#it has been a physical and mental experience folks | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vriskerfic8ion · 1 month

Text

Script for my speech (it pro8a8ly won't turn out nearly as long)

Nongender transIDs are a valid form of identity, and their existence does not inherently harm minorities that may be the subject of the identity in question.

To even discuss this topic, we must first answer the question: what is a transID? As a prominent individual in the transID community, I would generally define them as good-faith identities analogous in experience to transgender with varying causes and intensities. In other words, these are identities in the same category as transgender that deal with things other than gender. Under this school of thought, one can theoretically identify as and/or feel dysphoria about any aspect that they themselves do not have in body or mind. Some examples that have commonly cropped up in internet discourse in recent times have been transrace, transability, and transharmful.

Upon hearing those terms, you may have a knee-jerk reaction. “Transabled, isn’t that offensive? Isn’t that ableist? Why would you want to have a disability?” And I ask you in turn; why are disabilities a bad thing? Should someone be ashamed of their disability? Is disability inherently undesirable to you? What’s more ableist: someone genuinely feeling as if they should have a disability, or what you just thought in your mind upon being introduced to that prospect?

But, is it actually offensive? Surely to have authority over a facet of oppression such as disability or race a community must have members of those groups right?

To answer this question, I ran a survey. I asked the community what marginalized groups they fall into in terms of gender, sexuality, race, disability, and humanity. Out of the 227 responses - which while small still accounts for a decent chunk of the active community - these were the results.

Only 34 respondents identified as cisgender. 78.2% said they have experienced discrimination on the basis of their gender.

Only 5.3% of respondents identified as heterosexual, with 68.6% saying they’ve experienced sexuality-based discrimination.

Only 58.2% identify as genetically white, 45% as physically disabled, and 68.6% as mentally disabled.

I find it safe to say that by demographics alone, transID cannot be offensive when so many members of the community are a part of marginalized groups. Minorities aren’t a monolith, no community is. We all have differing opinions on matters like this. What truly matters is that the struggles we as transID folk experience are cripplingly real, both in terms of dysphoria and internet harassment.

Take me, for example.

My primary transID identity is transcharacter, where you feel you should be a fictional character. When I first discovered that I'm Vriska Serket, I was overcome by the worst dysphoria I've ever felt in my life. Worse than my gender dysphoria has ever been. And that feeling, that negativity toward the fundamental structure of my being, has never abated. I dare you to tell me that’s not real. I dare you to tell me that my lived experience is silly, stupid, or fake when I only resist hurting myself because I know that seeing the color of my blood, and seeing that it’s not cobalt blue, would make me feel worse.

But what’s almost as big a threat to our lives as our own emotions is the harassment we face online. Given that the biggest gathering of transID individuals is on Tumblr, a social media platform famous for its discourse, there is a lot of hate directed at us. I will not be showing you specific screenshots out of respect for privacy, but I will give you some anecdotes from me and my close friends.

One of my friends had to be sent to the mental hospital after antis traumadumped in their inbox in an attempt to trigger them.

I’ve been threatened with having my eyes gouged out because I’m trans’half’blind.

There have been multiple accounts on Tumblr dedicated to having us burned and drowned and otherwise violently killed.

Me and several people I know have been told that they would be beaten to death if someone found out that they were transID.

One of my friends got an anonymous message describing, in detail, how they were going to rape them to death and desecrate their corpse.

Just last week, someone I’m in a Discord server with got their name and address doxxed.

We’ve been called predatory racist ableist transphobes because we identify in ways they don’t like.

We’ve been told to go burn in hell, jump in front of a train, shoot ourselves in the head, blind ourselves, drown ourselves, I could go on.

Right now, as I stand here, I am afraid for my life. I am afraid that one or more of you is one of the violent individuals I’ve faced online, and that I’m going to die the moment class ends. That one of you is going to kill me because I had the gall to express feelings I have toward my body!

That is the sort of shit we have to deal with on a weekly basis. Just for daring to describe ourselves in a way they don’t like. But why don’t they like it? Let’s deconstruct some of their most common arguments.

TransIDs are transphobic.

They usually say this because we share some of our terminology with the transgender community. Why would we do this? It’s because a whopping 85% of us are Not Cis. We’re already familiar with both the terminology and the experience, so we use words that, mind you, are already in the dictionary with definitions not inherently tied to the transgender community, to describe our experiences.

If you’re going to bar someone from using the prefix of “trans,” you have to agree that discussing transformation is offensive. Transaction? Oh hell to that! Transportation sure as hell isn’t safe, you’d better rename that to “crossportation” right fucking now. Or, perhaps… arissoportation? Make it not so offensive, yeah?

No, that’s obviously stupid. When I searched the online Oxford dictionary for “trans-” the earliest use I could find was 1574. In comparison, according to an article from The Conversation, the prefix used in terms of gender has only been used since 1910.

TransIDs are made up to gain oppression points.

This is among the most common arguments I hear. “You’re just an attention seeker and/or you just want to be oppressed.” And that’s an interesting take, because attention seeking is a good sign that someone is emotionally neglected. We, as biological primates, crave community. And I have seen folkel identify as transID because of this, to some extent - my most common sighting is transracial folkel who are POC feeling as if they’re “not dark enough.” So, it’s never just because they want to be oppressed. They feel like they SHOULD be oppressed.

Another argument that goes with this one is that we as transID folkel are “stealing resources.” And yeah, if you’re, say, buying thick water because you’re transabled, that’s a dick move. But I never see that. What I see instead is folkel doing simple things to help relieve dysphoria. Me wearing this eyepatch isn’t me stealing resources from the blind. I made this myself out of fabric, string, and prayers. It’s not a medical-grade eyepatch. No transID individual is going up to folkel and ripping off their bandages, or pulling their wheelchair out from under them, or anything like that. We work with what we have.

All transID individuals were groomed into it/the transID community is a cult.

Another common argument I see is that we - and the wider radqueer community - are a cult. Now, for something to be considered a cult, it must fit the BITE model. BITE is a pneumonic for behavior control, information control, thought control, and emotional control. Let’s assess the transID community using this model.

Behavior control - given that by pro-transID ideology you can theoretically identify as anything, we’re very pro-autonomy. If anything, we do the opposite of behavior control. We encourage freedom of expression to any extent.

Information control - On a surface level, it might look like there’s some information control going on in the transID community. There’s not a lot of resources validating our experiences, and a lot explaining why we’re all horrible pedophiles and shit like that. The reason why we don’t encourage listening to that information is because it tends to circle back to the same five arguments that can be easily debunked, like we’re doing now. These sources of information are made from a place of hatred and used for shock value… think the litter box argument that conservatives make against therians. It’s that same sort of fallacy.

Thought control - One could say there is some small degree of thought control in the transID community, because we heavily discourage negativity toward identities you don’t understand. Simply put, you’re not pro transID if you’re not pro all transIDs. The community can be quite reactionary in this regard, and this is the only point I’ll agree on. It can be quite toxic. But “toxic” isn’t the same as brainwashing others into cult doctrine.

The same kind of goes for emotional control - we can get defensive, but ultimately? We’re a small group on the internet. We’re not organized enough to control anyone to the degree that cults do. In fact, throwing such a word around is very offensive to cult survivors!

TransID individuals are all kids.

The last argument I tend to see is that we’re all kids under the age of 16-18. Simple statistics disproves that one, according to my survey we as a community are majorly (49.6%) over the age of 18. There’s not many folkel 30+ in the community, but that makes sense since older generations tend towards exclusionism and conservative thinking.

But even though we’ve debunked their arguments time and time again, antis will still keep coming back. They still want us dead, they still want us to rot in hell because they find us personally offensive. This shows that they haven’t developed a theory of mind around the subject. Theory of Mind is the process behind understanding that the thoughts and emotions of others aren't the same as your own, and accepting that. This usually happens around the ages of 4-5. In other words, if you go after us for identifying in a way you don’t like, you are quite literally acting like a child.

So what’s the solution here? In a word? Education. If these identities were more widespread and expressed in meatspace more often, there would be more questions and thus more answers. Folkel wouldn’t have to go undercover into our safe spaces and make assumptions. We love answering questions! I love answering questions! Which is why I’m opening it up to you. If you have questions about my experience as Vriska or about transIDs in general, I’m going to direct you to my Tumblr account. My URL is vriskerfic8ion, which is on the board now.

If we educate others on the transID experience and have folkel stop being suspicious of us, we may be more free to express ourselves. There might even be procedures created for folkel to modify their bodies, so for example I could get my eye removed.

Sure, we might offend some individuals. I’m not going to ignore that. I’m not going to ignore the feelings of those who are against us, who genuinely feel like we’re a threat to their existence. And I’m here to tell you: we are not the enemy. We are not out to invalidate your experiences with trauma, and racism, and ableism. We experience those things too. We have our own traumas, and a lot of us use transID labels to cope with that. We have reasons, real reasons, to identify as we do. It’s not to be quirky, and it’s not to be transphobic. We are merely putting words to experiences, and if you don’t like that? Block us. Refuse to interact with us.

But that’s only a temporary solution, because we’re everywhere. We’re in your schools, your workplaces. The folken serving your food could be transID. The folken teaching your classes could be transID. The folken sitting next to you could be transID. Why are you wasting energy hating us when we’re not going to change our beliefs? Like it or not, I’m still Vriska. I’m still looking to physically transition. I’m still going to remove my eye, and pierce my skin, and bleed for the futures of those shat on by groups who are supposed to understand our plight.

Your thoughts change nothing.

So the next time you meet someone who’s transID? Be kind. Be opening, welcoming. Ask questions. Suspend your disbelief. Accept them for who they really are, and kill the cop inside your head. Because at the end of the day?

We all just want to be our true selves.

#radqueer #transid #transcharacter #pro rq 🌈🍓#rq community #rq safe #rq 🌈🍓#rqc🌈🍓#transid community

73 notes · View notes

whatbigotspost · 1 year

Text

What I wish I could get people who didn’t grow up in highly controlled, abusive environments to understand is that when the very people who are forming you are really fucked up and bad, you are FULLY incapable of knowing that as a kid.

You’re not capable of “damn my dad is really not ok” or “mom is toxic” for a long time. It’s years and years of “this is life. That is my dad. That’s my mom. It’s just how it is.” It often takes PAINFUL moments of realization to get to even questioning if your life isn’t normal. In fact, in my experience, it takes many painful moments to eventually get you there. Someone at school making fun of your parents, for example. Or some outside caring adult noticing things they seem worried about w/ you. Or a particularly extreme incident of abuse that shakes you. Or reading/hearing someone recount abuse they survived and you get the sick realization it’s like a mirror for you.

When your primary caregivers are your means of survival, your brain wraps you in many many many protective layers of denial and whatever the fuck else it needs to so that you can get through it. Many folks like myself will spend more time healing ourselves as adults from our childhood than we spent in the childhood of trauma itself.

Also, let’s be real, an implication I’m making here is that a lot of folks don’t even pick at the thread of “was I abused?” because it’s too overwhelming all together. Or even “was my childhood kinda fucked up?”

Spoiler alert. If your childhood was kinda fucked up, it’s better, in the long run, to acknowledge and address that. Anyway, this is my characteristically long winded way of wanting to recommend some books on the subject that I have found deeply relatable and meaningful:

•Jeanette McCrurdy’s memoir I’m Glad My Mom Died: If you’d be up for an unflinching look at a deeply difficult childhood that includes physical, sexual, and emotional abuse and neglect and disordered eating in the Disney-universe, this is your read. Thinking about what McCurdy has had to overcome chills me to my core but the feelings she shares in words felt deeply relatable and I know they will help many.

•Ashley Ford’s memoir Somebody’s Daughter: I’m biased to love her because she’s a fellow Hoosier but you will love her too. Incredibly well written and deeply moving, Ford’s memoir covers her childhood with an abusive mother, a father in jail for rape, and survivorship of her own rape, as well as her place thriving now. She offers us such meaningful processing of her story. (And just writing style wise, this one is a mega fave.)

•Grace Cho’s memoir Tastes Like War: this one is a deep dive into Cho’s upbringing with a mother (who like one of my parents) has schizophrenia. I found her account of having a first hand seat to a parent’s mental health decline too relatable. The components of her story that focus on her mom’s experience of war and immigrating from Korea and the role that Korean food plays in their lives, are moving beyond words.

•Tara Westover’s memoir Educated: having been raised in a very isolated, survivalist Mormon family and tiny community in Idaho, Westover shares her personal story of a quest for escape and education. Although my family was nowhere nearly so unusual and isolated as Westover’s, I feel what she chronicles will highly resonate with anyone raised by someone who seeks to keep you away from “mainstream influences” or who is any level of survivalist.

Obviously, these are heavy reads and DO NOT check them out if you don’t feel in the right headspace. Each one moved me to tears multiple times. But if your awful/strange childhood and leaving it (them) behind makes you feel alone trust me YOU ARE NOT ALONE ❤️

I also recommend these reads for anyone who wants to see at an anecdotal level what are experiences of people raised in highly abusive environments and/or raised by parents struggling with mental illnesses and/or people raised in high control situations. Chances are you know/love someone who fits that description and you may gain helpful insights.

#abuse #rape #mental illness #child abuse #neglect #resources

420 notes · View notes

watchstarscollide · 2 years

Text

If I Can't Have You | Homelander

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

» Summary | She was the most aggravating being he had ever been around, and Homelander has dealt with a lot of irritation in his life. But how could someone be so annoying yet he couldn’t even get her off his mind?

❥ Pairing | Homelander x Reader

★ Word Count | 9.4k

» Warnings | slight degrading, negging, pinches of dacryphilia, possessive, manipulation, jealousy, slight fluff, idk what this is honestly. Homelander is not a "good guy", ya know?, Homelander POV

↳ AN | This has been a WIP for a long time. I started writing this a few months ago right after I watched season 1 so this does not follow any sort of storyline or season. It's just it's own thing.

*This has only glancingly been proofread so apologies for any errors!* Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He watched her day after day since the moment she walked into the hallowed halls of Vought. Her hair pinned in a bun, perfectly neat without a strand out of place. Her pencil skirt always pressed and proper - and never above her knees. She scurried past people with eyes casted down as she hurried room to room with coffees in hand. And when she was asked for anything unplanned she lit up with an excitement and vitality not yet corrupted by the corporate world.

