#and I’ve been having more meltdowns as of recent

[squuote]

I got shit sleep I do not want to be at work rn dude!!!!!! get me outta here!!!!!

[frink-o-matic]

If thinking about doing a thing is causing me to want to cry, then I should not do it right then.

[disteal]

I only ask cause you usually seem to be pretty up to date on the goings on of this site, but what the HELL is going on with tumblr's CEO? Why are they having a meltdown responding to asks? What's the trans misogyny accusation about? Why is tumblr apparently being run by children?

Thanks in advance.

This is kind of a long story so this is sort of TLDR for brevity but there’s more going on here.

Some context if you weren’t aware; Tumblr has been accused multiple times by its userbase for fostering TERF staff members and covering for them when making transphobic moderation calls. Things like; an overeagerness to ban trans women for posting nudes despite not addressing nazis or bots for years, or protection of notable TERF users who flagrantly break TOS by organising hate campaigns. The users who collected evidence of this became huge targets for these “””alleged””” TERF mods and users and were basically hunted online for sport. Up until recently the “terf mods” take was considered a bit of a conspiracy theory by some who assumed it was more likely to be an automation problem mixed with transphobic reports.

This week: tumblr user predstrogen was recently permabanned (for a second time) following a mass reporting by TERFs. This, obviously, pissed a lot of people off, and a fairly routine “the fuck haven’t you banned the nazis yet??” ask was sent to photomatt, the CEO.

Photomatt, INSANELY, replied, misgendering her multiple times and defending his decision to personally smack down the ban hammer by citing predstrogens nudes, but by his own admission the far more heinous crime was this absolutely ridiculous post;

Matt has also contacted the FBI over this stupid shit despite predstrogen not living in the US.

Lastly, during this very public announcement on the kangaroo court hearing, matty drops this absolute nuclear bomb about Tumblr having some internal drama when they’d discovered an external contractor was A) a transphobe wielding mod authority to be transphobic B) criminally selling moderation (likely to TERFs).

Despite this obviously being on the record somewhere, this is clearly news to fucking everyone including myself.

It’s also worth noting that predstrogen has not been the only recent ban; several black people and black transfems have been instabanned after directly asking matt for accountability (the user i’ve seen specifically named was @rulerofpurple and his partner)

So, naturally, people are fucking furious they spent years getting gaslit by staff, who had been assuring us of their even-handedness, but surprise!!! Trans women WERE being uniquely targeted, and even worse, likely targeted by the people who they could never seem to deplatform despite constant death threats and doxxing!! And despite all this assurance that Tumblrs internals are now perfectly free of transmisogyny and racism, it’s pretty obvious to just about everyone that Tumblr staff are chomping at the bit to ban trans women.

[idolomantises]

First question, will we be seeing Asmodeus and Lilith again soon? Second question! Do you have a favourite redesign and who was the hardest to redesign?

Yes!

I think my Beelzebub redesign is my favorite. I really love drawing bugs in general and it was really fun trying to rework her design to look more bee-like and less… furry. I actually liked the design so much I decided to repurpose it for my own character who’s Beelzebub’s daughter. She’s not as nice as Helluva’s Bee, very Regina George lol.

I actually got really excited working on her. I just love designing bugs and demons so getting a chance to do both was very enjoyable for me. I actually had even MORE sketches planned for her but I realized I was getting way too involved redesigning a character, so some concepts just became my own thing. Like I was like “I don’t mind that Beelzebub is nice, but she doesn’t feel like a Sin at all”, so I had some bonus sketches of her being like that really cool but toxic friend who just keeps enabling you.

Hardest to redesign though? God. Maybe Angel Dust? In fact even after my most recent redesign I’ve never really been fully happy with (it was very rushed compared to nifty). I enjoy doing Hazbin/Helluva redesigns but one major issue I have with these characters is that they’re WAAAAAY too bloated story wise, and Angel dust might be the worst example of this. Like fitting a drag queen, sex worker, celebrity and mafia boss into one character is a bit of a challenge because you basically have to look at Angel dust and understand all those things about him.

Maybe I’ll do a fifth one if I ever do Hazbin redesigns again LOL, but likely not. I always planned to stop early but the fandom kind of solidified it. These stop being fun knowing that there are people who monitorsmy account waiting for my next redesign to drop so they can harass me and tell me to kill myself. Not fun! I’d rather draw other things.

(Also to be clear, even if the fandom was really nice to me, I still would have stopped. The creator’s constant controversy was the main reason I quit and only did Nifty and Angel Dust after a request. But the fandom meltdown was the nail in the already deep and buried coffin)

[lukolabrainrot]

Firstly thank you so much for your blog. I appreciate your well considered viewpoint and align strongly with your opinions on the current state of the relationship of our favourite couple.

I have been fascinated recently with the different reactions within the fandom to seemingly small events. When I saw the wallpaper on A’s phone I immediately went to a group I’m part of to watch the inevitable meltdown and spiral. As occurs every time a small thing happens there are immediately very different reactions. Those who have always leant to the more negative side of the speculation immediately double down that A and L are still together and it’s absolutely Luke in the photo. From their perspective they are just being realistic and sensible. I firmly believe everybody is entitled to their opinion even if it differs from my own but I don’t believe this view is anymore realistic than mine.

On the other side (which is the side I’m on BTW) L and A have been broken up since at least the Italy birthday trip, the picture is too unclear to confirm anything and even if it is him it tells us nothing about the current state of their relationship.

I’m not really sure what my question is but I guess it’s more an observation about confirmation bias and how we see what we want to see (myself included). From my perspective there is far more to indicate a split than that they still together. I also believe L&N are currently together.

I’ve made a conscious decision to have fun within the fandom. Fun for me is believing the love we saw between L & N is real and they have acted on that. I fully acknowledge that most of what I believe is based on speculation that can be interpreted many different ways. However it is much more fun for me to interpret things in a positive way rather than focussing on the side characters. At the end of the day the only people who know for sure what their relationship status is are L&N and those who actually know them. So why not have fun in our little corner of the internet with the many crumbs N has given us and cheer them on (quietly without being in their personal SM).

Just one final point that has been bothering me is about the Spain photos. For me amidst all this speculation about A being there, palm trees etc there is one thing I’ve never heard mentioned. If she was there and his post was a Latergram why did he take a photo clearly staged to show he was alone. Why would you go on a holiday with your girlfriend and consciously take a photo indicating you’re alone.

Sorry this ended up longer than I thought it would but again thank you for having a space where we can have fun and escape from the realities of the world for a short while.

Thank you Anon, I appreciate it!!

I TRY to keep this space fun and as light hearted as possible.

And I agree, I think if you look at the FULL picture without hyperfixating on one thing, it appears that L/N are likely together atp... I personally think they have probably been together for months by now (but that is just my opinion from what I have seen).

[babydollmarauders]

FIGHT — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

summary: y/n (lovie) and jack get into their biggest fight yet

warnings: fighting, mention of bad parents (lovie’s)

my head slumps on the back of the couch as Eleanor’s cries pierce my eardrums.

“El, baby, c’mon.” i groan out.

my recently turned one year old is sprawled out on the apartment floor, throwing a fit over something of which i have no idea.

i tried to pick her up, but she just kept pushing my hands away, screaming ‘mama! no! mama, no! no, mama!’

it’s been two weeks of this, and i have a sneaking suspicion that her constant sour mood has been all because of the particular absence of her favorite person. Jack.

it’s been two weeks of early wake-ups and late nights. two weeks of El having meltdowns if i mess up even one thing, like giving her cheetos in a bowl instead of her snack cup, or suggesting Moana instead of watching Lilo & Stitch for the billionth time, or reading her the wrong book at bed time. it’s been two weeks of sleep regression, no naps, and her throwing her food every chance she gets. two weeks of her screaming if i try and leave the room, but screaming if i try and pick her up as well. two weeks of bags under my eyes, messy buns because my hair is horribly greasy, and surviving purely on coffee.

i’m tired. my feet hurt because every time i sit, El screams at me. my head hurts from her screaming. and now my stomach cramps because i, of course, both started my period, and have not had a moment to eat all day. i’ve broken down in tears nearly every night once i finally get El to sleep, because i don’t know how much more of this i can take.

tears well up in my eyes at this very moment, and it takes everything in me to hold back my own screams. not necessarily directed at my daughter, but just in frustration. i can’t think clearly. it’s nearing midnight and i’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, but she just keeps fighting it.

i know she’s tired, just like i am. she’s been up since five in the morning, which means so have i.

