#My hyperfixations and ideas are so strange I have no idea how to explain them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 2 years ago

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SO HERE'S A QUESTION FOR THE RIDDLER SQUAD. How would they react if their S/O set a customizable avatar in a videogame as a companion to their S/O's own avatar? Think Miitopia or Sims or Etrian Odyssey, games like that. And their S/O is really excited to show them!

"Hey that's me!" Riddler party x reader

Very cute! I do this all the time with f/o's in video games;;; I've even played the (VERY NSFW) Koikatsu Party and made Edward the male protag. Well. Tried to. For some reason those kind of games tend to make the male customization not nearly as detailed for my taste. Then I go to the sims LOL.

TW: NSFW suggestive (only nashton LOL)

Gotham

An incredibly happy muppet. There's only one of those games that he would play in the examples and it's Etrian Odyssey. Turn based RPGs and strategy are his cup of tea! So he's immediately interested and kind of Hyperfixating.

He's going to get the game and take it all a step further. All of his friends are going to be in the party. Penguin and Jim and Victor... But you're his favorite mvp party member!

Yes he's going to be way better at it than you and he's going to end up giving you advice on how to play. Think of it like bonding. To think, you wouldn't have gotten to have this fun time together if you didn't show him!

60s

He doesn't Get It at first. Video games are... strange to him. He understands the concept and even the technical science of them! Eventually he'll liken them to movies that you have interaction in. That's it, isn't it? He could see the appeal of that.

For the genius that he is, he thinks you scoured to find a game that looks like the two of you. Coincidence! How funny! Delightful, pretty thing, that they look just like you and him.

When you explain you did this yourself, he's wildly impressed. Just how did you do it? It's a feature? And you can spend hours doing this? Oh yes, yes, this is interesting.

Then he's grinning. How long were you staring at him to get everything just right? You must really find him handsome. He understands, he'd also want to look at you all day long given the option.

Capullo/Zero Year

Flattered! He's almost peacocking around, fluffing himself out that you would want to recreate his image to look at him even more often than you already do. HOWEVER- He stares a little longer at the screen.

Hm. Nope. Move over. He needs to fix some things. Not just on his, on yours too. His is alright, some minor tweaks and it'll look almost as handsome as he is. Yours... Much too harsh on yourself.

Statistics say our perception of ourselves is much harsher than the reality. Well, for other people, not him. You didn't capture the best qualities of your face and body. Not to worry, he'll fix that for you :) THEN you can play with him occasionally staring over your shoulder wanting attention.

BTAS

You're showing him a video game? He's interested not only because you like it, but he really appreciates seeing coding and how programs work when they aren't his. Even if they are subpar to his own work.

Imagine his surprise when you show him the customization feature! That's him! He's asking a lot of questions about the options available. Then praising you for doing such a wonderful job recreating him. He'll tease that you certainly have the details of his appearance locked away in your mind, don't you?

It gives him ideas for any future projects HE might want to make. Customization, yes, but he thinks he could make a player character or NPC that resembles you perfectly. Your image carved into the stone of electric coding for all time.

No, he doesn't make a lot of games now considering his current career but... It is an idea he's putting on a shelf for later. Very important.

Telltale

You're really going to waste your time on something like this? Is what he asks when you tell him you're showing him a game. Aren't there better things to do with your time? Pretty much griping the entire time.

"...Is that me?" and he's scowling at the screen for a moment. A sigh. Then he kisses your cheek, "You don't need a recreation when the real thing is right here, you know." Obviously you did this because you miss him. It's almost sad.

As you try to explain that's not it- That you just really think it's cute, he smirks, "Of course you do. Who wouldn't want to recreate the image of their God when there's absence of His light?"

You are not going to live this down, so don't even try. He will bring this up when you least expect it. It's very affectionate at his part. He knows why you actually did it, your face is just very cute when it's flustered and frustrated.

Arkham

He's actually kind of touched? Just when he was getting worried and concerned that no one was paying attention to his greatness- Here you are with an offering of your devotion. Don't think he's going to be sweet about this, however, no, no.

You SHOULD be focused on him and making him in your games. It comes off a bit ungrateful, but you're likely used to this with him by now. The only thing you might notice is that he compliments your work on it sincerely. Can they interact? It would be.... cute if they kissed or something.

He'll likely try to include your image hidden somewhere in a crime that has him written all over it. You know. Devoted to you!

2022/Nashton

Ohhhhh my god you made HIM, you love him, you want him to be in every aspect of your life even the digital world. He is obsessed. He didn't tell you yet because what if you thought it was creepy but he's been doing the same thing for you! Of course;;; his games have things like Wicked Whims installed. Especially if you aren't there yet.

He's the guy that if you can get him into animal crossing, he wants to visit your island and send you letters with rare items CONSTANTLY. Your two little avatars interacting. He thinks it's romantic that even when you two aren't actively hanging out, you still want to see him and have a version of "him" around.

All the single player games where you made the two of you, you'll find he's watching a lot as you play. how are you interacting the characters together. Is his animated counterpart doing what you want him to do? He might get a little bit jealous but won't say anything. What if the digital version is your idealized version of him that he can't match up with?

#gotham riddler #btas riddler #60s riddler #arkham riddler #2022 riddler #telltale riddler #zero year riddler #suggestive #smut

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alolantikibar · 9 months ago

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While the train oyaji hyperfixation is back in full swing, I wanted to post some snippets of a fic that I've been working on in bits and pieces. (Otherwise I know I'll have a hard time finding motivation to finish it, lmfao.)

The idea behind the fic was to write a bunch of dreams that Ingo has, while also incorporating a Dusknoir in many of them. Dusknoir is one of my favorite Pokemon and this particular Pokedex entry stood out to me:

"It is said to take lost spirits into its pliant body and guide them home."

Some snippets from the fic are under the readmore. :)

Dusknoir do not make their home in the Coronet Highlands.

Ingo thinks he’s seeing things at first. Hallucinating, even. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

A faint red light that pulses as it floats through the maze of birch trees, getting easier to see as the more Ingo stays out past the time he really should be getting back inside.

Time passes. Ingo begins to see an outline when he sees that red orb. Then faint bands of gold. A distended chesire face. He starts to recognize what the apparition is, piecing together tiny scraps of his memory until he remembers such a Pokemon. Drawing upon the buried knowledge that’s allowed him to survive out here for this long. It’s sheer frightening presence causes Pokemon to exert more energy when battling…

Ingo reasons that it must be curious more than anything if it hasn’t attempted to harm him yet. There’s been plenty of opportunities where Ingo had his back turned even while knowing that looming presence was nearby. He’s found that many Pokemon here tend to get curious about the one human soul living this far deep into the Highlands.

The ghost seems braver some days. Like it wants to get close. Ingo would gladly welcome it should it choose to do so- he finds he has a fondness for ghosts that he can’t quite explain. But then it begins watching Ingo from further and further away, until some weeks pass and Ingo hasn’t caught sight of the lone Dusknoir again. A part of him starts missing seeing it there staring at him from afar each time he went to forage and collect firewood.

A hallucination. Yes, it must have been. Ingo shaves another layer of wood off the carving in his hands, drawing out sharp zigs-and-zags with a small blade. A chesire face stares back up at him. Even if he imagined it, he still wants to create a physical memento for it. Maybe he’ll remember more eventually.

---------

Ingo dreams of ice and snow. He dreams of sheer mountain cliffs. Many nights he does not dream at all. A good nights sleep is imperative for staying alert and being able to safely operate. He’s thankful that he sleeps well at all, given how many nights he would lay awake in a cold sweat when he first arrived here. He could sacrifice pleasant dreams for sleep.

Something changes. Maybe he’s finally exhausted himself, given how late he finds himself sleeping in nowadays. Ingo starts to dream strange things. The line between being merely a spectator in his dreams and feeling as though he’s lucid begins to blur.

He starts to wake up in cold sweats again.

---------

It’s dark, minus a dim blue light that shines off in the distance. It does little to illuminate Ingo’s immediate surroundings. His fingers feel below him and the ground feels coarse, cold, solid. It’s not a cave then. Still, he shouldn’t rule out the possibility of there being not-too-friendly Pokemon in a place this dark.

He’s more concerned with getting his way over to that light than he is thinking about how he got here in the first place. A strange impulse that tells him that is more important.

Ingo’s hand presses against the ground blindly until it touches something solid, something familiar. His fingers wrap around the object and he knows immediately that it’s a torch. Well, that’s convenient, if not a bit strange.

He grabs the torch and drags it near to him so that he does not lose it’s position while he continues feeling against the ground. There’s nothing else nearby.

No way to light the torch then. Ingo looks back to the light that beckons him from afar. There’s no telling what lies between where he is now and that light.

Ingo begins fumbling in his coat pockets (what did he come here with? he can't seem to remember, normally he would be much more prepared) for something to light the torch with. If only he had a lighter...

What is a lighter?

Ingo shakes his head. Not important now.

Something tells him he should snap his fingers. A muscle memory that seems to conjure flames in his mind. Flames in a dizzying array of purple hues.

Ingo brings his thumb and middle finger together, their calloused pads making a loud snap that echoes in the dark. But nothing happens.

He snaps again. Snap.

The inferno is so vivid in his mind- roaring past him with furiosity, but Ingo stands without flinching, sure of his tactics, sure of his partner-

He snaps once more. Nothing happens. Foolish to think that would do anything. He can't safely navigate in these conditions. He'll have to figure something else out. Ingo takes the torch into his hand and rises from the ground. He begins swinging the torch in front of him, trying to see what barriers it may hit. It hits air and nothing more. Ingo cautiously takes a step forward, making sure the tips of his shoes connect with something before following with his heel.

A few steps. The torch swings and hits nothing. Another few steps. No walls nearby. Ingo lifts his foot once more to go forward and freezes as he realizes there is nothing there to step on. He quickly steps backwards but loses his footing.

A split second of panic, not knowing what lies beneath him, until he manages to prevent himself from falling forwards. Ingo grunts as he hits the ground and scrapes his palms. The torch slips from his grasp and makes a sound that echoes along the walls when it hits the ground. It echoes and echoes through the darkness, and Ingo holds his breath. If he’s not alone here, something heard that noise.

---------

Ingo wakes in a field of grass.

He can feel cold droplets of dew on his hands. His eyes open and he sees nothing but stars. He lays there for a moment, adjusting to the sensation of being wet and tickled by grass moving with the breeze. As Ingo slowly becomes more lucid, he realizes this place is familiar from the view of the stars alone.

Ingo rises to his feet and wipes a few stray dew droplets off of his coat. As his hand runs across the fabric, he realizes that it’s not torn in it’s usual places. No, it’s as untarnished as the day he first found himself in Hisui. Perhaps he is reliving the memory of waking up in this place. The feelings he felt that night begin to creep up inside him. His fingers clench at his sleeve as the world seems to stop for a moment. Ingo can only hear the hammering of his heart.