She was new.

She was innocent.

She was annoying.

The very moment Ashley walked in with yet another intern Homelander’s eyes had already rolled halfway into his brain. Just another person to be cycled through the system under the guise of work experience and a hopeful job offer, only to end in a mental breakdown followed by complete disappearance to the industry. The time, the training, the niceties. It was a hassle, it was tiresome. Homelander had better things to do than play nice with the help.

She introduced herself to The Seven - a sickeningly sweet tone dripping from behind her bright smile and full lips. She twiddled her fingers as she spoke, her thumb providing a physical comfort by rubbing the back of her hand raw. She gave the same bullshit spiel that every single one before her gave.

“I’m so excited to work with you.”

“You have always been such an inspiration to me.”

“I am always around, don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”

Homelander snorted. As if he could face the shit he had to on a daily basis but be afraid to ask some girl to pick up his dry cleaning. Her head whipped over to him, her doe eyes widening ever so slightly. She was nervous to begin with, he could hear her pulse from across the room. The possibility of starting with a bad impression was enough for her blood pressure to skyrocket as her complexion flushed.

But Homelander was nothing if he didn’t know how to charm.

“We’re only able to do what we do thanks to folks like you,” He forced out, accompanied with the rehearsed smile he knew dearly. “Welcome aboard.”

She gleamed at that.

She’d lasted longer than the rest. Almost 2 months later and she still entered a room with that exuberant smile as she trailed behind like a shadow. She and Starlight became fast friends it seemed. Made sense. They both were the epitome of irritating naivety. However their friendship meant her presence became more and more frequent around The Seven. Not only to do what she was hired for but occasionally entering the meeting room just to talk. And she could talk forever, droning on and on. Laughing her pitiful little giggle at every single thing.

Homelander could feel as his dull headache began the longer she stood around. Not to mention the nauseating smell of the sickly sweet perfume she wore every day that permeated the room for hours after so much as just walking by the open door. Sometimes he would still be able to smell it around him during the dead of night when he was alone. He couldn’t escape her even in his sleep, her sparkling eyes haunted his dreams. Baring into his soul like a siren. They were more like nightmares truly.

Her eyes flicked over to him as a muffled groan sounded behind his gloved hand as it swept over his statuesque face.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He snapped, breaking his composure. “This is called a meeting room, I’d like to actually get the meeting over with.”

The girl stuttered for a moment attempting to grasp at any of the words that came to her mind. It wasn’t the first time the man had shown a side other than endearing patriotic hero seen on television but it truly was not something she had fully come to terms with. His shift in tone, the scorn behind his normally gallant eyes seemed out of place.

The girl ducked her head, “Y-yes sir, I’m so sorry. Please let me know if there’s anything I can get for you.”

She didn’t understand why the Supe had developed such a distaste for her, but it became more and more obvious as time went on. At the start he was every bit the man she had truly admired, it was hard to hold back the admittance that he was always her favorite of The Seven. He spoke with clarity and assured authority. He was magnificent to see in action and with a smile and wink he was truly every bit America’s sweetheart.

The facade seemed to slip away somewhere along the line, she couldn’t even be sure of when. It started with a simple cold shoulder - that one she could understand. She was just a lowly intern in the presence of universal marvels. The indifferent snub eventually became direct disdain. He would roll his eyes plainly when she approached him or walked away from her when she attempted to offer any service. And her obvious attempts to stay in his good graces only made him grit his teeth harder.

But she always tried, surely he couldn’t just hate her.

The nail in the coffin came only a few weeks later.

Press and PR was on the list of things Homelander hated the most. When things were too quiet in the city and there wasn’t pests to discard or bombs to defuse to make Vought look good, press was the way to keep in the people talking. Whether that was TED talks, morning radio, or the classic late night talk show- it all kept the news cycle turning.

Homelander could only be so lucky to do any one of those, but the universe seemed set on welcoming him into his own personalized circle of hell. In the effort to be more ‘accessible’ and ‘relatable’, Vought had set up rounds of internet influencers to have their chance at a one on one with America’s greatest hero.

Because nothing could be as meaningful as a Buzzfeed article or a Snapchat story. Or God forbid…a Tik Tok.

And just to put the cherry on top of his day - his favorite intern was his sole wrangler for the whole ordeal. It was already expected by him to hear her accelerated heartbeat every time she popped into a room, but as she stood in the back behind the lights and cameras her hummingbird heartbeat was louder than any micro-celebrity that believed yelling equated to humor. Being her first time flying solo it was truly a test of her competence, no doubt a trial run before she would be considered for a more permanent position.

Great.

She fiddled with the belt that hung off her jeans loud enough that Homelander could hear it as he spoke to the person across from him, his eyes twitching every time the metal prong clinked against the bar. He was glad that she didn’t wear the item of clothing all the time, her nervous habits would send him off the deep end if he had to hear it every day. Not to mention the way her tight jeans clung to her body, accentuating curves that she never let anyone know she possessed.

Casual Friday. She never took part in it before - that day even allowing her hair to hang loose from the expected updo - she seemed to be getting more comfortable with her environment in recent days despite the deep breaths and the fidgets. But why did she have to pick that day of all days to suddenly switch up? Everything about her was disruptive. Homelander could hardly remember the questions being asked as she twirled her hair around her painted finger. Her eyes bore into him as he spoke, nodding along with whatever words spouted out of his mouth. As if it actually meant anything. Hell, he didn’t even know what he was saying aside from the various buzz words that were ingrained into his vocabulary.

She brought a paper coffee cup up to her plush lips as she watched on. The same cup she had for the better half of the morning - lipstick stains building up along the lid. She almost never wore makeup but had conveniently opted for a look that was hard to look away from, highlighting her features in a way that was almost striking. Did she think she was getting on camera herself? Because she certainly seemed to be seeking attention.

It was working and on more than just him. Homelander watched as she smiled against the cup as the interviewer cracked a few humiliating excuses for jokes. How could she find something so embarrassing be that amusing? It was almost degrading. Her eyes roamed over the interviewer speaking, a slight twinkle in them as something he said made her laugh audibly. The man looked over his shoulder at her with a smile as she held her hand over her mouth to stop the laughter.

“I’m so sorry,” She giggled out, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no!” The man interrupted her, his sly smile deepening, “I appreciate validation from pretty girls.”

A flush trailed up her neck as the man winked at her. Homelander cringed at the interaction unfolding before him. That’s what got a reaction out of her? The most cliche line ever formulated by a man? The words were fake and contrived, Homelander would know. Pretty girl? Now, he was no man of great manners, but he played one on TV. Even as a pick up line it was poor. The man could’ve tried harder. Beautiful, stunning, devastating woman. Something with more power, more intention.

Not that she was. But still.

“With that, I think that’s all I’ve got.” The interviewer stood up and held his hand out to shake with the Supe. “Thank you for your time and for everything you do for the country.”

Homelander’s jaw ticked in irritation. That’s it? He didn’t even get to have a final word, he was almost positive he didn’t even get to plug the bullshit he was supposed to. All because this kid got distracted by some girl? She didn’t even have to be in the room, she would’ve been just as useful outside the room where she couldn’t bother anyone.

Whatever, the interview was a waste of time to begin with. It was a mystery how this guy was even allowed to do media with how dull he was. No wonder he was kept online, no way he would handle the big leagues.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Homelander responded, flipping a switch to his signature heroic smile. But he made no motion to shake hands, instead stooping down to grab the half empty water bottle at his feet and turning to the attention of the makeup artist on standby to touch him up before the next lowlife walked through the door.

The man laughed awkwardly before dropping his hand and heading for the door without another word to the Supe. Homelander leaned back, shutting his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of agitation leave his body. He still had half the day to get through, hopefully with less eventfulness between. As he breathed back in the girl’s sweet perfume filled his lungs, recharging any anger that had left. It was like every part of her was handcrafted to permeate and irritate him. He needed to calm down if he was going to continue the rest of the day. There was only so much even he could take.

A whimsical giggle rang through the room causing Homelander’s eyes to snap back open in a flash. He sat forward slightly, the soft brush of setting powder following him as he moved to see what could’ve possibly been happening now. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness behind the lights his eyes focused on the sad excuse of a man that should’ve been halfway out of the building by now. Instead he stood leaned against the wall next to the intern, his eyes wandering her up and down as he spoke in whispered tones.

Homelander watched her smile up at the man, her lip caught between her teeth flirtatiously as she handed a phone over to him. Her eyes were lit with a delight he had never seen before, not even when she was standing in front of The Seven on her very first day. The man grabbed the phone from her hand, his fingers brushing against her skin purposefully and Homelander could feel his anger physically bubbling up in him.

What the fuck.

The kid wasted an opportunity to get his 5 seconds of fame with Homelander but had the attemptive gall to get the attention of his intern? And it was working? The girl had that little self-respect that she was excited for some nobody off the street to notice her? Of course, because that’s what she wanted. She got all dressed up and ready that morning in her tight jeans, her low-cut top, her hair tossed to the side because she lived for the attention. Because she couldn’t just do her job quietly and go home like everyone else.

“We’ve got a pretty busy schedule, pal.” Homelander called out, his voice booming through the quiet room causing everyone to flinch at the disruption.

The interviewer looked over to the Supe with fake smile and an even worse apology. He turned his attention to the girl once more with a wink before ducking out of the door quickly. What a disrespectful little rat.

The girl looked over at Homelander, the smile wiped from her face and worry taking its place in the crease between her eyebrows. She knew that tone from the man and she knew he wasn’t happy. They locked eyes for a moment in the uncomfortable silence of the room.

“Everyone out,” Homelander ordered, his stare never left the girl, “I’d like to have a word.”

The production team and makeup artist all shared looks before slowly filing out, leaving the intern alone with the Supe behind closed doors. The girl swallowed audibly though her mouth suddenly grew dry as Homelander lifted himself off his chair and slowly approached her.

“Homelander, I’m so-”

“Ah” He interrupted, an unsettling smile stretching across his face, “I said I wanted to have a word, didn’t I?”

Her brow furrowed deeper and her eyes grew soft, almost teary as she nodded.

“What is your job here?” Homelander clasped his hands behind his back as he paced in front of the girl. She looked at him, unsure what to say - if he truly wanted her to say anything at all. His smile never ceased as he urged her, “Come on, I know you have a voice. I hear it every god damn day.”

His tone and his face was every bit the charming hero that everyone loved, but behind his eyes and words there was something much more menacing.

“I-I’m here to provide support to Vought employees and talent by way of any requests or tasks assigned.”

“And what are you assigned today?”

“I’m here to represent Vought’s PR. To make sure all goes on as designed, smoothly and without anything unexpected.”

“Represent Vought?” Homelander questioned, his head tilted curiously. She searched his eyes, it wasn’t the answer he wanted. “Last I checked you weren’t an employee at Vought, is that right?”

The girl stuttered, “W-well, no…but-”

“I’m the only one that has any tangible meaning to Vought here,” Homelander’s smile dropped and he approached the young intern, his body casting a looming dark shadow over her frame. “So let’s get one thing straight. You’re here representing me.”

“Yes sir, I’m really so sor-”

“Oh cut the bullshit.” She winced backwards at his harsh tone until her back hit the wall but he continued to advance on her. “You think you’re the first person to try and smile their way into a position? You think you’re special? That you actually provide anything?”

Homelander could see the tears welling up at that point, and it somehow looked better on her than the gleam she normally sported. The way it collected in the corner of her make-up covered eyes and lashes, the slight flush to her cheeks and nose as her vulnerability shone through. The girl wasn’t as iron-willed as she thought - truthfully it was the most appealing she’d ever been.

“That little stunt you pulled with that guy, what was that about?”

She shook her head in confusion as her head dropped towards the floor, “I…I don’t know what you mea-”

“You just like feeling wanted, don’t you? By a guy, by a company, it doesn’t matter. You just need to feel some kind of assurance that you can’t give yourself. Because you feel useless otherwise, right?” Homelander asked, his voice dropping into mock sympathy. He brought his finger up to the girl’s face, his gloved knuckle dragging down her cheek and jaw until it settled underneath her chin. He forcefully lifted her head until she faced him once again. Her eyes were red as she held in the urge to openly cry.

“You think he actually has any interest in you?” Homelander shook his head with a patronizing smile as he said her name softly. “You are useless. You’re an embarrassment. And I have a little advice for you...”

The girl tried to move her face out of the Supe’s grip as a tear finally slipped from her eye but his cement-like hold kept her still. His shoulder shook with a laugh, his thumb extending up to wipe away under her eye as he leaned in slowly to her face. Her heartbeat lept as he neared, her eyes shutting forcefully in anticipation, her tongue sweeping over her lips as they parted submissively. Homelander preened with complacency at her assumption and he was almost tempted to fulfill her expectations. But instead he leaned in further until his nose rested against her temple. He breathed in the sugary scent of her perfume and warm vanilla of her shampoo - his hot exhale trailing over her ear and down her neck.

“Stay out of my way. Do that and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get to flash your cute little Vought ID to the barista like a real employee.”

He dropped his hand from her face and in the blink of an eye he was feet away from her and headed back to his seat. She watched him in a state of shock and horror as he sat back down, as if nothing had even happened. Her lungs began to properly regulate her breathing as the room magically returned to its normal size and the claustrophobia subsided.

“Thank God it’s Friday, am I right?” Homelander barked with laughter, the life and charm returning to his eyes and face as he fixed his microphone back in place nonchalantly. “Well, let’s get everyone back in here to get the show on the road!”

She stared at him with hopeless confusion, as if questioning if the past 3 minutes occurred entirely in her own imagination. He looked back up at her but only gave her exactly what made her heart flutter mere moments ago from another - a wink and a smile.

He didn’t see her again for the next week. He waited for her voice to enter through the door before herself - likely right before he conducted a meeting, interrupting and irritating him as usual - but she never showed. Every time he wanted something he looked around the halls, hoping to find the plucky intern to play fetch as she always insisted on doing but she was nowhere to be found. Her perfume even started fading from the rooms he normally felt suffocated in until he found himself wondering what the scent she wore even was.

