#they need to hug each other

[mochipong]

Your last prayer—ten thousand years late(r)

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Lost boys

[munchkin-witch]

manifesting a hug. for s3

[isjasz]

[Day 174]

You aren't alone

In these trying times I decided to not do angst tdy actually we need some fluff

They get hugs🫂

[queer-reader-07]

“i want aziracrow to have a proper kiss” this. “what about a sex scene?” that.

fuck it. i want these bitches to hug. just one really nice, really long, emotionally healing hug.

[somegrumpynerd]

I like the idea that Cross realised Killer was touchstarved (he didn't have the words for it but he noticed how much Killer would settle down from it) and started giving him very small basic affection. Pat on the back, hand on the shoulder, maybe a quick friendly hug, all things he probably learned through royal guard training and thinks of as normal friend/coworker stuff.

But as they both got more comfortable in the routine of it, Killer started instigating touches and he was not shy about it (like not just leaning into Cross's side during movie night, he looks like he's trying to get into Cross's jacket with him)

And that this more intense affection made Cross realise he might also be just a little bit touchstarved

Bonus:

[untitledgoosegay]

re last reblog I do see fanfic culture pushing/replicating a certain model of "what trauma looks like," "how trauma works"

this is a problem across all areas of society obviously, but transformative works are, well, transformative. they're about crafting and modifying narratives where the fan-creator sees a flaw or a lack -- often for the better! don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of "I take a hammer and I fix the canon," it's the main thing that gets my creative gears spinning -- but what happens when that "flaw" is simply a narrative not conforming to popular expectations?

some people just don't get PTSD from events that sound obviously traumatic. they're not masking, and they're not coping; they just straight-up didn't get the permanently-locked stress-response that defines PTSD. they walk away from a horrible experience going "well, that sucked, but it's over now." some people do get PTSD from events most people wouldn't find traumatic. we don't really know why some people get PTSD and others don't. but fandom has an idea of events that must be traumatizing, of a "correct" way to portray trauma. you see the problems with this lack of understanding in e.g. fans pressuring the devs of Baldur's Gate 3 to add dialogue where the player character badgers Halsin about his own feelings on his abuse -- because he must be traumatized, and his trauma must fit a certain mold and presentation of sexual trauma, under the mistaken impression that anything outside that narrow window is somehow "wrong" and disrespectful or even harmful to survivors.

take, for another example, the very common trope of a traumatized character who hates touch or sex "learning" to like touch or sex as a part of their healing process. certainly that can be healing for some people; other people will never like, or want, touch or sex, because of trauma or because they just don't. the assumption that someone who doesn't want sex or doesn't like to be touched must be traumatized, must be suffering from this perceived lack, is seriously harmful -- to asexual people, to people with sensory issues around touch, and to people for whom healing from trauma means freedom to refuse sex or touch.

and there's a secondary trope, one that's slightly more thoughtful but ultimately repeats the problem -- that once someone has learned that their boundaries will be respected, they'll feel it's safe to soften those boundaries. once they feel safe refusing touch or sex, they'll feel comfortable allowing it on their own terms. but many people don't, and many people won't! many people will simply never want to be touched, and never want sex, and they are not suffering or broken or lacking because of it. the idea that proving you'll respect someone's boundaries entitles you to test those boundaries -- the paradox is obvious, and yet this is something i've seen hurt (re-traumatize) people i care for.

people are imperfect victims. people don't heal in the ways you expect. many people have positive memories of their abuse, of their abusers. many people hurt others in the course of their trauma, in ways that can't easily be unpacked in a 5k oneshot. very few narratives of trauma and recovery actually fit the ones put forward by popular children's media and romance novels -- which are the ones I most see replicated in fandom spaces, because they provide the clearest narrative and easiest catharsis, and so they're easy and soothing to reach for.

that's not necessarily a bad thing! i am not immune to goopy romance tropes. i am not immune to teary catharsis. not every fic has to grapple with ugly realities. but there's a problem when these narratives become predominant, when people think they're accurate and realistic depictions of trauma, when the truth of trauma is unpleasant and uncomfortable, and doesn't fit any single narrative, let alone one of comforting catharsis

[blorbocollection]

them...

