#Comparative Media Studies/Writing

[jcmarchi]

MIT students build connections with Black and Indigenous Brazilians to investigate culture and the environment

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/mit-students-build-connections-with-black-and-indigenous-brazilians-to-investigate-culture-and-the-environment/

MIT students build connections with Black and Indigenous Brazilians to investigate culture and the environment

In January 2024, at the height of Brazil’s summer, a group of 20 MIT undergraduates will arrive in São Paulo, Brazil, for the Independent Activities Period (IAP) course WGS.247/21L.592 (Race, Place, and Modernity in the Americas) jointly offered by the School of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences’ programs in Women’s and Gender Studies, Literature, and Writing. 

Continuing a program developed in 2019 and launched as a special course in 2020, the three-week course offers students opportunities to study how American and Brazilian Black and Indigenous writers, artists, and filmmakers’ art and cultural activism — particularly women’s — can impact racial justice and environmental issues. 

The class will visit historical sites, cultural centers, nature reserves, and museums while also engaging in conversations with local scholars, activists, religious leaders, community organizers, and artists. 

By mixing classroom discussions with on-site exploration and cross-cultural exchanges, the course offers innovative pedagogy that is experiential (learning by doing), immersive (learning within an environment), and interdisciplinary (learning across different fields).

An immersive course, years in the making

Joaquin Terrones ’99, a lecturer in literature and women’s and gender studies, was already teaching this material when he considered expanding its scope. “It seemed like the natural next step was to take students to Brazil so they could experience its incredible culture, art, and activism for themselves,” he remembers.

In 2019, he and Wyn Kelley, a senior lecturer in literature, received a Higher Education Innovation grant from the MIT Jameel World Education Lab (J-WEL) to develop the course and teach it as a special subject the following year.

Generous support from MIT-Brazil, the Office of Minority Education, and MindHandHeart completed its transformation into a full-fledged course in women’s and gender studies, literature, and writing as part of MIT’s Independent Activities Period (IAP) last January.

Helen Elaine Lee, a professor in MIT’s Comparative Media Studies/Writing program, co-taught the subject in its first full year, sharing her experiences using creative practices to further social justice.  

Undergraduates from across MIT’s five schools, particularly Black, Latino, LGBTQ+, and first-generation college students, have enrolled. This outreach is important because some studies have shown students from these groups are underserved by study abroad programs, participating at significantly lower rates.

“Our students want spaces like the one created by this course to think deeply and collectively about the daunting array of crises we face, from catastrophic climate change to entrenched violence against communities of color,” says Terrones.

No day at the beach … well, maybe one or two

Although a few weeks in South America during January might sound like a vacation, the course is rigorous and intense, packing a semester’s worth of material into three weeks. Students spend mornings in seminar-style discussions, head out across the city for field trips in the afternoon, and return to their residences in the early evening for a few hours of readings or screenings. 

For Tamea Cobb, a senior double majoring in chemical engineering and literature, the class trip to Rio led to an epiphany. “I remember waking up super early to watch the sunrise on the beach, where we saw a man practicing capoeira, an Afro-Brazilian martial art form disguised to look like dancing by enslaved Africans forbidden from practicing martial arts. We had just learned about capoeira the week prior, so it was a beautiful full-circle moment.”

In addition to class outings in São Paulo and Rio, students also organize their own weekend trips within Brazil to places such as Salvador, the unofficial capital of Afro-Brazilian culture, and Inhotim, a vast open-air art museum and botanical garden in the middle of the Atlantic Forest.

Beyond Brazil

The course’s impact continues well after its completion as participants incorporate what they learned into their work and lives. 

“The course was a priceless experience that further revealed the interconnectedness of African experiences in the Americas,” says Afura N. Taylor ’21, who double majored in physics and writing. “It has influenced my writing by providing examples of literature and cultural practices that center ancestral memory.”

Educators also see benefits. “I had no idea it would give me a new research project on the presence of Brazil in Black U.S. print culture from the early national period to the present,” says Kelley. 

In fact, the course’s success has inspired two new IAP subjects in Brazil this year: 21G.S07 (Language Conversation and Brazilian Culture) by Nilma Dominique from the Global Studies and Languages Section, and 10.496/1.096 (Design of Sustainable Polymer Systems in the Amazon) by Professor Bradley Olsen in the Department of Chemical Engineering.

When asked what makes the course special, Professor Lee describes “[a] unique power [that] derives from rigorous discussions of challenging texts and films that question prevalent assumptions about history and politics, and immersive cultural experiences that open mind and heart, expanding and empowering students who often feel isolated and excluded on MIT’s campus.”  

She adds, “In addition to deepening my intellectual and political understanding, this class gave me a profound experience of ancestral recovery that has fed my artistic work. For our Black, Latinx, and LGBTQ+ students, it was a liberatory experience of community. A re-education. A cultural and personal homecoming.”

[pallas-cat]

next therapist appointment im dedicating time to my horribly, horribly frayed relationship w writing and reading before school starts again lmao

[coralaura]

Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

[my-chemical-rot]

Looooove it (/s) when people who haven’t taken an art class since 5th grade make all kinds of judgements about college-level art classes and say shit like “isn’t it an easy class though? Don’t you get an A just for showing up? Or just for participating? You don’t actually have to be good at art to pass that class right?” Like okay maybe when you’re ten years old your art teacher isn’t gonna grade you by technique and skill but contrary to popular belief you actually have to be *good* at art and work your fucking ass off every single day to get a good grade in an art class

[kakao-lovey]

⁉¿? Wait a minute... Who are you?

Journaling prompts to find your identity when you're drowning in labels and subcultures

Let me be real with you. I'm a teenager, as I assume most of you reading this are (And if you're not, that's totally OK), and trying to find your identity often means trying on persona after persona, hoping that someday something will fit. Which, yes, it will, but I personally believe writing it out and exploring is so much more rewarding (and so much less embarrassing).

۶ৎ Create an overview

This is like writing a discord intro. Include your (Actual, chosen) name, gender identity, and so on, if you would like, but the most important part isn't that obvious.

How do I feel about my nationality? Am I proud of where I live? If I had to choose somewhere, anywhere to live, where would I choose?

What are my feelings towards my assigned gender? Where do I fall on the spectrum? Is my energy more masculine or feminine, or completely neutral?

What is my body image like? What do I like about the way I look, and what do I don't?

Do I actually feel like my bodily age? Younger, older?

Am I aligned with 'Human nature'? Do I enjoy being human, or would I rather be something else?

By taking these traits you were born with and evaluating, you start to get an idea of what you identify with, and what you don't. This is very important, but people often don't question things like this, as they seem a given (But end up unhappy with their view of themselves).

۶ৎ This versus that

Divide your page into a left side and a right side. On the left, write down your real-life answers to these questions. On the right, write what your 100% ideal version of yourself would say. Then compare.

How do I feel about going to school / university / my job?

How do I wake up feeling in the morning?

How do I express myself? (Clothing, makeup, art, music)

What does my friendship circle / lack thereof look like?

How does my brain think people see me? Do I care?

What does my living space look like?

How do I treat myself? Is it fair?

What goes on daily inside my head?

What are my goals in life?

How do I react to failure / disappointment?

What is my main coping mechanism?

What is the strongest opinion I have about myself?

How do my hobbies / activities contribute to my life?

What is my biggest vice?

What am I proud of, relating to my identity?

If it doesn't match up at all, no worries. The most important step to creating an identity for yourself is knowing who you want to be. For a long time I had no idea, and ended up becoming someone I strongly disliked, which is counterintuitive and mentally draining.

۶ৎ Words

Get yourself a blank piece of paper, and write down as many things as you can that interest you, describe you, or that you love. It doesn't have to be cohesive, follow a theme or anything like that, just words on a page. I'll do an example here:

Boba tea, meditation, blogging, Laufey, Cinnamoroll, studying, wonyoungism, skincare, medical dramas, Murakami, dusty pink, journaling, aquarium, cats, that girl/boy, Turkish delight, vanilla

۶ৎ Mood board / Vision board

As a highly visual person, I make collages from Pinterest all the time, and making one or a couple for yourself, or who you want to be, is a great exercise for identity and manifestation. Ideas for what to put on:

Photos related to your aesthetic

Indoor design that speaks to you

Photos of your hobbies

Items you would love to own, or already do

'Goals': photos of good grades, your desired appearance, money etc.

Fashion styles that you wear, or wish you could

Your future occupation

Photos conveying your mood lately

Media (Games, books, movies, shows) that you really enjoy

Your favourite album

An example:

Feel free to reply to this post with your answers!

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ Kakao

[deminetly]

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ ACTIVITIES FOR SHIFTERS ಿৎ

activities for people with fame drs

⠂⠁⠈⠂��⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

⋆ journal as your dr self

⋆ make a collage about your dr self (face claim, hair claim, body claim, hand claim, pets, room, house, style, general vibe)

⋆ write love letters to your s/o

⋆ watch storytimes of other ppl shifting to ur dr

⋆ make your social media profiles (twinote)

⋆ make moodboards for your drs/people in your drs

⋆ design your outfits (everyday, red carpet etc)

⋆ make a uquiz called “which one of my drs are you”

⋆ think of a trend to start in your fame dr

⋆ make up slang that people in your dr use

⋆ make shifting memes

⋆ make your dr room in roomsxyz

⋆ design your dr camera roll (from pinterest or go for a walk and take the pictures yourself)

⋆ go out and take pictures of places that remind you of your dr

⋆ draw/make picrews of your dr selves/friends

⋆ fill in pinterest templates about your dr self and your dr friends

⋆ make up a holiday and script it in your dr

⋆ make your own notion script template

⋆ make your own timetable for your school dr (make up new classes)

⋆ make a shifting bingo card of things you want to do in your dr

⋆ make posters about your drs (movies you acted in, your band, your school etc)

⋆ make yourself look like your dr self

⋆ go on google maps and walk around the area you want to shift to/serach up a yt video of someone walking around that place

⋆ organize your wardrobe and outfits (pinterest, combyne)

⋆ make up the whole film lore for your actor dr

⋆ write down (or even make up new) foods you would like to eat in your dr

⋆ make a playlist about your s/o or just dr in general

⋆ make up shifting methods

⋆ write down shifting methods, try them out and rate them

⋆ research the void state

⋆ make new places ans their lore for your dr, find pictures

⋆ watch documentaries about shifting

⋆ scroll through shifting tumblr and reddit

⋆ write down what a typical day in the life looks like for your dr self and follow that schedule for a day

⋆ write articles about your fame dr drama

⋆ script in a new tiktok trend you can do with your s/o

⋆ plan a halloween group costume for your dr self and friends

⋆ make a vision board for each dr

⋆ invent your own currency system for your dr

⋆ design a flag for the place youre shifting to

⋆ design merch for your fame dr

⋆ give random memes a twist so they would be about your dr

⋆ script a secret society (a hidden group in your dr with its own rituals, symbols and purpose)

⋆ design and script in tattoos for your dr self

⋆ write fanfic about random people in your dr/you and someone else from your dr

⋆ create new seasons for your dr

⋆ invent new amusement park rides to ride in your dr

⋆ invent a new zodiac system for your dr

⋆ make a board game based on your dr (locations, inside jokes etc)

⋆ script in a new restaurant and menu specifically for you

⋆ start a tumblr blog just for your dr (post things like day in the life of me, haul of what i just bought, new concert announcement etc)

⋆ make comics about your drs

⋆ make your own shifting school system (script: schedule, homework, building, uniform, topics you study, friend group, foods they offer during lunch, dorm room etc)

⋆ make a wikipedia about your (fame) dr self

⋆ make a magazine/newletter about your dr

⋆ take the rice purity test as your dr self then as your cr self and compare them

⋆ write a story/journal page/blog post of a success story as if you shifted (where did you wake up, who did you first talk to, what did you do, how did it feel, what was better than you expected, etc)

⋆ make a script for your cr

⋆ talk to people from your dr through tarot cards

⋆ make instagram stories as your dr self (collage pictures that fit the vibe and add a song your dr self would listen to)

⋆ script in fashion shows (think of cool themes, design the stage and outfits)

⋆ draw you and your dr friends / s/o together

⋆ make peope from your dr in metahuman (or other games like that)

⋆ worldbuild your dr in sims

⋆ karaoke your whole discography (fame dr specific)

⋆ make your s/o a gift for their birthday and celebrate it in your cr

⋆ make a list of foods to eat in your dr

⋆ write a story/book/song about shifting

⋆ make up a new video game so you could play it in your dr

⋆ make up a new show/movie so you could watch it in your dr

[darkwicks]

Homecoming

You’re a casual fan, you think. Spider-Man is cool, and you just really like him. That’s all... until you learn that the friendly neighbourhood web-slinger is so much closer than you think.