“i give up.” i cry out, burying my face in my hands, weeping into them in frustration and exhaustion. “i get it, El. you want your father. i know. please, i know.”

El’s cries pause and i peek through my fingers to see her watching me with a tilted head, before she bursts back into tears.

i steel my spine, wiping my own tears, and strengthening myself. i rise from the couch, scooping my daughter up, despite her smacks to my chest and pulls on my now-falling-out bun, and shuffle towards her bedroom.

going for the last ditch effort, i grab the hidden pacifier in her top dresser drawer, and pop it into her mouth before turning on the white noise machine in the corner and placing her in her crib.

i gaze down at her, watching as she yawns, tears still slipping from her eyes. her eyelids flutter closed before she pries them back open and stares back at me.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes, you have to sleep.” i scold in a whisper.

retreating from the room, closing the door and listening for her wails; i nearly cry in relief when nothing comes. nothing but silence and the sound of the white noise.

my feet pad across the wooden floors as i walk to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for El’s possible whines. too drained to make myself anything sustainable, i settle for a yogurt cup and a cheese stick. bringing my snacks with me into Jack and i’s bedroom, i settle under the blankets.

i have no energy to put into paying attention to a show or movie, and not nearly enough to read a book; so i sit in silence, staring at the wall as i eat.

placing the now empty yogurt cup on my nightstand, i pick at the cheese stick, lost in thought.

i’m struggling.

i feel like a single parent half the time.

i’m not sure how actual single parents do it. the ones who have to work and take care of their children. because parenting in and of itself is a full time job.

i know it’s not fair of me to think so little of myself, but i can’t help feeling like a horrible mother. she never wants me anymore; only ever yearning for Jack.

and i get it. i yearn for him too when he’s gone.

but can’t she be happy with me?

i miss the sound of the front door shutting; too deep in my own head. too far gone in my own thoughts.

but i do hear the not-so-hushed whispers of my husband and his brother as they venture farther into the apartment.

i hear the ‘goodnight.’ from Luke before his bedroom door shuts. i hear the nursery door opening, the white noise from the room getting louder. and then a few minutes later, i hear the nursery door click shut and the sound of my husbands footsteps getting closer down the hall before our bedroom door opens.

my cheese stick is long gone, and my fingers now settle for playing with each other. my nails picking at the others as i still sit in a catatonic state of exhaustion; staring at the wall in front of me.

Jack lets out a breath of surprise when he notices i’m awake in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“hey, lovie.” he leans down, his fists pressing down on the mattress top, and lays a swift kiss on my cheek before rising back up to his full height.

i glance over as he throws Eleanor’s pacifier onto his nightstand.

“i thought we agreed no more pacifiers when she turned one? she hasn’t had one in the past month.” he huffs, stripping his shirt off and throwing it towards the hamper in the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing by an inch. he eyes the shirt for a millisecond before shrugging and repeating the process with his pants, this time making it in the hamper.

“yeah, well, you weren’t here to attend to her screams and i was.” i retort.

“so you resorted to the paci?” he questions, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser drawer.

“stop mom-shaming me.” i snap, scooting down and flopping onto my side, my back facing Jack.

“lovie.” he sighs. the bed dips as he sits behind me. “that’s not what i was doing.”

“yes. you were.” i accuse. “you’re saying i’m a bad mom for giving my daughter what she needed in order to fall asleep.”

i turn in the bed to look up at him and he parts his lips to speak, but i keep going.

“but you weren’t here, Jack. you didn’t hear her cries, or have to try every trick in the book to calm her down. you weren’t awake with her for nineteen hours with no nap only to still have her fight bed time. so, yes, i resorted to the pacifier. and ya know what? it worked.”

“i get that you’re in a bad mood, but why are you taking it out on me? i wasn’t even here for you to get angry at me.” he remarks.

“i’m not.” i deny, closing my eyes and hoping he’ll take it as a sign to just let me sleep.

“you are.” he grunts. “and it makes me feel like i’m the bad guy for doing my job.”

“well, i wouldn't have to do this all alone if it weren't for your fucking job.” i know as soon as i say it that my words were uncalled for. but, before i can take them back, Jack stands from the bed, making my eyes fly open to look at him.

“do i not help when i’m home? i’m so sorry that me providing for our family is so hard for you.” he sneers. his sarcasm is not appreciated, and i sit up in the bed in anger. “i’m so sorry that you have to be a mother, while i’m gone making money so that you don’t have to work.”

i shuffle onto my knees on the bed, glaring daggers at my husband.

“when have i ever complained about being a mother? and when have i ever said that i don’t want to work? i never asked to stay at home! but it’s what i do, because not both of us can work without putting El in daycare. which you said you didn’t want to do.”

my finger juts at my chest before poking his. my words harsh in delivery, but quiet in attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby down the hall.

“i never once complained about being a mother. i love her.” i continue.

“are you implying that i don’t love her?” Jack fumes.

“i never said that!” i cry. “you’re putting words into my mouth!”

“i’m just trying to provide for us!” our attempted quiet is long forgotten now, and i can only hope that the white noise in El’s room is enough to mask our argument.

“you think i don’t know that?” i exclaim, he opens his mouth but i don’t let him get a word in. “i’m just saying that you don’t understand how exhausting it is being a single parent half the fucking hockey season! you leave and play games and go out to fucking bars to celebrate wins and i stay here and take care of our daughter, who for the past two weeks, only wanted you!”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, huffing in anger.

“well, i can’t help that! i get that it’s hard, but you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful. it’s part of my job to leave, y/n!”

of everything he’s said, it’s those words that cut me the deepest. and what hurts the most, as small as it may seem, is that within all of our fights, big or small, throughout our entire six years together, never once has he called me by my name while we fought.

it’s always ‘lovie’.

but suddenly, i’m ‘y/n’.

i lower myself onto my butt on the mattress. tears are streaming down my cheeks and i try to wipe them away before Jack can see them.

“now you’re gonna cry?” he lowers himself onto the bed and i push myself off of it in order to gain distance, now standing a couple feet away.

“i quit.” my voice is quiet and surrendered, my words sheltered. i watch as his face drops, lips parting in shock.

“what?” he mumbles, his eyes softening.

i shake my head, letting my tears flow freely now as i round the bed and i head toward the cracked open door.

“where are you going?” he questions, his tone still holding a dash of anger.

“to sleep in Luke’s room.” i reply. he calls after me but his words fall on deaf ears.

i need space.

i don’t bother knocking on Luke’s door, opening it to find him just now sitting down in bed, his hair wet and leftover steam drifting from his en-suite bathroom.

his head snaps over to the door as i close it, and at the sight of my tears, he pats the bed beside him.

a sob racks my chest as i crawl into bed with the boy i look at as a brother. he pulls me into his side, no words spoken between us as he rubs a hand over my hair, letting me cry into his chest and soak his plain white t-shirt.

a muffled cry escapes my lips and he squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss to my scalp. nothing needs to be said, no words needed to be shared, just quiet shushes and his hand rubbing up and down my back, the other still holding my head tight to his chest in grounding.

i’m not sure how long passes before i cry myself to sleep, Jack’s words echoing on a loop inside my head.

‘you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.’

***

i’m unsure what time it is when i awake, but Luke is gone from the bed, and the sun peeks through the bedroom window.

i know Luke and Jack have the day off, so if Luke is already up, then i must have slept in later than i usually do.

despite the apparent long sleep, i don’t feel as well rested as i should. my eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but at the sound of the familiar squeal of excitement from my daughter, drifting in through the crack in the door, my eyes fly back open.

i kick my legs free from the tangle of blankets and throw them over the side of the bed, peeling my tired body up off the mattress. i rub my eyes as i walk over to Luke’s bathroom, ignoring the mess amongst the counter and looking in the mirror.

my eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and i turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the cold running water and splashing it on my face before drying it with the hand towel that’s thrown haphazardly on the counter.

exiting the bathroom and bedroom, i’m immediately met with the sight of El’s smiling face bounding down the hall. her chubby little legs wobble as she runs.

