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shitouttabuck · 10 hours

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"picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face" for bucktommy or buddie? 👀

everything’s growing in our garden

buck/eddie | 2k | read on ao3

It’s a Saturday afternoon and Eddie is muddy-kneed and sweaty in his backyard, grass stains all down his jeans and freshly-dug dirt clinging to multiple senses—gritty between his fingers, scent mellow and earthy, in through his nose and settling soft on the back of his tongue.

The fact that it’s a Saturday afternoon on his day off is only relevant when presented with the combination of factors that find him alone in his garden today. First, he’s a dad to a teenager who has much less embarrassing things to do than hang out with his father on a weekend. Second, his two closest friends are dating each other. Third, Eddie’s not dating anybody.

So here he is, carefully planting winter squashes in the stretch of soil he’s just worked, because this is a new phase of life for him and things are changing for the different. They’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, he just doesn’t want to—get left behind. Stagnate. Hence, gardening. Maybe a little on the nose in terms of growth metaphors, but hey, he’s doing it, and that’s what counts. He thinks.

He spent a few weeks struggling to put a name to the new anxiety, or anxiety-adjacent twist in his stomach that made itself known after Buck came out to him. Not that night—that night was surprise and joy and this almost debilitating tidal wave of love he tried to wrap Buck up in when he strode across the loft into that hug.

But the next day, when Buck texted him that Tommy agreed to meet for coffee and talk? Something uncomfortable wrapped itself around Eddie’s insides, a python-grip of pressure, and it’s only gotten tighter since.

He entertained the idea that this time around maybe it was him who was jealous, his friend and his best friend dating each other and having less time for him. Except that’s not anywhere close to true—sure, his Saturday afternoons are a little emptier, but neither Buck nor Tommy have lessened the time they spend with Eddie on the whole. There’s still Muay Thai and basketball, there’s still homemade dinners and beers and movies on the couch. There’s nothing to be jealous of—he still has them both in the same capacity he always has.

Which is when he plucked at whatever tendril of envy had him in knots, following it back to the root. Watching Buck blush like a teenager in the face of Tommy’s earnest smooth-talking. Tommy absently reaching for Buck’s hand and intertwining their fingers when he drops by the station while they’re on shift. The way Buck seems to unconsciously sway into Tommy’s orbit, like a Great Dane who’s forgotten they’re too big for lap-sitting.

Maybe the thing Eddie was envious of, then, is less the replacement of a friend and more the lack of any of this, any of the easy affection, in his own relationship. Marisol was nice, kind, fine, but Eddie—he doesn’t regret ending things because he so badly wants to believe in more than fine for himself.

Marisol had looked almost relieved that she didn’t have to pull the ripcord on their relationship herself, confirming Eddie’s inkling that there was pretty much no coming back after he asked her to move out not one day post-moving-in. It’s a memory that’s going to make him wince for several years at least.

He ended up naming the ache, yanking off the mask like a Scooby-Doo villain reveal to look it in the eye. Oh, he’d thought, smoothing away a smear of soot on Buck’s nose, realisation just late enough that his hands remained steady in their obliviousness. This is the easy affection, isn’t it.

Buck’s nose crinkled with amusement and the knot in Eddie’s stomach loosened for half a second before coiling tight again, uncaring of his revelation. And, he supposes, that’s fair, because it’s not like this knowledge changes anything. Eddie can’t believe in the Universe because that’s a quick jaunt to feeling personally victimised by all of it, this singularly unbearable tragedy of timing in particular.

He's not surprised it took Buck to make him realise he’s—not straight. He hasn’t even let himself think about it, not really. The fact that it’s Buck is enough to anchor him from the alarm of a sexuality crisis. Nothing about loving Buck could ever be that scary. Still, the rest of it remains only in the recesses of his mind. He’s—on his way. He just doesn’t think he can struggle through a—a complete identity overhaul at the same time he’s struggling to make his peace with the fact that Tommy makes Buck really happy, and Eddie can’t ever be someone who puts that at risk. That Eddie’s lost Buck before he even realised he wanted him this much at all.