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀female reader | superhero AU & Spider-Man Caleb | descriptions of anxiety, fluff, happy ending, mentions of blood and bruises, secrets, slice-of-life (as much as it can possibly be), some angst and hurt/comfort | ~7,6k words

A/N.⠀I really said "I'm going on a writing hiatus" and "I'm gonna lock in" with my whole chest knowing damn well I'm a liar ... anyway yeah this fic was inspired by this Spider-Man Caleb fanart... it made me go crazy.... I hope you enjoy!

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

@hunters-association @theseabreezestreet

You were on the verge of a breakthrough. You just knew it.

You were absentmindedly swinging your legs back and forth as you sat at the table. Your laptop was open and displaying several windows—some were images of Spider-Man, some were news articles. Your tablet, and in turn, your notes, had gone completely forgotten. Spending time passively scrolling social media was far from productive, but compared to what you were reading, exam revision was totally dull.

Developing an interest in Spider-Man had been unintentional. You saw him mentioned in the news. Out of curiosity, you looked him up, and all of a sudden, you found yourself deep in the rabbit hole. Before long, you were up-to-date with daily news, keeping up with his movements and making friends with fellow Spider-Man fans. It was swift and unexpected, but you found it more fun than whatever you were previously doing.

He was far from the first superhero Linkon City had seen. There used to be rumours about the God of the Tides and how he ruled the seas for centuries before he found the love of his life. There was also Lumière of the N109 zone, a vigilante who suddenly stopped being active about fourteen years ago. Legends of the Abysm Sovereign and the Foreseer were passed down through generations. No one had proof they existed, only the product of their labour. It was as if they didn’t want to be seen. Still, that didn’t stop your interest from getting piqued.

The difference between Spider-Man and the past legends of Linkon City was that Spider-Man was still active. A web-slinging genius with a no-kill rule, he made the streets significantly safer. Photos and surveillance footage of him were constantly shared, but no one had any luck finding his identity yet. You weren’t investigating him for malicious reasons. You were just, for the lack of a better word, nosy. You wanted to know the man behind the mask instead of the neighbourhood guardian the news always talks about.

You looked at your screen. There was a rough timeline of his appearances the past week. He was in different parts of the city, catching robbers and other criminals with his presumably handmade technology. There wasn’t a strict pattern to how he operated. It seemed that he liked to lurk before making a move. It was how he brought down the corrupted colonels of the Farspace Fleet. Fighting crime appeared to be easy for him, and he wasn’t as destructive as some were. It was impressive. Everything he did had you in awe. His dexterity and swiftness, his strength and courage—he was just what Linkon City needed, you thought.

Just as you were about to go into another deep dive, a hand pushed your laptop shut. Caleb was towering over you when you snapped your gaze to him, brows furrowed as you gave him an offended look. He lightly jabbed your forehead and only smiled in response, seemingly pleased with your reaction.

“You’re supposed to be studying.”

You sputtered. “I was studying!”

“No, you weren’t. You were looking at Spider-Man again.” He tapped his fingers on your tablet, reilluminating the screen once more. “Your exams are next week. You need to focus.”

“I can multitask,” you argued half-heartedly. “And, I’ve never let you down, have I?”

Caleb took the seat across from you with an exaggerated sigh. “I guess not.”

“Why do you hate Spider-Man so bad anyway?” You frowned, trying to move his hand away. He didn’t budge. “He’s keeping the city safe. That’s a good thing!”

“I don’t hate him, but you’ve been distracted. I’m trying to help you.”

“You sound jealous,” you joked. Resting your cheek in the palm of your hand, you looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Are you sad I’m not giving you enough attention?”

He pursed his lips, visibly unimpressed. “Set the table. Dinner’s ready.”

“You’re no fun!” you whined. “It’s not my fault there’s finally something interesting!”

You begrudgingly moved your items to the side and got up to make your way to the kitchen, slippers sliding against the floor. The savoury aroma swirled into the air, making your stomach growl involuntarily. Your irritation now forgotten, you made quick work of setting the table and pouring two glasses of water. With your job finished, you waited at the table, eyes drifting over to the TV on the wall. The screen displayed two reporters behind a desk beginning the evening segment. It faded into a clip of men webbed stuck to a lamppost, undoubtedly the work of Spider-Man himself. They were looking to rob an innocent passerby before the webslinger caught them red-handed.

“Huh. That’s where we live,” you spoke up after rereading the headline.

Caleb placed the plates on the table. “That’s why I always tell you to be home before curfew.”

“It’s not like I break curfew anyway,” you grumbled. “You know I hate being out when it’s dark.”

Distracted, you kept your eyes on the screen. The public had mixed opinions about Spider-Man himself. You, along with your circle of friends, thought of him as a hero, feeling safer knowing that he was out there protecting innocent people. From helping an old woman cross the street to busting evil plans, he was using his talents and intelligence for good. He worked tirelessly every day to keep the streets pristine and harmless. The police, on the other hand, weren’t as fond of him. The LCPD openly expressed their distaste for Spider-Man, citing that he was an obstacle in their investigations. Some people thought he was just another guy with a gimmick. These criticisms didn’t seem to bother him at all. If anything, every time someone said anything negative about him, he’d work even harder just to prove them wrong.

You knew it was far from wise to idolise a public figure, but with Spider-Man, he inspired you to do your best every day. You liked to imagine he’d be proud of you if he knew you. You worked hard and powered through no matter how many setbacks you had. As silly and childish as it sounded, he made for great motivation. He was a good guy, he was cool, and—

Caleb waved his hand in front of your face, a warning tone in his voice. “Pipsqueak.”

You jolted, snapping back to the present. “Sorry!”

“Why do you like Spider-Man so much?” he asked, poking at his food. “You got a crush on him?”

You sputtered. “What? No!”

He gave you a look that urged you to continue. Heat rose to your face as you felt a spotlight shining down upon you, giving you the floor. It was hard not to feel embarrassed about something that felt so childish. You hummed thoughtfully, trying to think of words to say. Knowing you were going to sound like a child regardless, you sulked, defeated, and finally gave him a response.

“It’s just… I really like superheroes,” you mumbled timidly, fiddling with your fingers. “I admire people who use their strength for good. Like you!”

The corners of his lips twitched. He seemed pleased. “So do you like me or Spider-Man more?”

“You are jealous!” you said with an accusatory tone. “Caleb, it’s not like that! It’s like… You know when you have a favourite celebrity? That’s what Spider-Man is to me.”

He made a face, though he ended up relenting. “Okay. I get it.”

“Yeah! It’s kinda like how you used to like—”

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” he interrupted, flustered. “I put all my effort into making your favourite. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“Fine,” you drawled out, unable to hold back the smile from stretching across your lips.

Spider-Man eventually faded to the back of your mind throughout dinnertime. You found yourself engrossed in conversation with Caleb, slipping into the normal banter and routine with ease. Somewhere in between, he changed the channel to natural documentaries instead. When you gave him a questioning look, he just shrugged and said that you should take a break with him. Not one to deny his requests, your laptop went forgotten as you spent the remainder of the night on the couch with him.

It was nearing midnight, and from the way that you yawned, you were nearing your limit as well. The documentary was long finished; the past few minutes were just advertisement after advertisement, regular products with unnecessarily catchy jingles. You glanced over at him, suddenly curious. Unlike you, he didn’t seem to be tired at all. If you were more awake, you’d notice the anxious bouncing of his leg or the worried furrow in his brow, but fatigue was catching up to you fast. With another yawn, you pushed yourself to your feet, taking the throw blanket with you.

“Goodnight, Caleb.”

He smiled at you. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fully sated and worn out, sleep came as easily as breathing. Images flickered behind your eyes, displaying dreams and vignettes in film reels. You dreamt of endless summers and sweetness, of growing up and exploring the world. When you woke up the next day, only a fragment of those memories remained. Caleb was already gone when you left your room. He left a note saying he’d left early and that breakfast was in the fridge. After treating yourself to his homemade cooking, you set off for classes and got the day started. It wasn’t very eventful. Classes weren’t particularly interesting. Lectures were about things you already knew, and a majority of your classmates were absent, leading to little to no conversation. Before long, the academic day was over, and it was time to return home.

The streets were bustling with activity as you waded through the crowd. Clamour and chatter were more than loud, people surrounded you, and the scent of car fumes mixed with savoury food bombarded all of your senses. You were starting to see now why people liked to say that Linkon City never sleeps. With everyone getting off work, the city was beyond crowded. Restaurants were fully seated, as were the cafés. Traffic went by incredibly slowly. Dogs barked to the sound of car horns and people were emerging from the train station in groups. You gripped your bag tightly, anxiety clawing at the back of your mind. News and posters about pickpockets were nearly a regular occurrence; it was better to be safe than sorry.

You managed to make it to a street where there were less people. You recognised some of the vendors out and about, offering them warm smiles as you walked past. Occasionally, you stopped by and bought a few snacks to take home. Now having your hands full, you were more than ready to go home and unwind. You hummed a catchy pop tune under your breath, leisurely walking down the path when the TV screens in the electronic stores came alive. You came to a stop, standing in front of the clear glass. It was a news segment. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the screen displaying surveillance of Spider-Man was context enough.

He single-handedly stopped a burglary, moving with inhuman agility and fighting with incredible strength. It showed a group of men bound together by his webs, cursing and fruitlessly struggling to break free. It took a few seconds before the familiarity of the background sank in. The convenience store, the townhouses and the DVD store… The incident happened not too far from home. A frown overtook your features. Despite the crime rate being significantly lower thanks to Spider-Man’s efforts, the curfew was still in place, and the unrest remained. It was not any different for you.

As you made a move to continue your walk, you felt something being snatched from your grasp—your bag. The thief ran at full speed, deftly navigating through the crowd as you yelled for help and followed him, aggressive footfalls slapping against the concrete. Absentminded apologies left your lips whenever a complaint was heard from a passerby. Your chest was beginning to ache, but you needed it back. It had everything. Your phone, your wallet, your house keys with the chain Caleb bought for you. You couldn’t afford to lose it.

The traffic light turned red just as the thief crossed to the other side. You contemplated just dashing through, but anxiety kept you rooted to your spot. They were going further into the distance. You bounced on your heels nervously, eyes glaring at the timer. 40, 39, 38…

It was now or never.

Cars honked at you as you ran to the other side, the combination of noise nearly sending you jumping out of your skin. You pushed through your fatigue and kept running until you tripped over your shoelaces, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. You hopelessly reached out, watching the thief’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Tears of frustration sprang up to your eyes and you buried your face in your hands, uncaring of how you looked to other people. You weren’t fast enough. All your important things were gone, about to be left somewhere you could never find, and your information would be stolen—

“This yours?”

Your bag was dangling in front of you. Were you so distraught that you were hallucinating having someone come to your aid? You blinked and stared at it dumbly, your mind trying to grapple with the situation. The person crouched down to your level, and Spider-Man’s face came into view.

Wait…

You screamed in surprise, frantically pushing yourself away from him. “What—”

“Hey, hey, It’s okay. It’s just me. I webbed him. He’ll be stuck there for another three hours,” he said casually, speaking as though he was just another regular pedestrian and not the famed vigilante of Linkon City. “I had to look at your ID card to make sure it was you, but I’m glad I got to you in time. Here, take it.”

You barely managed to catch the bag as you were still gawking at him. What felt like a thousand questions were popping up rapidly in your head. How did he know? When did he get here? What was going on? How was he so fast? Caught off guard by your stunned silence, he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, feeling awkward under your stare.

“Everything okay?” Spider-Man asked tentatively, waving a hand in front of your face. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, your reaction slightly delayed. “N-No.”

