#and she clocked me as autistic on the first day

[cressthebest]

me: i’m so picky, no one could ever fix cafeteria food for me because they would do it Wrong™️

my friend: *calling me on the phone from the table, watching me at the salad bar* put that fucking dressing down bitch. you don’t like it.

me: … but i might like it. it looks good

her: put it down.

me:

her:

me: okay.

[rxmqnova]

Reader is an autistic rookie agent. Natasha is her new SO (no-one else would train her) after a rogue gun shot sends us into an autistic burn out Natasha realises just how much she has to step up to train , support and encourage her new and frankly only rookie.

(Maybe Nat remembers a girl from the red room being punished for something similar and Nat get very protective of R almost overnight? )

The someone

NO ONE'S POV Y/N takes a deep breath before stepping into the gym, her palms are sweaty from how much she's nervous. She's having her very first training with non other than Black Widow herself.

Fury specially assigned her to Natasha. The redhead has no idea why. There are lots of other agents who can train and Natasha has a lot of work with being an Avenger now.

Though she knows Fury doesn't do anything without a reason, so she just goes along with it. Now she's waiting in the gym for her trainee.

When she sees the young girl approaching, she crosses her arms over her chest and waits until the girl walks closer.

"You're late" Is the first thing that leaves Natasha's lips.

Ever since Y/N woke up today, her day has been terrible. She spilled her tea, so she needed to change her favorite shirt for a different one.

She lost her keys, so she looked around her entire apartment just to find them in one of her jackets 30 minutes later.

"I-I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to, but my keys-"

"None of that. Just make sure it won't happen again. And you can call me Natasha" The redhead cuts the young girl off, receiving an immediate nod.

"Won't happen again, miss. I-I mean… Natasha" Y/N blurts out, giving Natasha an akward smile before putting her bag down on the ground to get ready for her training.

Everything seems to be great. Y/N is in a good shape which actually is quite surprising to Natasha as she wasn't expecting it at all.

The girls do some running, combat skills, work out. And then Natasha takes Y/N to the shooting range to see how good Y/N is with a gun.

"Take these" Natasha hands the younger girl soundproof headphones as soon as she explains everything, expecting Y/N to put them on and do what she just told her.

But Y/N just keeps looking around in awe, she's never been here before and this place just amazes her. She's lost in her own world that she doesn't acknowledge Natasha's pulling the trigger.

A loud bang gets Y/N back to reality, her hands start shaking before she moves to sit into the nearest corner, her shaking hands hugging her knees tightly. She struggles with breathing by now which got caused by crying.

Meanwhile Natasha puts her gun down, turning around to tell Y/N to try it. The redhead immediately puts her headphones away when she sees the state her trainee is.

"Y/N!" She rushes to the girl, kneeling down in front of her. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay" She tries to comfort, but it doesn't seem to help.

"What do I do?" Natasha asks herself, thinking hard about anything that could help Y/N calm down.

Suddenly she remembers a situation that happened back in the Red room. There was a girl about her age, she was hidden in a corner, crying and shaking just like Y/N is right now. She got really badly punished back then, but Natasha knows she has to try something now and calm Y/N down.

"Y/N, it's Natasha. You're okay, sweetheart" Natasha says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's knee, but the girl just flinches away.

The redhead lets out a breath in frustration, closing her eyes and thinking about what to do. When she opens her eyes again, she spots the headphones she's still holding. She very carefully puts them on Y/N's ear, hoping that the silence would help the young girl calm down… and after a while it finally does.

———

The clock hits 2 am and Natasha still isn't sleeping. She just can't, her mind keeps wandering from the young widow to her young trainee.

She knows she needs to be more careful and keep her eye on the girl. She doesn't want her to go through anything similar as the girl back in the Red Room and wants her to feel safe.

The morning finally comes and Natasha goes to the gym where she's supposed to meet Y/N. Like she knew this would happen, Y/N runs in at the last minute, blurting out one apology after another, but Natasha just smiles, hands the young girl a bottle of water and a protein bar for breakfast.

