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“So why aren’t you letting me?” She responded. But interestingly enough, she didn’t try to pull herself away or create distance between her and Alan. She only asked the question, suspecting that maybe he was only saying he didn’t doubt she could handle it herself so she wouldn’t resist as much. She was used to adults doing stuff like that, specifically social workers. What she wasn’t used to was the fact that she was wrong this time.

Violet flinched in pain whenever a certain area of her arm was touched, just below her elbow. She tried to hide this though, not wanting to feel anymore like she was being coddled than she already did. Her right arm took most of the impact when she crashed her dirt bike, having completely failed at testing it after adding a speed modification she wanted to add. Sometimes she forgot she couldn’t be good at everything. Even though she was good at riding these things, she certainly wasn’t good at altering them. She was a programmer, not a mechanic. File this under careers she should never, ever try to peruse.

“Shit! Stop.. stop-“ She yelped, starting to have a difficult time hiding her pain. This sort of came out without her thinking, and instantly she regretted it, her cheeks going red and her eyes darting around. “Uhm… yeah, that doesn’t surprise me at all.” She nervously chuckled, trying to change the topic and take any attention Alan planned on putting towards her previous exclamation away.

Alan immediately stopped when Violet told him to, internally panicking about how bad this injury truly was. He'd seen bike crashes like this from Sam many times, but, admittedly, Violet may have injured herself worse than Alan was able to fix.

"That would be why I'm not letting you." He took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to assess the situation. He knew he was coddling her too much, that was always the problem. What was worse was he didn't know how to not coddle someone when panic was through the roof and he deeply cared about them.

"It's much easier to tend to wounds when you have two arms to do it. Help me out here, please, I don't want to end up accidentally hurting you more than you already are."

He'd talk to her about the bike thing later. What was important now was her arm. He'd probably call Sam to help her fix it up later.

She took a deep breath, not saying anything for a moment to give herself time to breathe. She didn’t say anything in response to his answer to her question, almost like she was silently agreeing. She’d never admit it verbally though. That was far too embarrassing. She figured he’d get the point from the fact that she was far less resistant than she would be if she didn’t agree.

After the brief silence, Violet snapped back into focus and used her good arm to push her hair away from her face before looking up at Alan. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” She asked quietly, making sure only he could hear her. She didn’t want to draw other people’s attention towards herself like she did a few seconds ago with how loud she was. If somebody she didn’t know came up to them and started asking questions, even if they were with good intentions, she might just lose it.

Alan had a million things running through his mind, but if he was becoming overwhelmed by them then Violet surely would be.

"First, I need you to tell me where it hurts most." He said, well aware that there were some people gawking at the scene. He paid them no mind for now, hoping they'd leave if ignored.

She paused again, using that moment to give anyone staring at her the death glare, something she was very good at. The moment she stared back at them, they would stop and get on with their business, satisfying her greatly. This wasn’t any of their concern. You’d think a girl who did things like this would love the attention, but only when it was the right kind of it. This was the wrong kind. The worst kind possible. People being far too interested in her fuck ups.

“It’s right there-“ She said, pointing to the area of her arm right below her elbow on the same side as her palm. Wanting to prove she was okay, Violet tried to bend her arm, but quickly squeezed her eyes shut and stopped abruptly. This seemed to be the worst of it, as everything else was just minor scratches that she had no complaints about. She had dealt with those about a thousand times, she barely even felt them at this point. “My friends are gonna kill me-“ She groaned, remembering how even they told her this was a bad idea. But she just had to see for herself.

"Hey, hey, don't move it." Alan frowned, carefully holding her arm gently by the wrist and upper arm so she didn't have to keep holding it up.

"Don't worry about your friends right now. I'm, ah, pretty sure you either broke a bone or sprained something pretty badly." He knew he was no doctor, he couldn't actually tell what she had done to herself.

"Here, I'll help you up. Why don't we call Sam for the bike, and I'll get you somewhere where you can get your arm checked out."

Violet stopped herself, putting in a little more of an effort to stay still than she was just a moment ago. Illogically, she thought that the more she tried to move her arm, the more used to the pain she felt when she did it she would get. Eventually, she’d be used to it enough to continue like normal and convince everyone she was totally fine. Deep down she knew this wasn’t the case and that she wouldn’t be able to endure it for that long. She could barely even endure it for a second when Alan was touching the area. She just really wanted to pretend like nothing happened so she didn’t have to deal with any downtime. Not that she was one to listen when people told her to rest. but it’d definitely be annoying having people constantly try for however long it’d take her to heal.

