I’ve Been Playing Dead By Daylight Lately ; And Now I’m Wondering How Would The The General Yandere

Happy madness day!

lil something

Fear of your life

King Boo Donnie-or King Donnie for short-was made by the lovely @gal-with-pastels and @sweaterrat

This is for Yan King Don-

Warnings: mentioned drugging, attempted drugging, destruction of property, threats

Taglist, tell me if you’d like to be added or removed: @oleander-nin @acutiewithagun @itsyagurlchip @mimocrocodilelol @goneto @souperwrites @defnotnoodle

“Where my requests not simple? Hm? I laid them out for you, every minute and fine detail! All of them right there on that paper!”

A hand, previously tapping an agitated rhythm alongside its pair, moves to squeeze its owner’s nose bridge. A disappointed glare is shot down at the cowering hotel owner, as intense violet lights stare her down.

“One job. You had ONE JOB. Bring my darling here-you succeed in that-which I may remind you is the literal bare minimum!”

The hotel owner had the dignity to lower her head, all the while keeping her ears open to her superior’s rant.

“Got them to my desired room, fine points for that! And yet-you missed the most important, crucial, critical, key piece of the puzzle-THE DROUGHT!”

Aggregated hands crack hard wood, as a flare of intense, mystical, purple energy knocks pictures off walls, couches to the floor, and the cowering woman to her knees.

“My kin-“

“Shut it. The most important part, of my plan for enteral happiness! The component I literally-look at my lips, look at me-I LITERALLY HAND DELIVERED TO YOU. Was lost. By one of your INCOMPETENT STAFF!”

Abruptly the man stood, uncaring that he speed and strength sent the heavy mahogany chair he had been sat in tumbling to the side, barely blinking when said chair cracked into two against the wall.

“Knocked over. Whoosh! Down the drain! LITERALLY MOONS OF WORK GONE. THEY WERE SO CLOSE TO DRINKING IT! SO. SO. SO. THREE SO’S-CLOSE TO BEING MINE! And know my sweet love is running amok through your hotel! Fussing their gorgeous little head over everything, when they could have-should have-WOULD HAVE BEEN SEATED BY MY SIDE! NO IN MY LAP! SAFE WHERE THEY SHOULD BE!”

Cold near frigid violet eyes snap over to the kneeling hotel owner, any and all words dying in her tone at the wordless demand for silence.

“Do you know what grinds my metaphorical gears? He says extremely calmly with every bit of restraint as a saint? Hm? Not only is my darling running amok in your dangerous hotel. We have to delay the ceremonies!”

Muttering an ‘offended scoff,’ hands trailed over suit lapels and brooch tie, soothing the completely flawless silk, before the irritated man continued his rant.

“My people are restless, they always have been comes with the territory of ghosts and all, but they were promised a wedding. A Royal Wedding. My wedding. Heavy, heavy, that’s two heavy’s, emphasis on ‘My wedding!’ The event of the year-no! To say that would be affront on my love and myself, our wedding will be the event of the century! And yet-what do we have, myself-an agitated groom, AND AN EMPTY CROWN AND THRONE !”

As if to add emphasis and salt to the wound, gloved hands scoop up an elaborate glass case. Lifting the carrying case to light, his rage gradually began to calm for a few tense seconds.

“I am not a patient person. I am extremely aware of that flaw of mine, however, that will not stop me from being agitated at the circumstances you have put us both in.”

With a hand far more gentle than the chaos of the wrecked office could say, he slowly pulled the case open, revealing an-equally if not more-elaborate crown which matches his own.

“And I gladly learn to be more patient for my dear, it could take me an eternity-“

The hotel owner eagerly snatched the opportunity to slip out of her now ruined office, as the violet suited king lifted the crown-a near perfect copy to his own-to his lips for a chaste kiss to its golden surface.

“But we will have all the time in the world soon my dear. Very soon. Of course you’ve claimed your rightful status by side.”

A mischievous, smile spread across the king’s face, as he turned to stare out the window overlooking the now frantic bustle of the hotel’s interior. Chuckling lowly to himself, he brought the second crown directly in front of his face, noting his own reflection before speaking.

