#suicide doesn't discriminate

[megaderping]

I feel like when people emphasize Akechi's murders, they often act like his motivation only boils down to "daddy issues" or they really make light of the impacts societal discrimination can have on a person. "But Futaba didn't end up like Akechi," I've seen people say, but the thing is, Akechi is meant to show the worst case scenario. Someone without anyone left to uplift him, to ground him, and to give him a reason to be better. Futaba had Sojiro, though that hardly justifies her mother's death, nor the horrible mistreatment from her relatives or what Shido put her through by framing Wakaba's death as a suicide. Futaba was in a very dark place, and she needed a helping hand. The Phantom Thieves saved her. But Akechi didn't have that helping hand when he needed it most. He lost his mother at a very young age, endured the foster system, never finding a new forever home, and at his absolute lowest point, was granted power he didn't understand with no one to guide him, and wanted to get close to Shido to one day backstab him and give him a taste of his own medicine. The murders came later, when Shido "instructed him." And given the way Shido yells at Akechi about what happens to people who cross him, and given what he did to Futaba (the men in suits), his cleaner, and how many people he had on his side, on top of Sojiro making it very clear how cutthroat Shido was to his enemies... Akechi was screwed no matter what. His face, his name, all of it could be used to ruin him in the real world. Alone, he would not have been enough to go through Shido's Palace, given how much trouble the Phantom Thieves had as a group. Plus, y'know, this:

Something so many people ignore when they talk about Akechi and his murders and ignore everything else the narrative tries to say about him.

What P5 tries to say about Akechi is so important to its core themes. That, if Akechi hadn't been a victim of so much injustice, he might have never gone to such lengths. That doesn't undo the damage he's done, but it's so important to understanding why the game approaches him with sympathy rather than writing him off as pure evil. Because it didn't have to be this way. If he had just met Joker sooner, if he had just had somebody. Akechi represents what can happen to vulnerable children who are failed by systems meant to uphold justice and other ideals, and how those who have nothing, who have only ever been hurt, are far more likely to lash out in turn. Persona 5 places so much importance on the suffering of children and the ways society needs to improve for the sake of children. That, I think, is one of the key reasons Akechi is framed as a victim. He is a warning, a cry to do better.

[awakefor48hours]

When it comes to people who are racist, sexist, transphobic, or queerphobic, this is what they want. They either want marginalized people to not exist to begin with, kill themselves, or at the very least not their sight. It's why a lot of them say "go back to your own country!" or say to keep your kinks to yourself when talking about the LGBT community. If these people can't kill you or stop you from existing, they at the very least don't want to see you.

I know there's definitely times when moving is a necessity but moving is a last resort. Moving is when literally nothing will solve or remedy the problem.

I hate to say this (but also not really) but telling someone to "just move" if they're complaining about the racism, sexism, transphobia, and/or queerphobia in their area, you're getting dangerously close to how racists, sexists, transphobes, and queerphobes think.

[platinumshawnn]

Bound by Blood and Fire | Benjicot Blackwood x OC!Tully — pt iv

masterlist | playlist | backwards | forward

A/N: wow, another update four days later and ahead of schedule for once!! this chapter has been half-written and in drafts, waiting to be finished a whole month. sorry if it has some errors, i did my best to proofread and edit. i wrote most of this to someone to stay -- vancouver sleep clinic if that doesn't explain the soft moments this chapter gives, i needed the soft moments for my own selfish reasons pls enjoy <33

Synopsis: Amidst growing turmoil, Elmo Tully works to forge alliances with old rivals. As wedding planning forges ahead, storm clouds gather over Raventree Hall. Guests arrive for the betrothal feast, while Serra and Benjicot struggle to find common ground to ensure their marriage's success. Benjicot's olive branch to Serra offers some hope, despite her doubts. The families celebrate amid rising tensions and news from King’s Landing. Lord Samwell hears of the Brackens coming close to their borders and finally cracks underneath the pressure of his council.

Content Warning(s): MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism and gender based harassment/discrimination, sexual content, mild depictions of family based violence, implied suicide ideation.

Word count: 7.1k

“How did it go?” 

Kermit had met Oscar at the doors upon his return from travel the past five and a half days — he couldn’t even hide his disgust at the sight and smell of his younger brother whose return was whispered to him as he had been sifting through the contents of the library that morning. He had made sure to be notified as soon as he’d stepped foot within the gates of Raventree once word had reached him that Oscar was expected to arrive that afternoon. 

It had been a long several days since the feast, and in the aftermath of the meeting between some of the Lords of the Riverlands, Oscar had been sent on horseback with a fleet of men from House Tully to the Arryn’s — a long journey that he did not outwardly protest against, but Kermit had seen the twitch of his eye as he gave his father a nod that was curt and far too formal for their usual dynamic; the war had shifted something in the air between the father and his sons in recent days. But the journey was one of necessity, sent as a messenger to House Arryn in the Eyrie -- one that would have been quicker if not for several storms that forced them to shelter for the night, issued with the task of reminding the Lady Jeyne of her vow to Rhaenyra and of their houses’ long-standing alliance and support of one another. A task that seemed easy enough, now days later and two less horses after having hit a snag and walking into a trap that had been rigged on the forest paths. Kermit had been there when the raven flew in with updates from their journey, notifying Elmo of the accident, which had involved his brother. Oscar was safe and otherwise unharmed aside from his pride and sore. 

Oscar, with his dirt stained face, smelling of fields and horse shit, yanked off his riding gloves as he shoved past his brother; his left cheek scuffed with a scab from a fall off his horse amidst their return after a last minute detour towards House Baratheon -- a decision his brother had made in his emboldened enthusiasm.

“What did they say?” Kermit asked again, earning a huff from his brother who continued his brisk walk towards the great hall where their father waited among the councilmen. 

“That’s a promising answer,” Kermit sarcastically said, striding alongside his brother and trying to keep up with his pace as he mimicked his huff, “I take it you replied with a sort of…” he continued, giving his brother an animalistic like grunt from behind him. 

Oscar abruptly stopped outside the doors and whipped around, scowling as his brother collided with his shoulder and awkwardly stumbled to keep from falling into him, “Do you know when to shut up? Have some patience, brother.” He muttered, shoving his brother back a couple of steps and re-establishing the small bit of space between them as he turned, his brother letting out a snort.  

He shoved the doors open, Elmo sat at the head of the table and deep in conversation with Lord Rivers who had yet to return home as the feast celebrating the union of his sister and Benjicot neared, the final details being cemented for that night, much to their reluctance -- Kermit and Oscar both heeded warning at the thought of last feast’s events, but their father insisted at least on something smaller and more intimate than dozens of random elderly Lords and their snobbish sons. The invite had only been extended to select few entrusted vassals of House Tully, Elmo reassured.  

He stopped at the opposite end of the table as he entered with Kermit in tow, his father’s gaze watching him with a look of expectancy, awaiting his words as his head bowed out of respect. Lord Rivers withdrew to his seat as Oscar glanced towards him, waiting until there was silence among the table of men, his gloves clutched in his right hand at his sides, “I have news from my journeys to House Arryn and House Baratheon.” He announced. 

The last of the mutters ceased, pausing as he moved to shift his stance, suddenly panged by a wave of anxiety towards the eyes that watched him from around the room. Oscar was never an insecure, timid boy -- he was confident, well-spoken and self-assured, and had never shied away from attention. But with his age, in comparison to the much more experienced men around him, oozing wisdom that countered his own youthful inexperience, he was painfully aware that he was just a boy in their eyes; stood there in armor, like a child playing ‘knight’. He knew that they did not view him as equal to his father -- not like he expected them to. 

“Proceed, son.” Elmo stated, his voice warm and encouraging. 

Oscar again nodded slowly and took a breath before he spoke, “House Arryn has once again pledged their support in favor of Rhaenyra Targaryen as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne and has pledged to support our military efforts as much as they can afford.” He spoke, his tone more confident than it had been when he arrived. 

“And that of House Baratheon?” His father asked. 

“They have declared for the usurper, Aegon.” He replied, his eyes scanning the men around the table who broke into a series of mutters. “They plan to support him and his army should the time come.” Oscar explained. “Craven cunts.” Kermit muttered from behind him, reminding Oscar that he stood only a foot away from him as they spoke. 

Elmo’s eyes darted to his brother, in response to his words, his frustration evident in his face as his brows furrowed. 

“It does not come as a surprise to me.” Samwell said, speaking up finally. “I recall their Lordship expressing his…reservations about a woman sitting on the throne when she was first declared apparent heir. I was just hoping he would come to see reason.” He said, letting out a small sigh and looking to Elmo, who gave a small nod. 

“We can only do so much to guide others to see better judgment. I’ve received ravens from House Manderly and House Celtigar who have declared for Rhaenyra at least.” Lord Tully stated, his fingers drumming against the table as he seemed to linger on the update. While not the outcome they had hoped for, Oscar had done his duty successfully in all other words. “You’ve done a good job, Oscar.” 

Oscar nodded again, his head lifting to where his father stared at him, the two men in silence. A moment passed before Elmo leaned forward in his seat, placing his elbows atop the table and glancing towards an empty chair on his right as a sort of hint to his son. “Well?” He asked. “Do you plan to sit and join us?” 

Oscar turned his head and glanced at Kermit who looked back at him, the brothers sharing a look, his mouth opening to stutter out a sentence, “I…I was hoping to change first, make myself presentable.” He softly explained to his father. 

His hand waved dismissively to the idea, “Nonsense. There’s no more pride than that of a knight in the raw.” 

He visibly hesitated, letting out a small grunt under his breath that only Kermit could hear, a choked sound that came from his throat as though he wanted to refuse and insist on at least changing out of his riding gear; the little armor he wore streaked with mud and his own blood from the gash on his cheek. There was a sound of leather squeaking as he clenched his gloves with a white knuckle grip, before he let out a breath from his nose and walked forward, his head down as he moved to take his place at his father’s side. 

“And what of me, father?” Kermit asked, his brother’s chair dragging across the ground as he sat down.  

