looks down at his hands, fingers rolling the ring back and forth against his thumb. "Thank you."

"Anytime, doc."

iii.

Somehow, fumbling through their collective social awkwardness, they manage to swap numbers.

At the end of the fall semester, Sokka texts Zuko for the first time.

S: hey, im gonna be a few minutes later. don't worry, im still coming.

Z: okay. thank you.

When Sokka finally pulls into the parking lot fifteen minutes late, he sees Zuko waiting outside the door, sitting on a bench, head buried in one of his chemistry textbooks.

"Hey," he puts his keys in the door. "You can just come in while I open, it won't take too long."

Zuko follows him inside, and he closes the door against the chill.

"You didn't have to text me," Zuko says, like it's a question.

"I wanted to," Sokka starts flipping on light switches. "I know you've got your routine, and I didn't want to stress you out when it got messed up."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Um, I don't want you to be stressed? I kind of care about you."

"You... you care about me?" Zuko stands in the middle of the coffee shop, unmoving.

Sokka smiles. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Why?"

"I think we could be friends?"

"Oh." Zuko's face falls for a second - what Sokka has come to understand is his 'processing' face - and he looks back up a second later. "I think we could be friends too."

"Friendship with a barista has great perks, you know." Sokka laughs as he starts up the grinder. "Although the perks of a social worker friend aren't too bad either."

"How's that going? With your first semester ending?" Zuko sits on a stool at the bar and watches Sokka putter around behind it.

"Well, I'm going to pass Intro to Biology, not for lack of trying on Piandao's part - I swear he's trying to weed out all the humanities kids. It isn't even a weed out course!" He polishes an espresso glass furiously. "How are you doing?"

Zuko chokes. "Oh, I'm - I'm fine, you know it's a hard class and all -"

"You're getting an A, aren't you?" Sokka squints at him from behind a bag of coffee beans. "Curve breaker," he scoffs.

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm, what did you call it? A 'burnt-out gifted kid with people pleasing tendencies'." Zuko crosses his arms and huffs at the memory of that conversation. Sokka had read him like a picture book. And it was not fair for one person to be that good at emotions.

"You are correct, I did indeed call you that." Sokka pulls the first shot of the morning. "And it looks like I was right."

"You know what you said the other week, about being a good listener?"

"Sure do," Sokka takes a sip of the espresso, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, if we're going to be... friends, I just think you'd want to know that - I'm autistic." Zuko stares at Sokka searching his face for any cues about what the next words out of his mouth will be, waiting for the facade of friendship to drop. He furiously rolls the acupressure ring up and down his thumb.

"Okay, that's great!"

"...what."

Zuko's hands freeze and he squeezes the ring against his skin, feeling the pressure increase.

"That's great, I'm glad you felt safe enough to tell me that. I kind of guessed your parents weren't as accommodating as mine?"

Zuko laughs something sour. "No, no they were not." He looks up in surprise as Sokka puts an iced matcha, extra honey, in front of him. "You're right though, I do feel safe here. I feel safe with you." Zuko looks down at the acupressure ring on his thumb, softening his grip. "You could have totally ignored me, but you didn't. Or you could've been mean about my quirks - but you weren't. Why?"

"Well, for starters, you tip well." Sokka smiles and leans across the counter, bracketing Zuko's elbows in with his own. "But you're also a really great guy - you're passionate, you want to make people's lives better, and you're also like, really beautiful."

Zuko feels his cheeks flush. "You really think that?" His fingers still against the fidget again, but he doesn't feel the need to press it into his skin. He's captivated by Sokka's words. Surely, Sokka couldn't actually mean -

"Oh, yeah. Every bit." Sokka brushes his hand against one of Zuko's, the one with the fidget ring. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yes, please, yes." After weeks, Sokka's hand is back in his, and Zuko thinks he's going to implode. "Can, can you hold both of my hands? With both of your hands?"

"Of course," Sokka's positively beaming, grabbing Zuko's hands and running his thumbs across his knuckles. "Now you're absolutely allowed to say no to my next question, and there are no hard feelings."

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Fuck yes."

The iced matcha is forgotten.

+ i

Sokka's feet hurt like hell. Mr. Iroh had called in him to work a double on Friday, and since he doesn't have any classes on Fridays, he foolishly agreed.

It won't seem so foolish once you see the paycheck, he reminds himself. He and Zuko have a deal. Zuko pays for his medical school with his job shelving books at the University library, and Sokka pays for their tiny apartment by caffeinating all of the other broke college kids in town. By some miracle, they seem to be able to make it work. Zuko graduated into the medical college a year early, which helps with tuition costs, and of course his brilliant boyfriend got all kinds of scholarships.

Sokka is indescribably proud of him.

The door bell jangles just as Sokka is wiping the crumbs off the last cafe table. "Hey, we're starting to close up for the night, so it'd better be a to-go order," he calls over his shoulder.

"Even for me?"

"Zuko!" Sokka drops his cloth immediately and spins around, pulling Zuko into a hug. Zuko taps the small of his back when he's ready to let go, and Sokka lets him go, beaming. "You came to visit me at work?"

"More like I picked up your favorite soup dumplings from Haru's across the street and thought we could walk home together?" Zuko shrugs, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his arms. "How's that sound to you?"

"Baby, that's just what I needed today." Sokka picks up his cleaning supplies. "Okay, I just need to put all of this away and then we can lock up and go home, how's that?"

"Great," Zuko smiles at him. "I may have also picked up some more Doctor Who DVDs from the library," he smirks.

"Oh, you trickster!" Sokka yells from the kitchen, before appearing again. "You used my one weakness, pork soup dumplings, against me in order to get your nerdy way."

"Oh, big talk coming from the guy who watches astronomy documentaries for fun," Zuko laughs as Sokka leads him out of the shop, switching off the lights and locking the door behind him. "If it were up to you, we'd be watching Cosmos all weekend, and I can only take so much of Neil deGrasse Tyson explaining the peculiarities of the moon."

"Hey, the moon is cool!"

"You are correct, the moon is very cool. It's freezing, because it's a rock. In space. With no atmosphere. Or life." Zuko deadpans, earning a light punch on the shoulder from Sokka.

"Fine, you get Doctor Who tonight, but Saturday is going to be all PBS Nova, baby. Brace yourself." Sokka takes Zuko's free hand into his as they start the walk home.

"Well, as long as you're there, I'm happy."

Notes:

fidgets in this work were inspired by those from shop StimBox

[lilac-melody]

Breaking Down Sia’s Movie

Okay, so I watched Sia’s movie “Music”. And I bear witnessed how awful it truly is. So before I get into this, here’s some warnings:

1. This is going to be a long post

2. There will be mentions of restraint scenes and how they’re handled as well as images. View at your own discretion.

3. There are Spoilers so if for some godforsaken reason you WANT to see this movie...don’t click “keep reading”

Okay, so before I get into the actual contents of the movie let me say the characters all suck. Not a single character was likable and the plot was barely coherent. The main character, Kazu (or just “Zu”) is a recovering alcoholic and she’s just,,, all around not a good person. She’s very irresponsible.

Ebo, her love interest, is also shitty. Not only is his character based on racism to make the white girl look heroic and brave, but he doesn’t actually know how to take care of Music, the autistic girl.

There was also this weird subplot with this fat Asian guy but we’ll get to that later.

And another thing to address there’s like about roughly 10 music videos sprinkled in throughout the movie??? And almost all except ONE of them were extremely bright and colorful and each time I had to keep looking away. Not only that but ALL of the transitions from “reality to music” was always very sudden and has sent me into sensory overload.

And one last thing before we dive into this- Music stims a lot. And yet in her music videos in her mind, she’s not stimming...like, at all. Considering Sia researched with AutismSpeaks, I’m sure she has the idea that stimming is a bad thing.

So the movie begins with Blackface and immediately we jump into extreme bright lights and music. Music wakes up, and we get a feel of her daily routine. Get up, eat eggs, have her hair braided, go on a walk, come home, watch tv, go to bed. (Or at least that’s the generalization of it) And I DO mention this schedule because it’s important later.

As we already know, Music (who is played by Maddie Ziegler, a neurotypical actress) has very exaggerated movements. She has this very weird way of walking and constantly looks like she’s doped up on medications and is high off her ass.

Everyone around her treats her like a toddler, being overly friendly and being all around accepting and caring of her.

Now I bring this up because that in itself is already problematic. It makes neurotypical people think “oh it must be great being autistic people will buy you things, give you free stuff and you’re so unaware!” when this is the furthest thing from reality. If people saw someone like Music out and about, they would be giving her dirty looks, they wouldn’t buy her free things, they’d move away from her.

Autistic people are not that accepted into society. You’re more likely to get cussed out than helped.

So Music returns home, and finds her grandmother, her previous caretaker, dead on the ground. She has no reaction, just smiling and giggling away and sits down.

One thing I noticed about Music is that she’s literally always stimming. Like, LITERALLY always. There is not a single moment on screen where she’s NOT stimming. And that’s not to say it’s bad but it feels way too forced and honestly? It felt and looked more like a mockery of autistic people who need to stim often.

So George, a man next door, came over to help fix something in the apartment. And it was only After he came in that Music got worried about her grandma. Or at least she was lowkey panicking. This is when Zu comes into the movie and gets a call and has to now come take care of Music.

Also apparently the fat Asian neighbor would??? Flash a flashlight in her room while she’s in bed and move it around as if she was some sort of cat??? I’m pretty sure that scene was just an excuse to launch into the second music video of the movie.

So Music wakes up and echoes “Make you eggs” to Zu, who makes her eggs. Remember the routine I mentioned? How Music gets her hair braided as she’s eating? Well, as Zu’s going back to bed, Music starts echoing “Braid your hair”. Zu doesn’t know how.

So Sia incorporated a meltdown scene of Music being stressed of the routine is being broken. Music starts hitting her head and thrashing around screaming “braid your hair” repeatedly. Zu not knowing what to do tries to pin her against the wall and was literally screaming at her to calm down.

And this is where we met Ebo, Zu’s love interest. He noticed Music having a meltdown and...well...

Zu questions if he’s hurting Music and...

And after that, everything is suddenly all perfectly fine because Music understands that Ebo doesn’t want her hurt and she needs to calm down. And it’s also wonderfully okay because he can braid her hair. She goes back to breakfast as if nothing happened.

Obviously this is extremely problematic. Restraining autistics during a meltdown is a very sure way to kill them. If a neurotypical is reading this and is doubtful, here is one instance of an autistic boy being restrained and killed.

After that, Zu and Ebo follow Music on her walk to get to know her route. After returning, Zu makes a comment about how she’s thinking about sending Music to a “people pound” and then adds “oh but I guess I can keep her”??? Honestly if you took this scene out of context I’d be wondering if they were actually talking about a fucking animal.

Zu later finds some of her old toys and talks to Music about them and mentions how someone “has seizures just like Music”.

Um...when did Music have seizures? This was NEVER brought up prior to this and it will never be mentioned throughout the movie. A meltdown! Is not! A seizure!!

The movie follows Zu around being irresponsible, borrowing money, and so forth.

And then we get to the park scene. Hey remember the first meltdown scene? Music had a meltdown about her routine being broken? Yeah that doesn’t happen. Zu flat out says that the change of route is good for her and Music just happily goes along with it with that dopey ass expression on her face.

Ebo explains that Music wears her headphones “because her hearing is so sensitive she can hear whispering from two rooms away”. First of all, we autistic people are NOT superhuman.

After he says that he says “she can understand everything we are saying” and yet they literally have to repeat themselves several times to get her to understand. They don’t treat her like she understands them. They treat her like a two year old who doesn’t know any better. That was literally the vibe I got throughout the entire movie, especially at some later scenes.

So Music sees some kids running around and that sends her into a meltdown. And Zu wants Ebo to restrain her like he did at the apartment and...um.

Ooooooookayyyyyy. Yeah, that’s your problem??? Okay make the tall white girl be a “hero” then.

Oh yeah just like that!

Also what the fuck is Music’s expression here??? This is a normal look for her throughout the movie and she’s having a Meltdown.

Oh and after Music “calms down” from the meltdown??? She’s back to being 100% PERFECTLY HAPPY.

AGAIN, NEUROTYPICALS, DO NOT THINK THIS IS OKAY!!!!! NONE OF US ARE LIKE THAT!!! IF YOU RESTRAIN AN AUTISTIC YOU WILL MAKE THEM PANIC MORE AND POSSIBLY KILL THEM!!!

So, we keep going on with the movie, following Zu continuing to be irresponsible and frustratingly impossible to care about.

And at one point, she has to bring Music with her to this place where she “works”. And on the way there she tells Music to “not do one of her freakouts and just get it out now”.

Um...so sorry that a meltdown is causing YOU trouble??? A MELTDOWN IS NOT A FUCKING TANTRUM!!!!!!!!!

Later, when walking, Music wanted a snowcone, so Zu got her one. While she was getting her one, Music, QUITE LITERALLY OUT OF NOWHERE, lays on the ground under the bench and starts to eat gum from it.

...Um. What??? Why??? To show us how “hard” it is being with an autistic girl??? Literally what was the point of this scene???

So, afterwards, Music gets stung by a bee, which she’s allergic to. Zu restrained her while she was screaming, though it was brief, it was still uncomfortable. She gets brought to the hospital and she’s gonna be okay because she had an EpiPen with her.

But the doctors say that Zu’s occupation is empty for the insurance.

And here’s where I got from pissed and annoyed to downright uncomfortable.

Zu realizes her bag is missing and for several minutes, she literally starts screaming in pure anger and frustration, at home she’s searching, throwing things, kicking things, screaming some more...

Like WHY isn’t ZU being restrained??? Why is it acceptable for her to do that but it’s bad for Music to have a meltdown??? Honestly when Zu started screaming and throwing things, I actually flinched.

Oh also during these scenes the fat Asian kid was taking Ebo’s boxing class and hugged his opponent during a match and I guess at his apartment his parents argued about that (they didn’t include subtitles on that bit as they were speaking another language....nice. Note the sarcasm.)

and the dad literally attacks his wife and throws his son aside...and the fat Asian kid dies.

So like...what was the point of the kid dude??? No, seriously, what was the point? To buy Music a watermelon pop at the start of the movie??? We didn’t get ANY information about him or ANYTHING. And he just up and dies. Like if you take all his scenes out of the movie, nothing would change.

While the kid’s dying, Zu’s so stressed that she gets drunk and tries to talk to Ebo, but she gets loud and emotional and a neighbor comes out and Zu drunkenly attacks him.

Oh, so even if Zu is drunk and attacking people, pushing them, etc, SHE doesn’t get restrained. She just gets told stop. Okay. Sure.

Zu goes to a bar, returns home after another annoying music number, and makes Music her breakfast before she goes on her walk.

Ebo visits, and he practically says “aight I’mma focus on my own health I’m out”.

Zu starts becoming actually clean after that, she and Music staying with George.

There was pretty much just a dumb montage of her life after that??? One bit was Music having ANOTHER meltdown (for unexplained reasons) and Zu grabbing her yelling to calm down.

After some time Zu decides to drop Music off at a mental health facility, and when they were there, Music suddenly starts saying “don’t go sis” and “sit down now”.

Hold up.

So this movie is telling me that Music is nonverbal, but she can say some phrases, and also she understands what’s going on and YET NO ONE IN THIS ENTIRE MOVIE HAS TREATED HER LIKE SHE’S A HUMAN BEING WHO KNOWS WHAT’S GOING ON...suddenly, out of nowhere, she knows what’s going on. She suddenly knows she’s about to be left alone and suddenly she can talk more than repeated phrases.

I...I don’t think that’s how that works there, chief!

Zu changes her mind and she and Music go to the wedding that Ebo is at. Ebo is a guest at his brother and ex-wife’s wedding. (Which he mentioned earlier in the film and said he’ll tell Zu the rest of his story later which he never does btw)

and while he’s on stage finishing his speech, which is about how he doesn’t know what love is, Zu and Music come running in and Zu goes up on stage and basically tells him she’s now clean and she’s learning to love. And suddenly Ebo’s in love with Zu and introduces her to his entire family at the wedding, share a kiss and then everyone started clapping.

...No, I’m not kidding. Everyone was applauding them. At his brother’s wedding.

They start to play a song, but then Music starts kinda quietly kinda brokenly singing, it was hard to hear but yeah.

And then it cuts to another bright music video and the movie THANKFULLY ENDS.

GOD. That was so frustrating to watch.

I hated the characters, I hated the plot, I hated how Sia chose to “represent” autistic people, it was all a one, big, irritating MESS.

And in the end, do we learn ANYTHING about autism??? NO.

In fact, if I was a neurotypical with NO knowledge of autism, I would assume autism makes you some stupid 2 year old that you need to restrain when they’re stressed.

I wish I was kidding.

Just because some autistics are incapable of fully taking care of themselves doesn’t mean they’re just “teehee brain empty everyone around me is in a super bright music video!” like what the fuck???

This movie was problemtic, offensive, and WHY is it titled “MUSIC” when literally Zu is the protagonist??? Zu is the protagonist, her main story is about her and Ebo falling in love, and her subplot was...taking care of Music.

And then the mini subplots of the movie too. I genuinely don’t understand the point of the Asian kid. And Once, Ebo mentioned needing medication but they never bring THAT up again either.

Even if you erased Music’s character entirely in this movie and it wasn’t about a recovering alcoholic taking care of her autistic sister, the movie would be trash, poorly made, poorly executed, poorly directed.

And, the site I used did NOT add any warnings about restraint NOR did it say “hey don’t restrain autistics in a meltdown” or anything. And considering this movie had 4 RESTRAINT SCENES (2 of them being fleshed out and the others being quicker)...that’s pretty bad.

All around, this movie was awful.

-50/10, I would sooner watch 2019′s Cats.

[lunar-wandering]

Mountains, Caves, Who Cares?