“It not like I’ve left my darling any other option.”

Hello I really like your work, do you think you could yandere Leo/Donnie with a reader that cries really easily?

A/N, not important: YES I KNOW I HAVE A SCHEDULE NOW BUT LEON SAID I COULD IGNORE IT ONCE A MONTH AND I AM SO PROUD OF THIS. This was so fun to do because I am the most emotional person, and I cry so much it isn't even funny. I apologize for the headcanon bit, I really suck at writing them and Leo's contradicts himself left and right lmaooo. Maybe I'll go back and rework them one day. Am VERY proud of the fic portion though. Once I finish a last couple fics, I might do Raph and Mikey for this as well. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: Needles(Donnie), kidnapping, restraints, crying, dark themes, yandere

Words: 3629

Summary: Yandere Leo and Donnie navigate trying to deal with their darling who cries easily

Leo:

He finds your sniffles and tears a bit endearing, and it plays into his hero complex. You’re just the cute little human who can’t handle the real world. That’s why he saved you, whisking you away to the lair to ‘keep you safe’. 

Teases you relentlessly for it. He finds it funny, albeit a bit worrying. He knows how easy you cry though, and isn’t all that concerned. He’s been watching you for years, he’s well aware how easily you’re set off.

He knows you’re only crying because of him, so he feels safe poking fun at you. It’s not like you’d willingly let him help, so he might as well have some fun if you’re going to be ‘dramatic’.

He’s determined to make you smile one of these days instead of breaking into sobs when he gets too close, but until then, he’ll just pretend your tears are from the joy of seeing him.

While he does find your puffy eyes slightly adorable, your countless tears do slightly annoy him. He doesn't like that you cry at the sight of him, or whimper at his touch. You’re supposed to love him. He usually ends up guilt tripping you after a few minutes, trying to make you feel bad for your emotions.

If he goes too far in his teasing and realizes what he’s saying is actually hurting you, he immediately changes gears and starts pampering you instead. He loves you, you’re his darling. He was just trying to get back at you for crying whenever he touched you. He didn’t mean to actually upset you. He just thought you were a crybaby.

Instantly pulls you close and starts actually trying to comfort you. He holds you in his arms while whispering apologies, letting himself be more vulnerable with you. You love him after all, you’re just confused. If he can’t be vulnerable with you, how can he expect you to ever trust him.

His favorite thing to do is kiss your tears away, trying to comfort you through bouts of affection. He knows you’re more sensitive, so once he realizes it’s serious, he’ll take care of you.

If you cry for a reason other than being scared of him, he’s quick to help you with your problem and comfort you, even if his form of comfort makes you cry more. It’s not his fault you hate his amazing hugs. He can’t deal with you crying for another reason, it means you got hurt or are thinking of something that’s not him. He can’t have that.

If you’re crying from a person or because you’re hurt(either emotionally or physically), he gets more serious and takes care of you. He’ll put on a movie and burrito you in blankets until you can’t get out, then snuggle up with you and whisper sweet nothings while you’re stuck. He finds it sweet and caring. You find it nerve wracking.

If a person makes you cry, he’ll gladly go remove them so they’ll never bother you again. If it was one of his brothers, he’d mess with something they enjoy and be as petty as possible to them for the next few days. He doesn't want you to truly be upset.

I let out a small groan as a buzzing sounds through my head and rattles my skull. I slowly shake off the sleep, trying to ignore how heavy I felt. My skin tingles uncomfortably, as if there were bugs crawling just underneath the skin. I stretch in my bed, confused to feel a plush comforter on top of me. A distant rattling sounds as I move and my wrists are tugged painfully back into place. My eyes flutter open and I look around, panic coursing through me. This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t my room.

Where in the world was I?

I feel my throat start to tighten as a heavy weight settles on my chest. This was wrong. I pull uselessly at the restraints connecting my wrists to the pole that stretched from floor to ceiling. No matter how hard I tug, it didn’t give. All it did was make the skin on my wrists red and inflamed. They were starting to burn. I look around my prison with misty eyes, trying to figure out my surroundings. It looked as if I was in a refurbished subway car.