“Listen, I have to go. There’s gonna be a robbery on Ninth Street.” He helped you get on your feet, carefully making sure you had your balance. “Get home safe, okay? And don’t leave past curfew.”

“Okay,” you said, dumbfounded. It didn’t take long before you managed to snap yourself back to awareness. “Yeah, okay. Thank you for getting this back to me.”

He did a casual salute before aiming his web shooter at a building, swinging away with ease. Digging through your bag, you were relieved to find that everything was intact. Once the confusion went away, excitement came rushing in. You hastily grabbed your phone and dialled Caleb’s number, lips curling into a grin. He picked up after the first ring.

“What’s up?”

“You will not believe what just happened to me,” you said in one breath. “I just met Spider-Man.”

A loud crash was heard in the background.

You hesitated. “Are you busy? It sounds like you’re in the middle of something…”

“Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. So, you met Spider-Man?”

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“Uh, pipsqueak?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I did! I’m walking home right now. Someone tried to steal my wallet and I couldn’t catch them, but Spider-Man did and he got it back for me. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Someone tried to rob you?” You could practically hear the frown in his voice. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You blinked. “You’re at work. What were you gonna do?”

He fell silent. It took a couple of beats before he spoke up again.

“Well, I’m glad you got your stuff back. Just make sure to be home before sundown. Tell me when you’re back, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, I promise.”

“It’s okay! Take your time,” you reassured him. “I’m heading home now. See you.”

You had a pep in your step for the rest of the way, feeling in high spirits after the encounter. The weight on your shoulders was lifted, leaving you feeling lighter. You didn’t realise how much you needed to breathe. Relieved would be an understatement—it was as if everything fixed itself in front of you. You didn’t generally consider yourself a lucky person, but today, you had won. The encounter with Spider-Man replayed itself in your mind, echoing his voice, reminding you of the proximity you shared.

After sending Caleb a quick text to let him know you got back safely, you began to cool down from the day. You tossed your keys on the counter and went straight for your room, determined to change out of your sweaty clothes. Since he was normally the one to cook dinner, you didn’t have to do much preparation in the kitchen. You put away the clean dishes, washed the leftover ones in the sink, and decided to tidy up a little. With your tasks done, you returned to the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a groan. Though you didn’t hold high expectations for what was on TV, you turned it on for background noise anyway, half-listening to the dialogue in the show that was playing.

The clock on the wall continued to tick. Caleb would get off work soon. You ended up smiling to yourself, excited to tell him about your day. Lying comfortably on the couch, you continued to passively scroll through social media to kill time. You were beginning to hear the telltale sounds of people returning home. The sound of a car door closing, your neighbour’s doorbell ringing, eager dogs overjoyed to see their owner home. Considering the traffic you’d seen earlier, Caleb returning a little later than usual wouldn’t be that irregular.

With that in mind, your worries were eased a little. But as minutes faded into hours, nighttime came, and not a single call or message from Caleb was seen. Worried, you sent him a text, only for them to be left on delivered. Calling him led straight to voicemail. Growing increasingly agitated, you called him again and again, only to achieve the same result. He always told you if he was going to be late. He always picked up after the first ring. But your attempts to get through to him went unseen, and it was getting harder trying not to sink into your anxiety the longer his silence went.

You paced around the room, fingers clutching your phone as the call went to voicemail again. Your eagerness for dinner had long dissipated and was replaced by immense dread. Worst-case scenarios were starting to appear in your mind, fuelling your panic with its increasingly violent visions. You chewed on your nail as you paced back and forth, trying to reach Caleb to no avail. The situation was growing more dire with each passing second.

You glanced at the time. It was three in the morning. You were wide awake on pure adrenaline and distress. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel tired. It was as though all of your senses were on high alert. Everything was too loud, too much, and your clothes felt rough against your skin. Instinctively, you made your way into his room and crawled into his bed, hugging his pillow and rocking back and forth. The smell of his detergent and perfume soothed you enough to have you breathing normally again. Your fingertips dug into the material, knuckles going white and shaking from how rigid your grip was.

The world started to feel less daunting when you finally calmed down. You felt exhausted, completely boneless. Your eyelids were getting heavier, and as you lay there surrounded by everything he owned, you found yourself falling slowly. The room is dim with only the city lights outside peeking in through the curtains. You felt a cold draft coming through the window, sending shivers running down your spine. Fabric rustled and you felt the mattress dip, immediately jolting you awake. A mixture of relief and fury washed over you.

“Caleb?”

His breath hitched.

You blindly patted the nightstand in search of the lamp switch. Once the room was illuminated, you squinted at him through half-lidded eyes. “Where the hell have you been?” you asked groggily. “I’ve been—”

Your eyes dropped to his outfit. It was the same suit that Spider-Man wore, although more torn and worn down. Whatever tiredness was left in your system dissipated when you saw him. You sat still for a few moments, trying to contemplate whether you were imagining things or if this was real. You didn’t know where to begin. It was as if time stopped. There he was, the person you had been waiting for, standing at the foot of the bed like a deer caught in the headlights. You stared at him with your mouth agape, your mind struggling to put the pieces together despite the obviousness in front of you.

You didn’t know where to begin. Did he always sneak back home like this? What happened to him? In the end, you settled for the most urgent one in your mind—

“How long have you been hiding this from me?”

He forced a smile, the gesture awkward and tense. “A couple of months.”

“Months?” you asked, voice rising in volume. “You’ve been—you—god, I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

You pursed your lips. “Come here.”

He tentatively complied, sitting down in the spot next to you. Your hands cradled his face, thumbs brushing over the bruises and making him grimace slightly. He didn’t say a single word. It was as if he was also dumbfounded himself. You were still upset, but the longer you looked at him, the more the anger faded. At least he was home. Injured, but still home in one piece. It was leagues better than the thousands of scenarios your mind was conjuring up earlier.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“I know,” he murmured, voice uncharacteristically meek. It was unlike the Caleb you grew up with.

“But it can wait,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I was worried about you.”

His arms wrapped themselves around your waist and he held you close to him, a shaky breath escaping his lips. He held onto you with a desperation you’d never seen before. He relaxed into your touch just the slightest, reassured by feeling your warm body against his. You pressed your cheek to where his heart would be, feeling its steady rhythm remind you that he was here—that he was home.

Your voice was meek when you spoke. “I thought you left me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So you decided with radio silence?” you snarked back. Something in his expression flickered, making you calm down once again. You frowned at the amount of bruises visible on his face and the dried blood on his split lip. Softening, you told him, “Go take a shower and get changed. I’ll patch you up.”

He didn’t argue. He only nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, walking sluggishly. The sound of running water filled the stifling stillness as you took a proper glance around the room. There was an evidence board, several open books, and a well-used first aid kit on the desk. Your heart sank. Just how long had he been doing this, getting himself hurt and having to mend himself? Didn’t he trust you? Why did he keep this a secret from you? You heaved out a sigh and hid your face in your hands, frustration and sadness simmering beneath the surface.

There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but this wasn’t the right time. Right now, all you could do was be there for him.

He emerged a handful of minutes later, dressed in comfortable clothes. You scooted over and patted the space next to you, lips pressed in a taut frown. Now that the suit was off, you could see the hits he’d taken more clearly. Splashes of blue and purple were scattered across his skin, some big and some small. There were a couple of cuts and scrapes close by, both old and new. It was the worst you’d ever seen him.

“Sit,” you urged timidly. You gingerly applied the ointment on his bruises, careful not to hurt him as he stared up at you. He looked so vulnerable and so fragile that it made you feel like your heart was going to burst out of its confines. “Talk to me. Please.”

“It was Gran,” he said. “She made a serum. I didn’t know it until a few days later. I was stronger, faster… I could hear everything. I could feel everything.”

“How come I never knew this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m supposed to be your hero, remember?” He laughed in a self-deprecating way, avoiding your gaze. “I had to stay strong. Figure things out, get stronger… Make sure you’d always be safe.”

Setting the first aid kit aside, you pulled him into your arms once again. He held onto you tightly, fingers grabbing the fabric of your shirt so tightly that his hands were trembling. You raked your fingers through his hair and brushed them back, keeping them away from the wounds on his face. For a moment, it felt like there were only the two of you in the world. All you could hear was his quiet breathing as he latched onto you, unwilling to let go.

It broke your heart to see him this way.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t rely on me.”

“No, that’s not it,” he sighed. “I’d go through anything for you. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t keep any secrets from me anymore.” You pulled away. He looked up at you with a pained expression, years of secrecy and isolation making themselves known in his glossy eyes, the quiver of his bottom lip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded weakly.

“I need words, Caleb,” you said, your voice firmer than intended. You cupped the side of his face, feeling him clasp your hand with his own, warm and calloused. “Can you promise me that?”

“I can,” he exhaled shakily. “I promise.”

The tears you were holding back brimmed at the corners of your eyes, small droplets sliding down the sides of your face. A hushed whimper broke out of you. Caleb held on to you like you were his lifeline, refusing to let go for even a split second. The gravity of his words weighed heavy, as did him baring his heart. He melted in your embrace, sinking deep into your comfort as you gently scratched his scalp, easing every worry he was holding.

“Don’t lie to me again, okay?” you murmured into his ear.

“I won’t anymore. I swear.”

—

Though months seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, the emotional turmoil stayed deep in your heart the entire time.

Life had turned completely upside down. With the new knowledge of him being Spider-Man looming over you, you were having trouble placing yourself. Some days, you felt excited and happy for him. He was more open with you when it came to his successes. He’d tell you about the petty criminals he caught or the passersby he helped while swinging through the city. He was passionate about his identity as Spider-Man, and he was committed. You wanted to support him in every step of the way. Some days, you’d feel like you were sinking. You previously didn’t worry all too much when Caleb returned home late, but since that day, fear and anxiety kept you company on lonely nights.

He didn’t always return looking completely beat up. Sometimes he was unscathed. Sometimes it was just a couple of bruises. But you hated being home alone, especially in the dark where everything seemed to get much worse. You were losing sleep because you’d stay up to wait for him to come home. You needed to see him with your own eyes, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep in peace. He tried to give you estimated times to soothe you, but it didn’t always work. You’d wait in the living room, rock yourself back and forth as you wondered if he was coming home.

Your mind wouldn’t let you forget that he lied, either. You already forgave him a long time ago, but you remembered. You’d question yourself, question him, and what would come after was an overwhelming sense of guilt. He was trying. He was more open. He was showing you an important part of himself, bringing you along with him on his journey, yet doubts still lingered in your mind. He kept his cheerful disposition, constantly reassuring you that everything was going to be fine, but your mind was filled with what-ifs. What if he was hiding more from you? What if he was lying? What if he thought of you as a burden?

It was irrational to feel this way. You knew that very well, and yet, you still felt like you were fading out of his life. You talked to Caleb normally, interacted with him like you always did, but something felt different. It was as if he was drifting further and further away from you. Your outstretched hand, desperately trying to reach him, and his fading silhouette. Everything had changed. You felt like you were losing him in real time and there was nothing you could do about it. Everything had changed, yet it was all the same. You still had breakfast together. He still picked up the phone after the first ring. He still smiled at you, looked at you like you were his whole world. You were teetering between security and uncertainty. You didn’t want to feel this way, but you were helpless. These feelings came by themselves, and the more time you spent alone, the more difficult it became to ignore them.

Your sentiments towards Spider-Man had only grown stronger with the knowledge that Caleb was him. His name was more well-known in the city, growing popular among kids and women, and he was constantly being praised by the press. You supported him. You had total faith in him, trusted in him and his strength. But sometimes you’d stay awake stressing about how safe things truly were. More fame meant more notoriety among criminals, and you’d often wonder how long it would be before something drastic happened. You wanted the best for him, you really did, but something guttural gnawed at you. The desire to keep him to yourself, the need to protect him. You wanted to sink your teeth into his flesh, to keep him in your maw. You wanted to hide him away somewhere only you knew.

You dreamt of it sometimes—of risking your life for him just to keep him safe. You constantly wondered if things would be easier for him if you left. You knew there was much that he wasn’t sharing with you yet. You knew it would take time regardless of how much he trusted you, Still, you felt as though you were being kept in the dark. Being Spider-Man seemed to be so easy for him. It suited him, even. You couldn’t see anyone else doing the same thing that he did. But you didn’t know what you were meant to be. You felt for him very deeply, as did he, but the vagueness in the air bothered you more and more every day.