The breeze kicks up into a sudden gust, pulling Ingo from his thoughts. No, this isn’t quite the same then. The breeze was gentle that night. Tranquil, even. The little details come back to him in pieces. He spent many hours just sitting there in that field of grass, trying to understand where he was, how he got here, who he was.

Ingo begins walking, trying to ignore the cold sweat he seems to have broken into. There is something different here, and he wants to find out what it is. The grass sways gently now, the wind no longer as strong as it was a moment ago. The grass seems to stretch for miles, grass that comes up to his knees and makes him continuously look down to ensure he’s stepping somewhere solid.

There are only sparse clouds in the sky that touch the peaks of the mountains off in the distance, and it’s thankfully a full moon. He has a vague memory of there being a sky where the amount of stars that could be seen paled in comparison to what he sees now.

#tiki writes #warden ingo #ingo #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon fanfiction #fanfiction #sfw #subway boss ingo #nobori

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forjustice · 7 months ago

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Just before the Johto Moon Festival closed for the year...

N and Pokémon adoption centers--these two things were as inseparable as the two O atoms in oxygen. How strange it was, then, that he failed to make an appearance at the Moon Festival's adoption bazar, but it was not without reason. Toward the beginning of the Festival, his Carracosta's shell had gotten cracked, requiring immediate medical attention, and he would not leave his side until the poor prehistoric turtle was fit for discharge from the Pokémon Center. Unfortunately for him, this didn't happen until that evening. Which meant that if he wanted to pick up a Pokémon, he had to act fast.

One of his relatives in the sprawling web of the Volo family had mentioned what was there oh so casually--oh, yeah, did you hear? There's a bunch of Pokémon at the adoption bazar from Unova. You know how Handsome Ditto got banned in Contests there? Well, a bunch of them ended up in shelters and--And he was on his way, blitzing through the streets on the back of Reshiram toward the remainder of the festival. He slowed only to pay the entrance fee for that day, then zoomed past the attendant before she could fully get out the "Mind you, there's only five minutes before the festival closes"--he didn't care. Reshiram flew through the festival grounds at speeds that would make an Officer Jenny hop on her motorbike in hot pursuit, powered by the Fusion Flare lighting up their engine-like tail.

@onlyheartaches' Quicksilver, the fastest being in the world? No, it's N and his Pokémon, when they're on their way to pick up a new Poké-pal!

"I think that's Nathanael," Volo said to her family as she walked with Amaya and the children back toward the entrance, narrowing her eyes in concern as she saw the unholy blaze that that dragon was giving off. "Nathanael--"

But N didn't even hear his name being said as Reshiram slammed into her chest, knocking the wind out of her and sending her careening past the rest of her family.

"NATHANAEL!" Volo screamed as she breathed in, head spinning, her whole body pinned to the Legendary's chest with its speed. "STOP THIS INSTANT!"

"You're not stopping me!" N had to shout over the wind that Reshiram has kicked up with their speed. "I'm a man on a mission!"

And that mission was fulfilled when they descended like a wildfire on the adoption bazar. Reshiram screeched to a stop at its gates at 8:59 P.M., dumping Volo unceremoniously at the feet of the same attendant who suspected her of being a full kitsune and who had to deal with Allie being her bratty self.

That poor woman. Haven't my muses put her through enough?

"We're almost closed," she said. "Is there something you want, sir?"

N pointed to the Handsome Dittos remaining in the field.

"I WANT FIFTY."

The woman stared at him, flabbergasted. Somehow she could tell he wasn't actually completely kidding.

"We, er, we only have three left," she said.

"Then I want three. I'll take your entire stock," he said, with no idea of volume control or how intense he was being. Pokémon were one of his hyperfixations, and the autism had him by the throat.

The lady continued to stare. On one hand, what the fuck. On the other hand, the remaining Dittos had shapeshifted into Zoroark—picking up perfectly on the evolutionary line that N is a Pokésouled of—and had begun to strut and preen. They saw that almighty ball of flame nyooming toward them faster than it would through a whole clearing full of dry brush, its rider hoping to take them home. And that boosted their confidence more than anything else! Of course they’d want to go with this dude, are you kidding?

“Allow me to explain, if you have any reservations," N said, straightening proudly as he began to monologue about the beauty of his passion. "My full name is Nathanael Harmonia Asimov, but you may recognize me as N. While I have to admit that some of my past actions in the defense of Pokémon's rights have been...questionable, my desire to help them has always been unparalleled. There is nothing more bitter to my ears than the sound of Pokémon from any version of Unova being so callously abandoned as these handsomest of Ditto were--" the Ditto look even more pleased at the praise--"and yet nothing sweeter to my heart than giving these Pokémon a home. As a Unovan, especially a Native one, how can I not fulfill my solemn duty to help any Pokémon from my homeland--whatever version of it in the universe it may be?"

Slowly, Volo picked herself back up off the ground; though she was in human form, she shook herself off much like a fox would to get the dirt out of its fur--which didn't do much to correct the attendant's nagging suspicion of her.

"He's a relative of mine. I can vouch for him," she said, not aware that she wasn't exactly helping.

There were a few more moments of awkward stares before somebody noticed.

"The festival has already closed. Is everything all right?" another festival attendant called, heading over. Two choices: Either a no or a yes. She had to make a decision. Now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” the lady muttered under her breath as she looked down, but soon gave the other attendant a thumbs up and put a smile back on her face—especially because the Ditto seemed to be smiling too. One of them was even giving her puppy eyes, having sensed her hesitation--trying to persuade her with a "pleeeeeeeeeeease?" Pokémon loving these two despite the fact they could be so off-putting must run in the family.

“Well, they certainly seem interested in you, sir,” she said. “And we did make it our goal to adopt out every last Pokémon in these fields before the festival ended. You are….quite passionate about these Ditto. And while I must strongly urge you never to speed through Festival grounds like that again, EVER, I hope that passion will inspire you to give them the homes they deserve."

With that, she handed over the adoption paperwork. N pulled out the necessary fees from his wallet, with the most "shut up and take my money" meme energy he's ever had.

"You know, you could have just gone back to Unova to adopt some," Volo grumbled as they walked toward the exit, still sore over being body slammed and then dumped on the grass like a pile of old clothes.

He was going to get several speeding tickets for this, but it was so, so worth it.

#johtomoonfest2024 #cannot believe this is his debut on my blog #nine tales of liberation. || nathanael harmonia asimov #was gonna post this much sooner but mom sniped me #scion of stories and maker of myths. || volo

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minty-playhouse · 2 years ago

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Explaining Nesmith/Townshend or A Primer on Townsmith

Dear friends and enemies... (and specifically @gitsor3010 and @smugruttle if you guys didn't want me to ping you, you shouldn't have liked my drabble, rookie mistake)

Recently I posted a drabble here regarding my very specific and niche ship of Mike Nesmith and Pete Townshend, motivated in part by @yaggerdangs-remedy shared enthusiasm for it (love you for that by the way, if you are reading this <3). I also posted another small thing on my NSFW sideblog, because of course I did.

Surprisingly, that first drabble seemed to have caught the attention of more than one person, so I guess it's my civil duty to explain where the hell this ship even came from, and also tell you all about dynamics and whatnot about this ship so I can maybe convince you all of my truth!

This post might get long though so I'm putting this all under a read more. [spoilers: this post did get long it's like 3,000 words long I'm sorry]

=Quick Background:

To start explaining Townsmith we need to go way way back to when I was 19 (over 15 years ago!) and I became obsessed with The Monkees and The Who almost simultaneously. The Monkees came first but it took just a couple months at best for me to also grow very attached to The Who.

Obviously, as a very normal person, I wanted to write about crossovers involving them, and even entertained the idea of a TV show centered crossover that was inspired by the small trivia about how there was like a glimmer of a thought of making a Who TV show but nothing came of it (but honestly can u IMAGINE mod era Who TV show?).

At the time thought, I didn't have enough writing skills to pull off anything of real substance, and the crossover ideas were more silly fanfic concepts than anything. I still have some of those early writings saved but they are very poor quality, but they still have some good ideas I pull from now and then.

In the middle of all this crossover musing, I felt really strongly about Mike/Pete, and at the time it was more of a surface level "they would look nice together and they are both weird" thing than whatever monster I created in my head now. I dunno exactly what pushed me in that direction. Me not being too invested in Towntrey at the time was probably to blame, as I was too busy shipping Roger with John. But I guess I unconsciously felt bad for Pete and wanted him to have someone he could bond with.

I also didn't have any Mike ships at the time, as I was hyperfixated in Jonestork and Micky was just the fun friend. So I just put them together for convenience. Oh, that was such a foolish mistake on my part and I had no idea.

=First Big Townsmith Idea:

OK, cool, now we've established this came from me not wanting them to be alone + they had some traits that matched. They are both tall, lanky weird guitar players who are a little too invested in their music to the point is a little strange to those around them.

And from that concept came the idea to write about Pete and Mike meeting by chance at a party, getting smashed and fucking. There wasn't much beyond that at the time, and because I didn't have the skills to pull off anything really that cool (I wanted them to be tripped out and whatnot, but lack of resources and knowledge at the time made this just some distant thought).

But that small seed was stuck in the back of my brain, waiting for when all things fell into place, I would be prepared.

The years passed, ships and fandoms came and went, and I became better at writing and better at expressing what I wanted through my fics. But I never really returned to Who or Monkees as strongly as I did when I was 19. I still listened to the music and whatnot, but for no reason in my mind I had put myself above RPF. No, I wouldn't go down that path again, I told myself for years and years...

Then last year happened and all of it went to shit.

Honestly I just doubled down on the RPF in ways my 19 year old self would never even dream of, and by digging through my old notes and ideas, I stumbled upon Pete/Mike again.

Now older and with more knowledge about both of them, in my head I was like "Yeah, they are fucking soulmates there's no way" and went back to the idea of them meeting and tripping and having no strings attached sex. But oh boy are there strings attached to this. Are there ever strings attached to this. But I think it was important to let you all know the basis where I built this on. It was a one-shot idea I had when I was like 19 and wanted to fill a ship gap. You can't make this shit up.

=Townsmith Makes Sense Chronologically And I Hate It:

It would be all funny and haha if I didn't start to expand on the original one-shot concept. I could just make it extremely anachronistic and just leave it at that. It's just a mindless smut one-shot, after all. But hey, if I have the tools now to research and make this make more sense chronologically (trust me the Internet was not like this when I was 19) why not use those tools?