“mama! dada!” she squeals, motioning behind her. a grin overtakes my lips at her excitement.

“yeah? is dada home?” i ask with a laugh as she runs smack into my legs, reaching up with grabby hands.

my heart melts in my chest. for the first time in two weeks, she wants me.

“mama! dada!” she repeats as i hoist her up, lifting her above my head and rejoicing in her giggles.

my eyes are all too soon drawn to my husband at the end of the hall. he stands leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips while my own falls at the sight of him.

our fight replays in my mind; flashes of his red face and his defensive stance. echoes of his harsh tone and his cruel words.

Jack approaches us, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips, but i shift my face, his lips landing on my cheek instead. pulling back, his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. it hurts me to see him upset, but i can’t bring myself to feel too bad, as i, too, am hurting.

i maneuver around him, padding down the hallway with El in my arms, making my way to the open layout of the living room and kitchen.

Luke is sat on the couch, eyes on his phone while Lilo & Stitch plays on the tv, and i flop down beside him. El crawls into his lap, pushing his phone out of the way and pushing her smiling face into his line of sight. i watch his eyes light up, sliding his phone into his pocket and tickling her sides.

a laugh escapes my lips as he lifts El upside down in front of his face, making her giggle contagiously. but once again, my lips fall back straight as Jack enters the room again.

the day continues like this, living amicably with Jack, but not happily. as the day goes on, the more i reflect on our fight the night prior, and the worse i feel. i was in the wrong. i knew that last night and i know it now.

i know leaving El is hard for him, just as taking care of her without him is hard for me. but my guilt doesn’t erase his words.

i know he didn’t mean it, just as he knows that i didn’t mean mine, but it still hurts. he cut deep. he accused me of being ungrateful, the very same thing he knows my parents called me when i told them i was moving out.

‘you’re so ungrateful. we offered you to keep living with us even after your graduation, and you’d rather move out with your unstable little boyfriend than live with the people who raised you. well, don’t come crawling back to us, we don’t take ungrateful children.’

a lump grows in my throat as i compare the fights. it’s nine at night and Jack is in El’s room, putting her to sleep, Luke long having retired to his own bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch. my knees are pulled up to my chest, my arms hugging them tight, as tears stream down my cheeks.

a small part of me tells me i should apologize. i know if i do, he will too. he already seems to want to move past it.

but the larger part of me says to wait. to let him apologize to me. to make him acknowledge that we fought. instead of brushing past it like it never happened.

Jack strides into the living room, child free, and it’s the first time we’ve really been alone together all day.

i avoid his gaze, rather wiping my tears and averting my eyes to the television, which still plays the credits of The Little Mermaid from our before bedtime movie.

he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. his hand reaches out to graze my leg and i flinch at the soft touch. the larger part of me wins and i rise from the couch, stalking off to our bedroom and away from him.

i quickly change into my pajamas, hoping to be out of the bedroom before he comes in, but i’m not so lucky.

he enters the room as i’m pulling my t-shirt over my head. my t-shirt. not his. he notices this change quickly and shakes his head.

he stands silently, his back leaning against the now closed door as i pull on sweatpants, watching my every move.

i move to the en-suite bathroom when i’m done. making quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth. when i finally finish with my nightly routine, i head back out to the still blocked bedroom door.

Jack eyes me up and down, and a quick wetting of his lips tells me he’s horny, but i laugh inside at the thought.

does me angry and upset, turn him on? does he really think he has any chance of getting lucky tonight when he hasn’t even apologized?

“can you move?” i huff, crossing my arms.

“where are you going now?” he questions, shaking his head.

“Luke’s room. again.”

“you know we have a bed, right? the one you were in last night before you left me alone in here.” his words twist my heart, but i stand my ground.

“oh, you mean the same bed i was sitting in when you implied that i’m ungrateful and selfish?” i mock, tilting my head.

“lovie.” his tone is defensive enough to let me know that he doesn’t plan on apologizing tonight, so rather than waiting and hoping for Jack to move, i push him aside lightly with my shoulder and slip through the door.

i knock lightly on Luke’s door and it doesn’t take long for him to open it, letting me slip through into the room.

“you guys are still fighting?” Luke asks, shutting the door and walking over to sit on his bed.

“i promise, this is the last time i’ll sleep in your room. if we’re still fighting tomorrow night, i’ll sleep on the couch.” i assure him, crawling up the bed and laying on my side, facing him.

“i don’t have a problem with you sleeping in here, lovie.” he sighs, laying down on his side so that we lay face to face. “i’ve just never seen you guys fight like this, ya know? you guys are usually so in love, it just scares me to see you fight. i want the best for both of you.”

my eyes soften and i raise my hand, running it softly through Luke’s unruly curls.

“Lukey, i’m still madly in love with your brother. one fight isn’t gonna change that.” i tell him. “he said some things that hurt me. i said things that i’m sure hurt him too. but we’ll get through this. we love each other.”

i speak with assurance, but at this point, i’m not sure if i’m reassuring Luke, or myself.

“you should go to sleep, bubs. you have practice in the morning.” i press a kiss to Luke’s forehead before he turns his bedside lamp off and flops down on his side, his back now facing me.

i follow suit, my back facing Luke as i close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

***

i’m woken up by little hands smacking my cheeks, immediately followed by the sound of my husbands whispers.

“oh no, El, we don’t smack mommy. we’re gentle.” he tells her softly, and soon after, i feel her open mouth press against my cheek; her version of a kiss.

my eyes flutter open and i’m met by the smiling face of my daughter. she’s held hovering above me by Jack, who seems worried for my reaction.

“hi, baby!” i coo, a smile stretching over my lips as i take her from him. “good morning, beautiful!”

“mama!” she cheers, followed by a steady stream of babbling.

“she woke up a couple hours ago. she was looking for you.” Jack tells me. “i just changed her diaper, and she already ate breakfast, but i noticed she’s been chewing on everything this morning, so i threw a couple of her teething toys in the freezer and she’ll probably want a popsicle soon to sooth her gums.”

i look up at him and nod, acknowledging that i heard him, before i sit up and lay El down on the bed, tickling her tummy and listening to her joyous giggles fill the room.

“Luke and i are off to practice, we’re running late.” he runs his hand over El’s hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead before turning to look at me again. “Luke said he wants to take El to the park after we get back. he said for me to ask you if you can have her dressed and her diaper bag ready for when he and i get back.”

“yeah, i can do that.” i reply and he nods, pushing off the bed and laying a kiss on my own forehead before he leaves the room.

i heave out a sigh, looking down at El, who’s already looking up at me.

“you wanna go take a shower with mommy?” i baby talk, pasting a smile back on my face. she smiles right back, grabbing at my shirt. “yeah, you do. you love showers, don’t you? my little water baby.”

*

El is all dressed and ready to go when Jack and Luke arrive home, while i stick the last snack into her diaper bag.

“hey, lovie.” Luke chimes, throwing an arm around my shoulder and squeezing my head into his chest. “she ready?”

“mhm! she should be good to go.” i confirm as i push out of his hold, stuffing the bag into his arms instead. “you have the stroller, right?”

“yeah, i’m taking Jack’s car and it’s already in the trunk.” he confirms, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder and scooping his niece up from where she was already staring up at him by his legs.

“alright, say bye-bye to mommy and daddy!” Luke sings out, waving to us. El copies him, waving her entire arm about in order to wave goodbye, and with that, they’re out the door; leaving Jack and i in silence.

i busy myself by picking up the toys strewn about the living room floor, while Jack unloads the dishwasher. but tension lingers in the air.

maybe i should just apologize.

i hate this feeling.

i hate not being cuddled up with him right now.

we usually spend any El free hours curled up in our bed. napping, watching a movie, talking, or just taking part in general bedroom activities.

but instead, we’re across the room from each other, doing daily household chores and trying hard to avoid the screaming silence between us.

i drop a barbie into the toy box and stand up straight, looking towards my husband, who’s already staring at me with gentle eyes.