@winterpower98 because a few months ago you asked for a fanfic of a scenario I created, and I am happy to oblige.

Summary: Through a series of events, Macaque, MK, and Wukong end up trapped in a cave again. This wouldn’t be much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact that Wukong is kind of claustrophobic.

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on Ao3

---

"Wukong, if you keep pacing like that, I will not hesitate to punch you." Macaque threatened. Wukong temporarily paused his pacing to turn and glare at him.

"Try me." He said. The two of them glowered at each other, until MK stepped between them, concerned.

"C'mon guys, we can't do this again." He said, "You two do still remember how we got trapped in here in the first place, right?"

You see, this had all started out as a simple training session between MK and Wukong, with Macaque watching on the sidelines, as he currently wasn't allowed to be out of either of MK or Wukong's sight. Thing had been going fine, that is, until Macaque chose to comment on Wukong's training style, saying that he was being 'too gentle'. Wukong, as one would expect, took offense to this, responding with something along the lines of Macaque's training just being 'too rough'. And then, before MK could even register what was happening, the two of them had started fighting again.

Now, at the start, MK wasn't all that concerned, as it wasn't that out of the ordinary for those two to fight. He did start to worry however, when he noticed bits of the mountain they had been training beside start to shake and crumble. It eventually got to the point where MK had to start dodging large pieces of rocks to avoid being crushed.

He must've miscalculated his dodge at some point, as Wukong and Macaque both shouted his name, before tackling him back into a small cave, just barely saving him by getting hit by a large boulder, at the expense of all 3 of them getting trapped in the cramped space. They quickly found that the area was too unstable for either Wukong or Macaque to get them out without the entire cave collapsing, and figured that it wasn't worth the risk of them not being fast enough to get MK out before the whole thing crumbled. Thankfully, thanks to the unlimited Wifi/Data plan Wukong had given to MK, he could easily text Mei and inform her of the problem, so now it was just a waiting game.

...A waiting game that was clearly starting to grate on Macaque and Wukong's nerves.

MK sighed, trying to think of something to defuse the tension, when his phone dinged with another message from Mei. Oh. That could work.

"Hey guys," He said, "Mei sent me some puppy videos and vines to watch while we wait, if you want to."

"...What's a vine?" Macaque asked. MK gasped in (partially faux) horror.

"How can you not know what a vine is?!" He asked.

"It's not my fault that I'm an immortal who barely interacts with modern tech." Macaque replied.

"Being immortal isn't an excuse, Monkey King is immortal too and he knows vines!" MK said, "Monkey King, quote a vine!"

"Freshavocado." Wukong deadpanned.

"See?"

"...That's just because he's an idiot with nothing better to do with his time." Macaque said.

"Hey! I take offense to that!" Wukong said, his tail fluffing up in irritation. Macaque smirked.

"Good, that's what I intended." He said. MK could sense that if he didn't interrupt, another fight would break out, so he did the first thing that came to mind.

He pushed Macaque to the ground, sat down beside him, and practically shoved his phone into his face.

"Wh- hey!"

"Stop arguing with Monkey King and learn some Internet Culture." MK said, "Monkey King, do you wanna watch too?"

"Uh..... no. I'm. Fine over here." Wukong said, before going back to his pacing. MK shrugged, and pressed play on the first vine compilation Mei sent him.

---

A few minutes later, and MK was starting to get concerned. He didn't think Macaque had noticed, considering how drawn in to watching the videos he'd become as soon as they had started, but Wukong's pacing had slowly but steadily been getting more frantic. His tail's movement had gone way past what MK had come to recognize as stimming and had landed somewhere much more... agitated, he'd say. He'd also started chewing on his nails.

Thinking about it for a moment, MK made his decision, and paused the video, bringing Macaque's attention back to the present as well.

"Uhh, Monkey King, are you alright?" MK asked, genuinely concerned. Wukong stopped pacing, turning to give MK a smile. It wasn't very convincing.

...Especially since, now that Wukong was no longer pacing, MK could see that he was trembling.

"I'm fiNe." Wukong said, then winced as his voice cracked in the middle of his sentence. Macaque snorted.

"Never thought I'd see the day when the mighty Monkey King would experience a voice crack- ow!" He said, cutting himself off when MK smacked his shoulder, glaring at him. Macaque glanced at MK's mad, but still incredibly concerned face, and then back at the still shaking Wukong, and then sighed, standing up and reaching out his hand.

"Alright, Wukong, you've got the kid all worked up, just come over here and tell us what's-"

"Don't touch me." Wukong hissed, and Macaque froze, watching as Wukong backed further away from him. "I'm fine, I just, give me a moment-"

Wukong's back made contact with the stone wall of the cave, and something in his mind seemed to snap, as he instinctively jumped away from it, shaking, hyperventilating, and, apparently no longer having the effort to keep up a calm and collected act, sat down on the ground, curling up a little. Macaque stood near him, close but not touching, not entirely sure what was going on or what he should do.

Looking at his mentor on the ground, MK mentally thought of all the stories he had learned about him, hoping to find something to explain what was going on. And then it clicked. MK hurriedly signaled to Macaque, catching his attention.

'Mountain'. He signed, grateful for the few sign language lessons Wukong had been giving him, in the case of an emergency.

'500 years. Mountain.'

Macaque seemed to understand what MK was implying, if his wince was anything to go by. Neither of them were really quite sure were they should go from here, now that they knew what the problem was. The best thing to do would be to get Wukong out of the cave, but MK's phone said they still had about 20 minutes before Mei would show up to get them out, so that option was currently off the list. So the next best thing would be to find a way to calm Wukong down, but, to be honest, neither Macaque or MK had much experience in this department.

Didn't mean they couldn't try.

MK scooted closer to Wukong, not too close though, not wanting Wukong to feel more trapped than he already clearly did.

"Hey, hey, Monkey King, it's uh. It's going to be fine. We're going to be fine." MK said.

"The kid's right, Peaches." Macaque said, sitting down on the ground on the other side of Wukong. "We won't be in here for much longer. That dragon girl's already on her way."

Wukong gave a shaky laugh.

"Heh. 'S been a long time since you've called me that." He mumbled.

"Called you what?" Macaque asked.

"Peaches."

"Oh." Macaque said, lightly blushing as he glanced away. "I didn't even notice I said that... sorry."

"It's fine." Wukong said, "....Keep talking, 's a good distraction."

MK glanced at the two of them, sensing that there was some history between them that he hadn't been told about. ...Now probably wouldn't be the best time to ask though, so instead he started rambling on about some of the weirder stories from his noodle delivery days, hoping that they'd cheer Wukong up a little as well as distracting him.

---

When Mei finally got the rocks out of the way, the first one out of the cave was Wukong, who shot out of there with an impressive speed, using his cloud to fly away and leaving the others far behind. Macaque and MK walked out of the cave soon after.

"Well that was rude." Mei said, "He didn't even say thank you."

"Just let him be for now, Mei." MK said, "Monkey King.... needs a bit of space right now."

Considering that Wukong had run off, Macaque guessed that it would be best for him to stay the night at MK's place instead, and leave Wukong to himself for a little.

...The next morning, MK awoke to a basket of peaches for him and Macaque on his doorstep.

[thechangeling]

Enough.

So a while ago I made a headcannon post about Ty's sexuality and the autistic exploration of sex and sexual desire. I have now written a fic about it. This ones for Alex @bedspells my very own Alyssa. Also side note I want to make it clear that yes, I still ship kitty 100%. But I've seen plenty of people write fics and headcannons about Kit exploring things with other people. There's no reason why Ty can't do the same.

Edit: Ok a long time ago this fic actually got a hate comment on Ao3 saying that I was erasing Ty's sexuality by having him hook up with a girl because he was cannonly gay due to a tweet CC made in 2013. Now I don't even have twitter and I wasn't a part of the fandom back then. Despite all of that I actually don't really consider that to be the basis of canon? And in the books he doesn't really express interest in anyone except for Kit. So as far as I'm concerned this was fair game. Not to mention gay people sometimes experiment before they realize they're gay. Especially autistic people!! And that was actually kind of the point of this fic. So maybe just keep that in mind going forward. Thanks!

Tw for mentions and discussions of sex.

Ty could count the instances he hadn't been bothered by another person's touch on one hand. This was certainly one of them. It was so late into the night it could certainly be considered the next morning. Anush, Ty and Alyssa had been doing research on Livvy and the effect she seemed to be having on a serge of demonic activity in the area.

Ty was fairly stressed about the possibility to say the least. It felt like everything was spilling away from him. Livvy, his family, his career.

Kit.

He really didn't want to think about Kit but it was difficult. It was like trying to ignore a bleeding wound that everyone kept referring to as a paper cut.

The shining lights in all of this were Anush and Alyssa. Befriending both of them had been the best part of coming to the scholomance.

Especially Alyssa.

Meeting someone who shared some of his thoughts, feelings and experiences was more then refreshing. It was liberating. Talking, laughing and crying with Alyssa about the things that no one else would understand was like a balm for Ty's soul.

At a certain point Anush had announced that he was retiring to bed and they should both probably do the same. Livvy was still floating around the room observing their work. But as time went on Ty had stopped paying as much attention to her. Now he was resting against Alyssa with his head in her lap. She was sitting on the couch in the library, carefully running her fingers through his hair and rambling on about something, Ty wasn't exactly sure what.

Ty reached up to wrap a lock of her long dark hair around his finger, then watched it spring back into place again. Alyssa's hair was wavy but not curly like- like some peoples. So it didn't spring and bounce very well. That was the interesting thing about Ali in general. So many parts of her dress and appearance were so neat and polished and well put together that Ty almost wondered what it would be like to see her more disheveled. What would it be like to grab and twist and pull until she was left with something that wasn't glossy perfect waves.

Ty panicked a little at that thought. Where exactly had that come from? He was now more then ever painfully aware of the fact that he was lying in an attractive person's lap. And his sister was still in the same room.

Ty looked up to search for Livvy but realized that she was gone. Guiltily he realized she could have been gone for awhile now. But he hadn't noticed. Lately he had been feeling further and further away from his twin and he hated it.

"Do you think stars have feelings?" Alyssa asked wistfully. Ty laughed joyfully, feeling so light and and so far away from every bad thing that had happened three years ago.

"Because I was just thinking," she continued. "Like, what if they're lonley you know?" Ty had to smile at the Alyssa charm of it all. Also the autistic perspective might have had something to do with it.

"I don't know," Ty said, sitting up. "Maybe they're like us. Maybe they like being alone." Alyssa pondered this for awhile.

"Well no one can be alone forever," she pointed out, then laughed, rolling her eyes. "God how did we get here? Remember when we were supposed to be doing actual work Ty?"

"Well we were stupid to think that would last," Ty announced matter of factly. Alyssa shrugged and leaned back against the sofa.

"Probably. Once the neurotypical left it was all downhill from there."

"I disagree, Ty said softly, meeting her gaze. "I enjoy spending time with you." Alyssa instantly smiled, the kind of beautiful, honest, heartfelt smile that allistic people wrote poetry about.

Instantly Ty was reminded of someone else, another brilliant smile.

He shook it off.

"Me too," Alyssa finally answered. Then she shook her head. "Ugh feelings. Gross."

Ty rolled his eyes at her and laughed.

Then Alyssa sat up again as she seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah I meant to ask you about Anush. Do you like him?"

Ty shrugged. "Yeah he's really nice. He's become a good friend."

Alyssa shook her head. "No, no Ty, I mean-" She paused. "I mean do you like him like you wanna date him? Or do you have romantic feelings for him?" She asked.

Ty paused. He honestly wasn't sure. He had been trying to avoid thoughts of those types of feelings for a very specific reason. A Herondale reason. But the truth was he did like really like Anush. He enjoyed being around him. Ty just wasn't sure what that meant.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly. "Maybe." Alyssa fiddled with her hair, rubbing it between her fingers.

"Hmm. Well do you even like boys?" She asked. "I just realised I've known you for five months now and I dont really know what your deal is," she said contemplating. "Like sexual orientation wise. I mean not that it matters, it totally doesn't," she stammered.

Ty shrugged. "It was never really relevant before. But I'm not really sure. I guess I'm fine with whatever." Alyssa beamed.

"So I guess that means you're kinda like me huh? She said happily. "I'm pansexual. Women are so beautiful and angelic and soft and squishy and awesome, but men can be good too," she mused. "I mean men are......men, but some of them aren't so bad. I mean look at you!" Alyssa tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

"Thanks," Ty responded dryly.

"Anyways you know what I mean," Alyssa waved her hand. "So are you attracted to him at least?" Ty sighed.

"Yeah I am," he admitted. "But I don't- I don't want a relationship Ali. I just can't."

Alyssa studied him for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with the Herondale pendent you wear that you always tell me never to ask questions about?"

Ty scowled. "Yes, but I don't want to talk about it." Alyssa rolled her eyes and put her hands up in surrender.

"Fucking shit fuck! Fine!" She complained. "Anyways, my point is you dont need to date him neccesarily. Just have sex with him and see how you feel?"

Ty sat up and faced her. "What?"

Alyssa laughed. "You heard me. There's nothing wrong with causal sex between consenting adults. I mean, if you want to."

Ty felt the urge to stand up to try and aliviate some of the anxiety he was feeling, but he stayed sitting.

"I've never done it before," he admitted. Ty was 19, he knew most of the people his age had already had some sort of sexual experience. But he had always been too afraid. Too afraid of people touching him and demanding things from him with harsh vague bullshit. In Ty's mind it was just another social interaction that he could screw up and then pay the price for it.

Alyssa shrugged. "It's no big deal. Virginity is just a social construct anyways." Alyssa was playing with her hair casually and biting her lip slightly, to indicate that she was mulling something over.

Ty shook his head trying to explain it. "No, it's- I mean see, you say that, but, one of the things I've learned about this world is that social constructs kind of matter to a lot of people." Ty was taping his fingers against his leg and trying to stop himself from shaking. Alyssa noticed this.

"Because people tell you that's it's no big deal and not to worry, and then other people make it into a big deal like it means something, and then everyone's telling you to do something different," Ty explained with a panicked, rushed voice. "I don't know who you listen to, or what to do!" He was moving his hands frantically while he spoke to emphasize his points.

"Hey it's ok," she cooed, inching towards him. "Trust yourself. Or if you feel like you can't, then trust me." Ty felt a pang in his chest. A cacophony of conflicting emotions erupted within him. But mostly he found that despite his better judgement he actually believed her.

They had created something different between the two of them. Something that almost transcended labels or rules or traditional allistic boundaries. Alyssa was like the armor he put on every morning, with the strength and confidence that he wasn't alone in this world. In the midst of all of their jokes and late night heartbreaking conversations. In the midst of this fragile peace they had created, there was something there. Something indescribable.

Something like the sound of the page being turned in one of his Sherlock novels, or the sound of their favourite songs. A connection. A lifeline.

Ty looked over at Alyssa's concerned face and smiled softly. "I trust you," he promised. "I don't really trust many people, but I've always trusted you," he admitted. Alyssa inhaled sharply. She made an interesting facial expression that might have been a facial stim and then gaped for awhile before finally closing her mouth and avoiding Ty's gaze.

"Yeah that's cool. I trust you too," she said casually. She had gone back to pulling at her poor hair which was shedding everywhere. Anush always joked that he could always tell where Alyssa was by following the trail of hair.

"So, about the whole sex thing," she continued rather unceremoniously. Ty had to laugh a little. "Do you think it's something you're actually interested in? Or do you just feel like you have to?" She asked.

Ty pondered this for a moment. "I think I might want to. I just want to be with someone that I trust. Someone who will be considerate of my boundries, you know?" Ty did a quick glance around the room to make sure Livvy was still gone.

"Wait she's not here right?" Alyssa asked anxiously, catching on. Ty shook his head.

Alyssa paused for a moment, looking lost in thought. She was flicking her fingernails against each other and continuing to murder her bottom lip by chewing on it. Finally she looked up at him, looking rather amused.

"Ok. This might just be the exhaustion talking, or the autism, or a combination of both. So if you feel uncomfortable with what I'm about to say, then afterwards we can just forget it ok?" Alyssa sounded serious. Ty just nodded, trying not to be concerned.

Alyssa gave him an interesting look, one that he was pretty sure he had never recieved before. Her eyes scanned him up and down, then she smirked.

"I could potentially offer my services," she said innocently. Ty blinked a few times, then continued to stare at her. She stared back unflinching.

Wait. What?

Ty shook his head in confusion. "Hold on. Wait. You mean-?" He cut himself off. Alyssa nodded with that same smirk. "Yeah I mean why not right?" She shrugged, relaxing back against the sofa. "But if you dont want to then that's totally fine."

"Wait." Ty attempted to clear his head and stay focused. He stayed frozen for awhile, thinking. Then he folded his arms around himself, applying pressure. "Why exactly?"

Alyssa shrugged again. "Well why not? You're hot. I'm hot, and besides you know me," she pointed out. She paused, and then giggled.

"Four hours into investigating the paranormal phenomenon of his dead twin sister and chill, then she offers to take his virginity," she cackled. "I so enjoy our quality time together."

"The way your mind works really concerns me sometimes, you know that?" He asked playfully. Alyssa rolled her eyes at him and shoved him gently.

"Hey you don't have to, it was just an idea," she said, raising her hands in defense. Ty was silent. He was still thinking about it.

"Most people don't really do stuff like this right?" He asked warily. "Like most friends don't just randomly hook up and then laugh it off later."

Alyssa shook her head slowly. "Honey do you see me laughing?"

Ty was conflicted. There was something in him, a new, complicated feeling. A burning desire that nagged at the back of his mind everytime Alyssa bit her lip or pouted.

If he was really honest with himself. Ty could remember another time when he felt this way. But that was different, that was-.

He shook his head. No. Ty wasn't thinking about that anymore. He needed a distraction.