So, I found that the ideal point for the one-shot. 1969. Pete just found himself being hailed as some kind of musical genius for coming up with Tommy, while Mike is struggling to keep himself interested in the Monkees concept in a post-Head climate. Mike was never the biggest fan of the Monkees as a concept, and by the time the movie rolled out his interest had waned considerably. He wanted to do his own stuff, he didn't want to be tied to this marketing stunt.

But hey, Mike's still under contract so for all intents and purposes, he has to keep up appearances.

And he heard about Pete. Everyone heard about him at this point. And Mike has to admit he's jealous. Pete had the type of creative freedom Mike could only dream of at the time. However, Mike is still Mike and he isn't about to be all in awe and amazed by some British musician that just "got lucky". In the initial concept, this all started off with Mike being very envious of Pete's position, but also thinking that Pete was also pulling publicity stunts of his own, why with the Who's whole live aggression and whatnot. And that notion just becomes more solidified in his mind when he meets Pete and he's... quiet. Almost shy even.

There's no way a guy like this is the same guy that is up there on stage. Maybe Mike was wrong and maybe music was all based on carefully curated personas.

The problem is, Pete is who he is. Yes his stage "persona" is not the exactly the same as his regular one, but right now he's in a post Mod mindset. He doesn't have to care for an image or a persona.

Mike still needs to hang on to that.

And when Mike meets Pete he is not impressed. Obviously. But he still wants to hear what Pete has to say. After all he did write Tommy and Mike is intrigued (and this plays out later, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

So they drop acid and talk, as one does, and at first Mike has all the confidence in the world. Yeah sure this meek British man has some words on him. Beautiful, deep meaningful words, but his behavior is a far cry from the explosiveness Mike saw on the TV and such. He can handle Pete.

Mike so cannot handle Pete.

At the same time Mike is envious of Pete's position, there's some borderline envy on Pete's end. Oh, if only he could just let other people just think for him. Do all the heavy lifting of music creation on his behalf while he just stood there as an avatar. Sounded pretty ideal, and specially during Tommy where Pete was under tremendous creative stress, trying to do something that was similar yet different from things that came before.

Still though, Pete wouldn't give up his creative freedom for the sake of some stress relief. Even in the early mod era days, he was quick to seize creative control over things, and that's what I think is the most interesting aspect of them: they are both very intent on being in control of their creative endeavors, but Pete was blessed with the opportunity to be free to do what he wanted. Mike's creative freedom was quickly stripped from him when he joined the Monkees and since then it was an uphill struggle for any of them to get any of it back. A journey that had started almost two years prior with Headquarters.

But now the TV show was over, the movie had just been released and Mike found himself in this weird position where yes, he was still under a contract but... was he really? He could set off to do his own thing.

And this is where the strings get attached folks.

=A Much Needed Recap:

OK, so let's recap because that was disorienting: 1969 was a weird year for both Mike and Pete. Mike was in this weird place where he was still part of the Monkees but not really, and Pete was hailed as a visionary and saw his band become ridiculously successful almost overnight (like it or not, the Woodstock performance sure brought in the numbers).

Right now Mike's jealous of Pete's position, Pete is not jealous of Mike's position but he would appreciate having someone thinking on his behalf here and there. And when they meet Mike has this "Mike" mindset where he's by default better than Pete. It doesn't matter what Pete's achievements are, he's still gonna be better because that's just how Mike's brain works.

Pete on the other hand is just kinda glad to have someone to talk that's on the same wavelength as him. He loves his bandmates to death, but sometimes Pete feels like everything he's saying is just going over their heads. He doesn't feel like that when talking to Mike.

((Now is a good time as any to mention that while I'm trying to center this around the original first meeting one-shot concept, there are other angles to them meeting for the first time, but let's stick to one continuity for the sake of this post and your sanity. If you are dying to know you can just send me an ask and I'll talk about it.))

So yeah, Pete feels that he can just say things to Mike, and Mike will get it, which doesn't sound like a lot but for someone who's mind is so full like Pete having someone understand is a fucking gift. And sure maybe they are just a little more "attuned" because they are tripping together, but Pete feels that even if they weren't Mike would get it.

And sure Mike may not understand like half of what Pete's saying, but he'll still fake it 'till he makes it. Mike doesn't care this is Pete Townshend, he'll not be seen as dumber or inferior in any way.

And I think that's one of the most compelling aspects of them, is they they bond mentally way before physicality is even taken into consideration. But the physicality is taken into consideration for sure because lest we forget, this was born under the premise of a horny one-shot. And Mike would be a liar if he said he didn't find Pete's strange looks kind of... fetching in their own unique way.

Maybe because Mike doesn't think he's conveniently attractive either (doesn't help he had to go up against fucking Davy Jones and Peter Tork, and Micky's energy alone made him irresistible) he finds some manner of solace on Pete who's also weird looking, but it's more that Mike was against some stiff competition and less that he isn't good looking. And hello, Pete can totally tell he looks good, and that his accent is pretty damn charming.

=Physical Attraction? In My Conceptual Sex?

OK since I am here I have to talk about them being attracted to each other on a physical level too because heck, they are only human.

Pete likes Mike's accent and the way he talks. He thinks Mike's Texan accent is very charming and kinda hot a bit, maybe. Pete isn't very used to this type of accent very much so it gets to him real easily.

Mike also likes Pete's accent but because he's so soothing and mild when he talks. Mike had to live with the day by day life of being next to Davy Jones of all people so his opinion on British people and their accents soured a bit (no shade to Davy, I love the lil' guy but he's just so overbearing sometimes akjfgakjfg). But Pete changed that idea.

Also, also, Mike being in love with Pete's gorgeous electric blue eyes because of course Pete's blue eyes are a factor why wouldn't they be a factor in a Pete ship like c'mon! And don't even get me started on Mike going bananas about Pete calling him by his full name, which is very much A Thing for this ship like there's a whole different weight when Pete says "Mike" and when he says "Michael" and anyone familiar enough with Pete (specially '69 Pete) could tell you that.

But yeah, it starts off with Mike trying to one-up Pete when he has no idea what he's going up against, but somewhere along the way they end up finding common ground, make out and while they don't want to make it A Thing (they don't want this to be a relationship they literally just met and dropped acid and fucked this is not basis for any solid relationship) there's no denying that they have this very serious connection going on, so they decide to keep some degree of contact after their meeting. You know, just in case.

That is of course until they find themselves calling each other on a regular basis, and Mike sharing music stuff with Pete, and finding it in himself that yeah, he can also just do his own thing, fuck you.

And look I'm not saying that Mike's sudden creative burst with the First National Band was influenced by him having mind blowing sex with Pete Townshend while high off his mind and bonding with him and sharing creative ideas with him, but I am saying that the first two National Band albums were released in '70 and Tengo Amore is there so I rest my case.

=Only I Do Not Rest My Case Because The Prison Exists

I promise you all this is the last section of this!

So they remain A Thing. Pete and Mike are sharing creative thoughts over letters and phone calls, and having nasty (yet somehow still very soft) sex when either of them has like a second to spare from their daily lives to fly over and visit.

Because now Mike's trying to make up for lost time and release every song he didn't release for the past like three-four years in one-two and Pete's influence just fuels that fire. And Pete is now expected to live up to Tommy's expectations so it's not like he has time to spare either but Mike's excitement and different approach to music is refreshing and a much needed respite during Pete's creative process.

Mike hears Pete talk about the concept of Quadrophenia, and Mike becomes enamored with the idea of a narrative told through music. Sure when he heard of/listened to Tommy it was already an idea in the back of his mind, but it wasn't like he could just do something like that.

But now it's '72-'73 and all bets are off.

Pete is glad that he has someone to talk to about the more intricate concepts of music making, but he's also excited when he hears from Mike that he wants to pursue something similar. Mike knows that whatever he does is not going to compare to whatever Pete's doing. Pete had years to prepare for this. Mike is just now given this big freedom so he's just doing stuff and hoping something will stick.

Is Mike still jealous of Pete? Maybe, but at this point it has become more friendly rivalry than anything. (look Mike finally learned he doesn't need to be top dog in every little thing to be worthy of value)

Mike still goes through with it, the success of Quad emboldening him to keep going. There's clearly a market for whatever Pete's doing and Mike finds it refreshing and reassuring.

Then '74 rolls out and The Prison comes out (and honestly, in my eyes it's one of Mike's finest works, I'm always blown away by how good it is, and honestly I always forget this album is 70's because it sounds so much more "modern" and I don't know how to explain it).

Pete is excited to hear about it when it comes out (Mike was sure to call him the day before the release so he wouldn't forget!!!) and from them on they just keep in touch. They aren't dating (at least not in this timeline of this ship) but they sure as hell have a connection that they maintain throughout the years.

So yeah chronologically speaking this all somehow makes sense, isn't that weird?

#the who #the monkees #mike nesmith #pete townshend #I tried to explain this the best way I can for both Monkees people who know nothing about Who #and Who people who know nothing about Monkees #but it's very hard to explain unless you've been consuming those two bands simultaneously like me #with the same intensity #townsmith #I'll make that a tag sure

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nicely-done · 11 months ago

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kinda thinking about stuff based on a sort of weird ask an artist I follow got

The ask was basically a “how come I can’t make a fandom around this new story you did” bc the artist is selling a sort of abstraction of their own experiences as a comic using what they enjoy

don’t think I gotta explain how rude that actually is, and I’m not writing this as a “oh I’m so much better” type thought

But having been on tumblr I had interacted within fandoms, but I don’t really recall any of them, it was mainly ask blogs, and I even created a few short lived ones bc it just wasn’t interesting for me (and one case where the only other person who knew about the obscure anime went and drew cp of one of the main characters so? I was gone. Can’t enjoy that anymore, really wish I could. But I have that image burned in my mind and when I confronted them they refused by the “technically an adult” excuse even though this was a character shown at different ages, weird how they wouldn’t use the adult version but they didn’t like me saying that.)

The only real “fandom” I’ve ever actually been concretely into is Pokémon, but after I grew up more I didn’t make original characters who were Pokémon, and while I tried to rp I didn’t understand how it worked, so I mostly made up stories for myself that were just things I wanted, where Pokémon was the vehicle and medium

I enjoy creating aus for things I like if it works? But I wouldn’t say I’m a fandom person. The way tumblr(the culture of a portion of the site) looks at fandom has always been strange to me, even as I hyperfixate. I kind of thought something was wrong with me…? Like was I consuming media wrong? I don’t ship often, or think too far into headcanons, I mainly take it apart and see what info is in the media. I may draw conclusions but often this is done by myself

Often I’ll sort of enjoy something, maybe even love it, have a phase and then move on- if I talk about it w others it’s via analyzing it or just being excited about it, seeking out fanart… (blocking ppl who are Annoying or doing a They Would Not Fucking Say That or a weird version of the character that is bastardized)

If I put it in statistical terms it’s like I interpolate data (information) instead of extrapolate… like I go between points of info instead of going too far outside of the story, maybe because I’ve only ever seen one exploration of the concept that actually worked- one random disco elysium fic that essentially made its own new case for Kim and harry. Some things were a lil clumsy, but they actually were very careful w balancing characterization, themes, and ideas to create something new that wasn’t alienating. It was nice to finally understand how people talk about good fanfics. But uh, I avoided fanfic bc they usually alienated me due to inconsistencies or focused on shipping or a specific idea that didn’t really mesh

Idk, I have stories I hold dear to me, but fandom ocs usually either sorta die off or are adapted to a regular oc. I can make the number of ships I enjoy on one hand… I just like stories

#edited to fix random phone fuckups

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theshrimpgod · 2 years ago

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I definitely have a normal amount of hyperfixation for a franchise I've never watched

So I made a chucky oc!