Y/N clearly needs someone to look out for her and someone who would make sure she always feel safe and comfortable. Someone who would support and encourage her. And Natasha is ready to be the someone.

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

I don't know much about autism. I did some research, but I'm not sure if this is accurate.

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[happyhauntt]

bury these bones — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: spencer's day isn't anything more than average, but a surprise phone call and impromptu hospital visit have him rethinking his expectations.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, a little angst, reader is autistic & a mom, no use of y/n. swearing. mild description of injuries (not serious), references to the 'lauren' arc of season 6, hospitals, this is mostly just flirting with a bit of background angst. i did do some research but honestly all facts & figures in this are probably Not Accurate and should absolutely never be repeated.

─── word count: 1.9k.

     IT ISN’T OFTEN THAT SPENCER is the first one into the office. More often than not, Hotch is already at his desk by the time dawn breaks, and Morgan can usually be found finishing up in the gym. Nobody ever expects Rossi to arrive on time — he usually strolls in a little after 9:30 with his blazer slung over his arm and a half-finished espresso in his hand — and Emily maintains some semblance of a work-life balance by appearing no sooner than work is supposed to start, if she can help it.

     The point, Spencer supposes, is that his routine usually falls comfortably in the middle and yet, today, as he emerges from the elevator and heads towards his desk, the bullpen is almost eerily quiet.

     Bizarre, he thinks, setting his bag down by his chair. The BAU is so often abuzz with activity, the low hum of worker bees all in a hive slipping into background noise, that to see it so empty is… jarring, to say the least.

     Spencer heads for the kitchen after a moment, ears ringing in the silence, and makes a pot of coffee before meandering back to his desk. A glance at the clock tells him that it’s still early, and as a mouthful of too-sweet coffee sits on his tongue, he reaches into his bag and draws out today’s paper, flipping through to the crossword.

     Silence is golden, after all. If he’s lucky, he’ll beat his personal best.

     He’s halfway through, about to move on to 6, down, when the phone rings. The shrill sound of it pierces the air, and Spencer can’t help flinching a little as it startles him. Eyes dart all over the bullpen, trying to locate the source of the noise, before they land on Emily's desk. The offending phone trills on and on. One of the lights blinks red. External call.

     He discards the newspaper on his desk, tucking a spare pen inside so the page isn’t lost, and strides across the office to Emily’s desk to answer the phone. It won’t be the first time he’s taken a message for one of his coworkers, and he suspects Emily would rather this than letting the call ring out.

     “Agent Prentiss’ phone.” His voice feels too loud in the sudden silence of the office, now that the ringing has ceased. “Dr. Reid speaking. Can I help you?”

     “Dr. Reid?” The voice crackling down the line lilts with confusion, and his chest floods with warmth at the familiarity of it.

     He can almost picture you, in his mind’s eye. The exact expression on your face as you hear him speak instead of Emily, the little scrunch of your nose, your head tilting to the side. It’s the same look you have when you find something strange inside a cadaver.

     The same bewildered wrinkle appears between your brows when you’re on the plane after a case and Spencer’s trying to teach you how to play chess, and you start to laugh and tell him you’re hopeless, but his persistence is endearing, so you let him explain the rules all over again.

     (You’ve only been part of the team for a few months, only accompanied them on cases a handful of times, but the sound of your voice is as familiar to him as the moon on a winter’s night. He can’t quite put his finger on when or how he became so attuned to you, drawn in the same way the moon pulls the tide, but he’s certainly not complaining.)

     “I keep telling you to call me Spencer.” An amused smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

     You scoff. “That’s not professional.”

     “Our technical analyst tucks fluffy pens into her hair, and on our last case together I walked in on you dancing to Abba in the middle of an autopsy. I think professionalism is a thing of the past.”

     “Bite me, Dr. Reid,” you say, but your words are flooded with affection. “Where’s Prentiss? Why are you answering her phone?”

     Spencer shrugs. “She’s not in yet. Anything I can help with?”