Were you only being selfish?

You thought back on one of the mornings you spent with him. A full spread of breakfast lay across the table and the news played in the background. The sun was shining bright, peeking through the gap between the curtains, and the weather was good. But there was a sense of foreboding that loomed over you, one that you couldn’t keep to yourself. You called his name softly, leading him to look away from the screen.

“Are you okay?” you asked. He blinked at you, confused by the question.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Somehow, it wasn’t enough.

“Are you okay?”

You didn’t know.

“I’m good. Sorry, I just thought you looked a little distracted.”

The lie slipped out of you with ease. You felt childish. You felt burdensome for needing reassurance from him that he wasn’t going to leave you behind, but you could never bring yourself to say it. Between your pride and the overwhelming fear of rejection, the words you desperately wanted to stay would remain within the confines of your mind. He didn’t seem to be convinced by any means, but he didn’t push the matter. A part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t a fight. There was nothing wrong. Even when he returned home blood and bruised, exhausted out of his mind, you took care of him with love and care. It didn’t matter that you didn’t understand why he was risking his life. Caleb never broke his promises or broke away from the path to his goals. He wasn’t about to let you stop him. With great power comes great responsibility, he said. But was this responsibility thrust upon him, or was he doing it out of his volition?

You hated feeling helpless. You knew he didn’t need you to do anything, but you felt like you weren’t an integral part of his life anymore. You felt like a bystander, like someone he was slowly forgetting. You shouldn’t feel this way. You should feel happy that he still cared about you, that he cared about the city to give his all into protecting it, yet your mind just wouldn’t let you. Your thoughts on Caleb hadn’t changed. You still thought he was the most important person to you, but what used to be admiration and even love for Spider-Man was turning into resentment little by little.

Some days, you hated him. You felt like a little kid without her favourite toy. You felt like a lonely child in a class full of people. You knew it was useless to dwell on these things, so you tried to occupy yourself. You put all your effort into your studies. You kept yourself busy doing chores even on the days when it was his turn. You didn’t wait to eat dinner with him; you went out for food and drinks with your friends, came back a bit later than the sunset. It wasn’t as if he’d notice. He wasn’t home when you needed him to be.

His name was constantly trending on social media. Spider-Man rescues bus from hijackers. Spider-Man stops bank robbery. Spider-Man comics and merchandise releasing. His name became the talk of the town, earning the attention of the rest of the country. The newfound fame kept him even busier to the point where people were starting to dig deeper into his true identity, leading fans and investigators to wait outside your home. You kept ignoring them, but they were persistent. Your declining of their questions only made them more curious. Not only did you feel like he was slipping out of your grasp, but also like the safety of home was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t his fault. You couldn’t blame him for it. But sometimes you wondered if he knew just how much this was affecting you, as self-centred as it seemed. The satisfaction you expected from uncovering the truth about Spider-Man never came. The final piece of the puzzle was right in front of you, living and breathing under the same roof as you were, and all you could harbour was disappointment.

What Caleb was doing was major. He was keeping the city safe—keeping his home safe, for you and everyone. You found yourself sinking further into guilt and bitterness, the light at the surface growing smaller as you fell deeper and deeper. It was childish of you to be throwing a tantrum over something like this. So, you decided to grin and bear it. He understood you like the back of his hand; doing the same to him was the very least you could do. You pestered him less about his missions, stopped trying to call again and again when he didn’t respond. He’d always come home, even if it took days. He never broke promises. He promised he wouldn’t.

If he noticed the change in you, he didn’t mention it. His actions, however, said otherwise. He did his best to pay more attention to you. He tried to spend as much time with you as he could despite your conflicting schedules. He listened to everything you spoke about, promised you to be careful when you asked, and continued to protect you in his own way. You didn’t know exactly what it was that seemed to switch the dynamic completely, but at a certain point, you were no longer drowning in the pool of negativity. The sun seemed to shine brighter, the flowers in full bloom, and your cheeks ached from how much you’d been smiling. The lingering sense of foreboding faded into nothingness, replaced by pure optimism and trust. The future didn’t feel so glum anymore.

You supposed all you needed was time.

Time to heal, time to process everything. Time had a way of turning wounds into scars, healing phantom pains into a comfortable stillness. The claws that had your heart in a death grip had loosened, letting go of the chains they wrapped around it. You felt lighter, happier. Some semblance of normalcy had returned—as normal as it could be considering his dual life, but you weren’t going to take it for granted. You felt like you could finally breathe after being underwater for so long. Even here, where you were alone in the apartment, you didn’t feel lonely. It was… normal. A relief. It didn’t feel so suffocating anymore.

It was quiet save for the sound of your nails tapping against the keyboard. It was a sunny afternoon. Having had a productive morning, you aimed to finish the rest of the day in the same way. You were focused and determined to finish the essay quickly so you had more free time. But as the hours went by, that determination waned, and you found yourself at a dead end. You blankly stared at the blinking cursor on the word document. It almost felt like the thing was mocking you. Fatigue and boredom were catching up to you increasingly quickly. You knew the material by heart. You knew what you wanted to talk about. Yet no words came to mind—you were drawing a blank, and the thoughts in your mind were already drifting off elsewhere.

The counter was littered with snacks, surely something Caleb would chide you for. Your tumbler was long empty, left with nothing but melted ice cubes at the bottom. The dishes awaited cleaning in the sink and the TV remained turned on, playing a rerun of some generic soap opera. Defeated, you closed the word document, eyes drifting to the window beside you.

Outside, the skyline was painted in hues of orange and blue. Birds flew over the horizon, ready to migrate elsewhere for the upcoming spring. Your chest rose and fell with your exhale as you let your mind wander. You used up your creativity for the day, you thought. You haven’t made significant progress on the essay since you started it a few hours ago. Before you could beat yourself up about it, three loud knocks were heard from the window. Caleb’s masked face peeked over the wall as he gave you a gentle wave. Giddy, you got off your chair and skipped over, fingers deftly undoing the lock on its doors. You slid it open, allowing him to crawl in.

“I thought you were busy fighting crime,” you teased, watching as he took the mask off. His hair was tousled and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. “Are you slacking off?”

He huffed, amused. “I can multitask.”

He unhid his hand from his back and handed you a large bouquet of sunflowers, the gesture immediately making you melt. Flowers weren’t that out of the ordinary. Caleb liked bringing you gifts and trinkets he thinks you’d like. You got an equally large bouquet during your high school graduation and another one when you were accepted into university. You took it with a smile, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ and curiously looking at him. He bounced on the heels of his feet, seemingly nervous about something. His brows knitted together.

“You okay?”

He met your gaze. “Do you still think Spider-Man is better than me?”

You blinked a few times, confused. From the way he said it, it appeared that it wasn’t the first time he thought of something like this. You chuckled and crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to the other leg.

“Getting jealous of yourself, Caleb?” It was your turn to be amused. “I never said he was my number one hero.”

“You never said I was your number one hero either.”

You sighed in mock exasperation. “Why is this important? You’re the same person.”

“I just wanna know,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

“First of all, that happened once,” you corrected, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Second of all, I love you. Spider-Man or not.”

His lips curled into a smile. “You love me?”

Warmth blossomed across your chest, rising all the way up to your cheeks as your lips parted in surprise, sputtering incoherent syllables. You awkwardly turned your head away, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Love had never been discussed, not really. It just felt like an unspoken commitment since you were children. He was the most important person to you, and you were the most important person to him. You never really thought about labelling your relationship.

Your eyes widened when you remembered you always referred to him as your partner whenever you spoke of him to your friends. You already gave it a label without realising it. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, struggling to come up with a reply. You could feel his gaze on you, hear the satisfaction and mischief in his words. Clearing your throat, you tried to compose yourself and decided to follow through. You couldn’t take it back anyway, and even if you could, you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. I do,” you said, feigning indifference. “I thought you knew that.”

He couldn’t stop the smile from expanding into a grin. A breathless chuckle left him. His cheeks seemed to be getting even pinker as he fidgeted in his spot. He scratched the back of his head with flustered giddiness, struggling to keep eye contact with you. You didn’t think you ever saw him this shy. He was always your brave hero Caleb, the same boy who held you when you had nightmares, the same boy who held your hand when the thunderstorms got too loud. He was the same boy who defended you from bullies and got into trouble for getting into a fight with them. He was the same man who held nothing but affection in his words for you, the same man who would fall into playful banter with you.

You sighed softly, the corners of your lips twitching up. “You’re not gonna say it back?”

Though he didn’t need to, there was still a hint of insecurity in your tone. You looked at him expectantly, still watching as he tried to maintain composure. You weren’t used to seeing him this way, but you thought you could learn to do it. It made for a rather nice sight.

“I love you too, pipsqueak,” he finally said.

You beamed at him, placing the bouquet on the counter before leaping into his arms, delightfully laughing when he caught you effortlessly. You looped your arms around his neck and hooked your chin on his shoulder. Your legs were wrapped around him, your body supported by his arms around your waist. He held you as if you were as light as a feather. He nuzzled into your hair, letting out a content sigh. The air felt so light, so carefree. The remnants of your worries disappeared into the air, replaced by pure joy and unbridled affection.

“So… What’s the plan? Are you done with the day?”

“I’m going back to work. They need me,” he replied. With a jovial tone, he continued. “But I’ll be back for dinner.”

“You mean it this time?” You pulled away, searching into his eyes for honesty. You were still prone to worrying. His vigilante lifestyle was full of unpredictable moments, so it consistently kept you on your toes, leaving you unaware of what to expect. You were desperate for his words to be true. You felt as though you’ve been away from him for way too long. You craved his presence, his warmth—you craved him.

He gave you a boyish smile. “Yeah. I do.”

And that was a promise.

[jcmarchi]

Steven Strang, literary scholar and leader in writing and communication support at MIT, dies at 77

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/steven-strang-literary-scholar-and-leader-in-writing-and-communication-support-at-mit-dies-at-77/

Steven Strang, literary scholar and leader in writing and communication support at MIT, dies at 77

Steven Strang, a writer and literary scholar who founded MIT’s Writing and Communication Center in 1981 and directed it for 40 years, died with family at his side on Dec. 29, 2024. He was 77.

His vision for the center was ambitious. After an MIT working group identified gaps between the students’ technical knowledge and their ability to communicate it — particularly once in positions of leadership — Strang advocated an even broader approach rarely used at other universities. Rather than student-tutors working with peers, Strang hired instructors with doctorates, subject matter expertise, and teaching experience to help train all MIT community members for the current and future careers becoming increasingly reliant on persuasion and the need to communicate with varied audiences.

“He made an indelible mark on the MIT community,” wrote current director Elena Kallestinova in a message to WCC staff soon after Strang’s death. “He was deeply respected as a leader, educator, mentor, and colleague.”

Beginning his professional life as a journalist with the Bangor Daily News, Strang soon shifted to academia, receiving a PhD in English from Brown University and over the decades publishing countless pieces of fiction, poetry, and criticism, in addition to his pedagogical articles on writing and rhetoric. 

But the Writing and Communication Center is his legacy. At his Jan. 11 memorial, longtime MIT lecturer and colleague Thalia Rubio called the WCC “Steve’s creation,” pointing out that it went on to serve many thousands of students and others. Another colleague, Bob Irwin, described in a note Strang’s commitment to making the WCC “a place that offered both friendliness and the highest professional standards of advice and consultation on all communication tasks and issues. Steve himself was conscientious, a respectful director, and a warm and reliable mentor to me and others. I think he was exemplary in his job.”

MIT recognized Strang’s major contributions with a Levitan Teaching Award, an Infinite Mile Award, and an Excellence Award. In nomination letters and testimonials, students and peers alike told of a “tireless commitment,” that “they might not have graduated, or been hired to the job they have today, or gained admittance to graduate school had it not been for the help of The Writing Center.” 

Strang is also remembered for his work founding the MIT Writers Group, which he first offered as a creative writing workshop for Independent Activities Period in 2002. In yet another example of Strang recognizing and meeting a community need, about 70 people from across the Institute showed up that first year.

