#and puts me into meltdown territory

[lichbutch]

hhhhHHHH

[emoryinaboat]

(CW for tics, stims and trichtotillomania in tags, TW blood mention)

reblog and put in the tags how you fidget during uncomfy social situations

[sunkissedrafe]

enemy!rafe >> doesn’t really hate you but fucks you like he does!!

mmm wait this is so yummy

he does everything he can to make your life a living hell. spreads little white lies about having his way with you knowing damn well you hate his guts and wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. all his boys at the country club only get his side of the story, the one where you bend to his every demand. telling them all how slutty you are. of course when the two of you interact and they see you rolling your pretty eyes in his direction he brushes it off with a “she’s just mad i didn’t give her any dick last night. girl was damn near blue in the face beggin’ me.”

he’s always in your way, always doing anything he can to get a rise out of you.

anytime you step into tannyhill to meet sarah and he hears your sandals smacking against the floor he saunters down the stairs with a grin. sometimes it’s putting things he knows you’ll need on the highest shelf so that he can sneak a peek at your ass when you’re on your tiptoes, your frilly little sundress working in his favor as it rides up. “need some help?” he casually strolls up, hands resting on your waist like it’s nothing. like he can’t feel the anger boiling in your blood.

“no, get the fuck away from me.” you huff and let your heels hit the ground with a thud, and he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s eyeing your tits as they bounce. he doesn’t really care if you think he hates you, all he’s thinking about is the way you’d look laying across his bed for him, pretty eyes rolling in the back of your skull as he fucks you into the mattress.

“fine, get it your damn self.” he walks away but not before giving you a little tap on the ass.

he loves getting under your skin and watching your face as it fills with anger. in a twisted way it turns him on. he knows for sure that you think he’s your sworn enemy, but he really doesn’t have anything against you. you’re just his sister’s hot friend.

he knew it was just a matter of time before you cracked and flew off the handle at him, pounding on his chest and squeaking out every insult under the sun after he ran off a guy you’d finally planned a date with. your little meltdown falls right into his lap, right where he wants you to be. “never wanna see your face again, rafe. GOD you’re such an asshole!” your manicured nails claw at the fabric of his polo shirt.

your brain goes all fuzzy and short circuits when his veiny hands wrap around your wrists with a squeeze hard enough to bruise the skin, his jaw clenched and his eyes dark. “never wanna see my face again, huh?”

you saw plenty of it that night while you bounced on his dick whining and crying to cum. he does a really good job playing the part of the enemy, treating you like a little toy as he lifts you by your hips and fucks you like a fleshlight. “see, just like i told the guys. beggin’ me. for what?” he pants and cocks his head to the side. “all for some dick? little fuckin’ slut.”

definitely cums on your face and takes a picture for safe keeping. you feel degraded, ashamed that you let a man that “hates” you do something like this. ashamed that you want more. he feels like he’s marking his territory.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88 @mousie101 @laniirackssss

[cryptias-space]

I finally finished it!

Welcome fully to the world, human Lord's in Black!

My favorite design is probably Blinky and Tinky. The only one I'm not 100% happy with is Wiggly. I wanted to give him more detailed tartan pants but I just gave up. He has Christmas colors though, I thought it was funny. Nibbly having tanlines was a completely random choice. I think him having a bagel in his mouth gave me too much Aoi Asahina vibes and I was compelled for the tanlines lol

The story so far is that Webby got tired of her brothers wreaking havoc and decided they needed to see how hard it is to be human. She sent them all to Hatchetfield, with Wilbur Cross in toe to keep them in line, as human teenagers. She left Wilbur a book of everything they need to know, including new names and semi new human forms. Along with these new fully human bodies comes with human issues, like disabilities and mental health issues. (AKA more headcanons I can force onto them lol)

Individuals and more info under the cut

First up and shortest at 5 foot 4, Nibblenephim.

Nibbly is now named Nikolai Phillips, or Nicky for short. He is the only one of the LiB to have been put in an AFAB body due to his genderfluid identity and more feminine leaning nature. He does not mind this at all.

When Nicky goes to school he decides on joining the Culinary club, desperate to learn how to cook since Wilbur is so garbage at it. He is constantly being hit on by everyone at school and he takes advantage of it to make them take him to Pasqualli’s to get free food.

With Nibblys design I wanted to steer away from the classic Hairstyle. Everyone has his eyes covered, and while I do love that design so much, it would get in the way of his cooking and it isn't practical. I personally hc him as genderfluid and afab so I had to do it to him lol

The "human issue" I'm giving Nicky is ADHD and really bad memory issues. This is going to cause people to tease him for being dumb and while he jokes back about it, the teasing does get to him.

Second in at 5 foot 6, T'noy Karaxis.

Tinky is now named Tobias Kelly, or Tobi for short. Despite being 18 his goatee often makes people think he's older.

Tobi joined band, specifically as a trumpet player (iykyk), as well as joining the robotics club. He spends most of his time clinging to Peter Spankoffski and breaking into Theodore Spankoffski's home and workplace. He is constantly getting in trouble at school for being a class clown.

With Tinkys design I was going for a sort of extremely simple pastel goth or harajuku. Originally I wanted to give him way more of a Decora fashion but I didn't want him to look too complicated. He compulsively buys and plays with rubicks cubes (the colors are supposed to reference the Spankoffski brothers) also, notice the Tobi ♡ Peter friendship bracelet... Peter won't wear his lol

The "human issues" I'm giving Tobi is Autism and BPD. I feel like Tinky being autistic in any way makes sense, so Tobi is autistic with a special interest in puzzles and electronics (and the Skankoffski's but he won't admit that). With extremely sensitive ears and autism, he tends to have meltdowns often. And these meltdowns tend to be in public, causing people to judge him and think of him as a child. The BPD comes in with quick changing emotions, Ted and Pete being his favorite persons and getting extremely jealous and territorial. (I have BPD so I had to force this on him lol)

In the middle and completely average at 5 foot 10, Wiggog Y’Wrath. (He says he's 6 foot)

Wiggly is now named Waylon Webb. An obvious reference to the Waylon's and a painful reminder that Webby is the one who did this to them.

Waylon joined the chess team and quickly became the best player, and the leader. He also ran for student council president and won. He used his siblings skills to make sure he won. He bribed the student body with Nicky's food, annoyed the competition with Tobi's trumpet playing, and took amazing campaign photos with the help of Benjamin (Blinky). Percy (Pokey) refused to help him.

With Wiggly's design I wanted to go very simple and stick with the letterman jacket he had in NPMD. However... I had to give him red pants, I needed him to be Christmas colors lol I wish I spent time to figure out how to do his pants but alas, I am dumb. He wears the crown all the time, and it often gets stolen by Max Jägerman to tease him for being short

The "human issues" I'm giving Waylon is NPD. He views himself as better than everyone, save for a few specific people he views as equals. He struggles with self esteem and even if he would never admit it, what others think of him really matters. He often goes into crashes if the people around him ignore him too much, and he will go into highs when he gets too cocky. When he's in one of these crashes, Waylon gets extremely depressed and either isolates or desperately seeks attention. (I also have NPD so I had to force this on him lmao)

The second tallest at 6 foot 1, Bliklotep.

Blinky is now named Benjamin Thomas, or Benji for short. While he does have a face, his eyes being green if you're curious, he almost always has a phone or camera in front of his face.

Benji joined the photography club as well as the school newspaper. He writes almost exclusively gossip columns but the school eats it up. He does however take amazing photos for his siblings when needed, and also seems to have a strange obsession with amusement parks. Speaking of strange obsession, much like Tobi, Benji is often breaking into the CCRP building, but no one is quite sure why. Whenever asked he just says "an old friend" works there.

Blinky is my favorite design of the group I think. I knew I wanted him to be kinda feminine and lanky, but not as feminine as Nibbly and not as twink body as Pokey. His eye motif worked so well for the overalls and I feel like I managed to make eyes and overals not feel like The Minions lamo I also love the orange hair with the purple in it. The boots are supposed to be the knee high convers but in all magenta. I should have added the white on the toe but I forgot lol

The "human issues" I'm giving Benjamin is Hallucinations. I'm not knowledgeable enough to specify what disorder he has that's causing them, I'm leaning towards Schizophrenia, but again, I don't want to label it until I do more research. He often sees, hears, and feels things that aren't there. Most frequently he sees creepy, disembodied eyes surrounding him. When he hears things he often covers his ears and shouts to get them to go away, causing people to stare at him, which only makes him panic. His tactile hallucinations are almost always the feeling of bugs on and under his skin. (This is the type of Hallucinations I deal with so I had to force it on him lmao)

And lastly but definitely not least, the tallest of the human Lord's coming in at 6 foot 3, Pokotho.

Pokey is now named Percy Martins. He is the tallest and also has the deepest voice of the siblings.

Percy joins the drama club, obviously. He actually manages to get roles despite being a new student. He spends almost all his time in the auditorium practicing for auditions or the roles that he gets. Surprisingly he latched onto Richie the same way that Tobi latched onto Pete. Percy constantly asks Richie if he can come over to his house, and seems to know a surprising amount about Richies uncle. Just like Tobi and Benji, Percy is also constantly breaking into the CCRP building. When asked he will say "his muse" works there. He also has a deep seeded hatred for coffee bur refuses to elaborate on why.

With Pokey's design I wanted it to be comfortable but also elegant. To me he's giving Howl from Howls Moving Castle lol I was really determined to give him locs and honestly? I think I did a really good job for my first time! He has little jewels hanging out of them and also has his own mask as a necklace. The cane is very functional for him, but he definitely should have a different type of cane, possibly a different aid in general but he refuses to use the others because he thinks they're not fancy enough.

The "human issues" I'm giving Percy is chronic pain, POTS, and autism. The POTS and pain is what makes him need the cane. He often has to sit or lie down because of how light headed he will get. Also, he always has lots of water and salty snacks in his bag. He's autistic, special interest in musical theater. He has really bad sensory issues with textures, and much like Tobi, gets easily overstimulated. However, unlike Tobi, when he gets overwhelmed to any degree, he goes non speaking. This is really annoying to him, as he loves the sound of his own voice and hates not being able to speak. This causes him a lot of distress, which only makes him more overwhelmed.