“i’m sorry.” i sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, holding my hands to my face. “i hate fighting.”

his hurried footsteps click against the wooden floors, stopping when he gets in front of me. his hands come up to mine, delicately pulling them away from my face before his arms encircle my waist.

“i hate it too.” he whispers, and i know his words hold a double meaning. he hates fighting and he hates leaving.

“i shouldn’t have said the things that i did. i shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” i let my head bob forward, my forehead laying against his chest. “i was tired, and i was angry at the situation, but not at you. never at you. you’re providing for our family, and i’m so glad that you get to do that by doing something you love.”

he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my scalp.

“i’m sorry too.” he mumbles against me.

“i’m sorry for making it seem like i was mom-shaming you, i should’ve chosen my words more carefully. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i’m sorry for accusing you of saying i don’t love her, i know that’s not what you were saying. and most of all, i’m sorry for implying that you were ungrateful. you’re not. i know you’re not. i should’ve never implied that you were.

“you’re an amazing mom, lovie. the best i could’ve ever hoped for El. i should’ve been more understanding about how hard it is for you to take care of her alone while i’m gone.”

i peer up at him, my chin still resting on his chest, and give him a pointed look.

“and i’m sorry for not calling you ‘lovie’.” he huffs out through a laugh. the corners of my mouth quirk up and i pull his head down to push our lips together.

my whole body melts even further into his, finally at peace for the first time in over two weeks.

[galeorderbride]

Hiii!!

I discovered your account recently, and I'm a fan! This strengthens my love for Gale even more! I have a request, is it possible to use the following prompts :

3)Touching foreheads

7) Kissing scars

11)Sharing secrets

41)Washing each other hairs

52)Crying into their shoulder

60) sitting in their lap

i will probably ask for others prompt later ahah!

thanks you so much 🖤

Thank you for the request!! I’m stoked to know I’ve helped strengthen your love for everyone’s favourite rizzard lol. And send as many prompts as you like!

Your prompt awaits:

Rated: M (Gale and Tav sharing a bath, non descriptive nudity).

Gale x F!tav

Words: 1652

...

Wash my Troubles Away

Baths were always the way Tav chose to unwind after a stressful day. Before the nautiloid, and after, although she’d been seriously lacking in access. In all honesty, she was surprised it took this long for her to break down. Months on the road, toiling through endless swaths of blood, shit and tears with the onus on them to solve everyone’s problems. At first, Tav enjoyed helping, seeing new friends suffer a little bit less in such a difficult society. Once they reached Rivington, however, her patience ran drier than a dead fountain. 

Thankfully, they found the Elfsong, where a private bathroom awaited. As soon as the fee was paid, Tav thought about taking a bath—craved it. A space to calm her muscles and cry out her troubles without drawing attention. 

Hot water flowed against her naked back, bubbling with lavender oil and sudsy soap, emanating the scent of vanilla and oat. Tav tucked her legs to her chest, curling into a ball of frustration and embarrassment as she couldn’t stop crying. Tav needed more resilience than this. Facing the end of the world required stalwart bravery, and she was having a meltdown over finding gold for a bank manager. How in the hells was she supposed to take down a giant brain? 

Meanwhile, everyone else had no problem being selfish. A toy maker set explosives in his own products, totally willing to kill children to save his own skin. Idiots tying up Volo just because he was talking about the things they wanted to ignore. Ironhand gnomes masking abusive bigotry with a shining cause. Tav was tired of everyone’s bullshit, making excuses for themselves, taking zero responsibility when she had no other option but to face problems head on. 

Her self pity was interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door. The sound of a lilted, erudite voice coming through the wood: 

“Mind if I come in, love?” 

Gale appeared in the doorway after Tav agreed he could enter. Holding fresh towels and a wicker basket of different bath products, looking brand new as if he’d just returned from an apothecary. Tav splashed water in her face to mask the puffiness of her eyes, as if her detail oriented wizard would ever let a thing like that get past him. 

“You seem like you could use some company. And so far, I’ve been very skilled and…calming you down, so to speak. I fetched some products from Bonecloak’s, all your favourite scents. Jasmine, pomegranate, aloe vera. If you’d prefer to be alone, know you won’t offend me. I just wanted to give you these so you know someone is thinking about you,” he said. 

Tav turned her head, grinning as best she could, easier because of his presence. Since their romance had begun, he was the only one virtually incapable of annoying her. He always knew what to say, always understood the right words or actions to keep her grounded. No one had been such a positive force in her life, and every morning, no matter how terrible, she thanked the stars for finding that unstable portal. 

“I’m not enviable company at the moment, but yours, would surely heal my weary heart,” Tav replied. 

Gale smiled, “No matter how you’re feeling, there is no one in the realms I’d rather spend my time with.” 

Times like this were when Tav didn’t believe she deserved his sweetness. Doting on her out of an adoration she couldn’t figure out. He placed the bottles on a tiny stool beside the tub, undressing so he could join her in a warm, sudsy water, snapping his fingers with a little magic to heat it back to ideal temperature. He made use of the large, circular space as he sunk in behind her, enveloping her in a comforting embrace as she rested her back onto his chest. Little hairs tickled her skin, causing her to chuckle for the first time all day. 

Careful movements of his fingertips massaging her scalp sent shivers down Tav’s spine. Scents of pomegranate and jasmine soothed her sinuses, letting the hot water pour down her head, through strands of clean hair. Tension from her muscles seemed to dissolve with each considerate touch, Gale’s hands created to caress her skin. When he finished, he wrapped his arms around her, rocking her back and forth as they both watched the window ahead. A clear night gifted them glimmering stars, a cool breeze whistling out of a crack in the insulation. Tav leaned back, resting her head in the crux of Gale’s shoulder as she closed her eyes. A few, stray tears fell from her eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden comfort of her magical lover lifting her through the ache of evening. 

Gale didn’t press her for reasons, didn’t rush to solve the problem when he noticed her tears. He just held her, waited in solidarity until she was ready, happy to let her sink into his life force to refresh her own. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said with a tearful chuckle, “You must think I’m ridiculous. Crying for no reason like this.” 

“Well, my love, your mind may be telling you that there is no reason, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. With all our travels, all the weight on your shoulders, you have every reason to cry. You’re more resilient than you think, I’d have crumbled long ago,” he said. 

Tav looked up at him, in utter admiration for his thoughtfulness, his beauty, everything. If she could, she’d sing his praises for a thousand years, to make up for all the times Mystra never did. Or anyone else who didn’t care to see the magnificence of him. 

Her fingers traced up his collarbone, around the mark the orb left that paved a path to his wonderful neck. A forced tattoo sunk into the surface of his skin, binding him to his well intentioned folly. Their foreheads touched as Gale lowered his head, wishing desperately that he could hold every

 part of her at the same time. Mage hands and mirror images weren’t enough, it had to be him. 

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told anyone before?” He asked, words hanging on between their breaths, lips hovering over each other but never quite meeting. 

“Hmm, you’ve already told me about Mystra. And that you haven't spoken to anyone in over a year until me. Oh, and that you get excited when you see me bloody after a fight. What else could there possibly be?” She asked, flirtatiously smiling at him with her eyelids batting just the way he liked. The smirk he made when he saw it was irresistible. 

Gale chuckled, “This one is far less serious, but might be what you need to hear in this moment.” 

They adjusted slightly, Gale sitting up as he pulled his arm out of the water. Just above his elbow was a superficial scar, raised tissue blending in with the rest of his skin. An uneven line travelling up his arm, about three inches long. Wherever he got it from, it had to be years ago. 

“People don’t notice this scar much anymore, not with the giant black circle on my chest. But people used to. I’d tell them it was from a kitchen knife,” he said, “But…really I accidentally set fire to my neighbour’s rose bushes when I was a child. I was trying to conjure, and the fire got away from me. Singed my arm in the process.” 

Tav turned, scooching further onto his lap as she examined his arm. She couldn’t help but laugh, “That’s your secret? Ruining a bush?” 