"God I can practically hear you thinking over here Ty," Alyssa teased. "Listen. If it freaks you out to much then we can forget about it. But-." She paused and reached towards him. Their fingertips met and she slowly dragged her fingertips down the top of Ty's hand.

"I want to do this for you because I care about you," she said solemnly. "I want make you feel good. Because you're special, and I dont mean that in the bullshit ableist way. I mean I think that you're special because you have such a big heart and you care so much," she said with a laugh.

Ty felt like he was about to cry. He was taking in long deep breaths trying not to get overwhelmed. He didnt know how to respond to this, this kind of attention and praise. His heart felt warm and tight absorbed in so much fondness and melancholy and regret all at once.

He knew this wasn't anything like what had happened that day on the beach. This wasn't that kind of love that he was feeling for Alyssa and that was a good thing. Romantic love, he decided, was too complicated.

"You deserve good things and good experiences. You deserve to have your first time be somewhere familiar. Somewhere you feel safe, and with someone who loves you." Alyssa wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

"God sorry for getting all emotional like that," she joked.

Ty couldn't speak, so he just squeezed her hand. He hoped she would understand.

I love you too.

Ty took a breath, then nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah I want that. I want you."

Alyssa exhaled, then grinned. "Ok then. Great. I'll see if I can pencil you in sometime this week," she joked. Ty cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"Oh," he murmered, suprised with how disappointed he felt. "You mean later?" Alyssa laughed.

"Well yeah, I mean aren't you tired?"

"Are you?" Ty countered.

Alyssa shrugged. "Hey you know how it is, autistic sleep cycle. I'm gonna be up for awhile. I just figured you might want some time to think."

Ty shook his head. "No I don't want to think anymore. I'm tired of thinking Ali. I'm tired of worrying and overanalyzing everything." His eyes met hers, she seemed a little worried.

She moved closer to him so that she was practically in his lap. "You need a distraction," she said matter of factly. "It's ok." She moved her hands from his arms to grasp his waist.

"Is this good?"

Ty flinched. "More pressure," he replied in a tone that was hopefully not too demanding. Alyssa pressed her fingertips down harder into his skin. A soothing feeling washed over him.

"Good?" She asked, scratching his skin with her fingernails. Ty just nodded, feeling slightly dazed.

Alyssa smiled, lowering herself gracefully into his lap. Everything she did was with precision and grace. Alyssa was a dancer. It was one of her special interests. She had stopped taking lessons a long time ago though because she found it challenging to dance in a group.

She could never copy what everyone else was doing exactly on count when she was supposed to. She was always going off and improvising on her own. There was probably a metaphor in there somewhere.

Alyssa's weight against him was comforting. She was moving her hands up and down his back underneath his shirt while still applying pressure. Ty felt heat beginning to pool in the base of his stomach. He stared at her curiously, taking in her soft curves and her smooth golden skin.

"Can I touch you?" Ty asked, feeling his fingers twitch.

Alyssa moved her hands to his chest. "Sure." She said softly. "Just be careful. Remember pressure and all of that, and try to avoid my stomach area. For some reason it's really sensitive." Ty nodded, instantly reaching for her long wavy dark hair and twisting his fingers around it, pulling slightly. She laughed.

This drew Ty's attention to her mouth. Her lips were cracked and rough looking from Alyssa constantly biting them, but Ty still wanted to kiss her. He had never kissed anyone before. He needed to know what it felt like.

He moved his hands to her shoulders and then to her sides, pulling Alyssa even closer. "Can you teach me how to kiss?" He asked looking her in the eye briefly. She snorted.

"I don't think you'll like it very much," she murmered. "It's not really a good sensory experience. At least not for me. Allistic people seem to like it though."

Ty nodded. "Exactly that's my point," he said, using one hand to cradle the side of her neck. "I need to learn for other people later on." He absentmindedly pressed his thumb into one of the divots in her neck, just to fill the space. Alyssa sighed and dug her fingernails into his chest.

"Ok fine but you're gonna hate the tounge thing," she breathed. She leaned down very slowly and then carefully pressed her lips to Ty's, kissing him softly.

It was a weird sensation but not entirely unpleasant. Ty happily slid his hands back into her hair and began to fiddle with a few thick pieces. Alyssa moved her own hands up his chest to cradle her face, applying pressure with thumbs against his cheekbones.

Alyssa deepened the kiss and slid her tounge into his mouth. Instantly Ty winced and felt every cell in his body seize up. But he didn't stop. He was determined to figure this out. If he wanted to kiss someone who wasn't autistic in the future then he would need to. Ty relaxed his body and kissed her back forcefully, making out with Alyssa until the uncomfortable noise in his head was too much and he broke the kiss.

Ty shook his head and Ali laughed, stroking his hair. "I fucking told you so," she exclaimed. Ty shut his eyes and allowed his breathing to return to normal.

"Ok so that's something we can forget about for now, thank god. The beauty of this whole situation is that we dont have to follow any allistic script for this sort of thing." Ty opened his eyes. Alyssa was watching him carefully, still only centimeters away from his face.

"So is there anything you want to do?" She asked him. "Just tell me and I'll see if we can make it happen."

Ty saw no need to maintain any sort of filter. "Well there are a lot of things actually, but for some reason I really want to bite you," he said pointedly, glancing down at her neck. Alyssa burst out laughing, nearly falling over.

Ty glared at her. "I'm sorry," she gasped breathlessly. "I'm sorry it's just,-," she regained her composure, shaking her head. "I just love how we all used to be the weird kids who growled and hissed at people on the playground if they bothered us and now as adults we're just super kinky. Like it's kind of poetic in a way," she laughed.

Ty rolled his eyes. There was no need to ask what she meant by we. When Alyssa said we, it only referred to one thing.

"I'm sure it's not absolutely every autistic person," he protested. "Also we should move, on account of the fact that this is still a public setting." Alysza's eyes widened as if she had just remembered that.

"Oh right. Shit, as if these people needed any more reasons to hate me. Let's go!" She rolled off of Ty and stood in front if him, holding out her hand. "We can use my room." Ty stayed sitting, taking a moment to fully absorb it all.

He couldn't help but feel the weight of the Herondale pendent against his chest as a heavy reminder. He willed himself not to get distracted. Alyssa smiled at him slightly, almost as if she knew.

"Enough," she said softly.

Ty didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even sure if their was anything he wanted say. Then finally he understood.

"Enough," he echoed back.

He took her outstretched hand and let her take him away.

@ti-bae-rius @eutony-in-whisper @dianasarrow @dianasarrow @stxr-thxif @talia-lightwood @doitforthecarstairs @thelandunderthehilll @zfoxdraws @waterlillies

[bubbyleh]

Good Things

angst w/ a happy ending cw for unethical science and trigger phrases word count: 8,569 (nice)

Dr. Coomer knows what he’s doing is very illegal and he could get in a lot of trouble. He does not work in Biological Research, and he has no clearance to be here, especially this late. But what else is he going to do, spend the night in his dorm room?

No way. Not since they agreed to go forward with the divorce. It’s stupid and dangerous, but hey, the worst thing he’s going to find is some half-disected cow or something.

And then he finds the tube.

He didn’t realize what it was at first, the back of it was metal and faced the door Coomer came in from. It was just a weird pillar in the middle of the room, he thought, until he found himself in front of it and realized. Suspended in a green liquid, lit by fluorescent lights inside and sleeping, there was a person. He’s wearing a medical gown, and there’s an oxygen mask and other monitoring equipment strapped to him.

“My goodness,” Coomer says without meaning to.

The person in the tube cracks an eye open, clearly having heard him and woken up. He glares at him before moving his hands in a manner that Coomer recognizes as sign language.

Too bad Coomer’s very rusty. Crap, he thinks he still has his old books somewhere. He waves and shrugs with an apologetic smile.

The tube person rolls his eyes, before exaggeratedly pointing at Coomer. Then, by making a hook with his left hand and a fist with his right, he makes the shape of a question mark.

Clearly this man can hear him, so Coomer clears his throat. “Well, I’m Dr. Harold Coomer,” he introduces himself. “I work in Waste Disposal. Who are you, then?”

The question catches the stranger off-guard. He looks around as if confused by who Coomer could be addressing, his dark hair swishing after him. When he turns back, he points to the base of the tube, where Coomer notices for the first time the placard at the bottom.

BU-33Y

“Huh,” Coomer remarks, squinting at the name slightly. “So you’re Bubby, then?”

He facepalms, but the name sticks.

☆*☆

[B is the department. U is the project designation.]

Coomer nods along as Bubby explains his name. He’d been surprised when Coomer returned a week after their first encounter, doubly so when he could actually understand the signs he used. Bubby still seemed apprehensive to speak with Coomer, but he didn’t tell him to leave.

[33 is my number, Y refers to the batch I come from.]

Bubby had told him a lot about himself, or rather, the project he originates from. The Ultimate Lifeform, Black Mesa’s attempt to make a perfect scientist. Incredibly intelligent, superhuman abilities, and government property. Eventually his testing is going to involve him working among other scientists, a prospect Coomer is thrilled by.

“Batch?” Coomer questions. He feels somewhat awkward, sitting in front of the tube. Bubby doesn’t seem to mind, though.

[Same genetic code,] Bubby winces at the thought. [My brothers, I guess. I’m the youngest.]

“Well, where are the other thirty-two, then?” Coomer asks. “And all the other batches?”

Bubby looks past Coomer, deeper into Biological Research. [Gone. Some of them are around, kind of.] For the first time, Coomer notices fear on his companion’s face. [They were out too long. They died, or fell apart.] He kicks, legs swishing through the green tube goo.

“But you’re not going to, right?” Coomer has to know. He’s just met Bubby, so maybe his attachment is a little much, but this person is so smart, so witty, so intelligent! To think he could just… stop being, one day.

[No,] Bubby’s got a confident smirk on his face, but his hands are shaking. [They’re working to fix it. I’m gonna be out of here for good someday.]

☆*☆

Their meetings continue for months. Coomer doesn't bring up his impending divorce with Bubby, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it. It isn’t a crime to want to hold onto the one person who doesn't look at him with pity these days! Besides, Bubby always redirects conversation away from his own feelings, why the hell would he listen to Coomer’s?

Well, part of that assumption is challenged when Coomer finds Bubby in his tube, fidgeting with his fingers with a distant look in his eyes. He doesn’t even notice Coomer at first.

“Good evening, Bubby!” Coomer grins, putting on his best friendly face. Bubby startles, going rigid almost like a goat. “Is something troubling you?”

Bubby shakes his head almost immediately, but seems to pause upon making eye contact with Coomer. He looks away as he signs, [Actually, you might be able to help me with this.]

“Ah, what do you need?” Coomer takes a seat in front of the tube, as he often does when he comes to see Bubby. He waits patiently while Bubby struggles to find his words.

[Do you remember what you told me last week?] Bubby starts, but after Coomer gives him a lost look, he adds, [About being a man.]

Oh, Coomer remembered! He’d been showing off the enhancements he’d received from the Cybernetics department, because while Bubby was familiar with their work, seeing it firsthand was a whole other thing entirely. Bubby was trying to downplay the fact that he was marvelling his Extendo-Arms™ when Coomer mentioned that they had done a few of his transition surgeries as well.

The look of pure confusion on Bubby’s face would be something Coomer always cherished. He gave him a brief explanation on gender identity, sadly not touching on the more intricate details due to time restraints. But Bubby had gotten the gist of it! And now he was asking to know more? It was a scenario Coomer could only dream of.

“Of course I remember!” Coomer exclaims. “Would you like me to elaborate on some of the points I made? I know I had to leave before we could get into my own lived experience, but I hope the general descriptions were adequate!”

[I’ve been thinking about it,] Bubby is obviously uncomfortable. [I’m not a man. Or a woman.]

Well that’s certainly not what Coomer was expecting, but that’s not a bad thing! Finally, a friend who also isn’t cis! He shakes his fists up and down in excitement, before rushing forward to scoop Bubby up in a big hug.

Sadly, there is still a glass wall between them. Coomer slams his face right into it.

Coomer hears Bubby laugh for the first time. Even though it’s muffled by the oxygen mask and tube, not to mention sounding more like a witch’s cackle than something joyful, it’s still the most beautiful thing Coomer has ever heard.

☆*☆

For a few days, Coomer misses his meetings with Bubby. Although they weren't operating on any real schedule before, Coomer had made sure his visits were occurring most nights. But after the divorce was finalized, well… he needed some time by himself.

Bubby’s rapping their knuckles against the glass the second they see Coomer, clearly trying to get his attention. There are less wires connected to them than before, the vast collection reduced to only their oxygen mask.

“Hello Bubby!” Coomer greets apologetically. “I’m sorry for my absence recently, I had a bit of an issue…”

But Bubby clearly isn’t listening. They’re enthusiastic to the point of stimming, excitedly pointing at the large button on the other side of the room.

Coomer walks over to the button and inspects it. It’s been here all this time, yes, but he’s never really thought much about what it does. “You want me to press this?” he clarifies.

Bubby nods, hands flapping so fast there’s no way they could stop to sign. They have that evil look in their eye again, the one that reminds Coomer how vibrant they are and makes his heart skip a beat. He presses the button without hesitation.

Immediately, the liquid in the tube begins to drain, and Coomer worries for a moment that this is going to kill Bubby. But the way they’re lightly kicking against the tube wall, anxious and thrilled beyond measure, tells Coomer that this is exactly what they wanted.

Finally, the tube water is gone, and the glass drops. Bubby takes one step forward, then slips in some of the liquid left at the bottom.

“FUCK!” they yell. It’s the first word Coomer ever hears them say.

“Oh dear, Bubby!” Coomer’s at their side in an instant, helping them sit back up. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Bubby shoos away Coomer’s helpful hands. Their voice is almost exactly what Coomer expected, pointed and snarky. They shoot a glare at him. “Where the hell have you been? I got the all clear that I’m not going to fall apart yesterday.”

Coomer winces, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. Bubby doesn’t even know he was married, let alone in the middle of a bitter divorce up until recently.

“I, um,” he stammers. “I had something happen?”

Bubby rolls their eyes. “No shit.” They take Coomer’s hand. “Can you grab my glasses for me? You’re about to watch me burn shit.”

Coomer tries to ignore the burning feeling in his face and chest when he looks at their hands, instead focusing on the burning feeling that comes from standing way too close to Bubby’s fire.

☆*☆

Things change very quickly after that. Bubby gets their neural implants put in—which they’re rightfully pissy about—but they’re moving forward. After all, limiting the government secrets you can tell is a sign that you’ll soon be around people who don’t know them. Besides, Coomer already knows anything they would have told him without the barrier, so they’ll always have him around!

Just mentioning that halts Bubby’s thrashing against the metal walls and medical equipment. Their hands still, their expression softens, and they tilt their head slightly, as if in wonder of the man in front of them.

Coomer feels seen in a way he never has before.

☆*☆

They wait a few days after Bubby’s “release into the wild” (as Coomer calls it) before visiting with each other again. Give Bubby a few days at work and the plausible deniability that he met Coomer during that time. But now that time is up, and Coomer’s excited to hear how Chemical Engineering has been treating his friend!

His friend. Coomer has long since accepted he has a bit of a crush on Bubby, which is kind of embarrassing to admit as he’s rapidly approaching forty years old. When you constantly catch yourself thinking about running your hand through your friend’s hair, though, or wondering what it would be like to kiss him with all those sharp teeth… it’s obvious at that point.

In stark contrast from before, Bubby visits Coomer’s dorm room. He insists that his own is nowhere near ready to receive guests in, and he’d much rather see what a lived-in space should look like. Coomer doesn’t mention he only got downgraded to this singles’ dorm a month ago.

The second he steps in, while Coomer tries to avoid thinking about how good he looks in actual clothes, Bubby starts complaining.

“What the fuck!? Why do you have a better dorm than me?!” Bubby gestures around him. “You’ve got, like, three different rooms here!”

“I’ve been working for Black Mesa for almost twenty years, Bubby!” Coomer explains. “I have a bit of seniority over you.”

Bubby rolls his eyes. “Big deal, I’ve practically been working here for thirty-eight years! That’s more than you!” He crosses his arms and grumbles about favoritism.

Coomer puts all his energy into ignoring how adorable Bubby looks when he’s grumpy.

☆*☆

“Harold! What do you mean you’re divorced!?”

They’re sitting on the couch in Coomer’s dorm, Bubby clutching one of his throw pillows. It hurt to bring up, but Coomer figures that Bubby would have found out eventually. He really didn’t want them to hear about it from a colleague of theirs that was an acquaintance at best.

“Well, I am!” Coomer attempts to keep a tone of cheerfulness in his voice. “The proceedings started just before I met you, and everything’s been finalized for a few months now.”

Bubby stands, and Coomer’s afraid for a moment that they're about to start lecturing him on trust.

They point a finger at him. “You’re telling me you have an ex we could have been bashing this whole time?!”

☆*☆

Though it takes a while, Bubby finally relents and allows Coomer to come over to their dorm, and while it’s much smaller, he loves it more than his own. It’s cozy! The two of them have to sit on the bed to watch TV, since there isn’t enough room for a couch.

Which is exactly what they’re doing. Coomer has a lot of media he plans on catching Bubby up on, prioritizing his own favorites! But they are currently watching an action movie, which he knows they’ll both enjoy. Acts of heroism and explosions? It’s like the industry was made entirely for the two of them!

They’re sitting very close, Bubby practically leaning against him. Not that Coomer’s complaining, they’re practically a heater. And given how far underground they are, he’s taking any source of warmth he can get. The physical contact is also making him very flustered, and thus, more body heat!

A huge explosion rocks the screen, and Coomer laughs. “See, Bubby! I told you there would be something in here for you!”

“Huh?” Bubby mumbles and sits up. They’re clearly rubbing their eyes.

“Bubby, have you been asleep?” Coomer asks, already knowing the answer.

They blink, the fog clearly leaving their brain. “Oh,” Bubby says, as if realizing that’s what happened. “Yeah, so what? It’s my room.”

