#its the most obvious with social anxiety

[frankensteindotpdf]

i feel like i can only process one of my mental illnesses at a time which is fascinating! both because its wild when i get around to one i havent considered much/in a while and because its hilarious to realize how much i have just straight up not been noticing

[unlimitedbutchworks]

The only like particularly reactionary group of transfems ive ever really seen or encountered were almost all "femboys", who usually deny they have any commonality with trans women anyway. Other than that the most "right wing" transfem i've ever interacted with was basically a (in the american sense) socially liberal libertarian who pretended to be alt-right to get more money from men while doing sex work. Literally every other transfem I've interacted with has been no further right than milquetoast democrat. I guess maybe you could call anti-civ/posties reactionary, but as it manifests in trans women I'd argue its not really an especially right wing ideology, just a silly one. Where are people getting this idea of this wide spread phenomena of right wing trans women from?

the specter of the racist nazi channer transfem is just a focus-group’d, custom designed way to plug into social justice types transmisogynistic anxieties and connect with bias in community most effectively. it’s usually obvious you’re being insane if you call the trans women you don’t like degenerate shut in incels, so they just talk around it and use different words to construct the same transmisogynistic end point in your head. people on here are primed to think of trans women as universally white and see 4chan as the antichrist, so it’s minmaxing to scandalize and turn peoples brains off to get them to nod along with transmisogynistic othering, regardless of what any of the aforementioned trans women are actually doing or how many transmascs are allowed to do the same stuff without getting killed

[slocumjoe]

Autistic danse things (I'm being so normal)

Eye contact maintained to the point its unsettling bc he gathered that no contact is rude but. No one hinted at the fact that there's such a thing as mad dogging

Constantly checking surroundings + patrolling = form of stimming. Grounding is a method for dealing with anxiety, a soldiers habitual awareness doubles as a soothing technique

Knows when technology and mechanisms are still up and running in buildings before anyone else because he can hear them. The only other person who shares this is x6. Is X6 autistic, or just a courser? (Answer: yes)

Doubles as a geiger counter for similar reasons. Just ~knows~

Surprisingly good at reading people but rarely knows what to actually do with that, so is convinced he can't read/empathize with people at all

This is why no one has managed to hit. "Hmm they're making very suggestive comments...but I wouldn't know anything about that, so this is probably a normal amount of illicit discussion"

Sees someone break the rules/do something incorrectly and gets heartburn and indigestion

Makes jokes constantly to the point it's obvious he's trying very hard to be funny and personable but his delivery isn't obvious to most people, so people think he's being serious and make fun of him. This inflicts I Want To Glue My Big Fat Mouth Shut disease

Walking audiobook that stops itself halfway through because he said too much and wants to puke because there is a limited word count for each social interaction and he goes over every single time

Tries to show affection but lacks any grace. "Your aim is terrible, let me teach you how to shoot. I'd hate to lose you." "...What?"

[vermilionsun]

This post translates directly to @musas-sideblog's about how Touchstarved ties with Victorian horror and implicit/metaphorical sex, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so here is a lengthy theory. Enjoy :)

Note 1: Victorian era authors used an unholy amount of ways to imply sexual feelings/acts etc, so I here I will include only the ones that are of interest. Note 2: I've highlighted the "most important" parts. Note 3: I'm not an expert at this, so please bear with me and feel free to correct me. Note 4: Do I need to add a TW? I think it's obvious-

Overview: What is Victorian Horror?

Victorian horror refers to the genre of horror literature, art, and culture that flourished during the Victorian era, roughly from the mid-19th century to the early 20th century, coinciding with Queen Victoria's reign from 1837 to 1901. This period was marked by a fascination with the macabre, the supernatural, and the dark aspects of human nature, reflecting the anxieties and societal changes of the time. 

Key Themes and Characteristics

Supernatural Elements:

Ghosts and Spirits: Tales of haunted houses and spectral apparitions were central to Victorian horror. Charles Dickens's "A Christmas Carol" (1843) and Henry James's "The Turn of the Screw" (1898) are notable examples.

Monsters and the Gothic: The era's literature is filled with monstrous creations and gothic settings, such as in Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" (1818), Bram Stoker's "Dracula" (1897), and Robert Louis Stevenson's "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1886).

Science and the Unknown:

The Victorian period was a time of great scientific advancement, but also of fear about the implications of these discoveries. This is evident in works that explore the dangers of unchecked scientific experimentation, like "Frankenstein" and H.G. Wells's "The Island of Doctor Moreau" (1896).

Exploration of the Human Psyche:

Victorian horror often delved into the darker aspects of the human mind, including themes of duality, madness, and the hidden, sinister side of human nature. This is seen in "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" and Edgar Allan Poe’s works, such as "The Tell-Tale Heart" (1843).

Social and Moral Anxieties:

The literature frequently reflected Victorian society's fears and anxieties, including issues related to sexuality, class, and the role of women. Gothic novels often contained subtexts about societal norms and the consequences of transgressing them.

Urban Fear and Isolation:

The rapid urbanisation of the Victorian era contributed to themes of isolation, alienation, and fear of the crowded yet lonely cityscape. This is evident in the settings of many horror stories, such as Arthur Machen's "The Great God Pan" (1894).

Sexual Content: Victorian literature is renowned for its strict moral codes and conservative views on sexuality. Explicit depictions of sexual activity were considered taboo and were subject to censorship. Consequently, authors developed subtle and nuanced methods to imply sexual scenes or themes.

Literary Techniques for Implying Sexual Scenes

✧ Symbolism and Imagery:

Sexuality was often conveyed through symbolic imagery. Objects, actions, or natural phenomena could serve as metaphors for sexual activity or desire. For example, in "Dracula" by Bram Stoker, blood and biting symbolise sexual penetration and the exchange of bodily fluids, infusing the act with a sense of forbidden desire and eroticism.

Clothing and Undress:

Gloves: In Victorian culture, gloves were highly symbolic. The act of a woman removing her gloves in the presence of a man, or a man assisting her in this act, could signify a moment of intimacy or vulnerability. Similarly, a man giving a woman his gloves could be a sign of affection or a deeper connection.

Hats and Bonnets:

Corsets

Objects and Personal Items:

Locks of Hair

Jewellery

Books and Letters

Touch and Physical Contact:

Kissing Hands

Hand-Holding

Food and Drink:

Wine: Sharing wine or a meal in an intimate setting often suggested a prelude to deeper connection. Descriptions of characters drinking wine together in private could imply a romantic or sexual undertone.

Fruit: Certain fruits, like apples, grapes, or peaches, were laden with sexual symbolism. Eating or sharing fruit could represent temptation or indulgence. For instance, in Christina Rossetti’s poem "Goblin Market", the act of eating the goblin fruit is rich with sexual symbolism.

Flora and Fauna

Flowers and Gardens:

Roses: Roses were often used to symbolise love and passion. A red rose might suggest romantic or sexual attraction, while a wilted rose could imply lost innocence or sexual ruin.

Lilies: Lilies, especially white ones, represented purity but could also suggest a contrasting theme when associated with a fallen or tarnished character.

Garden Settings: Scenes set in secluded gardens or amongst lush, overgrown vegetation often hinted at secret or forbidden encounters. Descriptions of characters wandering through or tending to gardens could imply sexual exploration or awakening.

Flowers Blooming or Opening:  The blooming of flowers often represented sexual awakening or the act of losing one's virginity.

Nature Imagery:

Rivers and Water: Flowing water and rivers often symbolised sexual desire and the act of lovemaking. For instance, in "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" by Thomas Hardy, Tess's encounter with Alec d'Urberville is often described with metaphors of nature and fluidity.

Storms and Weather: Storms, with their intense energy and sudden outbursts, were frequently used to symbolise sexual passion or climactic moments.

Birds and Beasts:

Animals, especially those that are wild or predatory, often symbolised primal sexual instincts and desires. The taming or interaction with these animals could imply a character’s grappling with their own sexuality.

Fire and Heat

✧ Phrases and Sayings

Euphemistic Language

Descriptive Phrasing

Dialogue and Confessions

Private Spaces:

Secluded or Dimly Lit Rooms: Scenes set in private, darkened rooms often suggested clandestine sexual encounters. The privacy of the setting allows authors to imply what could not be explicitly stated. In Wilkie Collins’s "The Woman in White", many key interactions happen in secluded spaces, hinting at secrets and hidden desires.

Dreams and Fantasies:

Dream Sequences:

Dreams and fantasies were used to explore a character’s subconscious desires and fears, often revealing their suppressed sexual longings. These sequences provided a socially acceptable way to delve into erotic themes.

Hallucinations and Madness:

Moments of madness or hallucination could serve as a metaphor for overwhelming passion or uncontrollable sexual desire. These states allowed characters to express forbidden feelings in a way that was metaphorically safe.

Physical Interactions and Horror

Touch and Proximity as Menace:

Unwanted or Forced Touch: In horror, touch that is typically a sign of affection or intimacy becomes a source of fear.

Physical Closeness in Horror Settings: Close proximity in dark, secluded places amplifies the sense of claustrophobia and vulnerability, turning what could be an intimate setting into one fraught with terror.

Undress and Exposure in Horror:

Loosening Corsets and Vulnerability: The act of undressing or loosening clothing, which can be a prelude to intimacy, in horror often leaves characters vulnerable to attack or exposure of their deepest fears.

Food and Consumption in Horror

Cannibalism and Vampirism:

Blood as Sexual and Vital Fluid: The act of consuming blood, as in vampirism, blends the themes of sustenance and sexual exchange. The vampire's bite becomes a metaphor for both sexual penetration and the transfer of life force.

Example: "Dracula" is a prime example where blood consumption is deeply eroticized, with Dracula’s victims often portrayed in a state of ecstatic submission as he drains their blood.

Food as a Lure: Food and feasting, typically symbols of pleasure and indulgence, in horror contexts can be used to lure victims into dangerous situations.

Example: In "Goblin Market" by Christina Rossetti, the goblins’ fruit is both irresistibly tempting and dangerous, representing a forbidden and potentially fatal indulgence.

Plot and Character Dynamics in Horror

Power and Domination:

Common Dynamics with a Dark Twist

Predators and Victims: Characters who prey on others are often literal monsters in horror, representing the loss of control or innocence.

Secrecy and Concealment:

Hidden Desires and Monstrous Revelations: Characters who conceal their true identities or desires often find these hidden aspects manifesting as monstrous or terrifying in horror narratives, suggesting that repression can lead to dire consequences.

Clandestine Meetings and Forbidden Encounters: Secret meetings and forbidden relationships, often tinged with sexual implications, add an element of danger and fear, suggesting that transgressing social norms leads to horror.

Common Themes in Victorian Horror

Duality and the Doppelgänger:

Theme: The concept of duality, where a character has a hidden, darker side, or encounters a double (doppelgänger), often symbolises the internal conflict between good and evil within individuals.

Connection: This theme reflects Victorian anxieties about identity, morality, and the consequences of repressing one’s darker impulses.

Gothic and Supernatural Elements:

Theme: Victorian horror is rich with Gothic elements such as haunted houses, dark landscapes, and supernatural beings. These elements create a sense of dread and evoke the mysteries of the unknown.

Connection: The Gothic setting often serves as a backdrop for exploring human fears, isolation, and the impact of the supernatural on everyday life.

Decay and Degeneration:

Theme: The fear of decay and degeneration, both physical and moral, is a recurring motif. This theme often examines the decline of individuals, families, or societies and the consequences of corruption and vice.

Connection: This theme mirrors Victorian concerns about the erosion of social and moral values amidst rapid industrial and social changes.

Madness and Psychological Horror:

Theme: The exploration of madness and psychological horror delves into the fragility of the human mind and the terror of losing one's sanity. This often includes hallucinations, obsessions, and the thin line between reality and delusion.

Connection: This theme resonates with Victorian fears of mental illness, the limitations of medical knowledge, and the impact of societal pressures on mental health.

Forbidden Knowledge and the Faustian Bargain:

Theme: The pursuit of forbidden knowledge and the resulting consequences is a central theme. Characters who seek power, immortality, or forbidden truths often pay a heavy price, reminiscent of the Faustian bargain.

Connection: This theme highlights Victorian anxieties about scientific progress, moral boundaries, and the potential hubris of human ambition.

The Uncanny and the Unknown:

Theme: The uncanny involves the strange and unfamiliar becoming eerily familiar, often unsettling the reader and characters. It blurs the lines between reality and the supernatural, invoking fear and discomfort.

Connection: This theme taps into Victorian fears of the unknown, the foreign, and the otherworldly, reflecting broader anxieties about social and cultural boundaries.

Death and the Afterlife:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently grapples with themes of death and the afterlife, exploring the fear of mortality, the possibility of an afterlife, and encounters with the dead or undead.