His name's Jack

He's a like. Copycat killer kinda? (I use the term "killer" very loosely but it's what he'd call himself so)

Idk how to explain his story super well but I will try lol

He's uhh.17 and *obsessed* w true crime, especially the qhole "killer possessed good guy doll" thing! And since voodoo for dummies and stuff like that is all freely available, he was able to figure out how it ("it" being a posessed doll) could have been done and decided to do it himself!

Which, might seem like a strange decision, but sometimes turning yourself into a living doll so you can kill your bullies seems like a reasonable idea. I don't know I just made the character lol

He got his outfit from like. Ball joint doll makers/he made some of the clothes himself! Doesn't make a *ton* of sense but I thought a different outfit would be a fun way to differentiate his design from the more generic good guy doll outfit! His overalls still say "good guy" on them though, because idk why not!

Man idk why I struggle with explaining my idea for his character/story, but yeah! I hope this makes sense

#chucky #chucky oc #original character #my art #art #digital art

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dervampireprince · 1 year ago

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I don’t think I can properly explain how much comfort your characters give me-especially Arden and Ambrose!!!

I have a little headcanon that the both of them would be a huge help if they found out their partner is experiencing a sensory overload and I just wanted to nerd about it for a moment-/pos

I like to think that Ambrose would treat his partner similarly to how open he was about pet regression and age regression. Whatever they need, he will try to make happen. If they don’t know what’s happening he’ll explain it a bit. And still try to help them. If that includes just helping ground them with textures, like squeezing their hands, stroking their hair, or breathing with them. Would also encourage stimming-especially if it helps his partner. If his partner is on the brink of tears I can imagine him asking them if they just want to be held for a moment. Or curl up in bed to reintroduce good sensations instead of bad, just laying in a bunch of pillows and his partner trying to almost breath in the smell that is just Ambrose to ground themselves whilst he strokes their hair.

For Arden I like to think he’d help in the different way of limiting uncomfortable stimulation and reducing it with comforting foods, drinks, and textures. Making his partner a cup of tea, just the way his partner enjoys it-bringing a sense of familiarity which helps sort of begin to ground them. Entirely self indulgent one here but-transforming and letting his partner completely bury themselves into his fur. Finding comfort in the texture, and using it to block out sound-attempting to distract their other senses. I also like the idea of Arden encouraging stimming as well, especially if it’s vocal stims. To try and make his partner comfortable he’ll answer some of their stims with sounds of his own. Like a form of wordless communication!

If both of them were to try and help-I don’t think either method would change but more so they’d bounce off each other nicely. Soon enough their partner is beginning to stim happily instead of out of stress, and the vocal stims have now been joined with excited squeaks and giggles.

Anyways-yeah very self indulgent but mama is hyperfixated and wanted to share with the class! /pos

-L.J.L

i'm really glad anything i've made has given you comfort, though it's strange and a little uncomfortable to be told information about my own characters that i didn't make up. anyone's free to have their headcannons about my ocs, i'd just rather not be told them because it's most likely that your headcannons aren't accurate and i don't want to upset anyone by shooting down their headcannons because you're allowed to have non-canon-accurate headcannons, there's no thought crimes here, i just don't want to lie and affirm things about my characters that aren't true so i'd prefer to not be directly told about headcannons i think in the future. for example i've got headcannons about character's from games and movies but wouldn't tell the creators about them, i know i'm just a small creator and not a big author or director, but i imagine everyone feels a bit awkward if they're told 'i think your character would do this' when i think they wouldn't.

please enjoy thinking of my characters comforting you if it helps, i just don't want to be told specific headcannons. though cannonically they wouldn't go about things in the way you describe, there's nothing wrong with you imagining such things.

#the vampire answers #L.J.L

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tiny-idiot-in-a-tinier-bucket · 2 months ago

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✨💖Positivity chain! List 5 to 10 things that make you smile and explain why! Then send this to others to let them know they make you smile✨💖

I was thought of! Strange! But good! Thank ya, thank ya.

1.) You. <3 (self-explanatory)

2.) Stuffed animals. I recently was given a Vaporeon plushie and I did not let go of him until hours later and that was only because my friend was about to cry and I thought a stuffed animal would help. His name is Radiator.

3.) Gifts. It can be anything. I will immediately treasure it forever and every single bit of wear will be thought of as beautiful and given meaning. I have a Slytherin jacket that my godmother gave me when I was really young that the rats I had at the time ate parts of and I immediately said that the rat holes made me love it more because it was their gift to me combined with a gift from one of my favourite people in the world.

4.) Walks and drives. I love them. I am an anxious creature. I need enrichment. Give me time outside in a way that is contained inside of a private area or does not have anyone else near me within at least a few hundred metres. Please and thank you.

5.) New foods. Give me the thing I can only barely pronounce and I have almost zero idea what the ingredients are of. Give me the one, singular thing I have never eaten before. I want that one. I don't actually like eating much, but I love cooking and new experiences, so. New Thing makes eating much better.

6.) Drinks. Especially novelty drinks. If I could have a nutrient block I eat every day to maintain my health and then otherwise eat as a hobby and drink my little drinks, I would. I love drinks. Best form of flavour. Horchata, mangonada, mango lassi, bubble tea, London fogs, chai lattes, lemonade, cranberry juice, energy drinks, novelty sodas... I absolutely adore drinks and it probably has to do with my obsession with Taste and absolute virulent hatred of most Texture In Mouth feelings.

7.) Rain. It just makes me happy. It's cold, puts pressure on my joints in a way that relieves pain, smells good, looks pretty, and just makes me happy. I also like the way it feels on my skin.

8.) Music. In general. All the time. I love music. Music is so baby. Also just a very large hyperfixation that does take up a large part of my time pretty consistently.

9.) My friends in general, including familial members and pets. If you were to make a drinking game out of how many times I mention how much I love those specific people, you would inevitably die of alcohol poisoning. I do it quite often and in particularly great detail. I love them all so much. They deserve all of the world and I really wish I could do more. You included, Vi, you must understand.

10.) My silly little stories in my silly little medias. I get the biggest, dumbest grin on my face when I look at my different fictional medias. It does not leave my face for quite a while despite the fact that I have resting bitch face and often don't actually visibly show my emotions until prompted to by social interaction. With fictional media in specific, I will often start giggling to myself while completely alone, which actually doesn't happen all that often, even when talking to friends through messaging features.

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avesomnia-inhoramortis · 6 months ago

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[ooc] would you mind especially if i utilized a bit of the ideas around your trina-as-white-king rumination for the express purpose of miquellatrina exploration fic?

Go for it and feel free to tag me when it's done!!!

Admittedly a lot of my attempts to cram Miquella into the alchemical marriage are a little hamfisted, but figuring out what Trina is in relation to Miquella and Malenia is interesting. Because Marika is the White Queen, and Radagon is the relevant Red King. They have kids. The curse of their... how do I phrase this, selfcestuous union? Anyway, they end up with twin children: a White King and a Red Queen. Venus as a boy and Mars as a woman.

So whatever Trina is in relation to Miquella, she is not the same thing as Radagon. She is not a Red Queen. I like experimenting with writing her as such, but she's not- most of the textual references to her involve people chasing her down.

Saint Trina might have some hope or guidance to share, but most of her "activity" I extrapolated from where her lilies are located. The one thing we could solidly say she Does, soothe the merchants, comes from a cut questline. By contrast, it is much easier to read her as a passive figure- she's a princess in a tower, like Marika, Rennala, and Ranni. All of them are absolutely strong queens who take no shit and no prisoners, but you must admit they are characterized by a certain lack of agency that requires a knight-errant. A Lord, a Mars, someone who will kill for them.

But then if we're talking genders and alchemy- what would it even mean to be a White King? I'd need to do more studying to take a proper crack at answering that. I think there's something to be said for Miquella's strange combination of abundance and infertility- he keeps trying to give birth to things, in one way or another, that either never come to fruition or die stillborn. The Haligtree is dead, its womb ripped open, Elphael is covered in cocoons still occupied by the bodies of his followers, arrested in whatever they were becoming. Conversely, even if it's not conventional, Malenia almost can't stop giving birth- she transforms her knights, she explodes into multiple buds, there are numerous pests in Caelid who feel abandoned because she's supposed to be their mother. Miquella wants to be a god and has no children, Malenia does not want to be a god and has unwanted children. There might be something to that, particularly if a god is meant to be feminine. Miquella is, after all, the odd one out in a group of primarily women.

But he rejects that femininity to become a god, and that's interesting. The way it was framed in the trailer, Trina had something to do with his fate. Possibly his fate as an Empyrean, which is supposed to be the living vessel of an outer god like the Elden Beast or the Moon or Rot. What's his god? What was he meant to contain? We might never know, and he's as close as we're going to get to a high fantasy atheist I think. I think, if anything, Miquella is Trina's Radagon, if that makes sense? Miquella doesn't want to be a princess in a tower and just decree his will- he wants to make changes and do things and act, which is the province of a lord.

It's extremely queer of him and I love that.

Trina might be their passivity, their dependence, their childish neediness- she's content with stagnation and oblivion in a way Miquella isn't, I think, considering most of her imagery is mist and swamps and Miquella has his butterflies.

So I decided maybe that's it. She's a flower and he's a butterfly. Both limited, both needing eachother, one still very much passive and the other determined to be active. It's very easy to read this whole Empyrean business as the idea that Miquella should have been a woman and is determined to Not Be. He's just. So queer. Him, Trina, and Malenia are SO queer. The alchemy hyperfixation just gives me the words to explain it.

I did not intend to write this much in response, soooo. If you want more rambling you can always feel free to poke me, I love theorizing So Much.

#[ooc]#oops look at all that

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felinedetached · 4 years ago

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Fandom Ableism in the MCYT Community

[Edited 14 June 2021]

One thing I’ve noticed about the MCYT (Dream SMP, specifically) community on both Tumblr and Twitter is that when informed of things that are ableist, or harmful to ND people, a lot of people ignore the post/tweet, derail it or actively fight against it.