“You have company!”

Bubby squints at Coomer, before removing their glasses. “I don’t see any company.”

“Bubby! You can still hear me!”

“The world is just blurry shapes now! For all I know, I’m alone!”

Oh, well if someone’s going to be childish, then Coomer can play their game. Using Bubby’s reduced eyesight to his advantage, Coomer snatches their glasses from their hand. They gasp dramatically.

“Harold! How dare you!” Bubby attempts to swipe their glasses back, but it’s a little hard to do that when their hand-eye coordination is shot. Coomer holds the glasses above their heads, teasingly.

“What’s wrong, professor? Can’t find your glasses?” he grins, waggling the sight aids ever so mockingly.

Coomer was not expecting Bubby to tackle him to the bed. “It’s doctor, shut up!” they growl, reaching for his outstretched hand. “Give them back!”

He does his best to shove Bubby back, but since he’s not putting too much effort in, it’s no use. Finally, Bubby’s hand manages to find purchase on the glasses’ bridge. They yank their glasses back, shouting a triumphant “Aha!” as they do so.

Bubby returns their glasses to their rightful place, smirking with their shark-like teeth showing. “You thought you could-”

Coomer suddenly realizes how close their faces are to each other. And that Bubby’s practically got him pinned against the bed. His hand lingers on their stomach, halted in its effort to push Bubby away.

Bubby seems to as well, as they suddenly stop talking, their cheeks turning a bright red that Coomer’s sure matches his own. After the longest moment of stillness, they abruptly fall back, almost fearful.

“Fuck!” Bubby curls in on themself, gripping their temples with their hands. “That was- it was nothing!”

Coomer sits up, tentatively reaching a hand out. “Bubby…”

They slap his hand away. “Stop it, Harold!” Bubby’s tone is harsh, but Coomer can hear their voice cracking. “Just stop, okay?! It was nothing!” They’re practically about to pull their hair out of their head.

“Bubby!” Coomer grabs onto their wrists, bringing them between the two of them. He looks Bubby in the eye. “Calm down. Breathe with me, alright?”

Clearly biting down whatever they were going to say, Bubby nods as if it’s the only thing they can do. Slowly, Coomer sees the tension fall from their shoulders, their arms going slack. After a few rounds of breathing, Bubby gently draws their hands back, and Coomer lets them.

“Now, what’s the matter with you?” Coomer moves to sit beside Bubby. “And don’t you dare say it’s nothing, again.”

Bubby drops their head onto their knees. “I know you’re in love with me, Coomer. You’re like a puppy, it’s not hard to read you.”

Coomer sighs. This is a rejection, then? As a divorced man, Coomer should be used to this, but… he isn’t. Not from Bubby.

Bubby looks back up at him. “And I know what you want in a relationship, and it’s not me.”

Huh?

“Not you?” The concept is so absurd that Coomer’s sure he must not have heard them correctly.

“Actual person things!” Bubby gestures to the ceiling as they speak. “Like going to the surface, or living together, or going to nice restaurants!” They frown. “I can’t give you that.”

A beat passes while Coomer figures out how to respond to that.

“You know you’re wrong, right?”

Now it’s Bubby’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“While those things are nice, I don’t need any of them in a romantic relationship.” He takes Bubby’s hand. “I just need someone who’s nice to spend time with and is willing to put the effort in.”

Bubby’s face turns bright red again. “Oh,” they say, squeezing Coomer’s hand. “Well, I can do that.”

“Can you?” Coomer’s mostly joking, still riding the high of mutual romantic feelings, but Bubby takes it seriously.

“Of course I can!” They throw their arms around his shoulders, a stupid grin now spread across their face from cheek to cheek. “Just you wait, Harold, I’m going to romance the socks off of you!”

For the second time today, their faces are inches apart.

Bubby doesn’t back away this time. “I can kiss you, right?”

“Oh most definitely,” Coomer responds.

It turns out, kissing Bubby is everything Coomer had hoped it would be and more. Their lips are warm, and the feeling of them smiling into the kiss as they grip the back of his shirt, pulling him closer, is one he’ll never forget.

☆*☆

There are certain things you don’t notice about a person until you spend a night with them. After sharing a bed with Bubby a few times, Coomer comes to several realizations.

The first is that Bubby sleeps like a log. Seriously, Coomer would have expected them to be at least a little bit twitchy. But the second Bubby’s out, they aren’t moving again until the morning.

Which is difficult in combination with the second item: Bubby is a clinger. It’s cute to see someone who’s usually so standoffish be completely affectionate at night, but not so much when Coomer feels pins and needles in his arm and he’s physically incapable of moving it out from between the two of them without waking his partner.

And waking them up is a bad idea because of the third realization, which is that Bubby is not a morning person in the slightest. Coomer already had a sense of this from their first meeting, but Bubby absolutely HATES waking up for the day. They practically need to be lured to the lab with a trail of coffee mugs every morning.

But their annoying sleeping habits aside, Coomer thinks it’s worth it. After all, he gets to hold Bubby for a whole night! Listening to them breathing, running his hand through their hair (they’re starting to go gray), he has never felt more at peace.

☆*☆

Coomer finds Bubby waiting for him outside his dorm room, standing there with his arms crossed and tapping his foot rapidly. His scowl immediately melts into a smile the second he spots him.

“Well, hello there Bubby!” Coomer waves. “What are you doing here so early? I thought our departments let out at the same time.”

“Harold, you will not believe the day I’ve had.” Bubby places a hand on Coomer’s back, serving as both affection and a way to rush him through unlocking the door. “Some idiot almost blew up the entire lab!”

Coomer turns the key and opens the door. “Well that’s not good! What happened?”

Bubby brushes past him, plopping himself on the couch with great flourish. “The man was clearly ignoring proper lab safety! The whole experiment burst into flames while his back was turned!” He seems strangely satisfied as he speaks, a look Coomer would know anywhere. “We got the rest of the day off because of his arrogance.”

Taking a seat next to him, Coomer narrows his eyes at Bubby. “Darling, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Bubby raises his hands in the air, feigning innocence long enough that Coomer almost begins to feel bad. Then he gets that wicked grin on his face again. “I did, though. I spent the afternoon eating chips in my dorm, and it was a million times better than working for this hell facility.”

“Bubby! You were supposed to bring those chips here with you!” Coomer chides him, but in reality, he doesn’t care that much. He’s proud his wonderful partner fucked over the system just a bit.

Bubby stares at him blankly for a moment. “Oh yeah! I forgot about that.” He shrugs. “They were good, though.”

“I’m sure they were,” Coomer sighs, but his obvious smile shows no ill-will behind it.

☆*☆

Over the years, the folks over at Biological Research get a bit more lenient with Bubby. They’re finally able to see some of Black Mesa's surface facilities, which are mostly just a few upper-level labs. The only condition is that Bubby is not allowed to leave the property.

That’s fine for both of them, though. There’s a lot to do on the surface if you’ve never been there before, and they end up sitting in the sunshine together, talking about things they definitely would have talked about below-ground as well. Bubby seems to enjoy the sun on their skin, acting a lot like a lizard basking in a bright light.

“I see you’re having fun,” Coomer chuckles.

Bubby is laying flat on their back, and even though Coomer knows they’ll yell at him for letting them lay down in the dirt, right now he can’t bring himself to stop them.

“It’s so warm out, Harold!” Bubby exclaims, wearing the happiest grin ever. “You know I love the warm!”

When the sky begins to darken and the temperature cools, Bubby sits back up and scooches over to join Coomer against one of the rock outcroppings that litter Black Mesa. They stretch their arm out, subtly wrapping it around Coomer’s shoulders and leaning their head against his.

“You know I love you, Harold,” they whisper. Coomer has never seen them look so peaceful before.

Coomer beams, taking hold of Bubby’s free hand and kissing his partner at the same time. “Of course,” he replies. “And I love you.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, watching the last of the sun’s rays dip below the horizon. Bubby’s gaze turns to the stars above them. Being out in the middle of nowhere, Black Mesa has very little light pollution. No matter how bright the stars may look, though, Coomer thinks there’s no way they can be brighter than Bubby’s eyes right now.

“They can’t program stuff like this into a person,” Bubby remarks, eyes still glued to the sky. “I’ve known about stars and love my whole life, but…” They falter, their expression becoming grim for the briefest of seconds. Then, they look back at Coomer. “Experiencing it is something different.”

Coomer doesn’t need to respond, not vocally. He pulls Bubby into the biggest bear hug he can muster.

“Ack! Coomer!” Bubby grunts. “Not all of us are ninety-percent metal!”

“Forty-seven point five!” Coomer corrects them, but he releases Bubby with an apologetic head pat. “I’m sorry, though. I just love you too much! I want to hug you all the time!”

Bubby’s face goes red immediately. Even after all these years together, Coomer can still make them blush as though it were their first date all over again.

“Yeah! W-well!” they stammer. “Good! You should want to do that!”

Choking back his laughter, Coomer pulls Bubby in for another, more gentle hug.

☆*☆

They’re curled up on his couch late one night, watching an old movie when Coomer decides to bring up the elephant in the room.

Coomer stops running his hand through Bubby’s hair. “Your hairline is receding. You know that, right?”

Bubby immediately sits up from where he was resting on Coomer’s chest. “Shut the fuck-”

“I was just saying!”

“I do not want to hear it!”

“Bubby, dear, you’re completely gray already. My hairline is also receding!”

“Yeah, well.” Bubby crosses his arms, turning away from Coomer. “You’re a year older than me, so that makes sense.”

Coomer shakes his head. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to settle this.”

Bubby gasps. “You wouldn’t!” He scrambles to the other side of the couch. “Stay away from me, you bastard!”

“A fight to the death!”

And with that, Coomer lunges.

☆*☆

All good things must come to an end. It’s a concept Coomer is intimately familiar with.

☆*☆

The morning begins in Coomer’s kitchenette, Bubby hunched over the table drinking their coffee out of a mug that says “Total Stud” on it. A gift from three years ago. As they rub the sleep from their eyes, Coomer bounces around preparing breakfast for the both of them.

“You’re heading back down to Biological Research again today, aren’t you?” Coomer asks over his shoulder as he fries a few eggs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Coomer spots Bubby signing, [Yes.] Must be a rough morning, then.

“Medical checkup?” Coomer asks, slipping their eggs onto two plates and serving one to his partner. But Bubby ignores him. They pointedly hold the mug with both hands, taking a long and drawn-out sip.

Coomer bites his cheek as he sits across from Bubby. “You know, they’re dragging me into another meeting down there today.”

[Clone thing?] Bubby absentmindedly picks at their eggs. Scrambled, just how they like them.

“I believe so,” Coomer sighs. “You’re sure it’s different from you?”

Bubby nods. [It’s just you in two bodies. Wasn’t like that for me.]

While it’s a relief that there aren’t going to be any more children brought up in Black Mesa like Bubby was, Coomer’s still not entirely sure he likes the implications of the alternative. A hivemind of himself just wandering around the facility? Is that something he wants?

“But, anyway.” Coomer got sidetracked. “I was thinking we could head down there toge-”

That wakes Bubby up more than coffee ever could. “No!” they shout, rising from their chair in an instant. The second they register their panic, though, it’s gone. “It’s… we shouldn’t go together. I’ll probably leave after we eat.”

Maybe it’s the way they look into his eyes, like a caged animal, but something about what Bubby says next sticks with him for the rest of the day.

“They aren’t good people, Harold.”

☆*☆

Coomer catches sight of Bubby as he’s rushed into one of the offices, through a window into a test chamber. They’re back in a medical gown again (that hurts to see), shoulders slumped as a scientist speaks to them. Their eyes meet for the briefest of seconds, Bubby offering him a small smile, which Coomer returns.

Then the scientist snaps at Bubby, who immediately goes rigid and turns away from Coomer.

☆*☆

“To put it simply, Dr. Coomer, the sequencing of your DNA is ideal for mass-producing clones.”

The man in front of him—Dr. Daniels, as the nameplate on his desk reads—smirks as he speaks, and it isn’t at all close to the endearing ones Bubby has. It’s cold, calculating, and makes Coomer want to squirm. When you’re the head of Biological Research, you get to be intimidating.

In the back of his head, Coomer hears Bubby’s warning. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“How did you get my DNA in the first place?” Coomer inquires, because he knows for a fact he hasn’t given them any.

Dr. Daniels just laughs at him, more mocking than assuring. “Cybernetics had a few samples on record, in the event of complications during surgery,” he says. “It wasn’t hard to get ahold of them.”

Coomer frowns. Damn, he didn’t think those were still around. ‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

“You see, I’m worried about the shared consciousness,” Coomer looks for an out. There’s a strange noise in the hallway, but it’s easy enough to ignore. “They’d just be mindless extensions of myself?”

“That’s a simplification, but yes,” Dr. Daniels begins rifling through his desk drawers. “I apologize, I swear I had a paper here that would explain it better.” His brow furrows, but he’s interrupted when

CRASH!!

Another noise from the hallway, this time even louder than before. And people are shouting. It startles the both of them.

Dr. Daniels grumbles, “What the hell is happening out there?”

The office door flies off its hinges in a fiery burst of energy, and a figure steps in. And figure is the right word, because it’s difficult to make out any features beyond pure black and literally engulfed in flame.

Oh fuck.

That’s Bubby, isn’t it?

They look between the two people in the office, finally settling on Dr. Daniels. They point towards him as they speak.

“You.” Their voice is full of malice, more than Coomer’s ever heard from them before. They take a shambling step forward, leaving a trail of fires and scorch marks behind them as they walk. “Get away from him.”

But Dr. Daniels makes no move. “Now, now, Subject 33, there’s no need for this.”

Bubby is careful to avoid Coomer in his approach, made easier by the fact that Coomer has retreated to the side of the office. He can’t really escape without jumping through fire, and, well…

He can’t leave Bubby.

“I’m not going to let you hurt him,” Bubby hisses, climbing onto the desk and raising a hand to strike. “Not like you hurt me.”

Dr. Daniels isn’t afraid. He only shoots a disappointed glance Coomer’s way. “I see.”

He turns his attention back to Bubby. “Thirty-three drop.”

They’re just words, but they have an obvious effect on Bubby. Their flames extinguish immediately, leaving them smoking slightly. Their limbs go slack, and they fall backwards off the desk.

For a moment, Coomer is convinced Daniels killed them.

“What a shame,” Daniels walks around the desk, grabbing onto the back of Bubby’s medical gown. “You were doing such good work in Chemical Engineering. We’ll have to move you, now.”

As Daniels drags Bubby behind him, Coomer meets their eyes again. Despite the limpness in their body, Bubby is wide awake and begging, pleading for help.

But Coomer is frozen still.

Daniels unceremoniously drops Bubby in the hallway, calling out to the survivors of Bubby’s rampage to put them back in the tube for now. He closes the door after that and looks at Coomer.

“Now, as for you…”

‘They aren’t good people, Harold.’

☆*☆

All good things must come to an end.

But, thinking back on it, Bubby wasn’t just a good thing. No, the term “good thing” is not enough to describe the impact they left on Harold Coomer’s life. He knows it isn’t, not with the way he wakes up cold every morning, reaching for a warmth that isn’t there. Coomer finds himself boxing up leftovers more often than not, making enough food for two out of habit. He cries whenever he finds something in his dorm that Bubby left behind, like their mug or a sweater.

All good things must come to an end, but Bubby was more than that. Bubby was always more than people wanted them to be, everyone except Coomer. And when you spend so long living with so much, the absence is terrifyingly empty.

Bubby was an inferno. Bubby was the stars in their eyes. Bubby was passion, and intellect, and bravery, and cowardice, all in one.

Bubby was loved.

☆*☆

It goes like this.

Coomer is transferred to Biological Research, where they can keep an eye on him. He is not given a choice. He will participate in the cloning experiments, and he’ll live with it.

Bubby’s been transferred somewhere else. Their dorm has been moved. Coomer is not to speak with them again, under any circumstance.

Life continues, but it doesn’t move on.

☆*☆

Several times a day, Coomer catches himself thinking about Bubby.

‘What are they doing right now?’

‘Where are they?’

‘I miss them.’

‘Bubby would love this.’

‘Bubby would hate this.’

‘I should tell Bubby about this!’

It always hurts.

☆*☆

Coomer has to figure out grounding methods on his own. Everytime a new clone pops out, a piece of Coomer disappears for good. He loses items more often, because his thoughts strayed to a clone’s at just the wrong second. He still remembers things, but it’s getting harder and harder everyday. Some days his head is cloudy, and he can’t quite figure out what it is he’s supposed to do at work.

If Bubby were here, they would make fun of him. Yeah, they were kind of a jerk, weren’t they? A loving, wonderful jerk. But they wouldn’t have complained, there’s no doubt in Coomer’s mind.

Some days, when he wakes up, Coomer doesn’t remember that Bubby’s not by his side anymore.

☆*☆

Things don’t get better, but over the course of fifteen years, they do get easier.

Coomer starts making friends again, a young man by the name of Gordon Freeman. Coomer can tell he’s stressed out being so young in such a competitive field (especially working in Anomalous Materials, the things he’s heard about that department…), so maybe he takes a bit of a mentorship role to him.

It’s nice. They’ve known each other for a year at this point, and, well, he’s kind of like the son Coomer never had.

Gordon mentions that there’s a big test coming up, apparently his team is pulling other Anomalous Materials teams in just to make sure everything runs smoothly. And though it’s complicated, his job is rather simple. Push a crystal into a laser!

What could go wrong?

☆*☆

Of course Coomer shows up the day of the test to support Gordon! He hasn’t got anything better to do today, so he might as well see what all the fuss is over at Anomalous Materials.

It’s easy enough to bullshit his way past their front desk, having a million clones of yourself running around means there’s a million spots for you to fill should you need to. He briefly greets Gordon in the locker room, wishing him luck as he hurries on his way.