Strang is survived by a large extended family, including his wife Ayni and her two children, Elly and Marta, whom Strang adopted as his own. Donations in his memory can be made to The Rhode Island Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

[prettieinpink]

MAKING YOUR PHONE TO BE INTENTIONAL

MAKE A VISION BOARD WALLPAPER. Create one that aligns with your goals and dream self, so that every time you pick your phone up, you’re reminded of your goals and future vision. Also, great for manifesting! 

KNOW YOUR APP’S PURPOSE. For me, tumblr is a way I share advice and learn, YouTube I also learn from others, pinterest I get inspired, netflix is a way for me to unwind etc. If for any app, you cannot name a proper purpose/intent to use it daily or to help with your goals, delete it. 

DECIDE WHICH TYPES OF APPS YOU WANT. If you have a new phone, or you want to completely reset your phone, write or type, the apps, that you want and those you don’t. 

E.g I want to learn a language, practice mindfulness on the go, get some mental gratification that isn’t addicting, organise my life better and have a way to track my progress. I don’t want apps that support doom-scrolling, make me compare myself and are addictive. 

BE MINDFUL OF WHAT YOU SIGN UP TO. Newsletters, social media, subscribing to YouTubers and so on, just think about your goals and vision and if they align with them, every time you think about signing up/subscribing. 

HAVE NO PHONE TIME/ZONES. For me, my phone is not allowed to be used in bed. If I must use my phone, I have to get out of bed first. My phone is also not allowed during study time, so I put it in a separate room which makes it inconvenient. 

REGULARLY DO A DIGITAL DECLUTTER. Delete any old contacts that you don’t talk to, unsubscribe from newsletters and YouTube channels, organise your socials etc. Removes space and helps us to see our phones with more clarity. 

SET PURPOSEFUL WIDGETS. These can be anything, motivational quotes, your daily to-do list, reminders of your habits and so on. However, make sure you’re looking at them and they're not just taking up space. 

[vixen-academia]

Free MIT online courses that sound interesting

Arts & Literature

Introduction to World Music

Reading Fiction

Literary Interpretation: Virginia Woolf's Shakespeare

Introduction to Photography

Foundations of Western Culture II: Renaissance to Modernity

Studies in Poetry - Briths Poetry and the Sciences of the Mind

Studies in Literary History: Modernism: From Nietzsche to Fellini

Screen Women: Body Narratives in Popular American Film

Studies in Poetry: "What's the Use of Beauty"

Queer Cinema and Visual Culture

Monteverdi to Mozart: 1600 - 1800

Writing and Experience: Reading and Writing Autobiography

Advanced Topics in Hispanic Literature and Film: The Films of Luis Buñel

Major Authors: Rewriting Genesis: "Paradise Lost" and Twentieth-Century Fantasy

Arthurian Literature and Celtic Colonization

Contemporary Literature: Britsh Novel Now

Studies in Poetry: 20th Century Irish Poetry: The Shadow of W. B. Yeats

Writing About Literature: Writing About Love

Introduction to European and Latin American Fiction: Great Books On The Page and On The Screen

Popular Culture and Narrative: Use and Abuse of the Fairy Tale

Victorian Literature and Culture

Reading Poetry

English Renaissance Drama: Theatre and Society in the Age of Shakespeare

Introduction to Fiction

International Woman's Voice

Major Authors: Oscar Wilde and the "90's"

Prizewinners: Nobelistas

American Authors: American Women Authors

Shakespeare, Film and Media

Japanese Literature and Cinema

Woman's Novels: A Weekly Book Club

Classics of Chinese Literature

Major English Novels

Topics in South Asia Literature and Culture

Introduction to Literary Theory

History & Social Studies

American Classics

The Middle East in the 20th Century

Africa and the Politics of Knowledge

The Rise of Modern Science

European Imperialism in the 19th and 20th Century

Philosophy of Love

Human Rights: At Home and Abroad

The Nature of Creativity

Introduction to Comparative Politics

Riots, Rebellions, Revolutions

Introduction to the History of Technology

Ancient Philosophy

Youth Political Participation

[gamora-borealis]

I think dan and phil are special but not because they are special people. like don't get me wrong, they are extremely talented and creative and funny and phil does seem to have inherited some kind of special intuition from his northern grandma but! there's a million other queer / neurodivergent people out there just like them... just as talented and intuitive or whatnot. what's special is that they were in the right place / right time to broadcast this unique kind of existence on a mass scale to a broad audience but more importantly a kindred audience. and they've kept it authentic by balancing their entertainment personas and working relationship with their real selves. It's like we've been watching a reality tv series about them for 15 years except they are the producers (who maybe exaggerate some things like producers do but, it's their own choices)... and they never meant for the show to make money but it did so yeah they need it to maintain their lifestyle now but in general their intentions are less clouded by clout or success compared to some influencers/creators out there. What's special is the insane parasocial relationship we have with them and they have with us that truly is a product of a specific context that I don't think will ever quite exist again. They learned from the first YouTubers and mastered the art form to the point where they are able to go on these huge tours that to this day no one can top because YouTube and the Internet have changed far too much with algorithms and advertising and etc. They are a testament to the lost dream of what the internet could be and a showcase of what can happen if you give gay dorks the perfect ingredients to build a media empire. and as a result we know them so intimately as they truly have been open about so much over 15 years and yet they've still kept so much private, to the point where there's still so much that people speculate on. It's like the perfect case study for Web 2.0 media produsage and digital community building amidst the decline of in-person connections because of the progression of capitalism... anyways if by chance there are any phannies getting degrees in media and communications and need help with paper topics and writing please hit me up I'm yearning for grad school again 😭

[love-byers]

i had the misfortune of ending up on mileven tiktok by accident and found some gold

dude. how many times do we have to say its not the fact that they're standing next to each other. its the fact that they're standing next to each other when all the other characters are paired off with their significant other with significant space between them. they are SANDWICHED between two couples that they have numerous other parallels with. like you have to be playing dumb if you think we're just saying byler is endgame because they're in the same proximity. and WDYMMMM MIKE ISN'T EVEN LOOKING AT HIM why does that matter?? the whole point is that they're all looking forward at the fucking apocalypse beginning. nancy and jonathan weren't looking at each other, joyce and hopper weren't looking at each other. why does that matter?? and holy shit watching them try to analyze media is hilarious. the byler commenter was very concise an respectful and ofc the mlvn has to be backhanded. no, the 2 minute scene of mike saying i love you is not random, it's actually meticulously crafted so that we're able to tell mike is lying...

uhh because WILL IS THE MAIN FUCKING CHARACTER OF SEASON 5 AND THE WUOLE POINT OF AN ENDING SHOT OF A SEASON IS TO FORESHADOW THE NEXT SEASON???

do they think we're making this up???

he is the center and lead of season 5 and his arc is going to tie the whole series together. but nah they just paired him with mike and left him in the background on the hill just because el needed to be in front. they could've done a million other set ups where it actually comes off that mike and el are a team and in love and want to work together. they could've had those couples together and then had will alone or behind them and done a close up like they did with el in the actual scene, but no, he had to be with mike. and not only is he with mike, he and mike are paired off together and CENTERED. the CENTER of season 5 is CENTERED in the final shot of the season and he is standing with his long time best friend who he is desperately in love with. and all of this is foreshadowing for season 5, which if you've forgotten, is all about connection and finding belonging with others.

"People talk about mythology and The Upside Down, and all that is huge, but the magic of S5 are the characters who find a sense of belonging with other and through that connection, become heroes."

"[Season 5] It's about a group of people who question their value, who find each other, and who find superpowers in connection."

remember when mike beat himself up and questioned his value as a person because he feels weak and powerless and stupid next to el and then will gave him a painting where mike is a literal knight in shining armor and and confessed his own feelings about how mike holds everything together and makes him feel like he's better for being different and gives him the courage to keep fighting and how he'll always need mike and that finally made mike feel reassured

yeah...

alright you guys have to be lying. you can't think of a single reason why people would ship byler?? not a one??? you know what actually, you're right. why on earth would people ship two characters where one is canonically in love with the other, they've been best friends since the first day of kindergarten, they are always a duo, they have a special friendship compared to the others, one said asking the other to be his friend is the best thing he's ever done, one thinks home isn't the same without the other, they hold hands, put their arms around each other, always look out for each other, etc etc ETC. no yeah i don't see it

was the person who confirmed this named mike wheeler...

no yeah we just say random things. those of us using the knowledge we gained in film school/creative writing school to analyze a form of media are just saying random things. i just love making shit up!

mlvns are so silly lol like they really think they know more about film/writing than people who STUDY IT AND DO IT FOR A LIVING

[maxdibert]

They butchered all female characters and it's true, but people can simply don't like Sansa's chapters or don't enjoy her character because she's classist. She thinks bastards are beneath her in earlier chapters and in Alyanne. She's disgusted by Arya spending time with Butcher boy and other peasants because they're beneath her.

I'm not saying she's s bad person or the worst one or that we should blame her for being passive while being hostage. She's a kid, she's s victim, she can still have a positive change. but I'm reminding that saying people are misogynist because they don't like her is a reach. And it's not that people hate her, they just point out things she did or thought about in canon and her fans scream "you hate her! You hate women!" No. It's okay to not like a character, you can point out their flaws, it doesn't make you a mysoginist.

Oh, trust me, the issue isn’t that people simply don’t like Sansa—it’s why they don’t like her and the patterns that emerge when you look at how traditionally feminine female characters are treated in fandom discourse.

See, I don’t care if someone criticizes Sansa for her classism. That’s a valid discussion. I don’t care if someone dislikes her personality. Not every character is for everyone. But let’s not pretend that the dominant criticism Sansa gets in fandom spaces has ever been about her early prejudices. No one’s out here writing essays about how Sansa Stark needs to deconstruct her internalized feudal biases. What do we see instead?

“Sansa is useless.” “She’s weak.” “She’s stupid.” “She just stands there and does nothing while other people suffer.” “She should have done something.”

And that’s where misogyny enters the chat.

Because when you actually break these takes down, what they boil down to is that people resent Sansa for not being proactive in the way that they think a strong female character should be. She’s written as a character whose resilience is passive rather than active, who survives through adaptability rather than aggression, and fandom hates that. This is a known trend in media reception.

Feminist film and literature studies have examined this bias for decades. De Beauvoir discusses how femininity is traditionally coded as passive, and because of that, it is devalued in comparison to traditionally masculine-coded traits like physical strength, direct confrontation, and assertiveness. Susan Faludi discusses how women who embody traditional femininity often face more ridicule than those who adopt “strong” or “unconventional” roles. And the male gaze, as theorized by Laura Mulvey, conditions audiences to respond more favorably to female characters who are active participants in traditionally masculine-coded spaces—combat, strategy, direct rebellion—while dismissing those who navigate systems through softer, less immediately visible means.

Sansa fits this mold perfectly. She does not fight with a sword, she does not make grand speeches, she does not take direct violent action, so fandom deems her “useless.” But here’s the catch—this standard is not applied equally.

Think about how Tyrion is treated for his ability to navigate the political landscape through words rather than force. Is he called “useless” for not picking up a sword and charging into battle? No—because intellect and political maneuvering, even when nonviolent, are still considered active and thus valuable in a way that Sansa’s more passive survival is not.

Now, compare Sansa’s treatment to Arya’s. Arya is beloved in fandom spaces, and yes, she has her own set of haters, but notice how different the tone of that criticism is. Arya is rarely called “useless.” She is rarely ridiculed for being afraid. She is allowed to be traumatized, to make mistakes, to be messy and complicated in ways that Sansa is not—because Arya performs a more masculine-coded form of resilience. She fights, she kills, she runs, she rebels.

And just to be clear, none of this means that Arya’s arc is bad or that her popularity is undeserved. The problem isn’t that Arya is liked—it’s that traditionally feminine resilience is not. The issue is that Sansa is not disliked because of her flaws in isolation, but because those flaws reinforce her femininity, and femininity is what people are actually responding negatively to.

This is why calling Sansa hate misogynistic is not a reach. It’s not about saying that everyone has to like her. It’s about looking at the larger pattern of why she is dismissed, why she is mocked, and why so many people cannot accept a female character whose form of strength does not align with masculine-coded ideals.