“Well, they kinda told me this was a super dumb idea..” She admitted quietly, quiet enough where she couldn’t even hear whether she was speaking coherently or not. All she could do was hope she had spoken just loud enough for Alan to hear her. Or maybe she didn’t want to be heard. It wasn’t easy to tell with her. “We also got Green Day tickets for next week. Man, this is gonna ruin it.. can’t we just go home and pretend like nothing ever happened? I won’t complain about it, I swear.”

"If you do that, you're going to end up healing wrong and having to recover longer. It's either you get it checked now and heal up nicely over the course of a couple months, or you don't and end up taking years." To put it bluntly, he added silently, carefully helping Violet to her feet. He had to stop himself from choking up when he had a sudden influx of memories.

He remembered doing this for Flynn, hearing the insufferable jokes about ruined pride. Sam did the same when he was twelve, and went silently when he was nineteen. He could remember the shame in Sam's eyes, the tears threatening to spill that never did for fear of never living it down (Alan would never ridicule Sam for crying, but he supposed Sam was too caught up with his daredevil friends to realize that Alan was kind).

He pulled out his phone to call Sam, keeping an eye on Violet in case she decided to poke and prod at her wounds like Sam did. She was much younger than Sam. He hoped that meant she had the chance to choose a life that didn't hurt her. Every day he worried about Sam's thrill seeking lifestyle. One day it would kill him. Alan would never recover from that.

For a moment she wanted to protest, confident that she could withstand whatever pain she was put through should she decide not to seek out treatment. She always had a higher pain tolerance than most, likely due to her always been on the more reckless side. But she was still human, and she still had a limit. Even she knew that deep down despite never wanting to admit it.

The idea of protesting came to a full-stop when another thought entered her head, the thought of missing out on her favorite event later in the year. It was a race near Lake Tahoe where the starting point was in California and the finish line was in Nevada, one she had been competing in since she was ten and hadn’t missed once since then. It had been her favorite since the first time she went, getting the chance to explore a new part of the state she grew up in along with getting to see another too. Of course she couldn’t forget about after the race where the adults hit casinos in the nearby city of Reno, and Violet along with the other kids would hang out at the resort all day. There was absolutely no way she was missing out on that, especially if it’d be her own fault.

“Okay… fine..” She admitted quietly, staying still once she stood up. She hoped they’d tell her she was fine and didn’t actually hurt herself that badly, but she knew that was probably wrong. The speeds she was going at and the terrain she was riding on were both pretty unforgiving, and Violet’s efforts to avoid crashing probably just made things worse considering they failed in the end. Looking down at her feet and thinking about these things almost made her want to cry, but she couldn’t let that happen.

Hesitantly, Alan set a hand on Violet's good shoulder, not wanting to risk harming her arm more somehow but still wanting to give her comfort. He offered a look of reassurance, waiting for Sam to miraculously pick up the phone.

Sam never picked up the phone before Alan recieved Flynn's page. He hoped and nearly prayed for Sam to start picking up now. After a few moments of silence, he tried not to sound overly relieved when Sam somehow did actually answer the phone.

He explained the situation about the bike, how it would need repairs. He didn't explain why just yet, saying that he'd tell the details later to spare Violet any possible humiliation she may feel. Once he had that sorted out and they said their goodbyes, he turned to look at Violet again.

"He's coming to pick up the bike. Would you rather wait here until he arrives or get your arm checked now?" He asked, since he didn't want to make her feel like he was a strict parent figure punishing her for crashing her bike. He truly cared and didn't want her to deal with any long term injuries, but the way he had to do that was to put on his stern voice and keep her stubbornness from hurting her.

While Alan was on the phone, Violet took out her own phone to distract herself while she waited for him to finish. Even if she did want to know what Sam said in response, it wasn’t like she could hear well enough to listen in on someone else’s phone conversation. Hell, she struggled with her own phone calls and half the time ended up hanging up in the middle of the call and telling whoever she was talking to to just text her instead out of frustration. So instead she decided to check her messages, hoping none of her friends wanted to talk to her right now. Her phone screen cracked more during the crash, but it really wasn’t something that bothered her. If she got it fixed she’d just break it again in seconds anyways.