Connection: These themes reflect Victorian preoccupations with death, the spiritual realm, and the possibility of life beyond death, often intensified by the era's high mortality rates and interest in spiritualism.

Isolation and Alienation:

Theme: Isolation and alienation are prevalent themes, often highlighting characters who are physically or emotionally detached from society, leading to their vulnerability and descent into despair or madness.

Connection: This theme resonates with the Victorian experience of industrialization and urbanization, which often led to feelings of disconnection and loneliness.

Class and Social Anxiety:

Theme: Victorian horror often explores themes of class and social anxiety, including the fear of losing social status, the consequences of poverty, and the tension between different social classes.

Connection: This theme reflects the rigid class structures of Victorian society and the fears and tensions that arose from social mobility and economic disparity.

Moral Corruption and Hypocrisy:

Theme: Victorian horror frequently critiques the era’s moral standards and exposes the hypocrisy of societal norms. Characters who appear virtuous often harbor dark secrets or engage in morally dubious activities.

Connection: This theme mirrors the Victorian concern with appearances and the underlying tension between public propriety and private desires.

The Five Pillars of Victorian Horror & The Five Love Interests

The Supernatural and the Gothic (Ais)

Essence: Victorian horror often revolves around the supernatural, blending Gothic elements to evoke a sense of dread and otherworldly terror. This includes ghosts, vampires, haunted houses, and curses, which create an atmosphere where the boundaries between the natural and the supernatural blur.

Impact: The use of Gothic settings and supernatural phenomena provides a backdrop for exploring deeper themes of fear, mortality, and the unknown.

Psychological Depth and Madness (Vere)

Essence: Victorian horror delves into the complexities of the human mind, exploring themes of madness, obsession, and the psychological effects of fear and trauma. Characters often grapple with their sanity, facing inner demons as terrifying as any external threat.

Impact: This focus on psychological horror allows for a deeper exploration of character motivations and the impact of societal pressures.

Moral Corruption and the Double Life (Leander)

Essence: Themes of moral corruption and the duality of human nature are central to Victorian horror. Characters often lead double lives, presenting a veneer of respectability while concealing dark, sinful secrets. This tension between outward appearances and hidden truths reflects the era’s social hypocrisy and fear of scandal.

Impact: These themes critique Victorian society’s emphasis on propriety and the dangerous consequences of repressing one’s true nature. The idea of a double life or hidden self adds to the horror by suggesting that evil can reside within anyone, masked by a facade of normalcy.

Decay, Degeneration, and Disease (Kuras)

Essence: The themes of physical and moral decay, societal degeneration, and disease permeate Victorian horror. These motifs symbolise the fragility of human life and the inevitability of decline, reflecting the anxieties of a society grappling with rapid change and uncertain futures.

Impact: By focusing on decay and degeneration, Victorian horror underscores the transient nature of life and the ever-present threat of corruption and decline, whether through ageing, moral compromise, or societal breakdown.

Isolation and Alienation (Mhin)

Essence: Isolation and alienation are pervasive themes in Victorian horror, often depicted through characters who are physically or emotionally cut off from society. This separation heightens their vulnerability to external threats and internal fears.

Impact: Isolation serves to intensify the psychological tension and sense of dread, as characters confront their fears alone. It also reflects the era’s social and existential anxieties, including the fear of being disconnected or outcast from society.

Generally, I believe each LI connects with a pillair (as seen above). Perhaps by looking at the archetypes we could deduce propable endings and route elements.

Forgive me, for the following part is MESSY;

Ais

Vere

Leander

Kuras

Mhin

[justinspoliticalcorner]

ANNA BONESTEEL AND EVAN GREER at Them:

Pride Month is over. As the “LOVE IS LOVE” banners come down and companies lose the rainbow gradients from their logos, we’re faced with a painful truth: LGBTQ+ people, especially the most marginalized among us, are in the crosshairs of a queerphobic backlash that is targeting our health, our histories, and especially our youth. And things are getting worse, not better. According to NPR, half of all US states now ban gender-affirming care for people under 18. Eight states now censor LGBTQ+ issues from school curricula via “Don’t Say Gay” laws, and two more states are considering similar legislation this year. The number-one book targeted for censorship is a graphic novel memoir about gender identity.

This June, Democratic lawmakers marched in Pride parades and spoke on stages, vowing to protect our community and fight back against legislative attacks on queer youth. But some of these same lawmakers are actively pushing federal legislation that would cut LGBTQ+ youth off from resources, information, and communities that can save their lives. Currently, 38 Democratic senators support the Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA), a bill that is vocally opposed by many queer and trans youth, along with a coalition of human rights and LGBTQ+ groups. As a queer- and trans-led advocacy group focused on the ways technology impacts human rights, our organization, Fight for the Future, has seen bills like KOSA before: misguided internet bills that try to solve real problems, but ultimately throw marginalized people under the bus by expanding censorship and surveillance rather than addressing corporate abuses. KOSA’s most obvious predecessor is SESTA/FOSTA, a Trump-era bill that its supporters claimed would clamp down on online sex trafficking. Instead, the bill did almost nothing to accomplish its goal, and has actively harmed LGBTQ+ people and sex workers whose harm-reduction resources were decimated by the subsequent crackdown on online speech.

Like SESTA/FOSTA, some of KOSA’s supporters have positive intent. Many lawmakers and organizations support KOSA because they are concerned about real harms caused by Big Tech, like addictive design features and manipulative algorithms. But, also like SESTA/FOSTA, KOSA doesn’t touch the core issues with Big Tech’s extractive, exploitative business model. Instead, KOSA relies on a “duty of care” model that will pressure social platforms to suppress any speech the government is willing to argue makes kids “depressed” or “anxious.”

Under KOSA, platforms could be sued for recommending a potentially depression- or anxiety-inducing video to anyone under 18. We know from past experience that in order to protect their bottom line, social media companies will overcompensate and actively suppress posts and groups about gender identity, sexuality, abortion — anything they’re worried the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) could be willing to argue “harms” kids. How do you think a potential Trump administration’s FTC would use that kind of authority?

Other features of the bill stretch its censorship potential further. Despite language claiming that the bill does not require platforms to conduct “age verification,” to meaningfully comply with the law, platforms will have to know who is under 18. This means they’ll institute invasive age verification systems or age-gating, which can completely cut off access for LGBTQ+ youth who have unsupportive parents, and/or make it unsafe for queer people to access online resources anonymously. KOSA creates powerful new ways for the government to interfere with online speech. For this reason, the bill is like catnip to extreme right-wing groups like the Heritage Foundation, the coordinators of Project 2025, who have explicitly said they want to use it to target LGBTQ+ content. KOSA’s lead Republican sponsor, Marsha Blackburn, has also said in an interview she wants to use KOSA to protect minors “from the transgender.”

The Kids Online Safety Act (KOSA) purports to protect children, but in reality, it’s a censorship bill that would impact LGBTQ+ youth. #StopKOSA #KOSA

[talkbycolor]

I deserve this

A/N; at this point its obvious that i inspire in rebzyyx songs

Pairing; "Your Boyfriend" x AFAB!Reader (cus people are scared of the word trans)

CW; reader becomes willing at the end i swear / unhealthy, obsessive and possesive love / sensitive topics such as mental health, depression, anxiety, fear of abandonment, dissociation, suicidal thoughts / a crazy concept: he talks about his emotions!! / non-con, violence, like, i cry while i masturbate

It's quite blurry trying to remember how it all started, it seemed harmless to accept a date from a stranger, he gave you a beautiful rose and was quite kind to you.

Feeling that people could like you, that someone could be romantically interested in you, because of who you are, your personality, that they knew your… desires?

Because you had dreams, of course.

…

Your dream was to live, to live a quiet life, a stable, pleasant job, with good pay, a normal and peaceful life, where the deep emptiness in your heart was non-existent, years had passed and the monotonous feeling did not disappear, you had already accepted the pain, after all, if you felt that constantly it was probably because you did something wrong at some point, right?

But that was a personal dream that would never be shared.

And it's not like that matters now, not when you're in… A room, that's funny, your last memory is of Peter slamming you against the table to tie your limbs since their last date didn't end as expected and It was time to go home.

Return to an empty home, for what? Peter was more than willing to take care of you, why was he so scary? Accepting it would have made things easier, but you ruined everything by trying to run away, you even fought tooth and nail, that was too pathetic now that you remember it, maybe you DO deserve all the shit that is happening.

You could have saved yourself so much terror and attacks.

"PETER ENOUGH! PLEASE! LET ME GO! NO! NO! FUCK, PLEASE!" You tore out your throat with terrified screams and tried to claw at his skin until your fingers were bloody, biting the hands that tried to stop your screams, hitting his face with your elbows and kicking him away, crawling like a dying animal away from him. "PETER!" You sobbed sharply before losing consciousness.

But nothing worked, resisting only made all that shit worse and now you were tied up, in Your boyfriend's old clothes.

You barely remember how you got to that place, or if time passed, anyway that doesn't matter anymore, from one day to the next you find a very small piece of clothing that turned out to be yours, time passed, your body grew but your mind didn't, they keep lying but you know that your life will depend on how well you do it.

And you're not doing it right, you tried to adopt toxic happiness but you couldn't even maintain it for a while before exploding, sadness was already an everyday thing and you just weren't feeling it anymore.

"Dear?"

Just peace please, how hard could that be? It was annoying, you even felt angry for feeling so empty, because people were so rude and the constant rejection killed you socially.

It was hard to breathe, wasn't it?

"Love? Do you hear me?"

It feels like the end, your soul is bleeding, you wish your stupid job made you feel a little more alive and motivated to continue.

And now you have done so many things to escape from that monster that pulls you back to the room to devour you under the bed.

"Darling!" Your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room, making you look at him once and for all, your eyes tired despite having been unconscious most of the time.

"…" You wanted to respond, really, but what were you supposed to say?

"You must be exhausted, you didn't even touch dinner" It was a tricky phrase, he had tried to feed you since you were tied up.

"Peter-…"

"I already told you that I prefer to be called other way, honey" He responded with a smile and a definitely not irritated tone.

"I want to sleep" He left your lips, he was being so caring, taking care of your health.

He kidnapped you.

And you couldn't even thank him for it.

He knocked you out.

You really were an ungrateful shit, weren't you?

He locked you up.

You wanted to return the signs of affection.

Soon the ropes left your body, Peter helped you stand up and you both walked to the bedroom, he was still carrying a small plate with a light dinner, he refused to let you go to bed without having eaten dinner.

Once in bed, he made sure that you had a proper dinner, and he helped you change your clothes so that you would be comfortable in bed, he also did the same with his attire and now you were both lying down. It always made your stomach churn when he looked at your half-naked body.

"Dear" He murmured next to you while you tried to sleep as soon as possible, so many things had happened those last few days that the only way out was to sleep, you had probably already been fired from your job for not showing up. "Honey, love, darling," he said sweetly as his hand went up to your cheek, he simply looked at you with a huge and probably painful smile on his face, almost tattooed, you made him so happy with your mere presence.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, your mind still cloudy enough to refuse anything, so you just went up to kiss him, the room was very dark and there weren't even crickets echoing at night, the amount of silence was overwhelming… of course, that didn't count the lip-smacking they shared.

So it continued.

For a long time.

"Pet-…uhm, I mean, honey, I'm tired and I want to sleep" You interrupted the honey session.

"Please, you don't have to do anything, just let me love you, darling" his voice was soft, soothing to that darkness but not to the painful weight in your heart and the knot in your stomach, his touches felt strange.

You know that's wrong, you don't like it.

You didn't stop him, just like he said, you let him love you as you closed your eyes and a buzzing sound echoed in your head, like television static, your bottom clothes had disappeared, but that didn't matter.

You couldn't hear anything, you didn't see anything, your body reacted but your mind was very far from that place, you wandered through your memories, fantasies of a life you were never going to have.

It was really digging into your cunt, huh? Even when your mind wanted to flee somewhere else, it was undeniable how he held your thighs and you gasped heavily with each thrust.

His member was still dripping his seed, did he use protection? You don't know, you don't care.

It doesn't matter.

B e cau se s oon y o u w il l b e d ea d.

"Honey? Didn't you enjoy it?" Peter asked with a worried frown.

What the hell is wrong with you? Do you no longer have respect for yourself? You know it's going to hurt you.

Don't you mind dying? You lost hope and you don't even try to help yourself anymore, damned and pathetic attempt at being human, really unnecessary.

"Honey…" Peter caressed your cheeks and brought his forehead to yours, sighing softly and carrying your body to the bathroom in the room.

You didn't say anything either, you just felt how it was cleaning your body, the water was warm, the bathtub full of bubbles, and it smelled pretty good, like coconut soap. Peter hummed quietly as he treated your body with the utmost affection, you were sure he was whispering things in your ear but you were barely aware of your surroundings.