A part of him was let down that she turned out to be just like the others, always gone the moment it got a little hard. He felt that he could’ve been a lot worse than he had been, he merely offered a bit of life advice. She seemed so enamored by the new company she kept, it was hard to fathom that she’d give it up like that. He almost found himself wanting to casually ask Starlight about her new friend but he stopped himself, what was to gain from it? Probably a woe is me story of his given dose of reality.

It was really too bad she was just as disappointing as he expected.

By the following week he had almost pushed her out of his mind enough to no longer wonder or seek out her presence. No one so much as mentioned her through the days but he truthfully wasn’t sure if anyone even bothered to know or care as he did. But how could they not show curiosity? How could they not notice that her shrill voice was absent?

And then he heard it. The melodic laughter that shot a pain straight to his temples as it echoed down the hallway. Homelander thought for just a moment that he may have been hearing things, even a Supe had their moments. But as the voice continued to float closer to the office he knew exactly whom it emitted from.

He surprised himself with how quickly he shot out of his seat to peer around the door, but as he rounded the corner he was finally able to see the person he had spent the last week pondering over. Dressed back in her prim and proper pencil skirt, her hair held up by a thin band in a tight bun. And hanging from her neck…a Vought employee ID.

Homelander huffed a short laugh, his eyes followed her approaching form as she walked closer and closer. The smile she always wore lit up her face as she spoke animatedly to the woman walking by her side wearing a matching ID. He had never seen the woman before, or if he had she wasn’t important enough to hold a memory of.

The girl hadn’t noticed the Supe standing in the doorway until she turned her attention back forward. It was hard to not see the large man with his arms crossed over his chest, especially as his eyes all but burned both the surface of her skin and within. Figuratively and literally. As her gaze caught his own Homelander caught the slight falter in her step as her smile dropped until it disappeared altogether.

“Well well well,” Homelander smiled and the girl noticeably cringed at the sound of his voice, “Looks like congratulations are in order.”

“Oh my god, you’re Homelander.” The insignificant woman next to them fawned, a twinkle of wonder in her eyes and excitement in her voice. Homelander didn’t even bother to look in her direction, his only focus being on the ex-intern in front of him. Though she hadn’t bothered to meet his stare, opting to keep her head ducked as he crossed in front of their path.

“Is that why you haven’t been around? What floor are you on now?” He asked, grabbing at the plastic ID on the end of the lanyard that hung loosely around her neck. She flinched at his movement impulsively. He read her name across the top of the card and looked over the picture that sat in the middle. Her bright eyes that normally shone innocence seemed to hold something deeper, a sharpness, a superiority that he’d never seen her express before. Homelander almost felt his own lip twitch upward at the notion.

“I’m just grabbing some stuff that I left up here,” The girl said, an edge to her voice as she ripped the ID out of his grasp. “Excuse me.”

She stepped around the man to continue her walk down the hall, her hand firmly gripping the woman accompanying her - pulling her quickly by her forearm.

“You know Homelander?” The unknown woman whispered as she jogged to keep up with the girl’s pace. She only continued her retreat, her only reaction being a quick glance back to the man as held his spot.

He watched, his jaw hung ajar as a million words threatened to spill from the tip of his tongue. She had expected him to follow, to hold her back, to say something. And he had wanted to, oh how he wanted to, but he held it in. At least vocally, mentally he was spewing a million thoughts a second.

How dare she. Suddenly she thought she had any authority to ignore him? What happened to the helpful girl who only wanted to please? Couldn’t even have a pleasant conversation with someone she claimed to respect. Where did this backbone come from? When did she become so defiant?

All this time he spent wondering about her, thinking of her and this was how he was repaid? Embarrassing him in front of others? Ungrateful was just another trait he could add to his ever growing list of grievances.

But why couldn’t he just let it go?

She was moved to marketing on level 15 more than halfway down the building. Homelander had paid a visit to Ashley and was able to get the information he wanted from the very person who assigned her there. He also made sure to wring her out about shuffling people in and out, it caused disruption to the natural ecosystem of the company and his team. She looked at him in total bewilderment, he had never once cared about where an intern went or if he’d ever even see them again. In fact, most of the time he was in a more agreeable mood when they were gone.

He watched her from afar, through floors, through walls. Watching as she shuffled from her desk to the water cooler or to get her own coffee, never once needing to serve others anymore. She was a hard worker, she spent hours at a time working on her own projects and those around her seemed to feed off her upbeat personality. The same personality that was almost like nails on a chalkboard to him. But every once in a while, out of boredom, Homelander would find himself tuning out the sounds around him to hone into that piercing voice or silvery laugh of hers.

But she never ventured to the 99th level and Homelander wouldn’t be caught dead in any civilian department. Besides, why would he care to?

They didn’t come face to face with each other again until months later. Vought’s annual kick-off event was an important one for the internal morale of the company. At the beginning of every fiscal year all employees were invited to the gala to partake in the provided cheap catering, the tone deaf DJ, and silent auction in the form of bulk electronics, bottles of wine, or tickets to a downtown tourist trap. It didn’t matter, the whole event would be a tax write-off anyway.

But the ultimate show of good faith was the chance to rub elbows with The Seven. They would walk around with smiles and handshakes, affirming with grace that they weren’t the real heroes at Vought. Sure, they were out saving lives and doing acts of god-like power but the Vought employees were the ‘real people making a change’. Everyone from the CEO right down to the janitors were all equally important and ‘fighting the real fight’.

Homelander could feel the bile rising in his throat as the words spilled from his mouth time and time again. Being the leader of The Seven came with more annoyances than perks. He had shaken so many hands by the midway point that he was sure the leather of his gloves were worn out at the palm. And through that whole time he didn’t even see the one person he was sure would ring his ears the moment she walked in.

He would never admit it but he took a hard glance around through people in search of her. Her hair probably pulled back though ditching the skirt and blazer. With a black tie event he wondered what she would look like in a formal dress. It was a toss up on whether she would be in something modest or something more form fitting. It was clear from the last time he had seen her out of the corporate uniform that she was certainly hiding underneath it. She had to be there, she was too proud of herself not too. He was almost surprised she didn’t use the event to have her own Cinderella moment as Vought’s newest darling employee.

But as she didn’t turn up and with passing time Homelander continued his rounds between the peons. More photos, arms around the shoulder, and lying through his teeth. Though he was used to the charade, that night it seemed to be particularly grating. His eyes frequently darted from his conversations to the corners of the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ex-intern. Or even catching her wafting scent through the crowd of seeping cheap perfume and aftershave.

A quarter of the way through Homelander started becoming irritated at his own agitation, he needed a moment alone to collect himself. He had made his way to the rooftop in an attempt to will himself the sanity to get through the night without letting his plastered smile fade away. Or worse.

The cold night air that swept through the railing of the deck was a great relief. The terrace was secluded and quiet, not many people ever came to the spot as the wind was often too strong or too cold. He was also almost certain an access code was needed through the stairwell door but he never bothered himself with finding out. The mere moments it took for him to reach the top of the building from the ground did more to ease his mind than the lifetime in an elevator would.

And just as always there was a certain beauty to the city from high above, especially after the sun had set and darkness took its place. The twinkling of lights bouncing between each building, acting as the city’s own form of stars in place of those that you would never see otherwise. There weren’t many things that Homelander found peace in but that was certainly one of them.

He basked in the nighttime glow, allowing himself the second of peace and quiet before he would inevitably have to return to the crowded room until the tiring event was over. If only he had the power to speed up time. Homelander closed his eyes, filling his lungs deeply with the chilled night air and zoned his ears to the city streets below. The endless sound of traffic, music, idle chatter, and in the between the murmur of noise, sniffles and soft breaths. Loud. Louder than any noise on the ground level which could only mean that it was much closer than the rest. His focus turned to the shuddered whimpers originating behind him somewhere beyond the entryway.

Normally he would have ignored it, been more ticked off that his area of peace was invaded rather than care for the reason for the pathetic cries, but curiosity got the best of him. He followed the emitting sounds around the roof until the sole proprietor came into view. A vision in a sleek glimmering dress, red faced with wetness trailing down her cheeks propped up against the sheet metal of the rooftop bulkhead. His little intern.

Her hair gathered into a messy updo that sagged onto her shoulder as her quivering form shook it loose. Her makeup smudged around her eyes as she squeezed them shut in an attempt to stop the small cries from escaping her body.

She hadn’t noticed Homelander, that much he knew. If she had there was no doubt she would have reacted noticeably. And if he was honest with himself, he would admit that he wasn’t sure what to do about that. His irritation dwindled to an awkward uncertainty of how to handle the situation that he was completely unprepared for. On one hand he was eager to say something, after all, he had been looking for her the entire night and this was a damn near perfect excuse. But on the other hand he could recognize the vulnerable state she was in and how unequipped he was to handle that. Both for her comfort and especially his own.

He backed away slightly, his apprehension pulling harder in the game of tug of war in his mind. She would likely come back downstairs at some point, the party would still be going on for a while and there was no chance she’d pass up the chance to mingle. She was too driven to let that go. He may have had to extend the time he wanted to waste at the event, but he would if it meant he would find an opportunity to approach her.

With his mind decided, he turned slightly to make his quiet retreat off the far side of the deck, though not without throwing a glance back over his shoulder one last time. His eyes landed back on the girl as she crumpled inwards even further, a sob wracking through her body. Her arms had crossed around her torso, her hands grabbing at her bicep and waist to hug herself tightly for any sense of comfort.

His motion to leave had faltered. What could have possibly happened to make his normally bright and spirited intern so visibly distraught? Even his personal shake down didn’t get this reaction from her.

The back and forth struggle reared in the Supe’s mind once again. He should leave her, let her gather herself back together at her own pace alone like she clearly intended. She had been up on the roof top seeking the same refuge and space that he had, he could choose to respect that. But truthfully, he didn’t want to. He was uncomfortable, he knew that there was little comfort he could give or even wanted to give, but he was also curious. He could almost feel an ounce of anger rising in his veins.

Who had done this to her?

Homelander took a breath and shuffled closer to the girl, his feet dragging audibly against the slab roof. He was never one to drag his feet though in a quick moment of decision it seemed better to warn the girl of his presence rather than calling out. And his plan worked, with a slight jump in her shoulders the girl’s watery gaze whipped up quickly to meet his approach. She recognized him rapidly, his stark blue suit bright against the night sky and the flagged cape around his shoulders whipping in the winds. She turned her head quickly in the opposite direction, a hand moving to cover her mouth and control her breathing though she knew as well as anybody that there was little that could get past Homelander’s senses.

“I came up here to be alone,” She said loudly, her voice wavering with the cry that was still caught in her throat.

“I would say the same but it’s a little hard to find peace and quiet when there’s wailing in the background,” He threw out without a thought. The girl’s head dropped until her chin hit her chest, her shoulder shaking again as new tears fell to her lap. Shit. Homelander shook his head, even when his intentions were halfway positive he couldn’t manage to hold himself back. Just a reminder of why he shouldn’t genuinely try to comfort anyone.

Should he stop? Should he go back downstairs to mind his own business? But his mind would still be on the roof with her, he knew that. He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about what was happening before him. Then he should apologize…right?

“I-..I’m sorry,” He forced, in his hushed tone it almost sounded genuine. She didn’t bother to look up and certainly not back at him - she didn’t make a move at all. But she didn’t tell him to leave again either and that was enough for him to feel okay with his move towards her. He stood next to her for a moment, glancing down as she continued to curl into herself. There was nothing to be said between them as she cried out whatever was going through her mind, but it eased his mind to be by her through it. And even more as he sat next to her and she didn’t shy away.

The sheet metal against their backs was cold, even Homelander could feel the discomfort through his suit, but a steady warmth radiated off her body that made the cool night a little more bearable. He looked over at her bare arms and exposed back, trailing the goosebumps that spread across her soft skin where the fabric did not reach. It was clear the temperature was far from a worry in her mind, though it was a wonder if it was also a cause for the tremble through her body.

Homelander reached his hands around his neck until his fingertips hit the clasps that held his cape to shoulders and collar. He pulled the long piece of patriotic fabric over his back as it came undone in a heap on his lap.

“Here,” He held out the bunch towards the girl to little reaction. She didn’t look over or even so much as move to see what his offering was. With a sigh he took the liberty to throw the cape over her form, draping it across her shoulders and down her back. She could’ve at least been grateful that he was even trying to be a nice guy.

He waited for a moment for a reaction, a regard of any kind but couldn’t say he was shocked when acknowledgement didn’t come. But as he finally looked back out toward the skyline he caught in the corner of his eye as she moved her hands down to wrap the cape closer around her shivering body. And that was enough for him.

They sat together in a silence, neither of them pushing a conversation or advancement past their physical presence. It was an odd comfort that neither of them would fess to.

The girl’s cries slowed down being replaced by soft sniffles and sighs. The shake in her body ceased until all was still around them. The sounds were replaced by that all too familiar chaos emanating from street level. Until she finally spoke.

“Why are you still here?” She asked. There was a touch of curtness in her tone though true malice was absent.

“Why are you crying?”

“Full offense Homelander, what’s it to you?” She shot back. The vitriol in her voice shot surprise through his system, but before he could say anything back she was already speaking again, “You are probably the last person in this entire building to be asking about how I’m feeling. For months you have done nothing besides ridicule me behind my back, roll your eyes at my help, and I don’t even think I have to remind you of the last time we actually worked together. I’m sorry, but I also don't think I need to explain why I’m less than open to expressing my feelings to you.”

She spouted so fast that it took longer for Homelander to even catch all of her words let alone process them. But there were two things he was able to note as she went off and neither had to do with the actual substance of her words. She wouldn’t meet his eye, she stared off into the brightly lit windows of the office building across from them. Her voice wavered as it all poured from her lips, but her confidence was only as strong as her lack of contact. And though her words contained the weight she held in for such a long time, she still couldn’t help but apologize for even saying them.

That was the girl he knew, the ever people pleaser.

“I get that,” He replied calmly, as if none of what she said had bothered him at all being that he only caught half of it. She finally looked over to him feeling that his eyes never left her. She searched his face for anything more, any indication that this was an elaborate way for him to hold something over her or if there was an inkling of sincerity in the man. He had never been so agreeable, but there was nothing there to tell her of any ulterior motives. Still, how could she trust that?

“Why are you here, Homelander?” She urged, looking away again.