I blink away my tears as I suck in a shaky breath. Crying wouldn’t help. I couldn’t cry, not now. I needed a clear mind to get out of here. Swallowing back the building tears, I scan the room for something that could possibly clue me in to what was happening. I was obviously kidnapped and restrained, but why?

Ransom? I shake my head. I wasn’t the most well off considering I was just a college student. That same logic applies to robbery. I wasn’t wealthy, and sure didn’t look at it. My family wasn't exactly the cream of the crop either.

I shakily exhale. Was I just brought here to be tortured and murdered? Just an unlikely victim of a crime of passion? I shudder at the thought, new tears brimming my eyes. This wasn’t fair. I just wanted to go home. I wipe a few tears off my cheeks as they fall, the salty liquid leaving small stains on my cheeks. I sniffle softly, trying to keep it down. Crying in front of my captor would not be the best.

My head shoots up as I hear the faint padding of footsteps outside the door, a loud voice shouting to others in the area. I thickly swallow. There was more than one. I was outnumbered, chained, and alone. I quickly settle back into the bed, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment before letting my face relax. I take a couple deep breaths to calm my tears. Years of crying at the slightest inconvenience sure helps when you need to calm down quickly. Although, I would argue this is a perfectly acceptable situation to cry over. Not that I wanted to.

The fluttering of a curtain being pushed to the side sounds through the room. I hear my captor walk towards me, a soft tune being hummed as he nears. His voice was smooth and crisp, way too happy to match the fear coursing through me. I feel a wave of disgust wash over me. This guy kidnapped me, and is now humming a happy little tune like everything was right in the world. I wanted to jump up and scream at him, hit him with everything I had. This wasn’t fair.

I stay still on the bed despite my violent desires. Doing such a bold action while I was chained would only result in my own injury. I try my best not to tense as I feel his presence near and the humming grow louder. I make sure to keep my cheeks soft, trying to keep up the facade of a deep sleep. Maybe if he saw I was sleeping, he’d leave me alone.

I feel a finger caress my cheek, tracing the tracks of my tears. I hold back a shudder at his touch, trying not to shake. I forgot about the tear tracks. My pulse thunders in my ears as every part of my body begs me to run, but I can’t. I was stuck, a loop of chain keeping me grounded. There was nowhere I could go. Nowhere to run, nor hide. I was trapped with a monster, awaiting my demise.

“You were crying.” The voice pauses for a moment, seemingly thinking. I try everything to keep my breathing steady. I hear a small chuckle from above me as the voice speaks once more, this time in a more teasing tone. “Aww, did you miss me that much?”

My breath hitches in my throat and I don’t breathe, trying to convince him of my unconsciousness. It doesn’t work. I feel a couple more quick taps to my face, each one sending a chill down my spine. I hear another chuckle above me as he continues to poke at my face, watching it scrunch up from my inability to control my muscles.

"Open your eyes, I wanna see them." The voice demands, despite his tone being surprisingly soft. I hold out for a moment more before I feel a sudden wetness and pressure in my ear cavity. I jolt back, glaring at him while I wipe my ear with the heel of my hand. I open my mouth to complain, to try and hold my ground, but all words leave me the moment I meet his eyes.

He was a turtle. A large, smug, humanoid turtle. His arms were muscular and the limited part I could see of his build was strong. Two stark red crescents peaked out of his blue mask and stood out against his green skin. I could barely understand what I was looking at. 

I gape at him for a moment, trying to process what I was seeing. A scream builds up in my chest, fear upon what I saw. His eyes were big and held a strong ego, scanning me up and

down for my reaction. 