That's it! I'm really proud of these designs, and I really hope to keep writing this fic idea. I love these fuckers so much

[superblysubpar]

🥺 so um for your dad blurbs, what about like a lil ‘meet cute’ sitch with singledad!eddie x singlemom!reader. maybe their lil toddlers become friends on the playground or somethin’?? idk idk feel free to ignore me!! 💗

cece um what? why why why would I ignore you or this?! Sorry this one too got away from me, I can't seem to write teeny tiny blurbs guys. Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you like it! 💛dad blurbs

summary: see above Eddie deals with his daughter throwing a tantrum but - this is fluff warnings: single mom reader, descriptions of wiggling worms and reader touching them so if you ain't into bugs sorry | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is - please respect this

1.5k words

Why Do Worms Exist?

singledad!eddie munson x singlemom!reader

Hands tugging at his curls in impatience as he juggles the backpack, the keys, the twelve leaves left in his custody and the angry toddler in his arms. 

“Down!” she tugs harsher and he huffs. 

Haircuts and baths seemed to be the only time his kid felt like reminding him that she was in fact his kid. Squirming and wrestling and shrieking loud enough the glass on the apartment windows could pop. He was grateful for his daughter, don’t get him wrong. Reminding himself whenever the demon possessed her during those moments that she’d be his quiet and wonderful kid again soon. 

But no one could have predicted that walking and exploring and learning would hit around the same time as Autumn in Hawkins - well okay, maybe someone else could have other than him. But no one, including Eddie could have foreseen that his unique and already quirky baby girl would be fascinated by any and everything that season had to offer her. And, really, how could he have predicted the meltdowns about these things when he told her she couldn’t take them all home with her?

Fucking leaves. 

And worms. Why’d his kid have to like worms? 

Maybe that was his own fault for calling her Bug. Were worms bugs? Were they their own…species? Jesus Christ he barely got his diploma and now here he is with a kid having a level thirteen meltdown about leaves. What happened when she got older and had questions about these things she found fascinating and he had nothing to offer her? Maybe Dustin would have a book on it. Or Robin. She’s into weird stuff and random facts. 

Eddie sucks in his breath as Sam yanks one curl particularly hard and realizes that if it’s bad now, the very near future of Spring would be even worse. And oh god, the rain and the mud and even more worms and his heart starts racing faster as he thinks about how much bigger she’d be come then. She’d put up even more of a fight. 

He finally gets the pack over his shoulder, the keys tucked safely in a pocket. Sammy’s butt supported under his arm and his hand with the leaves wrapped around her back. Twelve leaves - they’d barely made it down the sidewalk. 

She pushes against his chest, cheeks red and flushed to match her bright red rain boots dangling and kicking dangerously close to unwanted territory and he winces, “Hey, hey, watch it Bug. Getting too close for comfort there.”

Eddie knows she didn’t catch any of that and her tiny hands wind fists into his hair and her chin wobbles as he prepares for the wail to come and he squeezes his eyes shut. Only to be met with fiercer squirming and a head butt to his jaw that makes his ears ring, “Ouch! Sammy, come on, you can get down soon!”

He didn’t yell, but he definitely raised his voice more than he meant to. Sam cries and cries like he’d seen other kids do when heading in the opposite direction of the park. As they round the corner he can see the bright reds, yellows, and blues of the slides and jungle gym.

“Look, Bug, swings,” trying and failing to calm her down with a favorite word and activity. He sighs as other parents look his way as he gets closer. Sure, his kids shrieking was disturbing the peace but theirs screaming on the playground was fine. Gossiping and judging girls from high school who grew up into moms but didn’t outgrow anything else.

He sits on the bench as Sammy pulls and yanks more, closing his eyes again. Eddie presses his forehead to hers, wincing every time she hits against it. He speaks quietly, “Bug, come on, listen to daddy. Calm down.” 

He sets the leaves on the bench and the crying stops almost instantly. He opens his eyes, Sam’s temple to his nose, crocodile tears trailing down her cheeks and tiny chubby hands reaching towards the pile. 

“Leeb,” she hiccups and grabs at the pile. 

Eddie holds her in a firm lock, hand rubbing soothing circles up and down her back, “Leaf?”

She grunts, trying to squirm away again and she whines, “Pwease!”

Heart aching because she’s trying to say please, and she knows that’s the nice way to ask as she calms down. But god, he can’t have her bringing home every leaf from the park.

“Bug,” he taps the pile, “Leaves stay here. Not coming home with us. Leaves stay outside.” 

She huffs and he watches in wonder and awe as she nods and whispers, “Owside leebs.”

He grins. He did it. He dealt with a tantrum while judgey moms watched and his daughter is smart. She understood so much and she was probably gonna be a scientist or some crazy awesome shit he couldn’t even come up with. 

Eddie kisses her nose and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs, body relaxing, “Right. Outside leaves. Ready to go play?”

She shimmies out of his grasp, legs dangling until her boots hit the ground and she wanders toward the playground only to pick up a stick. Poking at the dirt and he covers his smile when she sits. Her plaid jumper and tights dragging and collecting all the dirt and leaves they can manage. 

A little boy sits next to her and she smiles at him, a dimple popping out and extending a stick to him like Eddie had taught her to share. He swallows harshly when she grabs his hand and they waddle to a particularly muddy puddle. 

Oh fuck. She’s gonna get even older and the meltdowns aren’t gonna be about fucking worms they’re gonna be about boys or drinking or-

“You look like you’re dealing with some extreme and sudden realizations right now.”

Eddie glances up to see you standing near his bench, smiling kindly and a cup of coffee in your hands. He’s taken aback one because an adult is talking to him instead of standing off to the side and judging and two because holy shit were you pretty. 

He gulps audibly, “I-uh,” he glances back at his daughter who’s fully laying in the dirt on her stomach now and he smiles, “Yeah, uh I guess you could say that.”

Gesturing to his kid and the little boy, “I see yours is corrupting mine. Believe it or not we’d managed to stay away from dirt until today.”

Eddie grins widely, “Well wait till he finds all the things crawling around in the dirt and wants to take them home.”

Your gloved hand presses to your cheek, dragging it down as you groan loudly, “Why do worms exist?”

He watches you watch the kids, your face melting into warmth and that sappy wow that’s mine look he knows he gets with Sammy all the time. He’s a goner if you’re single. 

Gesturing to the bench and scooting over he sighs, “Pretty sure only to torture parents.”

“Great. Can’t wait,” you deadpan and sit, removing your gloves and extending a hand to him and introducing yourself.

Just because there isn’t a ring doesn’t mean anything. He shakes it back, “Eddie.” 

Nodding your head to the little boy who’s flinging dirt around wildly with his stick, “That’s Parker. My right hand guy.”

Eddie straightens and sees the webs across the backpack you’re stuffing the gloves in and smirks, “As in Peter?”

Clearing your throat and taking a sip of your coffee before continuing, “Yeah, I’m shameless. I named my kid after my favorite superhero, okay? I was alone and drugged up on all the painkillers they could legally give me.”

Alone. 

He waves his hand, “It’s okay, mine's after a Lord of the Rings character.”

You smile at him, shy and sweet. He should just ask right? Or offer up his own information. Is it like just sharing your phone number with a girl? Hey, I’m Eddie, I’m a single parent are you? Not sure what’s about to come out of his mouth, but he’s stopped as his daughter decides she wants to be the worst wingwoman on planet earth right at that moment. 

“Hole pwease,” her tiny voice brings his attention down, extending her dirt smothered hands out to you.

Your mom instincts kick in, holding out your hands like it’s nothing but Eddie knows exactly what Sammy is about to drop in your hands. He’s not quick enough when he leans forward though, 

“No, Bug, don’t-”

Several squirming worms drop down into your palms and he watches your eyes go wide. You don’t freak out or grimace though, instead you smile and extend your hands out further when your son drops more into the pile. 

Your smile is bright, cheeks popping and eyes shimmering and your laugh swirls around his heart as you speak to them in a way that makes his stomach flutter, “Woah you guys! Look at all these awesome worms!”

He watches in awe as you ask their names and sit patiently with wiggling worms in your hands as they point and poke at them and his daughter holds one up closer to your face and your eyes go wide and she giggles.

He’s a total and absolute goner. 

[jubileemon]

Hazbin Hotel: Poison Song

The song became controversial due to the visuals that accompany it were seem as portraying the topic of sexual abuse in an insensitive and some sort of sick fetish, but not from Angel Dust's perspective. Let me explain:

Valentino's Obsession and Control

Valentino's behavior towards Angel extends beyond professional boundaries, crossing into personal and sexual territory. His obsession with Angel Dust is evident in his relentless pursuit and control over him, which includes forcing himself upon Angel Dust and engaging in non-consensual acts. The series does not shy away from depicting the grim reality of such abusive relationships, challenging the audience to confront the severity of these issues.

Angel's inability to break free from Valentino's grip is symbolized by a contract that legally binds him to his abuser. The series hints at the possibility of escape, suggesting that the contract's dissolution could be the key to the sinner's liberation. However, the power to terminate this contract lies with Valentino, leaving Angel in a state of limbo and dependence.

Coping Mechanism and Self-Destruction

Angel was bound by a contract to Valentino, faces a harrowing existence under his dominion. Valentino, who is both Angel Dust's employer in the adult film industry and his abuser, employs gaslighting tactics to keep Angel Dust in line. The series showcases the psychological impact of such abuse, with Angel Dust being subjected to poor mistreatment and threats that leave him feeling trapped and hopeless.

Angel Dust's coping strategy involves substance abuse and self-sabotage, hoping to become so broken that Valentino will lose interest in him. This tragic approach to dealing with trauma is a reflection of the harsh reality faced by many abuse victims, who sometimes resort to self-harm in an effort to become unappealing to their abusers.