When your eyes finally focused on something you could see the ceiling of the room thanks to the moonlight, Peter was behind you, hugging your body, caressing your hair, and sniffing the soapy fragrance.

"You are so sweet, so unique, so kind, so special to me, a truly exceptional person, I will do everything to make you feel comfortable, darling, I love you so much, my adorable-…"

"Peter"

"… Yes love?" This time he didn't argue about that name, you were finally talking and that was good.

"I'm sorry I feel so alone, I know you're here but…" You wish you could give him an answer but that was something even you hadn't figured out yet.

"It's okay, honey, I'll be with you to hold you, forever."

♡

[linddzz]

While yes, Viktor is confident too, but...

This man isn't shy? He's hyperventilating and nervous-tapping over the idea of giving a speech!

This man?

I guess Im not getting across like, the Vibe that I always see that bothers me? Viktor's got the social anxiety for sure, and it's VERY fair to assume that his condition makes him even more self conscious to be up in front of a crowd full of topsiders. He's pretty clear in episode 1 that he's aware of how topsiders see him and his cane use, and that's before his disability is even more visible.

But ALSO very few people ARE good on a stage in front of tons of people. And also there's a very specific connotation to "shy" that is beyond social anxiety.

Shyness to me, is its own flavor of social anxiety plus timidness. The actual definition is a bashful, timid nervousness. It has connotations of the wilting flower personality. Viktor, even when he's quiet around other people doesn't come across as nervous or timid in the slightest. His first introduction has him VERY confident and collected surrounded by enforcers and not taking Jayce being snappy and angry at him. As a kid there's more of an argument to be made because what awkward socially isolated kid isn't going to be shy. But at the same time he doesn't try to shrink away from Sky's attention, he still looks right back up at her, he just keeps on doing his own thing. Mostly he comes across as someone who does not know how to casually interact with people so he doesn't. He's got tunnels in his eyes lmao.

Viktor is complicated. Viktor is nuanced. It's why he's Ultimate Blorbo. He's withdrawn and awkward and not very good at interacting with people, but he's not timid about it. He is very self assured in himself.

But when I say fandom makes him shy it IS much more of the wilting flower timid woobie that I kept seeing in Season1 fics. There was SO MUCH of Viktor being the nervous soft spoken anxious thing who was just so happy Jayce was even giving him the time of day as if Viktor didn't sass Jayce about his notes right after he stopped the man from jumping lmaoooo

And idk not to be TOO OBVIOUS with my projecting but it's the part of Viktor I can relate to the most. I consider myself a quiet person who gets annoyed when people think that me being quiet = shy. I'm able to speak up well on zoom calls with colleagues and I also would rather drop dead than have to go up on a stage in front of a bunch of normal people who I know were expecting someone very different. I get nervous and shaky speaking up in front of a crowd of colleagues even! but afterwards I can go right up to people like "your presentation was insane tell me more right now." I am often quiet and uncomfortable in large social situations because I know that most people there are operating under a different wavelength than I am, I do not know what the right responses to things are, or I full on do not know how to not accidentally come across as a huge asshole and I don't want to be an asshole. And when I was younger I would have so many people come up and act like I was a little wallflower (bc oh boy can I also relate to being quiet while physically small meaning being constantly infantalized) who "didn't need to be so shy" and every time I was like "I'm not shy. I just don't feel any engagement with this conversation and I don't want to be a dick and tell you that, but if you gently tell me it's ok to talk one more time I'm gonna start biting."

(It got better as I got older bc I learned that if you're quiet but making active eye contact instead of staring off into other directions - not to avoid attention but because you're just thinking of other shit - people will stop labeling you as shy and instead say "intimidating" or "mysterious" which is also hilarious when what you're thinking about is "machine herald big naturals lmao" but it's better than being labeled "shy")

[bloodmoonmuses]

mediocre party crashers | mark lee

genre: mark x reader, fluff, strangers to... more! yk. the usual. lol

a/n: unedited, just trying to get out of my writer's block with some summer vibesssss hehe

wc: 2.1k

warnings: crude language, extensive mentions of alcohol and being intoxicated, making fun of the upper class mwahahaha...

summary: with your best friend, ningning, you crash a birthday party... that also happens to be on yacht. when you lose her in the crowd of upper class partygoers, you cross paths with a guy named mark.

In your youth, you would’ve never imagined yourself crashing a party, but being friends with Ningning has brought its own adventures over the years. You think back to the more mundane variations of such; late night grocery store runs, impromptu road trips, scratching your toxic ex’s car with your car keys… Okay, maybe mundane wasn’t the right word. However, the scale of Ning Ning’s spontaneity seemed to grow in scope- the smaller adventures of the past no longer satiating her wanderlust and adrenaline seeking tendencies. 

So here you were, standing on the deck at the edge of the water, staring at a literal yacht. 

Some friend of a friend of a cousin of the second wife of Ningning’s brother had told her about the “little'' get together that was currently underway. Apparently, as suggested by the gaudy banner shoddily attached to the side of the boat, it’s a birthday party.

The scene before you is almost a tableau; unable to be registered as real to your working-class eyes. Everyone in your line of vision is richer than rich- dripping in the kind of luxury that one can only experience when backed by multiple bloodlines of generational wealth. Some say wealth whispers, but the money these people have is shrieking at you. 

To be honest, you were surprised when Ningning said she wanted to crash this party in particular. She’s a socialite, sure, but preppies weren’t really her crowd. Apparently, this was purely a social experiment from her point of view. Ningning had even gone as far as insisting the two of you dress the part. You were clad in a pleated skirt and striped tank top, whereas Ningning was in a collared Polo dress. It kinda felt like you were at a costume party- and when you think of it that way, the whole ordeal becomes way more fun. That is, until the anxiety kicks in. 

“Ning, my love,” you begin, “How are we supposed to get into this party?” 

Ningning pouts slightly, in that cute way she does, and shrugs. 

“Just walk in?” she says as if it’s the most obvious answer ever. “There’s no bouncer, silly. It’s a yacht party.” 

With that, she swings her hips and begins strutting towards the boat. Effortlessly, she walks into the party, not even batting an eye. You waddle behind her (albeit less gracefully) and instantly lose her in a crowd of gyrating bodies. Music floods your ears, and you call out for your friend- much to no avail. When you finally accept that it’ll be impossible to pin down Ningning for the night, you decide to explore the party by yourself. 

As the night progresses, the party becomes livelier. Actually, it’s like a bunch of little parties happening in various sections of the boat. At some point, you find yourself below deck, where it’s darker, grimier.. The flashing party lights make you feel alive. People start throwing back shots, and the music gets sluttier- recession-pop EDM that’s so shrill it’s painful. However, the feeling of the bass permeating your chest gets your heart pumping and your body moving. Also, considering Ningning is still nowhere to be found, your options for socializing are limited. A part of you loves it; being surrounded by warm bodies covered in a layer of sheen- shimmering as they move in sync and the waves jostle you about. You melt away from your form, feeling entirely free. There’s a reason you like crashing parties: you get to be someone else for the night.

 When you’ve danced enough, you take a seat on a sofa to catch your breath, closing your eyes as you take winded breaths. While your eyes are still closed, you feel the sofa dip beneath you. Finally, Ningning’s back, you think. 

“Ning, can we go? I’m kinda over this ‘Members Of The 1%’ circle jerk…” you joke in an exasperated sigh.

“I think the circle jerk is happening downstairs, if that’s what you’re looking for…” The deepness of the voice that responds startles you, making you sit up and open your eyes. Then, the body attached to the voice silences you. 

You’re enraptured by this man’s beauty- that sweet face of his boring into you with an air of amusement that makes your stomach flip. You vaguely remember seeing him on the makeshift dance floor earlier in the night, but the memory is fuzzy around the edges. You’ve been tipsy (bordering on drunk) for a while now. 

Your face immediately warms up. “Shit… I meant-”

“Here for the birthday party, and not the circle jerk then?” the stranger says, cutting off your stammering. There’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and his already massive eyes are dilated, indicating that he’s had a drink or two himself.

“Uh. Yeah,” you lie (not very convincingly). 

The man nods, and you mirror him. “Johnny’s the best, isn’t he?” he says.

“Mhm. So happy we’re able to celebrate him today…”

“Yeah…” he trails, looking at you inquisitively. “-but Johnny’s birthday is in February.” 

It’s currently June. Fuck.

You begin to stammer again, wishing you’d sink into the couch beneath you. “Right! I just meant-”

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“To be honest with you… I don’t know,” you concede.

“Well, for future reference, it’s Taeil’s birthday. Isn’t it, like, Party Crasher 101 to know who the birthday boy is?”

“I’m not really crashing. At least, not in the traditional sense. I’ve been on my best behavior, all things considered.” You’re tipsy, sure, but haven’t caused much harm. Ningning, on the other hand… Lord knows what she’s been up to. She probably has a whole list of new friends at this point. (And has probably swiped a few goodies to sell on Ebay.)

“Well, I am,” the man says.

Oh? you think.

The stranger stretches his hand towards you, gesturing for you to shake it. As you do so, he introduces himself. “Mark. Habitual party crasher.”

“_______. Mediocre, but also habitual, party crasher.”

“Nice to meet you, ______.” You drop your hand from his. After an awkward pause, you stand to leave. “Uh, Where are you going?” Mark asks, panic flooding his features. What’s his deal?

“Off to tell my handler that the jig is up,” you say. When you start to leave again, Mark says, “Wait!” He grasps your hand tightly, shockwaves shooting up your arm from the contact. For a brief moment, you’re enamored. The remnants of the sunset give the room an orange glow and Mark looks golden. His eyes are twinkling.  

However, you snap out of your reverie quickly. When you give Mark a look, one that says “Who the fuck do you think you are?”, he quickly drops your hand from his hold. You snatch your hand away. Now, it’s Mark’s turn to stammer through a blunder.

 “So I was wondering…do you want a tour of the boat?” he asks lamely.

You give him the up-down. He’s in bright orange pants and rugby stripes. A bit dorky, but cute. His brown hair falls into his eyes delicately, making his entire demeanor more… boyish. Even the redness across his cheeks (that’s also spreading to his neck) just makes him seem so inviting. You’re drawn to him like fire- warm, bright and hypnotizing. 

You’re overtaken with the urge to see just how profusely you can make him blush- to see him in his skittish glory at the hands of your teasing. Before you get a chance to act on this, however, Ningning bounds into the room. She’s been swimming, as suggested by her wet hair and swimsuit cover. You notice a new bracelet as well. 

“Babe, they’re about to sing Happy Birthday. Free cake!” Ningning squeals. As she pulls you out of the room, you flash Mark an apologetic look. 

The partygoers gather on the deck, the setting sun shining indigo against deep  water. It’s breathtaking. You could absolutely get used to this. A crowd forms around a table with a birthday cake at the center, and you attempt to scan the area for Mark. 

As people begin to sing (to Taeil, not Johnny), you feel someone sidle up next to you. When you turn to see that it’s Mark, you smile. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You lock eyes with him, heart thumping similarly to when the dance music was coursing through your veins. “Hi.”

Mark rubs his neck with his hand, sheepishly trying to pick up where the two of you left off. “So I was gonna ask-”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUU…” the crowd breaks out into song enthusiastically, drowning out Mark’s voice. 

“What?!” you yell, leaning in to listen.

Mark tries to project over the (horrible) singing. “I was saying we should-”

“Huh!?”

Before you realize it, the birthday song has come to a close.

“Do you still want a tour of the boat!?” Mark practically screams. His voice cuts through the sudden silence like a knife. It’s incredibly embarrassing and Mark’s entire face turns bright red.

Taeil looks at the two of you, quirking a brow confusedly. “Um… who are you?” he asks, looking back and forth between you and Mark. 

“Uh… Ningning’s friend.” 

“Mark. Just… Mark.” He’s beet red. 

“Oh. Nice to meet you both,” Taeil says. Everyone resumes the party, firing off confetti and popping some (very expensive) champagne. The music resumes as well, starting back up the party, and you look around to see that Mark has disappeared. Again.

“Gonna try to sneak some cake, then we can head out. Meet back here in 10?” Ningning says. You nod, and make your way to the cabins below deck. You can’t let Mark go.

The first door you open, the room is empty. At the second door you reach, you hear moans, so you immediately run in the opposite direction. The third door you wander to swings open just as you reach for the knob, and out walks the man of the hour, Mark.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you say. 

“Do you still wanna-”

“Let’s just chat on the deck. Fuck the tour,” you conclude with a giggle. 

“Sounds good to me. I don’t know my way around anyway.” 