"What, don't like what you see?" He asks, still grinning. It was if he thought this whole thing was some huge joke. Nothing more than something to laugh over as the years go by. I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to control my breathing. Too much was happening at once and I could feel my chest starting to constrict on me. The pressure keeps rising and my heart thumps loudly in my ears, drowning out the words I watch him speak but cannot hear. New tears prick at my eyes, quickly falling down my cheek and gathering at my chin before splashing onto my clothes and lap. The turtle's grin widens as he sees my tears, a small coo sounding from his throat. "I know, I know. This meeting was bound to get a bit emotional. It sure is shocking to meet your soulmate for the first time."

I pause at his words, blinking as more tears fall. I try to hold back the choked sobs as I hurriedly wipe away my tears, feeling weak and pathetic for crying in what was possibly my killer. In the least, he was certainly my kidnapper. Showing any ounce of emotional vulnerability in front of him made me feel like I was falling further into his grasp, the chains around my wrists rattling quietly as I move my hands. I jolt back as his three fingered hands move to cup my cheeks, holding my face tight to keep me from squirming away. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks, completely out of my control. His blue masked face just smiles, wiping them as they fall with his thumbs.

Donnie:

He gets really upset at your constant stream of tears. You’re supposed to be happy with him. He doesn’t understand why you insist on throwing a ‘tantrum’ every time he comes near you or something slightly inconvenient happens. Your emotions don’t make much sense to him, even if he realizes the pattern.

Donnie’s not the best at empathizing with your tears. He finds them annoying and proof of you not settling him in. In his mind, the tears equal his own failures as a lover.

The more you cry, the more intense he’ll get. It’ll start with him trying to find solutions and devolve into threats. He just wants you to stop crying. Why won’t you stop crying?

Despite knowing you will cry at anything, he still takes it personally every time. It starts to annoy him and stress him out as he desperately tries to figure out what’s wrong.

Will probably lock you in his room if you keep crying. He doesn’t want to deal with it. Your tears stress him out and make him feel bad, which he doesn’t want. You’re supposed to love him, not cry at the sight of him.

If you’re crying about him or something he did(in his mind, something you made him do), he’ll just ignore your cries. He may snap at you to shut up a couple times, but just grumbles under his breath other than that.

The reason he hates it when you cry is because it makes him feel bad. He learned pretty quickly the way he tries to comfort you doesn’t help much, so instead he just ignores you. He would love to hold you close and keep you occupied so your tears stop, but you never let him touch you. At least, not without a fight. He usually gets fed up enough to leave you alone, but he’ll probably ignore you for days afterwards as a punishment.

If you have a ‘valid’ reason to cry(according to him), he’ll step in and actually help you. He’ll try to comfort you to the best of his ability. He doesn’t want anyone else to bring you pain, so he’ll take care of the problem and make sure to help you. He’ll pull you close as he works and let you cry into his chest for once, ignoring the way you fight him.

He wishes so badly you’d just stop crying. Sometimes he’ll even go to Mikey for advice on how to make you not so scared. It hurts him to see it, and it makes him more agitated with you, which ends in more tears. He wants it to stop.

He tries not to physically punish you for crying. He hates your tears, but you are doing a relatively good thing by trusting Donnie enough to cry in front of him. He’ll usually end up building you a quick item to keep you occupied or have SHELLDON spend time with you until you calm down. He doesn’t want to make your sobs worse.

If he wants affection, and you cry, he’ll just not care. He’ll spoon you from behind so you don’t get your tears on him and hold you close. He’s not willing to give up his own needs for your dramatics.

Bright lights shine into my closed eyelids, my body recoiling as my eyes start to open. I keep them squeezed shut, trying to minimize the damage to my sight. To my left, soft footfalls could be heard paired with a low muttering. I try to move my limbs, my breath hitching once I realize I was strapped down. I feel my breathing quicken, my blood running cold. I let my eyes flutter open, ignoring the way the bright burned my retinas as I force my eyes into focus. Tears built up in the corners of my eyes while my chest tightened.

I couldn’t move. My head was stuck between two large pieces of padding and my limbs were strapped down. The cold metal of the straps burned into my skin, the padding pressing uncomfortably against my cheeks. My face grows hot with tears as I try to force them down, not wanting to alert the presence at my left to my consciousness. A small gasp sounds, and I realize I was too late.