So. Things are changing, things are different, and Eddie has to keep moving. He still has Buck and Tommy in the same capacity he always has. He just has to come to terms with wanting more and not being able to ask for it. Letting yourself want is a slippery slope, because believing you can want and believing you can have are two different things. He’s allowed to want, but he’s not allowed to have. For now, he digs his hands into the soil, deliberate and reaching. In four months, he’ll have winter squashes. Buck will teach him that delicious soup recipe they tried last year. Eddie won’t be stuck in this moment forever.

The backdoor squeaks something awful when Buck slides it open jerkily. Eddie looks up, surprised.

“Hey,” he says, scratching at his nose. “What’re you doing here? Thought you had a lunch date.”

“I did,” Buck nods, flopping himself down on the lawn beside Eddie. “Finished early. I texted you, but I guess your phone’s inside.” He eyes Eddie’s dirt-streaked hands. “Thought I’d come see what you’re up to anyway.”

“Gardening,” Eddie tells him helpfully, and he grins.

“And here I thought you were just playing in the mud.”

Eddie flicks the dirt on his hands at Buck. He just beams up at Eddie, afternoon sun washing him the kind of golden that makes Eddie’s breath catch a little.

“What’re you planting?”

“Squash,” Eddie says, shaking the brightly coloured packet of seeds at him. “How’s Tommy?”

Buck blinks at him. “You saw him, like, two days ago.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie says, sinking his hands into the raked soil for something to do. “Like—how’s dating him going?”

“Oh,” Buck says, brow scrunching for the barest second before he nods. “Good. It’s—I really like him.”

“Good,” Eddie breathes, gut-snake squeezing and squeezing inside him.

They’re quiet for a minute, bird song and breeze winding around them, and then Buck asks, “Do you, uh. Do you talk to Tommy about me, too?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, studying the dirt before him.

“Like. Do you ask Tommy how things are going with dating me?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “No. No, I don’t. Why?”

Buck shrugs, picking at stalks of grass. “Why not? We’re both your friends.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Buck sits up.

Eddie tips some more seeds into his palm before depositing them into the next hole. “No, it’s not. Buck, you—obviously it’s different.”

“But why?” Buck presses. “I know your friendship is, like, foundationed on macho men stereotypes, but c’mon. Neither of you are capable of not, I don’t know, talking about more sensitive stuff, I guess.”

Eddie sighs at the dirt.

“Why is it different?”

“It’s different ’cause it’s you,” Eddie says. He doesn’t need to look at Buck to know he’s slow-blinking in confusion.

“W-why? You don’t think you have to put up some kind of front—with Tommy?”

“Why is this bothering you so much? Do you want me to be talking to Tommy about you?”

He finally looks at Buck, his life-ruiningly pink mouth ajar in surprise.

“N-no. Just—I don’t know.”

He’s wearing the same hang-dog expression he had been when he’d bodied Eddie at the pick-up game, half-surprise, half-misery. Eddie sighs again.

“Are you—are you worrying about something between the two of you? Because I don’t have to be in the middle of it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me. That doesn’t mean I’m not on your side.”

“There’s no sides,” Buck shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make you pick anyway.”

Eddie groans and shoves Buck back down, flat on his back with big muddy handprints on his crisp blue shirt. “I’m always on your side, you idiot. Tommy’s great, but I’ve known the guy… what, two months? You’ve been my—for six years. You’ve been—it’s different.”

“Oh,” Buck grins, bright and broad, “is that why it’s different?”

Eddie ignores him. “Is there something going on, though? Did something happen?”

“No,” Buck shakes his head, sobering a little. “Not really. I really like him, I just—I don’t know if there’s… a future, you know? We’re both having fun, but I-I just don’t know how to have that conversation with him yet. Or… if he’s on the same page and it’s all okay.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. He turns the trowel over in his hands. “How come—what makes you think there’s no future with him?”

“There could be,” Buck amends. “I just—there could be something else.” He glances at Eddie and hurriedly adds, “I think there’s already… I think… you know?”