At this, you chuckle, and the two of you walk to a pair of lounge chairs. The moon is out, little fairy lights strewn on the railing making the air feel magical. The breeze is just a little too cool. Mark must notice this, because he takes off his dress shirt and drapes it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mutter. 

“Do you crash parties often, or is it more of an occasional thing?” Mark asks.

“Relatively often. It’s fun to be someone else for a night sometimes.”

“So the get-up is for fun?”

“Do I look like I wear Polo in my day-to-day life?” you ask. 

Mark chuckles. “I don’t know, dude. You could pass as a preppie.”

You deadpan. “That’s the meanest thing you could’ve ever said to me.”

“I’m kidding. Seriously though, you’re, like, way cooler than anyone else here. I saw you dancing and-”

“You saw that?!” you squeal.

Before responding, Mark stands from his lounge chair to sit next to you. He adjusts the shirt that is still draped over your shoulders, his touch warming you up more than the garment has in the last few minutes. You’re a goner.

For a moment, the two of you bask in each other’s energy, the slight rocking of the boat and sound of crashing waves lulling you into effortless serenity.

“You’re so free.” Mark bores into you again and it’s suffocating. You know nothing about him, yet you’re privy to the lifetimes behind his eyes. Perhaps you’ve been a part of one of them- a message in a bottle finally surfacing on a beach’s shore. You believe in the existence of fate, but only for the night. 

“That’s all I’m saying,” Mark continues.

You shake off the feeling of being so seen, breaking his hypnotizing eye contact. Untangling yourself from his quiet multitudes. 

“What about you? Do you crash parties often?”

“Weddings, usually. Mostly for the cake. Bought a tux for it and everything.”

“A professional. I’m impressed,” you say.

You look out to the water, feeling its breeze envelope you, and a shiver runs through your body.

Mark is bashful again, head dipping slightly as he suggests, “We should crash a party together sometime.”

Your eyes return to him as you say, “For sure.”

“Does that mean I can get your number?” You take Mark’s  phone wordlessly, and enter your number, after which Mark says, “Apparently that Johnny guy is having a rodeo themed party next week… Wanna go?”

“And be mediocre party crashers together? Definitely.”

[reason-with-the-underdog]

workaholic kaveh (bc career>therapy)

love the hc where kaveh, fresh off the heels of the thesis breakup w alhaitham, basically just launches himself into massive overwork

bc u can't dwell if u're constantly working! 🧠

after the palace of alcazarzaray's second rebuild, that was the first free time he's had in years

bc he had to probably do a ton of extra work for graduation after their thesis failed, he mentions in his vl's that he was overworked by his seniors at his first job post-graduation, and he achieved a TON portfolio-wise in the 5-10 years since he left the akademiya

the benefit of all this overwork is:

his reputation is GREAT even tho his clients grumble about his attention to aesthetics🙄

he doesn't need to think about his personal problems! at all! absolutely no time for that!!

which includes never needing to reflect on the roots of the breakup

so in the wake of his self-inflicted bankruptcy post-palace construction... the workaholic that is kaveh finally has free time

and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it

and he's not comfortable bc he's:

bankrupt

homeless

alternating between being incredibly day drunk/hung over

finishing a massive creative project is just EXHAUSTING. like so much energy and passion and emotional investment was put into that palace, and now he's getting congratulated for the palace while also having to pretend like he's totally hanging around a tavern 24/7 bc he WANTS to be there (and not for any other reason)

and with free time to think about, well, everything

oh how the insecurities & anxieties & Bad Thoughts start to creep in🥲

but who can kaveh talk to about this? he can't let anyone know he's ruined by his greatest work yet (he can't let the palace be tarnished by his bankruptcy)

but kaveh's also incredibly strong emotionally, despite all of his troubles

he's able to redesign the 2nd floor of lambad's tavern in literally less than the 2 weeks he stayed there, and he kept up his social image of the famed architect celebrating a masterpiece of the ages

i think a lot about how kaveh seems uncomfortable in times of rest and tranquility... that bad hours and urgent deadlines and a too big workload done pro bono (for free) feels easier/more natural...

aka why he's so good at denial & Not Thinking about certain facts in his life 🙈

such as why alhaitham might have extended a helping hand and offered his home to kaveh without seeming to get much in return...

altho as part of kaveh's character arc, which includes reconciling with alhaitham post-PoP, he later starts to have an inkling...

the big question ofc is will he process /why/ alhaitham helped 😆

but in general i think keeping busy as a way to Not Think contributed a great deal to why kaveh's relationship and reactions to alhaitham's behaviors/words changes so much from when we first meet him in the Sumeru AQ to now (his bday letter anyways)

consider this:

alhaitham had 2+ years of akademiya after the thesis breakup (less if he graduated early ig, but regardless, years) without his most significant friend/influence/confidant around so he had a lot of time to process what happened and to make changes from then

meanwhile kaveh's constantly caught off guard by the differences in his expectations of how alhaitham would react (based off of akademiya-era alhaitham)

vs alhaitham's current-day behavior

like ofc its normal that people change after several years and after not being in school, but kaveh basically froze himself and his understandings of alhaitham's character in time, like a fly in amber

so he has to make much more obvious changes in his behavior to catch up on all those lost years, which we see happening in real time in canon!

alhaitham changes too (look at him distracting kaveh from his depression like a champ in kaveh's hangout! uh huh he really heard us thru his noise cancelling headphones? 🤨)

but they're more subtle shifts

anyways hyv did so good when they cooked up kaveh and alhaitham dkfdlijdk

[interstellarsystem]

Disorder Differences in Systemmates

Systemmates share the same brain, which often leads to the assumption that they're all affected the same by the brain itself. Its wiring, its abilities, and its disabilities. But symptom holders or those with intra-disorders are fairly common--at least in circles we run in--and they're not often talked about for fear of fakeclaiming or appearing ableist. We have headmates who are affected in all sorts of different ways by our disabilities. Some find things harder than others, while others actually find some tasks or symptoms easier to manage. It absolutely varies from headmate to headmate, which makes certain headmates better suited for fronting during certain times than others.

Merlin is more affected by our psychosis, particularly hallucinations, and xe tends to be more susceptible to paranoia. Mystery is a psychosis holder too, and has more positive symptoms like hallucinations than the rest of us, but is less affected negatively by it. It often hallucinates and falls into delusional thinking, but it's not really too bothered by it. So Mystery is a good choice for someone to front when we're having a psychotic episode. Sometimes, having Merlin cofront with Mystery makes it easier for Merlin to not be so susceptible to xyr symptoms.

I (Martin) have more obvious anxiety than the rest of us, and struggle much more in social situations. I'm much better at hyperfocusing on tasks, though. So I'm better suited for staying home and working on whatever the current project we have at the time, or keeping our to-do lists in check. Vince on the other hand is calm in most social situations that are more professional--so he's good for business meetings and such. In more casual conversation though, Vena and Merlin are much better at it and better suited to non-professional social groups.

Vince is an intra-NPD holder and also holds stronger symptoms of our BPD. He struggles immensely with percieved rejection, much more than the rest of us. But he also almost completely lacks empathy, which makes it much easier for him to be calm and logical in stressful situations. He finds it easier to help friends and those he cares about during stressful times because he's not weighed down by feeling their emotions--whereas the rest of us might break down from stress.

We talk a bit about mental disability differences in headmates more than those who differ physically. Somehow it seems more controvertial to mention that we have headmates that differ with physical symptoms while even in safe system spaces. It seems like most people (us somewhat included) mainly think of symptom holders as a mental disorder thing--a line of thinking we're trying to dispel. Headmates can have different disabilities and symptoms of all kinds, and it's not ableist or "harmful" to know that and speak about it. Headmates with different conditions to the body need to be recognised more.

Mike needed a cane in his memories and he absolutely needs our cane when he fronts more than the rest of us. He feels more at home and like himself having a cane by his side here, though, so it's good we already had one. I (Martin) need it more too--my joints are just more prone to pain. But our cane folds up nicely into our bag, so if we switch out in public, it's always with us just in case. Even if it's silly, we feel safer having a cane too--I mean, it's a metal pole. We're out as trans and clearly not your Regular Society Member, so it provides some feeling of safety to have.

Jayfeather was blind before, and since coming here he sure can see now, but he's much more light sensitive than the rest of us. The feeling of being able to see was nice at first, even if it was foreign, but sometimes he feels it's not worth the hassle. He needs to wear sunglasses when fronting because his eyes just end up hurting from even small amounts of light. Crowley is the same, except he wasn't blind in his memories--he just got used to always wearing sunglasses in his life to hide how his eyes looked, and needs them here now. They're both more prone to migraines due to this.

Merlin is more shaky on his feet than others who front often. His legs are digitigrade and in headspace he has his wings and tail to balance him there--but in the body, he doesn't have any of that. His legs are the wrong shape and he has no counterweight to his posture. Even with our cane, he's more prone to tripping than most.

Mystery was a godlike being that didn't need to eat human food, or any physical food at all. It often forgets that eating, sleeping and going to the bathroom are things the body needs to do, because it doesn't often feel the need to do them. That can be good if we're running low on food, or if we can't eat for a while such as before a medical procedure though, so it's useful in its own way. Mystery is also not used to using its hands for intricate things like tying shoelaces, as it's hands before we're longer, bigger, and mainly nonphysical. It didn't need to be intricate, so it's hard for it to do things others in here can.

There's so many more examples in our system. The thing is, there can be positives and negatives to any disorder, really--and headmates are no different with that. We don't necessarily assign headmates "roles" or "jobs" based on their symptoms or lack thereof, but for us to function better as a collective, people tend to gravitate toward doing certain things they know others can't. It's important for us to know how we differ with our disabilities, and work around them together as best we can.

Systemmates with different symptoms aren't uncommon, and they're not mocking disabled people, or lying for some benefit. I'd argue that for some systems with symptom holders or intra-disorder holders, it's increcibly important to know about how you differ and how to work together to be functional--whatever functional means for you.

[adventuringblind]

Hey, sorry to bother you, but I had a request 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 (if those are accepted rn)

Can you do a Charles x asexual!Reader (x Max) who are in a established relationship, but since everyone makes comments about how good their sexlife must be/keeps thirsting about you, y/n eventually comes out to the public.

I'd be okay with either written or one of these social media fics.

Sincerely, an asexual person, who loves y/n fanfics, but has to navigate around way too many smut fics 🙈🙈🙈

Stop Thirsting

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Fluff

Summary: pretty much what the prompt says, and I'm too lazy to come up with something else 😂

Warnings: minor toxic media, protective boyfriends

Notes: I hope I did your request justice!! I'm not asexual so I went to a few people who are, and they said things like affection are still fine, so I wrote this along those lines. I hope this gives you something comforting!

Also, the people who make the smau's have talent I do not. Idk how they do it and I don't even know where to begin.

Masterlist

When you entered into a relationship with Max and Charles, you didn't realize the main question you'd be asked is about how you three navigate intimacy.

Its hard enough being called names from the public, but this just makes things worse.

especially since you opt not to join them in their bedroom activities. You can only go so far before the mere idea of getting more intimate makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Something both boys understand and have made it a point to respect your boundaries.

The media, however, has not.

You’ve not come out to the world. The questions about everything just make you uncomfortable. But now you’re not sure what’s worse, everyone thirsting over you and the media being invasive, or the questions that come about your asexuality.

You throw your phone off to the side. The boys shoot looks of concern at each other and you. You’re heavy sighs alerting them that something is wrong.

“Chéri? Something the matter?” Charles moves from his spread out place on the floor next to you. You lean into him when he sits and curl up onto yourself.

“Just tired of everyone talking about our supposed sex life.” You huff. “Can’t help but feel I’m doing something wrong sometimes.”

Max leans forward in the chair. His hands find his face as he ponders the situation. “I could make them stop if you wanted. I have that power.”

“Maybe I should just come out. But I’m admittedly scared to do so.”

“Whatever you choose to do Chéri, we’ll support you.”

~

An instagram post.

One from all three of you.

You posted it and haven’t looked at your phone since. Terrified about what the people would say. They already talk about your intimacy so much that this might make it worse. Your worst fears made true.

The boys spent the day making sure you were as far away from the anxiety as they could get you. Comfort food and movies have become essential.

You stayed away from the internet until the next race. Then, the media and fans became unavoidable. And you were right that they'd be all over it.

You walked into the paddock, hands intertwined as the boys tried to keep the cameras away from you.

They keep steady conversation going, attempting to distract your mind from the obvious questions the reporters are trying to ask.

It's the fans that shock you the most. Many of those there to support your boyfriends have also come supporting you.

They understand. They respect. And woth the support of Charles and Max, you feel loved.