There was a glimmer of pride in his father’s eye as he watched Oscar scoot his chair forward, making himself as comfortable as he could, though Kermit could compare him to a wooden plank; stiff as he adjusted his cloak underneath him. His father turned to look at him after flashing a smile to his brother, chin lifting as he spoke, “Oh, check on your sister, will you? I haven’t seen her yet today.” 

Kermit gave a small nod, visibly disappointed at the request. 

 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She found the castle had been quiet in the days that followed the feast -- much quieter than she was used to. In the aftermath, her father and Kermit were much gentler than normal with her, careful as though they feared she would jump and run if they spoke too loudly. She felt like a child they were coddling and the whole situation was humiliating, feeling as though she was six years old again, clinging to her mother and crying because some boy was mean to her. 

In some ways, she was grateful for it however. 

They gave her more space than they had before and didn’t interrupt her as often; instead, they hung back from a distance and occasionally walked by her rooms, to glance in and make sure she was okay but would leave without saying anything. On the odd occasion she caught them staring, they would offer small smiles and nod, before carrying on. It gave her an opportunity to breathe, ground herself and reel from the events of the feast -- she could almost pretend that it hadn’t even happened and convince herself, this was not her life and was just some nightmare. 

Once she had moved past the feast and its chaos, she was faced with a new challenge. 

She watched from the treeline as Benjicot trained, too engrossed in his spar with his cousin to pay her any mind as she kept her distance; Alistair posted a few paces behind her. Her hands remained preoccupied by the small purple flowers in her hands -- violets that she had managed to find at the edges of the property, plucking them with a childish excitement. She had turned from her knelt position on the ground, summoning Alistair forward and insisting he hold them as she picked whatever his hands could hold. There had been a hint of apprehension, hesitating as he eyed her, before nodding and accepting the flowers, holding them in his left hand as she resumed her task of collecting them and rambled on about the knowledge she’d obtained over the years; familiar with herbs and plants and their medicinal use -- she had rambled on about a tea she could make with them when they returned. In the aftermath of the feast that had turned out disastrously, she found she actually enjoyed Alistair’s company and found comfort in his presence. He listened and was polite when he responded, and in the few words he offered, he provided her with wisdom. 

“Should we return to the library, my lady?” Alistair asked. She hummed inquisitively in response, eyes still transfixed on the boy Lord she was still working to figure out. “I can summon one of the kitchen workers to fix that tea for you.” He offered. 

She turned to look at him, offering a soft smile, “No, no. It’s quite alright, I can do it later. I’d like to stay out here a little while longer.” Serra replied, her gaze turning to look again towards the two young Blackwood men. “I…have something I have to do, actually.” 

“Might I be able to help somehow?” He offered. 

She shook her head, but paused, “Could you actually take these inside? I’d like to invite Lord Blackwood for a walk and then I will be in.” She explained, turning to him and once again scooping half of the flowers into his hands, her gaze down and avoiding his eyes. There was a moment of silence that passed between them before he spoke again. 

“Would you like me to summon him for you?” Alistair pressed again, her eyes finally coming up to make out the skepticism in his features, a look of concern in his eyes. 

She smiled again, “No, I…feel this is something I should do.” She replied, voice soft as she withdrew, keeping a few of the flowers for herself. 

Even through her reassurance, she could still see his concern, reluctant to nod and leave her to the task. Though he gave her a nod and passed her, walking towards the house and leaving her in the spot near the trees some feet away from where Benjicot’s cousin let out a yelp as he fell back into the dirt with a thud. Emrys was quicker to shoot up, rolling onto his side and reaching for his sword that had slipped from his hand in the tumble, just as Benjicot kicked it further from his grasp. She slowly approached, the small flowers in her hands as she stroked the petals between her thumb and forefinger, Emrys’ gaze finding her first as she neared the edge of the circle. 

Emrys looked relieved as he panted out a soft greeting and began to scramble to his feet, “My lady.” 

Benjicot turned towards where his cousin’s attention was placed, finding his betrothed standing before him and offering the smallest of smiles. The two men issued a bow, breathing heavily and flushed in the face as the heir wiped sweat from his bow, “Lady Tully.” He greeted, mouth ajar. 

“My apologies for interrupting.” She softly said, glancing between the two men. She paused, her gaze dropping briefly to the flowers in her hands, looking then to Emrys, “Hopefully he’s not been too hard on you today.” She remarked, her tone hinting a stiff attempt at teasing the Blackwood cousin. 

Emrys barked a laugh, brushing dirt from his doublet, “Hardly. I’m starting to think he’s deliberately trying to maim me.” He commented, shooting a look to his cousin who let out a quiet snort, the closest thing to a laugh that Serra had witnessed yet since her arrival. “In the event I die, he would no longer have any more competition in vying for your eye then, isn’t that right?” He flirted, smug as he leaned to shove Ben with his shoulder. 

The action hardly caused Benjicot’s feet to move beyond his right foot dragging against the dirt in a half-stumble, the two boys jokingly shoving each other and wrestling for a moment. Serra watched as Benjicot quickly slung an arm around his cousin’s neck in the scuffle, laughter ensuing as he muttered something incoherent at him that resembled a warning of ‘watch it’. “Okay, okay-- easy!” Emrys cried out, laughing and shoving him away. 

They settled down, straightening themselves out before they both looked at Serra once again, the smile she wore both shy and hinting her amusement at their antics, finding the interaction rather endearing. “I also mean to bring gifts for you both.” She said, finally stepping into the circle and approaching them. She witnessed the look the two men shared, Emrys’ interest piqued and smiling at her as she walked first to him and offered the small purple flower to him, bowing to her as he gently accepted the flower; bringing it towards his chest. 

“Thank you, Lady Tully.”

She sweetly smiled at him, before her gaze reluctantly found Benjicot’s as he watched the interaction before him, though his expression was one that she found unreadable, his lips parted and eyebrows raised. She hesitated, slow in stepping towards him and offering the last flower to him, placed in her palm and waiting for him. 

Benjicot glanced up at her face from the flower. He had never really understood women’s fixation with flowers, even as a boy, as pretty as they were -- he never viewed them as anything more than decorative things that adorned banners, armor and were a nuisance in the yards of Raventree. They were hardly a gift, but he moved to place his sword underneath his arm, pinned against his side and holding it as he reached out to carefully pluck the flower from her palm with his fingers, forcing a tight smile while holding it up briefly, “Thank you.” 

He watched as she offered a sweet, giddy smile and stepped back, her face lit up with joy as he accepted the flower, “You’re welcome.” Her hands clasped together in front of her, her eyes darting to Emrys who hardly made an attempt at concealing the wolfish grin he gave his older cousin at the sight. She looked back up at Benjicot, his own gaze lingering on his cousin and shooting him a glare of warning, “I understand you are probably busy, but I was wondering if you would care to take a walk around the grounds? Whenever you’re done here, of course.” She hurriedly spoke, her own look shooting to his cousin as if to ask if it was okay, not wanting to intrude more than she already did. 

“I think that would be lovely.” Emrys quickly replied. “We were actually just wrapping up.” 

Benjicot wanted to turn and slap him by the back of his head in that moment, eyes fixing on him again as if to question what the fuck he was doing-- 

“Are you sure?” She asked. 

However, he suppressed the urge to argue and deny her hopeful stare, sighing softly, “Of course. Let me just bring my sword back inside and we can go.” Benjicot grumbled, his annoyance boiling under the surface of his words. 

Her mouth opened to respond, but she was cut short before she could even utter a word as he turned on his heel and stalked away from her. She blinked, shrinking back once again as Emrys watched her deflate, watching after his cousin, “So moody-- I promise he isn’t always like this.” Emrys whispered, trying to make light of the situation, reaching out to touch her shoulder, “I’m sorry.” He quickly said, running after him. 

Her eyes met Kemit’s from the doorway as she watched Emrys run inside, his expression stoic and plain as she forced a polite smile before he turned and walked in the opposite direction as the two men before him. 

     · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

She could still sense his anger when he returned to the yard. 

The pair were silent as they walked, her watchful gaze fixed on observing the outer parts of Raventree — tall, sturdy, and appearing just as powerful as its men. Although her feelings towards the man to her right were that of indifference, she struggled to comprehend or make sense of his own attitude towards her, as she had hardly ever done anything to him aside from existing in his presence and that, even as children, had enraged him to such a point that at times she could not deny Benjicot was nothing less than what his houses’ reputation stood for. He embodied that very idea. Loyal but brutes. He did not seem to outgrow that as adults as even now, he didn’t seem to care for her and just seemed to search for any opportunity to humiliate her. Unlike when they were children, it came in forms of snide remarks and innuendos dismissing her as nothing more than some…object to one day warm his bed, or a nuisance — if not, even worse, it felt as though he treated like some sworn enemy to the likeness of a Bracken at times. 

Even though his father could sometimes scare him back into line, it only came in brief moments before he seemed to fall back into his habits. And his father couldn’t follow them and play mediator at all hours of the day. How did they plan to enter a marriage and live under those conditions? In which he despised her and she was nothing more than some doll to take his anger out on? To one day show her some warmth, only to come back with rage and lashing out at her. 

She almost preferred his childhood antics and would have rather he’d shove her into mud and call it a day. The thought of a lifetime spent living this way felt unbearable, the realization weighing heavy on her chest, almost as though she was being both physically and figuratively crushed by the very idea as her gaze anxiously darted to the side of his face from the corner of her eye; taking in the sight of him, so nonchalant and blissfully unaware. Unfazed. Her eyes darted back straight ahead as her clasped hands released themselves, smoothing over the fabric of her dress to wipe the sweat from her fingers, hands shaking slightly as she then clenched them, her breathing deep and heavy with each sharp inhale and exhale of air; even her breath shuddered as she attempted to ground herself, trying to force air into her lungs which felt as though they, too, were being crushed— 

“You’re breathing quite loudly.” Benjicot suddenly said, having been unaware that she had managed to walk ahead of him by a few paces while in thought, her hands once again going to smooth over her bodice as she abruptly stopped. 