Every few moments, Violet would look up from her phone and back at Alan to make sure he hadn’t switched from talking to Sam to talking to her. It was hard for her to tell when she was being spoken to when she wasn’t focusing directly on the other person. She had a tendency to miss things a lot and wanted to make sure she didn’t this time. Mostly because she was anxiously awaiting the time to get out of here and away from the other people. “Let’s just go now and get it over with-“ She sighed. The quicker this was all over the better.

"Alright.." Alan carefully led Violet out of the scene, walking with her to the nearest hospital. He half dreaded the medical bills, but knew he'd rather pay them than have Violet carry the debt.

He thought about what to talk about that might cheer her up, or at least keep her mind off of the situation. He tried thinking back to what he did for Sam, which, in hindsight, didn't work anyway.

"...So... Green Day, huh?" He hesitantly started, hoping music was a safe subject to talk about. Though he knew it was likely a bit sensitive since Violet claimed this accident would ruin the concert.

"I, ah, seem to be stuck in the 80s," stuck with Flynn's music, he added internally, "so I haven't really listened to newer music aside from what Sam listens to. What kind of music does Green Day do?"

Violet was about to explain. Actually, more like she was about to spill every bit of information about Green Day known to man. She absolutely loved them, and the one thing keeping her from truly losing it was the fact that she had seen them in concert once before, so it wasn’t the end of the world if she missed the concert next week. It only felt like the end of the world. But right as she found a place to begin, her name was called, prompting her to hesitantly get up and follow the nurse. Any questions asked were met with very short answers, and attempts to touch her arm received flinching, swearing, and eventually straight up tears. It didn’t take a genius to know her arm was broken, it was obvious from the moment they saw her. Needing stitches on a cut she got on her palm while trying to break her fall did not make the situation any better. Very quickly, she started to regret letting Alan take her here. Having zero personal space whatsoever and being not just surrounded, but touched by strangers constantly was not something Violet had ever been known to handle well.

(end of summary/timeskip)

After a few painful and exhausting hours, they were finally allowed to go home with Violet in a very clingy, touchy mood afterwards. She was limited by her arm being in a cast and sling, but tried her best to hug and stay close to Alan as they left the hospital. This was a pretty rare moment for her, but she clearly needed it. Maybe, just maybe she was still a little too out of it from the pain meds to care whether other people saw her being affectionate or not. You didn’t hear that from her just yet, but you probably would later if anyone were to ask her about it.

“Hey do you watch Teen Titans? Do you wanna..? Look!” She asked the question pretty fast before moving onto the next thing, which was showing Alan her phone’s lockscreen, a photo of all the characters from the show. That was probably what she was going to do when she got home; binge watch it for like the eighth time, and she had every intention of dragging Alan in on it with her.

Violet clinging onto Alan sent him into a mode Sam used to call 'papa bear mode'. She was vulnerable, and Alan knew she would truly hate it if anyone saw her like this. However he also knew that she needed him. He made sure she was mostly leaning on him, figuring her balance would be off now. She lived with Sam, didn't she? Alan knew the way to Sam's.

"I haven't seen an episode, but I'd love to watch it with you." He said calmly, carefully pushing the phone out of his face. He did not like having his vision temporarily blocked for even just a moment. His goal was to get Violet home and safe.

"Let's focus on walking, yeah? You can, ah, tell me about Teen Titans on the way."

He wished he had a car.

“Yesss!!” She cheered, putting her phone back in her pocket the moment Alan pushed it away. Her phone was vibrating in her pocket, likely messages from friends asking where the hell she’s been, but she ignored them completely. Eventually she’d respond, even if it took her until tomorrow to do so. It was probably for the best, as whatever she’d say to them right now would probably be dumb shit she’d later regret.

She was silent for a minute afterwards, watching her feet intensely as she walked, because to someone who’s brain was functioning on auxiliary power, that’s what “focus on walking” meant. “I’ve watched the whole thing like.. so many times, and the movie. Waaiiit.. you should see my Terra cosplay! Yeah, I’m gonna put it on when we get home.” She went on, basically saying any thought that came to mind.

Alan was no stranger to listening. He'd listened when Flynn ranted about his 'digital frontier', when Sam explained the intricacies of a motorcycle, and when Lora told him about her laser. He liked to see peoples' eyes light up and the enthusiasm in the way they speak. The way they use their hands to gesticulate different details.