[afreakingdork]

You Are My Sunshine, My Only Moonshine - Chapter 10

RotTMNT x Reader

Donnie and juice, just the perfect sort of parallel for this week's chapter art by @birdsnout

Rated: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/You, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/You

Warnings: POV Second Person, Gender Neutral Reader, Anxious Reader, Introverted Reader, Stuttering, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Romance, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Unrequited Love, Rejection, Aromantic Asexual Michelangelo (TMNT), Bisexual Donatello (TMNT), Pansexual Leonardo (TMNT), Lesbian Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit, Demisexual April O'Neil (TMNT), Implied Cassandra Jones | Foot Recruit/April O'Neil/Sunita, Endgame Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Panic Attacks, Sexuality Crisis, Agoraphobia, Social Anxiety, Happy Ending, Fluff

Synopsis:  You’ve lost most of your life to anxiety and fear. Now, in your late 20s, you are desperate to reclaim it and during one such outing you encounter the sun personified. With his and his similarly celestially inspired family, will you finally reach your goal or will you lose yourself along the way?

Also available on Ao3

First 💛 Previous

Donnie liked things in order.

Which was to say it didn’t have to be a specific one.

In his lab, his brother’s would often complain of the mess.

It made sense to him.

He knew exactly where his next blueprints were and that he had yet to put that lone 17/64 in. drill bit that had rolled under the cabinet beside his desk back in its pack.

That was the nature of the universe. 

It was both a state of chaos, but also one of order. 

It was a scientific debate. 

Physics was orderly and seemed to be the same everywhere one looked.

Thermodynamics, alternatively, always snuck in a bit of entropy.

There was measure in that too.

The measure of uncertainty.

As Donnie stared at the chilled set of juice boxes he had removed from the fridge, he wished his life was as cleanly packaged.

What was he doing?

Well for one, he was hunched. 

His back pinched and his hands were on the counter with his digits spread out wide. 

He was currently staring at a set of unopened beverages and very much wanted to drink one.

It was his whole reason for finally reentering the house after a dreadful night of attempting to sleep outside before going to bunk in the tank.

He’d bought a cabin for the family.

If his father continued to insist on a nature reprieve then they could at least rough it in a consistent manner.

They never cared. 

They hadn’t even thanked him. 

They made jokes. 

He was ridiculed for drinking delicious apple concentrate.

So what if he was almost 30?

These came in a convenient form factor, had an adequate amount, and were tasty.

Simple, they were so simple.

You were simple too once.

You made sense as a villain, and then you made sense as a scaredy cat.

The second part didn’t make as much sense to him personally, but it still stood as a sort of fact.

He chocked that up to entropy.

Whatever your reason was for putting up your fearful front was yours and not his.

What was his was Michelangelo.

His dearest baby brother.

Everyone’s favorite brother.

Minus, Mikey, of course.

They knew their rankings. It was obvious who the clear winner was. Despite his failings, Mikey was infectious. He was the heart of their group of Planeteers. As asinine as the show was and with how very little sense it made, in this case it fit. Reaching out, Donnie picked at the outer plastic that kept the many juice boxes together. A malformed plastic corner marked where the factory had mistakenly melted that outer layer a little too thickly. Their failure would be his gain as it was the perfect flap in which to tear the wrapping off.

He needed to do that.

He needed to shed this damn outer layer.

That’s what it was.

He had on a happenstance coating that kept him away from sweet nectar.

His developing crush on you.

No, he refused to call it that.

This was why he deemed it a development.

What grounds did he have?

First, he sent you to a veritable breakdown.

He had yet to mention that part to anyone else in the family and that alone was tearing him apart.

At the same time, he had no idea how to explain that he had been unusually attentive and had held a stranger close as they sobbed. 

More than once. 

A little shiver ran up his spine at the thought. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t so cool or aloof. He’d pretended to be when he was younger; when he thought those sorts of attitudes were appealing. It had all been so silly. Having only punctured the tightly packed rectangle, Donnie left the juice to make a fist on the counter.

He’d offered himself to you as the second best option.

Had that been his first failing?

Since when did he think so little of himself?

He held his own high praises in reality. He’d accepted things that others thought he shouldn’t and acknowledged others that were mutually agreed upon that he should. That was the sway of consciousness. Being aware meant having choice. Having choice meant choosing. Not choosing was a choice and he preferred to make them. There was science in that.

Reactions, equal or opposite, were those to be studied.

Was that why he watched you?

He’d long labeled the activity as his usual wariness of strangers in the lair, but he also had a propensity for deciding things without giving them enough thought.

That was his third law’s failing.

He rushed and would be forced to change his mind.

He disliked that much more than disorder.

It ranked somewhere just below pineapple on pizza.

Not that his list was exact.

Those rankings changed by nearly the second.

A jockeying scoreboard based solely on his preference.

You ranked too highly on that one.

No. 

He gave his fist a soundless bang.

You weren’t allowed on the scoreboard of things he liked.

It no longer made sense for you to be on the one he disliked.

You had to go into the neutral category.

That one was a no man’s land where he didn’t bother ranking and shoved everything he felt ambivalently about.

He didn’t care about your doe eyes.

He didn’t care about the sharp tongue that you tried to hide.

He didn’t care that he had the privilege more often than not of being the one that you didn’t stutter in front of.

He wasn’t counting.

What was there to tally?

How he’d saved you twice since?

What was that for interactions?

If anything you were some damsel in a story and happily ever after was something cowardly writers never bothered to write.

Because they couldn’t.

Because it was obvious that one only liked the other for surface level reasons.

There was no basis.

They had no real relationships.

There was trauma bonding at best.

Love stories were made by quick decisions, to see quick outcomes.

Thoughtless.

That was what he was in this regard.

That was what he’d grown to understand about emotions.

He couldn’t avoid them.

Frustratingly, he felt them too strongly for that.

They took too much time.

His low empathy regarded his tolerance for other’s feelings.

Sudden emotions were baseless.

Snap decisions were made without reason.

People needed time and awareness to make good judgment.

The heart was to emotion as the brain was to logic.

Reason was required.

If society ran on impulse desire alone then it would have been left in ruin.

The fact that many civilizations’ collapses could be traced back to inane emotional drivel proved his point.

You were some quick hit of dopamine.

You were something new and interesting for his brain to work out as you’d inadvertently tricked him.

You’d snuck your way onto his radar.

He rarely even noticed his other brothers’ fancies before you.

This time he banged both his fists.

Each turtle was different.

Not just in species, but in the sense that they were different people.

All four of them had grown up the same, but perfectly different.

Not once in their entire lives had any of their romantic interests overlapped.

They fought over more coveted items.

They squabbled for seats to their favorite movies or who actually had the rights to the video game consoles.

Those were solved with contracts.

Bargains.

They were inanimate objects to be traded.

Not people.

There had never been secret heartbreak.

No one had a crush on their brother’s crush.

It wasn’t a crush.

It was a spike in Donnie’s heart rate based on stupid chemicals that didn’t know the reality.

He refused to be the one to break a good streak.

Especially when you were Mikey’s first.

In a swipe, Donnie tore the plastic straight down the middle of the packaging. Cleanly separating eight juice boxes into two rows of four, he quieted his mind by plucking cartons out one by one. Setting them back into their tight formation, he tossed the excess trash. He then took the rapidly warming containers and placed them back in their tidy line in the fridge minus a single soldier. That one he stabbed mercilessly but cleanly with its accompanying straw.

He needed to pick back up that eco-friendly packaging design he’d been toying with for these.

Less nonsensical plastic.

Lifting the box up, he got the straw between his lips and sucked.

There it was.

That familiar feeling.

That rush of good chemicals.

It was the same as drinking juice.

Yes, that was what it was.

Nothing but a little treat that some would say was a crutch.

He could quit it if he wanted.

He could pick and choose his vices.

That was his.

His mind a sort of clear in a cluttered way, he released the box and held it up with the straw between his lips. It freed his hands up to check the closest drawers for paper. He wanted to get that package design down before the next genius idea flittered through his head.

You chose just then to appear on the other side of the counter.

Maybe he could go back to classifying you as evil.

You made eye contact and your shoulders came up for a tentative greeting. 

Donnie didn’t appear to be a morning person. 

You had heard the crinkling of plastic from the top of the stairs and thought it would be alright to come down even if the option terrified you. Though last night you had a clear preference, right now you weren’t sure which brother you wanted to run into. It felt like years had gone by since you chased a man made of sunshine. In your quest to live your life, defeat your fear, and finally be a person, you had somehow regressed on all fronts in a single night.

You had run away.

You had kicked your best friend in the face.

You had been reduced to nothing.

All because you couldn’t handle the change in a status quo that only you decided existed.  

Because you were so obsessively focused on getting through any single day.

Because you couldn’t look outside of yourself for one minute to see how you were impacting others.

Because everything you did was through the most frustrating self-absorbed lens imaginable.

You needed to talk to Mikey.

You needed to figure out what happened and not what you assume occurred.

After your little dream which you now deemed a nightmare, you had avoided sleep.

You had spent hours pouring over the events at the lake.

You’d come to realize a few things.

The first being that Mikey had no way of knowing how insecure you had felt.

You had given over to one split second reaction after another.

You had fumbled everything, but even knowing that and having all the time in the world to prepare, you still dreaded the conversation.

You knew the steps all too well. You would start with the awkward titter and dance where neither of you knew who should lead. You would talk over each other by mistake and then flounce with apologies until you were stuck in misery. It’d be followed by one of you, Mikey obviously, going first. He would try and take all blame to make everything better when in reality you were the one at fault. He had said he wanted to test the waters. He had said this was new to him. He told you to tell him if he made you uncomfortable.

That he’d stop.

Immediately. 

Instead you kicked him in the face and threw a tantrum the likes of which caused you to desecrate someone else’s home while making its tenants sleep outside. That was three scoops of your shit sundae which you topped off with whipped cream in the form of you sobbing pathetically into your friend’s older brother. A toss of sprinkles came as you’d then forced that same man to clean up after you. You then dotted your creation with the most infuriating cherry of all: you were clearly developing a crush on Donatello.

Why Donnie?

Why the one who didn’t like you?

Why the one who had been so cruel to you from the get go?

The most perfect man in the world already liked you and you turned to his closest, least interested companion and said ‘this one.’ 

You damned masochist.

You tainted everything you touched.

You hated it.

You despised yourself.

You also felt immense joy at the sight of Donnie’s face. 

Even while he looked at you like you had walked in and disturbed his meticulous work. 

You were the worst.

You had to beat these feelings back.

It couldn’t be more.

Even if you were to somehow set aside Mikey’s feelings, it seemed patently absurd to have a crush on a friend’s sibling. So many movies touched on it and every time the person in question had been some creeper.

You were the creeper.

It was only a dream.

Dreams didn’t depict what you really wanted.

Dreams were random.

Donnie was a source of comfort because he’d saved you.

You were vulnerable and your mind had filled a void.

Donnie looked adorable with that juice box dangling from his lips.

Adorable?

You wanted to sob.

By all accounts, he was a groggy mess.

The dark circles under his eyes punctured straight through his mask and his posture read a certain menace. Head tipped down, his eyes turned up against stooped lids where he was just a shy step beyond glaring. One tweak of his eyebrows and he’d hold fury, but it was all contrasted by a pop of purple color with bright red apples on it. Smearing any semblance of intimidation coming off him, the casual nature of the juice box made him seem like a guy who just wanted a little treat after a hard toil.

He straightened and looked down his beak at you. “Tell me it was worth it.”

Your expression withered. 

He was understandably upset with you.

“What… happened?”

“What didn’t?” He sneered openly and plucked the juice from his mouth. “Let’s begin: There were only porch chairs to sleep on! Mikey tossed and turned in an emergency blanket because, for some reason, he thought he might freeze even though the temperature is nowhere near uncomfortable! There were bugs! I was then banished to the tank only to find my secret cot there in ruins! I suspect Leo, but the reinforced interior meant I couldn’t access the cabin’s Wi-Fi to review my security footage!”

You imagined the only good left in these woods was you could bury your own body and no one would presumably find you. “Donnie… I’m s-so sorry… this is all-!”

“Tell me.”

You blinked out of your misery for shock.

“It was worth it!” He outright bellowed with a twitching eye.

“It…”

Lie.

You needed to lie.

Lie and not tell him you were up all night because you were afraid to dream about him a second time.

“It was…”

He gave an impatient hum.

You brought your head down. “I f-felt secure, but I couldn’t sleep. Too much happened…”

The tense moment of silence seemed to build until your gaze bottomed out on the floor.

Donnie then gave a heady sigh.

“Well…”

“Thank… I mean, thank you…”

“For what?”