It is worth noting that Valentino is the one who should be freaking out in this scene, not Angel Dust, because actually managing to piss off Lucifer's daughter is like a mouse finally poking a lazy cat into action. But Charlie's demeanor is so unthreatening that even when she is clearly going to break Valentino like a twig for his behavior, Valentino isn't threatened and Angel actually stops Charlie from attacking him, seeing her as the one in danger. This is noted to be a favorite tactic of real-life abusers, in which they psychologically bind their victims so badly that they themselves will refuse help from people who would've saved them with little effort.

Angel's meltdown when Husk rejects him one too many times is both this and even more sadder, reminding us that Valentino's abuse has all but fully convinced Angel that his only worth is sex. As well as after Husk called him fake right before the meltdown, his eyes glow magenta and he gets up in Husk’s face.

The Music

The 'Poison' music video serves as a metaphorical exploration of Angel Dust's entrapment and addiction to the toxic relationship with Valentino. Visual elements such as pink smoke-like chains represent Valentino's control, while the ambiguous nature of their sexual encounters raises questions about consent. The video culminates in a scene that encapsulates the fear and distress Angel Dust experiences, highlighting the cyclical nature of abuse.

At one point in the song Angel straight up says that he can only blame himself instead of pinning any of it on "the poisoner" for all the abuse he's being put through. A harrowing reminder of how too many a victim feels like they've brought their suffering upon themselves or, worse, believe they deserve it.

Throughout the sequence, Angel is trying to maintain his "mask" of super-confidence and semi-aggressive sexuality on camera... but the mask keeps slipping. His face flashes from resigned, to frightened, to just plain tired, before he has to fake enthusiasm again. Worse, Valentino appears to be deliberately throwing Angel off his stride whenever he successfully gets into character: for example, when during the dance sequence between Angel and Valentino, Angel's doing a good job of appearing graceful and seductive...until Valentino literally yanks Angel's soul-contract chain to bring him crashing to the ground, a move that clearly startles Angel.

During the final dance sequence, the Angel we see "happily" dancing on stage is contrasted with his "real" self shown on screens surrounding him, going through the agonizing abuse that Valentino subjects him to. When Valentino arrives and drags Angel off to be raped again, it's flipped on its head — now the Angel on stage is fearful and upset while his screen counterpart "happily" continues the dance. "I disassociate, disappear" indeed...

[avelera]

Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

[peachyteabuck]

sword & shield (fallon carrington x reader)

↪ summary: you have a meltdown. luckily, fallon knows just what to do

a commission for @devillskettle

↪ pairing: fallon carrington x reader

↪ words: 1,032

↪ trigger warnings: fluff, angst related to it being a meltdown, unspecified neurodiversity in reader

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The inside of your chest feels like a balloon being filled with helium by a careless child. Everything—from the hairs sticking to your forehead, to your extra-dark sunglasses atop your head, to the itchy tag at the back of your shirt—everything grates on your nerves as though they were large blocks of cheese. Two tables behind you, a man is telling a woman off for taking too harsh a tone during a pitch meeting. A table in front of you, a couple is professing their love for each other after the woman’s pregnancy test came back positive last night. Your waiter has on cologne you think expired the same time Britney publicly shaved her head.

Next to your heart and your lungs you can feel the latex pressing on your vital organs; you can’t inhale enough, and you can feel your heart muscles fending off the flimsy material. Some of it seems to pass into your trachea, too, blocking any air from passing in or out.

You don’t say anything when you leave the restaurant, simply standing up as Fallon rambles on about someone at work who accused her of using her Daddy’s money to get by. It’s not that you don’t care that she cares about her reputation—but, more importantly, if you had to hear one more second of literally any noise, you were going to start screaming and flipping tables.

It’s not too hot outside, but not too cold, either. One of those end-of-summer days where the light jacket you’d refused to take off when you’d entered the restaurant would keep you perfectly content. Now you wish you’d brought the heavy blazer you’d tossed aside at the last second. You would’ve hated lugging it around, but at least you’d have something to hide under as the world shrunk around you.

It's easy to know that Fallon is the one coming to stand next to you. She’s got that confident air about her that you’ve envied since undergrad—that kind of energy that guys in your profession were born with; the kind you hated until you saw it dressed in a hot pink pantsuit with a matching Prada purse.

Fallon doesn’t bother to ask if you’re okay. She and the few strangers passing by know you’re not okay just by looking at you—hunched over, hands over your ears, eyes screwed shut. She also knows how easily touch can set you off in these moments, as if you had become trapped inside the belly of a territorial dog, ready to bite at the slightest move.

She doesn’t say anything, actually. Not to you, anyway. Your hands are only so-so at blocking noise, and you can hear her going they’re fine, don’t worry to the occasional concerned civilian troubled enough to ask your companion about you.

You can feel something in front of your face and open your eyes just a bit. It’s her phone, a message typed out in her notes app.

Leave or stay here? It says.

You lean your head to the left a bit.

Fallon takes it back. My place or yours?

Your head snaps left once more. Your roommate works from home and, while she’s sweet, if you have to listen to one of her horrible meetings you think you’ll explode.

You look down again and read the next line.

Let me pay for the food, grab our coats, and call the driver. Stay here.

You nod just a little, hands still over your ears. You knew you should keep a pair of earplugs in your pocket.

Fallon does just as she said she would (or, at least you hope so, given all you can verify is that she’s holding your coat and ushering you into the black Suburban. You like that restaurant, and the last thing you need is for them to put you on their “do not seat” list for nonpayment). The driver, who’s always been understanding of your needs, keeps the car silent as he takes you and Fallon down backroads and through the suburbs.

He doesn’t even say anything as he drops you and Fallon off at her expensive condo, giving her a nod in the rearview mirror that she returns equally silently.

You know lots of people don’t like Fallon, that much has been clear since you were paired for a project in one of your advanced marketing classes. But the parts of her everyone seems to dislike (or worse, actively hate) are all the things you admire most about her; her drive, her stubbornness, how she gets whatever she wants. When you first met, you’d spent your whole life denying yourself anything slightly out of the ordinary.  You’d deny yourself anything your mother would’ve considered frivolous and followed every rule placed upon you.

It was horrible. You had felt trapped, walking into that marketing class. Every day an anvil would settle itself atop your chest, painfully crushing your ribs. Meeting Fallon was a true breath of fresh air. She helped you, in her own way, helping to stand up to professors with bones to pick and fellow students who tried to take advantage.

In that same strange, wonderful way, she guides you up the steps of her home, silently instructing you to lay on the couch. There, she piles fancy blankets on top of you (three, to be exact), from thickest to thinnest. She then grabs you a glass of water, cold, from her fridge dispenser.

“You want to watch something?” Fallon asks. You nod, just a little. “Blink once for something you’ve seen before, twice for something irrelevant to your interests.”

You blink once.

She follows your request without comment, sitting so that the side of her thigh presses into your head.

“Thank you,” you say after a while, voice small. For a moment, you’re not sure Fallon hears you. The thick blankets surely muffle your voice, the sound barely audible as the sounds of some television show you’ve seen a thousand times play on her flatscreen television.

Fallon’s hand, once dropped over your shoulder, comes down to cup your face. The position is awkward, but that doesn’t stop her thumb rubs over your heated cheek. “Anytime.”

[weeb-polls-with-pip]

Autistic Anime Boys Side B Round 1 Match 11

Propaganda:

Mikey -

"This is a headcanon that didn’t originally occur to me, but then I encountered it in the wild, and something in my brain kinda lit up like ‘!!!’. I couldn’t stop turning the idea over in my head, like a slow roasting marshmallow, getting dangerously close to an open flame. So, here we are. First of all, Mikey is the leader of a biker gang. He has an immense interest in motorcycles (including their parts and repairing/building them), something of which he is able to bond with other delinquents over. He is frequently commented on by others as showcasing ‘childish’ behavior, such as whining when he doesn’t get his way, taking naps on his vice-commander, Draken’s, back or getting upset when he receives a kid’s meal with no flag in it. He often relies on Draken in a caretaker sort of role, such as providing the aforementioned flags to avoid meltdowns, tying his hair up just the right way in the mornings, going to his house to wake him up (all these things appear frequent activities/rituals Mikey relies on), and being “his heart.” Mikey appears to have naturally low empathy. Pretty early on in the series, he and Draken pay a visit to a girl who was put in the hospital by a rival gang, for being affiliated with some of their members. Her parents encounter them and they are furious that anyone involved in gang activity would even dare show their faces, despite Mikey and Draken not being the ones to actually hurt her. He insists they shouldn't apologize to the parents, because it's not their fault and they personally didn't do anything, failing to comprehend the bigger picture, that the lifestyle of delinquency and crime in general and the violence it breeds, not just between those who partake, but innocents caught in the crossfire, is what led to their daughter's assault. And they are feeling grief and anger, thus acting irrationally and lashing out (which, while illogical to Mikey, is a typical emotional reaction to this sort of situation). But he eventually amends his opinion at Draken’s urging—reserving emotional consideration for when his friends are involved primarily. Difficulty regulating emotions, selective listening, and self-centeredness are also all traits that Mikey has exhibited. He often has atypical/repressed facial expressions. He has safe foods—preferring sweet things like dorayaki and taiyaki above all else. He has a comfort item in the form of an old, raggedy towel, which is, in his words “his whole life,” and refuses to give it up even when his family urges him to throw it out. “The tip of his towel” is canonically his “favorite spot”—He is seen stimming with it by rolling it up and kneading it with his hands and fingers. He also prefers to dress for comfort, in loose and baggy clothes whenever he is outside of his gang uniform, and he always wears the same flip-flops, even when it would seem inconvenient. Some other things that don’t necessarily point to autism, but maybe could be considered in the broader picture with everything else?