He had no idea what a cosplay was, but he nodded along and listened anyway. He'd either learn it soon or look it up later.

Letting Violet talk the whole way made the trip seem a bit shorter, which was a relief. Alan's back was killing him and all he wanted to do was sit down and pass out.

"Ah, we're here." He said, mostly to himself. He lead Violet to the house, trying to figure out if he should knock or if Violet had keys. She probably had keys.

It took her a couple seconds of just standing at the door to realize that she was supposed to unlock it, but once she did, she grabbed her key and unlocked the door fairly quickly. Thank god she hadn’t lost it while riding if Alan didn’t have one of his own. That was something she had done an embarrassingly large number of times. Once she even managed to accidentally take home her friend’s key instead of her own. Neither of them were too happy that day when they realized they couldn’t even get into their own houses after a long day of school and had to meet back up to swap. She giggled a little at that memory, not even trying to hide it.

Once she got inside, Violet immediately laid down on the couch, pulling a pillow close to her and holding it as if she were hugging a stuffed animal. Normally she would do this with a stuffed penguin she’s had since she was a baby whenever she was scared, upset, or in pain. But she really didn’t feel like looking for it right now.

Alan took a deep breath, pretending he wasn't in pain as he made his way over to the couch. He paused, delayed in reactions. He hadn't realized the pain had gotten that bad. He came over to a chair that was off to the side a bit instead, slowly sitting himself down with the complaint of cracking knees. He shut his eyes, trying not to make a pained grunt when his back felt as if it had been stabbed a million times over.

He was silent for a few moments, trying not to bring attention to himself.

"I..." he meant to say, I already have someone to talk to about it--my therapist, but that was different, wasn't it?

Alan was trying to help. Which... few enough people in his life had tried. There really wasn't any good reason to get defensive with Alan, but he was too used to getting hurt.

He wanted someone he could talk to, as a friend.

He wanted to trust Alan, even if he didn't know how.

Ed took a deep breath. His posture relaxed, and any sign of defensiveness dropped away.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." He still couldn't bring himself to look at Alan. He was an adult now. He hadn't seen his father in ten years; he should be over this, shouldn't he? "I... I just... I... I don't know if I can," he admitted.

"That's okay. Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." Alan promised, glancing down at the cold cup of tea that he felt Ed was debating drinking.

"How about I get you some fresh tea, then?" It was rhetorical, he was already reaching for the cup. Though he hesitated, worried he was pushing too much.

Ed stared at Alan in confusion. Besides the contradiction of 'not going anywhere' and 'getting fresh tea' (the break room was down the hall; Alan would have to go there in order to do as he said), he didn't understand why he cared. They weren't friends.

It was... Kind. Probably one of the kindest things anyone done for him in a long time.

He didn't try to stop Alan, but he didn't quite trust himself to say anything, either.

Talking was... Difficult. He was emotionally drained. His father's assistant wouldn't stop calling him every day for the past month. Ed kept looking over his shoulder worrying that someone was following him, and he barely slept...

Which spiraled to falling behind on the OS and Mackey pushing for more. Mackey's less than subtle implications of corporate sabotage were nothing new and usually he could just ignore them, but today they were too much. Ed shut down during the meeting. He could still barely talk, and he wasn't sure he had the emotional energy for anything... Not if he wanted to function for the rest of the day.

Alan kept his eyes focused on Ed's expression, trying to figure what to do next.

"Would you, ah, like to come with? The break room should be empty by now." He offered, not wanting to leave Ed alone too long. Even if it was only a few moments. He was so used to Sam's sudden antics that he had no idea how to deal with someone more.. grounded. But if Ed wanted the time alone, he understood that too. Some people find it easier to work through things alone.

He was overthinking again.

He wished Lora was here. She'd know what to do. He felt so helpless without her. She always nudged him in the right direction, or held his hand and lead him the right way. He felt so lost and almost dizzy without that guidance.

For a minute, Ed sat in silence, uncertain how to respond to the request. He wasn't sure why Alan was worried about leaving him alone, although it was obvious that he was. Ed didn't need to be babysat. He wasn't a danger to himself...yet. There was little chance of him hurting himself here, anyway. And yet...

Did he want to be alone?

Now that he was given the choice of having company, he wasn't certain he wanted to be alone.