She was quiet in response to his statement, too frightened to turn and face him immediately, like a scared child who was fearful of getting in trouble for something they had done — scared that if she showed even the slightest hint of weakness, he would pounce like a predator does their prey. But there was no hiding the fear in her eyes as she slowly turned towards him, one hand at her stomach and gripping the fabric there as if it would somehow steady her shaking hand and hide it in plain sight from him, her eyes meeting his. Though she could only bear to hold his stare for a moment before it dropped to the chest of his doublet, sucking in a deep breath, Benjicot’s eyes narrowing with a furrow of his brows. 

“What…” he began to say, pausing and taking a step toward her, “pray tell, is the matter with you now?” He sighed as he spoke, shoulders slumping with the words and a roll of eyes. 

If she had had even the smallest bit of boldness that existed within her and coursed through her veins, his words could have enraged her — his tone, speaking to her like she was an unfortunate bastard child that burdened him by simply existing, maybe then she would have had just enough courage in her so that she might have been brave enough to shout, yell, even swing a punch at him— but she couldn’t. If she had been born a man, she may have been lucky to possess such bravery. Instead, she was frozen in place, swallowing and instead looking up towards a window of the castle that overlooked them to avoid his eyes as she felt him continue to stare at her. She realized in that very moment, realizing how trapped she truly was, that she would have rather jump from the very window she was standing underneath than be married and stuck with Benjicot the rest of her life. She heard him sigh again, though the sound felt muffled and distant — not like he was standing only half a foot away from her, the sound of her heartbeat pounding so loudly she could barely hear over it.   

“My Lady?” 

She subconsciously had stepped towards the house, her breathing still rapid as she closed her eyes, a cool breeze flowing through the court that blew a few loose strands of hair into her face and across her cheeks. She was snapped, however, from her daze by the feeling of his hand closing around her elbow, eyes shooting open and immediately moving to withdraw from his hold as she leaned away; shrinking back with her mouth open to protest, his eyes on her face — for the first time since her arrival, though, she couldn’t find any trace of disgust in his features as he scanned her appearance. His grip tightened as she tried to withdraw again, tugging against his hand but to no avail. 

“Easy— just… just wait.” He commanded, his eyes darting over his shoulder as though he was looking for someone or something and scanning their surroundings before he quickly looked back at her. His other hand mirrored his right, grabbing her other arm just above her elbow and holding her in place as the sinking feeling of panic set in, her eyes widening and gasping for air as she used her entire weight to try and force herself backwards and out of his hold. Even with all her strength, she was unsuccessful beyond more than a stumbled step forward, only bringing him closer, bringing them chest to chest, “Serra, please— stop.” 

“What are you doing?” She suddenly cried out, voice small as her arms attempted to flail free from his restraint. She looked up at him, a look she couldn’t quite place flashing across his features — hurt, disgust? She gasped inwards, leaning back. 

He suddenly released an arm, stepping back from her and scanning her face, the furrow in his brow remaining, “Do you really think I’d deliberately seek to hurt a woman?” He asked, voice quiet but not hiding his offense, though he knew it was hypocritical. He wasn’t always kind, he was aware of that. 

He hardly allowed her a moment to process his words before his hand around her second elbow loosened and he blinked rapidly a couple of times with a glance towards his feet. He looked up a moment later, his hand dropping and cautiously taking hers, the move slow as his hand covered hers and watching her face as though he was searching for any sign to stop; any further protest — her own eyes still watched in complete and utter fear, confusion on her face, “Just…trust me for a moment. Watch.” He pleaded, voice quiet and desperate as his gaze dropped briefly to her chest, still heaving with the breathless pants that left her mouth before returning to her face. 

His hand was gentle over hers as it lead hers from her side; unfolding her fist and spreading her fingers as it was outstretched towards him, only feeling a small bit of resistance as her hand was guided inwards towards his body — he caught her eyes, that looked between her hand and his face, “Easy...” He repeated, his voice softer than before. Her body was still rigid and her skepticism still evident, but even Benjicot could not blame her for being so unwilling to trust him. What reason had he given her to do so thus far? He’d been nothing short of cruel to her in their childhood and had been so selfishly engrossed in his own fury that he hadn’t even pieced it together that she was as equally innocent in this scenario as he was. It seemed to dawn on him, looking at her face, the pieces falling into place. 

He pressed her hand to his chest, the heat of her fingers felt through his clothing as he pressed it flat, her palm pressed against his sternum over his heart; the steady thrum of his heartbeat felt underneath the layers with his chest rising and falling with steady, regular breaths, “do you feel that?” He quietly asked, her gaze still flipping between her hand and his own eyes before settling there, watching him. “Feel my heart? My breath?” He asked. 

He didn’t expect much of an answer, but her gaze dropped to her hand which seemed to relax under his, which was enough of a reply, “Just feel…breathe.” He quietly instructed. “Follow my breathing, in…out...in…” he guided, giving her a few moments and watching as the tension seemed to slide from her shoulders like a piece of clothing. 

The image of her fear-stricken face was still burned into his mind as he watched her relax — the memory invoking a flurry of guilt and shame to wash over him. He knew he could be cruel at times, but he’d never intended to be the source for her terror; hells, he’d never even realized just how much his actions had affected her. Looking at her in that moment, he’d come to remember she was just as much a pawn to the games of politics as he’d been — if not, more innocent than anyone. She hadn’t wanted this anymore than he had but she didn’t have any choice in the matter, just as he hadn’t. But he was prideful and had to swallow down the urge to say anything more about it, standing there silently as his gaze scanned her face. 

He pitied her, truly pitied her. 

“Your heart is beating faster.” She quietly pointed out, her eyes looking upwards from where her hand was placed, Benjicot having not even realized he was still staring at her as he’d pondered his anger these past days. A sudden rush of heat flooded his cheeks. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something -- the urge to spit out some sarcastic quip readily on his lips, but his words were halted by the sound of Ser Eryn’s voice as he approached them. 

“My lord.” 

Benjicot stepped back immediately, almost jumping and dropping his hand from her wrist as she simultaneously withdrew her hand from his chest; both their heads whipping towards the guard, “I apologize for my intrusion…but your father has summoned you.” Ser Eryn explained, his gaze fixed explicitly on the young man. 

Benjicot found his voice finally, nodding as he swallowed, looking down at the ground beneath his feet and then glancing towards Serra, her hands at her sides as she briefly returned his glance -- they both then looked back at Ser Eryn, “Very well. Thank you.” He simply replied. 

The guard nodded, turning with a clank of his armor before striding away, but not before he shot a last look in the direction of the young woman who was still standing timidly a few inches shy of the heir, wordlessly. Benjicot waited until he was out of earshot before he looked back at her, his hands going to clasp behind his back, “We should make our way back now, my lady. Shall we?” He spoke, his voice regaining its prior confidence, head tilting to gesture her along -- she nodded, a meek gesture in reply as she tentatively took a few steps to come back up to his side as he then began to lead them back down the path that circled the estate. 

The walk back was just as quiet as the one there, both keeping their eyes straight ahead. Serra wasn’t sure she had accomplished what she had set out to do when they first left — not sure she felt she understood him better or felt they had bridged their feud; she wasn’t even sure she could say she knew him better. But she was at least reminded that he was still human, under the brutish behavior, that he did possess the ability to be gentle and kind, if that’s even what she could call it. Occasionally, her gaze would wander towards him and even though he seemed set on avoiding catching her eye again, she still took the brief opportunity to observe him as she tried to figure him out again for the hundredth time that week. She noted the lines at the corners of his eyes that crinkled when he scowled and she could assume they were prominent when he smiled, too. From this angle, as the sinking sun caught his eye, she could make out that his eyes were almost green — maybe even hazel? Regardless, in this lighting he did not appear as intimidating or even menacing as she had previously thought him to be. Nothing more than a boy, she realized. 

The main doors were opened by guards as they approached, creaking open so loudly the sound echoed throughout the halls; Benjicot walking ahead of her and letting out a puff of air as he began to approach the familiar doors where the council and his father were awaiting him, though he paused. He visibly hesitated in turning to her, the same pensive look on her face as they stared at one another a moment before he took a step toward her, “I apologize for having to cut our meeting short. I will see you at supper, yes?” He questioned, reaching out to grab her hand and bringing it to his mouth to press a kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes briefly dropped to his mouth, noting the scar above his lip before returning to his eyes and nodding. 

“Yes, of course.” 

Benjicot straightened up and nodded, letting her hand go in order to turn and make his way into the hall where Serra briefly caught a glimpse of her father sitting at the table, along with Samwell and other council members as the doors opened. Though a silence settled over them as Benjicot entered and sat down, her father and Samwell both casting looks in her direction as their quiet discussion ceased at the doors being held open. It was then that her attention was drawn to the sound of her elder brother coming down the stairs quite quickly, one hand at his sword just as she and Benjicot parted; his gaze following his friend before looking at her. Kermit appeared to slow as he approached the bottom two stairs, pausing and sharing a silent exchange with his sister, his shoulders visibly relaxing. 

“Sister.” He suddenly said, breaking the silence and nodding at her before rushing into the room behind the young Blackwood who had entered moments earlier. The doors were closed behind him, leaving her standing in the hall, more at ease than she had been the past several days. 

    · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A soft knock echoed through the room as Benjicot stood in front of the window, straightening the neck of his cloak, shoulders rolling as he assumed it was a reminder to hurry from one of the guards, “Come.” He called out, growing frustrated as the fabric would not sit right against his throat no matter how much fidgeting with it that he did. He felt as though he was being choked and deprived of air as he sucked in a sharp breath. 

He heard as the door opened and footsteps shuffled against the ground, entering the room and closing the door, “I will be down shortly.” He replied, giving the clothing one last tug and beginning to fix his sleeves, however his companion was silent. He turned, sensing that it wasn’t a guard afterall, and finding Kermit stood behind him with a look of contemplation, his eyes moving to scan his appearance. His eyebrows furrowed. They quietly stared at each other for a moment that left Benjicot almost uncomfortable. 

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Benjicot asked suddenly. 