You heard a sound and snuck a glance to find he’d folded his arms on the counter. “For… protecting me… for… ugh… I cried on you again…I….”  You whipped your head back and forth, frustrated with yourself. “No! I’m… I’m… tired of this! This is the third time. I keep… I hate it. I hate that I keep doing this to you. You said not to make you a third wheel and a-all I wanted was to make sure that was true. Then I went and made you something worse! You had to deal with both me and Mikey and… it’s me. I hate that I can’t keep it in. Even now…” You rubbed at your cheek hoping to shut down your scorched sinuses. “It’s… I don’t know… It feels easy to dump my bad emotions on you because I feel like you understand?”

You could feel him staring.

“Why would you…?” You gestured down yourself with a bitter hand. “… understand this? Why? We’re nothing alike and it’s unfair of me to think we are. I can’t seem to stop taking advantage of your kindness...”

“Your thought processes are boring.”

Your gaze snapped to his.

His lids were lulled.

You could only pop an incensed plosive.

The corner of his lip quirked. “How do you feel now?”

“A-annoyed?!”

He blossomed into a smirk. “This is why I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what?”

“That you’re actually scared.” He rounded the counter.

“I am! You have no idea-!”

“I don’t.” He approached and used his juice box to point at you. “You just said that. You don’t know me and I don’t know you well enough at all, but I know when to throw out a grounding technique so it will be successful.”

“Grounding…?” You trailed off.

“It’s as if your mind gets stuck.” He pointed one digit and curled the others like a gun to his temple. “Spiraling. Catastrophizing. Doomsaying. What have you. However, if something unexpected is said, it interrupts the feedback loop.”

You shirked the information and looked off to the side.

“Maybe your baseline is shy. Maybe you’ve been rightfully wounded. Maybe you have a minute social battery. Maybe you have anxiety disorder. On and on, but from what I’ve seen…” He slid an arm along the counter to tip his body and try to catch a glimpse of your face.

You shared a small portion.

“I’ve seen you fight back. I’ve seen you furious when you’ve been wronged. I’ve heard you blurt out raw thought. It’s hard not to imagine that’s you.” His face then contorted with disgust and he rose up with you chasing after. “This is where Leo would say something overt like ‘you’re a fighter, champ.’”

“I doubt he’d call me ‘champ.’”

“True, it will be something equally old man worthy. Count your days.” Donnie rolled his eyes.

“Why… do you keep helping me? Aren’t I… a-annoying?”

“Incredibly. You’re disruptive and you’ve upturned my peaceful life!” Donnie threw a hand up in Shakespearean dismay.

You watched on with wide eyes.

He held the pose for several seconds before a smarmy smile turned on you.

“Was that another grounding!?”

“No.” He chuckled.

“Wha-?! Hey!”

“Sometimes a sentence needs a little pizazz. I appreciate theatrics.” With a slow blink, he tipped his head as if it couldn’t be helped. “If I must be serious then I will clarify that I don’t mind. So is the life of a hero!” 

You made a noise that was sadder than you hoped. “Because heroes help anyone…”

He cracked one eye open in your periphery before shifting to fully gawk. “That’s not-”

You turned to look, hoping you masked the hurt.

That was the truth.

You weren’t special.

You were nothing to Donnie but another soul to be saved.

He did what he did because he had to.

It was good to hear.

It was grounding.

“That’s not exactly…” Donnie looked at his juice, but said nothing more.

You filled the space so he wouldn’t have to feel bad. “Where’s Mikey?”

Donnie gave a full body twitch. 

You held firm in your question. 

His gaze shifted through a few things before he neutralized them all and gestured to the right of the door. “Around the side.” 

“Think he’s ready for me?”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah… I’m… I’m ready to apologize.”

“You!?” His head shot high.

You nodded.

“Don’t.” His teeth flashed with severity. 

“Why?” You felt confident in this. “I overreacted.”

“He should pay better attention to his friends!” 

You thought with a purse of your lips. “Does he do this to you? Miss things? With his family… I mean.”

Donnie made a disgruntled sound at having to switch thoughts so rapidly. “It… depends. He is oft for distraction, but when he is focused; it’s impenetrable. Not even pest control can save you. He’s in the walls!”

You gave a puff of amusement. “That sounds about right.” 

There was another moment of silence, but this time it had a standoff quality. 

You needed to do this. 

Donnie hadn’t tried to dissuade that. 

He was focused on who was to blame. 

Your gaze didn’t falter this time so he was the one to relent. “Go then, if you’re so sure. Patch things up, but at least let him have it a little? For me? Consider it your pittance and because I’m tired of being the only one that seems to think he can do wrong!”

You pouted your displeasure, but considered the thought aloud. “A little…” 

One of his brows rose, proud. 

You turned away from it with warmed cheeks. “Maybe! No promises…!” 

You heard him chuff. 

“Thanks, Donnie.”

He shooed you from the kitchen and as you were headed for the door you ruminated on one last thing: 

You had ruined a lumberjack’s breakfast.

If that was on Mikey’s mind he may have cared. 

Instead, he’d been stewing for hours and only stopped when heard the door open and shut. 

He could tell it was you.

It was in the little pause between hinge swings where you tried to catch the door before it slammed shut. You tried to minimize that presence of yours. He never understood why. That and Donnie always let the thing bang loudly since he vowed not to fix it after Raph broke the stopping mechanism three times in a row. The oldest brother had called it a penchant for closing doors with purpose. It had cracked Mikey up, but that wasn’t what he was supposed to focus on now.

Now was time for apologies.

Not that you should let him.

How did he even begin to explain the weird rush he’d felt?

He had to.

He knew that much.

He had seen you take it the wrong way.

That didn’t matter though because he deserved the night outside for what he’d done.

If the roles had somehow been reversed, he would have totally freaked out the same way as you had.

Spasming and kicking were classic escape techniques.

A bad guy can’t hold you down if you’re all over the place.

That was also the reason for zigzagging.

Wait, was that right?

Focus.

He turned his head in time to find you had arrived.

He’d been thinking about this for hours and he knew exactly how he was going to start. 

“You ever try to zag on ‘em?!” While the words exited his mouth, his brain screamed at the folly.

Thankfully, you’d frozen on contact with the strange question.

“That was not what I meant to say!” Mikey stared with painfully wide eyes that begged you to understand. 

You folded slightly and a hand came up.

He messed up.

He messed up so bad.

Crushes were dumb.

They made you infinitely more stupid.

That raised hand of yours became a fist. 

It met your lips. 

You used it as cover to giggle behind.

Literal song birds could have flown out of the nest of Mikey’s hair.

That was what it felt like.

“W-what does that e-even mean?” You tittered and moved to his side.

Mikey could feel his face go ooey gooey and he tried to cover it by making a chopping motion with his arms. “Zag like zigzag. They think you go one way-!”.

You gave a weak mime the other direction. “And you go a-another?”

Mikey’s smile split his face. “Good morning, Y/N.”

“Morning… Is this…?” You gestured to the chair next to his where Donnie had tried to sleep the night prior.

Where had Donnie gone?

Mikey had woken up alone. 

“Please.” Mikey reclined, cross legged.

You took your seat politely on the edge. “I heard sleeping out here was tough… I’m… I’m sorry…”

“No!” Mikey yelled a little too loud and pushed down on his knees to keep himself in place. “I slept like a baby! I was worried I’d be cold, but I conked out. I’ve always been like that. Just hit the pillow and poof! Light’s out!”

You nodded, sort of intrigued.

Sighing with the knowledge that he couldn’t pursue this light hearted conversation, he collapsed into his seat. “Yesterday.”

You bobbed to attention, ready to speak.

“Can I go first?” He tilted his head at your adorable eagerness.

Something passed over your features that looked like surprise, but also relief.

He liked the way you mixed seemingly unrelated emotions. “Yesterday.” He repeated and added a haunt to his expression. “So that must have been… confusing.”

You shuffled as if ready to flee.

A little rabbit.

He shook his head clear of that prey drive of his. “I told myself I’d start by saying you did nothing wrong.”

“That’s n-not-!”

“It’s true.” He turned openly and knew he would have to interrupt. “You didn’t. Your instinct was good and that’s good! Protect yourself! I want you to! That’s what we agreed on! I totally deserve a swift kick now and again.” He unfolded his legs just to demonstrate.

“But after… That… wasn’t…?”

“Wasn’t… how you should react? How should you?”

Taken aback, you thought it over by tracing the wooden armrest of your chair.

He wondered if you could tell he carved them.

“This is uncharted territory for both of us, I think.” He continued on, hoping to embellish your thoughts. “Like what are we even doing? We’re probably doing something no one has ever done before!”

“I don’t know about that…” You returned with a soft expression.

That fit you best.

That kind warmth to your eyes.

It was something he wanted to dip a paintbrush in and that gave him the perfect metaphor. “I had to think long and hard about what actually happened…”

“Don… Um, Donnie told me you weren’t ready to talk… last night…”

“Oh, you got my message. Yeah…” Mikey tipped and his chair creaked. “I was a mess, but not like you. Don complained and complained about the water you trailed inside and how it was going to seep and puff up the hardwood or something, but it’s sealed so like, what’s his problem!?”

Predictably, you went rigid with fear.

You very much disliked damaging places that weren’t your own. 

He liked the way you floundered when you did. 

Stupid predator thoughts.

If only he had time to tease you. 

“I came at it from all the angles like you’re supposed to with a sculpture.” Mikey mimed a looking glass. “See what’s in the stone or clay or whatever.”

“Inside…?”

“Yeah!” Mikey spun in his seat. “You can try to force the art, but it won’t art. Let it reveal itself and that’s when it gets good.”

“Oh…”

“That’s you.”

Your lips parted with a question, but you closed them as you tried to parse out which part.

He waited to see what you’d come up with.

“A… a… lump of… something t-to be molded?” You earnestly looked to him.

You were the cutest. “You’re the art.”

“I’m…?” Your head reared back in confusion.

“That’s not exactly what I thought in the moment because my thoughts are… you know… but it’s what I meant to think.” Mikey turned and searched the woods for that intangible feeling. “Looking at you, where the water dripped down your skin, the way your spine curved, and the weight of your limbs. Your skin stretched. The fabric bunched.” He rounded his hands around some invincible piece. “You were stunning… A work of art. The golden rule personified. The most beautiful landscape a painter can never in a million strokes ever dream to capture!”

Your arms blocked off your torso in a layer of protection.

That made a sad sense.

“Y-you… you… you… well… you b-blushed…?” You looked at him, nervous flush darkening your cheeks.

“I’m gonna own how corny this is because it’s super accurate: it was cupid’s arrow.”

You exploded with new shades that he wished he could wick off your skin with a swipe of bristles.

“Seriously.” He swept a hand against his knotted locks. “I think I’ve only felt something close to that like one time! It was the first time I got into Frick! Or… was it the Guggenheim…? Whatever, the first time I got to see a real painting up close. To see the brush strokes. The artistry. The masters! It felt like my face was on fire! It was pure unadulterated excitement!” His eyes raised with towering canvases. “It wasn’t life changing; it was life affirming.”

“B-but… m-me…?”

“Just like you.” He tipped his head to watch you comfortably.

You stewed with the weight of his statement.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like something else. I totally get how. I mean even I kind of thought that was the case, but when I examined what happened, it was all kneejerk. Also I’m… I’m kind of sad it wasn’t? Well not sad…” He blew a bit of a raspberry. “I don’t want to feel that way and I don’t, which is good, but it’s also…?”

“It’s o-one of those… t-things you wished… you could?”

“Yeah, but it’s a dumb one like when they give you a piece of furniture to build and add those extra pieces that aren’t listed in the instructions.”

You gave an unsure smile at his comparison. 

“Your body wasn’t provocative to me in the way most people think. For me, you were provocative to the mind! Stimulating my artistic senses and making all my brain juice’s explode!” Mikey pointed at his head from different angles and crossed his eyes.

You giggled.

“There, how’s that? I think that’s all me. If it makes sense! Wanna go?” Mikey offered a hand to pass the conversation.

You folded your legs together and tapped your knees. “You took my blame away…”

“Huh?”

“I was going to take full blame. I r-ruined everything like I… always…” You slowed, a heavy sorrow on your eyes.

His chest sank with it.

“I couldn’t face you. I hid. I made Donnie do all that work…”

“Dee woulda done that anyway. I was definitely gonna track water all over the place.”

You gave him a smile despite everything else swirling on your face.

“A shower sounds real good though…” Mikey felt his eyes drift.

You bobbed. “I-I’ll l-let y-you go-!”

He waved his hands. “I’m just saying to remind myself! Shower then breakfast because I also want to hit that griddle so hard. Now that’s provocative! Pancakes!!”

“A-art!” You tried to join his enthusiasm. 

“Hey-o!” He raised the roof. “Sorry, you were feeling bad. Wanna talk about that?”