...He really didn't.

Ed pushed himself to his feet and followed Alan, although he seemed closer to a second shadow than an actual human.

Alan kept looking back at Ed, desperately trying to understand what to do. Ed was not Sam. That was difficult to remember when Alan only really dealt with two children (he knew Ed was not a child. But he still needed help, and Alan could only base his experiences off of his children) in his life , especially when both were similar to eachother.

Sam and Jet were both aloof and hated talking to Alan, even if they were for different reasons. Both hated when he pressed on about what was wrong. Both wanted to be alone and never talked to even if Alan had done nothing but try to connect.

Ed was different. He was hurt, but didn't actively push Alan away. He said 'I don't know if I can', not 'Leave me alone'. There was an openness to him that was a far step away from the locked doors he was used to.

What would Lora do?

He thought back to when he didn't feel like talking about Flynn's disappearance, how she came all the way from Washington to make sure he had someone to rely on physically.

I'm here for you, she had said. But that was different, because she was his wife. Ed was nearly a stranger with the bad reputation of his father looming over his head.

Holding it back will only hurt more.

He was sure that was just cheesy and stupid. Ed likely heard that a million times from the wellness posts that reached the internet these days. Not that Alan really knew that, he preferred old tech.

"You know, ah..." he trailed off, losing his train of thought as he stepped into the break room.

You know, what? Finish your sentences, Alan.

Ed didn't trust him, he knew that. He'd only make it worse if he kept pushing.

You don't know that. You don't know anything.

He took two cups, setting up the elecric kettle.

Of course he could just say he didn't know what to do. He could ask for help. But Ed was the one who needed comforting, he thought it would be much harder to open up to someone if they didn't know what they were doing.

He set the teabags in the cups, finding himself suddenly aware of what his hands were doing. He'd set out the sugar in case Ed wanted any. He didn't know how Ed liked his tea.

"Since you don't feel like talking about it now," he continued from where he left off, "I wanted you to know that you can come to my office any time you need to. Or, if you'd like, I can give you my number if you need to call me off work to talk."

He was pushing again.

Maybe he needed to.

The tea was ready.

"Or, I suppose..." he trailed off again. This time he truly didn't know what to add to the end of it. Everything blanked. He focused on pouring the tea.

"Ah, do you want any cream or sugar?"

Ed blinked, realizing he zoned out, following Alan in a haze. It took him a minute to process what the older programmer was saying.

I can give you my number.

The words were like a punch to the gut, and suddenly Ed couldn't breathe. He couldn't give Alan his number. It wasn't in the public directory for safety reasons, and he couldn't afford for it to fall into the wrong hands. Into his father's hands.

And yet... What were the chances that his number would get back to his father from Alan?

Ed was terrified of what would happen if his father broke the restraining order, if he went through on that decade-old threat to kidnap him. He could disappear, and nobody would notice in a way that truly mattered. A slight hiccup in the cogs of the corporate machine until they realized that he wasn't coming back. But eventually, they would replace him, and nobody would miss him.

...He couldn't bring Alan into this.

...But he was terrified and desperate and losing sleep over Peter's calls.

Alan was just offering to be nice. It wasn't like he actually cared.

Ed held the mug of tea in both his hands, desperate for something to focus on so he wouldn't end up sobbing openly in the break room. He all but clung to the mug, and what little comfort it's warmth could offer.

A cup of tea that Alan had made for him without even really asking.

It wasn't his usual afternoon blend; all they kept in the break room was the cheap stuff, and Ed had run out of his own stash and hadn't a chance to go buy more (he'd been too terrified from Peter's calls to bother going anywhere but home and work). It was just a cup of the cheap earl grey, but still the closest thing they had to his usual morning brew.

It was also the kindest thing anyone has done for Ed in a very long time.

The realization hit him like a like a train wreck, and Ed had to put the mug back down before he spilled.

"S-sugar, please," he gasped out.

Alan paused, finding his own hands trembling.

"Hey, I..." he couldn't think of what to say again. He could only think to hesitantly offer a hug.

He hoped that didn't overstep a boundary. He hoped he was doing something right. He hoped. He hoped.

He wished Lora was here. If only those could come true. He wished she'd take his hand, pat it gently, say It's okay, you tried your best and take over like she usually did.

He mentally kicked himself for thinking that. He didn't want to hand Ed off, because Ed was not a burden. Neither was Sam or Jet. He just wanted guidance.