A large, humanoid turtle moves into my vision, my heart pounding in fear as he looks me up and down. I couldn’t help but gasp at his appearance while he towers over me. A purple mask covered the top half of his face, only showing his cold eyes. I look at the purple metal on his back, watching the light catch it to make it shimmer. The purple markings on his shoulders and thighs seemed to glow with the screen he had in front of him, glancing between it and me. His face is scrunched up in thought while he stares down at me, the look of surprise in his eyes morphing into one of confusion. I stay silent, unable to wipe the tears trailing down my cheeks away, unable to keep my dignity in front of this monster.

I couldn’t help but wish for my parents, for freedom. Silent tears continued to build up and fall while the figure in front of me stared me down. His eyes were glued to my cheeks and my expression, one I could only imagine is of terror. He raises his hand to grab my face and I flinch.

I press my head against the headrest of the chair, trying to dodge his approaching hand. He ignores my attempts, grabbing my face firmly and frowning as he stares into my eyes. He wipes my tears before dropping his hand down to cup my chin. I struggle as he forces my face up to make me look at him, a short whimper being pulled from my throat. I blink back more tears, unsure what to make of the turtle in front of me. He continues to stare down my shaking form for a moment, his bottom lip jutting out.

“Are you… Crying?” His surprisingly smooth voice asks. I scrunch my face up, confused why he was even asking. His question took me a bit off guard. Why was he confused about my tears? Sure, I cried more easily than most people, but this situation wasn’t one I would consider something I shouldn’t cry over. The turtle continues to stare me down, seemingly waiting for me to answer. I don’t. I had nothing to say. My voice wouldn’t let me either way. He drops my chin with a glare, rolling his eyes. I let out a breath of relief when he backs up, my limbs still shaking slightly from the fear. I watch him move around the room, not sure whether to be relieved or worried when he ducks out of my sight. 

"Your tears won't phase me." He says, the clinking of metal and glass punctuating his words. I hear a small beep along with liquid being swirled around, my fear rising. Was I about to be experimented on? To be ripped apart and killed brutally? What would something like him even want with me? "Cry all you want, but it won't stop me. You're mine."

His words make me pause as I try to decipher the meaning of his words while he comes back into my line of vision. He's absentmindedly pulling a medical cart with him, staring down at the screen on his wrist. I try to look at the contents of the medical cart, but his body is blocking my sight. I gulp. What could he possibly want? The pads around my head feel sticky from my tears. I wanted to be away from this dreaded chair so bad. I wanted to go home. The turtle looks at me again, smirking at my discomfort. I take a deep breath as he drops his wrist and wheels the cart in front, ready to show off the torture he planned on putting me through.

My breath leaves my chest when I see four syringes lined neatly on the surface of the cart, a sharps container and needles off to the side. I feel as though I had been doused in cold water, new tears springing to my eyes. I was right, I was about to be experimented on then killed. There was no way I could fathom getting out of this alive. I grip the armrest of the chair I was strapped to, my hand cramping and my knuckles turning white from the force. His eyes meet mine and narrow slightly, tsking at the new tears rolling down my cheeks. He didn’t comment on them, but he seemed obviously relieved I wasn’t making much noise. If I could, I would thank the heavens I was a silent crier.

His gaze follows mine to the medical cart holding the needles, a thoughtful hum sounding from his throat. He turns back to me, he drawn eyebrows raising. “I am aware of your allergy to penicillin, and I can assure you there is none in any of the injections I’m about to give you.”

I pause at his words, trying to understand how he knew that. Did he run tests on me while I was asleep? Access my medical history? I shudder at the thought, my mouth too dry to scream and shout all the things I wanted to. My eyes widen as he comes near me with the first shot, his three-fingered hands covered in latex gloves. I struggle violently against the straps, trying desperately to escape. A loud sob is pulled from my chest as more tears pour down my face, fear crashing over me in strong waves.