“Uh… s-sure… I was… I wasn’t until I was… That swimsuit…” You squirmed with what was almost a shiver. “I was really uncomfortable in it. H-hearing you like it… I… It doesn’t c-change my mind, but… I’m glad… in a way that i-it wasn’t what I thought… It should be nice that you think of me that w-way, but also it’s… I… It d-doesn’t make me feel better a-about it…”

“Did it not fit?”

“No… It did…”

“Was the cut weird?”

“No, that’s not…”

“I had a pair of trunks once that would ride up which is like, hello! There’s a shell there! How’s it getting past that?!”

“Mikey…”

“Yeah, huh?”

“W-wearing it made me feel uncomfortable.”

He stared back.

That felt important.

He should put a pin in that.

A stressor on top of repetition was an obvious cry for his attention. “You… It made you feel bad?”

You gave a single tight nod.

He had to hold himself back from a protesting rant.

That was absurd and he’d heard and seen pretty much every crazy thing there was to see.

Nothing surprised him anymore.

Then say, surprise parties, but that was because his brother’s always topped themselves.

“I…”

His mind cleared as he snapped to you and your quiet voice.

“I… felt… provocative… the bad one… The one... t-that you think is… unnecessary…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“Then you saw me see you and you thought…” Mikey crossed his fingers while drawing lines. “Eugh… That’s bad.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You shouldn’t have to say that. I’m the one that’s sorry…”

You shook your head, eyes down. “L-like I said… It should be nice… I just can’t…”

“Accept.” He spoke. “Not how I feel about the swimsuit.” 

You gave another sharp nod as if it hurt you.

He wished he could take that away.

“Well…” Mikey sighed, the air feeling a little too heavy. “I mean that’s not… new. You already don’t accept me.”

“Mikey!”

“Right, right. You don’t accept my feelings! I gotta specify!” He chirped. 

You wound with dismay. 

“It’s true!” He rolled in his seat and it rocked with his weight. “Which is still fine, by the way! I feel the same and I think I unlocked a new piece even if I’m still not totally sure how it goes into the puzzle.”

You made an unsure sound.

“I’m just spitballing. You can have those without understanding ‘em. They’ll make sense eventually.” He eyed you hoping it didn’t apply much pressure. “Are we… still good?” 

“You… you still want to…?” You looked around for an out, but there was none among the wilds. You returned with what he liked to imagine was a wiggle of your nose. “... b-be friends with m-me… d-do this…?”

“Of course, silly.” He smiled easily. “There was never a doubt.”

He watched one layer of anxiety fall off of you only to reveal the next.

That was about your limit for these things. “You hungry?”

“W-we missed breakfast because of me…” You stuttered out. 

Mikey chuffed so hard he almost wished he had a noisemaker to go with it. “Doubt it. Don mighta made something in the meantime. Oh! Maybe he baked something! He’s really good at baking, but he whines too much. I can hear him now! ‘Mikey, the humidity of the trees is affecting my rise time!’ But don’t let that fool you! He’s got nothing on this chef! If we’re eating good; it’s gonna be cause of me!” He threw a triumphant thumb into his figure.

“O-oh…” You looked confused.

You needed time. “I’ll go… shower! Yeah!!” He grinned proud for his memory. “And you chill out here or in there or wherever. I’ll cook, you clean. You do the dishes! How’s that for mutual punishment? Win-win!”

“N-no breakfast pizza…” You looked relieved enough that he could tell you were making a joke.

Mikey threw himself to his feet and tilted a smarmy smile your way. “I don’t know! I think those old axe wielders would totally crush a forest with Mike’s supreme lumberjack breakfast bake ‘za! Think of the complex carbs that’ll fuel a working man’s hard day!!”

You giggled that bird song.

“Nah, I’m making pancakes and no axe murderer will stop me!” He lifted his foot as high as it would go before taking a step.

“W-when did t-they become-!?” You pivoted to track his movement.

“Who’s to say!?” He cheered and ran in time with the rapid pace of his heart.

Listening long after the door had clattered closed, you eventually sank back into your chair. The woods were a lovely backdrop no matter how you felt. At an odd peace even though it didn’t quite feel like everything had been dealt with, you watched a bird preen itself on a nearby tree. Twitching to check its surroundings between each flick of its head, it then ruffled its feathers for a job well done and flew off to some unseen task.

You figure it was probably food which is what finally got you up and headed back inside. You quickly found a sort of pandemonium where Donnie was stone-faced catching enormous flapjacks being tossed through the air. Some sort of ancient game, Mikey threw more and more as Donnie moved on near muscle memory to catch them. Creating a stack that was unnecessarily tall and probably crushing at least the bottom twelve discs to pulp, you waited by the door until Mikey spun with his still damp hair dancing tendrils around him.

“Perfect timing!” He shined all too bright with the only crack as a gap in his teeth.

You were soon stuffing yourself to the brim which should have led to comatose except Donnie demanded a nature hike. The product of some agreement between him and Mikey, you were left staring vacantly as the brothers prepared to go. Mikey mentioned this was related to more mutual punishment so you were excused, but he also appeared to have suffered the same overeating fate that you were. Moving on camaraderie alone, you hobbled together with Mikey as Donnie, who had eaten nearly as many pancakes as his brother, seemed completely unperturbed.

On the trail, Donnie spouted fact after fact and staunchly only called things by their scientific names. The food coma lent a period where you excused the stubborn act because you were only half listening, but as more steps aided in your digestion, it became annoying since you had no idea what he was talking about. His facts sounded interesting and you began to feel like you were missing out. When you checked in with Mikey to see how he was fairing, you found a similar irritated look on his face. You both then shared a wry smile before Mikey stood taller and began loudly commenting about purposefully incorrect flora and fauna to spite his brother.

“Polemonium vanbruntiae is a perennial herb that grows erect from a horizontal rhizome.”

“Dang, Y/N. Can you believe earth worms can grow straight up from the ground like that?” Mikey gleamed at you. 

“Oh, I’m hearing you want facts about Lumbricus terrestris! Very well!!” Donnie’s voice was getting bitterer by the second. 

The two bickered an affectionate back and forth. All clear jest, you couldn’t help but also notice the natural flow there. Mikey said something about a B-team reunion as tours guides and from context it seemed like the pair were considered the backup team to Leo and Raph. With Mikey’s mighty mysticism alone that seemed like an impossibility. You couldn’t picture your friend waiting in the wings and Mikey caught wind of your surprise. He explained they weren’t always the mystical warriors you saw today and you had a difficult time trying to picture what they were like when they were young. Mikey moved to sharing training mishap memories and you were left wondering what kind of power Donnie had.

Donnie without mystic magic was horrifying enough.

If someone told you he was the strongest, you might believe them. 

You still believed as much about Mikey. 

You were sure there were all sorts of dynamics between the brothers, but these two in particular had a special relationship. Trailing behind to observe some vines that Donnie had pointed out, it only further cemented your decision: Your supposed crush was nothing more than a ridiculous dream.

You were meant to stand on your own. Mikey was your guiding light from the sun. You didn’t betray that sort of help by trying to sneak away to have a tryst with the moon. The two had a familiarity that you could never threaten. Not that you considered yourself capable of such a thing in the first place. The moon didn’t feel anything special for you.

He only sought to right.

To illuminate injustice.

You fancied him as he was.

You respected that he was an ominous source of good. You would pocket all other feelings. The only emotion you would tend to was the one that cared for Donnie’s kindness. You would let that one blossom in your heart.

The good one.

It was one based on support that you hoped to repay. You could aid him and that was a pure feeling. That one wouldn’t get in the way.

Assistance.

You could do the same for Mikey.

A decision you were sure to agonize over later, in this moment, staring at a green vine, you saw tenacity. Donnie had said this otherwise spindly plant had the strength to clutch onto tree limbs throughout the harshest winters. It formed a symbiotic relationship with the tree once it matured.

That could be you.

You could flourish one day and then in turn help the brothers that helped you. Putting a hand to the trunk, you looked up the tree. They didn’t need your help as they’d long survived on their own, but you could support them in this tiny way. You could provide the little boost of nutrients that made things just a little bit easier. They were the heroes of New York and they deserved as much for all that they had endured.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You leaned in close to the bark, pressing your promise there.

The quiet of the forest took up space before Donnie’s voice softened. “Did you want to know more about Vitis aestivalis?”

“Sure. Which one was that?” You turned to him and kept a hand to the tree.

He seemed a bit bashful as he held up some greenery. “The leaves are thought to be hepatic.”

He’d been hoping to expand on his latest find. 

You wondered where Mikey had run off to now. 

“That’s some sort of cleanse, right?” You smiled attentively for Donnie in Mikey’s stead and for no other reason. 

“They can draw away soreness.” He nodded.

You hummed in interest and moved in close.

Mikey soon appeared on the horizon, triumphant, with a walking stick held high.

💛 NEXT 💛

I LOVE MY BETAS @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Three)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.7k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

N.F.I., Me and You

There was a college Christmas party tonight. You and Michael heard about it. No one told you, of course. You just overheard it from people who didn’t know you were listening. They didn’t invite you. That was a given. When you asked Michael if he was upset about not getting an invitation, he responded (oh-so maturely) by blowing raspberries. Not in your face, though. He’s not an animal.

You quickly learned that not being invited to a college party (of any kind, because you weren’t invited to any of them) had a bright side - the library was all for you. Completely vacant. Quiet and vacant. Your go-to spots are in the back, where shelves wall you in and gawkers can’t peer in through the windows and interrupt your flow. No one does that, but it can feel that way. There was no need to look over your shoulder here. There was no open space for a person to exist. Only books and just enough room to scoot out of your chair. The air smelled faintly of dust and old paper, a comforting scent that always made you feel at ease. The yellow lights in the ceiling cast a soft, steady hum, adding to the peaceful silence.

Most people who show up to the library treat the place like it’s social hour, gathering around tables to chat shit, drown in coffee (that they weren’t supposed to have inside), and not touch a single book. Which is another reason you choose this location every time; no one finds this area entertaining for long. You wouldn’t be surprised if only a few people knew about its existence.

And speaking of only a few people, Michael emerged between the bookshelves, peeking from the side like he was going to scare you.

Well, he did scare you. Startle is a better word for it. You jerked in your seat at the sight of him in your peripheral. The look of instant regret played on his face; wide eyes and a gaped mouth. He apologized with a frantic, “Sorry, sorry!”

You laughed in spite of it. “If you wanted to kill me, then just say it, Michael.”

He snickered at you. “I knew you’d be here. And I wanted to see you.”

Then you looked down at what he was holding. Not books, as expected.

Michael’s eyes darted from the table to you. “Here, I brought you something.” He set the mugs down (a decaf Americano for him, a white macchiato for you). The thud of ceramic against lacquered wood echoed in the quiet, similar to the thud of your heart against your ribs, only on repeat. The rich aroma of coffee wafted up, mingling with the scent of the old books, creating an oddly comforting blend.

You were stunned by it. Not just because of the gesture (it was such a sweet gesture), but because of the obvious. “Michael,” you said to him, “you know the rules.”

“I do.” He smirked, then took the seat across from you, adjusting his glasses.

“Then why’d you bring open drinks from the shop?”

“Because no one stopped me.”

“If we get caught, then we’ll get in trouble.” The anxiety alone of getting into trouble was enough to make your leg bounce. Yet you tried to swallow down the fear. Your throat was already so dry from the winter weather, and you could already feel a sweat percolating under your collar.

“No. They like you too much. Because you don’t do anything.”

That was true, at least. You didn’t know if they necessarily liked you, but for someone who doesn’t leave the dorms much, you’re at least recognizable considering that they smile when you visit.

Michael pushed your macchiato toward you, and you worried it would spill. You pondered, looking at the coffee, then back up to Michael as if he were making you choose between the red or blue pill. The macchiato beckoned you in anyway, so you lifted it to your lips like there was no turning back. It soothed your throat from the winter air. “Thank you.” You pulled a napkin from your blazer pocket to wipe the froth off your mouth. Michael didn’t pick up on how deep your breaths were (because he wasn’t looking at you. He was poking around in his satchel). It was difficult to capture a good amount of air to fill your lungs and rid them of the lingering anxiety. The sip of caffeine you just took was definitely not going to help, but at least it was delicious.

“Also, I wanted to give this back to you.” He held up a collection of Kate Chopin’s short stories. He extended his arm across the table for you to take it.

You did and quickly flipped through the book before putting it in your bag. He completed reading The Awakening a week after he began and was delayed in cracking open her short stories. “So, what did you think?”

“I see why you like ‘A Story of an Hour’ so much. Very much your style of humor.”

At least this time at the end, the woman dying had a funny layer to it; seeing her husband actually not dead from a reported accident made her “die of joy” when she, once again, was happy to not be married anymore.

He picked up his Americano. “I definitely see the pattern you’re talking about. With the marriage part. But it makes sense why it would be so consistent. Given the time and all.”