But, finally, he finds his way to the control room. The perfect place to watch from!

There are two scientists inside, both of whom are tall and lanky. One’s pretty young, Coomer thinks he must be around his mid-thirties. And the other-

“I swear to you, Tommy, this man says-”

He stops the second he spots the intruder, face slightly twitching in a way Coomer knows means he's resisting wincing. He’s lost more of his hair since Coomer last saw him, and though it’s been fifteen years, he’s aged pretty well, all things considered.

“Bubby?” The name comes tumbling out of Coomer’s mouth before he can stop himself. There's no way…

That does something to the scientist, dropping his stern expression for something softer. “Harold? Is that really-”

They’re interrupted by a clattering noise in the test chamber, all three of them turning to see Gordon has entered, accompanied by a security guard.

“Fuck,” Bubby swears. “What the hell is he doing?”

The other scientist, Tommy, preoccupies himself with yelling back and forth with the security guard.

“Tommy, do you know this man?” Bubby snaps (Coomer doesn’t remember him being this standoffish), appearing annoyed when he receives no answer.

“You know, he didn’t bring his passport!” Coomer jokes, trying to lighten the mood but…

Bubby is pointedly looking away from him, his attention focused on the computer terminal in front of him. He keeps mumbling about how fucked the technology in this part of the facility is, and honestly, Coomer agrees. Why they’re having Anomalous Materials run such high-risk tests in such a poor state, he has no idea. It’s like they’re asking for something terrible to happen.

And something does.

Things get worse as the test continues. The Anti-Mass Spectrometer begins to smoke, the computers in the control room are clearly on the fritz, and Bubby is still ignoring Coomer. But everything goes wrong after the crystal sample is placed in the laser.

They attempt to shut the Anti-Mass Spectrometer down, but it doesn’t work. Electricity arches throughout the room, striking the walls and loosening panels. All at once, an explosion rocks the test chamber, sending the three scientists ducking to the floor.

While Coomer doesn’t understand whatever the hell just happened, Bubby and Tommy certainly do. The second the test chamber stills, they rush out of the control room, heading two separate directions.

Some little part of Coomer’s heart that remained intact shatters.

☆*☆

Between all the zombies and aliens wandering around and the sheer destruction that’s been wrought on the facility, it’s quite obvious that Black Mesa has become defunct. As their team of five travels through the depths of their workplace, Coomer revels in the fact that he finally has an opportunity to get rid of these clones. With each of their deaths, it’s like a part of himself comes back.

Bubby catches on. Coomer occasionally spots him taking out a clone from the corner of his eyes.

That first night, after they all stop to rest, Coomer is surprised that Bubby chooses to sit next to him. After a full day of nothing from Bubby, Coomer had thought he was losing him all over again.

“This is the end of Black Mesa, isn’t it?” Bubby asks. Despite their proximity, he still won’t face Coomer.

Coomer looks out at the sleeping forms of their companions. Gordon is still stuck in his Hazard Suit, which probably makes sleeping even more uncomfortable. Tommy, meanwhile, has taken off his lab coat and bunched it up into a pillow.

“I believe so, Bubby,” Coomer admits.

Bubby sighs, but it’s not disappointment. It’s relief. Coomer is shocked to feel him take his hand into his own.

“It’s good to see you again, Harold,” he finally confesses. “You won’t believe how much I missed you.”

Coomer chuckles. “I have some idea.” Every nerve in his hand is buzzing, and if he was too old for this when he and Bubby first started dating, then he’s definitely too old now.

“So what are we doing, then?” Bubby’s being vague on purpose.

“Well, we should probably…” Coomer’s thoughts drift back to their final encounter, “talk. About everything. And then, I suppose, if you’ll have me…” He looks to Bubby, hope in his eyes.

Bubby scoffs, trying to keep his voice down. He leans his head against Coomer. “Seriously? You want to pick up where we left off fifteen years later?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t!” Coomer says. “Who’s around to stop us now?”

Instead of arguing, Bubby lets his head drop down to Coomer’s shoulder. “You have a point,” he whispers after stifling a yawn. “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“We do need our rest,” Coomer concedes, resting his head atop Bubby. “Goodnight, then.”

Bubby falls asleep fast, like he always did. As for Coomer, despite the two of them laying against a concrete wall, it’s the best sleep he’s gotten in years.

☆*☆

While Bubby sticks to Coomer’s side like glue, it’s clear they’re avoiding being alone with him. They’ll slyly take ahold of his hand as the two of them walk side-by-side, but the second the team rounds a corner ahead of them, they’re dragging Coomer forward while shouting “We’re going to be left behind!”

They still haven’t talked about that last day.

But Coomer finds himself unable to complain too much. Having Bubby with him again, smiling and laughing, holding them… it’s everything he ever wanted.

☆*☆

When they finally make it back to the surface, Gordon has a great idea.

“Why don’t we just climb?” He gestures to the rocks in front of them. “Why don’t we just go over the rocks and fucking get out of here? We’re at the surface…”

Bubby tries to deter him, reminding Gordon that they’re in the middle of nowhere, but Coomer gets an idea.

“I could always try to clear the mountaintops with my SuperLegs,” he suggests, and when he doesn’t hear no, he goes for it.

He’s up there for but a few seconds, but what he sees beyond the walls of Black Mesa shakes him to his core.

There’s nothing there.

☆*☆

After the rocket launch, Coomer catches Bubby staring out the window instead of sleeping. Their eyes are trained on the night sky, watching the stars twinkle with a determination Coomer’s never seen before.

“Bubby,” Coomer calls out to them, shocking them from whatever trance they’re in. “You should really sleep.”

To be honest, it’s more for his sake than theirs. He just needs to feel Bubby by his side, tonight more so than any.

“Right,” Bubby moves back to Coomer’s side, nestling their face into his shoulder. “When you- I didn’t realize you were telling the truth, earlier.”

Coomer sighs. “You saw it too?”

They nod, mumbling, “There’s really nothing out there, is there?”

What do you do when facing down the limits of your own reality? What is there to do but seek comfort in that which makes you feel human?

☆*☆

Bubby's been whispering with Benrey. Occasionally the two of them will fall behind or run ahead of the group, mumbling to each other as they glance around nervously. While it is suspicious, Coomer knows Bubby! He hasn't heard anything terrible from him!

But still, he is acting rather strange.

"Bubby, dearest?" Coomer asks. Bubby is apparently back in one of his clingy moods, as he wrapped his arms around Coomer the second everyone decided to take a break and refused to let go.

Something about the word "dearest" irks Bubby. His eye twitches, which is definitely not the effect it had on him fifteen years ago.

"What?" Bubby's obviously fighting against a harsh tone, a contrast to the fact he's currently holding onto Coomer for dear life.

"I wanted to make sure you were doing alright, after yesterday," Coomer continues. "You’ve been on edge today."

Bubby grimaces. "Maybe it's the alien invasion we're fighting off."

"You know that's a flimsy excuse."

"What does it matter?" Bubby huffs. "What does any of this matter?"

In all his years of comforting Bubby, of offering words of encouragement in the face of dire circumstances, Coomer has never fallen short of words like he has now. How can he provide him with answers that he himself is reaching for?

Bubby notices his hesitance and sighs, tired. His eyes are stern and hollow. Without another word he stands, joining the rest of the group and leaving Coomer behind.

☆*☆

Coomer is too trusting. How many times over the years has Bubby called him a fool? Lambasted his desire to look for the good? 'The world isn't as kind as you imagine it, Harold, get your head out of the clouds.'

Bubby and Benrey betray Gordon. Walking towards that dreaded room, Coomer notices that same hollow expression on Bubby's face, his words betraying him.

A second before the lights go out on Gordon, Coomer sees the most twisted grin worm its way onto Bubby's face. A grin he can hear wiped away when Gordon screams in pain, knife tearing through flesh.

The whole time, Coomer is frozen in place. His PowerLegs feel more like stone than advanced cybernetic enhancements. His friend is being hurt, right in front of him! And he can’t…

He can’t..

Do anything.

It's fifteen years ago, all over again.

The second the thought crosses his mind, Coomer makes an excuse to run, hoping at least someone will follow him. He can't let this happen again, he can't be trapped by his own inaction! Gordon might be beyond saving, but they aren't!

Nobody pursues. Coomer finds himself wandering the halls of Black Mesa. Alone.

☆*☆

Stupid.

Useless.

Cowardly.

Selfish.

Spineless.

Coomer realizes it's no wonder he lost Bubby. He didn’t deserve them.

☆*☆

The clones end up being good for something after all.

When you have three hundred subhuman extensions of yourself, it turns out you have what could be described as a one-man army.

☆*☆

Coomer has a plan. Screw everything else, he's fucked up beyond measure in here. He is getting out of this game, one way or another.

He's got all the clones he could find, one surging attack should do the trick. After all, the man is suffering from a recent amputation, he shouldn't be that hard to take down. Well, Coomer didn't anticipate Tommy, but that's not too big of a wrench. He's knocked down, he stands, ready to fight again, but...

But he sees Gordon. So weak, so bloody, so delirious. And yet still walking.

The anger recedes. Coomer stands down, offering peace instead. Despite everything, he can’t bring himself to hate Gordon.

☆*☆

They find Bubby locked up in their tube, and with the way they enter the room, Coomer doesn't even realize they're in there at first.

Coomer is angry, he's furious at Bubby for their betrayal. They sold Gordon, their friend, out to the military! Of all people!

But seeing Bubby back in their tube, pounding on the glass, begging to be let out, for Gordon to understand they were tricked and lied to.

It isn't right.

If Coomer can get a second chance after the stunt he pulled, then Bubby can as well.

☆*☆

They stop for the night in a small room that they climbed into through the roof. As the group talks, Coomer sits next to Bubby, even lays near them when it's time to go to sleep. But he can tell, from the way their eyes keep glancing towards the bloody stump where Gordon's hand used to be, that their mind is elsewhere.

Bubby doesn't reach out for him at night, and after the day they've all had, Coomer isn't sure he should make the first move. Still, even subconsciously, they lay back-to-back as they sleep.

Until Coomer's back suddenly feels cold.

He sits up, noticing Bubby has woken up and is trying to worm their way back onto the roof. Their eyes meet for a moment, both of them silent before Bubby climbs up.

Coomer decides to follow.

The sight Coomer finds is not unfamiliar to him. Bubby sits on the roof, their knees drawn to their chest, gazing up at the starry sky above them. Their eyes are not full of their usual wonder. When Coomer sits down next to them, they finally speak.

"I fucked up," Bubby confesses, eyes still glued to the sky.

Coomer already knew that, but... "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I-" Bubby starts, but they swallow and try again. "When I saw the void, I thought that meant that nothing here mattered." Coomer wraps an arm around Bubby, and they lean into him. "That my whole life, what happened to us, it was all fake and meaningless."

"But we're real," Coomer says, not a lecture, but an affirmation. "We love, we feel pain, we have fun. To an extent, we're alive."

"That we are," Bubby agrees. They pause for a beat, before revealing, "I hated you."

Coomer remains quiet, mostly out of confusion.

Bubby pulls back to face him. "Biological Research knew the whole time that you were seeing me. They thought you were a good influence, so they didn't step in." They grip the sleeve of Coomer's lab coat. "But that day, they mentioned it to me, and I… I just snapped."

Vaguely, Coomer remembers Dr. Daniels saying he had "expended his usefulness" sometime before the cloning began.

"I wanted to protect you, Harold. You were the first good thing in my life, I couldn't let them hurt you," Bubby whimpers. "But when I needed your help, you didn't… you…"

Harold Coomer froze.

Something clicks in the back of his mind. When the soldiers attacked Gordon, Bubby knew that Coomer wouldn't act.

Bubby yanks Coomer back to their chest, holding him as close as possible. "I blamed you, and I hated that I blamed you, and I loved you. Harold, those first years without you were awful."

Coomer can hear Bubby crying, and he knows he's doing the same.

"I'm sorry," Coomer sobs into their shirt, hugging Bubby just as tightly as they hug him. "My darling Bubby, I am so, so sorry."

"Don't say that," Bubby repeats it like a mantra every time Coomer apologizes. "Harold, don't you dare say that."

☆*☆

They make it to the end. They're loomed over by the twisted monstrosity that is Benrey. They destroy their passports, and pour everything they can into knocking this bastard down once and for all.

Bubby erupts in flames, his body once again becoming a vague silhouette. Unlike the last time he saw this sight, Coomer feels no dread. There is no pit in his stomach.

This is elation.

☆*☆

They share their first kiss in years in a Chuck E. Cheese, of all places. After watching the two of them dance around each other for five days, Gordon finally feels comfortable enough to ask them what the hell their relationship status is.

Coomer opens his mouth to answer, but Bubby has a better idea. He tilts Coomer's face towards his own, leans in, and kisses him right on the lips.

It's like nothing has changed in fifteen years. When they kiss, it's like they're young all over again.

☆*☆

They survive after the game. Bubby questions it aloud one day, but Coomer doesn't want to think about it. Whatever has happened that allows their continued existence, it's nothing short of a miracle.

Bubby and Coomer end up crashing in Gordon's house for a few days, considering they don't quite have a place of their own yet. On day three, Gordon's son Joshua calls both of them his grandpas, and Coomer cries for an hour.

They move out eventually, when their government mandated hush money comes in. Not far, but Bubby clearly wants some independence. It's a nice little place, cozy but not too small.

Bubby never starts the conversations about marriage, but they're always an active participant. When Coomer had first brought up the idea, Bubby had to put their magazine down, their eyes blown wide.

"Holy shit!" they exclaim, realization hitting them like a train. "We can do that now!"

After fifteen years of absence, waking up with Bubby by his side, curling their fingers through his hair, is magical. The life they never thought they'd have—a house on the surface, with a family all their own—is reality. Coomer has never been happier.

All good things must come to an end. But Bubby has always been better than good.

[albino-whumpee]

The boss´ herding dog

You can thank insomnia for this one. Also, my need to show an aspect of Albus I´m DYING to explore on the arc after For you. This is a few weeks after the whole photos fiasco. Sann has barely started to learn sign language so he will sound a bit cut(?).

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread  @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump  @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// Slavery, dehumanization, suggestive language to taunt, manhandling, blood, angry caretaker, workplace bullying, conditioning, pet whump, mentioned ableism and negative views on stimming, mentioned past noncon and fucky victim self blaming (it was necessary kind of fucky)

It was odd for him to show the collar around. People stared, people whispered. Albus would hear them talk about him on his back all the time now. But he would keep working. As it was what his owner bought him for. He knew that. He knew it and yet…

“Do you really have to go, Tony?” He asked the man putting his things inside a cardboard box. As he scratched his wrist over the leather band Sasha gave him to cover the number. He frowned at the clean desk, the walls that had been decorated with flyers ideas and visual references, the drawer with his snacks too were gone. All fitted inside the trash bag the lady had put into her cart a few moments ago.

It was a quick clean up so the box was almost empty. His analogue clock, his sketchbooks, his computer, tablet, photos of Sasha and him, of his family and even one that included him looking awkward as Sasha hugged him and Tony took the photo with his phone.

It was funny how much of a life could fit inside a box.

The man shrugged, pulling the box over the empty desk. “I hit the boss’ son. I have to, buddy” Albus lowered his head. If he hadn’t…he shook his head. There wouldn’t have been a party in the first place if he hadn’t. He had been good, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough to be more than that. Tony’s wide hand squeezed his shoulder “It’s not your fault, Al. I promise I hit that bastard because he deserved it. But is annoying because I didn’t have a brick to build him a prettier face” he joked making the albino smile. The other smiled too, opening his arms “Hey, Al can I hug you? I’m gonna miss you man”

The albino didn’t need to be asked, not from him. But it felt good to know he had an option. “Im gonna miss you too” Albus pulled his arms around his waist and squeezed. Sinking on his chest. After a moment they pulled apart and Tony dig through his things to take out the bags of snacks to put them on his arms. “Sasha will keep them on her office now”

“You know she’s never there”

Tony grimaced “But she lets her office open. You can take them and come to have lunch with us” Albus mouth opened to say Zarai wouldn’t- hadn’t allowed him to do that. Even if he went grocery shopping with his ID… “I talked with her. With miss Montenegro. She said it’s alright if you came with us. Just to notify her before you go” Tony smiled. He had his jaw on the floor. Always helping him like that… he couldn’t help but go for another hug.

“Thank you” the albino muttered as the man ruffled his hair.

“And how’s Sann? Everything going ok?” Albus scratched his neck as Tony sat on the chair. They still had time before the new guy came. Tony crossed his arms “He’s having a hard time isn’t it?”

“He’s adapting…slowly…”

They had been eating on the floor with Sann for a while now. Until they could get him to sit at the table. “It was a full conversation to tell him to not be naked in the house...and that he could sleep in my bed alone without...earning it...” that made a vein pop out Tony’s forehead.

“That pervert bastard” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah… At least he’s doing very well with Sasha’s lessons. Told me about this new book he´s reading in signs!” the albino smiled remembering how happy he had looked to see them come back the first few days. The book pile over his nightstand growing and growing as the days went by. For some reason calculus text books from Zarai’s days at college and an old encyclopedia had caught his attention.

It had become normal for him to work on the laptop on the studio’s sofa and have Sann sitting next to him on the floor reading. Sometimes, he mindlessly hanged his arm only to find Sann leaning on to it. He had tried not to touch him, to pull away, but he had caught his hand and pulled it to his head. Sloppily signed it felt good when he did that.

“And how are you feeling?” Tony suddenly asked taking him by surprise. His face was knit with a bit of worry.

Albus forced a smile “I’ll be fine” he replied. The other hummed.

“Don’t forget Jeremy is also there and half the trainees adore you. If you need help” Albus nodded bitterly. Lee had stopped talking to them entirely. Wouldn’t listen to her tasks unless another person told her. A few people had become like that towards him now.