“Not just any bush. A rose bush. One of the most beautiful I’d ever seen. I’d pass by those roses every day, stare at them for a minute or two. Just to see something be so effortlessly perfect in its imperfection. They simply grew that way, and then I destroyed them. All I could do was cry, sob over how I tarnished something so innocent and pretty for my own sake. I don’t talk about it because…well, it’s silly, but it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt. It’s stayed with me my entire life, and the burn scar only serves as a beacon for it,” he explained. 

“Even worse than what happened with Mystra?” She asked, grazing her fingertips across the uneven line of the scar. Eyes stuck to the mark as if it was the last thing she’d ever see. 

Gale hesitated, taking a heart wrenching pause. Tav noticed his eyes staring ahead, fixated on the window. A heavy, unsaid energy hung over him.  

“It was the catalyst. For everything. Had I not set fire to that bush, Elminster never would’ve found me. And then I’d never have attracted Mystra’s attention. A boring existence…but maybe a better one,” he said, voice trailing along the waves of his melancholic thoughts. 

Instead of responding, giving him a treatise on how he didn’t need to feel guilty anymore and burning a flower bush wasn’t a definer of his total character, she pressed her lips against the burn scar. Counting her kisses for every year of remorse he felt since setting that fire ball. Ever since their first night together, he slowly began to shed that overconfident veneer, more comfortable to show her the parts of him that hurt, the deep cuts that both of them wished they could bury. 

“Seems we both have a guilt problem,” Tav said. “Come here.” 

Tav moved to straddle his lap, taking the ceramic bowl and filling it with the warm, soapy water. Gale rested on her shoulder, as if on impulse, while she poured the liquid down the long strands of chestnut hair. Running her shampooed hands across his scalp, satisfied every time she heard his happy moans against the scratch of her nails. After rinsing, she kissed the top of his head. 

“Thank you for telling me a secret,” she said, “I’ll tell you one of mine tomorrow.”

[cancerian-woman]

Hi! I hope I don’t word this wrong, so sorry if I do, but if Hope had a black/non-white mother, do you think the Mikaelsons would’ve treated her differently? I think you (or maybe it was someone else) spoke about how they treated Marcel was part because he wasn’t blood related to them and part to do with race, so I thought it would be interesting (?) Again, sorry if this is worded weird, I don’t mean it too

Hi, I get what you meant no worries. I’m gonna answer this backwards though lol. Long post warning. I had to grab my receipts.

Yes, Marcel is treated differently because of his race but that’s because the writers 1.) needed the diversity quota filled and 2.) wrote dynamics in for anti-blackness to exist. The narrative that the black child couldn’t heal a family but Hope the white one will. Suddenly having more black/of color actors in the cast but only because white characters are using their bodies. Slavery. That’s relatively differently than a woman of color in Hayley’s spot. Hayley existed as the werewolf queen, girl with no parents who had a child and wants better for her…

Before I say my thoughts I don’t think Phoebe Tonkin had to do much to get her role as Hayley. Kevin Williamson loved her and wanted her in TVD, TSC was done. Then she got Hayley in TVD. She knew she was doing a spin-off.

No black woman or WOC would have gotten the role that easy. I’m calling a spade a spade. The industry wasn’t taking a big risk on black women(and of color) leading TV back then Kerry Washington spoke on this. This is different from sitcoms that targeted just black audiences if that makes sense.

Hypothetically speaking if the lead of TO was a woman of color I assume to make the show successful still amongst their racial bias to someone the writers would do the work to make the character enjoyable on-screen for everyone. Making a black woman/of color a lead is an intentional choice. For example Kat Graham(listen around the 3minute mark) has recently shared that she could only audition for Bonnie. No one else was considered for her and she was presented Bonnie. See how that’s very different from Phoebe’s experience? If Hayley is black/of color then Hope would be biracial, that is something the writers would have to grow within the characters. You cannot ignore that.

To end this off I would hope and imagine"Hayley" as a black woman or whomever filled the position was treated fairly and accepted within the character and through the actress. I don’t think the Mikaelsons would have done wrong by her. They loved Hayley. Dysfunctional yes but they did care for her.

Using Kat Graham’s experiences as examples you can’t Bamon Ban a lead’s relationships, you can’t kill off every black person related to her, intentionally sideline a minority and underpay a minority. You can’t be on Twitter (Julie) bashing their fans and them. Or having a meltdown because said black woman is paired with your fave man and more. Hell, Kat Graham wasn’t allowed to attend cons with the main cast until the later seasons. Joseph Morgan actually went before she did.

The fanbase would not have been as welcoming to a black woman in the role and definitely not to a biracial child in the plot. I’ve said it before in various spaces and gotten backlash but even Hope has more characteristics that tie her to Bonnie than her own mother but it pisses people off lmao.

Hope I answered this well for you💜

[drdemonprince]

Can we really expand our window of tolerance as autistic people? I’ve been working on that kind of thing for so long and I can’t tell if I’ve made any genuine progress or if I’ve just unconsciously doubled down on masking :(

We can! But our expanded distress tolerance can't come out of nowhere. Something has to give. So for example, for me, I have way fewer sensory issues these days than I used to have, by a wide margin, and I have significantly less social anxiety and don't need much social recharge time on the level that I used to. I have more distress tolerance for sensory input and for social stressors now than I ever have before -- but this has required lifestyle changes and unmasking in order to get there. Let me break down both these improvements and how they happened:

Even as recently as a year ago, I would have terrible sensory meltdowns on a regular basis. But I haven't had a single sensory meltdown in months, maybe not even a single one for the entirety of 2023 so far? And that's because I have a) cut out caffeine, dramatically reducing my physiological stress levels, b) cut back on some workplace stress by reducing my commitments, c) stopped taking on additional projects outside of work that I didn't want to do and that only caused me stress (workshops and talks), and d) began working from home far more consistently, and made myself a wfh office that is more comfortable.

Now I operate from a really solid base of sensory comfort most days and I'm not overloaded with information or overwhelmed with obligations. This means I am far more tolerant of screaming people on the bus, the upstairs toddler slamming her feet on the floor, ambulances blaring by, noisy concerts, people bumping into me at the bar, etc.

I also am, for the first time in my life, clear-headed enough to recognize when I am starting to experience sensory distress, and can intentionally put on sunglasses or pop in ear plugs or remove myself from an upsetting situation more quickly. I had to experience what being relaxed and not overstimulated felt like, and get accustomed to living that way, in order to recognize subtler signs that I was feeling shitty and take steps to address those small annoyances before they exploded. I can handle a lot "more" in an intentional way now because I built my life to allow "less." My overall distress tolerance has still expanded -- but it's because I stopped masking and began attending to my sensory and stress regulation needs.

For the social piece, my distress tolerance has also gone up due to unmasking. If I was still motivated by passing as NT or being socially acceptable all the time, I'd be so overwhelmed being around people and worn down by every interaction. I also wouldnt be able to advocate for myself. But in the past few years I've become more and more openly weird and outspoken in my needs and true feelings, and I've recognized that the right people actually love me more when I do so and show up for me, and so being honest or even difficult to deal with is not really a threat.

This means I just don't experience much distress being honest or difficult to deal with anymore. I really can tolerate the discomfort of telling someone they're wrong or that I'm hurt without freaking out about being hurt or abandoned, because I've had a lot of good experiences with it and because I enjoy being unmasked so deeply that I just can't put my personality back in a bottle.

Masking lowers distress tolerance because it frays your nerves with stress and wears you out and bars you from ever getting to attend to and regulate your discomfort when there are signs of it happening. In order to increase your distress tolerance, you actually have to learn to better honor your discomfort early, and preventatively, so that you don't bubble over into a meltdown after days or weeks of ignoring your needs.

I think some people think distress tolerance is about becoming more tough, but it's quite the opposite. We become more resilient by getting better at recognizing and attending to our hurts.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

As an autistic person, I want to say something about The Good Doctor.