“Yeah.” You nodded as you said it. Despite your hesitation, you still reached out to take another drink. You could already feel the caffeine coursing. As you tried to steady your breath, you scanned your notes again. You could feel Michael’s eyes on you, and you were afraid he was noticing. “How’s Oliver?”

Michael sighed. “Dunno. I’ve seen him staring a lot at Felix Catton and his group of fucking losers. He’s been acting differently.”

“Really? You think they’re friends?”

“Michael shrugged, his arms still flat on the table. “Not sure. I’ve never seen them together. He still doesn’t talk much, so not the same on the charisma scale.”

Maybe he has a crush on him. Has he talked about him?” You asked slowly, as you swallowed.

“Not around me. He didn’t know about the party either.”

“Hm,” you simply said. Your fingers twitched as the energy reached the ends of your feet. You swore you heard footsteps somewhere between the shelves where Michael came in. You were almost convinced that someone would catch you, clenching your teeth as you prepared for inevitable embarrassment.

Michael leaned back in his chair, looking down the aisle. “No one’s there.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I think someone was just walking by. No big deal.”

“Okay.” Your exhale was slow before picking your pen back up. You lost track of where you were in your rewrites. People like Felix and Venitia Catton and their peers may be more popular, drunk, and social than you’ll ever be, but their grades matter by the end of the semester. At least one of them always needs notes for classes they didn’t attend, especially if they need to retake the class. They’re just as vain, so aesthetically pleasing notes will sell more. You searched through, trying to find where you left off. But your leg bounced once more, the small heel of your shoe growing obnoxious.

“Still nervous?”

You nodded as you searched, finding where you left off and trying to concentrate on your handwriting; being slow and methodical to keep it as neat as a font.

“You can dare to take risks now and then, you know. It’s not always going to turn out as bad as you think.” His tone was earnest as he leaned forward slightly.

But you gripped your pen to instinct, pausing as your stare turned hard, finding Michael in your crosshairs.

He rested his head on the table. His lips disappeared into his mouth briefly as he started to put together that he may have fucked up. “What?”

Okay, maybe not.

“You know it’s not that simple for me. You, of all people, should know that it’s not that simple, Michael.”

“Phobias are irrational. They feed on an extreme lack of logic.” He said it with a mix of defense in his argument. It was as if this was something up for debate.

“I understand how phobias work, Michael. Like you, I am a student at Oxford University. I may not be a genius like you, but I understand my phobia from years of my research and experience.”

Michael picked his head back up. Perhaps the growing heat from your anger started brushing against him. “I just…” his back hit the chair and his posture sank. “I’d rather not see you miss out on four years of Oxford University.”

“My time at Oxford University is for education. Just like yours.”

“You know what I mean.” He blinks as his glasses slide down his nose.

“Do I?”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward, reaching a hand out. He was literally trying to bridge the gap. Any other time, you would’ve taken it.

“You can’t control that.”

“But you can control cows?” The hand was gone, and his tone turned sharp as his words sliced through the library's quiet. “You deserve a break from the academic side of all this. Like everyone else.”

“You think the outside world is a break for me?”

“Well, not exactly but—”

You snapped your notebooks closed and stood to put on your overcoat. “I need to go.” You struggled to keep your voice steady, mapping out the typical path from the library to your dorm.

“Wait, don’t.” He reached out, but you gave him nothing.

You didn’t respond or even look at him. The Christmas party was likely still happening, given it was only seven in the evening. You hoped Michael wouldn’t get up. You hoped he’d let you leave. He knew you didn’t like feeling trapped, but he didn’t seem to know (or care) as much as you thought he did.

You were mindful as you walked between the shelves, conscious of the bookbag you held against your hip and making sure it didn’t knock any books to the floor. The trickle of tears lined your eyes and burned as you tried to hold them back. The library's warmth, once comforting, now felt suffocating, and you longed for the crisp air outside.

Taglist: @anukulee

[boymanmaletheshequel]

Symbolism of Hermes

🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴

The god of messangery, communication, travel, the patron of thieves and companion of Apollon, messenger of Zeus, Apollo is one of the youngest of the olympians, a tricky, cunning, but charming and friendly god who is friendly to man and god alike. Let’s go over some of his sacred symbolism:

🌈 colors:

• Blue and White: the colors of the sky, communication, and messengery, are blue and white, as a result, these colors are the ones most often associated with Hermes. The shade doesn’t matter too much, but light blue is generally preferred to darker blues.

🌸 plants and flowers:

• Crocus: now this one is kind of confusing because the god associated with it differs on the author, but it’s said that either Apollo or Hermes accidentally killed their companion crocus in a game of discus, and that when they mourned them, their tears sprouted crocuses from the ground around their body.

🦌 Animals:

• Tortoise/turtle: it is said that one of the very first shenanigans Hermes got up to after his birth and escape of his cradle, was to steal and fashion a lyre out of tortoiseshell! (RIP to the tortoise but ain’t that just the way). This was the first lyre, and the first of many inventions the god would be credited with!

• Hawk: (I’m trying VERY hard not to make an ironic hawk-tuah joke but I’m afraid he would abandon me if I did, rightfully so) hawks are one of the sacred animals associated with hermes, and it is said that when he would deliver messages from the gods, he would do so in the form of a hawk!

• Ram: another sacred animal to Hermes was the ram, as he was said to ride on the back of a ram to deliver messages to and from the gods on Olympus!

💎 crystals and gemstones:

• Blue Topaz: blue topaz is often seen as a stone that helps one to overcome social anxiety and to speak and converse agaisnt their anxieties, especially in public, or during important discourse. Making it a great stone to represent Hermes.

• Celestite: the stone of messengery, Hermes’s main forte, Celestite is also a stone of spiritual and practical communication, it is also widely available and more affordable than topaz for those who may want to devote or wear a crystal for Hermes!

• Blue lace agate: a beautiful blue member of the agate group, and a stone known for its wavy and transcendent veins, it is a stone of clerical communication, fortune, and good messages both spiritual and physical! One of my favorites to dedicate to Hermes.

🪐 Planets:

• The Romans were known to have identified Hermes with Mercury, a planet of fire and mahatma closest to the sun, which makes since as Apollo, the god of the sun, in Greek mythology was one of Hermes closest Allies. He was also associated with Charon, and helped reaped souls for the underworld, Mercury is a notoriously hellish planet. It also makes the most orbits around the sun than any other planet in a year, harking to Hermes association to travel.

🌟 Astrology:

• Gemini

Probably the most obvious correspondence here, Hermes is a very social, talkative, active god who thrives on his relationships to the gods and the people he acts as a vessel for, all qualities shared with Gemini.

🪽Other iconography:

• Lyre

The lyre was the very first invention of Hermes, and it was he who first introduced it to Apollo, having crafted it out of the guts of the livestock of apollos he’d slaughtered. Apollo was so stricken with joy and appreciation for his music and his invention, that he forgave Hermes for his trespasses, and would go on to teach him his own divine knowledge.

• Traveling hat

Hermes iconic traveling hat that he would wear as he heralded his messages to the gods and mortals alike is another common asset associated with his iconography.

• Sandals

His infamous winged sandals are perhaps the most unique and renowned symbols of Hermes, having granted him the ability to fly in order to deliver his heralds and messages to and from Olympus.

Like my posts? Please consider giving me a follow to learn more about the gods of Helen, and learn about other interesting topics as well! May your day be blessed 🏛️💙

🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴🪽🩴

[bibibbon]

I've already said that in my rewrite, I'm thinking about discarding Bakugou from my version and putting in a character inspired by his beta version. But I'm having doubts about this issue. How will I demonstrate the bullying that Izuku suffers at the beginning of the story? Or should I make the story start with the UA entrance exam arc?

Quirkless discrimination isn't particularly something that Canon material delves deeply into (me and many others speculate that it was avoided so as not to make bakugo look bad)

Now, discrimination, as we see in MHA, comes in many forms. From what we see in Canon, Izuku's primary aggressor was bakugo without a doubt, and due to you reverting bakugo to his first draft, this means that we won't see bakugo antagonising izuku.

However, izuku will realistically still suffer from discrimination, and this could be through:

Introducing a new character that basically ends up taking bakugos place as the bully

Showing microagressions that izuku experiences due to his quirklessness, whether that be people limiting their interactions, talking behind his back, or simply ignoring him. Ghosting him as if he doesn't exist.

Teachers could be depicted as passive-aggressive with izuku, whether that be with things like not taking him seriously or simply ignoring his presence.

I think a mixture of options 2 and 3 would make the most sense. Izuku lives in a large city in Canon meaning that the discrimation he would experience wouldn't be as physically violent or aggressive as if it was in the rural sides as we have seen hori view it.

Due to the increased diversity in the city and maybe better policing (could be argued or shown not to be better policing), Izuku's experiences would mainly be very detrimental social aspects of his life being significantly hindered in reality which would still heavily effect his character whether that be the obvious anxiety, decrease in self esteem, desire for belonging which drives him to heroics and more.

From what we do see in Canon, the world of MHA very much emphasies the idea of conformity and how its basically one's social death (which ultimately leads them to a mu h more horrible life) if they don't achieve it. We see this with characters like toga, shoji, yuuga, and izuku.

Mha has a huge emphasis on fitting in and being the status quo being like all Might and giving it your all for a society that probably despises you and constantly exploits you.

Ironic, don't you think? For a society where quirks are labelled as a form of "uniqueness" and "individuality." That same individuality or lack of is being policies, having a label stuck on it, determines the fates of innocent children who have yet to see the dirt that society has. Those who don't fit the status quo will break themselves trying to fit in. They will long for family and will die doing so. Some may succeed in putting on the mask, but how long will it last? Toga sure didn't, and neither did Yuuga's. How many more will suffer for everyone to look and see the other as a human?

I won't lie to you it will be hard to accurately present quirkless discrimination without it wildly going to human experiments and people treating you like dirt type of fanon.

It will also be hard to write quirkless discrimination from the little time izuku is in aldera Middle School. However, even if you choose to start your story at the UA entrance arc exams you also have to actively explore why izuku is the way he is which is due to quirkless disceimation and his childhood!!!

[latelylately]

i read le guin's essays on plagiarism and influence and content (https://www.ursulakleguin.com/bvc-art-information-theft-and-confusion-part-two and https://www.ursulakleguin.com/bvc-art-information-theft-and-confusion-part-one)

which were really good and i enjoy her dunking on JKR.

she didn't elaborate much after this sentence but she uses the word "play" as a way of describing what authors do when creating new works influenced by others and i think it is underrated and deserved like 5 more paragraphs. it kind of underpins the difference between copy-stealing-iteration and influence-inspiration-iteration.

if you know me you know i have complex and disagreeable pomo baby opinions on plagiarism. but i think le guin has matured my opinion on this because i agree with her distinction between art and "content" although in the moment the two may be hard to distinguish (or in a different light, one and the same).

i still struggle with this philosophically. i've always been made very nervous by the concept of plagiarism---ive spoken about this with another autistic friend of mine and we share this opinion. with a sample size of exactly 1.5 (questionable self diagnosis is a half point here) i feel like this might be a distaste for what i see as a nebulous and ever-changing social concept, and that is why I find it disagreeable and anxiety-inducing.

before i continue: clearly, it is morally wrong to steal. copying entire passages of work and passing it as your own for profit and at the detriment of another author is something I'm not going to philosophize about because its obvious enough it's unethical.

what I struggle with philosophically is the line between where collection and curation ends, and art begins. Is a vibes blog original work? Kind of, but most people would say not. Is a moodboard? Closer to original work, sure. What about collage? Or whatever shit Duchamp and Andy Warhol were on? Those things are accepted as art because we say they're art, and that's how art is defined. And where's the line between a moodboard and a collage? It is a socially enforced age/reputation/gender-based line where a 16 year old girl making a fit check meme with stock images for a tiktok is not art but a 40 year old accomplished artist making a collage from found photos is? I don't know!

I also think the fact that we see "internet content" as an endless reservoir from which to draw from (or at least people who scraped that data to train generative AI) speaks to the lack of ownership that is inherent to anything you make. Part of art making is sharing, and once you share something, you can't own it anymore. No matter how much you try---watermark your art, ask people not to repost it, ask people not to kin your OC's or whatever---people will use and take the thing you've made with no regard for you, the person who made it, because it spoke to them and now it's theirs. Regardless of the ethics of this, I think it's an indisputable fact that the internet has shone a light on how we can sometimes operate like magpies. So what does that say about ownership and art?

Most likely I only have this opinion because I've never been the victim of large-scale impersonation and art theft. But then again, that's not really what I'm talking about. I'm talking about how once your art gets into public domain, it's public.

I have a lot more to say about the concept of "information" and also the ethics of generative AI but my thoughts are half-formed shitty little turds so I'll stop