Kermit forced a smile, “You always do, don’t worry.” He said, the attempt at a playful tone painfully forced and not unnoticed by Ben. His gaze dropped again, fixed on the Blackwood sigil across his chest, mouth opening to speak again, “I don’t want to be the overbearing brother who nags you with the same warnings your father already has, I know there is only so much I can say that has not already been said a hundred times...” He said, his voice soft and looking up to his eyes again. 

Benjicot did not attempt to interrupt him with a reply, settling on listening intently. 

“She’s a kind girl.” Kermit stated, matter of factly and more confident as he stood upright. “Kinder than most. She feels so much, so deeply, and she cares too much for her own good sometimes. But she is good…more so than anyone I have ever met. She possesses both intellect and wit, and despite the chaos of the men around her-- she remains such a gentle, good-hearted spirit who keeps us grounded. She is terrible with a needle and thread, but she knows how to soothe and mend the worst of wounds-- I used to go right to her whenever you kicked my ass when we would train as boys. And I know one day she will be equally as kind a mother as she will be a wife, just as our mother was.” He continued to speak, stepping closer to his friend who held his gaze. 

“I’d like to think we’ve always been good friends,” He said. “I even consider us to have become like brothers.” Benjicot’s expression softened, his shoulders relaxing, “I do too.” 

“Then please treat her with kindness.” He pleaded suddenly, stepping forward one last step until he was mere inches from him. “Treat her with decency and be good to her. I have never trusted anybody else with her as I do you. I know you are a good and generous man, Benjicot, and I know somewhere inside you, you still possess the kindness and warmth my sister needs. I ask…” He spoke, pausing to catch his breath. 

He reached out to place a hand on Benjicot’s shoulder, “I ask that you be a better man than your father was to you. Because otherwise she will not survive this marriage if you cannot, and I cannot bear to imagine a life without her, knowing I was the cause for my own sister’s demise. She does not deserve that.” He explained, his voice thick with emotion as Ben watched his friend nod as if to silently ask that he understood after a moment. 

He reluctantly nodded after a few seconds that felt like hours. 

They did not part immediately, staring at each other in the silent space of Ben’s chambers, the weight of his pleas lingering over them. Kermit gave a final nod whilst clapping his friend’s shoulder and sniffling once before he stepped back and folded his hands behind him, “I’ll leave you to finish getting ready, then.” He quietly said. 

Kermit was slow in retreating from the room, leaving him to his thoughts, his words heavy on his chest like the boot of his opponent in battle; the ache there deep and raw as his hand instinctively rose to massage his chest over his heart with his knuckles, as if to rub away the anxiety their conversation left him. He turned on his heel and faced the desk that was shoved against the wall, stacked with books — and there, among all the strewn papers and ink stains, sat a small purple flower against the brown leather of a history textbook he had skimmed through days prior. 

He reached out for it with the hand that had touched his chest, careful in picking up the delicate violet that had been plucked from the yards of Raventree and eyeing it under the little light that the sun cast in through his window. 

“Because otherwise she will not survive this marriage if you cannot.” 

His mouth twitched, sighing as he lifted the flower across his chest and gently tucked it into the pin of his House that rested over his left shoulder as he turned to leave towards the door. His guard stood to attention, stiff and proper as he bowed his head while he was still preoccupied by the task of adjusting the flower against the fabric as he stepped into the hall, Ser Eryn’s eyes drawn to the plant that was neatly placed among the uniform. Benjicot exhaled, cheeks ballooning with air as his eyebrows rose briefly at the guard, his head tilting in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we?” 

The young Lord Blackwood led them throughout the halls of the keep, the sun beginning to set with the end of the day as evening enveloped the riverlands in darkness; the walls lined by lit torches that provided an orange glow despite the hour. He was given the odd bow of head as he passed workers House Blackwood employed, mutters of ‘my lord’ following him as he descended the stairs to the entrance. The doors to the great hall were already opened and readily greeted him as Ser Eryn followed close behind, relieved to find that the only commotion from the room was the sound of joyous laughter and the light hum of conversation filling the hall as he entered. 

His father had spared no expense with the extravagant display, the room lined with yellow and red decorations, the finest of silverware adorning the table as guests lined both sides of the table. 

He anxiously fidgeted with the cuffs of his doublet as he approached the head of the table, where his father and Serra’s family sat, waiting for his arrival. His father’s gaze eyed him from over his chalice, taking a sip as Benjicot found his place at a seat next to Serra, snug between her and Samwell. 

“--your men should reach the borders within the hour.” Elmo said in a hushed voice, leaning towards Samwell, attempting not to bring attention to the conversation. “They should meet the camp as soon as they get there.” 

Benjicot frowned as he pulled his chair forward, “What?” 

“Nothing.” Samwell quickly replied, setting his drink down and scanning his son’s appearance. “You look well-rested.” He said. Ben sensed his struggle to utter the words, not used to extending compliments. 

“Thank you.” He quietly replied. 

He could feel his eyes linger, following his father’s eyes to the flower on his left shoulder, “You’ve added some personal touches to your uniform.”

“It’s from the yards.” He answered, reaching for the wine pitcher from the table and bringing it towards his cup, pouring himself a drink. 

In the corner of his eye, he could make out the sight of movement as Serra had turned, mid-conversation with who he soon figured out was Oscar when he turned to look over at her whilst setting down the jug. Her gaze was fixed on the flower that was tucked in as part of his pin, delicate and perfect there, her lips parting but not saying anything. 

“It’s a nice touch,” Samwell said. “I like it.”

Serra looked up at him, a blush creeping across her face as she flashed a small smile, shy and genuine as she then looked down to her lap. He tore his gaze from her and looked once again at his father who rose an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” Benjicot mumbled, lifting his cup to his mouth.

masterlist | backward

TAGLIST: @username199945, @cxcilla, @thethiccestdaddy, @deltamoon666, @drwho-ess, @callsigncrushx @clarityisnofun @jhepolie @juhdoche @majoso12 @roseheart5 @nixtape-foryou @poppyflower-22 @accidentpronedork @tannyfairy @maximizedrhythms

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

random ask but should love and deepspace become a cdrama or an animated series, which actors do you think will fit the bill?

I think this is a really interesting and meaningful question. Thank you for the question. Tbh I don't think any actors will fit. This involves an idea or unwritten rule of chinese fandoms including xianxia fiction and especially otome game (by especially I mean If Paper is going to do this, it's crazy, it's suicidal, it wants to go out of business, and no game company would dare to do this, including genshin impact. Chinese players will kill them no kidding lmao. Because of this, such attempts also face a vacuum market that no consumer or audience will buy into. If they ever do this, it must be all of them possessed by aliens). Chinese fandoms think no real persons can be compared with or can cast zhipianren纸片人(lit. paper people, referring to all fictional characters born in two dimensions such as art, novels, animations and games, etc., with positive overtones). They call the practice of capitalists trying to bring live-action revival on zhipianren/paper people 真人化zhenrenhua(real people casting paper people, slightly pejorative in fandoms and neutral in non-fandoms). They think zhipianren is pure and remains artistry given by their creators. And actors for otome game characters? I asked my chinese friend and she said shockingly 真人请勿碰瓷纸片人 meaning real people stop piggybacking on paper people's popularity and clout. So that is basically the fundamental viewpoint of chinese otome game fandoms. I don't think they are haters of actors because so many players believe that otome characters are real in another dimension, in fact not only otome but also many other fandoms, and artists also believe that their OCs are real in another dimension. It's almost a kind of pure faith. In addition they believe that the appearance and grooming of zhipianren is perfect, and this perfection does not refer to their bodies or faces, but to a kind of demeanor and temperament of theirs, which, because it exists only in a two-dimensional space, can be fully imagined and experienced by people. Zhenrenhua will completely ruin the imagination and the pleasure. Besides the point, chinese fandoms always get the first hand information of chinese entertainment industry so they've seen too many nasty scandals and flops of male actors especially idol actors. Cnetizens are pungently honest, and most of them just despise male chinese actors, especially idol actors (excluding a few with both talents and personal morals and proved himself with years of efforts, e.g. zhang songwen张颂文 in The Knockout/狂飙 but he is not idol actors so). Just because these idol actors have a large following on social media doesn't mean the general public likes them. I asked my friend and she said there's also the fact that people are extremely picky about the appearance of actors playing zhipianren, and it has nothing to do with discrimination, people just don't want their imaginations tarnished. But there are a few zhenrenhua that are big hit, and even though there are still a few hard-core fans of the original work who boycott them, the general public and a lot of fans of the original work love them, e.g. the Untamed陈情令, and Yi Ren Zhi Xia异人之下/The Outcast (the cdrama version, and they think the movie version recently released is a piece of shit). That's why I agree with them that there is no actor who will fit the bill.

[theinfinitelibrarysystem]

bnha/mha, my criticisms.

the order in which i put them does not imply I think some of these issues are worse or not as bad as others, it's just the order I think of them in.

1- bakugou katsuki. a bully who doesn't change, but gets worse. from suicide baiting, to attempted murder, and is consistently forgiven and encouraged by every character in the entire story and the fandom.

2- the sexism in the story and fandom. (I went on a whole rant about this but I don't want to write too much about it because it enrages me)

3- fanservice. and the fact that when a male character is used for fanservice it empowers them (male characters uniforms being broken, exposing muscular chests, while female character's exposure does not flaunt their strength, just beauty and sex appeal, even teenagers.)

4- THE FACT THAT THE ONLY TRANS CHARACTERS ARE EITHER A VILLAIN WHO DIED OR A SIDE CHARACTER.

5- character annihilation for the sake of the plot. fuck the plot. characters matter more.

6- eraserhead's shitty teaching and how the fandom sees him as a good teacher or even a father figure.

7- quirkless discrimination and how unadressed it was and how izuku just got over it after a bit in high school even with his lifelong abuser there.

8- 1-A abandonning izuku and before that forcing him to come with them to UA, endangering those sheltering there.

9- Eri being rescued from those who used her only to be used in a different way but it's fine because using a child for her quirk is moral if the heroes do it. 10- bad representation of teenagers and children.