“No,” Eddie says truthfully. “But you know, which is all that matters.”

Buck exhales softly. “Right. I’m just—I think I know what it’s supposed to look like. And Tommy is fucking—wonderful. I just—he’s not what my ending looks like.”

He looks up, meeting Eddie’s eyes, and there’s something in there just as vulnerable as the night he quietly told Eddie it was a date. Eddie doesn’t know how to translate it, bowled over by the wave of frustration at not being fluent in every one of Buck’s languages.

Except—he might still be, because all that’s there is this—expectation, a weighty, desperate hope for understanding. Like Buck’s waiting. And behind that, the steadiness of the safest place Eddie’s ever known.

“It’s different for me, with you and Tommy,” Eddie begins, “because it’s you. I can—I can listen to you talk about dating other people because—I know that, I’m used to that. But—listening to Tommy talk about what it’s like dating you? When I’m just—too late—”

He doesn’t know if he cuts himself off or if he’s interrupted by Buck’s ragged inhale. Either way, he’s silent, filling up the next little hole with soil.

“Eddie—”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Eddie mumbles. “I can’t—Buck—”

Buck sits back up and grabs him by his shoulders, turning him so they’re face-to-face. “Eddie.”

“I can’t,” Eddie says again, voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m—I haven’t even begun unpacking it, Buck.”

“Okay,” Buck nods. “Okay. I’m not asking for anything. Just—do you mean it? That’s all I need from you. Tell me if you mean it, Eddie, please—” His chest is heaving like he’s run ten blocks and not just been sprawled on Eddie’s lawn in the afternoon sun.

And the thing is, Buck asks for so little. He thinks he does the opposite, but everyone who’s ever loved Buck knows: Buck asks for so little. And he deserves the entire fucking world. So Eddie can spare one terrifying truth.

“There could be something else,” he echoes Buck’s earlier words. “And it’s—it’s already… it could be a really good fucking ending. I’m… I need some time to… but I think it could the right ending. For us.”

Buck swallows audibly, eyes bright when he ducks his head and nods. “S’much time as you need.”

Something in Eddie relaxes, stops constricting, takes a deep, gulping breath. He blinks quickly to stave off whatever emotion this is, sinking his hands into the last mound of dirt.

“They’ll be ready by September,” he tells Buck, a little thickly.

“September,” Buck nods. “Good month. Summer end. We can make soup.”

Eddie turns to him. “Not too long away?”

“Nah,” Buck says, hand coming up to cup Eddie’s face. Eddie freezes, but Buck’s just using the pad of his thumb to oh-so-gently brush away a smudge of dirt on Eddie’s cheek. He keeps holding Eddie’s face for a moment more before dropping his hand, shifting to examine Eddie’s neatly planted rows of squash seeds. “Besides. They’re, uh. Worth waiting for.”

“I hope so,” Eddie says softly.

Buck nudges his shoulder against Eddie’s, companionable and cross-legged beside each other in the grass. “I know so.”

#this is. i dont know!#911 #buddie #911 fic #buddie fic #nina writes

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painandhatred · 1 day

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Punishment

He could feel their hand tighten around his throat and the feeling was suffocating. Barely having enough recognition to grab their hand and give a poor attempt to push the hand away. The way his teeth were gritting against each other to the small amount of air he breathes, he can feel it all. In the end, he wouldn't dare lift a sword against the individual standing before him and he knows that neither would his ninjas even if he called for help.

At the sound of footsteps coming closer to the room, his neck felt released from the tight grip it had around it. The individual moved away from him quickly and sat down on the other side of a table. His hand instinctively messaging his throat as he moved from his place on the floor, coughed a little bit.

“I've prepared your dishes, your grace. As well as your tea, my lord.” Thoma's voice rang before he opened up the sliding door to see the individuals on the other side. Bringing in the tray with him, he sat down at the left side of the creator. It was quiet while Thoma served the food and tea, a little humming tune coming from his mouth. Just as he was finishing up and prepared to leave, he heard Ayato’s voice, “sit, Thoma. I believe that it would be in our best interest that you stay and enjoy tea with us.”