Routine night motorcycle rides with his brother and childhood friend, which he continues, same time and route, after their deaths, while talking like they are still there with him (though this is more him just honoring their memories and finding comfort in these old actions)

‘Dark impulse’ flare-ups could be interpreted as meltdowns that cross into violent territory? (Like after Sanzu allegedly broke his new toy as a child) But again, dark impulses are a whole other can of worms that could probably be likened to other things better than autism

He is canonically considered a martial arts genius/prodigy, which could be read as some sort of savantism, but also just typical shounen anime shenanigans Despite some of the shakier things to consider, I find myself really liking the idea of autistic Mikey, and I do think there’s a lot in the story in favor of that reading of him. I’d love to see him represented here!"

Yotasuke -

"He has terrible social skills and doesn't filter his words, and although he does not have bad intentions, he often comes off extremely cold or harsh, saying things like "Talking with you irritates me so can you please leave me alone?". He struggles to make friends, especially since he purposefully pushes people away. Yatora, the main character, brings the number of contacts on his phone to a grand total of three. His wardrobe consists of almost exactly the same shirt over and over again. He holds his pencil and chopsticks extremely weird. He loves animals and is often pictured with them, for example cats and rabbits. He was considered extremely talented at art when he was a child, and his art is still amazing but it has messed up the way he interacts with others. He feels as though art is all he has. This causes him to resent Yatora, who appears to have so many skills and career options, as well as a thriving social life. Yotasuke also has a very strained relationship with his mother, who can be quite manipulative at times. He is also very silly if that means anything to you. Everyone should go read Blue Period actually."

[perplexingluciddreams]

with all the things in the house getting moved and tidied and put in boxes, i get anxious about my things getting taken away. or binned without anyone asking me. and that i won't get a say in what happens with My Things.

(i know that won't logically actually happen, but i still need lots of reassurance from parents that it won't happen like that).

i think part of it is object permanence. if things move or get put away where i can't see them anymore (or don't know their exact location by heart anymore), it is like it stops existing.

some of it is probably just my usual anxiety about lack of/inadequate communication and not being able to tell people what i want/don't want to happen. and that is a realistic fear/worry.

i have real experiences throughout my life of this - where i can't tell someone that i want to keep something instead of throw away/give away, and then i have a meltdown about losing it.

also have experiences of abuser and other people deliberately damaging/breaking/ruining my things (to the point where they have to be thrown away) just to upset me. because my reaction is "funny". so i get scared and defensive and aggressive at anyone who touches or moves or goes too near anything that belongs to me. in case they damage it or ruin it on purpose just to laugh at me and hurt me. (also very territorial about my bedroom for the same reasons).

or even those same people just finding things that belong to me that are important to me and then mocking me for liking it and using it to try humiliate me. this is so much worse when it is related to a special interest - the most important things to me, that help me make some tiny sense of the world.

a lot of things happening right now are very scary to me. and lots of difficult memories. and my head hurts and tummy feels bad ☹️

[beannary]

Hi! Thank you for blessing us all with tlp :) it’s such a cool au and I like it a lot!! I have many thoughts about it so I’ll start writing them now:

With Donnie being raised by Big Mama, the change in dynamics with literally everyone is interesting to think about, so of course my brain has latched onto the concept of how Donnie’s dynamic with his own brain (his neurodiversity/autism) effects his relationships with himself and his family. 

(beannary note: putting everything under the cut so this doesn’t get too long)

Comparing Donnie’s relationship with his own neurodiversity in tlp to canon makes me so emotional you have no idea…..in canon he’s never had a need to mask, living in the sewers with a family who accepts him for who he is, so he has difficulties doing so when needed; we’ve seen him in situations where he is unable to mask/act “socially appropriate” (the mystic library episode comes to mind - he can’t control the volume of his voice when he gets excited. Also every single time he is put in a situation where he has to lie but he is comically bad at it. Also the many many instances in which he is shown being unable to ‘read the room’). But in tlp he seems to be masking a lot, either when he’s interacting with Big Mama’s guests or with Big Mama herself (your Masking is Hard comic comes to mind instantly - how Donnie has a hyperspecific role to play as Big Mama’s Son and the pressure to not only be sociable, but be sociable in a way that meets his mother’s expectations. Its a lot to handle, acting a way that doesn’t come naturally to you and no matter how many times you go through the motions you feel as if it doesn’t get any easier and you dont know why). Tlp Donnie can mask far more convincingly than canon Donnie, but only because he’s had to mask frequently throughout his life. It seems to me like he’s been taught at a young age that he needs to stop acting so “weird” (for example, stimming in obvious ways), because that kind of behavior loses its cuteness fast with Big Mama & most of the company she associates with. I imagine lots of his behaviors are discouraged as he grows up because they’re “not cute anymore” and he’s “not a little kid anymore” and he “needs to learn some manners/self-control” even though everything “weird” Donnie does feels like so natural to him, even as he gets older. Although I do think Donnie has instinctively coped with this by making his stims more subtle (this is where I get to be self-indulgent and imagine his stims - humming, tapping his feet, fiddling with any object he can get his hands on, blasting EDM in his headphones etc), and he only pulls out the big guns (aka big stims) when he’s in his own room with the door closed (or when he’s locked himself in a bathroom stall and physically cannot hold himself back anymore). 

Unfortunately for Donnie I also figure that this amount of masking makes him more susceptible to meltdowns. In canon Donnie has so much freedom and control over his own life that the only time I can remember him being even mildly close to Meltdown Territory is during the Todd Scouts episode when his tech was taken away. And even then, he immediately knows how to cope with the change by Creating with whatever tools he is able to find, his brothers just accepting his absence as he goes MIA to build the things he needs to make himself feel better (like the wooden battle shell). But in tlp au does he even know how to cope in healthy ways? Does he get to go MIA for long periods of time so he can pull himself together and prevent a meltdown from happening? Oouuggghh I just want him to be happy :( poor guy feels as if he has no control over his life to the point he develops an eating disorder, he absolutely has no idea what a healthy coping skill is. I’m torn in between concepts for how he processes his neurological differences - either he goes the “autism? don’t be ridiculous, everyone feels this way” route or the “I am astronomically Different from anyone else I know. surely this is just due to my superior intellect and not a developmental disability of any sorts”. Either way this dude is not connecting any dots nor processing any emotions in a healthy way. (Now that I think about it, while Donnie lives with Big Mama, his unique and different skillset are probably what he clings onto to feel needed and useful to his mother, so the latter makes sense for him during that time. But the former makes sense when the concept of Different scares him, when it’s not just intellect and fixations and tunnel vision but sensory issues and social awkwardness and repetitve movements, things that very clearly separate him from his family and make him less of the Perfect Son he is expected to be.) 

Another thing I’d like to ramble about is Donnie, his autism, and his relationship with his brothers and his dad….you mentioned in an ask that he doesn’t know he’s autistic but that may change when he starts living with the Hamatos. This made me think about how Donnie’s brothers react to his autistic traits in canon versus in tlp (assuming that no one knows that Donnie is autistic; they just know that his brain works Differently than the rest of theirs). In canon, Donnie has lived with his brothers for his entire life. His brothers know his habits, his preferences, his sensitivities, his moods, etc. He may be Different than the rest of them, but not so much that they think about it for more than 5 minutes. Donnie is their brother - any “weird” behavior is not too different from how how he usually acts. Donnie may be weird but they all are in their own ways and it’s not a big deal to them. His brothers are used to accommodating his needs and dealing with his moods. However, in tlp, Raph, Mikey, and Leo don’t know him very well yet. They’ve never lived with him before and when they do accept Donnie into their home as an Official Brother (a development I’m very excited for), they also can’t help but immediately recognize the stuff that makes him Different from the rest of them (if they’re the ones that recognize that it could be autism, than it’s Differences in a way that’s Familiar, if that makes sense). Differences that aren’t just unhealthy habits and mindsets from his previous shitty living situation. Obviously they can be accommodating but it would understandably take longer to adjust simply because they’re not used to Donnie’s specific quirks. They don’t know right away what makes him uncomfortable, or what textures he prefers, or why he moves and talks and acts the way he does. It’s a learning experience for everyone. 

As for Donnie and Splinter….they make me so emotional!!!! Your art of the two of them is so so good and captures that emotion. When Donnie lives with the Hamatos, everything changes. Anyone would have difficulties adjusting to this huge change, but I imagine for Donnie it’s a lot harder. How do you cope with leaving your mother, your only family member you’ve known your entire life? And now suddenly he has to stop being His Mother’s Son and become His Father’s Son, another role he has to create and adjust to (he doesn’t realize yet that his father doesn’t need Donnie to try to be someone he’s not - he loves Donnie unconditionally, just the way he is ;-;) because having a role to play is familiar to him, the only familiar thing he can cling onto during these huge changes in his life. Unfortunately though it just makes everything more exhausting, not only coping with the move into a literal sewer but trying to act like a perfect son for Splinter. Donnie doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t have to mask in front of a parent or meet impossible expectations to “earn” parental love and approval. Meanwhile Splinter sees how Donnie acts with his brothers (much more casual because Donnie doesn’t feel as if he has to “impress” his brothers the way he has to with a parental figure) versus how Donnie acts with him and thinks he’s doing something wrong, that he’s the one giving off an impression to his new son that he has to suppress his stims or say the “right” things or do stuff that makes him uncomfortable because he thinks it’ll make his parent happy…..but I have faith that this pressure eases with time, that they get more comfortable around each other the longer they live together. Eventually Donnie won’t be hesitant or embarrassed to take off the mask in front of his father. Maybe one day he’ll get rid of the mask around his family entirely!! Either way I’m excited to see tlp Donnie’s journey :) thanks for sharing your au with us!