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena, you’re coming with us.”

She looked up sharply as Alex stormed into her office, followed by a dozen DEO goons and a flustered, apologetic Jess as she flipped rapidly between apologizing to Lena for permitting the intrusion and shouting at Alex to get out, only to be ignored.

“Jess, it’s fine,” Lena said, calmly, though her heart was racing. “I’ll hear what they have to say.”

“Cover the entrances,” Alex told her men.

Even when balaclavas over their faces and goggles, Lena could sense their unease. The one who was unmasked -Lena vaguely remembered she was named Vazquez- gave Alex a plaintive, pained look before stepping out. The doors hissed shut behind them, and Alex was alone with her.

“We don’t have time for you to be argumentative.”

“What horrific crime did I commit this time?

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m taking you into protective custody.”

Lena put down her phone.

“What?”

Alex produced a tablet from the bag on her thigh and stormed over, hitting play on a video.

It was Lex. Lena’s stomach dropped.

“Hello, Director Danvers,” said Lex. “I hope this message finds you well, because none of you are going to be well much longer.”

A thought hit Lena like a freight train: If I’m in danger, where’s Kara? Even now Kara would drop everything, risk everything, to keep her from harm.

Lex opened a velvet box and drew out a small device. Lena recognized it and felt her gorge rising. It was another disperser, but something was wrong. The crystal within glowed a deep, scintillating red, like a hot coal drawn from a fire.

“Remember this?” said Lex. “You and the rest of this world are about to learn what happens when you trust an alien.”

“What the fuck?” Lena blurted. “He can’t be alive.”

Alex shook her head.

Lex slammed his fist down, and Alex turned it off.

“Well worry about your brother later. He spread red kryptonite into the atmosphere. We can’t find Kara and she’s not responding to our hails. We have to take anyone she might come after into secure custody where she can’t sense you and we have to go now.”

“But…”

“This shit drives her insane,” Alex snapped, seizing Lena’s shoulders. “The last time she was exposed she threw Cat Grant off a building. She almost killed me. ME, Lena.”

A cold flush ran down her limbs, as if she’d been thrown into the cold sea, and panic surged from deep down inside. The last time Lena had seen Kara it had been through Kryptonite-frosted crystal before she abandoned her in the fortress of solitude.

“Part of me wants to leave you here and let you get what you deserve,” Alex said, coldly, “but we are going to fix her and when we do she’d never forgive me for letting you get hurt. Even now she won’t let go of her feelings for you. She keeps talking about saving you.”

Lena swallowed hard. “Her what?”

“Lena, get up. For once in your life just cooperate and do what you’re fucking told before…”

Boot heels thudded on the balcony and dread could tight in Lena’s gut. It was a futile gesture but she stood anyway as Alex stepped between them.

The door was locked, but Kara didn’t care. She threw the door open, sending the lock mechanism flying across the room and cracking the bomb-proof glass on the process. Alex pulled her alien pistol and aimed it at Kara’s head.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Kara. I won’t let you do something you regret.”

Kara stared at her with bloodshot eyes, the ocean blue irises turned a bruise purple as red flashes danced across the whites, like the setting sun chasing across frosted snow. She moved with a languid, inhuman grace, at once casual and as menacing as a predator stalking prey that had no means of escape.

“Hello, Lena.”

“Kara,” Alex warned. “I know you’re in there. Come back with me.”

Kara ignored her, sweeping her aside with an outstretched arm. Alex went flying, crashing into the doors with a grunt, rolling to the ground unmoving.

“Kara,” Lena said calmly, backing away. “You hurt Alex.”

“I know.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Kara smiled at her, but there was none of her usual joy, her usual mirth, only a cold, vicious baring of teeth. Lena thumped against her bookcase and a model of the HMS victory that Lex gave her after he finished it toppled from the self.

Kara caught it and returned it to its place. She thrust her hands out, bracketing Lena as she leaned in, trapping her. Lena’s heart was pounding.