“Oh, I couldn't try to impose on you two.” Came Thoma’s reply, but before he would leave, he felt the creator grab onto his sleeve. They only uttered one word while looking away from Thoma’s confused gaze, “stay.”

“Of course, you grace.” He said with his bright smile that made the creator flustered and leaving Ayato more like the third wheel than anything. Seeing the creator pass their cup of tea for Thoma's to enjoy, he knows why he is alive at all. Then again he probably should have realized this the moment the creator said yes to the invitation for some tea. Especially after everything the Yashiro Commission has done on his orders.

He was too scared to let go of the fact that he was the imposter's favorite, he was blind to see that the real creator was his prisoner. He saw the love in the imposter's eyes and he was addicted to it all. Only Thoma had figured it out, due to the strong connection he had with the creator, the only vessel that the creator used at all in the Kamisato household. Thoma helped others to see the creator for who they really are, how the imposter tried to silence him.

Ayato released a sigh as he watched the scene before him, with the creator laughing at a story Thoma was telling them. He deserves this punishment, even if his housekeeper was trying to convince him otherwise just the other day. He can see it in the cold unforgiving eyes of the creator when they were alone together.

He can hear Thoma’s words from yesterday as they gave him hope. “My lord, this is your chance to get off on the right foot with them!” That maybe, just maybe the creator and him could start off on a new foot. Seeing there was no point in doing so, he stood up and excused himself, “forgive me, your grace. I must take my leave. I have plenty of work to be done.”

“Ah, my lord, shall I-”

“No, Thoma. That won't be necessary. Please entertain our esteemed guest, I do believe they love your tales about the stray animals you take care of.” He wanted to leave the moment he felt the eyes watching him, but he knew the only reason he was alive. Shouldn't leave the room just yet.

As he bowed and left the room, he knew the message in those eyes.The creator doesn't want Thoma sad, so he will get to breathe.

And every breath is due to his housekeeper.

Both for him and his sister.

#genshin impact #sagau #nihil.writes <3 #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #sagau cult au #x reader #sagau x reader #kamisato ayato #thoma x reader #angst

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 2 days

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Nancy wandered into Max's hospital room after everyone was unexpectedly kicked out. Max was lying in the bed, her head bent as she cried. Maybe she shouldn't. . .maybe she should give her the space she said she wanted. She couldn't leave her alone to cry, though. She sat carefully in the chair next to Max and took her hand. Max jumped.

"Who's there?" Max asked, her eyes trying to look around the room.

"It's Nancy," she said softly.

"I said that I wanted to be left alone," Max said.

"I know. I was never really good at doing what people told me to do, though," Nancy said, smiling when Max laughed.

"Me neither," she said softly.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you if you need to talk," Nancy said.

"I'm just - I'm really bad at letting people in," Max said.

"I'm the same way," Nancy said. "When things get rough, I tend to push away the people who matter the most. . .especially when they just fall apart, and then you just let them."

"I want to let people in, I really do," Max said softly.

"Yeah, me too," Nancy said.

"I don't know where to start. Every time I think about it, it's like I can't breathe," Max said.

"I think for me, my biggest fear is that my pain will somehow hurt them more than if I just let them go. In some weird way, it's my way of protecting them," Nancy said.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Max said.

"Somehow, in the back of my mind, I tend to think it's better if I do this alone, but we live in a world dependent on people and as much as we try to admit that we don't want help or think we don't need help there's always this part of us trying to reach out for the people we care about the most. We keep trying to push it away or stamp it out because there's people in our lives who tell us we don't need them, that we don't fit. Like my mom said to me once, 'People are always saying you can't. That you shouldn't. That you're not smart enough. Not good enough. This world, it beats you up. Again and again. Until eventually. . .most people, they just stop trying.' I think when you start to believe that, it starts to come true. I think the hardest thing for people to say is that they can't do this alone. I think it takes a lot of strength to say that you can't or don't want to do it alone. Max, you're the strongest person I know, I think you can do it. No, I know you can do it," Nancy said.