The turtle pauses, looking down at my mess of a form. A minute goes by as he watches me panic, his right eye twitching. He looks down at the needle in his hand and frowns, tapping his thigh repeatedly with the unoccupied hand. He looks back at me, ignoring my teary face. “I was not aware you had trypanophobia. I apologize, but I really need to do this. If you close your eyes, it’ll be easier. Your struggling will only make it worse.

I suck in a shaky breath, trying to speak. I blank at his words, my eyes still trained on the needle. I assumed he thought I had a fear of needles, and not of being injected with a mystery liquid. Hopefully my death would be quick. He reaches out with one hand and stabilizes my arm, bringing the needle dangerously close to my flesh. I sob harder, trying to jerk away from him, but to no avail. I take one last look at the world around me, expecting to not be able to see it for much longer. I close my eyes and try not to scream as the needle enters my skin.

”what eyes”

Begging gringos (and some latin-americans descendants who were born and grew up outside America Latina) to learn somethings.

There's no such thing as "white passing Latino" unless that person is indigenous.

Stop saying that you're not white because you're Latino, you are white. You're not a victim of racism for being Latino, you're affected by xenophobia.

Latino it's not a race.

If one of your parents is Latino and the other is not you're not "half Latino and half white/black/asian/brown etc" you're whatever race you are AND LATINO, you're both, the entire thing, no half.

Latinos aren't mixed or biracial for being Latino and white/black etc.

Latino it's A CULTURAL IDENTITY, an attachment we have to the country we came from. And that country HAVE TO BE PART OF AMERICA LATINA.

French, Italians, Spain people, THEY'RE NOT LATINO. (I can not believe I have to say this) yes, Latino have this linguistic meaning of people who speak a latin language and that includes french and Italian, but no one use the word in that sense most of the time. Latino it's a cultural identity related to only America latina.

PEOPLE FROM SPAIN AREN'T LATINOS, they're Hispanic, Wich is also not a race and does not make white Hispanics less white. Hispanic are people who are born in spanish-speaking countries, that's it.

For the mother of god STOP SAYING LATINX. Not only is completely useless when you're speaking in English since the English language ALREADY HAVE A NEUTRAL FORM OF SAYING LATINO (literally "Latin"), but also not even inside America Latina with our languages we say "Latinx" since people with Dislexia here often have a problem pronouncing and reading that. Insisting In the use of that is ableist and stupid. Either say "Latin" or "Latine"

NOBODY LOOKS LATINO, we don't have "Latin phenotypes", you could show me a picture of a Chinese family, tell me they're Brazilians and I would believe in you because that's how diverse america latina is, no one look Latino.

Doing this list because I was reading ultimate Spider-Man and miles called himself "Half Hispanic" and that pissed me off because he said that as a response of someone saying that he's black. As if this would make him less black or half black and he's both black and Latino, no halfs.

Neurotypicals should NOT be using the words “hyperfixation” or “special interest” to describe things they’re passionate about. Their experiences with liking or loving something will not even come close to the experiences of ADHD and autistic people hyperfixating on something. If you’re neurotypical and you call something you love your hyperfixation or special interest, that is ABLEIST and you should stop.

Why is it ableist, you ask? When I was a young, undiagnosed child, my hyperfixations often tended to wind up controlling nearly every aspect of my life. When I hyperfixated on Star Wars, for example, Star Wars was all I could think about. I watched every movie repeatedly (although this didn’t include the new trilogy because they weren’t out yet), I watched every show, including the campy LEGO ones. I read the cheap Star Wars Universe paperback novels cover-to-cover and when I finished, I’d start again. (There was one of them in my school library that I became INFAMOUS for checking out.) I crawled through holes searching for Star Wars content. I had a huge plastic box in my bedroom filled with the Star Wars fanfiction I’d written. The same things happened when I hyperfixated on Hamilton, Wings of Fire, Doctor Who, Robin Hood, or any of my hyperfixations.