     Silence. If not for the sound of your breathing, Spencer might think the call dropped.

     Another moment passes before you swallow thickly, a quiet gulp that sends an odd zing skittering through Spencer’s nervous system.

     “I need a favour and I don’t want to worry Jackie.”

     From what he’s heard about your sister-in-law, Spencer thinks that’s fair. “Sure, what is it?”

     “Can you pick me up from the hospital?”

     Recent surveys conducted by NORC at the University of Chicago suggest that almost half of the American population dislike hospitals, so Spencer knows he’s not alone in his discomfort, but none of his facts and figures are helpful the moment he steps into the Emergency Room at St. Sebastian’s.

     The clinical scent of disinfectant sends a thousand tiny spiders crawling up his spine. He tries not to gag but he swears he can taste it at the back of his throat. Spencer forces himself to pause near the door and shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to focus on the solid ground beneath his feet rather than the lurching of his stomach.

     In his line of work, he’s no stranger to hospitals. To meandering through long, dim corridors in search of something to occupy his thoughts, of all the beige and stark white walls so bright it hurts his eyes, of lumpy hospital beds and IVs itching beneath his skin and that smell.

     He was here, not that long ago. He’d wept when they told him Emily had died in surgery, and she’s fine now, but he can still taste iron on his tongue and sometimes it’s still hard to believe she’s alive until she walks through the door unharmed.

     When he opens his eyes again, the ER is still the same, but the unpleasant churning in his stomach has started to subside. At the desk, he reels off your name, stuttering as he goes, before the nurse directs him over to Bay 3.

     I was in a car accident. That’s what you’d said on the phone, and his whole body had gone suddenly cold even though you’d seemed oddly cheery, and he’d had to remind himself to breathe. You were calling, not a nurse or a doctor, so it surely couldn’t be that bad.

     But he doesn’t believe it, not really. Not until he sets eyes on you himself. Not until he can see the truth right in front of him.

     You’re sitting cross-legged on one of the narrow ER beds. The curtain is pushed out of the way, and he can see your shoes have been tucked neatly beside the bed and your socks have little mushrooms on them. You’re not in a hospital gown but jeans, and a laugh bubbles up in his throat because your shirt says ‘meaner than I look’, which is patently untrue in his experience — but he also files this away in the rolodex of reasons you should call him Spencer, because you were going to show up to work dressed like this, and he never wants to hear the word professional out of your mouth again.

     He also wants to take a picture, kind of, because there’s something so endearing about the image. He’s often grateful to have an eidetic memory, but never more than in this moment. He wants to remember this forever.

     Spencer clears his throat as he approaches. The smile you send him as you look up and notice him is bright and wide and it makes him feel all warm and happy, like a cat curled up in a patch of sunlight.

     “What happened?” His gaze is wary as it trails over you from head to toe, quickly cataloguing all your injuries. You hadn’t explained much over the phone, and he hadn’t thought to ask in his haste to reach the hospital, but now his eyes snag on the bruise blossoming over your cheek and it’s all he can think about.

     You don’t look too bad, all things considered.

     The bruise looks worse than it feels. The collar of your shirt is speckled with blood, but the cut above your temple is shallow and sealed with two steri-strips.

     All-in-all, it could’ve been worse.

     “My tire blew while I was driving into work this morning,” you tell him as you tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “The car spun out. All of this—” You gesture vaguely at your face, “was caused by the airbag. But I’m fine.”

     It’s not that Spencer thinks you’re lying. It’s not.

     But you can’t quite look him in the eye, and you’re wearing the same guilty expression you have when you pilfer the last of the coffee, so he’s not about to take your word for it.

     A quick glance at your chart offers all the answers.

     “You have a concussion!”

     “A mild concussion! Mild! I don’t even have a headache!”

     It’s a good thing you called him— or, well, Emily, rather than your sister-in-law. According to you, Jackie has been known to freak out over a paper cut. This might have given her a coronary.

     Spencer frowns. “You needed a CT scan.”