"In the junkyard," Max said, sniffling. "When Steve moved me out of the way to protect me from the demogorgon, and stood in front of us holding up the bat. . .no one's ever done that before. Not Billy, not Neil, not even my mom. . .it's the first time I felt like I could do it myself. I looked at Steve and thought that this was what a brother's supposed to be. He's supposed to protect you, not hurt you, and when I saw Billy hurting Steve, I had to stop him. For a long time, I just wanted Billy and Neil to stop hurting us. When Billy died, I thought it was my fault, so I pushed Lucas and everyone away because I thought I was protecting them."

"It's not your fault, Max. What happened to Billy. He had many chances to do the right thing by you, to be the brother you needed. He failed you, Max, and you wishing for him to stop hurting you doesn't make you a bad person. You didn't wish him to die, did you?" Nancy asked.

"I just wanted it to stop," Max said.

"He waited until it was too late, and because of what Dr. Brenner did. . .because of the Russians. . . He died without really making it up to you. All these things that happened to you aren't your fault. The blame lies on other people. I know what it's like to feel guilty about the things that are out of your control. I know what it's like to deal with trauma that no one's ever dealt with before. How do you deal with real flesh and blood monsters? We have no guidebook for this, only each other. When you're ready, we're here for you," Nancy said.

"I'm scared, Nancy," Max sobbed. "I don't know if I can handle being blind. I won't ever see my mom's face or the sun again. I won't ever see the ocean or Lucas's face. I'll never see him play basketball. I should have gone to his game. Why didn't I just go to his game? Because I was scared? What kind of excuse is that?"

"A really good one," Nancy said softly. "Sometimes, the best way you can let people know you care about them is to let them take care of you."

"He's good at that, Lucas. He read to me, I heard him," Max said. "I heard his voice. . ."

"Steve’s good at taking care of people too," Nancy said, mentioned casually.

"Except he pretends as if he doesn't like it like he's a goddamn cat," Max said, and Nancy laughed.

"He is a cat, but then I think so are you," Nancy said.

"Lucas is more like a golden retriever," Max said. "Which is weird because I'm not a very affectionate person."

"I'm not really either, but there are other ways to show people you care about. One of them is, like I said earlier," Nancy said. "And it's in the little million different ways that I think only you can discover along the way. And if it's someone who's willing to do the same, even better. . .How do you want to show Lucas you care?"

Max grinned so suddenly, it startled Nancy.

"I want to see him play basketball," Max said.

"Max. . ."

"Will's a good dungeon master, right?" She asked Nancy.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think he would be willing to transfer those skills into telling me what's going on when Lucas is playing?" Max asked.

"I think he would be willing to do anything to help in any way that he can," Nancy said with a grin of her own. "That's a good idea, Max."

Max beamed, suddenly looking more comfortable in her hospital bed.

"I want to make it work this time with Lucas," Max said. "No more pushing him a way or El or anyone else."

"I think Robin's hoping for that too. She said something about 'two flames that never should have been burned out,' so she's rooting for you and Lucas," Nancy said.

"Was she saying that about us or about you and Steve?" Max asked slyly.

"It can be both," Nancy said.

"Well, she's smart, so maybe she knows what she's talking about," Max smirked. "Does Steve have anything to do with you breaking up with Jonathan?"

"No, well, a little bit. It's been a long time coming. We've had problems before, but I think an important part of wanting to be in a relationship with someone is wanting to be with them. We didn't want to see each other, and it's not because we didn't love each other. It's just that love wasn't enough anymore. Suddenly, it wasn't Jonathan who I could see in my dream anymore," Nancy said. "He wasn't who I wanted anymore, and I wasn't who he wanted, but that doesn't mean he's not going to be in my life. We were both relieved when we ended things."

"Are you sad?" Max asked.