“You’re scared,” Kara said, “I can taste it in your pheromones. Did you know I can do that? I can sense your skin’s electrical impedance and see the heat bloom in your flesh and hear your heartbeat. If I focus very very hard I can hear brainwaves.”

“I didn’t know that,” Lena said, shocked at the smooth calm in her own voice.

“I knew it was a lie the whole time. I knew it was a lie from the night at the Pullitzer gala, when you really started loathing me.”

“Then why did you-“

“I didn’t want it to be a lie!” Kara snapped, jolting Lena as she pressed into the bookcase. “I wanted it to be real. I wanted finally be free of the pain of hiding myself from you.”

Behind them, Alex groaned as she sat up, staring at them with a thin trickle of blood running from her nose.

“Kara,” Lena said, very softly. “I can see that you’re sick . Let me help you. I can purge the red Kryptonite from your system in my lab.”

“Why would I want to purge it?”

“You hurt Alex. You love Alex.”

“Do I?”

“Yes,” said Lena. “You’re good, Kara. You’re so good. You’re the kindest, most merciful-“

“I’m tired of being kind!” Kara shouted, stinging her ears. “I’m tired of being nice. I’m tired of taking bullets for people! Just because they don’t inure me doesn’t mean they don’t hurt!”

“I didn’t know that either,” Lena whispered. “I thought…”

“You thought nothing hurts me,” Kara said, leaning in close, so close her breath tickled Lena’s lips. “But you hurt me. You hurt more than anything. More than your brother, more than Reign, more than the clone. Dying don’t hurt as much as you hurt me.”

Lena spared Alex a glance. She was lying against the doors, holding her belly. She met Lena’s gaze levelly and Lena knew in an instant the danger she was in and the terrible truth.

She was the only one who could stop Kara.

“I know,” said Lena. “I know I did and it felt good when I was doing it.”

“Lena!” Alex gasped, “are you fucking crazy?”

“It felt good,” Lena said, trying to force the trembling out of her voice and failing. “It felt so good to lash out. I wanted to hurt someone. I want to hurt everyone. I wanted everyone to feel what I’m feeling. Especially you. I bet it felt a lot like what you’re feeling now.”

Kara’s eyes were wild with fury, moments from kindling the red-sun fire that would wipe Lena from existence.

“I never stopped believing in you,” said Kara. “I’m the only reason you’re not in a cell beneath a secret desert compound. All this time I’ve defended you and believed in you and protected you.”

“All this time?” Lena snapped back, fury kindling behind the terror, chasing it back as a fire’s light chases the dark.

She was Lena Luthor. She wasn’t going to die afraid.

“You mean all this time when you accused me of conspiring against you? When you suddenly turned cold to me after telling me how you believed in me? When you made my boyfriend spy on me and destroyed my relationship?”

Lena’s hands released the shelves she’d been strangling in twin death grips.

“I… I…”

“How was I supposed to react to learning that you were both people? After what you did? You should punish me, Kara. I’m a murderer.”

Alex gasped, eyes darting from Kara to Lena.

“I killed my brother for you,” Lena said, very softly. “I killed him because I had to. Because you never would. I’m not a hero like you. I’d do it again. I’d do it all again for you. Now I find out he’s still alive. I may have to. I will. I’ll make sure he’s dead this time!”

Kara blinked, her eyes steaming from the heat inside her as tears ran down her cheeks.

“It hurts,” Kara whispered. “It hurts seeing the truth. It hurts to know what I did.”

“I know how much it hurts,” Lean said, bringing her hands to cup Kara’s face lightly. She was shaking, feverish, her skin almost uncomfortably hot. Lena felt a touch of rising panic and forced it down.

“It hurts knowing that I broke up you and James on purpose. It hurts knowing why. It hurts that even now I can’t say it, I’m too scared.”

“I’m supposed to want you and not him,” Lena said.

Kara jerked back slightly, her eyes going wide. It was an admission without words, a confession to a crime she’d already admitted. She pressed her eyes shut and the tears flowed anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” said Lena. “It hurts, doesn’t it? The anger.”