     “Precautionary measure.” A nonchalant wave of your hand follows your words. “I’m a doctor too, remember? I’m fine. Really.”

     “They say doctors make the worst patients.”

     You grin at him. “I already had a meltdown in the bathroom earlier. Scared a nurse. I think he wanted to sedate me but then he saw my lanyard and he took me to a quiet room to decompress. I’m good, I promise.”

     The lanyard in question is covered in little sunflowers and tucked inside one of your shoes for safekeeping. Displayed on one side of the little plastic window is your Quantico identification; on the other, a little slip of paper Spencer suspects you made yourself, judging by the pink floral background and slanting script that I’m autistic and trying my fucking best.

     The sight of it is familiar to him now, the same way your smile is seared onto his brain for eternity, but he recalls seeing it for the first time and chuckling. You’d offered to get one for him, too, gleefully declaring that you’re just like a sunflower, Dr. Reid, and there’d been so many butterflies in his stomach that he could have taken flight, then and there.

     Now he merely hums, and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Stepping back, he watches as you slip your shoes back on and shoulder your bag, having signed a release form not long before he arrived.

     “Hey, Spencer?” Your voice is small, and the way you’re looking at him, all wide-eyed and wonderful, brings those butterflies back tenfold. He hopes the flush of his cheeks isn’t too obvious.

     “Yeah?”

     “Thank you for coming to get me. I’m really okay, I promise. I’ve had worse.”

     His heart pinches.

     He doesn’t like that you’ve had worse.

     “Well,” he says, after a moment too long of staring at you, “mild or not, I’m not leaving you alone for the rest of the day. We’re going to follow the concussion protocol. 65% of people reported developing hearing and memory problems as a result of missed symptoms of head-related trauma last year.”

     You’re watching him. The corner of your eyes are a little wrinkled. A fond smile toys on your lips. “I expected nothing less, Dr. Reid.”

[bowsers-keep]

Compling all my Guilty Gear headcanons into one place

Most of these are actually headcanons friends had first but I've just incorperated them into my belief system. Under the cut cause this gets long.

LGBT+ Headcanons

Sol Badguy is a Butch Lesbian. No I will not explain why.

Ky is Genderfluid. I will stand by this till the day I die.

Dizzy is Pansexual! She loves her partner no matter what gender they currently are!

Slayer is the Token CisHet, because it is funny. Fruitest Vampire you've ever met and he's actually happily living with his wife, everyone else is some form of queer.

Genderqueer Izuna. Nuff said. He/She pronouns for them

On another Izuna note he's a man kisser. You cannot tell me she was born from the love a woman had for her husband and think he's anything but. Gay little fox thang.

The ending where Baiken just forsake all form of gender is forever iconic to me they are the nonbinary samurai in that one joke now.

Aromantic Johnny will forever be iconic to me. Just big brin genius play honestly. (He's also like Pansexual)

On the other side of the spectrum we have Asexual Nagoriyuki!

Also AroAce Potemkin. Feels right considering his reaction to Magnum Wedding.

In my heart Goldlewis is a Trans Gay man. He fucked clocked Bridget so hard during her Arcade mode. Old trans helping out a baby trans!

Giovanna feels bisexual to me, don't ask me why.

Leo is in a similar vein as in yeah that's a bisexual person.

Neurodivergent Headcanons

Butch Lesbian Axl, yeah there's more of this. My friends are horrid influences <3

Goldlewis is gay and trans. This feels right to me

Ramlethal is 100% Autistic

Actually all the Valentines are autistic as FUCK to me

Sin has that Audhd wombo combo

Leo has some godforsaken fucked up evil autism to be a guy WITHOUT FUCKING SLEEVES UNDER HIS JACKET!

In reality there is nobody in this cast who isn' some form of neurodivergent so I'll just run through funny ones actually.

Testament is that one kind of adhd where they cannot pick a hobby for the life of them

Goldlewis most certainly has cryptid austism, and he also does not know how far is too far in terms of asking questions.

While Slayer may be the token cishet, he is NOT the token neurotypical. That title goes to Anji for me personally, because funni.