HI THIS IS BEANNARY SPEAKING NOW wow this was so much and im sooooo glad that you are enjoying this au! And for real its so flattering that you like?? wrote all this about my silly au this has actually been the only thing that I could think about since you asked if you could send this in and yeah it’s just really nice to see that people like my comic and this little separated au that i dreamed up

One of the big differences between canon donnie and tlp donnie is tlp donnie’s ability to mask really well. When he was a kid, a lot of his stims were cute and adorable so Big Mama didn’t like encourage them? but let him you know stim freely since she thought it was cute, but as he got older and he kept on stimming in obvious ways she started really hounding him to stop. I do really like the idea of donnie starting to stim in more subtle ways, and im definitely going to try to incorporate that in some of the comics! He still needs to stim, because you know of the autism, and so he does tap his feet and play with whatever little object he can get in his hands when he’s in public. His room is his one safe space where he can really be himself, since its the one spot where he’s not being watched by anyone (his safe space isn’t his lab because what he does in his lab is highly controlled by Big Mama so while he does like being in there and getting to do his science, he’s still pretty on edge since he never knows if his mom is watching him or not). Donnie really loves spending time in his room, though he doesn’t really get a whole lot of time there by himself since Big Mama has filled his schedule with as many extra curriculars as possible so she can show him off all the time). But speaking of his room it sure would be bad if something happened to it! Sure would be bad if it was destroyed in some way thereby destroying his one safe space! Haha! ;)

And no! Donnie does not know how to cope in healthy ways! He is very good at figuring out when he is about to have a meltdown and at figuring out a way to subtly get out of a situation so he can go recuperate somewhere in private, but even then, he can never spend a whole lot of time to himself because if he ever disappeared for an abnormally long amount of time, it would draw attention to himself and more specifically to these meltdowns that he’s having and he really wants those to stay off of Big Mama’s radar since if she knows about them then that’s one more thing for her to criticize and then it’ll be even harder for him to deal with them with his mom now being aware of them. And yeah he does know about autism but he’s still like no it simply could not be me but in that way where he’s like 99% sure he’s autistic but is just refusing to acknowledge it so he can keep on pretending to be ‘normal’. if that makes sense alksdjfh

Living with the Hamatos is going to be very hectic and scary for Donnie just because of how different their home is from his current home. In tlp, Raph also is autistic im pretty sure idk I might change that as the comic progresses but at this point that is what im going with but just havent had a whole lot of time to develop, but that’s part of the reason why the hamatos are so accepting of Donnie, its because they’re already used to living with a sibling who is autistic so all of this is second nature to them, it’s just normal and that really throws donnie for a loop because he’s so used to walking on all these eggshells making sure to act as allistic as possible 24/7 only to be suddenly dumped into an environment where its completely normal and accepted for him to just be himself. And sure it’ll be a learning curve for the hamatos because like obviously not all autistic people are the same but it’ll also be a learning curve for donnie since he’ll finally be able to relax and figure out who he is without having to hide himself all the time. 

Donnie and splinter’s relationship is what im really the most excited to write about. I really want Donnie’s experience leaving Big Mama to mirror Splinter’s experience. And I really don’t want to spoil too much but Donnie is really not gonna like Splinter much at first, and it’s gonna take a while for Donnie to warm up to his dad, but also Splinter is going to be the most understanding of what Donnie is going through because well, Splinter also left an abusive relationship with Big Mama. I dont really want to say much more about their relationship because I dont want to spoil the good angst I have planned but I’m really excited to explore their relationship more!!!!

Also just for the record I have not like proofread any of this so there may be typos or maybe i said something dumb so just lmk and ill fix it aklsdjhf Im not autistic (or am I! I havent been to therapy in a while and I would not be surprised to find out that I am autistic or that I have adhd or something else) so lmk if i said something stupid or phrased something in a dumb way and I cannot emphasize how fast I will fix it 

Ok bye now!!! this was fun!!! and thank you for sending this in!!! Idk it just really warms my heart that someone out there is thinking about this silly au this much, makes it feel like all the work ive put into making this comic is worth it :)

[raineandsky]

#41

It was a dark and stormy night—and as cliche as that was, it really was. Rain lashed the windows like it was trying to break in. The sun was long gone, leaving the world to fend for itself against the onslaught of bad weather.

The villain had stayed back late in the hopes of waiting out the storm but they’d made that decision four hours ago and the rain had yet to let up, so with an irritable huff they threw their coat over their shoulders and prepared for the pits of wet hell that awaited outside.

What awaited, they found as they threw the door open, was much worse than that. The wet pits of hell were also out to get them, it seemed.

“Good evening, [Villain],” the superhero opened casually.

The door was already halfway to shutting on his first syllable, and it had slammed in his face with a resounding clang as he finished. He knocked, oddly polite, and got much less politely ignored by the villain, who was preoccupied with having a meltdown on the other side.

“I’m not here to fight,” he called through the thick metal separating them. “Believe me, I wouldn’t have come to the front door if I was.”

“It’s a secret lair; there aren’t any front doors,” the villain found themself spitting back, and the superhero laughed from the other side, unbothered.

“Just open the door, [Villain]. The rain’s cold.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you came somewhere that would never let you in.” The villain opened the door anyway, just a crack. The superhero really did look sodden, now that they were actually looking at him. Did he walk here?

The superhero put a hand against the door like he was simply leaning against it, but after a moment of a tedious stare-down the villain realised the door was slowly opening, pushing them back with it.

“What the h–” is all they got out before there was enough space for the superhero to squeeze through the gap, and the moment his hand left the door it slammed shut. What an obnoxious show of strength. Like hell he’s not here to fight.

“It’s about [Hero],” he opened quickly when he noticed the villain’s unease, their hand drifting to the inside of their coat. “They’ve been distracted recently.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” the villain snapped coldly. “Nice to know I can whoop their ass efficiently. You can leave now.”

The superhero pointedly ignored that, instead choosing to inspect the half-finished gadgets on a nearby table. “It’s been going on for a while. I could never figure out what it was, and they refused to tell me, but…” He paused like he’s changed his mind before nobly powering through, “heroes keep journals. Helps control the emotions that inevitably come with the job, you know?”

“And they’ve been writing their name with someone else’s in a little heart, right?” The villain snorted humouredly, but the awkward silence that followed made them think their joke was too on the nose. “Oh my god, do they actually? Like a teenager?”

“It’s not quite like that, no.” Awh, the superhero was so quick to defend his little underling. Sweet. “There’s someone who keeps coming up in their entries, though, and it seems to be one of the only positive things [Hero]’s got right now.”

“Yeah, working in the agency is depressing,” the villain said with a sage nod, as if they’d know that. “So what? Are you expecting me to go kill someone so you can save face and get your special little guy back to work?”

“No, I just… ugh!” The superhero turned to kick something over, before remembering he was in the villain’s territory. “No, no killing anyone. I need you to talk to them.”

The villain raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “… Talk to them.”

The superhero sucked in a deep breath, on the verge of frustration. “Okay, listen. They’ve been writing about you. A lot. Constantly. They write about your fights like you both went for a nice walk in the park. They’re obsessed with you, [Villain]. I need you to put them right so they can concentrate on what matters.”

The monologue was met with silence for a moment, and the villain’s gaze locked to a stubborn stain on the floor that never quite came out. “You said it was one of the only good things they have.”

“I know it seems unbelievable, but they’ve really taken to you. I don’t think–”

“You’d want to take that away from them?”

The superhero went a little quiet at that, clearly realising how terrible his phrasing was. “No, no, you misunderstood–”

“Did I? Please, explain what you mean.”

“We– they’re distracted. We just want you to correct them before they become unusable for hero work.”

“And potentially break their heart? Rip everything away from them?”

The superhero frowned, confused. “I thought you’d be more up to making everything worse, given your track record.”

“I thought you’d be more up to caring about people, given yours.” The villain stepped daringly closer. “I’ll strike a deal with you [Superhero]. I’ll let them know what the deal is–”

“Oh, thank you, you’re–”

“And I’m going to tell them I’m in love with them.”

The superhero somehow d9id a double take despite looking the villain in the eye. “You what?”

The villain only grinned. “You were right, I am up to making things worse. Now get out of my lair before I make your life even more miserable than it’s about to be.”

The superhero disappeared into the storm with a jovial goodbye to set them off. Somewhere deep down, the villain knew they shouldn’t, but they never really liked the hero that much, much less their arrogant boss. Cruelty was in their nature, anyway. It’d be worth it just to see the superhero crumble without his dear hero.

[milksteaki]

*rattles a cup w like 2 coins in it* spare Boomercup hcs for the deprived??? Individual or as a ship work if you have it <33

Okay lowkey ironic that I was like "omg ask me stuff!!" and then just fucked off for a bit but I blame executive dysfunction. Anyways! Here's some headcanons of my second favorite couple that sometimes rivals my first favorite, hehe.

Gonna start off with individual peeps first:

So I actually headcanon her as the youngest due to the order of their names. Y'know like Huey, Dewey, and Louie are also the same as their age order: from oldest to youngest. And Buttercup is at the end too. So she's the youngest to me, but she treats Bubbles the youngest because of Bubbles' interests and for how sensitive she is. Also about the names, Buttercup feels like an afterthought sometimes and that stems from when the Professor just named her Buttercup because it also starts with a B. Bubbles gets a lot of attention because she's so bubbly and extroverted and constantly putting herself out there. Blossom gets a lot of attention and praise because of her achievements and is constantly going above and beyond. Buttercup has this insecurity that she never will stick out compared to her sisters and that makes her highly individualistic. This aspect of her personality makes it so that when people reduce her to just "a girl", it makes her want to metaphorically rip this label off of her and tear it to shreds. She is constantly trying to prove that she is more, that she is not "just a girl" but someone who happens to be a girl." This can teeter into "not like other girls" territory, but I think there is a nuance to be explored for a story where she never intended to hurt other girls but still has to unpack her underlying misogyny but also remains the same in her gender expression (as in stay more masc than fem). Additionally, she very much wants things of her own. Like her friend group, that's hers and only hers. Her style is hers. Her space is hers. She is a little possessive and territorial and she will fight to protect these things. That money episode that everyone hates is actually why I headcanon her as a young part-time barista at an obnoxious chain cafe just so she can make her own money the right way. (Also constantly pushes her to the limit)

I see Buttercup as having a very close and intimate relationship with music. Music helps her relax when a meltdown nears. It also gives an outlet for her anger, her hurt, and her sensitivity. She uses music to shut out the world first, then uses it to connect to others when words fail her (and they fail often) This is why I ended up envisioning her as a rockstar when she grows up. Every other career option felt too tame for her and I wasn't going to go with police officer for political reasons. This career option gives her a healthy outlet for her anger and temper (which often push people away) and also lets her keep her edge. See Buttercup might be a little bit more obsessed with her image than her sisters because she would HATE for anyone to see her as soft. She NEEDS to keep her edge. She somewhat romanticizes the gritty, grim, and grunge things in life because it is so much more authentic than other things. That's another thing she values: authenticity. She hates sugar-coated bullshit and would rather embrace the cold brutal truth, but she often mistakes brutality as always truthful and kindness as fake.