He really didn't know what he'd do if Ed pushed him away.

Ed returned the hug awkwardly. He broke. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he wept into Alan's shoulder.

Well, so much for not crying.

Ed clung desperately to Alan, feeling impossibly small and vulnerable.

"I don't understand--"

Why did Alan care? Why now, after so many years of stupid corporate politics? Was Ed really that pathetic?

He's making a scene.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't-" Ed took a shuddering breath, trying and failing to pull himself together. This was embarrassing. He wasn't a little kid, and he'd dealt with this before. He shouldn't be such a mess over a damn phone call.

"I don't know why-usually I'm better than this."

Alan was not expecting Ed to accept the hug, and felt his heart sink when Ed began to cry.

"Oh.." he mumbled softly in surprise when Ed gripped onto him like a lifeline. He kept his arms around Ed, wanting to offer a secure hold that the younger programmer could escape if he felt the need to.

"Hey, hey, shh.. it's okay. Let it out. Crying helps you heal." That was something Lora told him years ago when he was trying to hold himself together.

"It's okay.."

He could physically feel the memory of young Sam bawling his eyes out in Alan's arms. The guilt of being 'too old to cry like a baby'. Sam had just lost his grandfather then. He was nineteen and afraid to cry.

It took everything in Alan's power not to threaten whoever was making Ed feel this way. Anger would only make things worse.

"There's no healing from it," Ed choked out between sobs. Not when the only thing keeping Ed safe was that his address and phone number weren't publicly available and Ernie at the security desk, not when Mackey and practically everyone else on the board only ever saw him as Dillinger's son, and never as Ed, and Mackey kept ripping open old wounds.

Not when Peter kept calling him even though he knew he was attempting to get Ed to answer and nullify the restraining order, and Mackey insinuated corporate sabotage and threatened to fire him and take away the only place Ed truly felt safe.

It occurred to Ed that had his family been the healthy, normal kind, this might have been the thing his father might have done for him when he was little, and he wouldn't be here with Alan comforting him.

Another wound Ed could only keep metaphorically bandaging, but would never heal: grief for what never existed.

"Ed... I need you to tell me what's going on." Alan said softly, yet he added a stern tone that meant he was going to protect Ed at any cost. He put his hands on Ed's shoulders, resisting the temptation to wipe the younger programmer's tears for him.

Something had clicked. Alan didn't know what. But the need to protect overrode his fear and trauma.

"I can tell there's something serious you're not telling me about... I know it's hard, but if this is a matter of safety there might be something I can do."

"Why do you care?" Ed asked into the wet splotch he made on Alan's shirt. He still didn't understand why Alan would care, especially after all the animosity at the board meetings.

There was no reason Alan should care.

He needed to tell someone, if only so that someone would know if he did disappear.

...this was a joke, wasn't it?

He needed Alan's help, and the promise of safety was tempting.

Surely Alan wouldn't be so cruel... would he?

Ed didn't know.

The number of people he trusted had always been few, and, well. Encom may have been the safest he's ever been, but it was also the most isolated. As much as he wanted to trust Alan, he wasn't sure if he could.

Nobody was here to witness, but there were still the security cameras, and the heartbreak of realizing this was all a cruel joke would destroy him.

"Please stop pretending to care."

He stumbled away, embarrassed for having been crying on Alan's shoulder, and suddenly feeling the overwhelming urge to lock himself in his office and pretend he didn't exist for the rest of the day, at least.

"Wh-" Alan frowned, letting his hands drop. His heart broke. He was shocked speechless, trying desperately to utter a single word as he carefully tried to determine what to say or do.

He took a deep breath, carefully putting his hands on Ed's shoulders.

"Ed, I need you to look me in the eye and listen." He said carefully, making sure Ed made eye contact with him.

"I am not Richard Mackey. We may have our differences, but that doesn't mean I want to trick you. In honesty, you remind me of my sons." Son. Sam wasn't technically his. "I know that you're going through something that you're struggling to do so alone. From my experience, that often makes people push others away."

Alan very hesitantly brought a hand up to wipe the tears on Ed's face, like he did when Sam was a child. He could feel the terror, the heartbreak. He could hear the inner child begging for someone to scoop him up and hold him, to tell him everything was going to be okay.