So no, I’m not saying that every single person who dislikes Sansa is a raging misogynist. But I am saying that if your criticism boils down to “she’s useless, she’s weak, she’s stupid,” you should probably examine why those specific critiques keep coming up for female characters who embody traditional femininity. Because it’s not a coincidence.

[nadvs]

Hello! Im the anon who asked for a fic with rivaly at college 😍 OMG! I love what this turned in to. You are an incredible writer!! I hope you know that. You have me hooked. You write dialog amazingly. It feels so real. Never stop writing!!

Can you write something about when she get jealous? Maybe when he is in the NBA?

Hope you have a great day!

Love from Sweden

HIII omg it’s such a good premise!! i remember being in love with it the second i read your ask 🙂‍↕️ thank you so much 💘 i’m so touched that people like the au and want more of it 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe can get wildly, intensely jealous. and while they often joke about how similar they are, that’s one trait she doesn’t share with him. until he gets signed and moves away.

he doesn’t have as much time for texts and calls. he’s training with his new team, working up to the season. she gets it. or at least, she tries to.

she already had unwelcome thoughts swimming in her head when he had been signed to a team states away about him getting lost in the fame and potentially being unfaithful. she never worried about him cheating before. and she hates that she’s doing it now.

but she tries to keep it in. things between them are already tense. accusing him of something just because she’s insecure isn’t fair and will likely just push him away.

then, she visits him. they share their first i love you’s. they’re in a good place.

but when the season starts, that’s another story. it’s surreal seeing her boyfriend play on tv on such a massive scale, thousands of seats surrounding the court filled. she’s so happy for him and whenever the camera focuses on him, she can tell he’s nervous and she loves that she’s the only one in the world who knows it.

but then between periods, she catches glimpses of his team’s cheerleaders before the cuts to commercial. and she can’t lie to herself that these girls are beautiful. and she wonders if maybe he already lived out the college fantasy. maybe now that he’s a professional player, he’ll have his eyes on professional cheerleaders. or really, any girl, because she’s sure he could get any girl he wants.

as the season goes on, because she likes to keep up with the nba on social media, specifically him and his team, her tiktok automatically shows her videos and edits of her boyfriend, some comments from fans about how he’s the next best thing, but most from girls going crazy over how hot he is.

it puts her into a funk. he sees gorgeous cheerleaders at every game. he gets comments on his instagram from beautiful girls. the internet is losing their mind over him. how can she possibly compare?

so, the next night she’s on facetime with him, she can’t hold it back any longer. after they talk about their days, she starts to pick at a string on her shirt, looking down.

“so…” she says. “do you ever get a chance to talk to the cheerleaders?”

rafe looks at her with knitted brows. she’s been off since she picked up the phone, seemingly mad at him. it’s not like them to not be direct.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“nothing,” she lies. “just wondering if you ever talk to them. they’re good dancers.”

he hates the way her lips are turned into a frown, her eyes off the screen.

“i only wanna talk to one cheerleader and she’s pretending she’s not mad at me right now,” he says.

this earns a smirk from her.

“they’re all so pretty,” she says. “i’m not blind. and you’re not, either. there’s no way you haven’t noticed them.”

“i moved here to play,” rafe tells her.

“and you know girls online are going crazy for you,” she continues. “don’t act like you haven’t seen all the comments on your instagram.”

rafe studies her image on the screen.

“you know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” he says. he hates to admit it, but it’s kind of flattering, especially because she isn’t usually the intensely jealous type. it shows him she still wants him.

she sighs. of course he sees right through her. not like she’s being subtle anyway.

“i do, though,” she says. “and maybe it’s stupid to talk about because i’m annoying you and making you feel like i don’t trust-”

“you’re not annoying me,” he interrupts. “you’re being really cute, actually.”

“cute,” she scoffs, her eyes still low.

“look at yourself on your phone,” he says. she rolls her eyes and obliges, gazing at her reflection on the screen.

“now what?” she mumbles.

“if you can’t see how beautiful you are, maybe you are blind,” he says.

“stop,” she laughs softly. “it’s not that i don’t trust you. it’s just that… it has to feel like a waste to be getting all this attention and ignoring it all because of some girl back home, doesn’t it?”

“some girl,” he echoes. “you think you’re just some girl?”

she shrugs. his chest aches.

“you’re my best friend,” he says. “i wouldn’t fuck this up for anything or anyone in the world. you’re it for me.”

her vision blurs with tears. she flattens her lips together and finally nods.

“sorry,” she says weakly.

“for what?”

“for being so jealous.”

“i already told you it’s cute,” he says. she smiles again.

“i love you, okay?” she mumbles.

“i love you, too, okay?” he teases.

they talk for another hour, then she tells him she needs to go to sleep so she’s not totally exhausted for her morning lecture. he has the day off the next day, so he stays up a bit longer on his phone after they hang up.

when she wakes up, she sees hundreds of instagram notifications on her phone. rafe posted a photo of them from the last time she visited, tagging her with the caption: All I need.

before she even gets out of bed, she’s crying. because of how good he is to her. because he’s telling the world he belongs to someone already. because she’s sure that he loves her just as much as she loves him.

[phenixa]

A FloRid Analysis using science (but only at the beginning)

I would like to preface that post by saying that I am not a biology -or scientific- expert at all. I am a humanities major -more specifically a foreign languages one- who just happen to have developped a huge hyperfixation on Twisted Wonderland, its story and characters. And it so happen that FloRid is my OTP. So, brainrot happened.

The hyperfixation and brainrot went so far that I started to hoard facts about octopodes and eels here and there, reading scientific papers written by biologist when the last time I had a science class was like... In first year of high school (en 2nde, pour mes amis francophones)

Okay, so. FloRid. Floyd and Riddle. One of the most appreciated ships in the twst community, being the 4th ship with the most fanfics on Ao3 (with 727 fanfics when I’m writing these words), just behind KaliJami, MalleYuu and RookVil (in this order). I saw a lot of people discussing these two with varying degrees of media literacy (I see you, who claims that this ship is “problematic” because it is a bully x victim ship.). And while I really like to read all of those takes (except the bully x victim one. You’re missing the point sweetie by saying that) and I wanted to add my two cents on that matter.

A while ago, back in September 2024, I stumbled on a twitter thread on FloRid. I can’t find it again, too far back, sorry for that. Basically, what the thread was about, was that Floyd’s interest in Riddle spawned in the fact that Riddle is red, and red doesn’t exist underwater.(see photos below)

It isn’t really that red doesn’t "exist" in aquatic environments, moreso that the wavelength for that colour is absorbed by the environment not that deep (around 6 metres underwater for those (like me) who use the metric system). Oh, by the way, if someone has an explanation of why the hot pink is still as vibrant that deep, I would love to hear that !

So basically, red starts to "disappear" around 6 metres deep, and is completely black around 24 metres deep. It is, let’s be honest, not that deep, especially when we compare to the depths of the ocean.

In fact, red "disappears" in what is called the epipelagic zone - or sunlight zone - the first level of the ocean (see photo below). Which is interesting since, in our world, all species of moray eels live in that zone. And, as it is well known, the Tweels are based on moray eels (possibly Green Moray Eels if we follow the colour scheme of their characters), so, in our world, they would live not that deep below the surface (at depths down to 40 metres (130ft)). Which isn’t true in the game, as it is mentioned multiple times that the Coral Sea is deep below the surface.

As we can see on the picture, the Sun won’t go deeper than 1,000 metres (3280ft) below the surface, and the Octatrio mentions once or twice that there’s no sunlight where they come from. On the wiki, we can read :

"It is said to be very dark and cold and has a smaller population than countries primarily inhabited by humans"

Twisted Wonderland wiki, World, Locations, Coral Sea

So, where am I heading with that ? Well, did you know that Moray eels can’t see colours ? Indeed, in a research done in 2011 by researchers of the Tawain Ocean Research Institute as well as the Sensory Biology Laboratory of the Academia Sinica in Taiwan, simply named "A comparative study on the visual adaptations of four species of moray eels" , the researchers have proven that the four species of moray eels studies are colourblind. They, in fact, can only perceive green and its shades/tints, meaning that, even if it was possible to perceive the colour red underwater, Floyd, in his eel form, wouldn’t be able to see it.

There is a technical side, one that shows that moray eels only have one type cone cells (cells present in our eyes to process colours) in their eyes, to explain this colour blindness (in comparison, human beings typically have three types of cone cells : red, green and blue). The only type of cone cells moray eels possess, as I mentioned earlier, is the green one. The closest example we, as humans, can have regarding this sort of colour blindness is the red-green colour blindness (here, "protanopia"), or the complete bolour blindness ("monochromatism")

(if you can’t see the difference at some point, I have some news for you...)

Basically, in the aquatic world, everyone has protanopia since red isn’t perceived, but moray eels are monochromastics since their eyes can only process greens. (Can I add that the colour palette for tritanopia is really pretty ?)

In the game, it is mentioned multiple times that Floyd couldn’t perceive red at all before coming on land. And the best example is the Stitch event (aka the FloRid event. There’s so much content on these two inside) where Floyd explicitly says that red looks black underwater.

"Colours look a lot different underwater. It only sticks out ‘cuz it’s on land. A red like this would look black in the deep sea where we’re from. You’d barely be able to tell it apart from a rock."

Twisted Wonderland, Stitch’s Tropical Turbulence chapter 3-2-3 "Sparkling in the Sand"

Here, Floyd only presents the fact that the wavelength for red is absorbed by its environment. He says nothing on the fact that he and Jade are supposedly completely colour blind (and just. Basically blind since moray eels are famously known for their shitty vision) before taking their potions. And we have seen time and time again that both twin’s vision and perception of colours on land is pretty good. Just the fact that Floyd can note how red Riddle is, as well as how he was able to see him in a crowd during their orientation (or just how he is able to see small details here and there), is a good indicator of that change between their life in the sea and their life on land. Would it have been funny, and really interesting to make the Tweels colourblind on land ? Yes. Yes it would have been amazing. But alas, I love my two chaos junkies the way they are and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Where did I want to go with that ? Well, if it wasn’t obvious already, I think that Floyd’s interest in Riddle spawns from the fact that Riddle represents something inherently new for Floyd.

When you think of the colour red in regards of twst, you would think of Riddle at some point. I mean, the guy is in the red dorm, his hair is red, he gets red from rage really easily (and the colour usually associated with rage is red), he’s based on the Queen of Hearts, the red queen... Oh and his element in his dorm Uniform card is fire. Red (even if we can completely debate over the fact that fire IRL tends to be more orange than red). That’s a lot of red for a 160cm tall guy, don’t you think ?

Oh, and Riddle was the first person to send Floyd flying, as highlited in Floyd’s Beans Camo vignette.

"Y’know, back at my orientation, a guy way tinier than me used magic to blast me through the air. All I did was razz him a little, and he just SNAPPED. His face was so red, it was almost like he was on fire"

"There weren’t many guys stronger than me under the sea. But here ? This school is crawling with people like that."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Beens Camo Vignette,"Nowhere Near the Best" Part.3

If it isn’t said outwradly that the "guy way tinier" than Floyd is Riddle, is it easily understandable from the whole Beanfest event, with Vil telling Epel that Riddle and Floyd had been at each other’s throat ever since their orientation (while adding that every orientation he lived had something disrupting it. What happened during your orientation Vil ? I want to know !), we can also undertsand that the guy was Riddle with Epel’s reaction, stating that "Vil wasn’t kidding about what he said before", referencing Vil’s words.

Oh, and, wan we talk just a second about the groovy of that card ?

In the vignette, this scene happens between the two quotes I used (the tiny guy sending Floyd flying and the fact that Floyd’s pretty strong). Let’s be true five seconds, trying to not look with a shipping lense through that.

WHO LOOKS LIKE THAT WHILE TELLING THAT KIND OF STORY ???

I mean, even while taking Floyd’s persona and character as a whole into account, that’s just the face someone makes when sharing a good memory with a loved one, or someone they’re proud of (my own twin makes that face when they talk about their -adopted- children).