Because he was a box boy and would always act keeping his owner´s pleasure in mind like a loyal dog, he had heard them say. And they were right. He had been trained to have his owner’s safety as his maximum priority. If Zarai was in danger, he wouldn’t doubt a second to switch places.

Albus had to say goodbye to Tony that day to welcome days of dealing with the aftermath of what Robert had provoked.

Dealing with people letting things slip carelessly just to see him try to catch it, bossing him around, laughing when he did all the tasks, when it was “just a joke”. Having almost a heart attack upon finding a dog plate full with dog food over his desk with a note that said “for the boss’ puppy” he had to throw away and clean before Zarai saw it. Going to more public zones was tricky now. He was fine with the rumors. But hearing two trainees talk about their lack of promotions and suddenly seeing him enter the room to use the copying machine went really uncomfortable when he overheard one sigh.

“At least I don’t get deals by making my pet sleep with them” Albus hand crunched the pages on his hand and slammed them on the machine before he turned to them. Recognizing the dirty blonde who had talked as Galván. A guy who had graduated from a top college because his parents could afford it with pocket money and worked there because his uncle made a few calls.

“Ma’am´s position was earnt through her own hard work and years of experience. I would be very happy to remind you, you will need either her or my signature to have your degree after four years of dropping college, so you can find any other job than just an internship someone gave you” the guys snorted.

“What? Puppy boy can actually bark?” The other guy went, a black haired guy with a wiry body type and at least two heads taller than him. He vaguely reminded him of handler Harry. His primary handler. The one who supervised his whole training, and the one to make him stop circling his thumbs, wiggle his leg or tap when he was nervous. Until eventually it came back and Zarai said nothing. They started rounding him “Look at you, acting like you own the place” one of them reached to his neck and Albus stayed still as he uncovered the collar. Digging his nails into his hand “but you’re just the herd dog. Looking after your Master’s sheeps”

“By that logic, I guess the sheep should know they’re below the dog’s watch” the guy felt a chill seeing Albus’s crimson eyes gleam darkly. A grin crept to his face as he firmly put the guy´s hand away. “You were so slow at the beginning and asked me for help for something that took me two days to learn. It was me who helped you not get fired in your first week, wasn’t it? The dog with no degree” the guy scrunched his nose. Albus felt strange as something coiled inside his stomach and a white stinging pain formed behind his eyes “You better not stray from the herd and stay where I can see you”

“Shut up” the guy said pathetically, amusing Albus.

“Shut up what? Remember your manners” and Albus was bitterly reminded of training. Of the white rooms and the men who smiled when they shoved him to his knees. Who lifted his chin up and mouthed his instructions. The same he was saying now, echoing through his memories “You will refer to your superiors with respect. And when they ask you to do something, whatever it may be, your only reply will be “yes, sir” understood?”

The other guy laughed at his friend. Picked his ribs before turning to Albus again.

“Well, aren’t you sharp? My uncle’s boxie is a dumb domestic who can’t even clean a spot right. Just mindlessly begs to be forgiven all the time” there was something on his smirk that made Albus’ skin crawl “he became a lot more fun when they taught him how he could be useful as a romantic” the boy´s eyes sparked with malice “Heard all the ordeal with the CEO’s pet and you, sir” Albus froze “But I need to know from you, sir. Do you herd him too?” He took a step closer to Albus in that same suffocating air as the handlers. Albus tried to control his breathing. It would be fine. Their conversation had gathered a few faces, as well. Quietly amusing themselves with the show “Do you make the Romantic say “yes, ma’am” to her when she’s using him? Or do you make him say that to you only? I heard you were a romantic too, so maybe, you’re just teaching him how she likes it so he can join in? Or maybe, he’s worse than that? He’s your pet sir?”

—

The sound of her heels made faces on the crowd watch on her direction. Many of them running away as soon as they spotted her. Giving her freeway to the middle of all the commotion.

“Take it back!” She heard Albus scream eraged, so atypical from him. It was a surprise to see Albus being held back by a trainee as another stood before him with his knuckles peeled red and covering his bloody nose. Two guys restraining him harder as they saw her. Albus spit a bit of blood as he shouted “You know nothing about him! Take it back!” He jerked against the guy restraining him.

“Mister Serra stop!” the blonde trainee said putting his all into not letting go even as he squirmed so violently. Kicks in the air just to get an inch closer.

“NO! He has no right to say that about him! He doesn’t know shit about us! None of you do!” He screamed at the top of his lungs “Let- ngh, Let me go Jeremy!” He said through gritted teeth. “I need to knock some sense up that stupid head of-“

“Hear this out, the dog wanting to explain to me about a cocksleeve!” He cut him, just making Albus fight harder.

“Enough!” She hollered coming to his line of sight. Freezing them completely. Some people had taken out their cameras and she snatched one phone out of their hands. “What is this? A high school quarrel? You’re adults in the working force, gentlemen” she let it sink, seeing how Albus went stiff and trembled since the moment he spotted her. Zarai turned her head to the trainee with the bloody nose “We wont send some little piece of paper for your parents to sign, you go straight out” Albus eyebrows knit in horror stopping to struggle.

“No, please wait, ma’am” he whispered shakily as Jeremy balanced letting him go.

“I dont even need to know who started. you’re fired. Get your stuff out now” she said pointing to the widened eyed trainee as Albus suddenly collapsed on the floor. “All of you better erase those videos right now unless you are sure you can face the consequences.” She growled loud enough for the crowd to let a thick quiet settle. She knelt in front of Albus and he flinched wildly when she approached her fingers to his neck.

“Pl-Please, please no. Im, I, Im sorry, please! he, he said-“ he covered the collar with his hands. Trying to keep her from taking it away.

“I dont care what he said” she terminated before she took a napkin Jeremy handed her “Im not gonna take it away, are you ok? You took quite the hit there” he nodded slowly, somewhat relieved but not taking away his hand from his neck just yet. Albus kept looking at the ground as she wiped away some of the blood off his mouth. He saw her stand and talk again to the half dispersed crowd. “Most of you don’t know me very well yet. But have clear that I do not take lightly when my property is damaged and much less when the most capable member of my team has to endure your childish behavior” Albus head sank slowly as she kept talking. Nodding when Jeremy asked if he was alright and helped him up “I thought better of you. But you have proven to me not worthy of that right. I’ve had enough of this situation” she eyed every single frowned face, every guilty and compliant. “If I hear, or see, something like this happens again, or I find any of you trying to start a fight or bullying others, I will have them personally seen outside the building after signing their resignation letter and put you on the blacklist of candidates myself. Are we clear?”

“But what about-“

“Are we clear, Miss Lee?” Zarai directed to the black haired girl among the crowd. She stared at the ground while she nodded “Whoever refuses to accept this can come to my office to explain and sign their resignation. Thats all. Disperse”

She watched them walk away, before she turned to Albus “Follow me”

The albino´s heart leapt before he walked after her with his head down. His heart drummed at each step and seemed to halt to a stop when she opened the door for him. Albus stared into her eyes, but as many other times, she was unreadable when she cocked her head.

Clenching his jaw, he stepped inside and heard the door close behind him.

He had fucked up.

He had completely broken her trust in him and he would finally be punished.

What was he thinking? Mistakes weren´t allowed.

Zarai walked past him to a small cabinet behind her desk, but Albus had his eyes locked in the ground. Not wanting to see what exactly she would use to punish him until she was on it.

“On the desk” she ordered still rumminating through a metallic box. The boy breathed in deep before walking to her desk with shaky legs. The uncertainty of what would come just made his heart race faster. He sat on it obediently anyways.

“M-Ma´am, I´m so sorry…” he started, fear taking the worst out of him, his hands got damped in sweat.

“I know you are” she replied calmly before pulling his chin up with soft fingers “Lift your head, hun” Without meaning to, he flinched wildly at the sight of blurry fingers over him. Zarai fished his jaw and pressed slightly on each side, to turn his head up “Hey, hey, don´t move. I know it hurts but I need you to stay still so I can put it on”  Zarai then poked his cheek with something cold, making him blink at the refreshing sensation on his skin. “Doesn´t hurt, right?”

He blinked confused at her, “L-Lidocain?” he said in the smallest voice she had ever heard.

“Uh-huh” she kept rubbing the gel over his bruising cheek. Completely frozen over the desk as she cleaned his busted lip. After a moment she closed the lid of the gel and put it back on the metallic box. He now recognized it as a first aid kit. After she put a bandaid she looked down to throw the package in the trash “You can come down now. How´s it?”

It took the boy a moment to reply, slipping off the wood desk with ease “Better…Thank you, Ma´am”

She hummed as she put the box away, sitting on her chair as the boy stood in front of her desk utterly transfixed in her calmness.

Albus kept eyeing her furtively. Worry visible as he kept rounding his thumbs. She took notice of it quickly and stopped herself from checking her computer to sigh. “Tell me”

“Im sorry for the trouble ma’am”

The woman lifted her eyes.

“No, Im sorry. I should have done this sooner, dont worry about it” she turned on her chair to face him. Lips parting and biting it for a second “You have been working for me for six months, Albus. You know better than this” the way he sank on his shoulders confirmed “I dont wanna know what they said because your reaction was probably justified. I trust you in that. But you can’t do this again, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am” he kept quiet for a minute before he dared speak up again “Ma’am?” he tried “Why wont you punish me?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Would you want me to?”

“N-No… I mean- no, but-” the boy stammered, squeezing his hands tight as he lowered his head submissively “…But I won´t complain if you think I deserve it”

“That´s not going to happen. You did nothing that required punishment, Albus” she sighed.

“But I started…I punched him first” he admitted.

“Well…that’s certainly surprising” she found herself wondering how he had reached his face with his small height “But no. You won’t be punished for it. The guy was also getting on my nerves with that sly mouth. So maybe I should thank you”

The albino sneaked a little smile “Then…then will you keep me? Will I be able to keep working?” Zarai sighed and nodded. The albino looked shaken, capable of keeping his composure, as he went back to work later. She knew by just watching him automatically doing his chores and cleaning up when it was time to go with a blank face.

The elevator was quiet and the ride home even more. Zarai wasn’t exactly a feeler. But she knew the way his eyes were fixed on the floor as he waited for her to enter the house was empty. She gave him a headpat then. No words as she didnt even know what to say to him that would cheer him up. But still, he leaned on to it.

“Thank you, ma’am” he said when she took away her hand to open the door.

“Everything will be ok yeah?” she smiled at him before they entered the house. The boy trailing after her feeling a small blush on his cheeks. He could hear Cloude’s loud voice and smelled something very sweet. French toasts?

Sann came trotting to meet them. Wearing one of Cloude’s shirts that were too big for him and basketball shorts. He bowed to Zarai who gave him a headpat too and a smile before walking to the kitchen to greet Cloude.

“French toasts arent breakfast?” She teased.

“Time is a social construction. Its 10 am somewhere” Cloude thought french toasts were for breakfast too, but Sann had never tried them and frankly possibly neither Albus. Prepared them? Yeah for training surely. Eat them? Not so sure “Just a lil something after a hard day” he said to her before she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The freckled boy smiled wide before he spotted the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened?” He signed worry flooding his face as Albus shifted uncomfortably. Taking off his leather band as he remembered what the other guy had said. Anger threatening to come back. Sann noticed his knuckles were bruised too. “Hurts?”

“Nothing important” Albus shrugged. Looking away “Dont worry, it was just a scratch. but it looks ugly because…albinos bruise easily…” he said every word slower than the last, as his bitterness leaked through his words. Waiting for him to nod, to sign yes, for anything but him softly soothing his swollen knuckles.

“Easy or not, bruises still hurt” he signed as an affirmation, eyes losing focus to wonder back on memories. Sann looked up again before stroking his healthy cheek. “Wont ask how. Instead, Want some ice?” Sann smiled after signing. Just before noticing a tear rolled down Albus’s cheek. Then he frantically started to round his chest as an apology.

The albino shook his head not able to shake the smile off his face for the rest of the night. It was even more difficult as Sann finally sat on the border of the chair. Next to him. To eat french toasts for the first time and had Cloude laughing at their reaction. Even more as, deep into the night, he stroke Sann’s hair while sitting next to him reading the space part of the encyclopedia. Sometimes asking what a word meant and pouting when he didnt know. Taking out the dictionary and reading the meaning together.

The futon on his back didn’t feel so hard suddenly. Even if he managed to keep himself awake way after Sann left to sleep, he covered his eyes. After a moment, he passed his fingers around the leather collar on his neck. Loosened up to sleep like always. Still there. The physical permission to keep having all that. A cozy place to sleep, a job, friends as well as the insults and degradation.

What deemed him her property.

He had her words stuck in his mind all day. His Ma´am had made something clear that day but it didn´t make him feel better at all. It was just…so exhaustingly confusing. He didn´t understand how to be good for her, how to keep the punishments away. By some lucky strike he had managed to get this far without fucking up, but this was an strike and he knew better by now to think she would wait for a third to act.

Albus let out his breath as he covered his eyes with his hand. Feeling the warmth of his swollen fingers, he opened his eyest to stare at the knuckles with bandaids Sann insisted in putting after some ice and smiled before rolling over to face the door, covering his head with his arm like an instinct the handlers didn’t put in him, and closed his eyes to sleep.

For a moment, Albus swore to himself he would figure out his owner as he went by, even more carefully now. It would be ok. As long as he had that one person by his side, it would be enough.

[midearthwritings]

Could I please get an Lotr and The Hobbit Matchup, of you're still doing them? Thanks so much!

🌱 18 year old Woman // Bisexual // Autistic and Disabled with a bonus Anxiety Disorder

🌱 I have a litany of Chronic Illnesses including Autism, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Dyscalculia (Dyslexia for Math), Scoliosis, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, a Growth Hormone Deficiency, Insomnia, and a very bad Overbite. I also have a condition where my right leg is physically longer than my left, which causes pain in my hip and right leg, as well as trouble walking. My usual symptoms include Fatigue, Back Pain, Executive Dysfunction (struggle to get tasks done), Difficulty breathing and talking, Very short stature, and difficulties with my balance. I also stim by pacing around in circles and talking to myself.

🌱 I have a serious fear of heights, partially because of my balance issues. It's so bad that I can't even use stairs without holding onto the railing.

🌱 I know a lot of Home Remedies and Superstitions for like no reason. For instance, did you know that Raspberry Tea helps with Menstrual Pain, or that knocking on wood invokes the protection of the tree spirit and that’s why it’s said to give you luck? I don’t know why I know that, but I do.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse due to trauma, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I really like studying Witchcraft for some reason. The first spell I ever performed was a Healing Spell to help my friend who was sick with Crohn's Disease. Thirty minutes after performing the ritual, I got a text saying he felt a lot better and he was released from the hospital a couple days later, so I guess it must’ve worked. 😁

🌱 My love language is definitely gift giving. I’m pretty cheap, but I’m also an artist, so when push comes to shove I’ll just make something for someone when I like them. I pay very close attention to what people like because it gives me more ideas on how to interact with them. I’m essentially a large, flightless Crow. You were nice, so you get something shiny. But though I like giving gifts to others, I’m not very materialistic at all. I prefer to be practical when it comes to things, and I get very nervous when spending money on myself.

🌱 I’m an avid writer and am actually planning on publishing a book this summer!

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱 I've been told that I'm a very good cook, and I can bake pretty well too.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 I have a habit of giggling to myself just by remembering something funny that happened, even if it was a couple years ago. I also laugh when I do something stupid, because I find my flaws and shortcomings funny for the most part. I love to laugh with people, but never at them.

🌱 I know way too much about Spirits and Fae. My favorite book is called ‘The Encyclopedia of Spirits’ and it shows you how to contact and interact with a ton of different deities and spirits, and I’m addicted to reading it. It’s the best.

🌱 I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I was kind of a Horse Girl as a kid ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

🌱 My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I really love History, Folklore, Mythology and Fairy Tales. My favorite is the Irish myth of Oisín in Tir Na Nog. Look it up if you don’t know it, it’s a fantastic story. But I also appreciate myths from all sorts of different cultures, like the myth of Annapurna in India or the tale of Princess Kaguya in Japan.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), Erik The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I am naturally very shy and take awhile to open up to people. I also get flustered very easily and tend to avoid social interaction a lot. I’m a huge introvert, but I also really do love meeting interesting people, so I try to talk to them when I have the energy to.

🌱 I have very long Disheveled brown hair, that actually used to be blonde when I was little, so there’s a few lighter patches in there. It's essentially a fluffy mane at this point, but because of my poor hand-eye coordination I never learned how to braid it. I have really pale skin, with lots of moles, freckles and scabs. It’s also warmer out, so I almost certainly have a farmer’s tan. I have very light blue eyes and glasses.

🌱 I have a habit of seeing shadows move out of the corners of my eyes, frequently mistaking them for people or animals, but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I’ve gotten my eyesight checked multiple times, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, so it’s either a lack of sleep, or the Fae are getting antsy with me. Probably the former of course, but part of me would like to believe the latter too.

Sorry the description is so long, I can't wait to see my results! Thanks so much, wishing you the best!!

Hey darling! First, wow that was really long! Sorry for taking so long to make it, as I mentioned before, I'm a fucking procrastinator.

Aragorn

For LOTR, I'm pairing you up with Aragorn.

Aragorn had probably loved you for a really really long time.

But he's extremely patient and careful with you, so it took him a while to confess his love.

When he did, it was kind of overwhelming for you, and you were really doubting the whole thing. But again, he was really patient with you.

Aragorn doesn't cover you in gifts to show his love. He shows it by remembering all those little things that make you you.

The two of you can spend hours telling stories and tales to the other. It's your favorite thing to do together.

He loves that you write and always ask to read your work. Although, he never pushes you and respects you when you refuse.

He knows about every single one of your illnesses and makes sure that you always have what you need.

Bilbo Baggins

For the Hobbit, I picked Bilbo.