“I’m ND so I can’t be ableist�� is a common statement, which is blatantly untrue. Even I’ve used ableist terms and phrases before, without realising they were harmful. So as a neurodivergent person, with autism, BPD, depression/anxiety, dyslexia, psychosis & brain damage*: here’s some common ableist things both CCs and fandom say almost constantly**.

*note that not every neurodivergent person will agree with me on these, but these are commonly ableist things people have previously talked about online, and/or have been discussed between me and other neurodivergent friends. No minority can ever speak for the entire group.

**note that a lot of these are common outside the MCYT community as well, and that some of these are just considered societally acceptable. This isn’t okay, but it explains why a lot of people don’t recognise jokes or comments like these are wrong, and it means that it’s not a direct moral failing of people that they don’t immediately or directly recognise these comments as wrong.

Now, let’s get into the things you might not have realised are potentially ableist:

1. Use of “Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath/Schizo” and other demeaning terms for people with mental illnesses as insults, or to describe characters who are considered villainous. Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath are already terms that people with ASPD dislike using, even not as an insult, but using these terms to describe people or characters who you disagree with or see as villainous only contributes to the villainisation of people with ASPD and other mental illnesses. Using c!Dream as an example: Dream as a character is not confirmed to have any of these mental illnesses. He is, however, commonly labeled as psychotic/psychopathic, incapable of any kind of compassion.

He is also a character that fandom largely insists that nobody is allowed to sympathise with. This is a huge issue, and has hurt a lot of people, especially people with low empathy, or mental illnesses that cause them to relate to some of c!Dream’s actions (e.g. pulling away from all his friends, desperately grasping at straws to gain control of situations etc). Insisting that these characters are characters it’s impossible to sympathise with, all while calling them psychotic/psychopathic/sociopathic, is extremely harmful, and I hope this post draws attention to that.

Here’s another post that talks about that.

2. Use of the term “freak”, in general. As an insult, “freak” has been typically used to insult neurodivergent people, people with visible physical disabilities (ex. “freakshow”, and the term was reportedly created with the intent of insulting people with physical disabilities), or people who display any kind of abnormal/atypical social behaviour/physical aspects — people who are usually ND people who lack a diagnosis or people with physical disabilities. Recent usage has come to mean “people who do things that hurt other people”, but this is harmful as well; using words like “freak” or “weirdo” which mean “socially atypical behaviour” to refer to people who are actually doing things that hurt other people conflates the two, and often has a side effect of hurting disabled people who see it.

3. Calling ND ccs like Technoblade monotone/emotionless. While the term “monotone” isn’t ableist in and of itself, the fact that it’s being used against a neurodivergent man who emotes in a different way to neurotypical people rubs a lot of ND people the wrong way. I’ve partially discussed this here, in a tweet responding to a person who said that c!Technoblade, quote, “has no human capabilities like emotion for example”. This, however, is not something contained to c!Technoblade — one of the most common jokes in this fandom is how rare it is to hear emotion in Technoblade’s voice.

The issue with that is that neurodivergent people almost universally agree that Technoblade emotes perfectly fine, and, in fact, emotes more freely and clearly than a lot of others do. Hence, calling him monotone perpetuates the idea of ND people as emotionless/less able to be hurt/less expressive, which often hurts us. It also contributes to the dehumanisation of ND people — related to how ND symptoms are most often seen in robots or monsters in shows — and is generally extremely harmful, on top of being untrue.

4. Related to point 3: the infantilisation of ND ccs like Tubbo and Dream, usually paired with assigning “caretakers” of their friends, like Tommy and George. This is about the posts that spread like “omg, Tommy helps Tubbo with his dyslexia, that’s so cute” or “omg George is so patient with Dream, I could never sit through that” on videos of Dream vocally stimming because of his ADHD. This is another post that talks about this, but I wanted to talk more about why this is harmful here.

4a) With Tubbo’s dyslexia, from someone with dyslexia, it isn’t harmful to correct his spelling and move on. Personally, I think this is helpful — others will think it’s condescending, because not all ND people are the same — but as the above linked post mentions, this is not what Tubbo’s twitch chat does. This is not what the comments say. It’s all things about how it’s “so cute” that Tubbo can’t spell, how Tommy/Ranboo are “so patient” with correcting him. This is rooted in the need to constantly watch over ND people while acting like we can't live our lives without someone having us under constant vigilance. It feels like savior-complex ableism, like people are trying so hard to not be ableist that they spin back around to hurting us instead. And it feels like we are being treated like children. Like we are lesser than, and need to be monitored/watched over.

4b) Similarly to what people do with Tubbo, the comments on posts about Dream’s vocal stimming are often full of people calling George “patient” for “dealing with it”, or claiming they “wouldn’t be able to handle it”. This is inherently ableist. They’re praising George for basic human decency towards ND people, and claiming in the same breath that they wouldn’t be able to do that themselves. And then there’s these.

These comments infantilise Dream — claiming he “wouldn’t be able to stop/calm down” without George’s help, implying he’d “spiral out of control” or claiming “everyone is now my child”. It’s all related to the infantilisation of ND people, and the belief that without help/a caretaker we cannot take care of ourselves.

5. The way people treat ccs who likely have undiagnosed neurodivergencies, like Wilbur. Wilbur has openly admitted on stream before that his parents considered getting him an autism diagnosis. He also openly admits on stream that he has habits he doesn’t understand why he does, and hyperfixates on things for months at a time and doesn’t know why. Posts like this have gone around Tumblr, in which Wilbur displays blatantly ND traits.

And fandom generally calls him weird for expressing those traits. This video where he talks about eating sand because he likes the texture? That’s an ND trait. This video where he talks about his irrational hatred for anteaters? While mostly a joke, irrational hatred of something when you can’t explain/understand/articulate why is also a common ND trait. He spends 20 minutes during a Philza stream info-dumping about self-sustaining ecosystems (sharing the photo, because I think it’s really cool) and fandom begins calling them “Wilbur’s weird jars”. It’s demeaning to people who infodump, and as a ND person who hyperfixates and infodumps it’s really upsetting to see. It’s also upsetting to see other ND traits being called “weird” or “freaky” & made out to be soley some funny joke for NT people to laugh at us about.

Additionally: It’s strange to me that people think it’s okay to make fun of ND traits just because they know that or perceive that the person they’re making fun of is NT. It’s still making fun of ND traits. It’s still insulting ND people. It’s still ableist as hell. Why is it okay just because the person is NT?

6. Implying that c!Ranboo’s enderwalking is inherently violent. Ranboo has shown us time and time again that the enderwalk state isn’t a violent state. That the enderwalk state isn’t a seperate version of c!Ranboo that does horrific things. Why, then, is it so common to imply that Ranboo would be violent and hurt people why he’s enderwalking?

It comes back to the perception of c!Ranboo as a character with “two halves”, or as a character with DID. Ranboo has made it clear that his character does not have DID, but this headcanon about his character persists, and it persists in a way that is directly harmful to people with DID — and to people who dissociate or sleepwalk. We do not commit horrific acts while we dissociate, while we’re sleepwalking, because the majority of the time we’re just checked out, our body is on autopilot. Insinuating that we do is harmful. Insinuating that Ranboo has “another half” that’s inherently violent or evil is harmful to people with DID. I’m not going to ask you to stop writing these headcanons etc, but please consider the effect you have on people before you do.

7. Related to point 6: the perception of c!Ranboo as “soft” and “cute” and/or perfectly moral because of his canonical anxiety. This is really harmful, and comes once again from the infantilisation of disorders like anxiety and depression. Ranboo has made clear time and time again that his character isn’t moral, and in fact is extremely inconsistent. He’s portrayed his character as inconsistent, as someone who hurts his friends unintentionally and often due to his want to please everyone, and yet he’s constantly seen as “soft/pure/the only moral one” because of his anxiety causing to have repeated and consistent spirals on-screen. These spirals are not healthy. They don’t indicate his “perfect morals” or make him more moral than anyone else on the SMP. Please stop infantilising people with anxiety, it’s really hurtful.

8. Implying that c!Technoblade is inherently a violent person because of his voices. I’ll admit here: my hallucinations are visual. I do not get auditory hallucinations, and I cannot speak for people who do. But many people have spoken out about this, and discussed how talking about Technoblade as an inherently violent character because of his voices is harmful, and a stereotype of people with schizophrenia.

Technoblade’s character is, in and of itself, inherently a stereotype (despite the fact that his chat are more likely to be a supernatural entity than a symptom of a disorder such as schizophrenia) in that the idea of “hearing voices that encourage violence” is a stereotype of people with schizophrenia. As an actual symptom, is a very uncommon one. More common auditory hallucinations for people with schizophrenia or psychosis are, reportedly, whispers or unrelated conversation. One of my friends hears screaming.

But the issue is with the implication that c!Technoblade is “driven to violence” by the voices. Canonically, he has dealt with the “bloodlust” of chat by grinding withers. He’s perfectly capable of being peaceful, even with “voices pushing for violence”, and he’s perfectly capable of being violent without the “voices” influence. It’s the connotations and the history that fandom has in demonising and villainising c!Technoblade for even having the “voices” in the first place, and acting having them makes him inherently violent and unstable. There’s precedent for that already in society, and it’s not okay to perpetuate it.

[Edit: as of 22/05/2021, I do experience auditory hallucinations, and I can confirm that I am not any more violent, and the voices I hear don’t push me to violence. The clearest one just said ‘click’ in my ear.]

9. Jokes about brain damage and the use of “brainrot” as a term. I made a post about how common jokes about brain damage are here, and I would like to reiterate bits of it.

Jokes like these are really really normalized in modern society. I’m sure a lot of you didn’t even register it as wrong, and that isn’t a moral failing! It’s a norm in society, and that means the majority of people arent going to register it as something hurtful, because it’s said so often. But it does still hurt. The idea of using a disability as an insult is really harmful and it feels dehumanizing, like our disability makes us lesser, something that should be laughed at.

“Brainrot” as a term originated in Skyrim, as a disease that literally rotted your brain. However, as a term, it has very similar connotations to “brain damaged” and has been used in similarly joking and insulting ways. It’s something that feels really off to me and other neurodivergent people to see used by neurotypical people. It even sometimes feels uncomfortable when used by neurodivergent people, even if it’s used in positive ways. I know quite a few people who have removed it from their vocab completely because of the connotations, and I have personally done the same. Once again, I am just asking you to please consider your words before you use them.