And I even went to ask friends of mine about that face, without telling them the context just "okay, what do you think is happening right now ?" and (without taking into account that one friend who made a lousy joke) the majority of them just answered "he’s ogling his crush". And I mean. Yeah... Yeah that’s definetly the face someone would make when watching their crush. (after telling the whole context, the first answer I got was "Yeah no, he’s masochistic" and I can’t really go against that...). Most of those convo where in French and in between is littered more private convo so I won’t give you any screenshot of that, just know that my friends -some of which aren’t even in fandom spaces- are just as unanimous than I am. That eel is down bad.

On my first draft for that document, I spent a whole 10 paragraphs on their orientation, going as far as trying to explain that Floyd’s interest in Riddle wasn’t firstly based on his hair colour, nor really on his size, but on his strength. I won’t go as deeply into details as in my first draft, but let’s just be clear on that point.

It is said multiple times -as well as shown- that students are expected to wear their hoods during orientation. We see that during the prologue as well as during most Ceremonial Robes vignettes that takes place during (or diretcly after) orientation. For example in Epel’s vignette, we see him and Vil wearing their hoods up, and it is mentioned once or twice by the Savanaclaw guys that they have to keep their hoods up during orientation (which brings them a lot of problems, seeing that the hoods aren’t made for their ears). So, in no world would have Floyd seen Riddle’s hair colour before his altercation with Riddle. His interest first spawned because of Riddle’s magical strength. And the fact that our little guy became housewarden only one week after orientation cemented that interest. I mean, someone that strong ought to be interesting, no ?

Oh and, I won’t go into details here, since it’s not on NA server already, but during Floyd’s dream section, and from what I understand from a reddit post explaining the Octatrio dreams, Floyd starts to remember reality after Silver mentions what really happened during their orientation, with Riddle sending him flying. Ooooh I can’t wait to see that part on the eng server ! More info pleaaaase.

Another point of interest of mine is Floyd’s nicknames. They are based on people’s characteristics, whatever that characteristic may be. For that, Vil is Betta since betta fish are renowed for being beautiful, Ruggie is sharksucker since he’s (literally) sucking off of Leona. And Riddle is Goldfish(ie) (in the sense that officially Floyd calls Riddle "Goldfish" but everyone in the fandom ended up calling him "Goldfishie").

Some points on Goldfish here. First of all, despite their name in English, Goldfish in the modern world tend to be more red than gold-coloured (in French they are called "poisson rouge", literally "red fish" for that fact), but they also are an invasive species once released into the wild. Oh and they are mostly kept as pets by humans.

And, who was kept as a "pet" most of his life by someone, is famously red, and once he was "released" into the world acted somewhat invasive in the life of other people ?

At the time of giving Riddle his nickname, Floyd wouldn’t have known what was going on behind closed doors (or maybe he knew, with Jade fetching information on anyone and everyone for Azul, it’s a possibility) but I find that really funny that Riddle’s nickname suits him on more points than him being small and red (I’m putting once again the screenshot of Floyd saying that, but it’s the exact same one as the one I put at the very beginning of the analysis)

(to think that I took this screenshot a when I first started playing...)

I’d like to point out that this is the first -and only if I’m not mistaken- instance of Floyd explaining the reasoning behind one of his nicknames. While I saw him name other characters here and there (with this specific card, he names professor Trein at one point in his Home Taps) he never goes to length to explain the reasoning behind a nickname. And to be honest, the reason behind this screenshot was to go scream at my friends that he’s completely unpromted. Riddle just spawns in the conversation out of the blue. And, I mean, when you’re interested in someone/something, you usually find a way to include them/it into the conversation. Especially when you’re neurodivergent.

And we come to my next point : Floyd’s neurodivergence.

The boy has ADHD. Is it canon ? Well, it’s not said clearly but it is shown in some points. ShoujoISM made a really good video on that matter some time ago, and that video explains my own point of view on the subject really well, so I won’t go into that many details here. But, if you’re not really interested in watching a 52 minutes long video essay (which, let’s be honest, with the attention span of our generation, would be completely fair), I’ll try to summarise as fast as possiblie with just that sentence : Floyd checks most of the points of diagnosis for ADHD in the DSM-V-TR.

As a fellow ADHD-er with a huge hyperfixation on mental illnesses, I tend to have fun seeing if some characters check the boxes for some diagnosis I headcannon them to have. And, after watching that video, I opened my version of the DSM-V-TR (yes. I have a pdf of that book.) and checked myself every criteria for ADHD and... yeah, no, he fits into the boxes so well. And with the prevalence of neurodivergence in the cast (especially depressive characters), it wouldn’t be extrapolation to say that when Yana created Floyd, she had ADHD in mind.

One of the main points of ADHD is hyperfixation (aka, what is driving me to write fanfic and analyses of those characters) and hyperfocus. And Floyd is shown having periods of hyperfocus. Like that time he hyperfocused on learning how to dunk for 2 days straight. Azul even makes note of that in Floyd’s Tropical Wear vignette.

"My word... When you put your mind to something you want to do, your focus is incredible. I wish you could maintain that attidute when you’re on the clock"

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Tropical Wear vignette, "Flying Jellyfish", Part.1

Usually, a period of hyperfocus can be a relatively "short" period of time, but it so happens that in people with ADHD, who usually struggle with this exact perception of time, hyperfocus periods can be counted as pretty long for neurotypicals, or neurodivergent people that don’t experience them. As someone who has lived through hyperfocus periods, time seems to just. Not exist, so for Floyd to spend two whole days trying to master a dunk just because it looked fun ; it doesn’t seem that long for me (as a personnal experience, I was once so engrossed and hyperfocused on a paper for uni that I spend more or less a whole week on that paper, skipping classes and everything else...)

And for me, Floyd has a sort of hyperfocus on Riddle. Not really in the sens that he can spend days thinking of him and do nothing else, but more on the sense that he can find the other in a crowd easily, and is just looking for Riddle really often. In Floyd’s School Uniform vignette, it is implied that Floyd looking for Riddle in the library is a common occurence, and it is shown multiple times in the game (in the main story as well as in events) that when confronted to a crowd, Floyd will find Riddle first. For example, in the scene at the beginning of Book 4 where everyone is in the Mirror Chamber, the whole Heartshackle gang is discussing, surrounded by literally the whole school, Floyd makes a beeline towards our group and the first person he talks to is Riddle. Same at the beginning of the Stitch event, when Floyd comes into the library and comes across our group, the first person he talks to is Riddle. Keyhole vision, this is what I call this.

And hyperfixation. You would mostly know what this is is you’re chronically online or in the mental illness side of social medias (especially tiktok). From what I experienced and what I saw with my ADHD friends, sometimes, hyperfocus is caused by a hyperfixation. And in the case of Floyd and his "I really want to learn how to dunk" mindset at that time, we can quite easily conclude that that state of hyperfocus was born from his hyperfixation at the time on basketball.

It is mentioned at some point in the game that Floyd’s interest is fleeting, meanning that even his hyperfixations don’t last that long (once again, from a neurotypical point of view). He kinda abandonned basketball at some point, still going to his club activities when he deems them to be interesting. But do you know what kind of activity he has deemed interesting for quite a while now ? Bothering Riddle. It has been a whole year (at the beginning of the game) since their first meeting, and this dopamine addicted eel is still looking for his Goldfishie. Because Goldfishie is interesting. Riddle keeps on being interesting to Floyd, the same way that Azul is. And, I mean, from what we can see when we see Azul and Riddle’s interactions with Floyd, they don’t seem to go out of their ways to entertain him, and act mostly "in character" for them (Azul being overly calculating and mumbling about the problems that Floyd causes and Riddle being quick to enrage). Yet, Floyd keeps finding things interesting with them. I mean, outside of Jade, Floyd stuck himself to Azul (and Riddle to some extent) the longest. So they must have something in them that makes them so interesting to him (I have a whole lot of rambling on Riddle and Azul since they’re my fav characters (along with the Tweels) so I get you Floyd. They’re really interesting).

And, in a way, Floyd seems to care on a deeper level only to the people he deems intereting (aka. Jade, Azul and Riddle). We can see his care for his brother in multiple ways, his care for Azul in Book 3 before Azul Overblots (really well depicted in the manga btw) and his care for Riddle is littered here and there.

First of all, begining of Book 4. Floyd (and the rest of the Octatrio) comes to meet us in the Mirror Chamber and... Proposes to Riddle to stay with him over the winter holiday ? My boy you’re really down bad you know that ?

Seriously, we can easily understand that Floyd realised that Riddle was hesitant to go back to his mother for the break, and his first reaction is not "well, you can always count on your friends, and go to them" (Trey even proposed !). No. His first reaction was like, welp, you can always stay with me. The way the chapters are made, Book 4 chapter 3 ends with Floyd’s interjection.

"What’sa matter Goldfishie ? Don’t wanna go home ? Then, there’s an idea : don’t. We’re not. C’mon, you can join us in the stay-at-school club. Heh heh !"

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

It’s literally the first two dialogues of the chapter. I didn’t go further, but Riddle gets irked by Floyd sticking his nose in his business and Jade chimes in to temperate things between the two. Floyd then retorts something quite interesting for me  :

"Aw, c’mon Jade. It’s boring spending every new year with the same old suspects. Besides, Goldfishie’s so teeny, I’m sure Azul would love to keep him as a pet !"

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

Riddle answers by becoming all red from rage and is really close to trying to collar Floyd. The rage is defused by Trey and the rest of Heartslabyul, but I’d like to point something quite interesting. In the end of chapter 3 (after having discussed with the Savanaclaw trio), Riddle is shown to be out of the loop, Ace and Grim making remarks on that note :

"Huh, he’s soundin’ kinda defeated."

"Oh, right. The housewarden’s got an extreme case of helicopter parenting waiting for him at home. No wonder he’s not enthused about heading back."

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 3 "Leaving for the Holidays"

We can more or less see the Heartshackle gang trying to cheer up their friend, but nothing seems to work. Until Floyd appears, makes a beeline for the redhead and angers him. And I mean, a reaction, even as "bad" as that one is still a better outcome than whatever he was feeling before. Even Trey notices it.

"Good grief. Well, at least he’s got his moxie back."

Twisted Wonderland, Book 4 "Schemer of the Scalding Sands", Chapter 4 "A Sendoff from Morays"

It is quite easy to see, with minimum media literacy at play, that what Floyd was doing was trying to ellicit a reaction -any reaction- from Riddle, in a convoluted way of, not cheering him up per say, but making him concentrate on something else, something that is not what hell would be waiting for him at his house. And he succeded. Any punishment he would have possibly faced hadn’t Riddle been stopped by Trey and Cater would have been fair game in his book (and he would have defused the spell either way).

I’m probably over analysing that but I can’t remember a moment in the whole game (in the parts I played at least) where Floyd is shown caring that much for someone. I mean, his words are the literal reason why Azul overblotted (I’m pretty sure that if Floyd hadn’t say what he said to Azul at that time, the overblot would have happened, yes, but a bit later if not at all). Floyd is the exact definition of not really caring outwardly for people ! But here, he is shown caring -in some convoluted ways once again- for Riddle who is clearly distressed about going back to his mother. And I found that the jab of keeping Riddle as a pet is somewhat sarcasticly funny. I mean, Riddle’s mother is treating her son like a doll, or a pet to train and show off. It shows, in some ways, that Floyd is aware of what happens in Riddle home life at that point in the story. Was it through rumors after his overblot, or did he piece the puzzle himself after havig seen Riddle’s reaction to going back to his mother’s during their first year ? We will probably never know.

What I also want to say by that, is that Floyd is deeply intelligent. Not just academically, but emotionally too. He’s probably the most emotionally intelligent guy in the whole cast, contrary to what he lets on (reminds me of Perceval in Kaamelott in some ways). He also possesses a really good sense of ebservation. Once again, in his Beans Camo vignette, he realises that if he lets Epel grow freely, the little guy might become a worthy opponent.

"I was gonna let him get a little roughed up to remind him who's boss, but hey. If I let Guppy keep swimmin', he might grow into a meal worth eating one day. I'll lay off him for now. After all, it'll be way more fun to crush him when he's strong and all sure of himself. Aha ha."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Beens Camo Vignette,"Nowhere Near the Best" Part.3

And I’m not sure if, at the time of the vignette happening, Epel has developped his unique magic. It’s possible, but not of good use since the use of magic is prohibited during Beanfest.