Bilbo loves you deeply and truly. He thinks all the things that are annoying to others are what make you the most unique being he has ever met.

He thinks listening to you tell tales is more fascinating than reading.

Most of all, he loves when you read to him the stories that you have created.

Sometimes, your illnesses are a bit complicated for him to understand, but he does his best and listens to your needs.

His favorite thing to do with you is cooking. Sometimes, you will even compete over who is the best cook. Although he admitted more than once that you were.

When you are out gardening, he sits outside with you and watches you. He thinks it's beautiful how hard you work to make his garden look so gorgeous.

He is often insecure about losing you. He is scared that he won't be able to provide you with what you need, or won't be able to show you how much he loves you.

As for you, you fear that one day he might grow tired of you.

But the communication in your relationship is great and your insecurities are even washed away by promises of eternal love.

Again, sorry for the wait! I hope you liked it!

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

Miranda

This is a story set within my Bioshock Rebirth AU. A reimaging/reboot of the Bioshock franchise. https://geekgemsspookyblog.tumblr.com/post/626141727587270656/bioshock-rebirth-timeline-this-is-a-timeline-of-an Just as a heads up if anyone is wondering about the context. I’ve had some stories in my drafts for a long time now and I’m finally publicly sharing them.

I’m finally gonna write this story. I just wanna admit this was a story idea I think I’ve had since August. Who’s Miranda exactly? She’s basically a Little Sister OC. In all seriousness this isn’t your first appearance. But this will be I guess her real or better introduction. I’ve joked about her and mentioned her to friends like @feckinatlas and @fishtankinhouse

Amazingly this story was inspired by @pikablob​ who made this Owl House fic here. https://pikablob.tumblr.com/post/625383445502246912/squishes-pikablob-the-owl-house-cartoon I’ve been just lazy to write this. I made this post in the drafts when I was living in the guest room while my room was being remodeled.

Miranda is a character that just....I guess she came to life on her own when I thought of that story. Or just the idea if one of those Little Sisters had Autism. This was inspired by a couple of things or whatever. I love this character. Despite I haven’t thought much of her. I should just write this dang story. I’ll talk about other details in another post somewhere. 

Archie and Elizabeth were in Tenenbaum’s safehouse. As of now after going tough missions sent to Archie by Atlas. It was nice to catch a breath finally. As they were safe in this area. Where the rescued Little Sisters could stay safe from harm. While Brigid was working her make shift lab and checking her supplies. The two young adults were playing with the children. They genuinely liked being around the kids. It felt like a nice break after the nightmares going on in this city. It was reminding them of what else was at stake. That they weren’t just trying to escape or help out the poorer citizens of Rapture. But these children as well.

They were living in what was a sewer section of the slums. Reasons why because Brigid knew she couldn’t do her progress in her own apartment. After being made public of what she had done. The public demonized her. Many people wanted her dead.

Brigid was lucky to find a place where sewer workers had set up a living space. Because sometimes the workers would live here in case if a pipe was busted or so. There were some rooms for some people to sleep in. It wasn’t much. But over the past 4 years, she gradually tried to make it a living space. A makeshift lab, one shower with one bathtub in one bathroom, two rooms with two beds in each, a little dining area, and one laundry room. Brigid was grateful to find a little place like this. The biggest space was where the children would sleep in bunkbeds.

For the past 4 years she gradually got resources around certain places. Especially toys for the kids if more were to live here. It was so hard yet she kept trying. She tried to make it seem like a daycare center for them. To make those kids feel welcomed. Along with making sure they knew where to go the bathroom. It took a long while. But she seemed to have gotten it handled.

The children took kindly to Elizabeth. Probably because it was rare for the children to see another woman other than Mama Tenenbaum. She got along with them just fine. Despite never dealing with children before. She was like a big sister to them. If she had the time, she would hang out with them. Considering Brigid was mostly at work or so. Even though she tried to make the place as comfy as possible. 

While at one moment, Elizabeth did hear a mention from a little one that she reminded her of someone like her. But Elizabeth didn’t understand. Maybe it was someone else she knew. Elizabeth didn’t dwell on it.

Archie never dealt with children too. Yet he was so gentle with them. In fact kind of like Elizabeth. He seemed to really enjoy being around them. They looked to him as if he was a older brother. He had rescued them and made sure they were safe. While Elizabeth had Bluto growing up. Archie hardly had anyone. To him interacting with these children who genuinely liked him made him feel less lonely than how he usual was. 

The two young adults were sitting on the floor crisscrossed. Elizabeth took time drawing on some papers with crayons with Sally. While Archie played with some trying to build a castle with blocks.

“That’s a pretty flower Sally.” Elizabeth told the girl. Sally had colored the drawn flower yellow. “I’m gonna draw a blue one. Tell me what you think of it after I’m done.” She told her.

When she began drawing her own flower. Another little one had come across her.

“Miss Elizabeth.” The little girl asked her.

“Hi Miranda. What is it?” Elizabeth asked the girl who approached her.

“Can I....touch your cheeks please?” Miranda asked her.

Elizabeth was confused. She questioned why Miranda wanted to do that. But it didn’t seem like anything bad.

“Umm sure you can do that.” Elizabeth told her as she put down the blue crayon and looked at Miranda. After that Miranda decided to calmly put her hands on her cheeks. With then Miranda squishing them a bit. Elizabeth felt a bit confused. Yet Miranda was a sweet girl that she recalled. Yet the squishing went on for a minute. Then another minute. Archie was a bit confused seeing it. But Elizabeth didn’t interrupt her. But after those two minutes, Miranda had decided to stop. 

“Is....there anything else you need?” Elizabeth asked the girl.

“No” Miranda told her. The little girl just walked away. After that Elizabeth was just confused. Maybe she liked her face or something. 

10 minutes had passed. Elizabeth and Archie decided to check in with Brigid to see if she was doing fine. The kids were just doing their own things. Considering the young adults needed a break.

“Hello Miss Tenenbaum” Elizabeth told her. 

“Hey Dr. Tenenbaum” Archie told her as well.

“Hi you too. I saw you were enjoying yourselves.” Brigid told them.

“Yeah it was nice honestly. It was nice just hanging around them more.” Elizabeth told her.

“I saw Miranda was squishing your face.” Brigid said.

“You saw that too?” Archie asked.

“Yes I did see it. Well I mean there’s clear glass here.” Brigid laughed a little after saying that.

“Oh yeah sorry.” Archie said. Forgetting that Brigid could she what was going on in that room.

“Umm Miss Tene-no I’m sorry Brigid” Elizabeth got Brigid’s attention. She just seemed so polite calling Brigid that. Even though Brigid told her she could call her by her first name.

“Yes Elizabeth.” Brigid answered.

“Why do you think she did that?” Elizabeth asked her. 

“Ah yes. Why she did that. You two know what Autism is right?” Brigid asked them.

“I have read about it in my books.” Elizabeth told her. 

“Yeah I know about it.” Archie said as well.

“Well...she has it.” Brigid told them. The two looked surprised a bit after hearing that. 

“Are you being honest with us?” Archie asked her. “I’m sorry to ask.” He told her

“Yes I am and it’s fine Archie. She’s one of the few I know who has it.” Brigid told them as she held a pen in right hand as she looked through the glass. “I wanted to tell you two that. I’ve just been busy and I think you’ve may of noticed she kind of keeps to herself.” Brigid was right. Miranda always seemed shy. She wasn’t a bad kid. Yet she acted differently than some of the other girls. Even though she got along with them. She was usually maybe playing with a little toy train or whatever else.

“How did you find out she had Autism?” Elizabeth asked her. “I read it’s could be tricky to find out if a child may have it.” Elizabeth continued on.

“Because I have it too.” Brigid told them. The two young adults stared at her. Brigid was just still looking through the glass until she looked back the two adults. “Ja I get it. It doesn’t seem like it. But trust me. You start to notice some similar traits.” She said as she decided to look through her drawers to find something. After that she found what she was looking for and got up to get closer to them.

“Again I’ve been busy. When I’m not. I try to tend for them as much as possible. Despite of what I’ve done to them. Especially Miranda.” Brigid said as she wanted to show them something. It was some sort of tangle thing.

“What’s that?” Elizabeth asked. She was curious of what she was seeing.

“A little stim toy I made. I will admit, I made this when I first got her here.” Brigid told them. “The first time she was here. She wasn’t acting right. She was in a pouty mood at times. I think she didn’t like the place here. Sometimes she would have a meltdown. So a lot of times I had to hold on to her and calm her down.” Brigid told them. “I will admit....it was strange seeing someone like me going through a different way of experiencing a disability like that. Because we’re all different.” Brigid continued on.

“But you know considering her new surroundings. It bothered some of the other girls. I knew I always wouldn’t be here to comfort her. Especially in a city like this. So I made this. She was confused by it at first. But when I gave it to her. She loved it.” Brigid told them. “Heh will admit I do like it myself.” Brigid said.

“Why are you telling us this?” Elizabeth asked.

“Because I felt it was important. I just hoped you won’t bothered by her squishing your face. I had worried maybe she needs this. Which is why I’m telling you about it.” Brigid told her. She just looked and messed with the stim toy. The two adults looked at her playing with it. “Scheiße I’m sorry I got distracted.” Brigid said as she sighed.

“Is everything okay?” Archie asked. Brigid suddenly looked saddened.

“I’ll be fine. I just remember one night when she wanted to feel safe. I allowed her to sleep in a bed with me. You know how children get nightmares they go to their parents or loved ones.” Brigid told them. “....I still remember the night she told me about her parents. That they left her at the orphanage because they thought she was....weird....” Brigid continued on as she sound more saddened after saying that.

“Are you saying her parents left her on purpose?” Archie asked.

“From what I’ve gathered....sadly yes. Because of how she is.” Brigid told them. She just looked through the glass to see Miranda keeping to herself. “She was.....strangely happy with that Big Daddy Bouncer....before I killed it.” Brigid said as she looked back at the stim toy. “She’s been here since January this year.....I wonder if she’s grateful for me. Not like I deserve it.” She then noticed Elizabeth put her hands around the stim toy. This made Brigid’s eyes widened and to look at Elizabeth.

“Hey it’s okay....I think she’s grateful to have you. And us.” Elizabeth told her. “Would you like me to take this to her?” Elizabeth asked her.

“....yes. Thank you.” Brigid nodded smiling. 

The two young adults went back out. Some sisters were on their beds resting. While some minded their own business. Miranda sat in a corner with her little train she just pushed back and forth. During that moment she was in her little world. She then noticed the two adult’s shadows pop up behind her. With her head turning around to the right.

“Hi” Miranda said softly.

“Hey Miranda.” Elizabeth told her softly. The two adults sat down close to her.

“Hey there. You feeling okay?” Archie asked Miranda.

“I’m okay. Did I make Miss Elizabeth sad or mad?” Miranda asked him.

“Oh no you didn’t. I was just confused of why you squished my face.” Elizabeth said. 

“I think your cheeks look nice.” Miranda told them. “They looked soft.” She continued on.

“Yeah they are soft.” Elizabeth smiled softly. She revealed the stim toy. “You remember this?” She asked the little girl.

The little girl gasped. “Mama Tenenbaum’s Tangle.” Miranda said sounding excited. 

“Yes it is. Do you want to hold it?” Elizabeth asked her.

“Yes please.” Miranda asked her. Elizabeth gave her the stim toy. “I like this toy a lot.”

“It seems fun. I can’t blame you.” Archie told her. The two adults admired seeing the girl play with it. “Do you feel better right now?” Archie asked her.

“Yes.” Miranda said as she looked at him so happy. She just messed with it. Just like with the train but this time. She seemed more relaxed.

“Hey Miranda. If you want to squish my cheeks. I’ll let you do that if you want to okay.” Elizabeth told her. 

“Okay.” Miranda told her smiling. The two just admiring the girl playing with the little stim toy. While behind the glass, Brigid was looking at the with a smile. Seeing a little moment like that reminds her there is still goodness in this city.

[chaotic-neutral-toga]

i’ve spent the entire time since my last post on this and holy fuck i want to fall into a coma

um okay i just thought up a zodiac based story plot thing and uyvbuhyb

okay so there’s this god-like thing but not exactly gods, i guess the “souls” of concepts, maybe?? so like those ones are infinite, not really but like they are, it’s confusing on purpose, but the zodiac are one of a kind each, Thing is they’re kinda destructive. Some do it because they can/want to, some do it because they don’t understand what’s wrong with it (they weren’t really ‘disciplined” or “taught”, so morality is kinda lost on them), and some are more kind, but still dangerous. In classic story fashion, they get sent down to the human world to become accustomed to morals, ethics, and just having a more grounded life. anyway characters

Pisces is autistic (yes im projecting a little) and destruction was the her way of stimming (other than snuggling in a hug with someone). When she gets to Earth, she does things that are “weird” to humans, since out of all of the zodiacs, she has the hardest time grasping the concept of the human world besides stuff she already knew(water and other stuff her sign rules). She’s fairly kind and compassionate, but has no tolerance for liars or anyone that gets on her bad side, which is a side even Aries sweats over. She likes puns (once they’re explained to her), and never understands innuendos or dirty jokes unless they’re really obvious. [Colors for her design: Mauve, Lilac, Violet, Sea Green. Closest Relationships: Virgo and Taurus. Human Name: Clementine.] Panromantic Demisexual

Aries is a bit reckless/destructive, to the point of idiotic sometimes, but he really does have the best intentions with most things he does. You can’t really blame someone for not knowing what they shouldn't do when they were never taught they had limits or boundaries that could be pushed. He can be bossy at times, but it’s usually because he knows his fellow Zodiacs well, and he can tell when they need someone to tell them what to do before they end up arguing over different ideas. Fire is the element he rules over, therefore it was one of the few human concepts he knew, so he took a quick liking to smores; it’s a sweet thing made over fire, what’s not to love? When he’s not riled up over something, he’s just a really passionate and affectionate friend. He identifies as an Androgynous Trigender, sometimes feeling like a boy, sometimes a girl, and sometimes agender, while preferring to use he/him pronouns. [Colors for his design: Red why the fuck does he only get 1 color wtf is this inequality. Closest Relationships: Libra and Leo. Human Name: Everett.] Aromantic Asexual(will kiss the homies uwu)

Taurus is pretty calm, but they can and will destroy you(verbally). They speak their mind and try their best to be honest, even if the truth is painful or undesirable. When dealing with problems, he keeps a straight face(facade or not), but lets his emotions out when it’s over (aka pouting as Cancer give them calming head pats). Because they’re one of the only ones who took to cooking (and one of the quickest to become relatively easily-adjusted to Earth), at times, they tend to be in a sort of parental role when interacting with the others. They can get frustrated with too much stress (aka more calming head pats), but they can usually work through it well enough. When it comes to love, he becomes flustered surprisingly easy, though this is technically hypothetical, as they haven’t encountered any romantic situations yet. Upon coming to Earth, Taurus discovered he’s allergic to reptiles, especially snakes, which makes his friendship with Scorpio, who will not give up his precious boop noodle, a bit rocky. He uses he/they pronouns. [Colors for his design: Green, Pink. Closest Relationships: Scorpio and Cancer. Human Name: Beau, pronounced Bo.] Gay

Gemini was probably the most optimistic of the bunch when they were first sent to Earth; she isn’t reckless, but she does live for the thrill. She has fun watching drama as long as it’s just harmless bickering, and she’ll stop any serious fights. She's a bit slow at reading the air sometimes, which is one of the few things that make her feel insecure. Even if she comes off as prideful or uncaring, she truly does treasure all her friends, and would move mountains for them. She is an ADHD Lesbian, so she has the awful pun of GA(Y)DHD. [Colors for her design: Light-Green, Yellow. Closest Relationships: Sagittarius and Aquarius. Human Name: Mikaela.] Lesbian

Virgo has a somewhat obvious crush on Pisces- not everyone knows, but it’s not rocket science for the observant ones- and Pisces thinks he’s just being a really great friend.(Virgo: I am stoic and distant and won’t open my heart to anyone. Pisces: Hi! Virgo: FUCK-). It’s easy for him to stress or obsess over something, and not give himself any room for imperfection. He’s one of the less outwardly destructive zodiacs, but internally, he tries to do too much and puts too much pressure on himself, which is never a good thing to do. Sometimes due to stress, he’ll isolate himself for a bit, but he gets very touch-starved very easily.. which makes it even more confusing how the snugly Pisces doesn't notice his feelings. [Colors for his design: Grey, Beige, Pale-Yellow. Closest Relationships: Pisces and Cancer. Human Name: Ezra.] get em boys, we found a Hetero

Libra is a quiet one, usually collecting information from afar before interjecting. He likes being helpful since he’s aware that he sometimes overthinks interaction. Asking him questions can be confusing, as he usually answers with simple “yes”’s and “no”’s. He enjoys reading fairytales; no real reason, he just likes them. He has Sensory Processing Disorder, which simultaneously makes him the dad and the baby of the group. [Colors for his design: Pink, Green. Closest Relationships: Aries and Sagittarius. Human Name: Libra, which is luckily an actual greek name.] Bi

Leo is a rowdy girl to say the least. She’s loves just horsing around with her friends, usually in the manner of play-fighting and tackle hugs. If you didn’t guess, she’s one of the more destructive Zodiacs, even on Earth. She denies ever doing things when confronted, though it doesn’t work most of the time (”Whaaat, I didn’t break that vase, that was Aries, right bro?” “Hey, don’t pin this on me!” “BRO-”). She is extremely loyal to the people she cares for, which could cross into naivety if she chose the wrong person as her friend. While she definitely isn't the motherly type, if one of her friends really needs to be comforted, she’ll sit them on her lap and stroke their head(she stronk owo). Though normally upbeat, she becomes somber in grim-looking situations, to the point of pessimistic. [Colors for her design: Gold, Yellow, Orange. Closest Relationships: Aquarius and Gemini. Human Name: Amaterasu.] Demiromantic Asexual