"A little, but I think that happens when you close a chapter of your life," Nancy said. "But then a new chapter starts. . .a new day begins and the sun rises. . . I'm looking forward to being friends with Jonathan."

They sat in silence for a while as Max let Nancy stroke her knuckles.

"Thank you, Nancy," Max said and paused. "You're too stubborn for your own good, you know?"

"I've been told," Nancy laughed.

"I didn't really feel like I would ever have a family again until I came here to Hawkins. You and the others. . .especially Steve and Robin. . .have been the best older siblings that I could have asked for. I don't think. . .I don't want to do this alone," Max said.

"We're here," Nancy said softly and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"Can you send Lucas in?" Max asked.

"Yeah," Nancy said.

She walked out into the parking lot where everyone was loitering around. Lucas was talking to Will and Mike when she approached. She touched his shoulder, trying to ignore the nostalgia and the realization that he had grown so much. They all had.

"Hey, Nancy," Lucas said with a smile.

"Max wants to see you," Nancy said.

"Is that a good thing?" Lucas asked. "I mean, is she okay?"

"Yeah, and it's a very good thing," she grinned and hugged him. "Good luck."

"Thanks!" Lucas exclaimed and ran off towards the hospital.

She found Steve’s car parked a few feet away. Robin and Dustin were leaning against the trunk while Steve argued with them about something. That was something Nancy noticed Steve did. He would start a trivial argument in order to get other people's minds off other things, especially when they worried too much and they couldn't do anything about it. He knew how much Dustin was worried about Max. Steve was so much smarter than he ever let on. His back was to her. Robin and Dustin's eyes looked at her curiously as she approached. She didn't care. Nancy placed her hands on Steve’s hips and turned him around.

"Nancy?" He asked.

"I love you," Nancy said.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. He froze for a moment, and she was about to pull back when he returned the kiss. He wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her weight, as she moved her arms around his neck. Nancy smiled against his lips, enjoying the familiar way they fit against hers. They smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

"Hi," Steve said, his cheeks red.

"Hi," Nancy said.

He stared at her in amazement, and she looked at him expectantly.

"Oh, yeah, I love you too!" Steve exclaimed.

Robin and Dustin let out a squeal. They turned to find them both clinging to each other, jumping up and down in excitement.

"I can't believe Dustin had doubts!" Robin exclaimed.

"I didn't have doubts. You had doubts," Dustin accused.

"Harrington! Did you seriously just make out with Nancy in front of me?!" Jonathan yelled from across the parking lot.

"Oh, shit!" Dustin exclaimed.

"She kissed me!" Steve squeaked, and Jonathan laughed.

"Oh, man, your face! Sorry, man, I was messing with you. Nancy and I broke up. I'm dating someone else," Jonathan said, grinning. "We're good."

Everyone in the parking lot laughed and Steve sighed.

"I'm going to kill him," Steve muttered.

"The look on your face was pretty funny," Nancy giggled.

Steve smirked and began ticking her sides. She laughed and slapped his chest.

"Oh, yeah, you think so?" Steve asked.

Nancy laughed and shook her head. Steve stopped and hugged her tightly. She let him for a moment, letting him savor her touch while she did the same before pulling away. She laughed when he went over to gush about it with Robin. Suddenly, Lucas came running out of the hospital with a grin on his face. He ran over to Will.

"Are you okay?" Will asked.

"Better than okay! We're officially back together. She said she loves me and we kissed," Lucas said.

"That's great!" Will exclaimed.

"I was wondering if you would be able to help Max with something," Lucas said.

Nancy smiled. These kids were more than friends. They were family. They all were. Whether romantically or platonically, they were all willing to help each other through the bad times, no matter how big or small. The part of her that wanted to do everything on her own was no longer screaming at her. Even without monsters from other dimensions, it was difficult to navigate this world on your own. Nancy wouldn't go anywhere without one of her guns, just like Steve wouldn't go anywhere without his bat, nor would they go anywhere without knowing that they always had their family to fall back on.