10. Calling c!Wilbur during his Pogtopia Arc “Vilbur”. Yes, he was a villain. Yes, he hurt people. But c!Wilbur during the Pogtopia Arc only has one major difference from c!Wilbur during the L’Manburg Arc: a visible depiction of mental illness, specifically paranoia and psychosis. Treating him as a seperate person and calling that seperate person “Vilbur” comes across as extremely hurtful, and contributes to the villainisation of mentally ill people. His mental illness does not excuse him from hurting people, but calling c!Wilbur “Vilbur” upsets a lot of us, because wether or not it’s intended, it feels reductive, hurtful, and insulting.

If you got to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading. I hope that this helped you recognise things that you might not have known were ableist, and that you consider what I’ve said here. I also know that I haven’t addressed everything ableist that’s spread through the MCYT fandom community, so if you’re ND and have something you’d like to add, please feel free.

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patchdotexe · 2 years ago

Note

i heard (from a three-month old post of yours) you have klonoa thoughts and i'm interested in hearing them (if you still have them)

even if not i still want to say i am on that klonoa hyperfixation juice and am a sucker for all of the symbolism i've found in the phantasy reverie games i swear it's so good

YES yes yes yes. i may not have been klonoaposting recently but i am ALWAYS full of thoughts and emotions about the series. most of them are incoherent. and will also be even more incoherent rn bc i am not very awake.

(this also comes with the disclaimer that i havent yet gotten to play the phantasy reverie version of lunatea's veil because i got to 5-2 in door to phantomile, went "not this shit again", and took a break and then haven't gotten around to setting my switch back up after travel. whoops)

i.. am putting this under a readmore.. because this is likely to get very long (and also discussing unreality in the context of klonoa worldbuilding)

SO THE DEAL WITH KLONOA. is mostly the continuity. it is a big ol' mess. the timeline between games doesn't make sense, characters appear and disappear at random, entire major character-shifting revelations (eg everything about huepow) get dropped, nahatomb goes from the incarnation of nightmares to Just Some Skeevy CEO in beach volleyball (and it's hilarious), it's just.. really hard to parse if you're somebody trying to link stuff together. i've seen some complaints about it, and as one of those people who likes to tie things together and will take a wrench to canon if i have to, i agreed for a while

and then when talking about klonoa to my friends, i came to a very important realization that made me sit down for a while and go "oh. yeah. of course."

everything is a dream.

like.. that's the whole premise of the series. these are all dream worlds that klonoa is being brought to and becomes part of for the duration of his stay. they're not supposed to be coherently connected, even if certain characters keep showing up. huepow is in empire of dreams despite it being probably after door to phantomile because huepow is someone important to klonoa, even if it doesn't really make sense for the overall narrative for him to be there without any explanation. same with lolo. klonoa meets someone, gets attached to them, and wants to see them again, so he does.

(you could also extrapolate this into "huepow is always in ring spirit form and the big reveal isn't addressed because klonoa doesn't want to acknowledge it", but that's a bit of a rougher subject.)

there's also potential for the idea that locations and people in door to phantomile are based off klonoa's waking life-- breezegale shows up a couple times (door to phantomile and klonoa heroes, i feel like there's another time i'm forgetting), klonoa's grandpa in dtp might be a phantomilian version of his actual grandpa, stuff like that. it would at least explain how huepow was easily able to graft klonoa into phantomile: there's already something to connect him to.

add onto that the fact that huepow says that, to phantomile, klonoa's world is a "strange dream".. huepow basically flipped klonoa's perspective, to where phantomile is the "real" breezegale and the real waking world is just a weird dream he had and forgot all the details of. which is still pretty fucked up. i do not have the energy to get fully into Huepow Thoughts but my emotions about this orb are "you did not need to do any of this and i am going to cry". this is a "huepow you really need to think more about your life choices" blog

idk there is a LOT to be done with how everything is framed and i really really want to explore that sometime. i fucking love klonoa

#leo.txt #leos reply #transmorolians #klonoa #klonoa spoilers #KLONOA GO BRRRRRRRRRRRR #leo chirps

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

I found my way home

Summary: After Spencer tells Hotch about his recent autism diagnosis, he expects that to be the end of it. Somehow, though, it keeps coming up, and Hotch keeps proving himself to be the best father figure he could have asked for.

Tags: autistic spencer, protective hotch, hurt/comfort, fluff, paternal hotch, team as family

TW: mentions of ableism, one small instance of ableism & homophobia

Pairing: Gen

Word Count: 4.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

This was borne from my conversations with @criminalmindsvibez about the lack of autistic spencer fics and her amazing headcanons. While I'm not autistic, Emily is, and helped me to portray Spencer's autism as accurately as possible. That said, please feel free to correct me on anything I got wrong :)

Spencer had made an effort to get into work even earlier than usual today. He’d ridden the metro through the city, dipping his hand into his messenger bag every few minutes to compulsively check that the slim letter he’d received in the post the other day is still in the front pocket where he’d safely placed it that morning. He brushes his fingers over the paper once more as he enters the near-empty bullpen, the letter cool from the winter air.

It’s still so surreal to him that this is where he works. After years of dreaming of working for the FBI he’s finally here, and even though it’s been his place of work for almost two months now, he’s still not used to it. The warm offices are a nice reprieve from the wintry December wind, and he can feel himself relaxing as he heads to his desk. Leaving his coat and messenger bag on his chair, he pulls the letter out of the front pocket and runs his index finger along the edge. He finds himself biting his bottom lip as he tries to work up the courage to go and see Hotch.

Sucking in a deep breath, he marches determinedly up to Hotch’s office, entering as soon as his knocks are answered.

“Reid,” Hotch says pleasantly as he takes a seat opposite his desk, realising belatedly that he probably should have waited until he was invited. “You’re in early. What can I do for you?”

Nervously, Spencer hands him the letter he’d couriered across the city so carefully. He’d taken care to open it neatly with his letter opener but the return address on the back has been stamped at a crooked angle, and it bothers him every time he notices it. He can’t stop looking at it now as he taps his fingers anxiously against his leg in the pattern of the Fibonacci sequence, a safe and familiar reassurance played out by his nervous fingers. He watches apprehensively as Hotch pulls the letter out of the envelope, unfolding it and skimming his eyes down the page, taking in the news Spencer’s been so anxious to share with him.

Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome

God, it had been a long process. He’d had to seek out a doctor in DC who diagnosed adults, paid for all the consultations and diagnostics himself — his insurance certainly wouldn’t cover it, not that he’d feel comfortable using his cushy FBI insurance for something so personal anyway — and the whole process had taken far longer than he’d expected. Finally, though, the envelope had arrived in the mail, and he officially had a diagnosis.

Of course, he’d had his suspicions for years, especially after one of his professors during his second PhD had casually asked whether he’d ever been tested, planting a seed in his brain that led to many late nights in the library, reading all the literature available to him. It’s why he’d found it strange that it had felt so validating to finally receive that letter in the post. But it had.

The label made sense, and now that he had a diagnosis from a medical professional he felt comfortable to share it with others; he’d been far too paranoid about being questioned, not being believed or lectured about the evils of self-diagnosis no matter how he was confident in himself. He didn’t tend to be an insecure or self-conscious person, but after years of bullying and trauma surrounding what he now knew for sure to be his autistic traits, he couldn’t help but feel almost protective of his affirming label.

Now though, it’s an irrefutable statement. Dr Spencer Reid has autism, and the first person he wants to tell is Hotch.

“I had no idea you were getting tested, Reid,” Hotch says, a hint of surprise bleeding into his voice. “Is there any specific reason you wanted to share this with me?”

“Well… I felt like someone on the team should know,” Spencer starts carefully, afraid to give too much of himself away, “and I thought that someone in a leadership position was the best option. Gideon has never been very… supportive of my autistic traits or behaviour, so I thought that you— that you would be the best option.” He feels awkward, fidgeting in his chair as he watches Hotch’s serious face and kind eyes absorb the information.

“That trust in me means a lot, Reid,” he says, a rare smile making its way onto his face. In that moment, Spencer knows he made the right decision. “How can I make things easier for you? Is there anything you need me to be doing differently?”

“Uh—” He hadn’t really been anticipating that question and it catches him off guard: he’d predicted a quick nod of acknowledgement, a request to photocopy the letter so it can be put on file followed by a swift dismissal, but the letter is now sitting on his side of the desk: clearly, Hotch intends on keeping this between them. This is far from what he expected.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about autism and how it might affect your work?” Hotch corrects himself, recognising quickly Spencer’s need for specifics. “I’ll admit I don’t know much beyond some probably rather unhelpful stereotypes.”

Spencer nods. He can answer that question. “As everyone knows I often go off on tangents,” he begins, “and that’s because my special interests — or hyperfixations — often coincide with our work, so I know a lot about the topics we’re investigating. If I do that, just redirect me to the case and I’ll be fine. It’s also really hard for me to have to present myself in a certain way all the time. Vocal stims and gestures are the most satisfying to me but I often have to mask them, which I’ve never been very good at anyway, and it’s fairly exhausting. That’s why I often excuse myself; I go to the bathroom or a secluded hallway and stim on my own. My doctor also told me I tend to overcompensate in social situations and over-perform emotion. Those are the basics, I guess, but it’s a very complex disorder and since it makes up me as a human being, I can’t exactly explain all of it in one conversation.”

“No, that’s fine, Reid, you’ve given me a good picture of what to expect, thank you.” Hotch smiles at him, fondness in the crinkles around his eyes and the softness invading his usually stern expression. “First of all, you never have to feel like you need to excuse yourself to stim. Do you think it would be helpful if we told the rest of the team so they know what to expect? I’m assuming vocal stims are saying certain words or making sounds…?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, so if you needed to do that we could just continue the conversation while you get it out of your system. Gestures certainly wouldn’t be a problem. How do you feel about that?”

He hadn’t really considered telling the rest of the team but it seemed sort of intimidating, like he’d be opening a vulnerable side of himself to people he didn’t even know that well. On the other hand, they’d all been so understanding of his quirks and odd behaviour so far without even knowing the reason behind it. He’d never once been made to feel the way he used to at school, forced to either pretend to be someone else completely or be isolated and ostracised.

He settles for, “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s fine. There’s no pressure,” Hotch assures him. “I’m very happy you told me, Reid. I hope you know you can come and talk to me about anything, whether it’s about this or something completely different.”

Spencer leaves his office with the letter back in his hands, no notes or copies having been made, feeling almost elated. Never in a million years would he have expected that to go so well.

⭐️

He doesn’t really expect it to come up again. He’d told Hotch so that he could understand him a bit better, and also because Hotch had quickly assumed a protective, almost paternal role in his life and he wanted to share the piece of news with him whether he was leading his department or not. That was supposed to be it, though, he didn't think anything would materially change, especially since he decided not to tell the team about the diagnosis just yet.

But almost immediately after he’d told Hotch his diagnosis, his rambles began to be gently redirected back to the case, sometimes without him even noticing. He wasn’t rudely cut off by anyone anymore, Hotch always steering him back on course before anyone else can jump in and hurt Spencer’s feelings. It’s so… kind that it almost feels foreign, and he finds himself gravitating towards the older man more and more, sitting next to him on every jet journey and staying glued to his side during cases.