World Headcanons

Mana Sickness. If you use too much Mana too fast there are repercusion!

Healing magic is a VOLITILE LITTLE FUCKING! It can fuck you up! (Aka what we think happened with Asuka's wing eye thing)

Idk how canon this is in particular but different people have different mana caps and magic affinity levels (Example: Johnny has piss poor magic affinity which is why he only knows like 4 spells top)

Misclenous Headcanons

Sin has a tail, you can't pry this out of my cold dead hands.

Giovanna really likes chocolate (I get to be self indulgent with her being Brasilian therefore this)

Out of the three kings of Ilyria, Leo is actually the workaholic! As much as he complains about paperwork it helps him take his mind off this survivors guilt and pstd. Ky has healthy coping mechanisms and Daryl is a dick.

June (One of the Jellyfish Pirates) is a music nerd!

Izuna will use his teleportation to fuck with people and prank them. This is an activity she enjoys very much.

Baiken just has hammerspace, just where else do they keep all their weapons???

Asuka R. Kreutz has a cane, nuff said. Pain haver.

Goldlewis is Johnny's Uncle. The guy from that one Xrd stage that's Goldlewis's brother? Yeah that's Johnny's dad now, they're estranged because after Johnny's Dad died Goldlewis just kinda drifted away from everyone else because his brother was the one guy who liked him there.

[blackbird-brewster]

Mom!Em Fic Recs

@bau-babygirl requested: Fics featuring Emily as a mom [X]

JJ/Emily + Kids

[Find all of these and more fluff in my Domestic Jemily collection on AO3]

Mother's Day by w00t4ewan (me) Rated: G || WC: 715 Summary: Henry helps Emily surprise JJ on Mother's Day

Dreams Do Come True by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 2000 Summary: Emily and JJ take Henry to Disneyworld on their first family vacation.

Breakfast by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 840 Summary: Emily tries to let JJ sleep in and winds up with her hands full of a certain toddler.

Love is an Open Door by w00t4ewan Rated: G || WC: 1010 Summary: Emily and Henry work together to plan an unforgettable evening for JJ.

Jemily Ficlet Archives by w00t4ewan Rated: M || WC: 31,000+ Summary: An unrelated collection of Jemily ficlets and headcanons which were originally posted on my tumblr and up until now hadn't been shared on AO3.

Sand by @otahkoapisiakii (Phoenix_Falls) Rated: G || WC: 2630 Summary: JJ and Emily incorporate Henry in their wedding ceremony

Steps by Phoenix_Falls Rated: G || WC: 4670 Summary: Modified prompt from tumblr: "you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby"

Darwin by Phoenix_Falls Rated: G || WC: 831 Summary: Henry has an odd nickname. Likely takes place in the same verse as Steps, but 11 years later Mittens and Hats by @velutluna Rated: G || WC: 1944 Summary: JJ and Emily take their sons for a walk in a winter wonderland.

Perfect by velutuna Rated: G || WC: 660 Summary: A perfect evening at the home of the Prentiss-Jareau family.

Happy Birthday! by @ellegreenawayslover Rated: G || WC: 2028 Summary: Emily’s feelings during her birthday, her feelings years ago, and how she finally is truly happy with her life and how it turned out.

Morning Cartoons and Middle Names by @vhsrights Rated: G || WC: 2634 Summary: A shift in the numbers on his digital clock indicated that the time had arrived. 7:15 am. No sound of an alarm echoed through the upper floor of the Prentiss-Jareau house. There was pin-drop silence, and then the quiet chaos began.

