Steve never yelled.
It was something everyone knew and no one talked about. All his anger was quiet, a rage simmering just beneath the surface.
And sure; he’d raise his voice to be heard over the cacophony of the kids he’d unwittingly adopted, but everyone agreed that wasn’t yelling. That was just making sure he was heard.
Even Eddie, as his boyfriend, had never heard him yell before. And there’s something to be said about following the leader: even when they argued, even when tensions were high, Steve never yelled. So Eddie didn’t, either.
He wished he could take back the one time he did.
Eddie was hot-tempered. He knew this. Everyone knew this. Hot-tempered and a knife-sharp tongue, cutting down to the marrow with just his words. He’d never use his fists. This is also something everyone knows.
Eddie’s animated, larger-than-life, and he continued that trend in his arguments. Hands flying out to prove a point, but never to strike.
Everyone knew why. Everyone who knew Eddie knew what happened when he was nine, when Momma died and Daddy tried to find happiness at the bottom of a bottle.
That was the summer he moved in with Wayne. Wayne was a kind soul, slow to speak and even slower to anger. He was even-tempered, which meant it took a lot to get him mad, but once he was there, he wasn’t letting go easy.
So Eddie never raised his hands. Steve never raised his voice. Steve never raised his hands, either.
Eddie wished, with everything inside of him, he hadn’t raised his voice.
Because there’s something to be said about following the leader. When Eddie yelled, Steve followed.
Eddie didn’t know what they were arguing about anymore. Something stupid, he’s sure, but all he heard was blood rushing in his ears as he argued with Steve.
Steve, unflappable Steve, unshakeable Steve, argued back. He raised his voice.
Then, suddenly, he stopped. “Shit,” he whispered, eyes wide and not completely present. “Shit- I- sorry, I- I’m-” he shook his head, started to back up, almost tripped on nothing. Caught himself on the counter. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t- didn’t mean to-”
Abruptly, everything was silent. Eddie’s blood stilled as something ugly rose up in his throat. “Steve?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m not- not him, I swear, I don’t- I didn’t-” he shook his head again.
Eddie almost cursed when he finally realized what was happening. A panic attack. “Steve,” he said, slowly, calmly. “Stevie, baby, can I touch you?”
“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered again, gasping for breath.
“No, babylove,” Eddie murmured. “My fault, isn’t it? I should’ve known. Can I touch you, Stevie?”
He nodded, lip trembling. “‘M sorry.”
“No, sweets. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, c’mere.” He tugged Steve into a hug, nudged his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, rubbed soothing hands down his back. “Breathe with me, baby, c’mon, you can do this. Come back to me.”
Steve choked on a breath. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled again, and here were the tears, here’s what Eddie had been waiting for. He knew crying would likely trigger a headache, so he made a mental list of things he’d need to prepare.
“Not your fault,” Eddie promised him again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never shoulda yelled, that’s on me.” He smoothed his hands down over Steve’s back again. “Come back to me, baby, where are you?”
Shaking hands grabbed at Eddie’s shirt, just above his hips. “Eddie.”
“That’s me,” Eddie agreed. “Take a breath for me, sweets, c’mon. In and out.” A shaky puff of air hit his neck, and he gently squeezed Steve. “That’s good. That’s so good. One more, Stevie, c’mon, just one more breath.”
Slowly but surely, Steve calmed down. He let out one last sigh and unclenched his hands, wrapping them around his boyfriend’s waist. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Eddie promised again. “You okay?”
Steve sniffed. “Think so. I, uh… didn’t know that would happen.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” He sniffed again, pressed his fingertips into the divots of Eddie’s spine. “I’ve tried, my whole life, to be anybody but my dad. He… he would yell, and I remember thinking as a little kid that… dads aren’t supposed to scare their kids.” He shrugged. “I don’t think it was ever a conscious decision, not to yell. Just a… side effect, I guess, of not being like him.”
Eddie sighed. “And here I come along and fuck it all up, huh?”
Steve shook his head. “You make everything better, Eds. Even if we argue. Because I know we’ll be okay.” He managed a huff of a laugh. “I, uh, don’t actually remember what we were arguing about anymore.”
Eddie chuckled. “Me neither, Stevie.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Steve lifted his head to kiss Eddie properly. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Eddie answered instantly. “Always.”
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Hypothetical incredibox mod 3 2 1 let's go
Avenue 13
Every single sound tells a sad story...
All the characters are either people who are out of the picture (meaning varies from person to person), abstract concepts given form, or present and expiriencing the horrors in a way
The story is about grief and losing everything to circumstance and your own acts
Fucked up! Big time! Heavily!
And some of the abstract concepts also insult the protag, like HEAVILY
I don't think i can say a lot without spoiling the story (it's so good i don't wanna reveal it all just like that even though this is only hypothetical) but it is DARK and HEAVY AS FUCK
Anyway yeah that's it okay bye have a good one
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Okay. I’ve written about people’s takes on age before. Usually in the form of rants. Now I’m seeing some things pop up regarding the characters’ ages and their appearance in the upcoming RE animated movie and I’m flailing a bit. Too tired to do it too energetically, but I hope everyone knows that the thought is there.