He looked over the city with her as he contemplated his answer. Because he was nosy, was that the right answer? It was half the truth. Because he found it more entertaining than what was going on downstairs? That didn’t exactly feel right either. Why was he there?

“I have nothing better to do,” it was the least he could give her. The least he could make sense of.

She snorted softly, an ounce of a smile ticking up at the corner of her mouth. The statement wasn’t meant to be a joke but her reaction stirred something inside of the man to her side. “There’s an entire party downstairs full of people wanting to be with you.”

“And you think I would rather be in the middle of them?” He spoke honestly, more honest than he’d ever be normally but he could help but have it slip.

She barked a loud laugh, “A chance for people to fawn and admire you? Seems right up your alley honestly.”

He deserved that one, he knew it. “Believe it or not, I’m not really the biggest ‘fan’ of people.”

“Oh trust me, I believe it,” she scoffed with a sarcastic sneer. She’d been on the receiving end of that very attitude. She learned that the hard way yet still had the respect to keep a smile on her face and her chin up. That’s what rubbed Homelander in such a way when it came to her. She wasn’t just like everybody else, she didn’t comply or shy away. Her case was separate from all others.

“It’s different. You’re different,” He admitted, whether that was good or bad was up for debate between the both of them. He caught the subtle way her body stiffened at his words, but before either of them could think too hard on it he spoke again, “But that doesn’t matter, this isn’t about me. Tell me why you’re up here crying. Shouldn’t you be brown-nosing with upper management or something?”

Her shoulders slacked at his tone and words as it returned back to the man she had come to know. Homelander turned his head towards her as his ears caught a sigh of surrender left her, “If I tell you then can we call a truce between us? I’m tired of walking on eggshells.”

He hardly felt a truce was what was needed between them but nonetheless he found himself nodding her along. Another deep sigh left her body as she moved backwards to slump against the wall, her hands gripping his cape tighter to her.

“You were right.”

He waited for her to continue, his eyes roaming over her form as she still refused to look at him. But as he waited and searched for an explanation, he felt his patience waning.

“Is that it?” He asked with a huff, “That’s not news to anyone.”

The girl laughed softly. A real laugh that lit up her face despite the sparkling of tears left pooling at her eyes. Her smile gleamed the same way he recalled in his memories as they replayed through his nights, too bright and unfeigned. Though in place of the normal annoyance he had felt seeing in the past, a warm comfort hugged his chest.

“Sorry, I know that wasn’t meant to be funny,” she shook her head and paused for a moment. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly in the silence. The crease in her forehead accentuated the words that were stirring in her mind. Her hesitation was clear but Homelander kept himself silent until she found exactly what she wanted to say, he was curious.

“You’re kind of an asshole, you know that right?”

The man’s expression wiped from his normally prideful face. Maybe it was the setting, maybe it was her emotions that were already shot, but it seemed her normal respectful and reserved manner had disappeared. Her honesty and lack of care had taken him aback and made him even more interested in what else she had held back, what other thoughts floated in her head, how could he know more? Her hands moved down her form until they rested on her lap, the cape hanging loosely over her bare shoulders. She calmed herself before speaking again, seemingly relaxed further that Homelander hadn’t come back at her with anything to tense the air any further, which was truly the real shock.

“Tripp never actually had any interest in me.”

Homelander thought for a moment, her words hanging between them. Who? The girl looked over to the Supe sitting next to her when no rebuttal came or even a move to respond. For the very first time in her presence, the man looked genuinely confused. Not even an attempt to appear knowing.

“The guy back during your press round. The one before you…you know.”

Oh.

“The shitty interviewer?” Homelander absolutely never even bothered to know his name. Figured it would be something equally as inept as him. He seethed that you were on a first name basis with the little shit.

“We had been seeing each other since then, I should’ve seen the red flags every time he asked if he could come by the office but I just thought it was sweet. Maybe he wanted to see me so much that he couldn’t wait. But with me being new I always told him it wasn’t a good idea.” She sighed and swiped her hand across her cheek, embarrassment creeping through as she continued, “This morning I invited him to come with me tonight and he seemed excited, asked about the chances of me introducing him to the rest of The Seven. I told him it would be hard because I don’t work with any of you anymore.”

She shook her head, the glistening in her eyes returning as a pitiful laugh escaped her body, “Long story short, once he knew that then all bets were off. Told me if I couldn’t get him closer to you all then there was nothing in it for him. That I was useless to him.”

The girl pulled her legs closer to her body as fresh tears slipped down her blushed cheeks. Soft sniffles came from behind her crossed arms as she hid her face between them.

Homelander’s jaw clenched. He knew that guy was nothing but a prick, how could she be so naive to put investment into something like that? There was absolutely nothing that guy could’ve offered her that would’ve been worth anything. She was supposed to be smart.

“You said it best, anyways” she continued quickly, “For once I wanted to feel…wanted, I guess. I’m new to this city, to this job, I feel like I’ve done nothing but mess things up since I’ve been here. Everyone ignored me. A-Train called me stupid the minute I messed up his coffee order and you…you hated me the minute I walked into the room! I came off so badly that Starlight had to give me pep talks in the bathroom. But I still tried and nothing ever got better. Then after the incident with you, Homelander, I was done.”

She was blubbering now, her feelings all resurfacing with each word she choked out through tears, “I was going to quit. You were right, I was useless and it was embarrassing the people I admired so much thought I was annoying . And then when you had me moved, honestly there was a part of me that only took it because I wanted to prove you wrong. But really I was just trying to find that reassurance that I was capable of something. Anything.”

Homelander sat, his mouth slightly agape at the words that poured from her body. She hugged her legs tightly against her chest as sobs filtered into the night. There was a lot more behind that bright smile then met the eye, that was for sure. His words and attitude were meant to disrupt her, every snide remark or glare was truly from the depths of his irked soul. But hearing their effect didn’t bring him the sanctimonious delight that he wanted. The pressure built on the girl until she was inches from breaking, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

“Wait,” Homelander said, “I didn't have you moved.”

“What?”

He shook his head, leaning his elbows onto his knees as he recalled her words, “I never asked for you to be moved. You thought I would help you get a job? After everything I said?”

She wiped the tears from her face, “I thought you just wanted to get rid of me, honestly.”

He huffed a laugh, “If I wanted to get rid of you then you wouldn’t be around anymore. At all.”

That was true, it wouldn’t have even been questioned if he asked that. But despite how much the girl stirred irritation within him, he never thought to get rid of her before her time. If possible it felt this time he may have actually done the opposite of what he really wanted. He may have pushed too far. The days gone by without her around agitated him more than when she was constantly badgering around the conference room. Not knowing where she was, what she was doing, who she was with, what she was thinking. He wanted to know more. He wanted her around more.

He wanted her.

“I guess I should be grateful then.” She pulled the cape off her shoulder, exposing her back to the night chill once again as she folded it against her lap. Homelander’s eyes dragged down her body without a thought, he had forgotten the jeweled gown that hung off her body. It glittered under the moonlight just like the remaining tears that lay unfallen in her eyelashes, complimenting each other.

“But anyway, you asked why I was up here so there you go.”

That’s right. The reason for the tears. Because someone thought that they could break her down and throw her away as if it were nothing. As if there were no consequences because she was just too nice, too wide eyed. Funny thing about repercussions, you never know where they could come from.

“Who cares what that prick thinks anyway?”

“You think the same thing, “ she let out a breathy laugh, “you might be more alike than you realize.”

Well that was obviously not true, Homelander thought. That asshole was just a guy, nothing like him at all. He was different. That’s what he wanted to say, but for once he mulled over his words before he spoke. He craved this interaction with her, just the two of them, her walls down and open. He couldn’t have her shut him off, not again.

“Listen, I've been a dick, I know. You’re capable, you said it yourself. You’ve already proved it.”

She stopped tracing the finely stitched stripes over the cape to look over at him, her expression showing disbelief at what her ears were hearing. “Wow, that was actually sort of nice, Homelander”

Homelander searched her face for a moment, “call me John.”

“What?” “My name is John” He repeated. He pushed and tested the water further, how far could he get before she pulled away from him again? His hand slowly reached to rest over the vibrant red and white of his cape that lay over her thigh. “You don’t need some asshole to tell you that you’re anything. You’ve got friends at Vought, people like you in your office, you've got friends, and some great ideas you’re working on.”

She stared down at his hand touching her over the layers of fabric between them. How would he know all that? He was never around to see how she interacted and certainly none of her ideas or meetings ever got back to him, why would they? Though despite the implications, his words were strangely but heartwarming.

“You know all that?” She asked, looking back up to meet his gaze. He nodded only to stop abruptly when he realized his slip. He had been watching her, his keen superpowers coming in handy it seemed. If she knew that there was no way she would ever speak to him again, he fucked up even when he was trying not to. But despite his certain thoughts, a small smirk appeared on the girl’s lips. Her hand rounded her side and rested gently over the Supe’s gloved one that still lay gently over her leg. Her fingers slowly wrapped around in a firm squeeze. A friendly gesture that was certainly not expected.

“Thank you,” she spoke. “Listen, I know you have a lot of pressure on you, more than I can imagine. I get why you are the way you are, even if it’s off putting. So, John, want to spill some feelings on me? Seems like a good start to a friendship here.”

For once he liked the way his name sounded on someone else’s lips. On her painted, glossed lips. It made him feel more important than any headline could.

“I dont know if I would go that far,” he laughed authentically for the first time in a long time. A new flush form on the girl’s face. This time not one of embarrassment or sadness.

“You know you’re not so bad when you let people actually have a conversation with you. I actually really liked this, thank you” They sat there for a moment, hands still in each other's grasp, basking in the feeling of whatever new union was between them and all the unspoken thoughts of what it meant or what it didn’t. The only things that were certain was that Homelander wasn’t going to let her far out of his sight from now on and anyone who wronged her would be thoroughly dealt with. One before the end of that very night.

The girl took in a deep breath next to him before standing slowly, her dress cascading down her legs as she let go of Homelander’s hand, “We should get back.”

His eyes watched her as she wiped any makeup that may have smudged out of place and fixed her hair until it sat perfectly at the crown of her head. That sugary scent of her perfume caught in the wind and wafted over him, filling him with craving instead of agitation. But that would have to wait. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

She looked down at him, a smidge of worry wrinkling between her brow, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just want another second before shaking a hundred more hands,” he smiled at her. It was a familiar smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, one that simmered something else behind it. But as he moved to tuck a wayward hair behind her ear, ease filled her veins. Whatever was on his mind was for him alone.

“Fair enough, I don't envy you,” she admitted, sharing a smile back. Though hers much more genuine as she looked over the Supe, “I’ll find you in there later for a picture of my own.”

Homelander listened to her giggle at her own joke as she turned to make her way back towards the staircase to rejoin the party downstairs. They shared one last look over her shoulder until she descended and disappeared below his view. His smile disappeared immediately without her presence. He had one thing to take care of before he could attempt to enjoy any part of his evening with his newly kindled whatever.

There wasn’t a chance he would let someone hurt what was his and he would make sure that was known to anyone that dared.

#Homelander #the boys #the boys fanfic #the boys fan fiction #fanfics #fan fiction #fanfic #homelander fanfiction #homelander fan fic #homelander x reader #homelander x you #writing

3K notes · View notes

lassieposting · 5 months

Text

Screaming incoherently at the new epilogue hug for Astarion bc body language tells us so much here

youtube

The first time you hug him, he goes rigid - he hasn't been hugged in at least 200 years, so he's surprised, and that's definitely part of it, but he also still very much associates being touched with being hurt, either physically or mentally. It takes him a moment to really realise what's happening, and then he gradually relaxes into Tav's hold and when he hugs back, it's hesitant. Emotional. This is a massively love-starved man being given genuine affection for the first time in centuries; he buries his face in Tav's shoulder, if they're tall enough, and when they step back, his face makes it obvious that he didn't want them to let go.

youtube

The epilogue hug is completely different. Tav still has to initiate, but he holds his arms out for them to step into as soon as they move to hug him. He closes his eyes - relaxed, comfortable, a completely different vibe to the first hug's I-am-trying-so-hard-not-to-cry energy. He's smiling when they separate. You can tell that like? He has been cuddled so many times between the first hug and this one, and he's realised that he likes it. There's no fear in it anymore, no wariness. Just love.

Also interesting: that little movement he does, the swaying back and forth. Maybe this is a 'different strokes for different folks' thing but in my experience, that swaying motion is a comfort thing - it's how you'd soothe someone who's upset. For a lot of people, it's likely one of the earliest forms of comfort we ever experience - mothers sway like that with crying babies in their arms - and we learn to comfort others the same way as we get older. Which? This is probably something he's learned from Tav. That would imply that by this point, they've done A Lot of holding him through distress - nightmares, breakdowns, panic attacks, whatever. They've done the comforting sway enough that he's actually internalised that not just as something you do as comfort, but something you do when you hug someone, full-stop. He's learning how to express love by paying attention to Tav's behaviours and mirroring them. I'm ugly sobbing.

#astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 meta #astarion x tav #astarion x durge

76 notes · View notes

who-is-page · 2 years

Text

BEASTPUNK: Being Unabashedly Animal

A subculture/term for anyone who identifies as partially or entirely as a nonhuman creature in an integral or intrinsic way, regardless of the origin or perceived nature of their identity, and who:

Embraces and celebrates their nonhumanity and animality, and (if applicable) the overlap and entanglement between one's human and nonhuman identity

Embraces abnormal instincts and behaviors related to their own and others' nonhumanity, so long as no active harm is done to another non-consenting individual or any real life animal

Interacts with their nonhumanity and displays it in socially unconventional or undesirable ways, and accepts and celebrates others doing so as well

Revels in the history of animal-people and beast-folk in all ways known: from the alterhuman community, from mythology, and from cultural or spiritual backgrounds relevant to the person in question

Throws respectability politics into the dumpster, lights it on fire, and dances around the burning corpse of the god "Cringe" in the moonlight

Is, unabashedly and genuinely, animal

This term is meant to be a reclamation of animalistic nonhuman identity, especially regarding individuals who may experience their nonhumanity in eccentric, "feral," or otherwise socially unacceptable or even stigmatized ways. Beastpunk is also open to endels, clinical lycanthropes, and others who experience nonhumanity in ways related to their mental health and physical bodies, although it is not open to self-identified p-shifters and p-shifter packs. Anyone who's ever been told that their animality is "too much," or that they're taking their identity as a nonhuman creature "too seriously," or who has lost previous words/groups they've used to define themself due to terminological drift, KFF appropriation and re-defining, or others gatekeeping their identity's authenticity is welcome to take up this term. Fictherians and fictional nonhuman creatures are also included in beastpunk, which is meant to be explicitly pro-fictionkin and fiction-based identities; theriomythics, folcintera, and mythkin are also included in beastpunk. Any and all nonhuman creatures, regardless of source or origin, are included.