11- HORRIBLE representation of people of colour. mirko is an angry and violent character who is blunt in her words. Rock Lock is also an angry character, and any very reasonable suggestions and remarks he has are ignored. it is a very common trope to have black characters always be angry, and while yes they can be, it speaks a lot about the writer that your only black characters fit the stereotype.

11- idolisation of america.

12- endeavours "redemption"

13- lack of quirkless characters (what happened to 20% of the population?)

14- mineta's entire existence

15- shit pacing

16- shit plot

17- shit characters

[team7-headquarter]

Team 7 introductions are like:

Naruto: I want to obtain POWER so I can force people to look at me like an actual human being and not a monster, haha! They won't ignore me or isolate me anymore! They're gonna BEG ME and put their lives on my hands and— Oh and ramen. All the ramen. And maybe prove to everyone that they are dumb ass fuck for not believing in me? Yeah, prove them wrong, that's cool! And and and Iruka-sensei is cool! I'm so happy when someone does the bare minimum and respects my life and acknowledges the fact that I'm just a kid and that I'm suffering (one of) the craziest discrimination acts applied by our government Hokage...

Sakura: you know how the first real goal I got like the first thing I wanted for myself after years of being bullied and being nobody and wanting to disappear was the affection of this boy? Well, all these other girls think I don't stand a chance and that they'll get the boy, so I'm gonna win the boy and laugh at their faces. Does it mean that I need validation and affection and attention and love? Not, what are you saying, I have a perfect normal life and parents that are totally involved in my life and I am happy! So happy! I wouldn't know what sadness or loneliness is like! Never! I'm normal and totally nothing to worry about!

Sasuke: you'll find that the things you like in life are meaningless when you carry the trauma of being the sole survivor of a genocide committed by the brother you loved and adored. I want him dead which shouldn't be surprising given that we live in a society ruled by violence, right? I hate a lot of things because I'm painfully aware of how miserable our reality is. Since this is my trauma, no one else has the right to do something about it. They certainly didn't seemto have the balls to go after him, even when they call him criminal, so I'm gonna kill Itachi myself. Obsessed you said? Try enjoying life when you know someone can commit genocide and no one would give a fuck and the government won't do a thing. Try caring for others knowing they can get kill any day and you'll have to look the other way. I dare you to.

Kakashi: *most emotionally neglected adult in the village, abandoned as a kid, saw his father do the right thing and get so socially pressured he ended up commiting suicide and the government didn't give a shit, forced to become a perfect weapon at young age to show off the village strength, forced to become an elite assassin as a kid, people in the village widely making fun of his trauma and acting like he's just weird / peculiar and not on the verge of losing his mind for real, a champ at dissociation and a minute more away taking roots in front of the graves of his mistakes because he spent way too much time there in self-punishment, basically the most miserable jounin in the whole village*

Kakashi: hm, I won't let you get to know me or get close to me because everything I touch dies and I don't want to get attachments because you're soldiers and you might die and it doesn't matter that I have history with two of your families and that you all remind every single minute of the boy I watched die and the girl that I killed and the boy used to be. You will never know any of that. I am a whole man with a whole life that you'll never know because I am just your superior here and you must obey me in our missions. I'm definitely not hiding the fact that the village just failed me and set me up to be the one who failed you all in case you get killed or lose your shit once and for all.

[platoniccereal]

i think jinx is alive because otherwise it wouldn't make sense narratively. it would've been nasty, even.

this reminds me of the story arc of xiao in genshin impact. xiao is a character who doesn't see any worth in himself, he's a disposable weapon. he sacrificed his social life to his duty and would readily sacrifice himself, too. in one of the story quests he does exactly that, and gets saved by his father figure. and still to this day i see people who agree the developers should've let xiao die there because it would've shown the darker side of the game.

but why would that make sense? with both jinx or xiao, it would be such a bad tone to let the end of the openly suicidal character's arc be them succeeding in a suicide attempt, whether it's self sacrifice or not.

genshin devs made the statement of that quest that xiao is worth something and he needs to see it, and there always will be people ready to save and help him, and an attempt disguised as self sacrifice shouldn't be his first response. the same is applicable to jinx.

her ending overall makes sense. she had to be presumed dead so there aren't people chasing her trail, but she had to break the cycle by walking away. it's not the cycle of violence that many centrist stories about discrimination make, oh the two sides are just pointing fingers at each other and should just stop. because it's not what silco says. deaths following one another, people getting fed into the jaws of the system existed before, and this will continue. i think through the hallucination of silco jinx's mind arrives to the conclusion that the cycle of oppression is unbreakable for one person to try.

jinx isn't the one to stop it. jinx needs to walk away from all this pain. not because this is how oppression will stop, but because she just can't do anything else. wasteland sings how she wants to just rest. if death is like falling asleep, then she chooses death.

but writers choose to let her walk away in peace. because any other choice that isn't a happy ending would've shown that she was right all along when she tried to off herself. it's not a hopeful conclusion to her story, but in my opinion it makes sense.

[bougiebutchbitch]

thanks for asking me questions and then blocking me, really shows you're open to genuine conversation /s. we don't need our own special buzzwords as transmascs because "transphobia" already exists. the reason why "transmisogyny" is a word is because it describes a very specific and unique overlap/intersection between transphobia and misogyny that neither word alone can communicate. for trans men, though, the separate words can communicate our experiences just fine. so, are you just jealous that some trans people are more oppressed? or are you pissed at the idea that some trans people are more oppressed than you in the first place?

Pissing on the poor again, are we? You're once again putting a hell of a lot of words in my mouth.

I blocked you because I took one look at your blog and realised you have dedicated your entire life to arguing that transmen do not deserve words to talk about themselves. There is literally no point in me continuing this conversation with you. It would be like talking to a MAGA supporter, or a brick wall.

...But I'm gonna give it one last try anyway, lmao.

I think it's very reductive for you to focus on 'who is oppressed most' when my point is simply that transmen do face their own forms of oppression.

Absolutely, in a lot of aspects, trans women are undeniably subject to worse discrimination. Cis men literally kill trans women and still get away with it all the time. The fact that most bigots' immediate thought when you say 'trans' is 'man in a dress' is incredibly indicative of how transmisogyny is a very real problem, and is rife in society!

But this is not about who has it worse.

The point is that transmen face a hell of a lot of transmasculine-specific issues too. Such as accessing gynaelogical care and abortions when looking specifically masc, especially considering the massive lashbacks against abortion care in the US and elsewhere around the world? Not to mention how MOST OF US DO NOT PASS. Or we 'partially' pass, and thus get subjected to misplaced transmisogyny - which may be misplaced but still gets us hurt and killed? And how T is a controlled substance that we can get arrested for having??????

That's without mentioning the MASSIVE rates of 'corrective' sexual assault. We have the highest sexual assault rates, according to numerous studies. A lot of studies talk about us having the highest rates of suicide and suicidal ideation too, which I will dig out for you when I'm not in bed.

Transmen are seen both as corrupted little girls who need saving and raping back into conformation, AND as dangerous evil men who are predatory and a threat! That's a very particular niche of transphobia which doesn't apply to every trans person out there, though transwomen can absolutely identify with certain aspects of it!

This isn't to say that what trans men face is 'better' or 'worse'. Just that it's different. And that's okay? We're not taking anything away from trans women by talking about our own problems, and the vast vast vast majority of trans women know that and support us, because they know that we're all part of the same disenfranchised community!

The fact that you are determined to reduce every suggestion of 'maybe transmen deserve words to talk about their specific experience too' to 'you think trans women aren't actually oppressed' indicates firstly that you are not listening to me, and secondly, that you are not ready to engage with people on this subject because you care more about stirring shit within our community. There is literally no point talking to you, so, yes. You are blocked. Cope. x

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

Oh. Oh my...

Like, I already had my suspicions when Bushnell's last words involved using the term "colonial". But... this... this is so much worse.

Worse was his insinuation that that there's no such thing as an Israeli civilian (which includes Arabs navigating their own issues in the country) and blatant statement that there's no such thing as an innocent in Israel (including children who legally don't have agency; not to mention laborers). What's galling about it is that it's exactly the same kind rhetoric that is used against Palestinian civilians due to the irregular nature of Hamas; ie "there's no way to be safe around a Palestinian".

Also, setting aside the whole subject of indigeny in the Levant, the fact that he focused on "early days of colonization" for the US is an easy out for Americans today. Because it's not like indigenous folks still aren't here and still aren't subject to deprivation. Many times with disparities that are much closer than 3 miles. I don't see him excusing the idea of nonindigenous Americans being killed off en masse today. Nor did his final words fully disavow his decision as *a whole* (as opposed to just because we back (((them)))) to voluntarily enlist to be the arm of a colonial state by his definition; him potentially being generations here didn't change that.

That last point also goes to another dangerous precedent concerning nativism. Especially when you consider the perception of many recent immigrant groups (specifically from Asia, Africa, and the ME) as privileged compared to long standing communities, as well as the friction that has caused (including that of displacement and discrimination).

Oh and it goes without saying that being coherent and lucid doesn't mean good mental health. I mean, he very well could have been, but the point is that we need to not gloss over how severe of an act suicide is.

[greenunoreversecard]

Hi! ^^ Can you do lloyd garmadon x reader? Like literally anything. Im so starved for fics it isn’t even funny 😭

A/N: this came to me in a dream

This is a drabble.

TW: DEATH, SUICIDE.

Each line break to Hamilton means new memory/setting btw

Wait for it

Theodosia writes me a letter every day

The hardest thing about being in love with a huge political and slightly governmental figure is the fact their always gone.

But there was a simple fix; writting each other.

Normally we text, but because he's always in such high altitudes and other dangerous areas, it's been easier to write letters.

I'm keeping his bed warm while he's away

And it's worked well enough. When I do get to see him, we both joke about how our relationship is just 'victorian style'.

Luckily, the other ninja have let me live in the monestary, so I get to see as much time with Lloyd when he's back. The only condition is that I do upkeep- the chores and all that.

Love doesn't discriminate, Between the sinners and the saints

"How did you and Lloyd even meet?" I hear Jay ask from behind me, slurping the last of his drunk from his straw. "I don't think you guys ever really told us"

I feel a hand slide onto my waist, and I startled lightly before realising Lloyd's finally woken up. He hugs me from behind figure encasing me in his post-nap warmth and his head lolls into my shoulder.