While things often and very quickly trigger Buttercup's temper, Boomer sort of lacks a temper. His desire for destruction comes from how he finds enjoyment in malice. See he loves mean-spirited jokes, but it can still get to you when you are almost always the punching bag of the group. But also, Boomer is sort of the best person to be the punching bag of the group. He does stupid things very often, he barely holds grudges, and it is very hard to get things to bother Boomer. He just doesn't give a fuck about anything, or anyone. He rarely ever thinks anything through, and things often bite him in the ass because of that. He's a chill guy, but people often mistake that with him being a good guy. But Boomer has no interest in being a good guy, but honestly, he barely has an interest in doing much at all. I see sloth consuming Boomer, often sleeping until 2:00 pm and even after that he will still take naps. Executive function has a greater grip on Boomer than it does on me frankly. I also see him as more individualistic than his brothers. Brick has the strongest personality of course, but a lot of his identity is still connected to the Rowdyruff Boys. That is not the case for Boomer. Boomer speaks up against Brick the most because again Boomer doesn't exactly think before he speaks and also doesn't give a single fuck. He spots Brick's mistakes and will either point them out in a question or just straight make fun of Brick. This in turn makes Brick pick on Boomer more and also become closer to Butch (who sees more eye to eye with Brick). Boomer feels that and ends up doing things by himself more often. He needs alone time often, taking walks and wreaking havoc along the way. Out of his family, he ends up growing up and moving on the fastest, moving out at fifteen to figure out life on his own.

Boomer also has a very close relationship to music. You rarely find him without his headphones (which reminds me... why do I never draw him with them...) Music stimulates him, and everyday life is so boring. I like to think he first gets into music for comedic songs, like the Lonely Island or Bo Burnham. (So yes he loves musicals, but he would hate for you to find out) Then he finds his real love for rock music, the more underground the better. Music has been his friend when he had none, and he has a true talent for rhythm and beats. I see him more as a drums guy, no thoughts just ba tsss. It's one of a few things he feels passionately about. Second only to his love for pissing people off, and god does he get a kick out of it. That's what makes people hate him. And he's not exactly the type to apologize or stop pissing bitches off. He'll keep going, maybe keep it up for days or months. Truly, Boomer is a little shit, constantly wearing a shit-eating grin.

Buttercup, at first sees Boomer as an idiot. Then she sees him as a fake "pretty boy" who gets things easily handed to him because he's blonde, a boy, and is very pretty. She is not attracted to him at all because he wasn't exactly her type. To her, he lacked grit and edge, and frankly she just doesn't like blondes. The same could not be said about Boomer. She was totally his type: has a pulse and could kick his ass. In a way Boomercup starts with a comedic premise, Boomer is too stupid to see his impending doom when he tests Buttercup's patience by flirting with her. But then I think we would find out that Boomer wasn't being stupid, he wasn't scared because he does genuinely like her. She's pretty, smart, funny, and on top of all that she's a fucking badass. He loves how edgy she is and he sees 0 issue in pursuing her (part of it is because of his lack of attachment to the whole Rowdyruff Boy thing). Boomer gets on Buttercup's nerves constantly, but they soon find they have quite a bit in common. Skateboarding, rock music, and the same food orders are just a small list of what they have in common. And when I say they bond with music, I mean they really bond with music. Boomer likes classic rock to hardcore rock. Buttercup likes heavy metal music to grunge rock music, but of course, she appreciates the iconic classics. They especially bond over indie music, becoming concert buddies and buying band merch for each other as gifts. However, before any of this can happen, Buttercup establishes that he needs to stop messing with her, and she refuses to believe that Boomer genuinely romantically likes her. And as Boomer starts to get to know her more and starts to care about her, he agrees. He tries to let go of his crush to become her friend instead. Their normal fighting turns into light playfighting, as Boomer still gets on her nerves but in a friendlier way. As Buttercup spends more time with him, she starts to develop feelings for him. She starts to see him as a pretty cool guy. So weird right? Just a minute ago she saw him as an idiot. And when she starts to like him, she starts playfully hit him more, laughs harder at his jokes, and especially spends more and more of her time with him. Yet Boomer is completely oblivious because not once is she directly stating her interest in him. If anything, her words sound like she has no interest in him, as she sort of teases him more. But for Buttercup, that is flirting. Complimenting people...being affectionate before dating... These make her quite uncomfortable. So she insults and fights him instead, and Boomer finds it hilarious. It's different when Buttercup does it because Boomer can at least tell that she values him and sees him as an equal (unlike Brick).

As a couple, they end up becoming the most well-adjusted couple. Buttercup pushes Boomer to be more ambitious with how hard she works to achieve her goals. Boomer actually gives Buttercup more patience, because she is so much happier with him that all the things that used to make her angry seem so small and pointless. And seeing how little things bother him, inspires her to get to that level of unbothered. They are most people's favorite couple to be around because they rarely fight, they don't do PDA, and they are just really fun to be around. They are a very chill couple and they appreciate each other's honesty. Besides Buttercup's romantic feelings, Boomer appreciates how much he doesn't have to guess with her. And Boomer keeps it real with Buttercup. They play video games together, and when Buttercup doesn't have a show then they sleep in or at least have a very lazy day. Boomer will help her out sometimes if she needs drums, but knows Buttercup would shine brighter if he wasn't in the band. Anyways I'm sleepy. Gonna eat breakfast and then nap lol.

[m-for-musings]

WIP WATHEVER

(got my Wednesday all tangled up at work so I'm posting on Thursday fuck it)

Things are getting wild for the Baldur's Gate Kindred. Astarion, Wyll, Gale and Shadowheart just staked Minthara at her haven's parking lot after dealing with her Ghouls. But now, what to do with a staked Lasombra?

(Yes, I'm still working on a Baldur's Gate x Vampire The Masquerade crossover lol — excerpt below cut)

Minthara lay on the cold concrete floor, her body motionless, eyes wide open in frozen fury. The wooden stake protruding from her chest was grotesque, and Astarion couldn’t help but smirk as he nudged it with his foot. "Well, this escalated quickly," he said with mock innocence, glancing at the others.

Gale, however, was not taking it so lightly. His hands were shaking as he paced back and forth, running them through his already disheveled hair. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," he muttered, wide-eyed and on the verge of a meltdown. "We just staked a Primogen. Not just any Primogen — a Lasombra Primogen! Do you understand the gravity of this? Allow me to paint you a vivid picture of exactly how this could lead to our demise. No, scratch that—our final demise. The kind where there’s no coming back. We’re as good as dead. Final death, do you hear me? This is how it ends for us. All of us. Gone. Staked, burned, left to see the dawn, dust in the wind! It’s over!"

"Calm down, Gale," Wyll said, trying and failing to sound confident. His posture was stiff, and he kept glancing at the elevator door as if expecting Mizora to burst out of it at any moment — even though she wouldn't quite have a reason to be there. "Panicking won't help us now."

"Won’t help? Won’t help? Wyll, if the other Primogen— if your sire finds out, she is going to murder us in our sleep!" Gale gestured frantically at Minthara’s paralyzed body. "We invaded a Primogen's have and staked her! How are you so calm right now?!"

"I’m not calm," Wyll shot back, his jaw tight. "I’m terrified. But we need to think this through before we make it worse."

Astarion let out a short, amused laugh. "Worse? I think we've already passed ‘worse,’ darling. We’re in ‘catastrophic’ territory." He crouched down next to Minthara and poked her cheek, delighting in her helplessness. "Still... I must admit, it’s nice to see her without all that arrogance for once. I could get used to this."

Shadowheart, leaning casually against the wall, rolled her eyes. "Alright, fun’s over. We need to figure out what to do with her before someone stumbles in."

"What if someone finds her?" Gale asked, pure panic etched on his face. It was unclear if the question was meant to the others or to himself.

Shadowheart shrugged, unfazed. "Better for us that she be found staked than dead. If they find her dead, then we’d have real problems."

Astarion raised an eyebrow. "I’m with Shadowheart on this. The work is done, can't we just leave her here? Let the Gangrel handle her."

Wyll shot him a look. "Too risky. We can’t just leave her here. What do you think will happen if someone finds her first and she’s un-staked?"

Astarion’s smirk widened. "Oh, that’s obvious. She’ll come for us, rip our hearts out one by one, and feast on them while we scream for mercy." He gave Wyll a playful nudge. "You first, naturally."

Gale paled, as if he hadn't put up the Blush of Life at all. "Oh gods."

"Focus," Wyll snapped, his frustration finally showing. "We need to move her somewhere. Somewhere discreet."

"I know a place," Shadowheart chimed in. Her voice was cool, almost detached. "It's off-limits, secluded, and nothing ties us to it. No one goes there. We can hide her until we figure out what to do."

[...]

Astarion tilted his head. "And if she’s found there?"

Shadowheart shrugged again. "So she’s found staked. Big deal. It’s not like we’re leaving a pile of ash or a corpse to rot. As I said, nothing ties us to that place."