This term is inspired by Anomalymon's original coining of kinpunk.

🚫 This term is not meant for KFF and other forms of anti-otherkin, anti-fictionkin, and similar. This term is not meant for self-identified "zootherians," "zoosexuals," "zetas," and similar. 🚫

Edit (09/28/22): Because someone asked me to clarify this: KFFers as mentioned in the above are meant to refer to individuals who redefine otherkin and related terms to just mean liking something a lot, rather than identifying as anything. They have roots in Tumblr anti-otherkin communities of the mid-2010's and in meme/fandom culture both, resulting in typically ableist and ahistorical language aimed towards otherkin: claims that otherkin are "taking it too seriously," or "just crazy," that otherkin and therians identities are "just a Tumblr thing," and that 'kins' should be based around fandom ideas of characters and morals.

Arguably, KFF are also largely responsible for the fictionkin community crash of the late 2010's due to their interactions in fictionkin community spaces, muddling of language within, and their insistences on bringing fandom wank in as a gatekeeping cudgel to ostracize others (the most common of such being the idea of what fictotypes are "moral and allowed" versus on what were "problematic and made you an evil person," which inspired no less than three separate OtherCon lectures from 2020-2022.)

#otherkin #therian #fictionkin #alterhuman #punk #beastpunk

839 notes · View notes

oh-snapperss · 12 days

Text

Medusa: The Much Needed Shift from Monster to Survivor in Percy Jackson (2023)

I am posting this on request of a couple folks! This is a part of a much bigger portfolio I submitted to my college mythology course, so if anything seems abrupt or short, that's why. Enjoy!

Reader discretion advised: the analysis below includes non-explicit discussion of sexual assault and rape.

From the beginning of the Percy Jackson series recently released on Disney+, it was clear that many changes were going to be made throughout the series both from the book series it derived from, and the myths Riordan first retold in his books. One of the most remarkable changes to the series can be found in episode three, and stood out with the dialogue below:

Percy: “So you’re not a monster, what are you then?”

Medusa: “A survivor.” (“We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium” 23:22)

The decision to portray Medusa in this light is in stark contrast to any other adaptation involving her. Moments before this, Percy tells Grover and Annabeth that he thinks they can trust her, and that his mother had always told him Medusa’s story with the point “She isn’t what people think,” (21:52). This sets the stage for the following conversation, and the idea that Medusa in the myths may have been misunderstood as just another monster of Greek mythology.

In fact, Medusa’s physical appearance in the series is also markedly different from the original myth. Instead of being “monstrous” with wings, tusks of swine, and hair made of hissing snakes (“Medusa in Mythology”), the actress wears a veil over her hairand eyes, a nice dress, and has perfectly done makeup, with red lipstick. Her appearance brings empowerment to Medusa while also humanizing her, and a sense of fear or apprehension to the watcher. The answer to why these changes were made can be found in the relatability Medusa’s story has for today’s victims of rape and a patriarchal society that is unfair to women who have been assaulted.

Myths of Medusa describe her story without much pity: Either Poseidon rapes her in Athena’s temple or they willingly have sex; Athena, enraged, punishes Medusa by turning her into a monster. Poseidon goes unpunished, as he is a god (“Medusa in Mythology.") However, in current day climates, it is impossible not to draw similarities in Medusa’s story to the way victims are treated often in society. The assaulter goes unpunished, while the victim must live with the emotional, physical, and mental harm of such an attack. In fact, from my personal experience and things I have seen in the tattoo parlor I have gotten tattoos from, some victims have chosen to get tattoos of Medusa as a sign of being a survivor of such an assault. Thus, this brings back the director’s choice to portray Medusa differently in Percy Jackson than before.

Another notable difference in Medusa’s behavior is that she does not immediately attack Percy, Annabeth, and Grover (who would be considered the heroes of the story), instead offering them lunch and her perspective on what happened to her originally. By allowing Medusa the chance to speak her perspective on what happened to her, the directors of the show push for a world where women and victims are able to speak. With the show being watched by many younger teens and children, in addition to adults, an important message is carried to watchers, and her story is handled in a way that any victim watching can hear the message that they are not alone.

The director’s decision to show Medusa in this other light comes to a conclusion with Percy refusing the chance to betray his friends for her (28:03) a few minutes later, and from there the story aligns closer to the myth it derived from. The fight between the heroes and Medusa is not long, ending after Annabeth puts her hat of invisibility on Medusa, and Percy beheads her. Visually, this fight is markedly different to the myth—Medusa’s beheading is done with a hat of invisibility on, so there is no blood or gore shown (31:41). This change can easily be explained by the shows rating of TV-PG, combined with the fact that most likely, Disney would not have wanted such a gore filled scene on their platform.

Overall, the changes to Medusa’s story are headed in a positive direction much needed in the current climate of society, despite not staying exactly true to the source material.

Works Cited

“Medusa in Greek Mythology.” Greek Legends and Myths, https://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/medusa.html. Accessed 20 March 2024.

“We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium.” Percy Jackson and the Olympians, season 1, episode 3, Disney+, December 26, 2023. Disney, https://www.disneyplus.com/play/7a078c8a-2a03-4171-a647-a4f5ed12e738.

#laurie thoughts #percy jackson #medusa #tw sa mention #laurs' academic writing #<-new tag omg

37 notes · View notes

frankiensteinsmonster · 8 months

Text

ID in Alt Text!

Hey, sorry I haven't been doing my daily outfit posts lately-- I guess I never mentioned why I started them, but it's this personal project that I'm working on where I take a picture (though, in all honesty, it's a lot of pictures lol) in whatever I'm wearing and I feature my cane to promote awareness and give representation to other cane users and members of the cpunk and Physically Disabled community. I'm working on building up the courage to take these pictures outside as well, because I do them on campus, but we deserve to see ourselves outside as well!

The reason I haven't been keeping up with it is because my partner and I have really been really struggling financially as well as with our mental health (and me with my physical health as well, obviously lol) we moved across the country to go to school and it is So Hard-- I had to drop three out of five of my classes because the course work was just too much in volume and I need a job really bad (which is going to be Hard to do since we don't even know why I'm in such chronic pain yet 🙃 it's hard not to feel defeated!)

Either way, I think going to start posting them with the tag #TheVainCanes and #MobilityAidVainity but I'm also going to host a poll for some options bc I want this to be a widespread community thing!

I'm choosing these names because I've seen from both ableds and disabled elitists this idea that we and our mobility aides need to look like they're fresh out the hospital for us to be Believed and deserving of respect, and anything beyond that voids our suffering and invalidates our experiences-- and I think that's reductive, harmful, and just plain wrong! Our mobility aides are an extension of ourselves and we deserve to dress them up however we want. We deserve representation, and the normalization of Joy and Having Personality While Disabled.

This will be intersectional as well (bc. I mean look at me. Also I don't need a reason!) , people from all identities are welcomed and encouraged to join! This is meant to be a celebration of Us, Disabled, BIPOC, LGBTQIA2S+, and All That Jazz! (If you use a mobility aid, you're in!) We're beautiful gorgeous handsome devils and I think we'd do good seeing how good we all look in a designated tag

Also my cash app and Venmo are @/cherubpunque 👀 if anyone has some spare change I could have that would be an amazing help towards feeding me, my partner, and our two cats!!

To kick things off, I am a 2S, Afroindigenous person (Gullah and Kanien'kehá:ka!) who experiences chronic pain and fatigue. I have PTSD and a few other brain things going on, less than perfect eyesight, and a great passion for Art, Music, Subculture, and Helping Others whenever and however I can! I'm majoring in art and am working towards becoming a published graphic novelist. Idk I just have a lot of love and support to give, and a big need for love and support for myself as well, and I'm hoping to offer us a good opportunity for us to connect in a space that's just for us! We're already living outside of society's expectations for health, so why should we let these folks decide the way we look while doing it? Express yourself! (I'll also be tagging myself in future as #mothie so you can find me in the tags! Anyways, I gotta go lay down. My back hurts.)

113 notes · View notes

shadowbends · 1 year

Text

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS)

It’s me again, folks. Do you enjoy good fanfic? We’re reaching the end of the line, but I’m here to hook you up! Whether you’re new to the fandom and diving into the ROTTMNT fic scene for the first time, or a veteran looking for content you might have missed, my hope for this project is to point you to something you’ll enjoy!

This rec list is the last of three and focuses on longfic in the fandom, with a word count reaching anywhere over 15,000 words. You’ll find a variety of fic here, from novellas to full-blown novels—some complete, but many still ongoing! Though it may be heresy on the streets of New York, this is the list you want when you’re craving something really thick to sink your teeth into: a sit-down experience exploding with flavor. Don’t have time for that, actually? Then consider checking out my previous rec lists as well!

NEW YORK STYLE, BABY!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (UNDER 5,000 WORDS)

STUFFED CRUST!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (BETWEEN 5,000 AND 15,000 WORDS)

DEEP DISH!! ROTTMNT FANFIC RECS (OVER 15,000 WORDS) — You’re here!

If you enjoy any of these fics, make sure to reblog and spread the love! Don’t forget to check out the other works by these authors; many of them have written multiple wonderful stories not featured here that are just as good. Additionally, consider leaving the authors a comment! I’m not always the best at that myself, but fic writers work hard and deserve all the love in the world.

With all of that said, it’s time for the recs. Let’s dig in!

Quick note: On previous lists, I separated the recs by the general time period they took place in. I’m not going to that here, largely because—uh. Well. Nearly all of them are post-movie! This fandom’s sure been active in the last couple of months, huh? Given that, I’ll be sorting them by a broader method, but yes. If you’ve not seen the movie, this is your warning that spoilers abound in the recs below.

➤ ➤ ➤ CANON COMPLIANT

The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose

57,262 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)

Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort

It would’ve been easier to say what he was feeling, but he honestly didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure why, either. He knew his brothers would understand and comfort him and be there if he wanted them to be. Hell, Donnie’s surprise sleepover and everyone showing up for it in the living room had been proof of that.

Yet he still couldn’t do it. He’d tried to talk to Donnie and the pain on his brother’s face had been enough to make him never want to speak about things ever again. He didn’t want them to hurt the way he did; he wanted them to be okay and normal and happy.

You know they aren’t happy. Why do you keep pretending to be fine when the others aren’t either?

Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face into his knees as he pulled himself into an even tighter ball. He wanted to go into his shell as much as possible, but at the same time, a searing energy was making his legs feel like he could run or swim for miles. He could just go and go and go until he collapsed.

Maybe… maybe that'll help.

Set a few months after the movie, Leo struggles with the long recovery time needed for his injuries to heal, both physical and mental. Unable to talk about it, he turns to unhealthy coping methods instead. The rest of the family is doing no better from the fallout of the invasion, however, with each of their own stresses mounting the longer things go unaddressed. That is until Chapter 8, when things come to a head...

There are a lot of post-movie recovery fics out there, each one unique. The Aftermath’s hallmark has to be in its slowburn foreshadowing, and excellent character writing. Throughout many chapters, we get a glimpse into the heads of just about every beloved character the series has to offer, including April and Casey Jr. Little clues to what’s going to go wrong are set up early on, but just like the characters, I was blind to how serious of a turn things were about to take until the problem finally reared its head. This fic does a good job of showing how important it is to talk to one another, even if it’s hard.

Aftershocks by Katiemonz, McBethins, octolingkiera, theashemarie, and this_kills_the_man

153,543 words, 12/15 chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Family Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

“Good game,” Leo said to Donnie, smiling at Mikey in the same sly way as before.

“Thank you, Leonardo, but as I’ve said Uno is—”

“But you still lost,” Leo continued. He swept the cards up and began to straighten them for another shuffle.

“Second place is hardly—”

“Honorary title,” Leo cut in again. “Mikey won, so we owe him.”

“Owe him what? I have—”

“Keep your money, Don. In this game we’re dealing in secrets.”

“Secrets.”

“Yeah, specifically what’s up in that brilliant, big head of yours after all that Krang shit. C’mon. You owe him one secret.”

Picking up from the end of the invasion but spanning the weeks after, the day’s been won, but no one came out of the Krang’s attack completely unscathed. There’s a lot of trauma to unpack here—unfortunately, talking about it is the last thing just about anyone in the family wants to do.

Another recovery fic, Aftershocks is unique for being a story told from five perspectives (the boys and April), as written by five different authors. As the brothers avoid each other, each arc’s events end up having quite the different take depending on whose POV you’re currently following, even in moments where the same scene is being retold. Truly an ensemble fic that focuses on everyone’s trauma, I’ve especially enjoyed that April was included. As the longest fic on this list, Aftershocks is heavy on introspection and exposition, but the characterization always manages to shine through in the details. I especially love the scene I quoted above; “Trauma Uno” is totally a concept I could see the boys coming up with.

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx

47,202 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Ensemble

Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Crossover

"I need to find my brothers," Raph mumbles. "That's if they're even here."

"And then head back to the spirit world."

"It's not the spirit world!"

"Right," Toph grins. "This so-called 'other dimension' without benders."

"There are no benders in my world."

Toph reaches and places a hand on scaled skin. Huge muscles twitch under her palm and the spirit stops. "No benders?"

"Yes!"

She nods. "Like the spirit world."

Raph throws his arms up with a scream and Toph cackles.

For a crossover, this fic requires quite a bit of investment in the second fandom to follow; you’ll want to have seen all of ATLA Season 1, and potentially even Season 2 if you want to keep track of what’s going on, especially for moments when episodes are retold, but with the turtles added in. Additionally, the POV is solely with the ATLA characters. Is this fic worth recommending despite that? Abso-freaking-lutely. This might be one of the most creative crossovers I’ve seen in any fandom, and I’m absolutely hooked.