“Yes,” said Kara. “It burns. It’s burning me up. I can feel it in my chest, like it’s turning my ribs to cinders.”

Lena nodded. “I came back for you.”

“What?”

“I came back for you. I went back to the Fortress. I was as going to let you out, accept the consequences of what I’d done, but Alex must have already found you.”

“She did.”

“She always takes care of you, doesn’t she?”

Kara blinked. “Yes.”

“It hurt the most then,” said Lena, “knowing that I’d made my choice and I couldn’t take it back. I planned it all for months. I lost myself in how good it would feel to make you suffer like I’m suffering. Then when I did it there was nothing. No joy. No catharsis. I just felt hollow.”

Lena sighed. “I fucked up. I ruined my life.”

She flinched as Kara’s too-warm hand brushed her cheek, her thumb grazing lightly over her chin.

“I would forgive you any trespass. I would never hurt you,” she said, even as she trembled with rage.

“I know,” said Lena.

“Part of me wants to.”

“I know. Kara, let me help you. Please. You’re sick.”

Kara looked at her and Lena wondered what was going through her head. Did she think it was all a manipulation, a ploy? Would she lose it and snap Lena’s neck, or whip her head with a burst of heat vision and burn them all?

“Okay,” Kara breathed.

Lena reached over and pulled the book on her shelf that opened with direct elevator to her private lab. It was a touch melodramatic, but hell, it was he office.

She gave Alex a glance, waiting for the nod before she stepped inside with Lena.

They rode down in silence. Kara fell back on Lena’s exam table and closed her eyes as Lena placed the device on Kara’s chest. The House of El rune on the machine glowed as it recalibrated itself and began purging the radiation from her system.

Lena knew it was working when Kara began to weep, her face twisting in a grimace of towering grief. When it was done, Lena carefully removed the device and brushed loose strands of hair from Kara’s eyes and gently wrapped her arms around her. Kara buried her face in Lena’s neck and sobbed, shaking the table with the fury of her sorrow.

“I didn’t mean it,” she whimpered.

“I know,” Lena whispered, smoothing a hand over her head. “I know.”

“Is Alex…”

“She’ll be fine, her people have already taken her to the L-Corp infirmary. She’s fine.”

Kara’s voice was almost childlike. “Did I hurt you?”

Lena closed her eyes. “Yeah. You hurt me. It’s okay, darling. It’s going to be okay.”

Kara’s arms looped around her, tentatively. When Lena didn’t push her back, Kara relaxed into the hug.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Shhh, I know. I know. I’m sorry too. I forgive you.”

“You can’t,” Kara whimpered. “You can’t just do that.”

“Yes I can. I’m so rich I can do whatever I want. Here.”

Without letting Kara go, she reached over and took Myriad, placing it in Kara’s hands.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lena whispered, as Kara hugged her tighter.

[ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously]

Part 2. This time its the Tokyo Five (As I named them) Headcanons in the reblog tags appreciated

[hinamie]

clingy

[spookys]

how was your exam? it was good!

[foxylovey]

This appeared to me in a vision last night I needed to draw it

[karamell-sweetz]

more flop friends anyone?

[caccry]

Old Friends, Not Forgotten

[theloveinc]

Togame Jo’s greeting kisses to you are always way too long.

The kind of affection that’s usually savored in private, instead displayed wherever, whenever, and every single time you see each other—he always takes two to three minutes just to kiss you hello, abandoning the task at hand (dozing off, attending to Choji, managing the Shishitoren) to mosey your way and pull your lips to his in something just a little too sloppy to be sweet, but a little too sweet to be… too distasteful.

Everyone’s used to it by now, even Sakura, knowing that when you arrive, there’s always a going to be a pause in action just for the sappy display of Togame drooping over you and announcing you to the crowd physically.

(What’s not readily exposed, however, and especially not in a room full of men, is that it’s not just a kiss Togame’s giving you, not just a hello that he hides behind his long bangs and your cheeks between his warm hands, but the kindest stare and sweetest little whisper, “missed you, baby,” as he wraps you up in his arms.)