If I have the timeline right, the characters in the new Death Island (someone just told me the correct name) should be in their late 30s to early/mid 40s. Now, we all know that Capcom is weird with ages. They like to make characters unrealistically young for the amount of experience/rank/education they have. They do that fucking ageist shit with women where they always look young and beautiful and perky, and btw, here’s some unnecessary skin shots. (Do some fucking skin shots with Leon, you cowards.) Thus, frustrated fan responses are to be expected.
Except some of these fan responses are just... wtf, people??? I’m cool with “Let characters look their age,” but then they get specific with how they think the characters should look. “Give them wrinkles! Give them grey hair! Give them things that don’t actually match their ages!”
How old do people think that age range is? People are considered young adult until they hit thirty-five years old. Thirty-five. 35. 3. 5. After that? Adult. You’re still going through puberty until you hit 25. At 35? At the bridge between young adult and adult. You still have years to go before you hit retirement age. I promise.
This reminds me too much of that bullshit online where people get on adults (especially women) when they reach a certain age and they’re still online. Like, once you reach a certain age, you’re no longer allowed to have fun. You are no longer allowed to interact with people below that line without being considered a predator. You’re supposed to follow this normative (typically heteronormative, ironically enough) pattern of being married with kids and only dealing with “adult, boring” things. “Wait, you’re how old? Get offline, you weirdo, and do your taxes or something.”
It feels like people want to deny to the death that they’re influenced by societal ageism. They have unrealistic, often creepy expectations of how people are supposed to look and act when they hit a number which usually has a creepy parallel with Conservative purist beliefs. They get angry when they hear about the ageism in Hollywood and then say the same things but just with different wording. Isn’t that funny? How you have two, supposedly opposing sides with the same exact nasty opinion? It’s all in the language and wording. Each side has a different dictionary, and as long as they use the words appropriate for their individual sides, it doesn’t matter if the message is the same.”Ugh. You’re a woman and you’re how old and still writing fanfiction? Shouldn’t you be taking care of your kids?”
A popular argument is that these people are traumatized and of course that would age them. That further enrages me. Can trauma have a physical impact like that? Yes. But there seems to be this popular concept that trauma must have a visible impact. I’ve seen over and over again that finally Leon looks as traumatized as he actually is in the RE4 Remake. Trauma has to have a physical appearance: otherwise, is that person truly traumatized?
That’s not how it works. That’s not how it works at all. I’ve written a fic myself where Leon experiences heavy trauma and it leads to premature greying, but that was for individual fic purposes and I hope people recognize the difference, how one fic or one instance doesn’t make something automatic or universal. People can go through horrific trauma without a physical mark to show for it. No scarring, no premature wrinkles. Their hair won’t magically turn white overnight. Fuck, some people go through trauma without PTSD or lifelong issues. It is based on their history, their genetics, their role in the traumatic action, level of support, what happened before/during/after, etc. Not everyone goes through trauma and welp! Immediate PTSD and triggers and nightmares and grey hair and weeping fits. (And no, for fuck’s sake, this isn’t an insult to anyone who went through trauma and now deal with these issues: the point is that trauma and trauma response is individualized and needs to be recognized as so.)
There are an insane amount of real stories where someone commits suicide and everyone comments that they never saw it coming, that there was no indication prior. The person seemed so happy! They were always friendly! Hell, maybe they were even the group comedian! If you look at warning signs for suicide, sometimes visible depression is one of them but it is usually far more subtle things.
Trauma hits people differently, with different responses, different signs. Two people can go through the same exact thing and one comes out with PTSD and the other not. One person has nightmares and the other doesn’t. One has nightmares but no triggers, no PTSD. One can’t stand certain smells or sounds anymore but sleeps reasonably well and has a good life.
People have this thing where, if your trauma isn’t visible, if you aren’t acting appropriately, it didn’t happen or it wasn’t that bad. Raped women are often told that surely it couldn’t have been rape: they weren’t acting traumatized. One airplane crash survivor was scorned and called heartless for not being in hysterics when she was just in shock and oblivious to the fact that she was the only survivor. If you don’t show your trauma in certain ways, people dismiss you or insult you. To be accepted, you have to act traumatized. It has to show like the blood is still painting your skin. You have to have dark circles under your eyes. You must always, always visibly carry your pain and grief.
It’s exhausting to see this everywhere, but it’s even more frustrating to have supposedly “woke” people parroting these lines: if you are above a certain age you are old and you better look it; if you really went through trauma it had better show.
Fuck, too much time in the sun and too much smoking will age your skin more than trauma will. Yes, I want them to make the women look like they can legally drink, and when the time comes, I would love to see these characters with grey in their hair and wrinkles. In their 30s/early-to-mid!40s? Probably not going to see too much unless you have the genetic disposition for it.
Sincerely, someone who is in the same age range as these characters and who is sick and tired of hearing comments about her young appearance.
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