"If you don't believe me, you can ask anyone here that I genuinely want to help. I know you are not your father, even if board meetings may get on my nerves. You're a good kid, Ed. You don't deserve to be hurt this way. You deserve kindness. I want you to listen and believe that it is never going to be my intention to hurt you."

With the popularity of Planet of the Bass I've noticed a lot of people getting eurobeat and eurodance confused. This is understandable but also REALLY funny to me as a eurobeat girlie. Reigning Eurobeat queen Odyssey (you may know her as the girl behind "Discord I'm howlin at the moon") has a good Twitter thread on the subject, but to add my own summary that's hopefully not too jargon-y:

It's PROBABLY EUROBEAT if:

It's PROBABLY EURODANCE (at least as opposed to eurobeat) if:

It's DEFINITELY eurobeat if:

Eurobeat songs you may know include Running in the 90s, Deja Vu, Gas Gas Gas, The Top, Night of Fire, and an honorable mention to The Living Tombstone's remix of Odyssey's eurobeat remix of Discord.

Eurodance songs you may know include Every Time We Touch, Butterfly, Caramelldansen, Cotton-Eye Joe (yes, really!), Dragostea Din Tei, and Blue.

HOPE THIS HELPS!!!!!!!

see i think what people get caught up in is going "oh this and that are fetish art......hey did you know x thing is a fetish...pretty crazy right.....this piece of art is actually a fetish for the artist........" and like. see the problem is thinking that devalues the art. i don't think something being a fetish or sexual in nature or whatever actually detracts from any meaning or emotional weight something could have. i don't think "horny" is a worthless or meaningless emotion and i don't see why exploring it in art is any different from "sadness" or "happiness" or "anger". does that make sense? im just sayin we should examine why we view sexuality as inherently detracting/meaning less in art than other things

this blew up so lightning round:

"as long as they're not posting it publicly"/"well its not always horny dont assume its horny": you're missing the point, this is a post about how horny is an emotion of equal artistic value to any other and if people want to post their fetish art i think that's fine

"i was raised christian/came from a christian background and this was a hard thing i had to learn but so important"/"the idea of sexual feelings being less worthy of showing is christian": i'm proud of you you're doing great. also that's true

"it's more interesting actually"/"fetish art ends up being better bc people put a lot more focus into their work when they're obsessed with it": you're right

"stop it with the horny jail thing": you're also right

idk man i think that if you can read dozens and dozens of trans men talking about how their support systems abandoned them when they started getting too masculine on T or had top surgery or whatever, and queer spaces started treating them like threats or potential predators, and you find these stories going back to the 90s or even earlier, and you read all of that and come away thinking that there’s nothing wrong with how progressive communities treat men, you are just fundamentally beyond help dude. you don’t see us as people

a lot of people are somehow misinterpreting this post as saying that trans women Don't experience alienation or ostracization from queer, feminist, and/or progressive communities, to which i say: i am not responsible for your belief that trans men and trans women have to have entirely separate and opposite experiences. if you think that trans men experiencing something implies that trans women can't experience it, that's on you! you might want to sit and have a think about how you see the world and whether or not you're buying into the (deeply patriarchal!) idea that men and women are entirely separate from each other. you might learn something.

quick mods are asleep post tron reaction images

aka please give me ur best tron reaction images tronblr i don't have nearly enough

My contribution of Alan reaction images

flashback to when MLK Jr said the worst group in the US for black rights wasn't the lawmakers passing Jim Crow laws or the KKK but the white moderate. That it was the white moderate who was forcing the country to find a middle ground between civil rights and genocide which allowed the continued systematic mistreatment of the African American community

i love you lisp i love you stutter i love you pressured speech i love you damaged vocal cords i love you aphasia i love you mutism i love you selective mutism i love you deaf voice i love you apraxia i love you speech delay i love you vocal tic i love you articulation disorder i love you sign language

i hate you societal norm to make fun of speech impediments i hate you “get it fixed” mentality i hate you mocking someone for the way they communicate i hate you “go to speech therapy so your kid won’t be bullied” i hate you i hate you i hate you

all goofing aside I genuinely don't understand the urge to reimagine Taylor Allison Swift as a secretly queer icon when the pop music scene(TM) is like. literally overflowing with women who actually like women. Gaga and Kesha and Miley and Halsey are right there. Rina Sawayama and Hayley Kiyoko and Rebecca Black and Kehlani and Victoria Monét and Miya Folick if you're willing to get slightly less top 100. Janelle and Demi for them nonbinary takes on liking girls. like what are we doing here. like I'm not even saying you can't enjoy Taylor but why would you hang all your little gay hopes on her.