Over the last month or so - but especially the last two days - Twitter has gone nuts about dragging the absolute piss out of this show. Because autism representation is so rare in major television shows or movies, I’ve been finding myself questioning whether The Good Doctor is in fact “good” representation in the slightest or if I’m just clinging onto it because it’s one of the few shows out there with an autistic lead… and people dragging the shit out of it has made me even more unsure because I’ve only seen one and a half seasons of the show so far and so I can’t really speak on how the show has done recently in regards to portraying autism.

Personally, do I feel that Shaun in TGD represents me and how I am autistic? No. But to be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to because autism is a spectrum and the areas where my autism affects my life will be different to other people’s; it’s also worth noting that it’s been shown that autistic traits are different in girls than in boys, and that girls tend to mask more etc. Obviously this does not apply to ALL boys and ALL girls, but in general it’s thought that girls and women tend to have different traits to boys and men.

With this in mind, Shaun actually does remind me at times of a child at the school I’m currently at - again, not 100% the same but there’s similarities in regards to how they talk, what they say etc. However, that child is five-nearly-six, and Shaun is a grown man so… do with that information what you will. There have also been a couple of moments I’ve had so far watching the show where it’s seemed like lightening has struck and I’m like “Oh that’s me!” - namely the social awkwardness and a meltdown scene. It’s not every episode, it’s only on occasion, but it’s been nice to see nonetheless because the only other time I’ve witnessed that with an actual confirmed autistic character is Newt Scamander.

Obviously I don’t speak for all autistic people, and I’m very aware that many other autistic people have expressed dislike and criticism of the show - and I get it, I truly do. I do think the show isn’t exactly the best written (to put it nicely) and that it gives a very stereotypical representation of autism, namely “white boy/man autism”. I don’t want to bash the show too much because while I’ve seen complaints about it, I’ve also had some fellow autistic people say to me that they love the show and that they feel Shaun represents them - and that’s great.

I do want to express my discomfort about the fact that people have turned a scene where Shaun is having a meltdown into a meme. There is a very fine line between criticizing a piece of media for bad representation and then mocking autistic meltdowns - and I think a lot of neurotypicals are in fact just using it as an excuse to laugh at autistic people and mock us. It’s not just that scene either: I’ve seen people mocking clips showing how he stands, how he talks, how he interacts with people, and it very much feels like people just wanted a chance to make ableist comments about autistic people.

It’s also interesting that this show has so far had six whole seasons air, it’s got extremely high viewership, and yet it’s only now that people are taking offence to a scene that occurred at least four years ago. I know that Twitter has had a field day over another scene in the first season where Shaun at first struggles to understand why a trans woman is “she” (which, you know, is a whole other kettle of fish given that I’ve seen it claimed that autistic people are more likely to be trans/NB etc), and far right TERFs/bigots were using that scene as some kind of “gotcha!”… right up until it was pointed out that by the end of the episode, Shaun fully accepted the trans woman’s gender identity and used the correct pronouns.

Again, I’m not saying this was brilliant writing or anything, but it was several years ago and is only now being brought up, same with other scenes taken out of context in the show… Yes, autistic people have voiced grievances with it before, but were ignored - I don’t believe for one minute that the neurotypicals making the memes and being preachy give one shit about actually autistic people or care about us, because otherwise why were our voices ignored before? It’s only now that it’s been getting public notice for the trans episode that people are going “ohhhh this show sucks and is bad representation” as if members of the autistic community haven’t voiced that opinion for years. It just rubs me the wrong way quite frankly.

What I will say is that I’m tired of seeing people drag Freddie Highmore though. He’s a good actor, anyone who’s seen him in things he’s done since his childhood will know that, it’s not his fault if he’s given shit scripts to work with. I do also think Freddie means well with his portrayal, even if he’s (as far as we know) allistic and the fact he appeared in an Autism $peaks video (because of TGD/all the cast did it) - the man has zero social media presence whatsoever though and didn’t even know what Pokémon Go was, so I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt this time and assume he truly hasn’t been informed about how harmful that organisation is. Or maybe I’m just going soft on him because seven year old me had an age appropriate crush on him eighteen years ago, who knows at this point?

I’m hoping all of this talk will open up a dialogue about the show and about the representation of autism, if nothing else.

[veeluvss]

fire alarm

autistic!jj who is affected by the fire alarms

this is the first fic i’ve properly written with jj being autistic, pls share your thoughts with me and let me know if you want more … or less

elle and hotch help (mainly elle)

sorry it’s taken me so long to upload new things, i’ve been super busy with uni and life in general :)

Elle could tell from a mile off. The anxious looks, the finger tapping, the quiet cloud that just came over her. She shot Hotch a look and they both glanced to JJ who was ready to break down any moment. It hadn’t come as a shock either, which was thankful - in a way.

Only half an hour before, the entire building was evacuated due to a fire alarm. They were herded like cattle down the stairs. No one could see their feet, their hands - nothing. It honestly felt like they were on the way to the slaughter house. And then the loudness of the alarm, blaring through the entire building. JJ hated it - yet she tried to keep herself composed. She was better than it. She could do it. She was going to be okay - that’s all she kept telling herself.

They managed to get back into the building after being outside for twenty minutes but the bullpen was a mess. People had just up and left so quickly. Hotch had called the team into the round table room to debrief on the rest of the days plans just as JJ was on her way to the bathroom. She couldn’t miss the debrief so she quickly followed the rest of them. She sat in her normal seat, next to Derek. However, he seemed to be completely oblivious to JJ’s struggles and was going on about how stressful the whole ordeal was. Spencer went along with it, spitting statistics about fires which only panicked JJ more.

Elle knew something needed to happen very soon before JJ had a complete meltdown. Hotch knew too.

“Right, Morgan and Reid, I want you to go down to the terrorist unit and get the files for the recent case. Garcia, we need the names and numbers for the families involved. Rossi if you get started on the directors report please.”

The team members mentioned left the room in a hurry and Elle moved to sit beside JJ. Hotch closed the blinds, shut off the lights and put a do not disturb sign on the door before leaving them alone.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Elle asked gently, putting her hand on top of JJ’s trembling one as it reached to her face to pick at it again.

“So loud,” JJ whimpered, shaking her head.

“It was really loud but it’s nice and quiet in here. It’s just you and me.”

“Hold,” JJ asked, avoiding eye contact. Elle moved closer to JJ and wrapped her in a tight embrace. JJ needed the deep pressure therapy - it helped calm her so well and Elle was proud she recognised that was what she wanted and asked for it.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now baby,” Elle sighed, squeezing JJ. JJ buried her head deep into Elle’s neck, hiding from the room.

Half an hour later, JJ was feeling much better. She’d calmed down completely and sat in Garcia’s office with her headphones on. Hotch let her off from work for the rest of the day, to relieve the pressure but she didn’t want to go home on her own. Elle still had work to do and they thought it’d be easier for her to be with Garcia. Someone fun, in a small space with little noise or disturbances. She sat on the floor, under the desk in her small safe space whilst playing her Marvel game.

However, it wasn’t long until another fire alarm ripped through the building. JJ didn’t notice at first, too engrossed in her game but then Garcia pulled off her headphones and reached for her hand.

“We have to go Jay,” Garcia said but JJ’s eyes were wide. She didn’t want to do that - not again. She shook her head and turned into the wall, closing her eyes tight and covering her ears. Garcia didn’t know what to do. She opened her door and looked around - just as Elle came round the corner.

“Oh thank goodness, she won’t move,” Garcia said, panicked.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You go,” Elle said. She crouched down beside JJ and reached for her but JJ threw up her hands, hitting Elle away.

“JJ, we have to leave now,” Elle told her sternly, ignoring the pain in her wrist.

“No, no no no no, I can’t!” JJ screamed, covering her ears and cowering further in.

“Agent, you need to leave-” a security guard said from the door.

“Give me a minute,” Elle replied, turning back to JJ.

“Come on love please, I’ll be there the whole time. We can go to the back we just have to get out,” Elle pleaded.

“I can’t,” JJ sobbed.

Elle sighed, there was no way JJ was moving and Elle couldn’t leave her. “Darling here, come into my arms.” JJ cried but moved over to Elle. She covered her ears and collapsed into Elle’s arms.