Scorpio has a pet boop noodle(baby ball python) that he almost stole before Taurus payed for it, which is when they discovered Taurus is allergic. They’re an overall cold and distant person, but they’re not completely shut-off; they just have a hard time warming up to people. Because of this, he holds grudges for a long time when his carefully-placed trust is betrayed. He seems to sometimes just appear and disappear during discussions with anyone noticing until he suddenly speaks up or they want to talk to him(spoiler alert: he’s just quiet). He’s very cute and peaceful when sleeping. [Colors for his design: Scarlet, Red, Rust. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Phoenix.] Arospike Aceflux

Cancer is very much a big sister to most, if not all, the Zodiacs. She has a caring air about her and can adjust to suit the boundaries of her friends. She herself is quite sensitive- though no one’s ever seen her like that- and she never wants her friends to feel that way. Besides that, she takes great interest in human pleasantries, such as sweet food, cameras, and lullabies. While she prefers to be the mediator during fights, if someone, say, insulted her friend and wouldn’t back off, she would lash back with a stone cold fury; the shock value alone gives her an advantage in those situations. [Colors for her design: White again with only one color wtf im adding my own, Pale-Orange, Various Yellows. Closest Relationships: Capricorn and Taurus. Human Name: June.] Questioning Asexual

Sagittarius is one of those aggressively positive people, saying what they want with no filter. They don’t take any shit from anyone, no matter who they are. She’s very free-spirited, but she’s not unguided; she knows what she wants and when she wants it. She’s never really hurt by anything, brushing and laughing things off almost immediately. She can get quite impatient, to the point of childishly whining. I’d bet 50 bucks that she was the first Zodiac to “discover” alcohol. [Colors for her design: Blue, Deep Purples, Browns. Closest Relationships: Gemini and Aries. Human Name: Nova.] Butch Grey-Aromantic Homosexual/Femmesexual

Aquarius is an analytical and selfless individual. They approach solutions to situations practically and objectively, even if their heart tells them otherwise. They keep their emotions bottled up most of the time, and if they’re doing something, there’s a high chance they’re doing it for someone else. Before, that was okay, since it was just the Zodiacs; but on Earth, it makes her a bit of a doormat. She’s one of the more morally-misguided Zodiacs, and she can’t really identify when something is criminal. She has a hard time remembering that she can’t say things like “human pleasantries” or call people insignificant compared to herself. They like being alone a lot, but they’re not antisocial. [Colors for her design: Light-Blue, Silver. Closest Relationships: Leo and Sagittarius. Human Name: Aqua no she did not try.] Aromantic Asexual(will not kiss the homies u~u)

Capricorn is pretty much “i’m surrounded by idiots”, but they’re his idiots and he knows he loves them. He doesn't look anything special, but he can and will throw you across the room if you fuck with him or his idiots, especially when he’s tired. He is peak sarcastic bitch and has pretty solid bullshit detector. If one of the Zodiacs is asleep where they shouldn’t be or they’re just leaving somewhere, he usually hoists them over his shoulder. He’s generally reserved but the Hug Pile™, or really extreme amounts of platonic affection in general, make him really soft; half because he’s surprised that they honestly care for him that much. [Colors for his design: Brown, Black, Grey, Yellow, Yellow-Orange. Closest Relationships: Taurus and Cancer. Human Name: Kai.] Aromantic Asexual(will be kissed by the homies owo)

holy fukcing shit is that it. am i finally fucking done. oh sweet jesus im crying this took me so fucking long

sorry if anyone was worried about me, i’m fine. Art, drabbles, and headcanons for this are allowed, but please link this post and/or tag me(or just send it in asks). i’ll try to be productive on this, tho itll probably be in the form of mini scenarios and incorrect quotes.

Here are the songs that kept me from kms while i made this: Lost One’s Weeping by Neru, Namine Ritsu-Error by kyaami, Yukune Ruko-I Don’t Wanna Know by Narcissus, Nakakapagpabagabag by Dasu, Madness of Duke Venomania Eng Sub by IkuSuperbia, v flower-Close to You by kyaami, My Nocturnal Serenade by YOHIO, Len’s Growl-Ghost Rule by Teto Chan!, Fukase English-Never Gonna Give You Up, Fukase English-Your Reality.

pls feed me validation on this i tried so hard my brain hurts

[watermelonselfship]

Self Ship Dialogue Prompt #2!

Requested by @abandonedhearts ! The second one is in another post!

Prompt: “I love you, but please stop whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Click. Click click. Click. Click click click.

Raymond looked up from where he was reading, cozy in a pillow pile on the corner of his bed. His first, and irrational, instinct was that he was under attack somehow, but a quick glance around proved that definitely wrong. Barney would have looked up from his spot reading at the desk, his senses more sharp than Raymond's.

Probably someone walking down the hallway, he figured, and went back to reading.

Click. Click. Click click click.

This time, as Raymond's train of thought was interrupted, he didn't look up, instead trying to see if the sound was coming closer or farther down the hallway.

Click. Click. Click.

It wasn't actually moving, Raymond realized, and furrowed his brow. Now he wasn't going to be able to get back to his book at all with this sound driving him crazy. It was going off in sporadic intervals, random rhythms, and not in a large enough frequency for him to pinpoint it right away. Most infuriatingly of all, Barney didn't seem to notice the sound at all.

That's when it, well, clicked. Barney didn't notice the sound because he was making the sound.

"Hey babe," Raymond called, sitting up a bit from his cozy pillow corner. "“I love you, but please stop whatever it is that you’re doing.”

Barney stopped mid-click and looked back at Raymond, confused. "I'm reading?" That's when Raymond noticed the pen in Barney's left hand.

"Yeah babe no, that's fine," Raymond clarified, and pointed at the pen, "You've been clicking that pen the whole time while you were doing it.

Barney looked, a little surprized at the pen in his hand. "Oh huh, my bad." He set the pen down, out of his reach, and went back to reading.

"Thanks babe, I love you!" Raymond chimed, turning back to his book.

That lasted about five minutes.

Tap. Tap tap. Tap. Tap.

Raymond paused, and listened for the sound to repeat itself, then sighed.

"Barn."

"Huh?" Barney asked, turning again.

"Do you know you're tapping?"

"Tapping?"

Raymond sat up, and crawled to the edge of the bed closest to Barney. "Yeah love you're tapping. Do you even notice?"

Barney gave a half hearted shrug. "I mean, I think I kind of did, but I didn't think I was bein' too loud. Sorry." He sounded pretty guilty, and looked a little stress. That worried Raymond, and he took his boyfriend's hand in his.

"Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"It's not that big a deal," Barney tried deflecting, but Raymond's gaze said he was going to push if he didn't elaborate. "I just uh. It feels real bad not to do something with my hands? When I'm reading. I get real stressed out, like I've got an energy stuck in me that I gotta let out. But I don't wanna bother you any, so..." He trailed off.

"So," Raymond began, "You're stimming? If that's the case babe I can help you find something that works for both of us."

Barney tipped his head slightly. "What's stimming?"

Raymond had to blink a few times to process the question. How in the absolute hell had Barney spent all his time with him, Alyx and Gordon and not figured out what stimming was.

"It's like..." Raymond began, trying to find the best words to explain it. "You know how when Alyx has two band-aids on her hands, she'll rub 'em together over and over? Or how Gordon will do that thing where he takes a string in his mouth and pulls it, then like, plucks it like a harp? Or taps his knuckles on the side of his head when frustrated? Or like, you know when I get real excited I flap my hands real fast, sometimes my whole arms?"

Barney nodded, and smiled. "Yeah, it's real cute when you do that."

Raymond stuck his tongue out bashfully for a second, then continued. "It's all types of stimming. It's a sensory-seeking thing, really common in neurodivergent people, but I think neurotypicals do it too? But if you're doing it because it sounds good, or feels nice to do, and it feels real bad if you don't, that's probably stimming."

Barney paused for a second, thinking. "Does ADHD count as neurodivergent?"

"...Yeah, absolutely Barn. Like, one of the big two that people tend to think of when they think about neurodivergency, though they're for SURE not the only ones. The other one's autism- that's me and Gordon, probably Alyx too but I don't know if she's said so or not so I don't wanna assume. I just know that me and Gordon have talked about it before, so I know for sure with him."

Barney nodded slowly, as if some pieces were clicking into place. "Have I ever told you about the time I went to college?"

Raymond also started putting together the pieces, and grinned. "Yeah, you said you suddenly couldn't manage anything going on and had to drop out your second year. Are you about to tell me you got a diagnosis."

Barney laughed, and grinned bashfully. "Yeah, I sure am! I didn't know that was part of the whole deal! They weren't very clear.... An' I never bothered doin' the research because all of it was in these. Impossible to read huge blocks of text with a bunch of technical bullshit, and it always talked about kids?"

Raymond rolled his eyes dramatically, not at Barney but the situation, and nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, a lot of texts like that are really... just inaccessible to the people who need 'em most! It's crazy frustrating, and I don't have the focus problem. God, Barney this legitimately explains so much about you right now, I love you so much."

Barney went red and chuckled softly. "It that noticeable?" He asked, a bit insecure suddenly.

"Only if you know what you're looking for," Raymond admitted. "I sort of have a special interest in mental health stuff, specifically neurodiversity, remember? And I know you real well, and it like... explains so much. I cant believe this never came up before!"

"Well," Barney admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, "I didn't think it mattered any. I was good at my job and I've managed, so why bring it up? Didn't wanna trouble anyone with it..."

Raymond shook his head. "It's not trouble babe, I promise!" he insisted. "Just like Gordon being nonspeaking isn't trouble, any symptoms you've got going aren't going to be any trouble."

Barney shrugged. "Guess I don't know what my symptoms are? It's been so long since I read anything about it, an like I said, it was really too dense for me to work through..."

Raymond nodded. "That's fine babe! Step one, for sure, you stim, and thinking about it I can think of other examples, but the clicking tonight for sure. Step two, what I'll do is see if I've got any books on ADHD, especially in adults, and I'll run through it and help you get some info." He was beaming, doing his slightly excited wiggles at the prospect of helping his boyfriend along with something that related directly to his special interest.

"I'd like that," Barney replied with a smile, then shrugged halfheartedly. "Sorry for bugging you with the stimming thing though."

Raymond shook his head again, emphatically. "No babe! It's not the fact you stim that was bugging me, it was that it was getting distracting for sensory reasons. But that just means I gotta find you like, one of those buttons that you can push but its quiet? But still gives the satisfying give. Like a remote! Or some other way to stim. You shouldn't suppress that sort of thing, yknow? It's normal, and also good for you."

Barney thought for a moment, before marking his place in his book and closing it. "Thanks, Ray," he replied with a grin. "You're so damn good to me."

Raymond stuck his tongue out again and chuckled. "You're good to me first."

"Nah, that's you. Can we cuddle a bit?"

Raymond grinned. "Absolutely, so yes."

Over the next few days, Raymond found Barney starting to cautiously stim more openly, and while he didn't directly address it, he could tell that Gordon and Alyx were excited by the prospect in turn. The group took turns showing their favorite sensory seeking behavior, and gradually Barney settled into a comfortable routine of a few core stims, even if he didn't always display them as publically as the rest.

After a while, Raymond started falling asleep to a soft click click click.

[face-turn]

All the Flowers (turn to face the sun)

Pairing: Gen; the Shield and its brotherly homoeroticism notwithstanding Words: 1.3k Rating: PG, for Dean’s mouth A/N: While this is technically not complete, I don’t know where else it’s going, so I’m setting it free. Also I’ve been gone for two years what of it. 

The safehouse this time is barely more than a shoebox, a single bedroom with an alleyway window opening up into a tiny living room and a galley kitchen. They never really expect comfort-- they pay for security, for secrecy, not for luxury-- but even Dean has to admit this is a little sad. 

Except. On the windowsill of that tiny little window, a pot of ivy creeps halfheartedly up the screen. It’s just a little one, maybe some kinda ornamental thing, but Dean is fucking fascinated. They’ve never been here before, because somehow Rollins has matched and surpassed Dean’s paranoia, but nonetheless Dean is compelled to carefully water it, to weed the little thing and to turn it a little to help it catch what meagre sunlight peeks over the sharp shadows of the neighboring building. 

“It’s just a weed,” Reigns says, and he says it like he’s an expert on weeds and not-weeds and hey, Dean, have you ever considered being a person with a working brain for once? 

Well. He doesn’t say that last part. Dean infers it. 

“Yeah?” Dean says, focusing on picking tiny blades of grass out of the pot and flicking them into Reigns’ hair when he’s not looking. “Well, s’lasted this long on its own. Think maybe I was a weed in another life?” 

Reigns looks at him with his startling grey eyes. “Yeah,” He says. “Well, you’re like some kind of weird mold now, so I guess it’s not too--” 

Their ensuing scuffle is interrupted by Rollins coming back, slipping into the back door like a shadow. The look on his face says trouble, which means a job, which means Dean flicks one last piece of dirt into Reigns’ hair and stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

When they come back, month and change later, the plant is gone. That’s okay. Dean is used to things that don’t last. 

--

The motel’s on the very outskirts of town, vacancy sign flickering dolefully in the foggy dark. They’re outside of Atlanta-- or Aurora, or Akron, or Augusta. Dean’s lost track of all the places they’ve paced through, hackles up and snarling. They blur together when you never stop and someone else pays the bills.

The pool out front’s been drained and there’s only a couple of cars out front, but the lights are on and this is the address Punk gave them. Rollins is dozing on his feet, swaying into Dean’s shoulder every so often, and Reigns is tweaked out of his mind on Modafinil, muscles shivering ever-so-slightly with barely restrained get-up-and-go. 

Dean’s always had a better stomach for uppers, already has most of the side effects wired into his biology and doesn’t get ‘em better or worse when he’s on stims. He’s the one who bundles them out of the car, drags them staggering into the lobby to pick up a room key. He assures the man at the desk that no, sir, he’s certainly Mr. Punk, sir, yes that is his birth name, yes he certainly can produce an I.D., if you’ll give him just a moment. 

There’s only one bed, because C.M. Punk is some kinda penny pinching motherfucker when he’s not paying their fees, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s slept on worse than dirty carpets, and at least there’s a roof. He hefts Rollins-- Seth, he guesses, because it’s hard to keep it casual when you’re unlacing a guy’s boots-- onto the bed while Reigns mumbles something incoherent and stumbles off, possibly to die in the shower. 

Dean’s still got the urge to move shoving at him. He drapes his dog tags across the old alarm clock-- Reigns will get it or he won’t-- and secures the room as best he can before slipping out the door. It’s gone from foggy to rainy, drops bouncing off cracked asphalt and turning the whole place into a shitty, muddy slip-n-slide. A cluster of pretty girls are gathered around the Coke machine, short shirts and shorter skirts and the kind of high-pitched laughter that’ll kill a man’s confidence at a hundred paces. 

It’s too rainy to walk, Dean guesses. 

“Hey mister,” One calls, kind of sarcastic, and her friends break back down into laughter. She’s wearing a flower in her hair, rain-dropped and vibrant even under the shitty fluorescent lights. 

“Evening ma’am,” Dean replies, doffing an invisible cap. He doesn’t approach, because he’s not interested or capable of buying what they’re selling. 

They don’t seem too put out about it. Dean’s looking kind of rough, he admits, five days unshaved and hands still wrapped to the wrist. He definitely wouldn’t wanna see himself in a dark alley, that’s for fuckin’ sure. 

“You looking for anything?” The girl with the flower asks, cocking her hip in defiance of the weather and his distance. 

“Only the ice machine,” He demurs, and they laugh at him again. He smiles, so he’s in on the joke. 

There’s no ice machine, they all cheerfully inform him, which is okay because Dean didn’t really need ice anyway, just something to do with his hands until the mania steps back a little and lets forty sleepless hours take the reins. 

It takes a lap or two of the complex to settle down. He scopes out all the easy exits on the first go around, because he can’t help it, and then the harder exits, because his mind still needs something to work on. 

It’s late-late by the time he trudges back up to the door, instead of just late. He taps the door softly, pattern set in his bones after all this time practicing. It’s a minute before the return knock comes, a password and response that’s as familiar as breathing. When the door swings open for Dean to slip inside, Reigns is there, sleepy and still damp from his shower. 

He also looks hilariously pissed off. 

“No hot water?” Dean guesses, and is immediately rewarded with a snarl that would make a tiger jealous. He slips the travel lock back into place, locks and double locks and bolts the door behind him, kicks the door stop into place and slides the safety lock in, too. It won’t keep out someone who’s desperate to get in, but it’ll give them a little bit of time to wake up. 

“Seth’s gonna bitch so much,” Reigns says, squeezing out his hair and starting on his nightly ritual untangling. “Boy’s like a lapdog.” 

Dean makes a noise of agreement, watching Seth’s back rise and fall with his slow breaths. Something about him just screams that he was made to be pampered. Maybe the sly hints of a good family life. 

“We’re gonna let him find out on his own.” Dean says, settling onto the foot of the bed and fighting against the weight of his eyelids. 

“Yessir,” Reigns says, plaiting his hair up quick and laying one hand, still cool from his cold shower, onto Dean’s forehead. “C’mon, babe, get up and brush your teeth. We got a spare.” 

Dean hoists himself up, because of course now he’s tired. Brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water is a blur, and when he finally passes out he doesn’t even remember that there’s only one bed, after all. 

When they leave the next day, Seth bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from his surprisingly chilly wakeup shower, the girl’s flower is in a puddle by the soda machine, pretty and only a little bit stepped on. Dean wavers before stooping to pick it up, fragile and wet and almost weightless. 

Reigns looks back over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow up in that stoically judgmental way that he has, but doesn’t say anything to Dean, just keeps bullying Seth’s salty ass back to the car. Dean pets at the petals one more time before letting the flower fall back into its puddle, where it floats and spins endlessly in a reflection of the star-speckled dawn.