His newfound protectiveness over Spencer is only demonstrated more clearly a few months after their conversation in Hotch’s office when they’re on their way to New Mexico for a case. The second he spots that the murder victims had all been found with different Fitzgerald quotes scrawled on sheets of paper found in their own personal notebooks, ripped out and left for investigating officers to find, he launches into an info-dump to rival info-dumps.

He can’t help that literature is a special interest of his, made all the more intense by the fond childhood memories of reading to his mother in her bed. Fitzgerald had been her favourite author of the Modern Era, and he’d spent hours analysing significant passages in his novels as a child, so he starts explaining the literary merit of each of the quotes left at the crime scenes.

Apparently, he doesn’t hear the first two times Hotch tries to direct him back on topic, but he hears it when Gideon shouts, “Spencer! Long and unnecessary tangents are not conducive to actually solving these cases. Get back on topic. Now.” He’s loud enough to briefly knock him back several decades to memories of his father screaming at his mother’s schizophrenic babbling, when she’d become convinced that the villains of her favourite novels were trying to break into the house.

Spencer stops mid-sentence and stares at Gideon, who is staring right back. Everyone’s watching the two awkwardly, but the short moment of silence is quickly broken by Hotch. “There is absolutely no need to be that rude, Jason,” he says disapprovingly, while he lays a hand on Spencer’s arm in a light, absent-minded sort of touch. “Reid may have been off-topic but he deserves respect just like everyone else on this team. Nobody needs to be shouted at like that.” He directs his attention back to Spencer. “Why don’t you tell us how those Fitzgerald quotes could help us solve the case, Reid?”

He gives him an encouraging look, and when he looks around the jet, everyone else is, too. Carefully, he starts speaking again, a little afraid of being cut off again, but after a few sentences of relevant explanation he regains his momentum. It’s more than a little vindicating when it’s his ‘unnecessary tangent’ that ends up being the key to cracking the case.

⭐️

Soon after Hotch’s split from Haley, he approaches Spencer one evening when they’re the only two left at the office with a dinner invitation. Within the hour, they walk into a nice, low-key Italian place in the city and take a seat in the far corner of the restaurant.

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asks a little uncertainly, confused as to why his boss is suddenly taking him for dinner.

“I had this idea almost as soon as you told me about your autism,” Hotch explains, knowing by now that preambles and niceties only frustrate Spencer instead of setting him at ease. “I wanted to take you out for dinner every week to try and give you a space to ramble about all your special interests and not feel like you have to mask around everyone. But when I was with Haley, all my personal time was obviously spent with her and Jack. Now, I have the time to dedicate to you and all the incredible knowledge you’re hoarding in that brain of yours.”

“Really?” Spencer asks excitedly. The idea of uninhibited space to talk about the recent knowledge he’s acquired and not have to feel insecure or worry about performing social skills he doesn’t see the point of is everything he’s ever wished for, and something so wonderful being provided by Hotch only makes it better.

“Really.”

Spencer wastes no time. He dives right in. “I was just watching a documentary the other day about volcanoes and their ability to trigger lightning storms with their voltage,” he begins. “Basically, magma rises toward the volcano’s surface, its water rapidly turns to vapor, which shatters the molten rock into tiny particles and creates charged particles. When the ash plume erupts into the atmosphere, the densely packed particles collide, driven by momentum. Friction then affects their electrons, becoming electrically charged. Positively and negatively charged electrons separate in the ash plume which creates a charge imbalance that builds an electric charge strong enough to trigger a lightning storm.”

“That’s incredible.”

“I know,” Spencer says excitedly. “If the ash plume rises high enough in the atmosphere ice forms, and when ice, hail, and supercooled liquid droplets collide, the rates of lightning explode, it’s crazy.”

They’re briefly interrupted by a waitress taking their orders, but as soon as she leaves, Hotch gets him to jump back in. “What about that lecture you attended last week… the literature of 18th Century England or something?”

“19th Century English Lit, yeah!” He’s so eager to finally share this with somebody who will genuinely listen to him, and he can’t help it when his arms start to flap excitedly. Remembering where he is, he doesn’t try to mask it, pin his arms to his sides and simply deal with and suppress the innate urge to stim, he lets his body do what it wants to. Instead of eliciting a strange, sideways look, Hotch just smiles fondly.

“The lecturer had this fascinating theory on Dickens. I’ve always seen him as a pretty straight forward author of picaresque fiction, obviously combined with facets of melodrama. And it’s common knowledge that he was inspired by the novel of sensibility, of course. But I’d never thought about the stylistic and lexical choices in his works beyond standard analysis, and this lecturer went on a deep dive into his use of collocation and it opened my eyes…”

He spends the whole evening stimming to his heart’s content while detailing every current interest of his to Hotch, who simply listened intently while eating his meal slowly, dragging out the meal for as long as Spencer needed. “Let me give you a lift home,” Hotch insists after footing the bill, leading him out into the warm evening air.

“Oh, I don’t mind taking the metro,” he replies truthfully.

“I know. But it would make me feel better to drop you home safely. It’s late and seeing you into your apartment building would give me peace of mind.”

“Sure,” Spencer agrees happily, he’s still buzzing from such a nice evening and the least he can do for Hotch is let him rest easy tonight, so he climbs into the passenger side of his car. A few minutes into the car ride home, he realises he should probably actually verbalise just how much he enjoyed dinner. “Thank you, Hotch. I don’t think anybody’s ever done something so nice for me before.”

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” Hotch replies, smiling even though he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. Spencer very much likes it when Hotch uses his first name, and he’d been doing it all evening. He doesn’t really understand why it feels so nice, just that it makes him feel… special, maybe.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he repeats, before freezing as he realises what he’s said. He’s got so used to not masking all evening, he’s not in the right rhythm and mindset to suppress the urge to repeat Hotch’s words. He’s been so nice the whole evening, the last thing Spencer wants is for Hotch to think he’s mocking him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hotch reassures him, tapping his arm lightly as he smiles encouragingly.

“Don’t mention it, Spencer,” he says again, repeating it a few times in relief before the itch is satisfied. He really does have the best boss/friend in the whole world. There’s no doubt about that.

⭐️

Rossi’s initial reaction to Spencer had admittedly been a bit rocky, and having Hotch undeniably on his side was the only thing that made those first few months bearable. He never let them go off on their own; never put Spencer in a position where he’d have to be alone with him. Gradually, though, Rossi adjusted to his quirks and he became almost as protective of Spencer as Hotch.

That doesn’t bode well for the local sheriff when they’re on a case in North Carolina. He’s been prickly since they arrived, being as stubborn and uncooperative as possible, slowing down their progress on actually solving the case, and Spencer’s noticed him being a little extra rude to him in particular. It doesn’t massively bother him — it’s not exactly like someone’s aversion to him is a novel concept — but he can feel some sort of tension coming from the others. It happens a lot more now that they know about his autism and are more aware of themselves and others.

He tries to ignore it the best he can; he puts his head down and focuses on the geographical profile, going wherever he’s sent. Besides, the sooner they solve this case the sooner they can get out of North Carolina and back to DC. On their third day on the case, he’s working quietly in their designated corner of the police department alongside Hotch and Rossi while the others are out investigating in various different places. It’s a nice environment, and even though both men are his superiors, he feels more relaxed in their company than in anybody else’s.

It’s a relatively pleasant morning — considering the whole trying to catch a brutal serial killer thing — until they need to ask the sheriff a question. He saunters over, a tense and angry expression on his face, and Spencer can’t help but feel a little off, the confusing tension in the air that Spencer can’t quite identify making him anxious in his inability to properly decipher it. “Gentlemen,” he says, already frustrated. Spencer suspects it’s a pride thing; not many police departments like being shown up enough to have the FBI called in.

Eager to know the answer to their question, Spencer’s the one to jump in and ask. “Sheriff, we were just wondering whether the town gets much traffic from the local university or—”

He’s cut off by the sneering, towering man. “I’m not taking any questions from your kind,” he says aggressively.

“I’m sorry?” Spencer squeaks as Rossi and Hotch both prepare to say something in response.

The sheriff cuts them off before they can get their likely diplomatic and calming words out. “Homo retards aren’t welcome around here.”

“Hey!” Rossi shouts as he leaps out of the chair, grabbing him by the collar as he’s helped by the element of surprise. “You don’t fucking talk to Spencer like that, you hear me? Weak, cowardly men like you—”

“Dave,” Hotch says placatingly, putting a hand on his shoulder and diffusing the situation. “Listen, Sheriff, we are only here to help you. But if you can’t respect my agents then we’re going to have a problem. Either you’re civil to Dr Reid, or I’m reporting you to the NC Sheriff’s Association. You hear me?”

The sheriff’s pride is clearly wounded, but he at least nods before giving them all a scornful look and walking away.

“We didn’t even get to ask the question,” Spencer says anxiously, suddenly feeling out of his depth, like he can’t quite get enough air.

“Dave, try and get an answer,” Hotch directs, taking charge of the situation. “Spencer, come with me.” He takes him into a secluded hallway for a little privacy, sitting him down on the cool linoleum before sinking down next to him. “You’re okay.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Spencer whispers over and over to himself as he rocks backwards and forwards, trying desperately to self-soothe.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Hotch asks. He’s been in enough of these situations with Spencer to know he’s usually in two very different headspaces: he either longingly craves the grounding touch of a hug or a hand on his back, or he needs complete space. He’s also learned that asking outright is the only way to get an direct answer.

“Yes,” Spencer replies, before repeating it over and over again as he’s wrapped up in Hotch’s arms, head pressed against his chest, his hand pressing gently against the back of Spencer’s head. He starts to calm down as he manages to breathe to the heat of Hotch’s calm, steady heartbeat, the comforting touch of someone he trusts with his life also helping to bring him back down to earth. A good ten minutes after the altercation with the sheriff, he’s feeling much better and brings his head out of it’s safe cocoon between Hotch’s chest and hand.

“Come on,” Hotch says kindly. “Let’s get back to the case, yeah? You can just sit and work quietly until you’re ready to hold a proper conversation again. How does that sound?”

Spencer nods tiredly, knowing that work will perk him back up again, and being surrounded by his team will make him feel safe, asshole sheriff or not.

⭐️

Over the years Hotch helps him through any hurdles that come his way, learning the exact nuances of Spencer’s characteristics and requirements, making sure to accommodate him in every way possible.