“Ma’am please, you have to evacuate,” the guard said again.

“God, I’m trying okayy.” Elle replied.She was trying her best not to explode at him. JJ was her priority, and the last thing she was going to do was force her to leave before she was ready. This has been a stressful enough day for JJ and she was not making it worse.

“Can’t go, I can’t,” JJ sobbed to Elle.

“Jay, we have to.” Elle stood up and pulled JJ with her. It was a struggle, it was hard and JJ fought. As soon as they got down the stairs, the younger girl collapsed to the floor again, shaking in fear. She swung at anyone who came near her and screamed at Elle from across the car park. The team watched on, as well as the many other FBI agents who had also been evacuated. No one could help the small girl as she screamed, rocked and cried - she wouldn’t accept any of it.

“Stay here with her, I’ll go grab her things. She needs to go home,” Hotch said to Elle after the building was deemed safe again. Elle nodded, agreeing JJ had to go home.

“Jay,” Elle whispered, moving closer to the trembling girl. Her hands were over her ears and her eyes shut tight. Elle rubbed her back, “We’re going to go home now.”

JJ nodded, removing her hands from her ears and agreeing : “Home.”

“Home, let’s go.” Elle smiled. She got JJ in the car as they waited for Hotch to bring her stuff. Elle put her belt on and stroked her hair to keep her settled. JJ was fiddling with her fingers so Elle grabbed a spare fidget toy from the glove box. JJ took it, signing a quick thank you, then played absentmindly.

Hotch came back down and handed Elle the bag. “Take a few days, both of you.”

JJ stimmed the whole way home, her hands fiddled with her fidget toy and she rocked back and forth in the passenger seat. Elle kept the music on a low volume wie and put gentle tunes on, as to not overwhelm her girl. It had beena tough day but Elle knew JJ was strong and knew she could get through it.

thank you to @cmfan2005 for the edits!!!

[doberbutts]

As Disability Discourse 2.0 crosses my dash yet again I am left sort of wondering where the line is.

I am physically disabled. I am also neurodivergent. I do not consider myself mentally ill but I know that there are people out there with my exact diagnoses that do consider themselves mentally ill.

I have a brain injury. You can point to it on an MRI. I have the images to prove it. I had to re-teach myself how to speak. Those weird typos I have sometimes? Yeah my brain just reads letters wrong and sometimes spits out the wrong word or tense or grammatical structure sorry, that’s what happens when your brain gets shaken around in your head like a maraca following a serious car accident. I have a permanent tremor in my right hand and arm which results in me being incapable of fine motor control when having a flare. I am photosensitive and relatively intolerant of stress. I knocked an eye loose and was thankfully able to keep it but occasionally need to cover it or else it feels like someone is stabbing me directly in the brain when there is literally any light or movement whatsoever.

Did you know that over 30% of people who survive TBIs debate and even attempt to kill themselves within the first year? It’s still a bit unresearched but many neurologists believe it’s because many survivors have a hard time adjusting to their new normal when it feels like they have lost all control over themselves. I did not get that bad but I had many meltdowns where I would sob uncontrollably because it was all just Too Much, and the knowledge that it would be Too Much, Forever was curse over comfort.

Is that a mental or a physical disability? A part of my brain is damaged, like a scar. It is entirely neurological and mental in its symptoms.

I was diagnosed with a different brain condition, one that affects the autonomic nerve within my brain, causing fainting episodes, out-of-control mast cells, horrific digestive problems, and joints that bend a little too much. Average quality of life after diagnosis is roughly equivalent to someone with end stage heart failure.

A part of my brain is faulty and always has been. It is entirely physical in its symptoms. Is this a mental or physical disability?

My knee hurts. I was knocked off my bike one day on my way home from college. It was a hit-and-run driver and I didn’t have the money or the insurance to do more than slap a brace on it and limp around for several weeks while it healed. Less than a decade later it gave out. I was completely unable to walk for months. I lost my job. I ended up switching careers entirely so I could sit. I walk with a cane. I have to physically drag myself up stairs with my arms and my “good” leg. I spend nights grasping at my knee willing it to stop spasming as I try to get some sleep. I’ve had to beg for painkillers. Surgery will not help it. My knee is Completely Fucked, Forever.

This is a clear physical disability, that much is for sure.

I recently went to see Spiderverse. I warned my friend that it was entirely possible I’d need to duck out at some point because the movie would overwhelm me. I also warned her that I would probably need to immediately rest or go home and would not be able to hang out because I was anticipating it to be Sensory Hell. I went in prepared with my own snacks, tinted glasses to take the edge off the flashing, and even looked away during some of the worst of it.

I needed to duck out after an extended chase scene which featured a lot of flashing lights. I was able to come back and finish the movie. I needed nearly an hour of rest to stop shaking and be safe to drive myself home. I immediately went to bed upon getting home at about 4pm and by the time it was night had a pounding headache and shivers. I knew this would probably happen because the first one was very bad for my brain injury and I’d been pre-warned the second one was worse about it- truly I think it is really those movies’ biggest flaws is that they are very not friendly to people with problems with bright flashing lights.

My knee did not prevent me from entering the building. The theater was wheelchair accessible.

But even with sensory provisions, my brain injury and faulty nerve made it a monumental task to just finish a two and a half hour task of literally just sitting there.

I could go in. Staying was the part that was in question.

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey I dunno if you’ve gotten this before but. Do you have anything on autism and DID/OSDD? Specifically resources or accounts and such (since I’ve seen the positivity post)

I struggle with emotional dysregulation, big memory issues (huge chunks of childhood and adolescence missing, forgetting things constantly, dissociating emotions from memories, etc,) frequent daydreaming/spacing out/dissociation, that type of thing (and a bit more that’s a little too complicated to explain in an ask lol)

I’ve always kind of figured it was just part of me being autistic (I’m professionally diagnosed and definitely very autistic regardless lol), but I’ve recently gone down a bit of a rabbit hole relating to plurality and now I’m wondering if it could be a symptom of DID/OSDD instead/as well (I was originally looking at something else and stumbled into the tags somehow. The original thing that led me here was foxes. I think. And then I had a bit of a panic as I realized how some of the symptoms were VERY close to some of my experiences. Especially the memories.) but i also can’t tell if it’s just some sort of brain fog(???? Is that the correct term?) / alexithymia / Unknown Autism Trait 3 that nobody ever talks about and is difficult to find any sort of explanation or resources for. And my brain protested and had the equivalent of being on the verge of a sobbing meltdown or mental overload of some sort when I tried to think about stuff relevant to the topic so I don’t think it’s going to be of much help to me right now.

obviously not asking for diagnosis or to self diagnose at all (since. I understand you cant really do either of those /lh /nm) but I’m curious if any of you know of any resources relating to this specific type of stuff? I feel like I’d go insane trying to find any info on it. (And also I don’t think my brain would want to cooperate if I asked it to because it basically shuts down, gives me a headache, and turns to a pathetic wet sobbing cat whenever I try to think about the possibility so I doubt I’ll be identifying as anything anytime soon but. I want some stuff to think over at least.)

hey, we also are autistic and have dissociative identity disorder. unfortunately, there isn’t really too much research on the overlap between autism and complex dissociative disorder diagnoses at this time, that we know of, but we do think that autistic people may have a higher likelihood of dissociating and developing a cdd than neurotypical people.

we really love mike lloyd’s work at the ctad clinic, and he has an insightful video on the intersection of autism and dissociation here:

here is an open access paper by katherine e. reuben and ayden parish on dissociation as a symptom in autism - it’s an interesting read and wasn’t too difficult for us to parse:

also, here are a couple life experience pieces by folks with both did and autism:

our own autism has contributed to our trauma history in how we were treated, formed attachment, and understood the world as a child. for our own system, our autism and our did are inextricably linked. we are certain that many other autistic systems feel the same.

if exploring this possibility for yourself is causing you great distress, it may be for the best to put this off to the side for now until you have reached a point with more stability or a greater support system in your life. please don’t overwhelm or cause yourself harm by looking into this possibility on your own, if it is unhealthy for you.

if you are in therapy or have a mental health professional in your life who you trust, this would be an excellent thing to bring up to them. though hopefully these resources can help you get started learning about this topic if you have the spoons/ability to do so.

we are no medical expert or research professional, but we are happy to talk more about our personal experience of being both autistic and a did system if anyone would be interested. best of luck to you, anon, with figuring this out. we know how confusing and challenging it can be!