And guess what? I got bullied. Holy shit, did I get bullied for these things. And not only by students, but by adults too. When I was ten, I was banned from talking about Minecraft, my hyperfixation at the time, by my fourth-grade teacher. True story. I became know as a “book wrecker” because I read my paperback books so often (and I tended to stim while reading them which resulted in the book being thrown across the room, or it’s cover being ripped off, or something similar). All my teachers complained about my obsessions, as they put it. (“All she ever talks about is [hyperfixation]!”) Hell, I’ve even LOST FRIENDS over my hyperfixations in the past.

Bottom line: ADHD and autistic people’s hyperfixations and special interests aren’t things we like a little, or things we choose to be passionate about. They’re things we quite literally can’t live without. Our brains go crawling through holes, searching for dopamine, and when they find something they like, they fixate on it until they’ve wrung every last neurotransmitter out of it. Hyperfixations can be fun, but eventually, they’ll just leave you feeling spent.

It’s not like that for neurotypicals. Their passions don’t invade every part of their lives. Their passions aren’t all they can think about. Their passions aren’t something they need to survive, as surely as water and air.

That’s not even all. For autistic children especially, their special interests have been a source of constant ableist stigma. Many children with ASD are forced into what’s essentially conversion therapy for autistic children. It’s “therapy” meant to beat the divergence out of them, and essentially force them to be neurotypical. They’re punished for having special interests. Their special interests are seen as something inherently bad, almost evil, that they need to let go of in order to “live full lives.” Often, they’re separated from their special interest, and forbidden from talking about it. For a neurodivergent child, that’s like not being allowed to sleep.

And for a long time, fandom space has been made up mostly of neurodivergent people. We’re the originals. “Cringe culture” was made up by neurotypicals who didn’t like nds realistically hyperfixating within their “controlled fandom space.” They wanted fandom community, but they didn’t want the baggage that came along with it. Cringe culture has become so prevalent that even in fandom, a space meant to be neurodivergent nirvana, ableism has become ingrained and nds are ostracized.

And more often than not, they’re the ones bullying neurodivergent kids for having hyperfixations or special interests. They call kids freaks for thinking/talking about one thing every waking moment, then they turn write around and say, “[X] is my hyperfixation, lol.” Y’all love neurodivergency until it doesn’t fit your cute uwu aesthetic.

If you’re neurotypical, please don’t describe something you love as your hyperfixation or special interest. That’s really not what it is, and saying that is just perpetuating the ableism in fandom space, and, more generally, in society. Look, we know it’s fun to have a word to describe stuff. But those are our words. Please use your own.

Just…talking this out.

I'd love to see a situation where Leo hangs out with a best friend of his and starts developing big feelings. He wouldn't know what these feelings were, testing simple things like hugs and hand holding with his other friend, April, to see if it's just an internal 'glitch' or something common.

Obviously, the reaction wouldn't work with April. Thus, he'd get to a point where he realizes he, of all people, is absolutely smitten with his best friend and begins unintentionally pursuing them (perhaps letting his hugs last a little longer than normal, kissing their knuckles occasionally in passing, leaning a tad bit closer to their face during each conversation…eventually to encase them against a wall on a rooftop, shielding them from the ongoing evening rain, finally and confidently uttering his confession).

Y'know…just…brain worms.

Close to You

Leo x gn!reader

Warnings: confessions, struggling with feelings, kissing, swearing

A/N: mmmm just brain worms? Let me eat them /silly.... Actually, can I use them to make a brain worm farm?

Something was off. He couldn't stop thinking about you. Your smile, your laugh, your touch. He often zoned out, thinking about you.

This is getting out of hand....

Sitting next to you, watching Jupiter Jim since you've never seen it. Feeling your arm brush his as you get comfortable, sparks flying over his skin. Leo glances at you, his heart pounding in his chest. He finds himself looking at your lips, wondering what they feel like against his.

He blinks, quickly looking away. People don't normally feel that way with friends, right?

He didn't understand what he was feeling. He decided to test it out. April. The perfect friend, always willing to help.

He definitely didn't explain or ask, but he knew if April knew it might skew results. Leo was getting scientific, something he didn't really understand. But it has to be done.