The plot is deceptively straightforward—the four turtles mysteriously appear in the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender, separated and with no idea where the brothers are. Their arrival changes everything, with the people of the world seeing them as powerful spirits and guardians. I won’t spoil who ends up with who beyond what’s shown in the excerpt, but it paves the way for fascinating political intrigue and character development on all sides, our fave turtles included. Donatello’s position is perhaps the most fascinating for what may come of it, but everyone’s new groupings have been an utter delight. The banter feels charming and wholly in-character, and I can’t wait to read more. This is definitely a fic to keep your eye on, if you’ve not found it already.

Brother Dearest by Wardenov

69,666 words, 22/? chapters (last updated 11/03/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Donnie-centric)

Genre: Drama, Sci-Fi, Horror

“You came here looking for answers, weakling, because you messed with powers far beyond your understanding.” “I’m not-” She doesn’t let him continue. “Our brother may be dead, but the glory of our kind is that we are never truly defeated, not as long as our mark remains.” And as if to make her point, she raises a tentacle and delicately touches the glass - tendrils spawning from the point of contact, rapidly expanding across the surface like a frenzied contagion before freezing in place and crumbling under the extreme cold. “We cull the weak and assimilate those worthy, we bestow the blessing of Krang upon those who deserve it. You-” she spits, remaining tentacles scrambling to climb the glass where Donnie stood, “-you have stolen our gift.”

He says nothing.

“But,” she continues, sadistic smile returning, “your transgressions have ensured our survival. Our continued conquest. Whether you like it or not.”

Set a few months after the Krang’s invasion, things have seemingly gone back to normal for the Hamato family. Everyone’s doing their best to get by, and back to familiar routines and hobbies. Donnie, though? His newest project throws all of that into new chaos, showing that no matter how well-meaning, there are some things man (and turtle) was never meant to tamper with.

I’m absolutely feral for this fic, and desperate to impress upon anyone seeing this why they should read it. It might be one of the very best fics the fandom has to offer. Seriously. You want plot and worldbuilding on par with the Season 3 we never got? Exploration of the Hidden City, and the Council of Heads that run it? High stakes, suspense, action, and family drama? Look no further, fam. Brother Dearest has it all, and every character (even Mayhem!) has a big role to play. April’s sleuthing, Mikey further develops his new mystic powers, Leo has some heavy choices to make as leader, and Raph isn’t as home free after the Krang invasion as he thought. Make no mistake, though, the star of this show is Donnie in his unwitting supervillain arc. Will his family be able to save him from himself? Only time and new chapters can tell, but this fic dug its claws into my heart and won’t let go, it’s so good.

Drift and Chemical Reaction by Bronte

26,949 words, 7/7 chapters (split between two fics)

Character Focus: Donatello & Leonardo, Ensemble

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding

"Piña colada?"

"What the—?" Donnie cuts him off before he can finish, cramming a green and yellow striped straw between his teeth. Leo wears some of it, the yellow, smoothie-like drink dribbling down his plastron. "Wait, where did you—what is this?"

Donnie smirks. "Pineapple, coconut, rum. A taste of the tropics."

Leo blinks and glances down apprehensively at the ‘Better Late than Ugly’ mug in his hand. "...does this have alcohol in it?"

"Does this have—pfft, I would never. Do you know who I am? Donatello, upstanding citizen of Manhattan proper?" Donnie barks a laugh, tossing his head back before leveling him with a look. "Of course there is. As the Bard himself said, self-love, my brother, is not so vile a sin as self-neglect."

As two sides of the same story, these fics are being recommended together! Set after the movie, Drift is told from Leonardo’s POV, both during and after leaving the prison dimension, where Chemical Reaction tells the story from Donatello’s POV.

The real charm of this fic, though? It has to be the banter. Reading this, I could totally hear the character’s voices in my head, which was only made better once the piña coladas came in. You think the twins are disasters; just wait until they’re drunk. These fics would be worth reccing on their own for that scene alone, but there’s actually a little bit of plot involved as well as Leo struggles to regain his ninpo, while Donnie... Well, something weird is going on with Donnie. Needless to say, both of these are a great read!

Every Night the Longest Day by ashtreelane

33,731 words, 13/? chapters (last updated 10/27/2022)

Character Focus: Leonardo & Family

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Medical Drama

“What’s wrong, Leo?” Raph asks from where he is curled around him, the snapper’s chin nestled on the top of his head.

“Can’t sleep,” Leo mutters. He smells worry, sudden and sharp, and when he opens his eyes Raph has whipped around to look at Donnie, eyes blown wide, looking for an answer. Donnie is looking at him too, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“We- okay. Raph, don't freak out. This is to be expected, remember?” Donnie is saying, his voice just barely on the wrong side of too calm. He’s freaking out too. Why? What’s happening? Oh, he’s being addressed now, he should probably pay attention.

“Leo, you were cursed six days ago to be unable to fall asleep. Your memory is suffering because of it, but we’re all right here, okay?”

Leo kind of knows what they’re talking about. He remembers it, he remembers that it happened, but the… events are… foggy. What- what had they been talking about?

“What are we talking about?”

When Leo is cursed to be unable to sleep, he and the family must wait for a new moon to break the spell through a ritual. Unfortunately, that new moon is nearly two weeks off. As Leo is forced to stay awake for days on end, his mental and physical condition quickly begins to deteriorate. Through it all, Leo’s family stays by his side to help him through it, beautifully balancing hurt with comfort through the beginning. As the story goes on and Leo’s condition worsens, though... Well. Things aren’t looking good, let’s say.

I have such a soft spot for this fic, though. It’s grown quite popular lately, so many of you reading this list may have already heard it, but there was a point when I was following early on where the author was debating shifting the POV around or sticking with Leo as an unreliable narrator. I was really proud of them for sticking to their guns and going with the latter, and I think it’s paid off in spades. The way the author experiments with formatting styles and missing scenes really makes the fic stand apart from the standard whump setup, and turns it into something akin to low-key psychological horror. If you’re into that sort of thing it’s a lot of fun; even if you’re not, the moments of family bonding peppered throughout the fic are so wholesome, and definitely worth your time.

Fallout by GauntletKnight

50,677 words, 20/? chapters (last updated 11/05/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama

“We are here. We are alive. Raph and Mikey are downstairs. Dad and April and Casey are on the way. You’re alright, Leo. You’re safe. We are all safe. No one is here to hurt you…or us.” There is no special inflection to his voice, but his words are firm, unmoving. Leo shakes for a moment, squeezing Donnie’s hand…and then he blinks, his eyes clear and he tries to take a breath.

Violent coughs wrack his body as he tries to dislodge the blood that had built up from his sobs. Bright red spatters down his front and across Donnie’s hands as he holds onto Leo’s arm. Each breath is like nails on a chalkboard.

Draxum steps in instantly, checking the monitor for vitals. “I’ve gotta get to that punctured lung…or else getting this blood transfusion in him isn’t going to do anything.” He turns to Donnie, holding out plastic gloves, “Can you-”

Leo shakes his head, finally getting a rattling breath into his chest. “N-no…Don’s…not great with this kind of thing. S’ok…he’s so good at everything else he had to leave some for the rest of us.” He smiles up at Donnie like Donnie hung the damn moon and stars, his eyes still shining with painful tears. It’s…a weirdly genuine moment between the two of them…

Donnie doesn’t like it.

Set between the final fight and grabbing a slice in the movie, this fic follows the immediate aftermath of pulling Leo out of the prison dimension with a bit more urgency and attention to everyone’s injuries.

As I’ve said before, every movie recovery fic I’ve found has their hallmark, and I’d say Fallout’s is its heart and emotion. By focusing on the aftermath of the battle where everyone’s stresses are still running high, there’s a lot going on here, and it makes for some tense, but evocative moments. The story is lightly focused on Leo’s mental state especially, but everyone is going through it and as the POV shifts every chapter, each character gets some focus as they work through their injuries and messy feelings. Fallout is very satisfying read, and one I often come back to over and over.

hamartia by Punable

40,364 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 10/30/2022)

Character Focus: Donatello & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

It felt nothing like how he imagined dying would feel.

Donatello was a man of science, so it would have been foolish of him to have not, over the years, devised theories around what results certain situations would generate, what or who they might take out of commission, and what he would need to do personally in order to gain the best possible outcome. He would sometimes note down how he believed these situations might affect him or his brothers, both physically or mentally - he wasn’t an expert on emotions, far from it, but he could at least logically assume that getting, say, struck by lightning (one of his planned-for possibilities) would leave its own traumatic scar on any man or turtle that happened to experience it, so he’d dragged in April for those certain emotional areas and promptly abandoned her as a research partner when she’d told him he was being obsessive. He was not obsessive, just thorough.

He couldn’t help but feel as though some of that research time may have been wasted, though, as he lay on his side, his newest project slash rework shattered into almost unsalvageable pieces on the floor across from him. (And really, that felt almost like the harshest blow - how was anyone except him supposed to salvage that hunk of junk? Was that all that he was leaving behind?)

He felt it had been time wasted, maybe, because dying didn’t feel at all like the soft, slowing breaths of passing peacefully into sleep, or the fast tight gasping of someone going out from a bullet wound. If anything, it felt like he was breathing too deeply, every breath filling his whole body and stretching out every wound and puncture and fracture, oxygen making his head light (or maybe that was the blood loss). He didn’t feel at peace, and he certainly didn’t feel as scared as he thought he should’ve been, as he had read he should have been.

Mostly, it just felt like an inconvenience.

Donnie almost dies, and that’s just the start of this angsty tale. What follows is an interesting exploration of what Donatello thinks of himself and his role in the team, and his family’s growing concerns when he won’t give himself time to recover. Donnie’s brush with death has lasting consequences, and a large part of the fic is dedicated both to how much they affect him and how long he can hide it from his family (and the audience). Once the truth comes out, though? Oof.

The newfound disability is handled well, imo, and you really feel for everyone involved. There’s a lot about mental health that the author just does really well in general, actually. The focus on family and everyone’s concerns for their brother is where this fic really shines, though, and there’s a lot of emotion that hits just right. Basically, the hurt is done so well, I’m looking forward to when we get to more comfort.

i go there with you by bobtheacorn

21,649 words, 15/? chapters (last updated 11/04/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor

"But seriously," Donnie says seriously, brandishing his tablet screen above Mikey's head and pointing at it, "I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you be Very Honest when I ask you to scale your pain using this -" He cuts his eyes toward Raph, who grins. "Emoji Scale. Which dramatization would you say you find the most relatable at the moment?"

"Okay, so defo… this guy," Leo says. He thinks he manages to lift his finger but that's all the juice he's got. "On the… left."

"That would be the thumbs-up emoji, Leo," Raph says cautiously.

"Awww," Mikey gushes, "Is that one because you love us?"

"Hang on," Leo says around another small huff of maybe-laughter, "You… can't prove anything. But also…" He moves his finger again. "Also this guy on the… on the far r-right. Like, for-real for real."

"Oh, the sad-angry-crying emoji, fantastic," Donnie says with a bit more pep, tossing the tablet and turning to Splinter, who's closest to the monitor, "Papa, would you do Leo a huge favor and smash that morphine button, please? Like, right now, immediately."

Set immediately after the invasion. This fic is a series of interconnected one-shots originally written for Whumptober, but by Chapter 9 breaks into its own thing. The whump remains a focus, but it’s tempered by a good dose of comfort and humor as well, which the author is a master of.

If you want a recovery fic after the events of the movie that matches the feeling of the show, i go there with you is the fic to start with. The characterization and banter are spot on, as is the emotional whiplash. All of the characters gets some love and introspection in this one too, which is always fun.

Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! by WayWardWatson

56,238 words, 9/? chapters (last updated 11/06/2022)

Character Focus: Splinter & Family

Genre: Family Bonding, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Splinter turned his attention back to Big Mama, the flirtatious mood from earlier dissipating. “I am calling in your favor.”

It was like he had slapped her with his rat tail with how she reared back in visible disgust. Her fangs clicked in irritation and she scuttled further down, closer to where Splinter was standing. “Remind me, when have I ever owed you a measly-weasly favor?”

“When you misused demon armor for profit that nearly resulted in the end of human and yokai kind alike?” Splinter evenly said. “Oh, and the time I rubbed your feet, all eight of them, when you were on bedrest.”

“I thought that was an act of love.”

“Kindness.” He corrected because his heart hurt too much when she said love. “I was being kind. Though, if you want,” Again, his voice dipped into a purr, splaying out his arms wide in open invitation. “You could be kind enough to give me and my family a free round trip to Japan? I know you can do it.”

More scuttling as a low hiss escaped her maw. “That is a big, dimbly favor to ask.”

“I thought we were calling those acts of lo- kindness?”

“Why,” She drew the word out as she finally reached the bottom and pressed her broach. Suddenly, a swirl of light engulfed Big Mama and, with a whoosh of mystic energy that smelt like nutmeg, he watched as her stature began to diminish. Just as quickly, the light fractured and then separated into small motes of bioluminescent dust, casting a dim, golden glow around them. Now in human form, Big Mama stepped in close enough to touch. “Do you want to go to Japan?”

Without thinking, Splinter’s eyes trailed down then up and he swallowed. His heart was beginning to pick up, but certainly not from fear. He took a moment to gather himself. “My children need a vacation.”

Splinter takes one look at the S2 finale and the movie and decides that’s it, this family needs a break. Deals are made, mystic disguise brooches are acquired, itineraries are made, and with that, the family (including April!) are off on an exciting vacation to Japan! As with all scenarios involving the Hamato Clan, however, nothing goes so simply.

You’re getting so much bang for your buck picking up this fic. A family trip to Japan is charming in and of itself—and the author has done so much research on the country that some passages feels like taking a tour of your own—but this fic actually has a lot going on for it. How they even get to Japan involves some fun mystic worldbuilding, and the cloaking brooches open the door to interesting commentary on body dysphoria. And of course, things take quite a turn when the fam runs into a figure from Splinter’s past who has questions he struggles to answer. A refreshing story with creative ideas, Now That’s What I Call A Vacation! also has an excellent grasp on all of the characters, in and out of vacation mode. It’s a darling read.

odd man out by cosmocrow

22,676 words, 4/? chapters (last updated 10/29/2022)

Character Focus: Future Leonardo & Leonardo, Future Leonardo & Casey, The Hamato Family

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Family Drama

“Master Splinter,” he greets, almost impressed by the fact that his voice isn’t wavering like he feared it would. “I’m sorry for barging in– like. Barging into your timeline? I– I can explain.” He really can’t, but that isn’t the point.