He brings an extra, super-soft sweater in his go-bag in case Spencer ever forgets his and needs something gentle on his skin but tight enough to make him feel secure. He buys him stimming toys, dropping them on Spencer’s desk before he even arrives at work and lets him use his office whenever the lights and noise of the bullpen get too much, drawing the blinds and giving him the space he needs. Rossi doesn’t even question it anymore when Hotch shows up with a stack of paperwork and moves into his office for the morning.

It wasn’t until Hotch made a concerted effort to make his life easier that Spencer realised how hard it had been fighting through life on his own. So when he realises Hotch’s birthday is coming up, he decides he wants to show his gratitude. It’s never been easy for him to express emotions, especially since he’s never really found it rude when people don’t thank him, but he knows that for most neurotypical people, appreciation is important.

So he talks it over with Derek and on Hotch’s birthday, he comes into work to see Spencer waiting in his office with balloons, a cake, a card, and a present. He’d spent hours trying to find the right words to explain how he feels, to find the right words to show Hotch just how much everything he’s done for him means, but eventually he’d settled on something simple:

Caroline B Cooney wrote: “I found my family. I found the right thing to do. I found my way home.”

I found all of these things when I joined the BAU, but more specifically when I walked into your office, hands shaking, clasping a letter I’d been waiting for all my life. Thank you.

Hotch reads it with tears in his eyes before taking in the cake, a classic birthday cake Spencer had bought at the store, the words “Happy Birthday Dad” written in blue icing. He didn’t really understand why the cake had stood out to him, or why he associated the word ‘dad’ with someone who wasn’t related to him at all, but he’d trusted his gut and with Derek’s cheerleading, he’d bought it.

“Oh, Spencer,” Hotch says tearfully. “Can I hug you?”

Feeling only mildly uncomfortable at the visible display of emotion Spencer doesn’t know what to do with, he nods and steps into Hotch’s comforting embrace. “This means the world to me,” Hotch murmurs quietly as he stands, hugging Spencer for as long as the younger man can stand it.

Spencer’s still not completely sure why he’s managed to make him so emotional, but at least he can trust that it’s a good thing, that Hotch is happy and pleased and reassured. And if he can make him feel even a smidgen as happy as Hotch has made Spencer over the years, well. He’ll consider his long and boring trip into the city to buy the cake, present and card worth it.

Quick Note: Spencer is diagnosed with Asperger’s because that part of the fic is set in 2005. These days he would be diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch & spencer #spencer #hotch #my writing #autistic spencer reid #autistic spencer #dad hotch

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nonbinarychaoticstupid · 4 years ago

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fifteen (hugging each other) if you want? (any ship/pairing/anything you feel like) aaaa

:0 skjckiskjdshd i was going to do carulia bc AA but then i fell into the lumity hyperfixation and this was born dksjdjksdjknjf this is the fastest i have ever written for a prompt

ft amity being ridiculously soft and in love and probably a lot of spelling mistakes idk

They drop Willow and Gus at their respective homes before midnight sets in - Amity even helps Gus crawl in through his window, which is nice of her, Luz thinks. She's too sore and tired to do anything except stand behind her, watching the street in case Odalia comes tearing down it on top of another abomination (probably with teeth this time, because who knows what happened after they ran away from the warehouse), gripping her sore arm and thinking about how her heart started pounding in her ears earlier, how she flushed when Amity grabbed her shoulder and hurried her outside and had to stare determinedly at the stars for a good ten minutes before she could look her in the eyes again, how -

"Luz?"

She jumps. It's Amity - of course it's Amity, she's been anxiously hovering around her and mumbling apologies for her parents since they were sure they weren't being followed - and she's holding out her hand and offering her a small, awkward half-smile, and Luz's heart gives a funny little jump, and then a second as she takes it and laces their fingers together.

And then a third, this time for a different reason altogether, when Gus pokes his head out of the window above them and waves.

Amity waves back (She really likes us now, Luz thinks, grinning up at the illusion of Gus's disembodied head propped on his balcony), and when they set off down the street, she feels her own grip tighten ever so slightly around her hand.

She lets out a long breath. Everything is fine. It's a beautiful, silent night, and she's wandering down the prettiest street in Bonesborough and holding Amity's hand, and there's still abomination gunk in her hair, but everything is... fine. Great, actually. And Amity is smiling, which is awesome, because Luz has never seen her smile at anything like that before.

She could get used to it, honestly.

Amity glances at her and smiles again, softer, slower. "You're making your idea face."

Luz blinks, resists the urge to reach up and feel exactly what face she's making. "Oh, am I? I have an idea face? That's pretty cool, actually. Or is it? Because then everyone knows what I'm thinking. Nah, still cool. I have an idea face. Yeah. I'm intimidating and cool. A bad boy, if you will."

She laughs. (Luz's heart does the funny little jumping thing again. She wonders, distantly, if it shows.) "The literal walking definition of a bad boy, you goof."

"Baddest boy in the Boiling Isles. Lesser witches cower before my star power."

Amity laughs again. She has a really nice laugh (like, wow), and it's still making something in her chest feel funny. "Luz the Bad Boy," she says, somewhat giddily.

"Azura the Good Witch and her edgy cousin." She squeezes Amity's hand, swinging their interlaced fingers between them. It's not often they get moments together like this, and she's starting to understand now what it is that's making her heart race and her breathing feel funny, and she thinks, a little distantly, that spending time alone with Amity is going to be - weird now, and - "I'd read that book."

"Please don't tell me the next thing we do is write it."

"Oh, we?" Luz turns to grin at her. "There's a we now?"

And Amity - Amity flushes.

"Yes - I, um - a - a we, sure, I don't - I dunno, uh - we as - as in - um -" She bites the inside of her cheek, glancing away, and Luz's heart does the jumping thing again.

"Wow, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she mumbles, grip loosening on her hand, and she chews on her lip and squeezes it tighter. It probably isn't the best move, but Amity... Amity seems to respond well to it - she squeezes her hand back, and when they round a corner and officially make it out of the main town, Luz notices that they're walking in sync. The realisation makes her smile.

"Amity," she begins, and Amity jumps.

"Hm?"

"Are you gonna go back to your parents tonight? I - I don't think that's really safe. You - you could - uh, you could stay with us, if you want. Just until school tomorrow. King won't sleep on your clothes if I tell him not to, I swear."

She smiles at her over the space between them - the same soft, slow smile that made Luz's heart do the Thing again earlier. "I - thanks for the offer, but I'll probably go to Skara's. She's used to it. Me coming over after an incident, I mean."

"Stuff like that's happened before?" Luz whispers, and she meant it to sound casual, not... tense. "I'm - I'm really sorry, Amity. I'm sorry for pushing you earlier."

Amity shrugs. "You didn't know. It's not like I go around telling people. And it's not - it's not a big deal, anyway."

"Amity, that necklace -"

"Luz," she mumbles, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal. I can handle it. I've got Edric and Emira."

"And your father?"

She shrugs again, slower this time. "He doesn't care. Mom could dangle us over the edge of a cliff and he'd be more concerned with the soil density than, you know, his children."

Luz can't think of anything to say except "I'm sorry." She reaches out with her free hand, touches Amity's shoulder, and she gives her a long, warm look. And they fall silent.

And Amity's head falls gently onto her shoulder.

The silence lasts for the majority of the walk home, right up until they make it into the woods, and then Amity lifts her head from Luz's shoulder and murmurs, "It's really pretty out here at night, isn't it?"

Looking over at her and saying yeah, it is would be the obvious and cliché thing to do, and also Amity would notice and probably laugh at her, so Luz stares determinedly again at the sky for the second time tonight and chokes out, "Yup. Really pretty. Love living out here. Especially at night."

Amity giggles, and it's the most undignified and adorable sound she's ever heard come out of her mouth. "You're a dork."

"Biggest dork on the Boiling Isles. Baddest boy around. My list of qualifications just keeps on growing."

She laughs again. And Luz realises that ever since they escaped the warehouse, she's been... relaxed. Not happy, because dealing with a mother like that probably couldn't leave her feeling particularly cheerful, but... open. Softer, warmer. And she thinks it's because of the absence of the necklace.

They stop not far from the Owl House, in the shelter of a large tree she knows, logically, isn't oak, but looks too close to be anything but. Amity's head falls back onto her shoulder again. She makes a soft, contented noise (and the Thing happens again, and she thinks, wow), and mumbles, "You're thinking about the necklace, aren't you?"

"I didn't say anything. That was all you. But yes, I am curious. D'you - d'you want to talk about it?"

A long, almost languid shrug. She reminds Luz of a cat sometimes. "She used it to talk to me. And, uh - and keep me in line, I guess. Threaten me where no-one else could hear it. Where Dad couldn't stop it. Yeah, he did try to stop it sometimes. Mostly because he seems to draw the line at physical injury he can't explain to the authorities." The corners of her mouth twitch up, and Luz has to shake herself.

"That's awful," she breathes, feeling small. "That's horrible, Amity, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Amity detaches herself from Luz's side, and her hair is messy and sticking to the side of her face and when she steps away and turns to face her she keeps a hold of her hand. "Come on, I'll walk you to the door."

Luz smiles at her.

Amity lets go of her hand when they get to the porch. (Luz tries not to visibly frown at the loss of her presence.) She makes it all the way to the door, Amity trailing behind her with an odd, uncertain expression, and then something shifts a little within her ribcage and she spins around and flings herself into her arms, and Amity yelps and stumbles back a little, and then she loops her arms around her shoulders and hugs her back.

Luz likes hugging Amity.

It's such a simple thought, and it makes her feel so strangely delighted. They fit perfectly between each other's arms, and in the half-dark, lit only by the dim, guttering light from the lamps inside the house itself, and she has the feeling that the only reason Hooty isn't directly behind them making some snide comment is because Lilith is inside and entertaining him, thank G0d.

Something like five minutes pass - I've been hugging Amity for five whole minutes, oh my gosh - and then she hears, somewhere to her left, "Uh, Luz?"

"Hm?"

"This is nice."

She settles her head on Amity's shoulder. "It is."

"I think I have to let go now."

"Nooo..." She buries her head in Luz's hoodie, just gently enough to make her heart do the Thing again, and sighs, and Luz laughs.

"You okay there?"

"Don't get a lot of hugs."

"Mm. You can still stay with us tonight if you want." ('Don't get a lot of hugs.')

Amity shakes her head. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

"Thank you for saving my life today. You were awesome. You are awesome. I can't imagine doing anything like that."

"Luz," she says, warmly, softly, "You do it all the time."

And with that, she steps back, lets go of her entirely, and practically skips into the night, leaving Luz to stare after her and wonder why she left so fast, and spend the rest of the night agonising over this weird, warm feeling buzzing away in her chest.

#sep texxt #ask #sandiegocarmen #luz you're in LOVE #sep's writing #toh #the owl house #lumity #luz #luz noceda #amity #amity blight #gosh. gay.#tw abuse #tw abuse mention #toh spoilers

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