During a movie night you couldn't attend, he sat next to April, leaning against her and snuggling as he normally did with anyone he sat next to. Throughout the movie, his glances to her were seldom, mostly when she'd shift to get more comfortable or made a comment. Her arm bumped his and he felt nothing, he had no desire to get closer, no desire to touch her more.

That night he went to bed more confused, deciding to tell April about it later. Maybe she'd have some insight on what's going on with him. And of course she did.

Crush.

That was the simple word that echoed in his head as he went home.

Crush.

He shakes his head, trying to knock that one word out of his head.

There's no way...

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

As time went on, he couldn't help himself. Leo would touch you, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, cuddling with you during movie nights. He wanted to be close, he wanted to get closer.

He'd noticed your blush, the way you'd cover your face at times. It made him need it more. He had to see more.

When you two were alone in his room, he'd let you rest against him. Sitting between his legs, your back against his plastron. It became a norm. So did his fingers tracing over your skin.

You're so soft...

He nuzzles your jaw, making you tilt your head to the side. His heart pounds in his chest as he presses his beak to your neck.

You smell so good...

Eventually he decides he has to tell you. He can't do it anymore, he can't stand it. It itches, it's hard to not just spill it. Not blurt it out the moment he sees you.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

He had his jacket around you, your back pressed against his plastron. The pitter patter of rain, the feeling of the rain against his skin, the feeling of you in his embrace. Everything felt perfect.

Leo nuzzles your temple as you look over the city skyline. He sways slightly, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his arms wrapped around you. He takes a deep breath, basking in the moment.

"You're so warm." You hum, pressing back against him more. He churrs softly, burying his beak in your hair. You tilt your head back, laying it on the top edge of his plastron. "This is quite the view..."

"Kinda romantic, huh?" He teases, chuffing into your hair. Leo hugs you a bit tighter, feeling nervousness seep in.

"Perfect for a little date." You muse back, reaching up to rub his arm comfortingly. You watch the cars on the street, basking in Leo's warmth.

"I... Really like being with you." He murmurs, moving his arms as you turn around to face him.

"Don't tell me you're getting all mushy." The teasing words have him blushing, playfully pushing you away.

"Me? Mushy?" Leo laughs, trying to hide the big grin on his face with an eyeroll. You laugh back, letting him pull you back against him. His laughter dies a little, but still smiling widely. "I'm serious though... I love being with you... I.... I've realized some things recently..."

You listen intently, seeing the nervousness written all of his face. His grip on our waist tightened a little, taking a deep breath.

"I... Have a massive fucking crush on you..." He whispers finally, closing his eyes as if he was scared of your reaction.

"Really?" You gasp, making him open his eyes. The look on your face, you weren't repulsed like he'd thought you would be. He couldn't help himself any longer, leaning down as he cupped your cheek.

"Really..." He chuffs, pressing his lips to yours, sealing the confession with a sweet kiss.

After seeing that shitty frenchamerican movie about mexicans without mexicans in the main cast winning so many awards im glad Brazil winned this! I dont even care about oscar, this is HUGE!!!!

"I'm still here" isnt just a random film. It is about the military dictatorship, which on the contrary of countries like Argentina and Chile, Brazil didnt punished most part of the people that did and colaborated for all the deaths, crimes and opressions, and many families still and probably wont ever know where their family members were "buried/disposed".

And not only historic value and resistance against military coups (which are a constant threat with the rise of extreme right in Brazilian politics and military), this is a win for the lack of support and acknowledgement brazilian cinema has, by our own government and by gringos, that keep on pretending the world is just hollywood and some few european countries

My position is that gringo awards arent the reason we make films. But it does help a lot. It attracts investment, international film companies, something continents like latin america doesnt have compared to japan, korea, china, india and european countries own independent film and shows productions, so much they even have prestigious relevant cinema and tv show awards season.

Hey everyone, please consider buying the 2024 itch.io Palestinian Relief Bundle- it's 373 games, game-making assets, tabletop roleplaying games, zines, and comics for a minimum of just 8 USD! They have a goal of 100,000 USD, and as of the time I'm writing this post, they have 8 more days to reach it.

Link will be in the reblog!