Splinter only raises a hand. “Don’t worry, Casey has brought us up to speed.” He turns to deposit the tray onto a cart, before folding his hands into the sleeve of his robe. Leonardo can feel those yellow eyes look him up and down as he straightens up again. Splinter takes a step closer, craning his short neck to be able to look Leonardo in the face. Melancholy dances on his features, but the rat smiles nonetheless.

“Look at you, you’ve gotten so tall, Leonardo.” The soft usage of his name almost makes Leonardo stumble. He hasn’t heard it from his father’s mouth in a long, long time. A familiar burn starts to prickle within his eyes, so he starts blinking in order to quell the itch, pressing his lips together, so his mouth won’t wobble. He isn’t sure why he’s trying – he knows that Splinter knows.

His father always knew everything.

Splinter steps even closer, lifting a hand from within the confines of his sleeves. Like a magnet, Leonardo bends down, so his dad can cup the side of his face. Gently, the old rat rubs his thumb into his cheek, just below his mask, over his red markings. Splinter’s sad little smile falls, and he tugs down the blue mask over Leonardo’s face.

“But,” he says softly, “you look so tired, my son.”

Several months after the movie’s conclusion, a familiar face from Casey’s averted bad future appears, just as everyone else is startling to settle back in. Predictably, this throws everything into confusion.

Tl;dr, Future Leonardo is sent back into the past and has to adjust back to a world sans apocalypse, and the family takes him in with open arms. Things between him and younger Leo are a lot more tenuous, but there’s a resolution early on that feels very true to their personalities—one less sure of himself, and the other who’s learned his lessons the hard way—that resonated strongly with me and made me fall in love with the story. Add to that some genuinely heartwarming moments with the family bonding, and you’re in for a good, if bittersweet time.

Recoil by unorthodoxx

63,236 words, 10/10 chapters

Character Focus: Ensemble

Genre: Action, Team Bonding, Angst, Crossover

“Hey guys,” he yells. “You might want to see this.”

It doesn’t take long for the three of them to spill into his lab. Leo comes in first and drapes himself across the back of Donnie’s chair. “What’s up? You find the secret ingredient to Luenzo’s Pizza yet?”

“No,” Donnie scowls. “They’re locked down tighter than Fort Knox, but it’ll fall soon. They always do. No fellas,” He enlarges the email, “We’ve been invited to a meet-up of sorts.”

Raph’s hand settles heavily on his shoulder as the larger turtle leans in to read. “Dear Genius Built…….Talk about…….agree to meet…..love…”

“IRONMAN!!?!?” Mikey shouts. “THE Ironman wants to meet us!”

“Wow,” Raph whistles. “The Avengers. That’s some top-level hero stuff.”

ROTTMNT crosses over with the MCU! Set in a world where both universes exist in the same setting, this fic takes place after the Krang Invasion, but fairly into the MCU’s history, long before the superheroes have their falling out. So long as you have any familiarity with the first Avengers movie, you’ll be able to follow the story fine, as it’s straightforward: the appearance of the Krang was as abrupt as their defeat, and Tony Stark can’t let sleeping dogs lie. After uncovering the turtles’ involvement, an in-person meeting is arranged to handle the fate of the Krang Key.

Most of this fic is just a fun excuse to let the ROTTMNT characters bounce off the MCU characters, and it’s fun to see who gets along and who doesn’t. That’s the thing I love in particular about this story—the author is true enough to their characterization that not everyone is friends by the end, in a way that makes whole sense. The Avengers are disasters themselves, after all. The plot of handling the key is done exceptionally well too, and there’s a lot of high octane action at the end that’s quite thrilling. If you’re looking for a good time, you’ll fine it in Recoil, and if you enjoyed it, there’s more where that came from! The author has planned out several other stories set later on in the same series, the first of which (where the turtles meet Spiderman) is already out. So keep an eye on that!

this kind of weather by ihaveathingforpink

21,526 words, 2/4 chapters (last updated 09/18/2022)

Character Focus: Leonardo & Michelangelo, Raphael & Donatello, Ensemble

Genre: Action, Hurt/Comfort, Crossover

“Well, if it is business you seek, Krang has a proposition for you. There are two turtles Krang wishes for you to…remove from the board as their tenacity has proven to be as obstructive as it is predictable. For our plans to proceed, it’s too dangerous for either to remain alive.”

Takeshi takes another sip before asking, “Turtles? As in the ninja turtles that reside beneath the city, whom everyone pretends doesn’t exist? The people of New York won’t be pleased if I do anything to harm their heroes.”

“Oh, I want you to do more than simply harm them. First, they need to suffer.”

“Suffering costs extra. I don’t do anything for free.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Yet you said two turtles when, last I checked, there’s four.”

“Ah, yes. They are of little concern to me. Krang only need you to get rid of two, and you must follow Krang's instructions precisely. Otherwise, you will fail. First, you will need to get rid of the little orange one; he may not look like much, but he’s one of the strongest mystic warriors of all time. I suggest you handle this one quickly—he can be quite slippery—but the blue one, Krang implores you to take your time.”

This story has one helluva hook. A surviving Krang puts a hit out on Mikey and Leo, and saying more than that would unfortunately spoil the twist of the first chapter. With just two chapters, though, this story is fascinating and deserves a lot more attention than it’s gotten. It has high stakes, great action, and is an emotional roller coaster that doesn’t let up. It’s also a bit of a crossover, though longstanding fans of the TMNT franchise will recognize these faces right away. That’s right, this is a crossover with Usagi Yojimbo! Besides characters of that series, though, there’s also a lot of familiar faces from previous TMNT series that Rise never got enough time to tackle, like Tiger Claw and Renet.

You can probably guess from the latter’s name that things are about to get timey-wimey up in here, and you’d be correct. There’s an absolutely killer plot at work here, emphasis on the killer, and whether they want to or not the turtles have to take a divide and conquer approach to it while at one of their lowest points. Seriously, check this one out.

Under Pressure by ParvumAutmaton

21,560 words, 4/4 chapters

Character Focus: The Boys & April

Genre: Suspense, Angst

“You know April, right?” The voice on the other end of the line asked. “You’re one of her gamer friends?”

Donnie blinked. The voice sounded familiar but that didn’t help him at the unholy hour where way too late morphed into way too early.

“And you are?”

“Her mother. Please, did she spend the night at your place?”

“No, she did not,” Donnie answered, forcing himself upright, his exhaustion evaporating with that question. “I believe she was planning on some extracurricular club activity yesterday afternoon. So we weren’t planning on seeing her.”

“I don’t suppose you know which club?”

“No, I do not.”

“Ok,” The waver Donnie heard in her voice implied that it wasn’t. “You will let me know if April gets in touch?”

“Of course Ms. O’Neil.”

The call ended.

Donnie stared at his phone.

One of the few fics on this list not set after the movie, this story takes place after the S2 finale on a dismal day when April goes missing. Investigating her disappearance leads the boys to a van and a lake, and an exploration on the dangers of cave diving.

As you can guess from that description, this fic has quite the creative setup that’s both atmospheric and suspenseful. Be sure to heed the tags because it does get dark, but it’s still a great read, and the turtles’ determination to find their sister pulls at the heartstrings.

➤ ➤ ➤ CANON DIVERGENT

big sister by Darth_Sunny

18,090 words, 6/? chapters (last updated 10/24/2022)

Character Focus: April & Family

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

April O’Neil wasn’t an only child anymore. She had four younger brothers, whom she loved with all her heart, and who she’d burned the world down for if anything were to happen to them. She’d fight every ancient mystic evil the world would throw at her if it meant keeping them safe. And if she couldn’t be there for them at the moment, she’d be there for them in the aftermath. She was their big sister, their oldest and only sister. : was the self-proclaimed protector, but even he needed someone to protect him and to help protect their younger brothers.

So that’s why, when she watched the portal close up, slicing the Technodrome in half, stopping the Kraang for good, knowing that he was trapped back in that prison dimension, April O’Neil felt her heart break into hundreds, thousands, millions of little pieces.

This one’s a fic following April’s perspective on the end of the invasion, from Leo’s sacrifice, to picking up Casey, and reuniting with the boys. It mostly follows canon, but there is a fairly major change revealed partway through that makes it canon divergent from the movie’s ending. It’s unclear if other changes will follow, but just in case it’s being slotted in the canon divergent category all the same.

That’s not the focus, though. No, this fic is centered squarely on April and her relationship with the rest of the Hamato Clan. I love that it impresses how much April is a part of the family, and that the boys aren’t just her friends but her brothers, and that their pain is her pain. Watching the aftermath of the invasion unfold from her perspective is a fresh and evocative take.

Like Father Like Son by eternalglitch

132,982 words, 25/? chapters (last updated 11/02/2022)

Character Focus: Everyone (Leo-centric)

Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort

“Here, Boss!” Huginn darted back across the room, wings straining, as he carried a very… familiar…

“Uh, wait up, no,” Leo said, eyeing the blue object as Huginn dropped it into Draxum’s waiting hand. “Do you even know where that thing’s been? Have you properly washed it at least?”

Draxum’s roots suddenly shift, dragging Leo upright until he’s forced to stand on his tip-toes to have any sort of purchase. “I happened to have had it offered to me by the mutant that you call Meat Sweats,” Draxum said, admiring the collar (for that’s what it actually was, even if Leo had never called it that when it was just a gift from his brother) in the light. “He was quite helpful once I mentioned what I wanted to use it for.” Draxum started to approach, the collar held aloft.

“So, what,” Leo bit out. “You’re gonna stop me from saying my one-liners? Big whoop.”

“I think you’ll find,” Draxum coolly said. “That this has been modified to do so much more than that.”

This fic needs no introduction. In fact, there’s a high chance some of you heard of LFLS before they even saw Rise; I’ve heard of people who only watched the show just so they could read it! It’s the most popular fic in the fandom for a reason. If that’s scared you off, though, or if you’ve avoided it for other reasons, let me tell you why you should give it a chance.

The fic takes some of Rise’s best villains and settings, and explores the darker sides of them (do heed the warnings in the tags). Leo goes through the absolute wringer, but the effect his disappearance has on his family plays a central part of the story as well, with all of the brothers getting full blown introspection and character arcs. Donnie’s in particular hurts me. The emotions are high and the plot is juicy, with some of the tightest writing the fandom has to offer, including intelligent plans and dialogue. As far as hurt/comfort goes, this is definitely a slow burn with a lot of angst, but the author has promised a happy ending. Between that and consistent updates (it’s been going strong for two years), what more could you ask for?

Three Days to Live by Werepirechick

93,992 words, 13/13 chapters

Character Focus: April & The Boys

Genre: Cyberpunk, Action, Human AU

The heiress and former target lowers her hands, keeping them placidly by her sides. “K-tech is a vicious, unrelenting company,” she says, glasses gleaming in the room’s light as she lifts her chin in defiance. “The people who run it are the same. They don’t let people get away, and they don’t leave loose ends. You were all on their shit list as much as I am, the second you signed on.”

Leo shifts his stance, tightening his grip on his gun. “So what are you proposing?” he asks coolly.

“Like y’all said. I’m the heiress to the company. In three days I’m going to walk into a courtroom, sign the papers that frees K-tech from the control of my guardian, and walk out the richest, most powerful person in North America.” O’Neil smiles bitterly. “That is, if I can survive the next seventy-two hours. That’s where you come in.”

“You want us to guard you,” Raph states.

Ohhh, this fic is an absolute gem. You can’t say no to a good Human AU in this fandom to start, but to top it off with a cyberpunk twist? Trust me, this is a match made in heaven. The plot kicks off when the boys—hitmen in this universe—are hired to take out April O’Neil, an heiress to one of the world’s largest tech companies. When things take a turn, she makes them a deal: protect her for three days instead, and she’ll make them rich beyond their wildest dreams.

The plot that follows is filled with danger, intrigue, and high octane action. The world is incredibly thought out and immersive, and makes for a great way to work ROTTMNT’s mystic powers into a new genre. The banter, though. If you’ve read any of Werepirechick’s other fics, you’d know that’s their specialty, and it’s no different here in Three Days to Live. While on the run from the powers seeking to destroy her, the boys and April bond and their friendship is perfection. The series also blends in characters from other iterations of the franchise, but it’s not too distracting, and for the most part remains firmly rooted in the Rise style. Do yourself a favor, and give this one a read!

Posted: 11/06/2022

#rottmnt #rottmnt fic #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfic recs #the fics got longer #thus so did my commentary

433 notes · View notes

thenightfolknetwork · 3 months

Note

Due to a combination of bad genes and bad luck, I suffer from various physical and mental difficulties and pains. Technically I count as disabled, but the term has never felt right for me; it doesn't FEEL like the problem is in my body and brain, even though I know it is, it feels more like the world rearranges itself to be just a bit harder for me than for other people. This isn't something I've talked about much, it's always seemed like it would be horribly rude, plus I have more important issues to work on with my therapist than "how much a particular word does or does not match how I parse my subjective experience".

Then I came across an expression, and for the first time, something felt like it fit. "Cursed by a wizard". It's not that I lose energy quickly, it's that I've been cursed with fatigue; to give one example. I know it's not literally true. Even aside from my diagnoses and symptoms and treatments, a year or so back I got screened as part of a workplace health and safety initiative, and no curses. Still, it's not like the language we use is literally true all of the time; expressions exist for a reason.

You know how it is, whenever you find something cool and new, you want to share it with everyone. Nobody else cared as much as I did, of course, but general reactions were polite, "I'm glad you've found something that works for you". Except for one person, who immediately got a Look on her face -- the kind you get when a foreigner says a word they don't know is a slur over here, or when someone bad-mouths a person they don't realize is nearby -- and changed the subject.

I'm not going to change how I think about myself. "Cursed by a wizard" is a useful mental framework. However, my question is whether it should stay solely within my own mind. I'm worried now that it might be insensitive to people who've actually been cursed, or to wizards.