Anyway, his ability of perception (which I find quite funny since eels are famously known for having shitty vision) is also highlighted in my previous point. He realised, on his own, that Riddle wasn’t doing quite alright. No one told him "hey, your favourite ‘victim’ isn’t doing well", he just went to make sure that Riddle as okay on his own volition. And it’s not the first time something like that happens. Indeed, in the first halloween event, at the end of it, we can see Floyd caring for both Jade and Riddle. He forces the first one to stop working and sit down for a while, and he pushes the other to eat more. Here, it’s Floyd’s reaction towards Riddle that interests me, not because that post isn’t on Jade and Floyd, but more because it is prompted before Floyd’s entrance in the scene that Jade has been working a lot, while it’s never mentioned once before that Riddle hasn’t eaten enough.

"Psh. Teapot tyrant, meet kettle. You haven't had more than a couple'a nibbles yourself, Goldfishie. Even a real goldfish eats more than that. Aren't you a growing boy?"

"I'll have you know I consume my recommended caloric intake every day, without any excess or deficiency!"

Twisted Wonderland, "Twisted Halloween : Terror is Trending", chapter 5-7

A bit farther, at the very end of the same chapter, Floyd grabs Riddle and brings him to the buffet,       forcing him to eat.

"You got it! C'mon, Goldfishie!"

"I told you, Floyd— Would you stop tugging?! Argh!"

Twisted Wonderland, "Twisted Halloween : Terror is Trending", chapter 5-7

It is easy to understand that Floyd is used to Eating Disorders, especially considering he is friends with Azul, who is the reference in EDs in the cast (I mean, just see his backstory and read through Book 3 and you’ll have the big picture). Riddle’s ED isn’t the same as Azul’s, in the sense that it isn’t self inflicted, but ingrained in him. And for the sceptics, EDs aren’t just anorexia or bulimia. The fact that Riddle counts his calories and takes notes of every intake of food is very much a symptom of an eating disorder (this is another proof of Madam Rosehearts’ abuse on her son btw). And what does Floyd do ? he takes care of bringing Riddle with him to the buffet. Especially after seeing the reaction the boy had when cake was mentioned. Again, no one mentioned Riddle before Floyd intevened, only after that did Ruggie make a comment on that fact. (I also would like to point the change made to the idiom "pot, meet kettle" here. It’s funny as hell and shows a form of intelligence, because, being able to modify an idiom to one’s whims asks for a deep undertsanding of a language and its codes).

It was the last bit of trivia I had to analyse for the time being. At the time when I write these words, we only have 116 chapter of Book 7, so we haven’t encountered the dreams of the Octatrio yet, and even if I keep myself updated on what happens on the jp server I am not aware of everything that happens in details (I can’t read japanese for the life of me so I won’t play on jp server at all).

I realise that I have gone away from my first point of trying to analyse Floyd’s interest in Riddle using only biology and ended up doing a full-on analysis of FloRid moments... Oops...

So, let’s conclude once and for all that lit- *checks the word count* that analysis, shall we ?

While I think that Floyd’s interest in Riddle first spawned during their orientation (and his dream sequence gives us a hint on that matter), I think that Floyd’s continually renewed in Riddle isn’t just some sort of simple interest, but some form of infatuation. I mean. The anthology manga is there for a reason (even if its canonicity is debatable). We can see in various examples that Floyd cares for Riddle to some extent, the same way he cares for Azul (or Jade, but it’s not really the same form of care), and that his neurodivergence makes him hyperfixate on Riddle for some reason or another. I didn’t delve into my "theory" that Floyd might have some form of Bipolar Disorder because it hasn’t as much proof that it is here than the ADHD theory/headcanon, and it’s more a headcanon of mine than a fully fledged theory I have. Either way, it is clear that our moody eel is deeply attached to the teapot tyrant, and I think I was quite clear on that matter.

Now, and before I save this document and post it, I would like to talk about something. The "bully x victim" trope that opposants to the ship see. While I can understand the idea, I think it is not taking into account the numerous events where Floyd and Riddle are together. Sure, in the main story it is easily seen that Floyd has a favourite "victim" to his overly excitable moods, but a bully x victim would imply that Riddle isn’t able of defending himself. And he is. He just lets Floyd act that way because, whatever he will do, nothing would deter the eel. He is literally the guy that sent Floyd flying on their first day, for Samael’s sake ! And, I mean, Beanfest and the Stitch event do tell us a different story than "Riddle is a damsel in distress, victim to the whims of evil evil Floyd". Even in the halloween events  we can see that they -at least- tolerate each other. But, I get it, when the game fist came out in english (because I see that discourse more on western fandom spaces (thank you to my friend who acts like a translator for me to scroll through the jp side of the fandom)), people didn’t have any access to the second Beanfest event, even less to the Stitch event, and were only privy to Floyd’s School Uniform vignette and their interaction in Book 2. But right now, with everything we have for us, I think that this argument is just plain media illiteracy. You can say that I’m over analysing Beanfest, sure. But don’t come at me for things that are clearly said in the game (like the Stitch event or Halloween events). And please, by Demon’s law, let people enjoy their silly ships however they like. I’m not coming at you for liking a ship I don’t have a particular affinty to, to come at me and call me deranged for shipping what is just basically a Red and Blue ship.

Oh, and, last point before I close that document. At one point, Jade says something that stuck with me.

"Heh... As long as you’re enjoying yourself, Floyd."

Twisted Wonderland, Floyd Halloween Vignette, "A Big Fan of Pirates"

And we see Floyd having fun in most of his vignettes. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what this is. (Yes, it has nothing to do with FloRid, but I wanted to put this here since I love the Tweels and their bond.)

Welp. This is the end of that analysis. Thank you for reading all of that, it’s more than 5k words, and I did most of that at work. I have a lot of things to say about the Octatrio and Riddle (as people who follow me on my private instagram has been victims to. I literally yapped about twst for 3h30...) as well as on other characters.

If you’re interested in reading what I write, here is my Ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phenixa. At the time I’m writing these words there is only two twst fanfics (being FloRid) and a small dozen of Kingdom Hearts fanfics, but more twst is coming in the future. I’m currently working on a college!AU if you’re interested ^^

I finished vomiting my analysis, it is time to say bye !

[nurse-floyd]

Perfect The Way You Are

Carlos Sainz x reader

Anon request: Could you maybe write something for Carlos, where the reader is going through some insecurity issues (basically where she compares herself to the other wags or other women on instagram or other social media). And Carlos just comforts her and tries to help her through her insecurities. I’ve been having a hard time with that recently so I’d love to read this, thank you 🫶

Warnings: alludes to mentions of past ED struggles, body dysmorphia and low self-esteem/ self-confidence.

You walked beside Carlos, your hand clasped in his as you made your way through the busy paddock. You loved Carlos and were immensely proud of him and were his biggest supporter when it came to racing. Being with him made you so happy, yet the constant comparison online to the other WAGs, by media and fans as well as by yourself, slowly chipped away at your confidence every time you made an appearance at a Grand Prix. The other WAGs were effortlessly stylish, slender, and beautiful; all qualities you told yourself and believed you lacked. 

Carlos squeezed your hand a little tighter, noticing you were in your head lost in thought. His grip helped to bring you back to the moment and grounded you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern. 

“Fine, Carlos,” you forced a smile and nodded. 

He studied your face a little longer, knowing you too well to know you weren’t in fact fine, but he also knew better than to question it. You’d talk to him when you were ready. Carlos was soon whisked away for various media duties and last-minute preparations before free practice, which left you alone to your thoughts again. You sat in a quiet corner in the hospitality tent and watched the other WAGs in their designer outfits, their big beautiful smiles, and perfect hair as people asked for photos of them. The old familiar feeling of not ever being enough, of hating how you looked, crept in and gnawed at your self-esteem even more. All the thoughts you’d tried so hard to overcome so easily crept back in. 

You decided to head back to the hotel early, not wanting to stay around the paddock any longer. You messaged Carlos and told his team to let him know you weren’t feeling well and headed back. You followed the last free practice and qualifying on your laptop, glad to have watched how well Carlos had done. You tried to ignore the other news flashing up with shots of the other WAGs; your Instagram feed was also full. There were photos of you, and you saw all the fan comments, but the only ones that stood out to you were the comparisons, the hate comments, and it only intensified the thoughts you’d been having all day. That evening when Carlos got back, you were already asleep. He quietly closed your laptop, climbed into the bed beside you, and held you close. The next morning, when his alarm went off, you lied, telling him how you still didn’t feel well. 

“Okay, mi amor. Stay here and rest, okay? Make sure you eat something and drink lots today,” he placed a kiss on the side of your head before he got ready and left for the day. You logged onto your laptop just to watch the race but spent the rest of the day in bed sleeping. 

Carlos found you in the same place he’d left you that morning. He sat on the bed beside you as he ran his hand through your hair, “wake up, Mi vida,” he called softly. 

You grumbled awake but smiled at having him back by your side. You sat up and pulled him into a hug. Despite showering and changing before he came back to the hotel, you could still smell the faint scent of champagne in his hair. “Well done today, baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate.” 

He kissed the side of your head and held you a little tighter, “I missed you today. How’re you feeling? Have you eaten or drank anything today?” 

You knew there was no point lying to him, and you’d been caught out despite your promise earlier that morning. He ordered room service before climbing into the shower to rinse off the rest of the grime from the day. The thought of eating anything was terrifying in that moment, but you knew you weren’t going to get off that lightly. 

You were glad of the two-week break before the next race. The days following that weekend, the feelings only intensified. You hadn’t felt this bad about yourself in years, and you weren’t entirely sure what had triggered you so badly. The mirror became your worst enemy; the body dysmorphia only intensified your feelings and distorted your reflection into someone unrecognizable. Urges long past began to resurface as you slowly and so easily found yourself slipping back into old destructive habits. 

Your boyfriend noticed the changes. He saw how little interest you had in things you used to enjoy, how you pushed your food around your plate, and how you missed gatherings with the other drivers and WAGs during the break. Your once vibrant personality was dim, the smile not quite reaching your eyes. A few nights before the next race, after a day spent training and in media and promotion duties for Ferrari, Carlos found you on the balcony of your hotel alone, staring blankly out at the sparkling lights of the city as night drew in. 

He took the seat next to you and wrapped a protective arm around you. You leaned into his embrace and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Hi,” he said softly. He chewed on his lip for a moment before he pushed, knowing he couldn’t take no for an answer anymore. He wanted to help and support you in whatever way you needed. “What’s going on, amor?” 

Tears threatened to spill as you finally felt the walls you’d built up around you come crumbling down. You wiped at your eyes with your sleeve as you prepared to spill everything. “I…I’m not good enough for you, Carlos. Compared to the other wives and girlfriends, I’m just so…plain. I’m not pretty enough, I’m not thin enough, or as fashionable.” 

Carlos’ heart broke as he saw you so sad, so broken. He pulled you in tighter to his side and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “I want you to listen to me,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “you are and have always been enough. You are the most beautiful person in the world to me, inside and out.” 

You scoffed and shook your head in reply, no longer caring to wipe away the tears, “I see how they look. I see what the media and fans say and how they dress. I can’t compete.”

Carlos gently placed a hand on your cheek as he pulled your face to look at him, “you do not have to compete with anyone. I love you and only you. Your kindness, your compassion, and love. I love you for more than your looks, even though to me you are the most beautiful person in the world.” 

You let out a small laugh. Carlos’ words and the love and honesty you saw in his eyes helped to finally break through the self-doubt that had been plaguing your mind. “I can feel myself slipping, and I’ve fought so hard to overcome all of that. I thought I had overcome all of that.” 

“You’ve got through it once before, and we’ll get through it again,” he promised, “you’re not alone, y/n.” 

Carlos was your rock the next few days. He listened to you as you vented, encouraged you to talk to him when he saw your mind wandering, and showed you just how much he loved you and how much you meant to him in more ways than one. 

You weren’t fixed, far from it, but as the next race came along, you walked through the paddock with his arm around you with your head a little higher. With Carlos by your side, it didn’t matter if another WAG wore an outfit more stylish than yours or their hair was fixed more perfectly because you had him. Carlos’ love and support were all you needed in that moment and reminded you that you were more than enough exactly as you were.