"We met at Doomsday. They were a new employee" Lloyd turns his head to the right to look at Jay as he speaks.

"Typically nerd stuff. Should've expected it" Jay replies rolling his eyes.

I can sense Lloyd's eye roll, but don't see it as I'm busy cooking. I do feel his head turn back into my neck, and his soft press of kisses.

It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway

The last time I spoke to Lloyd in person there we got into a... Disagreement, of sorts.

I never meant to stir up anything.

I had asked why every ninja needed to go on every mission, instead of just sending 2 at a time.

I mean, all of them are exhausted, and could use the time to themselves, switching out shifts with each other or something.

That was the wrong thing to bring up apparently.

One thing led to another and the debate got heated, to the point I left the monistary and went to go live with my friend for the time being.

I couldn't handle it at that moment.

its been about 3 weeks since then.

We talked over phone but decided it's best to live separately because the close quarters was giving him anxiety, due to the fact their already at risk of being attacked and he didn't wanna drag me into it.

I understand that. It just hurts because he let all of it out onto me, all because of a suggestion. I can understand how worn thin he is, maybe it wasn't the best time. He had, after all, just gotten back.

He told me we would talk in person about everything, we'd lay it all on the table after he got back.

From another mission.

I didn't know its be his last.

Death doesn't Discriminate, Between the sinners and the saints.

Its kind of ironic, it ends where it began.

Doomsday comic.

It has been a normal day, until that point, I'd gone into a shift.

It wasn't until 8 hours into my 10 I heard the screaming.

Our glass windows shattered. Some sort of- monster thing breaks in through the window.

It looks decrepit and I can see the dark red dripping from its mouth, the once blue shirt sticking out of its jaw.

The smell is putrid now, and gets worse as it's ink black body creeps closer. I duck down underneath my counter and press the emergency button.

Im covering my mouth, trying to hold down the vomit from the sheer smell of the eyeless creature, and I hear it's wet patters against the floor. It looked like it was made of tar.

I don't get another moment to think before I hear a crash. It's towering over me now.

"Don't FUCKING touch them!" I hear a voice call from behind me and the creature.

A flash of green.

Lloyd.

The monster teeters where it stands from Lloyd's attack, and I make a dash for it.

"N/n stay cl-"

I don't hear the rest of Kai's warning before I turn around.

I wasn't smelling decay, I was smelling acid.

Beams falls. I scream.

A flash of green.

A gush of red.

Lloyd's arms are caged around me, and his scent would be comforting if we weren't stuck in a pile of rubble.

"Hey, baby. Are you alright?" He asks, eyes gentle and searching.

I nod.

"Ok, just uh- I'm sorry I've dragged you into this. And uh, don't look down, k?"

"Dove, I knew what I was getting myself into by dating you and wha-"

I look down.

There's at least 1, maybe 2 beams sticking out. Of his torso, one lighly impaling my leg.

I feel my bile rise again.

My eyes water. I knew what was gunna happen.

"I- I said dont-"

"No. No. No. No-"

My breath picks up.

"I- this isn't real- I cant- this-"

"hey hey hey, look in my eyes baby? Mkay?"

I look at him through my tears, his figure slightly blurry.

"its-...." he pauses, wincing and forcing another breath to enter him. "don't forget what I say next ok?"

I nod quickly.

"Y/N M/N L/N, I love you more than anything. You are my yin, you are my life. You are my everything. And I need you to know, I will always love you."

"Don't- don't speak like your gunna die, Lloyd, please."

I hear the others calling us.

"it's-" he forces another breath. Can I kiss you, one last time?"

"your not gunna-"

"we both know its give or take a few minutes, baby."

I kiss him, like it's the last time I every will.

Because it is.

Life doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes

I don't remember anything after that.

I miss him.

I miss my Lloyd.

It's been 6 months since then. The ninja disbanded. And I'm at the tallest tower in ninjago city, debating if I should take a leap.

Life doesn't discriminate

My left foot dangles precariously.

I jump.

Wait for it

[kogji]

Why didn't Yoojin ever stop going to dungeons?

An unforgivable mistake in tsctir manhwa is to show Yoojin as a suicidal when he was a true survivor in the novel. His unwavering determination to go into dungeons and endure the harsh and merciless life of an F class is my favorite part. It make a great sense in so many ways.

Yoojin is filled with guilt for going into dungeons but we know If he hadn't spent all those years in the dungeons and followed the news closely, he wouldn't have been so knowledgeable and experienced, and even if he had been given a chance to save the world, he would never have been able to do it. He is able to save the world because he never gave up on taking back Yoohyun.

After 3 years of separation, Yoojin wants to get back to the way he and Yoohyun were before. As I said in this post Yoohyun never had any intention of staying by Yoojin's side but Yoojin doesn't know this. He wants to restore his respect as the hyung. Awaking into a strong hunter is his chance to stand proudly by his little brother's side and be his protector and guidance again but the nature isn't kind to him.

After becoming an F class Yoojin's bridge back to Yoohyun breaks down and now Yoohyun brazenly looks at his eyes and tells him that how worthless and wretched he is. It's official, the mighty guild leader can't stand him. Yoojin being an F class gives Yoohyun more reasons and makes him more savage and animalistic, he never wanted hyung back anyway . Before that, their fights were two-sided, but now he can tongue trash hyung one-sidedly for being worthless and the nation is behind him to kick someone who has fallen.

Strangely, after finding out that Yoojin's skill is to be a caretaker, Yoohyun worsens his behavior. He embraces his nature as an S class but not Yoojin's nature as a caretaker that his mere reason to live is to be with his child. Yoojin just wants a little sign of his younger brother being somewhere inside that coldhearted guild leader's body. Yoohyun withheld everything from Yoojin, he withheld himself. Yoohyun was, is, and always will be Yoojin's everything. A caretaker's existence is defined by his child and Yoojin loses his.

The dungeons are the enemies that took away the life that Yoojin knew and treasured. The dungeons are where Yoohyun spends most of his days in them. There are the only places where he Yoojin can breath almost the same air as Yoohyun. The only places where he can become stronger so that he can have a place in Yoohyun's life again. The dungeons stole his life, they must give it back. He knows all odds are against him but being in dungeons, challenging them, getting out of them alive, and becoming stronger, is his way back to Yoohyun. He stares at fate's face and spits on it. How much I like that.

Yoojin becomes the subject of hatred, contempt, ridicule, harassment, discrimination. He takes Churchill's advise to heart,' if you're going through hell, keep going.' Yoojin keeps going and takes it all in. Instead of sending the pocket with delivery service he goes to the guild to hear the brutal and unbearable humiliation from Yoohyun and his subordinates. I adore him for doing that. He goes through it all.

He's screaming ''I've been treated like an animal. I've been scammed, kidnapped, betrayed, disgraced, harassed, ridiculed ,attacked but I won't give up. I will have my son back."

The best part of the first timeline for me is Yoojin being in dungeons despite his feet. Not being able to walk isn't a good excuse to give up on your brother, is it?

[youtherthyf]

censoring info on suicide, mental illness, abuse, racial discrimination, and violence doesn't "protect minors" from anything it only makes it harder for children(or adults for that matter) struggling with those things to get access to useful resources. enables abusers and fascists to run undisputed while people calling them out get the hammer, and gives more power to state entities to in act censorship on the web of any subject state attorneys don't want people knowing about(like the genocide in palestine, history of violence against minority groups and lgbt folk, the attorney's own criminal connections, ect.). enforced through even more intrusive spyware anyone supporting this bill is either a fascist who wants the internet censored or an idiot who doesn't know how the internet functions outside of facebook. this doesn't only affect americans, we are affected too because most big sites are american run, go to stopkosa.com and send your complaint to help stop it

[molsno]

hii so im kind of confused about the general inner workings of transmisogyny as an extension of transphobia and was hoping you could clarify. basically, transphobes & terfs in particular say that trans women are men, however they treat trans women differently than men, dehumanizing them on the basis of their gender. i always interpreted this as a form of gender discrimination that aims to define trans women as a lower or subhuman class, a third gender of “not quite men but undeserving of the title of woman”. does this conflict with the concept of bioessentialism, i.e. that trans women are fundamentally men? i see people say that “transphobes see trans women as men” but from experience that’s not quite true. men receive privilege and rewards for being men that trans women don’t. sorry if this is incoherent im just trying to get a better understanding of it

your understanding is pretty good to be honest. trans women are a separate gender class - an underclass to be specific - and transmisogynists are aware of this, even if they claim to see us as men. does this conflict with bioessentialism? not necessarily, but in some ways it does.

the thing is, though, logical consistency doesn't particularly matter to bigots. that's why basically all of the laws designed to oppress trans women, despite all of the fearmongering about how some technicality in how they're worded will result in them targeting cis women and other tme people, are ultimately only going to be enforced to the fullest extent against trans women. for example, tme people would rightfully be furious if a teenage cis girl was subjected to a genital examination due to the suspicion that she's trans and playing in a high school girls' sport. this would unambiguously be sexual assault, after all. but ultimately, she would be allowed to continue playing (not that she'd likely want to after something so traumatizing, but I digress), and she would probably (not certainly though) have some kind of recourse available to her due to the backlash this incident would cause. if this happened to a teenage trans girl, though, would anyone care? would there be outrage about this? she would have gone through the exact same kind of sexual assault, but the law in that scenario would be functioning exactly as intended. no form of recourse would be available to her. sure, you could make the case that a cis girl might not be able to sue the school district due to financial or other barriers, but a trans girl would have no ground to stand on, legally speaking; she would have broken the law, no matter how unjust and discriminatory the law is.

so violence against trans women broadly isn't recognized as violence against women because we aren't viewed as women. but we're not viewed as men, either. for another example, let's work through the lens of sexual assault again. if a tme person of any gender accuses a trans woman of sexual assault, there is little to no doubt that she will be viewed as guilty automatically, both by other tme people and by the law (the trans panic defense is still legally admissible in many places). in the best case, this will lead to her ostracization and isolation, putting her at higher risk for instability and suicide. in the worst case, this will lead to her imprisonment or death - REGARDLESS of if the accusation is actually true or not. the justification for this is that trans women are secretly perverted men who are trying to prey on innocent cishet people, but the basic idea underlying that premise isn't even something tme people truly believe! if they actually viewed trans women as men, then her guilt wouldn't be quite so certain. men can commit sexual assault every day and face no consequences for it, even when brought to trial with clear and damning evidence, because patriarchy ensures that men won't be held accountable for their actions. of course, this isn't always the case, marginalized men often do face intense scrutiny, many times involving violence. but even adjusting this analysis to account for additional factors such as racism, trans women still receive absolutely none of the same solidarity, leniency, or respect that men of the same demographics as them do.

fundamentally, trans women aren't treated like women or men in society. we're treated as a disposable and undesirable underclass of women that everyone else is free to abuse without consequence. any claims by transmisogynists about what gender they see us as is posturing. we are treated in unique ways as a result of our status as transfeminine. that's exactly what we mean when we talk about how transmisogyny is a unique form of oppression. bioessentialism certainly plays a part, but its contradictions are so obvious that it can only be understood as one piece of a much larger puzzle.