Thank you for getting in touch, reader. I have one small point to make regarding the start of your letter, particularly regarding the word “disabled”.

To be clear, you are absolutely entitled to your own personal relationship with the term, and I don't mean to suggest that you need to adopt it if you don't feel it reflects your experience. However, I don't agree that “the problem” is in your body and brain. It is, as you say, in the way the world is arranged to make life that much more difficult for you.

A framing I have seen from some disability activists is to speak of themselves as disabled by society, rather than by their condition. They don't consider disability to be a trait in and of itself, but a condition put upon them by an ableist society.

I don't know if this framing is a helpful one for you personally, and as I said, I don't wish to tell you how you “ought” to describe yourself. But I wanted to mention it as a possible alternative way of thinking, in case it proves useful to you.

But that, I know, was not the point of your letter. Unfortunately, reader, I don't have a clear cut answer for you. People who have been cursed are not a uniform group – neither their experiences, nor the way they speak about those experiences, are identical.

The fact is, yes, some people will be offended by your use of “the wizard's curse” to describe your experiences. Others will find it an expressive, even entertaining way of viewing your situation.

You also run the risk that some people will simply not understand the metaphorical nature of your statement, so please be prepared for those well-meaning folk who hear this and immediately start recommending salt baths and smoke cleanses.

I can reassure you that this is not a term that carries any particular historical reason to avoid its usage – it isn't comparable to such out-dated idioms as referring to public outcry as a “witch hunt” or the use of the phrase “Frankenstein's monster” when speaking of a messy, difficult situation, and implicitly associating reanimation with negativity and failure.

Instead, it is rather like the English language use of the word “slimy” to mean “dishonest” or “morally corrupt”. Certainly some people see the usage as offensive, but it isn't actually rooted in any specific anti-liminal sentiment and those voices are the minority.

In fact, some people argue that it is more offensive to assume “slimy” must somehow be associated with people of viscosity. But I think we are getting rather into the weeds of what is, to be honest, a largely online debate with very little real-world application.

In short, reader, it is up to you how you proceed. You need to decide for yourself whether you're comfortable with the ambiguity of your language and with the diverse ways you may be interpreted.

There are rarely any clear cut answers on the topic of language, and it may be that your feelings on the matter change over time. But the fact remains that only you can decide how best to describe yourself, and only you have the power to make this decision.

#the nightfolk network #monstrous agonies #answered

28 notes · View notes

samwisethewitch · 1 year

Text

Herbalism in Times of Turmoil

I've recently returned to my roots (pun intended) in folk herbalism to supplement the work I'm doing with my therapist. It wasn't an intentional thing -- in our current round of EMDR, we've uncovered some deeply buried trauma, and bringing that trauma to the surface has shaken the foundations of how I see myself and the world around me. I feel very raw and vulnerable. I feel disoriented and fragile.

I find myself drawn to plant medicine as I navigate this trauma with the help of my therapist. I think a part of me longs for the sympathetic magic of plants -- by taking them into my body, maybe I, too, can become firmly rooted, supported by the earth and nourished by the sun. Maybe I can relearn the magics of stillness and connection. Maybe I can reintegrate into the earth's cycles of death and rebirth.

Some of the plants I'm partnering with in this work are old friends. Others are new allies, recommended by professional herbalists for the type of trauma I'm processing. All of them are supportive in different ways, and all of them have important lessons.

Obviously, I am working with herbs as a compliment to the work I'm doing with a professional mental health counselor, not as a replacement for medical/psychological care. I recommend you do the same, especially if dealing with complex trauma. Even if money is tight, you may be able to get free or low-cost counseling through local social services, nonprofits, university hospitals, etc.

How I Work with Herbs

As an animist, I see working with herbs both as physical medicine and as a working relationship with the spirit of the plant. I don't like to say that I "use" herbs, because that implies that they are just tools. When I say I "work with" an herb, what I mean is that I am partnering with that plant as a living, thinking being that has kindly chosen to support my healing process. I try to honor that relationship in every part of my herbalist craft.

One way I do this is by verbally thanking the plants that I consume as medicine. If I'm drinking a cup of linden tea, I'll say something like, "Thank you, linden, for aiding in my healing today."

I try to use herbal preparations that allow for a sensory experience to help me connect with the plant spirit(s). I don't like taking capsules full of powdered herbs, because that doesn't allow me to see, touch, smell, or taste the plant. I like teas because they allow for a much more intimate connection with the plant's spirit, and I use tinctures when I feel like I need more concentrated medicinal compounds.

I'm a witch who loves plants, but when I'm working with herbs internally, I do not choose them based on their magical or spiritual correspondences. When choosing herbs, I look for quality scientific studies that prove their medicinal benefits, but honestly a lot of plant medicine hasn't been sufficiently studied yet. Because of this, I also look at the way plants are viewed in traditional healing modalities like Western herbalism, Ayurveda, Traditional Chinese Medicine, etc.

While I don't pick them based on their magical properties, I do think studying how these plants are used in magical practices can add an extra layer to my work with them. This helps me to have a more nuanced, deep, and complex relationship with the plant's spirit.

And of course, I always research contraindications and drug interactions before using an herb. For example, I don't recommend Saint John's Wort to anyone taking any kind of pharmaceutical medication because it really messes with the way your body processes your meds. It's also important to research how herbs might interact with other herbs and supplements you're already taking -- that's also a type of drug interaction!

I also try to remember that when we're moving through grief or processing trauma, this changes the way herbs (and drugs, for that matter) affect our bodies. I highly recommend the book The Trauma-Informed Herbalist by Elizabeth Guthrie to learn more about this.

My Herbal Allies

These are the herbs I'm taking focusing my practice on right now:

Ashwagandha and Tulsi are two plant friends that I love pairing together. They're both adaptogens, meaning they can help manage the body's stress response, and come to Western herbalism by way of Ayurveda. I've been working with both of these plants for years, and although they do have different uses, I think they work really well together.

Ashwagandha is really helpful as a pick-me-up for the endocrine system (the system that produces hormones) and nervous system. I find that it has a very grounding effect and is especially helpful for when I feel overwhelmed or burned out. It's a great ally for building resilience when you feel like there's just way too much going on and have no idea how you're going to handle it all. It has a very bitter taste, so I usually add it to coffee or another very bitter beverage.

Tulsi, also called Holy Basil, is a lot more gentle and laid-back than ashwagandha, at least in my experience. It's one of my go-to herbs when I need emotional support. According to herbalists Katja Swift and Ryn Midura, "Tulsi has traditionally been the herb of choice for 'stuck emotions,' whether that's depression or PTSD or just a case of the grumpies." It has a delicious taste somewhere between basil and mint, and I love preparing it as a hot tea. This is one of my favorite herbs right now.

In Ayurveda, ashwagandha is classified as a Rasayana, which means it rejuvenates the body and can promote long life. It is also a Bhalya, meaning it promotes strength, and a Vajikara, which means it promotes healthy sexuality. Tulsi is one of the most valued herbs in Ayurveda and is even called the most sacred plant on earth in the Vedic Puranas. It increases sattva (light, clarity), uplifts the spirit, promotes joy and harmony, and increases prana (vital energy; similar to the concept of chi in China). They're sometimes used together because they're believed to support each other and enhance each other's effects.

I add ashwagandha and tulsi tinctures to my morning coffee and to other hot beverages throughout the day. I also really like tulsi as a tea, and tulsi tea is one of my go-to tools for replenishing my energy after a long day of tarot readings. That being said, I'm considering changing the way I consume these herbs to be more in line with traditional Ayurvedic practices, but I need to do more research first.

Cannabis is, honestly, one of my personal miracle workers, which is a little bit ironic because I also think it's waaaaay overhyped in the wellness industry right now. Cannabis is not a cure-all, and it is not recommended for everyone. There are several different types of cannabis, and each type has its own medicinal uses. For example, the cannabis I use in my personal practice is hemp, which is legally defined as cannabis with little to no THC, meaning it does not produce a high. Marijuana, the type of cannabis with THC, is powerful medicine for some people, but because of how my body and brain work, I personally don't use it. While marijuana use may be illegal depending on where you live, hemp is legal in most places.

I started working with cannabis several years ago to help manage anxiety and insomnia, but nowadays I mostly work with it to help with inflammation and chronic pain.

I find that my body really holds on to trauma in the form of tension, inflammation, and chronic pain. When my trauma response is triggered, I usually feel it as tension or pain, especially in my hips, pelvis, and lower back. I find cannabis really helpful for that stored trauma. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it helps me feel into it and navigate through it. I also find cannabis is really good at relaxing my body and helping me let go of that stored up trauma, almost like unclenching a fist.

Cannabis was historically used throughout the ancient world for divination and religious ritual. It's associated with connection to the spirit world, and may have been used in magical practices like the Norse practice of seidr. Scott Cunningham says hemp is associated with love spells and with Midsummer.

My favorite way to work with cannabis is with a cannibidiol (CBD) isolates. Since I live in a place where THC is illegal and have some health conditions that don't play well with THC, I like CBD isolates because I'm able to make sure I'm getting a THC-free product. I add CBD to my coffee along with tulsi and ashwagandha, and I feel like it helps me process the caffeine better. I also notice rapid relief for joint and nerve pain, anxiety, and intrusive thoughts after drinking this brew.

Meadowsweet is a new plant friend for me. I actually first came across meadowsweet when I was researching handfasting herbs -- it's a traditional inclusion in British handfasting and wedding ceremonies, and was historically used as a "strewing herb," which means it was sprinkled on the ground. It's also a traditional flavor in mead, and in fact the name "meadowsweet" comes from its traditional use in mead-making. (I actually have a batch of meadowsweet mead fermenting right now!)

In herbalism, meadowsweet is prized because it contains salicylates, which can be used to make salicylic acid, the main ingredient in aspirin. This makes it great for pain, especially pain caused by inflammation. It's also great for your digestive system, which makes it a powerful ally if, like me, you suffer from the dreaded "anxiety tummy."

Meadowsweet is a very summer-y plant for me, and its energy reminds me of summer sunshine. It's a plant that reminds me to find joy in the little things in life, and has a very hopeful vibe. This is a plant I associate with both Midsummer and Lughnasa. It's a great friend for when you just need a little sweetness in your life.

On a more physical level, I combine meadowsweet with cannabis, ashwagandha, and tulsi to manage chronic pain rooted in trauma. And, of course, for keeping the anxiety tummy at bay.

In European magic traditions, meadowsweet is associated with love, peace, and joy. Interestingly, Scott Cunningham also talks about the use of meadowsweet for protection from thieves.

I add meadowsweet tincture to my morning coffee along with ashwagandha, tulsi, and CBD. I also really enjoy it as a hot tea, and I think the flavor blends really well with tulsi.

Linden is another new friend for me, but I am obsessed. I don't think I've ever worked with an herb that feels this gentle, supportive, and nourishing to the soul. Katja Swift and Ryn Midura of the Holistic Herbalism Podcast call linden "a hug in a mug," and I think that's a perfect description of how it feels.

In Western herbalism, linden is most often used for heart conditions and to restore the cardiovascular system. However, it also works as a nervine, which means it has a calming effect on the nervous system. It can provide gentle relief for anxiety, tension, and even everyday stress. In Herbal Medicine for Beginners, Swift and Midura even recommend linden to "mitigate the side effects of drying, stimulating medications like Adderall and Ritalin." It is also recommended for nerve pain and damaged nerves.

Linden is wonderful medicine for the heart, both the physical heart and the emotional heart. I really do feel an improvement in my mood when I work with linden. It's soothing and uplifting at the same time.

Magically, linden is strongly associated with protection. It's also associated with love, good luck, and preventing insomnia. Scott Cunningham mentions carrying linden to prevent intoxication.

My favorite way to work with linden is by drinking it as a tea. It tastes similar to chamomile, but a little less fruity. I drink several cups throughout the day, especially when I feel like I need to unwind or calm down.

Rose is one of my favorite flowers. Maybe that makes me basic, but I really do love this plant. The scent of rose has been one of my favorite scents since I was very small -- I remember going to Catholic mass with my mom and praying with my own rose-scented rosary!

We usually think of rose as a decorative flower or an ingredient in perfume, but it also has culinary and medicinal uses. It's used topically to treat skin issues by promoting the growth of new skin cells and to treat rashes and eczema. It can also help soothe gut problems. Rose is also relaxing and anti-inflammatory.

In magic rose is associated with love and romance (duh), divination, healing, fast luck, protection, and connection to the divine. Cunningham recommends it for calming "personal stress and household upheavals" and says the flowers attract fairies. This might be because I was raised Catholic, but rose feels like a very sacred plant to me. In Catholicism it's associated with the Virgin Mary and with some other saints like St. Therese of Lisieux, but I personally use rose more in ancestor work (especially when working with queer ancestors) and for attracting friendly spirits in general.

Right now, my favorite way to work with rose is in aromatherapy. The smell of fresh roses is so uplifting, and it makes me feel like I'm surrounded by gentle, loving protection. I'm sure there are probably health benefits to working with the pure essential oil, but real rose essential oil is VERY expensive, so I use a mild rose-scented perfume instead. (I'm very sensitive to scents and often get headaches from artificial fragrances, but right now I'm wearing Pacifica Beauty's Persian Rose perfume and I haven't had any issues with it.)

Sources:

Herbal Medicine for Beginners by Katja Swift and Ryn Midura

Queering Herbalism, 3rd edition, compiled by Toi of the Herbal Freedom School

The Trauma-Informed Herbalist by Elizabeth Guthrie

Cunningham's Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham

All episodes from the first season of The Trauma Informed Herbalist podcast, but especially the two-part series, "How Trauma Changes Us"

"Herbs for Psychological First Aid" from The Holistic Herbalism Podcast

"Herbs & the Holidays: Emotional Support" from The Holistic Herbalism Podcast

"Working With Herbs For Chronic Pain" from the Holistic Herbalism Podcast

"The Centuries-Old Secrets of Gender-Affirming Herbalism" by Leah Kirts

"How To Incorporate Hemp In Your Materia Medica" by Heather Saba

"Cannabis: Potent and Versatile Medicine" by Sue Sierralupe & Candace Hunter