"She ties us to that place!" Gale practically shouted, his voice rising in pitch. "Don’t you get it? The moment she’s free, she’s going to tell everyone! It’ll be the talk of the entire city. And then we’ll have a Blood Hunt on our heads! Do you know what that means? Every Kindred in this city will be after us, clawing for our throats! There’ll be nowhere to hide, no safe haven! We’ll be hunted like animals!"

"She’s probably too proud to admit four neonates bested a Primogen in her own haven." Shadowheart said, though there was the slightest hint of doubt in her voice. "Even if she does talk, the Lasombra may be part of the Camarilla now, but they’re still persona non grata. Her clan may hold a seat among the Primogen, but the title is mere nominal, just like the Banu Haqim. She’ll be left to handle it on her own, just like she was left now. But if we leave a body? Then we’re looking at a full-blown investigation. The Camarilla will be all over us for breaking their precious Traditions." She pointed at the stake in Minthara’s chest. "This? This buys us time. And if it comes to it, we can always blame the Gangrel."

A moment of tense silence followed as everyone considered the options. Gale looked like he was going to pass out, but he managed to nod. "I-I guess that makes sense. But... how do we even move her there without raising suspicion?"

[...]

"Right." Wyll sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Let's get this done already. Shadowheart, get the car in here. We’ll drag her. Astarion, grab her feet. I'll take her arms. Gale... just try not to hyperventilate."

Astarion shot Wyll a sly grin. "Oh, look at you, taking charge. How very heroic. Almost makes me want to listen."

Shadowheart groaned, turning to run upstairs. "Just shut up and grab her, Astarion."

Astarion let out a dramatic sigh but did as instructed. "You know, Wyll, I can’t help but feel this is all your fault. If you hadn’t insisted on—"

"My fault?!" Wyll shot him a sharp glare. "How exactly is this my fault? If I recall, you were the one who snuck up behind her and shoved the stake through her heart!"

Astarion’s grin returned. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’re the one who started this whole mess by offering to help that bunch of savages—"

"Guys," Gale interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I think I’m going to be sick."

Astarion just laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, Gale. Welcome to the real world of Kindred politics. Isn’t it fun?"

[silverwings22]

Song of the Sea: Chapter 4: Strength to Stand

Chapter warning: Body morphing, accidental nudity, profanity, brothers bullying each other, inhuman physicality, brief descriptions of a POW

Series warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a

Previous Chapter:

Next Chapter:

The war was brutal on soldiers, Shiani had known it would be. She hadn't, however, realized how hard it was going to be on her. Tech didn’t come back to Kamino much, and it had been over two years since the war started. 

She’d been struggling to figure out these schematics he’d sent her, frustrated at her ability to find the scrap she needed. She had wired a functional hyperdrive and navicomputer out of bits and bobs, the interface coming out of the back of droid’s head like a monstrous brain leech. The hardest part was welding three different recipes of durasteel alloy when they melted a different temperatures. She was starting to think she was never going to have a functional engine unless she started stealing stuff from Tipoca directly. She could get into an open hangar, theoretically…

The very idea terrified her, so she pushed it to the side for the millionth time since she’d first thought of it and decided she’d finish the piece she was working on and go hunting. She was desperately hungry, as always. Since the war started and the cloning operation up above her had ramped up, the litter raining down on the seafloor had gotten worse. Almost nothing lived in her precarious little territory anymore, and she’d been chased on the rare occasions she’d ventured into deeper water. Once, another siren had almost caught her until she’d recklessly headed straight for a glass tube on the bottom, which had electrified protection around it. Shiani knew where the shock started, her pursuer hadn’t, and while they’d been twitching like a stunned fish she’d managed to get away. 

She had just finished up her weld and pushed the mask Tech had given her up off the top of her head, waiting for it to cool enough she could rub her thumbs over it and check the quality. Her comm, sitting on a nearby rock, started vibrating and she scrambled over eagerly. Only one person ever called her. “Tech!”

He was seated alone in the cockpit of the Havoc Marauder, looking through his datapad with the autopilot engaged. She recognized the interior of his ship now, with the recordings he’d sent her and the schematics she’d looked over a thousand times. She’d memorized hundreds of ship types, just so she could recognize his when it came back to Tipoca city. 

He smiled. "It is good to see you as well. How is everything?"

"Same here. Found new parts underwater. And the new handheld you gave me got stuff to work in the cave." She giggled. "My ship is almost done. Come see you in space!"

Tech raised an eyebrow. "What do you intend to use for fuel?"

Her ear fins drooped a little and her expression looked faraway for a moment. "Gonna have to steal some from the longnecks. And an engine, if I can’t find the parts."

"That would put you at significant risk of discovery."

She huffed. “Worth it to get off Kamino. I’m so sick of water.” She was sick of more than water. She was sick of garbage and hunger and the sound of her own people’s singing filling her with dread. If they ever conquered their fear of the longnecks and explored the volcano, she’d be done for.

Tech shook his head wryly. "You belong in water, you are an aquatic species. Even if you can breathe oxygen, it would be difficult for you to move around. You do not have legs. If I took you with me off of Kamino after the war, I would need to find a way to transport you. I’ve considered repurposing a bacta tank with a steering apparatus-"

"That’s a lot of work, Tech. I’ll just change shape."

Tech froze. "You can… change shape?"

Shiani nodded eagerly. "Yes. Sirens used to live on land when there was land. We can have legs, and tentacles too. I’ve been practicing the change, it just took a while to figure out. Most sirens don’t bother. Here, I’ll show you.”

"I was unaware you could do that."

She adjusted the comm slightly and wiggled back so he could see. "I want to walk off Kamino. I’ll see all the places you go!" 

As he watched, fascinated, she pressed four of her tentacles together and hummed. They fused seamlessly, popping audibly as bones formed and flexed into place. When the unnerving sound ended, she was sitting in the sand with the remaining four tentacles splayed out almost skirtlike, and a pair of distinctively humanoid legs stretched out in front of her. She wiggled her toes at the comm. 

"Fascinating…" Tech whispered, taking a moment to inspect the transition. Her legs were as purple as the rest of her, lean and hairless. Her toenails were as pointed and sharp-looking as her fingernails, reconfirming she was a predator. He’d never seen her hunt, but she talked about it sometimes. As she wobbled to her feet, supported by her tentacles, he guessed she was of shorter stature on legs. And- "Shiani! You are not wearing pants!”

"Pants? What pants?" She blinking, scooping up her comm from the rock she'd had it sitting on to bring it to her face. And sparing him, since Tech had just gotten an eyeful of completely bare siren ass. Not an unpleasant view, if he was honest, but that was Shiani. She was as off-limits as a Jedi general. He and his brothers went home with girls they’d never see again from bars, not people they were actually friends with. Sexual contact made things complicated, and his life was complicated enough as a soldier.

"Bottom clothing. You cannot just walk around naked!" His cheeks were red. 

Shiani blinked again, poking her kelp shirt and chains. "Not naked, Tech."

"Yes you are. From the waist down." He grumbled. 

"Humans think naked is the bottom?" She giggled. "So strange."

"I had assumed your use of plant fibers to make a shirt would indicate a little more modesty."

“Modesty for sirens is to cover nipples. What’s the point of covering the bottom?" She cocked her head to the side. “Can’t move around in uniforms like yours, and something that’s loose won’t cover anything anyway. When you swim up, everybody under you can see anyway.” She shrugged. 

"The point is to protect and conceal your… more delicate parts." He sighed. Cultural differences were a minefield, but he supposed this explained why she'd once set up squawking when he'd taken his shirt off to ring the water out of it in the cave during a visit. He'd just thought she was shy around men… "You live in close proximity to a large number of regs, who have limited contact with females of any species. You could be in danger, if anyone saw you."

"Why would regs want to hurt me?" She frowned. 

"Biological impulses are difficult to control, and I do not put my faith in regs to make an attempt."

She scrunched her face. "I thought all clones were brothers, not just your squad. I’m not scared of clones, just longnecks."

"Just trust me. I will bring you a set of blacks to wear when we return to Kamino… though you may need a cadet size."

Shiani nodded. "Okay, I’ll wear the pants. But only for you. When are you coming home?"

"Very soon. We have… adopted a new member of the squad. He needs additional medical attention and new prosthetic limbs, which I will be better able to make with access to the Tipoca City facilities."

She sat back in the sand, eyes glued to his face in the holo. “Will you tell me about your new brother?” She’d hunt later. Right now, she wanted to listen to him talk. She could listen for a thousand years to Tech talking. She wasn’t sure exactly when it happened, when friendly affection started to grow into something new, but at some point during one of the many info-dumps under the lantern light, she’d found herself falling in love with him. How couldn’t she? Tech was handsome and honest, with greater patience towards her than she usually had for herself. He brought her tools and food when he was on Kamino, and sent her encouraging messages when he wasn’t. He was the only person to speak to her since her banishment, the only voice who spoke her name and made her feel like she was still a person instead of a creature descended into madness in the dark. It may as well have been fated for her to fall in love with Tech, the way the Harmony and Melody had put him in her life. 

Entirely unaware of her blossoming, soul-deep devotion, Tech had launched into his story. "Alright. It began on Yalbec Prime, with an insurrection of an insectoid species-"

"Tech's hiding something." Hunter grumbled. "I'm tired of dancing around it. He's constantly disappearing or taking comms with the cockpit doors shut."

"Maybe he's got a girlfriend?" Wrecker suggested. They were back on Kamino, Echo just back from medical with new attachments to his half-wired brain. The poor Corporal looked exhausted, but was sitting up to wait for Tech to get back from… wherever he'd gone. He couldn't sleep until everyone was accounted for.

"Yeah right. That nerd?" Crosshair huffed. "No way in hell."

"Maybe a friend then?" Echo mumbled, gratefully leaning on Wrecker when he sat down beside him.

Hunter sighed. "It's a distraction, whatever it is. He needs to come clean."

"So have Wrecker hold him down and I'll take his glasses like we did as cadets. He'll fess up when I can't see two feet in front of his face." Crosshair smirked around his toothpick.