[no-passaran]

Hi, it's Asexuality Awareness Week and I would like to share one of the reasons why it's important to raise awareness: including asexuality in legal protection.

One of the reasons why legal protections are necessary is the case of asylum seekers. Asexual asylum seekers, who are endangered in their home country, are routinely not accepted as asylum seekers because the legislation protects LGBT people but doesn't include asexuality in the acronym.

Let's see a couple of examples:

In 2018, an Algerian man applied for asylum in the Netherlands, explaining that he feared being persecuted in his country of origin for being asexual and for refusing to marry his niece.

The Netherlands, a country that accepts LGBTI asylum seekers, did not accept this man's asylum request because asexuality is not mentioned as being in the LGBTI. The court also said that asexuality is not punishable in Algeria. But not being legally called by its name and explicitly punished does not mean asexual people don't face discrimination, forced marriages, and threats of violence and rape. (Marriage itself, by the laws in most of the world, must include "consummation", whether the people involved want to or not).

This is the case of a 26-year-old woman living in Senegal, using the pseudonym Jade. Her family, across the border in Guinea, demanded that she find a man to marry. Her sister told her that if she didn’t, their parents would force her to wed a man who would rape her.

In Guinea and Senegal, forced marriages are common – the same sister who threatened Jade was in one herself. Divorce is also heavily stigmatised – when one of Jade’s cousins told her abusive husband she wanted a divorce, he said he would shoot her, her mother and himself.

Jade is a sex-repulsed asexual woman. She feared being married to someone she didn’t love and being subjected to so-called “corrective rape” until she bore children.

She considered suicide.

Her mother suggested sending her to therapy to fix her "aversion to marriage", when Jade refused, the mother said she'd "fix" her herself. She had Jade lay on the floor while she put her hand on her chest and prayed over her, asking afterwards whether she felt any different.

For a while, Jade’s last resort was escaping West Africa permanently. After she began studying in the US, it became her first choice. When researching what her options were, she found the case from the Netherlands that we've talked about before this one. She also found that legislations that aim to protect LGBTQI around the world don't include asexuality.

At present, the only piece of legislation which explicitly mentions asexuality is New York’s Sexual Orientation Non-Discrimination Act of 2003. However, that didn’t help Jade. A New York lawyer told Jade that there was no information as to whether asexuality was grounds for asylum in the US. After a long process of trying in the USA, she couldn't make it but after a year and a half she found an opportunity to do an internship in Ireland, where she lives now.

Since leaving West Africa, Jade has learned that her parents had chosen a husband for her without her knowledge, not long before she managed to escape. She says that, had she not been able to escape, she wouldn't be alive today.

This is what people mean when they say "asexuals aren't LGBTI!", "We can't have asexuals stealing our resources!". These are the kind of resources they mean: the ones that could save the life of a person being discriminated against for not being heterosexual heteroromantic and not conforming to the normative ideas of what their love and sex life should be like. An issue that is deeply shared with the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community.

[ilovereadingandstuff]

Okay, so I was doing some chores here at my house and, out of nowhere (something completely normal forr me as a fan of bnha), chapter 413 popped in my head, especifically pages 13-14, and I started rambling my ideas...until I realized something.

Izuku is going to lose OFA.

Ok, not that, which is literal text, but this:

Izuku is going to lose OFA, and while arguing with Kudou and the others vestiges, he was crying his eyes out because what mattered the most to Izuku about losing OFA, among ALL the consequences and intricate meanings which 'becoming quirkless again' could represent...It was the fact that OFA was a gift from All Might that made Izuku's heart ache in agony at that moment.

ch. 413 Here I want to note that the spanish official translation says exactly the same, so there's no contradictions.

It was not that he was going back to his past self, not that he most-likely would have to face that discrimination he went through all his childhood all over again. Not that losing his quirk could mean that he would have to stop being a hero. Not that he was gong back on being useless/worthless again...ANY OF THAT! BUT because he is 'losing the gift, meant for him, from his daddy might'...THAT'S what was causing his tears...

And from this, I see two things:

First...

IZUKU YOU BASTARD!!

HE'S AVOIDING AGAINNN THINKING OF HIMSELF!!

And, I'm sorry, but being quirkless is not goddamn easy!

It has been explained several times in the development of the plot that bnha's society is based on superhumans: people with quirks.

Being just a regular person without a quirk is a really complicated thing to deal with, and having that particularity means facing problems both on a social and psychological level.

In Aoyama's case, for example, his parents were so devastated over the fact that their son was quirkless, and therefore, he was feeling excluded and different from others, that they reached a point of despair that they made a deal with AFO and, well, you know the rest.

Another one that comes to mind is Ragdoll. Her inclusion here in the list could be debated, but what I want to distinguish about her character is that, after losing her quirk completely by AFO's doing, she had to face a huge set back in order to re-organize her new life now without a quirk. She didn't appeared in the story for many chapter until it was explained that she was still working as a hero but in the backstage, to say in a way.

And finally, Izuku is one of the clearer examples of all this (and that's why he's the protagonist).

He had to deal with bullying, rejection and exclusion (from their classmates when he was in elementary/middle school to the entire society against him). His OWN mother had her own troubles to support him over a dream that was impossible to achieve because, once more, confront villian with a broad range of hazardous quirks against a single person was basically suicidal...

On note of all this, I have to mention this scene (which I say now: I'll bring this up over and over again, a thousand times if needed). I've mention this specific situation in one of my posts before, but now I'll explain it more in depth:

ch. 72, pages 19-20

WHAT ABOUT THIS HORI!!??! HUH!!?? WHAT'S THAT?? WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN???!! "BIRTH DEFECT"!?? "HE JUST COULDN'T ACCEPT THE TRUTH"?!?!

This scene has always been stuck in my head since the first time I read it because...here it explicitly shows Izuku's demeaning perspective over 'being quirkless'.

Here he's saying that "it's a defect", an imperfection, something he lacks on (because society has made it a necessity or requirement).

And even in spanish, even though it doesn't translates as 'defect', it highlights the idea of 'he didn't get what he should have received' (in this case, that his parents 'couldn't provide him of that')

In both languages it is mention the phrase where he explains that ' ' 'his friend' ' ' always kept believing EVEN when the universe was proving him wrong again and again.

My point here is: Izuku has a negative view of being quirkless (just as any other person in-universe would have) and with that, the possibilities of him having a list of low self-esteem issues, lack of confidence and self-value even as a human being are REALLY high...

but then, the fact that Izuku, after having been thrown around for the most dangerous villian of all, shirtless and crying with a bunch of ghosts inside his head...when they're telling him of getting rid of what he should have had always what makes him human...he doesn't think of him. of the problems he would have to face. of the pain he would go through again...

Instead, he thinks of 'the gift from All Might', almost as if the quirk were a toy All Might gave him and that he shouldn't lose it because All Might would feel angry or sorry for him...

MAYBE, maybe I'm going around the bush and making no sense... but FUCK IT! I WANT ANSWERS, HORI!!

I NEED THEM!! I'M LOSING MY MIND!!!

Why is he refusing himself again?? Avoiding HIS feelings but worrying about others'? Or rather, worrying about THE THING instead the consequences it causes the lost of it??!

WHY IS HE ALWAYS THINKING OF ANYTHING BUT HIM?!

Second...

Ok. Now that I've calmed myself down and said what i was meaning to say...after having been screaming internally against Izuku and all his shit...the second point I wanted to talk about was that...

With everything that has happened, a GREAT opportunity would be presenting itself to develop the dad-son bond Toshinori and Izuku have been building since the beggining.

Let me explain:

When All Might first came to town and met Izuku, their bond began to form because they were interating with one another because of OFA. The 'you're my successor' was the excuse and only connection they had to be together. And for that same reason is how their relationship exists in the first place.

So...if Izuku loses OFA. If that excuse stops to exists...the only reason for them to continue being together would be the love they have develop for one another as father-son.

If Toshinori could spell out loud to Izuku that he cares for him beyond that 'you're my successor' or 'the one I gave it my quirk'...if they could transcend that lame excuse and finally spoke to each other as human beings...

GOD, maybe I'm projecting myself here because I LOVE their relationship and i would gladly like to see Toshi legally adopting Izuku or them calling each other 'my son' and 'my dad'...but, yeah...

Those are my ideas about the new chapter.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Would you recognize an autistic or ADHD person if you saw one?

What about an autistic or ADHD fictional character?

Many of y'all will say, of course.

And you'll be wrong.

I'm not talking to hatched autistics and ADHDers. We can usually spot others like us and autistic/ADHD coded characters in fiction.

Definition: A 'hatched' autistic or ADHDer is someone who knows they're one or the other or both, AND they understand and accept that pretending to be neurotypical is bad for us.

It actually kills us, so, yeah, bad. The leading causes of death for autistics is unaliving or heart attack from the stress of living in a world that was most certainly not created for us. In some ways, this world is antithetical to us.