Isn’t Lady Gaga bisexual?

yes that is indeed why she's on the list of famous women who like women

why have multiple people reblogged this with some horse-assed "um actually most of these people are bi or pan" did I fucking stutter I said they like girls. what is your point. I'm going to kill you.

#op probably has this post muted but the icon is too real.

the icon is because of this post

POV: you make a good post and then encounter tumblr reading comprehension

btw to just clarify for anyone who sees this reblog of this post

op is basically saying something along the lines of "yea ik taylor swift is bi but like. why is she y'all's only lgbtq+ pop icon when there are all these other lgbtq+ people in the pop scene???"

i might have worded this badly but hopefully i got the main point across

hi op here I certainly did not fucking say Taylor Swift is bi

of course you have blood all over you. and pronouns

easy website

^^^ me when I’m trying to calm down my horse named “Website”

weird horse

"Websight" is a Valid Warrior Cat Name!

train wreck of a post. hit reblog

Well, this would be interesting...

This will be amazing, though!

Just think about it:

We are in the era after it caused SO MUCH, and caused so many sites to put in blocks and other restrictions to stop it from scraping everything

If they are forced to wipe their entire dataset then they won't be able to get even a fraction of it back!

Not only that, but they would be forced to get permission of the owners for everything they use. Which would IMO, actually kill most of the issues with AI and actually make the technology into something actually useful.

fireflies lighting up a rural Pennsylvania field at dusk

As a european i sometimes forget furefkied are actually real and not american folklore/cryptids. Like you’ve got friendly little bugs that glow in the dark….. b r uh

in case europeans were worried: we love them very much! even tho they’re clumsy and slow and sometimes bump into you, no one swats fireflies here, or takes them for granted. even grownups sometimes reach out in the summer and gently catch a firefly for a minute before letting it go.

By “reach out” that’s meant quite literally–you just kinda. Stick your hand in their flight path and they land on you and will sit on your hand for a bit. Sometimes if you’re just walking or standing outside while they’re active you have to shoo them off you because they’ll just. Sit on you.

They’re harmless and very pretty and it’s always a treat to see because they’re out for a relatively short time each year.

yeah yeah weve all seen it a million times computer parts as cities. well a million and onth time wont hurt bring it over here

why do all my internet friends have to live so far away im literally going to be sick. when will they invent a computer you can climb through

is this really too much to ask......................... :(

me visiting my mutuals ^__^

I hope you have an extra large screen

Me getting my face stuck: I didn't know you were on mobile I'm so sorry is there a big computer you can log onto real quick

I mean I think people should curate their own fandom experience and whatnot and it's perfectly fair to just avoid things one is uncomfortable with...

That being said. From personal experience? Immunizing myself to all my discomforts by browsing through pixiv and kink memes with raised eyebrows while searching for things I am interested in back when tagging was non-existent has really made my fandom experience much more pleasant nowadays.

I have preferences, for sure. But I have no fear. I have no cringe. The filthiest, grossest fanwork holds no powers over me. I am a god.

Like honestly dl;dr and block on sight is respectable and all but I genuinely think everyone could just benefit from purposefully exposing yourself to your nOTP and non-triggering squicks sometimes? (And obviously don't go bother the creators for it.) If only so that it makes it easier/safer to search for content you like without living in fear of accidentally glimpsing something you hate and having that ruin your day.

Training oneself to be comfortable with mild discomfort is a highly under-rated skill in this day and age

I think its interesting that "desensitized" is a dirty word now. Like...when I did my therapy, being desensitized was the GOAL. It was the fucking dream.

But also, desensitization essentially gives you the agency to say, "okay so that felt bad, now I can either put it away, really explore and understand what that discomfort is trying to tell me, or discard it." Idk...some of yall are so fucking distressed all the time and you call it "being normal" or "being a decent human being" but...it isn't normal to be distressed all the time. It isn't decent to be distressed all the time. And like...I have disords and chemical shit going on in my brain but if you don't have all that....I think you need to look at your distress and ask why it is actually enduring and who benefits from you being distressed (lessons from a pre-bush era american).