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devine-fem · 5 hours

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As someone who likes Damijon as both platonic and romantic…I don’t understand the obsession of certain antis bring up whole age gap thing when it comes to Damian and Jon. It’s getting really old and pissing me off at this point.

I can’t recall a fandom I’ve been in where antis kept bringing up an age gap between two characters.

Idk if I’m talking out of my ass but it sounds like as if antis think the fandom puts Damijon in sexual situations 24/7 when that’s not the case.

Jfc no one is forcing you to ship them if you don’t (it’s not even canon!) but don’t go around accusing the fandom as p*d*s just to make a point. ( I know in fandoms there some weirdos too but it doesn’t make up a whole)

Let the Damijon fandom enjoy whatever crumbles they are getting right now…because it’s really just crumbles at this point.

If those antis also consist of those who are our rival ships (they know who they are) like yall are getting canon content rn from DC if you’re upset with the quality of it speak with your wallet idk…???

Sorry for the rant it’s just for the most part Damijon fandom has been pretty chill (excluding Twitter that’s another can of worms) and I hate the accusations parts of the fandom love to make.

Yeah… people don’t talk about how Jon had to be 11 to Damian’s 13 before he left for space because they only read super sons, they never really look at any other source or think about their ages as more than that because tom taylor said out his mouth that they were 3 years apart when dissing the ship BUT he admits himself to not know their exact ages and that it could be a 2 year age gap.

So I just think of it as two years, and with two years I don’t really care because personally even in my youth I’ve been with people who are two years older with no issue because age alone doesn’t determine whether or not someone is taking advantage of you for obvious reasons. Age gaps are not tangible things, to some people what you consider weird is normal to someone else.

Then there’s the fact that neither Jon or Damian have birthdays. Damian was aged up for teen titans which people don’t seem to care about. Among other things like how Jon and Damian are the same age in most other universes… did you know that? Also, people like to say theres a maturity gap but forget that Damian was the immature one that picked fights. Plus, when characters grow up beside each other then it’s less ‘weird’ cause then they are expierencing similar traumas. It’s probably lots smaller then we think.

When I talk about them with a three year age gap then its probably platonic but sometimes romantic, two years then its platonic or romantic, one year, platonic or romantic and I say between these because their age can slightly change their dynamic. It’s for fun, its exploring their dynamic if it had elements of romance to it. Its interchangeable to me but for the most parts its two.

They are barbies that I play with at my own free will. They are not real people, they may imitate life but they do not infact replicate it.

So yeah… when they are young I only ever have really seen or interacted with media where J and D have not done more than maybe peck. Its just supposed to be cute and sweet.

Do people not under the concept of the fact Jon and Damian should not be getting into a serious relationship while they are young or else it would go horribly wrong? Do they not understand that a lot of the ships appeal in the childhood friends TO lovers factor?

It kind of bothers me to be having to put the fact that I l hate Jonjay and like Daminika in my bio so people can get a feel for the type of person I am. And “rival” ships? there’s no rivalry, I don’t feel threatened by other peoples ships at all… especially if they’re canon… unless its like jonjay where the origin of the ship is inherently problematic, substanceless and built on character assassination… but we hate damijon and praise THAT? We say that damijon is worse than that? I’m sorry but jonjay to jon kent is jayroy to roy harper to me.

Twitter is very strange, very very strange people on that app to which this morning I had to uninstall because I KNEW that they would feel threatened by damijons today and hate profusely in response to it.

Although, you guys gotta put that age gap shit to bed…

Dami look 14 here to you? If Damijons are the ones who don’t read comics then how do we know that they are well in their 20s and 30s here. They are both consenting adults in main continuity that can do as they please here. You simply cannot say anything. No arguement can be supported now because now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with it.

There was no point in hate the age gap really in the first place since time was always gonna heal it anyway???

But part of me kind of understands hating it if you experience fandom through twitter which is not a fandom app at all. Damijon stans are annoying and gross on twitter, I get it but not everyone is inherently horrible for obvious reasons.

#please read #asks #super sons #damian wayne #jon kent #supersons #jonathan kent #dc comics #superfam #batfam

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