We also experience the stress of what's known as 'masking'.

Our average age of death is 36 years old. Think about that for a second. 36. And the rates of unaliving in autistic and ADHD kids is utterly obscene. The suicide watch for parents of autistic kids starts at 8 years old. 8.

(I don't say this for everything, but self-diagnosis is absolutely valid for autism and ADHD. In a world where people can still be institutionalized or lose their kids because of an autism diagnosis--this is fact for Britain and several US states. France is awful for autistics-- self diagnosis must be valid so we can figure ourselves out without endangerment.)

Masking is where a traumatized autistic (and I've also never met or even heard about an untraumatized autistic/ADHDer) will create a, persona, almost, that lets us function in the world.

It's rarely intentional, my youngest son started masking at 4 in pre-kindergarten because he wanted other kids to like him and want to play with him. Even though our home is very supportive of diversity, especially about autism and ADHD, y'all... he was *4*.

Being autistic and/or ADHD is so damned lonely. Especially if you don't know why you're different. So we do our best to adapt. That can cause issues.

Masking isn't meant as a lie. It's survival instinct. Because even though the world absolutely doesn't treat us like we're human beings, we still are. We want to survive and thrive as much as the next hominid. We have all the same needs and desires as any other human.

But what about the rest of all y'all? Can you recognize us?

Last week, a music teacher banned a 6 year old autistic kid from the school concert because 'they would ruin the experience for the other children' this is after making the autistic kid learn and practice the songs for weeks. 6 years old and that kid already has scars from discrimination about a genetic condition he can't help. It's cruel and so damned inhumane. At worst, the kid probably sang off key and maybe fidgetted a bit. But that would 'ruin' the concert. It's not the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, lady, it's an elementary school concert. It's absolutely not worth scarring that poor kid over. It also happened back in 2022, and again in 2017.

People will have seen 'Atypical' or 'The Good Doctor' or, gods forbid, Rainman and think they know what autistic people look like. (You should probably know that the majority of autistics loathe those shows because the rep is so bad.)

But here's the thing.

You can't see autism or ADHD. Not just by looking at us. It's purely a brain wiring difference. People don't even believe me when I tell them I am if they've seen me in person. And I'm professionally diagnosed as both autistic & ADHD.

Sometimes, there are co occurring issues, like intellectual disability, that are confused with autism, but they aren't actually the autism or ADHD part of things.

I'm an autistic and ADHD advocate. I have a consultant option on my Patreon for people who want advice either for themselves or so they do the right thing by their kids. I'm autistic/ADHD, my kids are too. I've been researching and learning about the topic for close to a decade at this point. I truly know what I'm talking about. I understand the different flavours and experiences of these two types of neurodivergency extremely well.

As an aside, while I have you here, ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis) is never the right thing. You know how gay conversion therapy is bad? The same person (Ivar Lovass) came up with ABA, and it's meant to do the same thing. To torture people, most often children, into pretending to be what someone else wants them to be. It doesn't support or help the autistic person.

Almost unilaterally, ABA causes a PTSD breakdown of self coming into our 30s. I say almost, but I've never even heard of an autistic person who has been tortured by ABA who hasn't developed severe PTSD.

If you tried to use the methods used in ABA on a dog, you'd be guilty of extreme animal cruelty.

Yet, because it's practiced on human children, it's fiiiiine. Big money lobbying has even made it so that ABA 'therapy' is the only one covered by a lot of insurances.

We can thank Autism $peaks for that. They are a hate group. They fit every bit of the definition of one and then some. (So please don't donate to them at the till. They love to pollute stores like Toys 'R' Us.)

Adult autistics have been speaking out against them forever. But since most autistics (80%) are under or unemployed, we don't have the kind of financial sway we'd need to get rid of them. Yes, this even counts for 'the new ABA'.

You can't save ABA. Putting a 2 year old human child through 40 hours weekly of 'training' so that they can look and act neurotypical is just flat out torture. Making a child 'extremely hungry or thirsty' so that they will do what you want is torture. There's just no other way to slice that apple. It's rotten to the core.

But back to my point.

Recently, someone disagreed with my opinion on a fictional character. I feel the character is autistic/ADHD coded, the other person disagreed.

That's cool. Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. And it's fiction, whatever. I'm not mad or upset. (I'm slightly insulted, because if you're not autistic/ADHD, [and a comparison they suggested made me think they definitely weren't] it's definitely not your place to disagree with one of us who says a character is autistic/ADHD coded. It's disrespectful and more than a little ableist. Simply because so many people have the completely wrong idea about both conditions.)

Regardless, the important part for a fictional character is that a person was able to see themselves in the character, to empathize with them. So it's not a big deal.

But it got me thinking about this.

Would most people recognize the subtle signs? They're almost always extremely subtle.

Ever hear of 'resting bitch face'? It's an incredibly common autistic trait because we either emote less or we emote differently than neurotypicals. In our world, it's known as 'flat face effect'. I have it, and I've been harmed many times because it looks like I'm pissed off even when I'm having a good time or I'm just deep in thought. I've got a firey temper, trust me when I say you'll know it when I'm pissed off.

So. You see a character (or even a person) who doesn't emote a lot? Or emotes extremely subtly? Wellll... that's a good clue.

So, X fictional character (or person) has odd or esoteric knowledge or hobbies. That's a good clue.

Are they nerdy or geeky in some way?

Most autistics and many ADHDers experience what's known as hyperfixation on special interests. Ever see someone get so fascinated by a topic or skill or activity that they get lost in it?

Forget to eat or drink?

Learn to do an obscure craft just because they wanted to know how it's done? That person is likely autistic or ADHD or both. It applies to fictional characters too.

Are they stand-offish? Many of us are for various reasons. One is that we're trying to figure out the 'rules' of wherever and whoever we're with.

Why all y'all insist on staring creepily at each others eyeballs is beyond me. I find it either too intimate, painfully so, or just ridiculous.

That quiet character (or person) who warms up slowly? There's a hint.

Another reason we tend to be cool with strangers is that ever present trauma thing. So many autists and ADHDers get to the point in life where we just don't have it in us anymore to keep trying to make social connections. A very common trait of both autism and ADHD is a lack of understanding of neurotypical social rules. And trust me, y'all have them.

Does the character or person fidget? Either subtly or more obviously?

It's called stimming. I had to learn to do it unobtrusively, so I'll suck air through my teeth (my dentist isn't impressed by this), circle my pointer finger around my thumb, tap the pad of each finger on my thumb in a rhythm, count silently to myself... the list is probably endless. I intentionally leave the cuticles on my thumbs rough, because I often rub the forefinger or ring finger of that hand over the rough cuticle as a stim.

Maybe they rotate their ring around a finger?

Play with their hair?

Stimming is something that calms us down and helps us regulate our emotions. (It's also one of the first things ABA robs us of. It's called 'quiet hands'.) It's really bad to deprive an autistic or ADHDer of stimming.

I used to click the button on a pen so much that I banned myself from having clicky pens because of how annoying it can be to others.

There are healthy stims and unhealthy ones. (Head banging is an example of an unhealthy stim.)

So a character or person who is just, always moving somehow? There's a hint. Or they're rhythmically moving a body part? Tapping fingers? Wiggling a foot or leg? Fussing with their clothing? Rocking?

Is the character or person 'a walking encyclopedia'? In other words, do they know a lot of information about either one or two topics or about many topics?

That character (or person) is often stereotyped as being a computer genius who can make any computer work just by looking at it for a few minutes. But it can honestly be any topic or combination of topics. That's another clue.

Many autists are almost hard wired to be painfully honest. Unless we've been traumatized into it, we tend to be shitty liars. I'm, unfortunately, a very good liar. It's not something I choose to do, because I don't want my trauma to change something so innate to me as my honesty. I had to learn to lie to survive. I don't recommend it.

Does the person or character truly believe in things like honour? Justice? Mercy? Peace? (Many neurotypical people will call these things social lies that keep the world working.) I'm talking a bone deep belief in honour etc. Are they a shitty liar?

I think I've blathered enough for now. I want to make it clear that I don't speak for all autistic and ADHD folks. I'm just one person attempting to share some of the more common traits with whoever wants to read about it.

A final thought.

Nothing can make someone autistic or ADHD. It's a genetic condition. Which is why so many parents find out they're autistic or ADHD when their kids are diagnosed. It's not more prevalent now, it's just that more people are learning about the actual parameters of it. Diagnosis is easier now than 50 years ago. It's been around since ancient Egypt and probably evolved as a way to keep the clan safe in prehistoric times.

We often have heightened senses. Sometimes we have what I call 'predator vision' which sounds awful but just means that my gaze is automatically drawn to movement. Our sleep cycles are also commonly very different than a neurotypical's. We probably ended up being people who would take night watch, stare at the stars for hours, or warn people when food has gone off so no one eats it.

I think we evolved right alongside neurotypicals because we're both needed for a successful society.

Many, many of the world's famed thinkers/creators are considered to have likely been autistic/ADHD based on records about them.

These people include:

Leonardo DaVinci

Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni

Nikolai Tesla

Albert Einstein

Thomas Jefferson

Charles Darwin

Emily Dickinson

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

William Butler Yeats

Vincent Van Gogh

Benjamin Franklin

People who are autistic or ADHD these days that you may not expect?

Dan Ackroyd

Darryl Hannah

Anthony Hopkins

Jerry Seinfeld

Eminem

Courtney Love

David Byrne

Wentworth Miller

Satoshi Tajiri (creator of Pokemon)

There are also many, many people who have shown autistic or ADHD traits and haven't confirmed or it's impossible to confirm because they're deceased and we don't have the right records.

It's considered a massive faux pas to assign a diagnosis of anything to a living human being. So everyone living I've listed has in some way confirmed it. There are many, many other people (especially in creative industries or hobbies) I believe are likely one or the other, but I wouldn't label. That's for them to do.

If you enjoyed this or learned something and you can, please consider a tip or becoming a Patron. My work of words is my only income.

Every historical person is just a 'likely' because we'll never actually know. All we can do is point at the exhibited traits via records and say, probably.