"That was a dick move then and it's a dick move now." Hunter groaned. 

"You want answers or not?"

"... fine. Wrecker, grab him when he walks in the door."

Echo rolled his eyes, but decided to get in his hammock to wait instead of watching the shit show too close. These guys were all the chaotic energy of Domino squad, but crammed into each individual. Together? A tsunami of stupid that somehow worked.

Tech had been gone a couple hours already, so it wasn't long before he did show back up. Soaking wet, which Wrecker immediately noticed when he put the genius in an arm lock. "Were you outside?! Why are you wet?!"

Crosshair snagged the goggles off Tech's face and shook the water off. "Ugh."

Hunter made a face. "You smell like low tide. Where have you been?"

Tech wiggled uncomfortably. "Put me down, Wrecker."

"Not until you tell us what's going on with you." Hunter demanded. "You've been vanishing for hours every time we come back here."

"I have other engagements. It is not affecting my work." Tech squinted at him. "And return my glasses. You know I need them to see."

"Nope." Crosshair sprawled out in his own bunk. "We could roll back the cam footage, Hunter. He records everything."

"You will get nothing. The footage is password protected." Tech sniffed. Anything to do with Shiani he kept under lock, since he couldn't risk the Kaminoans finding out about her.

"So you are hiding something." Hunter growled.

"It is a matter of personal security. Now put me down!" Tech squawked, kicking his feet. 

"Security for who?" Crosshair smirked, dangling Tech's goggles just out of reach. "There's a sea swell tonight with half the city underwater, and you were outside? Doesn't seem too secure to me, vod."

Tech frowned, mind racing to figure out a way out of this. He'd calculated his contact with Shiani into his life, been absolutely sure it wasn't affecting any missions or endangering his squad… he'd forgotten to factor in how fucking nosy his brothers were. "It is not any of your business-"

Taptaptaptap.

The furious sound of staccato nails on the window caught everyone's attention. Tech squinted at the ghostly figure of a 8-legged woman glaring at the scene in front of her, pointing at Wrecker holding him in the air and Crosshair with his goggles. 

"What the fuck is that?" The sniper blinked, leaning back with his eyes fixed on the bared fangs in front of them. Her mouth was terrifying, splitting almost to the back of her jaw in a vicious snarl to show exactly how sharp those teeth were. 

Tech smirked faintly. If she was going to reveal herself... "The reason I was out."

Wrecker dropped him to run to the window and Tech snatched his goggles back. "She looks mad." The giant blinked. 

Shiani was signing angrily at him, who didn't have a clue what she was saying. Echo, on the other hand, whistled. "She is."

Tech walked up, signing back to her. "It is alright. They were just wondering where I was."

“Are you hurt?” Her lips snapped shut the minute he approached, face softening back into something vaguely pretty, with no visible seams around the corners of her mouth. He’d never seen her do that before… but he’d never seen her angry, either. 

"No, I am not injured. But they have seen you now. I thought you wanted to remain hidden."

“Just wanted to make sure you got to your room safe, so I followed.” Her tentacles drooped nervously. “Was worried”. 

Tech smiled. "May I introduce you? These are my brothers."

“They won’t tell anyone? They’re safe?” 

"Yes. They are safe." Tech looked over at the squad. "You all must agree to never discuss her with anyone else. Her species lives in hiding from the Kaminoans. They could be in danger if the wrong person knew of their continued existence."

The other four clones nodded, gathering at the window curiously. Tech pointed out each brother, signing for her. "This is Hunter."

“Tracker and leader. Hunter.” She waved, scooting closer to the glass. “Skull face?” 

"Yes, he has a tattoo on his face."

“Good leader. Perfect success, Tech told me.” 

Hunter preened a little as Shiani kept signing. "What did she say, Tech? I didn't catch that."

Tech snickered. "She said you had best not let me get hurt. She is quite protective, as you can see."

Crosshair chuckled. "Feisty squid." Suddenly the nearly-forgotten drunken conversation about tentacles made sense to him. Tech had a thing for the siren, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Of course he wasn’t, because Tech would think himself in circles and avoid risk at all cost. If he was friends with her, he’d be concerned about changing the dynamic… Tech hated change so much it was almost hilarious. Almost. 

"She is a siren. This is Crosshair, Shiani."

She mimicked firing a rifle curiously. “Sniper. Never misses.” 

"That's right. She's pretty smart." Crosshair nodded. 

Tech nodded. "She is very intelligent, and enjoys learning. I have been teaching her Basic."

"So she can talk?" Wrecker grinned, pushing Crosshair out of the way. "Hi, Miss Squid lady!"

"She cannot hear through the window, but her name is Shiani. Shiani, this is Wrecker."

Shiani put her hands on the window to examine Wrecker’s face. Wrecker stared back, a little uncomfortable under the predator’s pale eyes. After a moment she touched her own face and signed. Tech smiled. "She wants to know if your face hurts. She is very empathetic."

Wrecker grinned and shook his head. "Nah. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Shiani nodded, signing to Tech. Echo laughed. 

"What did she say!?" Wrecker pouted.

"She told Tech not to stand too close to you." Echo wheezed. 

Tech smiled and waved Echo a little closer. "This is Echo. The one I told you about, on the last mission."

She put a tentacle to the window, considering his pale and tired face. Echo tried not to squirm under her wide gaze until she smiled, and even then those inch long canines were unnerving. “Very brave Echo. Hero.”

He flushed when he realized she’d complimented him. "Not really…"

“You saved Anaxes. Survived capture. Echo is like a Chainbreaker.” 

Echo looked at Tech. "Chainbreaker?"

"Her people's heroes. The ones who led them out of captivity and to freedom in their underwater cities. The chains she is wearing is a symbol of freedom to them, to take back what kept them bound and use it for their own. It is a very high honor to be considered a Chainbreaker." Tech explained. "I told her about your experience on Skako Minor."

"So that's what you were doing all afternoon?" Hunter cocked an eyebrow. 

"No. I talked to her over comm on the way here. This afternoon, she wanted to show me something she is building. And I took her some food and pants."

"How's she getting all those wiggly parts in a pair of pants?" Crosshair huffed.

"She has shape-shifting abilities." Tech looked back at Shiani, who was floating upside down to examine Echo’s scomp arm. "She wants to leave Kamino."

"Tech, we can't take her with us. She'd be caught by the Kaminoans instantly… and we're soldiers. We can't take a girl like that into a war." Hunter sighed.

"I know. But perhaps… after the war." Tech gave the siren a regretful look. He might not even survive that long, war was inherently dangerous. Still, the idea of taking Shiani where she could see all the things he'd shown her through his recordings… it was a nice dream. She'd be happy.

"Maybe." Hunter looked at her too. "She seems like a nice girl."

"She is extraordinarily pleasant company." Tech smiled a little, and that was the nicest thing Hunter had ever heard him say about anyone.

[actualbird]

this is gonna be a long ramble that trails off into different directions

so i was listening to episode 75 of this podcast called Lingthusiasm all about linguistics (highly recommend it, it's a great read and my god they have TRANSCRIPTS which is GODSEND for me who can only listen completely focused if i have an accompanying visual component) and this episode is named "Love and fury at the linguistics of emotions" which is all about words and emotions.

again, i highly recommend this podcast, ive only listened to a few episodes but it's so delightful to anybody interested in languages. this episode particularly piqued my interest because im Obsessed with the Concepts Of Emotional Articulation both as a writer and reader (how to communicate emotions effectively in literature), and as a person (im not great with emotions! i have a very low empathy, recognizing both my own and other people's emotions is very difficult for me!).

anyway, great episode, but when they got to THIS part of the episode, it piqued my interest in a different way (colored text added by me for emphases):

Gretchen: There’s this really fun paper about how kids learn emotion words and develop their emotional expressions, and I think the thing that’s the most fun about this is that it puts into academic words what is probably familiar territory for a lot of people if you’ve met a few kids. Here’s a few quotes from this paper. It says, “By the time language begins, towards the end of the first year, emotional expression is already well-established. Children do not need to learn the names of the emotions in order to tell other people what they are feeling.” Lauren: So, as a translation, just because kids don’t know the word for “sad” doesn’t mean that they can’t be very, very sad at you by screaming in your face. Gretchen: [Laughs] Yeah, I think that’s basically what it’s saying. Lauren: Hm, yeah, that makes sense to me. Gretchen: “But they do need to learn the language to tell other people what their feelings are about. Language does not replace emotional expression, rather children learn language for expressing and articulating the objects and circumstances of their emotional experiences while they continue to express emotion with displays of positive and negative affective tone.” Lauren: Kids can laugh and cry. Gretchen: And throw screaming tantrums on the floor, yeah. Lauren: And throw absolute meltdowns. But they have to learn to talk about these things as well, which is why so many children’s books spend so much time talking about the emotions and the feelings of the characters because it’s a really great space to practice doing that in.

and that piqued my interest because.......as a child i do NOT remember reading any children's books about emotions!! because i am filipino, most of the children's books that were around and were what he had at home alamat, or local legends/myth/folk stories. and many of them were not talking about emotions but about THE CONSEQUENCES OF WRONGDOINGS

SO MANY CONSEQUENCES

EVERYWHERE

here are two examples off the top of my head of stories i read as a child

in alamat ng ampalaya (legend/origin story of the bitter gourd), in a land of vegetables all the vegetables had great colored clothes and flavors and the ampalaya was so jealous of all of them that he stole everyone's clothes and wore them all at once. then the clothes and flavors all mixed, turning his appearance wrinkly and his flavor terrible

alamat ng pinya (legend/origin story of the pineapple), a spoiled daughter who doesnt know how to do any housework has to take care of her ailing mother but doesnt know where any of the things are so her mother says "i wish you had several eyes so you could find things" and then the daughter turned into a strange fruit that would become the pineapple

so like. the only emotion i truly learned as a child was anxiety and fear because yOU BETTER BE GOOD OR ELSE YOU'LL TURN INTO PRODUCE

anyway great podcast