[buglord-isaac]

Ghost helps Soap - part 1

“Poor Scottish boy gives more care than he receives… he’s like the regiment’s personal therapist.”

Gaz sighed and took a swig of his drink. Ghost watched from his peripheral vision. He had been invited to Price’s room to drink by Price and Gaz, and had been unable to find an excuse fast enough to say no. He didn’t mind having a drink, that’s for sure. It calmed his tense nerves and even tenser body. And… he couldn’t complain about their alcohol stash. He hadn’t really been paying attention until he heard Gaz say the word ‘Scottish’. He knew then he was talking about Soap.

“Poor boy. I wonder what goes on in his head. He’s so young. Young at heart. I was surprised when I saw him get into the special forces at such a young age.”

Price drank too. Ghost knew what Price was saying was true. Price had been Soap’s mentor. His teacher. What he hadn’t known up until recently was that Soap had been the youngest in Britain to get into the special forces. It was rather impressive.

Ghost lifted his mask above his lips, drank a large gulp of his Kentucky, then pulled the mask back down as his teeth gritted from the burning sensation.

“His attitude… i can tell it’s a facade.”

This got Ghost’s attention fully.

“I’ve seen it. At meal times if he’s not sitting with us he’s staring into the distance with a frown. Sometimes when he’s alone he just covers his ears… poor thing…”

Ghost chimed in. “So why do you not care for him the way he cares for us?”

Ghost had his fair share of meltdowns, both by PTSD and by sensory overload. Soap had somehow been there each time, and he somehow knew exactly what to do. Whether it was to just be in his presence, to fetch his headphones, or to hug him, he had been there. Why was no one doing that for Soap?

“He refuses to admit he needs the help. He puts on his brave face. It’s convincing, that face.”

Ghost rolled his eyes, drank the last of his glass, and tensed his jaw. He cared for Soap. A lot. He had been there and willingly listened to his jokes, he would gladly chat to him for hours on end. Hell, Ghost would willingly stay up all night just to talk to him. The fact that Soap helped so many and no one lifted a finger to help him made his blood boil. Maybe it was the alcohol.

“I see him helping you out a lot, Ghost.”

No response. Ghost’s brain was ticking in its thoughts about the injustice of Soap never being helped.

“What’s going on with you and Soap anyway? You two seem to sp-“

“That’ll do!”

Ghost put his glass down, surprised it didn’t break from the force. He stood up and looked down at Price.

“Thanks for the whiskey, Price. But I have other things to do.”

“He’ll just pretend like he’s okay…”

“Too bad. If no one here will help him, I fucken will.”

[zebulontheplanet]

Hi! I have a question regarding your recent posts on catatonia. This is actually something I’ve been wondering about for a while now and I hope you have an answer. At first, it seemed like catatonia and autistic shutdowns where the same. I read that catanonia mostly occurred in people with schizophrenia, but could also be a symptom of autism, so I thought they were synonymous. Then I read that they weren’t, and I understood that the difference was in severity with catatonia being more severe and also lasting longer (hours to days). What you’ve described in your recent posts sounds a lot like what I thought were autistic shutdowns (which I’ve experienced in a similar way) and less like what I understood what catatonia to be. This isn’t me trying to tell you you’re experiencing a shutdown instead, I genuinely think I’ve misunderstood something and I’m hoping you could clear it up for me since I’ve clearly not had much luck with my own research. What is the difference between catatonia and autistic shutdowns?

Hey anon! This is a very good question that I didn’t really know the answer to for a hot minute.

So with my catatonia, I’ve been diagnosed with it. A doctor has confirmed it is indeed catatonia I’m experiencing and not something else. So there’s not really a doubt in my mind that it is catatonia. However, I do have autistic shutdowns as well, they’re actually more common than meltdowns for me so I can tell the difference pretty easily.

The difference for me, is that autistic shutdowns are caused by extreme emotions. They’re basically the opposite reaction of a meltdown. A lot of people refer to them as internal meltdowns cause they’re caused by extreme distressing things.

For me, catatonia can literally happen at any time. I could just be sitting there and boom, catatonia. Although it’s very common for me to have it when I’m starting a task. When I’m starting a task, I don’t feel every which way, it just sorta happens. My brain gets stuck.

Catatonia CAN get worse with intense emotions, and it can happen if you’re having an intense emotion, but that doesn’t mean you have to be having an intense emotion to experience catatonia. My catatonia gets worse with stress, but that doesn’t mean that my catatonia is a shutdown. Also to me, my catatonia is far more frequent than a shutdown. While a shutdown I have maybe once a week, I have catatonia maybe a few times a day.

From my understanding some doctors believe that shutdowns can lead to catatonia, but they still have a very distinct difference. Catatonia also comes with a variety of other symptoms, like no reaction to mild pain. While in a shutdown, I will personally react to mild pain.

Catatonia also comes with other issues, and my catatonia is really complex. From having semi-catatonic states that make me feel like I’m going through quicksand, to mutism, to so many other things. The lasting affects of catatonia are also not the same. While someone with a shutdown will eventually come out of their shutdown, catatonia can be more complex then that. From lasting hours to not being able to talk even after your catatonic episode.

I hope this explains some things! I’d also google “autism catatonia” there’s a few articles that explain it well! Many autistics with catatonia have lasting effects, like diminished social interactions and social isolation, and diminished ways that the person just behaves in general.

They’re very different and I hope this explains some! Im still not sure and my psych isn’t even sure if my catatonia is caused by my autism or by my Schizoaffective so we’re just shrugging our shoulders. Have a lovely day anon!

[gaysforbyler]

I have a few questions for autistic people as someone who’s trying to get a diagnosis. (A lot. I have a lot of questions)

What does being overstimulated feel like? Is sound supposed to actually hurt your ears? Because there are times where things get really loud and I want to turn the volume off, but my ears don’t feel sharp like they would with an ear infection. It’s more just like playing music too loudly. Is that what “hurting” means?

ALSO, on the same topic, my clothes never feel like too much on my skin. I’ve always had really bad sensory issues with clothes, to the point where I refused to wear jeans until I was twelve and “got over it” (pretended like I wasn’t dying). Now I just wear really baggy clothes. Is that why it never feels like my clothes are uncomfortable or tightening when I’m overwhelmed? Or do I just not suffer from that particular aspect?

And for meltdowns, I think I had one the other day, but it might have been an anxiety/panic attack? How do I know the difference? I aways thought that meltdowns were when I get overwhelmed and lash out at people, but I just learned that they can be crying as well. I had assumed those were anxiety attacks, because I have really bad social anxiety (SM, but for simplicity’s sake). What do meltdowns feel like? From what I heard on the very reliable news source TikTok, they have a lot to do with negative thoughts? So what’s the difference between crying because you’re upset, and crying because you’re having a meltdown?

A lot of people said that they don’t like when people touch them while it’s happening, but I never like when people touch me. They also said they stop speaking sometimes, but that’s me 24/7, so it’s not very helpful to me. And they also described it as wanting to die, but I always want to die. It HAS been getting worse recently after starting my new job that I’m super overwhelmed by, so could that be a sign? Whenever I’m there I just feel like the worst person to ever exist, and that everyone hates me, and I should just give up and quit (life, and the job)

Basically, I’m asking if I was just upset because I was stressed out, or if that was a meltdown.

Finally. Eye contact. What and why? Why do you not do it? Is it subconscious? Can you physically not do it, or is it just uncomfortable? How do I know if I do it? Because whenever I start paying attention to it, I get self conscious and look away— and then back again, and then away again. Am I changing my patterns because I know autistic people aren’t supposed to make eye contact and I’m trying to convince myself that I am, or am I forcing myself to make occasional eye contact because I know that’s what society wants? How do I try to analyze my behaviors without alerting myself that I’m under scrutiny and potentially skewing the results?