Bonus: My Master List of MomEm Headcanons & Fanworks

Other Fics: Emily + Kids

A Year in the Life by @gaelic-symphony (thelarkascending) Tara/Emily || Rated: T || WC: 8455 Summary: Twelve vignettes from the married life of Tara Lewis and Emily Prentiss, written for the Year of the OTP writing challenge.

handprints on my soul by @prrentiss (unitchiefprentiss) Tara/Emily || Rated: T || WC: 32,000+ Summary: tara and emily after the events of just a dream. Maternal Instinct by thelarkascending Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1207 Summary: Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange Halloween Interlude by w00t4ewan Tara/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1573 Maternal Instinct by thelarkascending Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 1207 Summary: Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange

Bluey Mom by @alexblakeisgay (ArwenLalaith) Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 2713 Summary: The adventures of Emily Prentiss as she navigates running the BAU, being a wife and mother, and her relationship with gender.

Oh, My Darling Clementine by ArwenLalaith Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 930 Summary: Emily Prentiss is not above bribing her toddler daughter to get her to call her Mama…

Book Ends by ArwenLalaith Alex/Emily || Rated: G || WC: 18,500 Summary: Emily's life revolves around Lux - her four year old autistic daughter. She hasn't had a relationship since she got pregnant and certainly isn't looking to start one when she meets Alex Blake: phenom children's author.

Alex's life since her husband left and her son passed has revolved around writing and little else. She's been a recluse for years when her agent finally convinces her to make an appearance at her latest book launch. Little does she know, she's about to meet a four year old girl that will change her life....

[smilesession]

extremely candid, tell-all thoughts about sacrifice and familial codependency, potentially emotional incest, mentions of abuse

I have watched sacrifice become the root of all suffering, but sacrifice has become cemented as a vicious cycle with no clear path of escape as its own result.

How can I dare to place judgment or blame on my mother? A woman who gave up so much of herself in service to her disabled husband and disabled child. I watched her, when I was growing up, working up to 80 hours a week, sometimes I would stay up all night with her at the office and feel bewildered and exhilarated from exhaustion. For me it was an adventure, for her it was obligation and I can hardly imagine how she felt. Its evidence of her incredible fortitude. While she worked this hard, she was also solely responsible for taking care of the home, taking care of a significantly autistic daughter, and taking care of a negligent, drug-addicted, manipulative husband. She also hit me almost every day.

When my parents met, my father was in his early 30s (to my mother's mid-20s) and he was dying of late-stage congestive heart failure. He had 6 months to live. He lived in absolute squalor, working part-time doing something or another to do with printing signs, in spite of having a business degree, while my mom was a homeowner and worked full time in a finance position despite not having a college education. On their first meeting, my mom gave him advice on how to better maintain his long hair that he grew out to his waist but didn't wash or take care of. She was not particularly interested in him until she found out he was dying. My mom attached herself to the idea of future-widow, secretly, finding a promise of eternal validation in martyrdom. They married after 6 months and she played the role of dutiful wife; she moved him into her home, she navigated the medical system for him, she and her own mother kept him fed and comfortable, she paid for his increasingly experimental and niche treatments, and she sat at his bedside in the Mayo Clinic, both loving him and privately waiting for his death.

He didn't die. I was conceived shortly after the heart transplant. She wanted to leave him when he went back to using drugs, feeling that it was an act of disrespect to her, to her family, and to the young man who was his organ donor. She decided that leaving wasn't an option, due to the extent he depended on her. He also refused, by threats and by stubbornness, to let her leave.

The next best thing to being a widow is to be a martyr. She conceded to letting him never go back to work, and she began working longer and longer hours and striving harder. His job was to take care of me and the home. For him, this was a free ticket to eternal adolescence; for my entire childhood if he wasn't verbally abusing me he was locked behind a door, in his private room, getting high and watching either the news or Adult Swim or old concert videos on TV. He resented my natural neediness as a young child, and said to me, quantifiably more than he said anything else, "the next time you need something, I won't be there for you", and he stuck to his word. In my memory, I can't remember a single time he reacted to my needing something with anything more than complete disdain, by waving me off with his hand. He would sleep for most of the day and sometimes forget to pick me up from school. He would not sacrifice one moment of comfort for anything in the world - he is pathologically incapable of it. My mom, on top of working as much as she did, solely took care of keeping the home clean, attending to my needs, and attending to him. Again, she also hit me almost every day and openly despised me until I was an adult.

They never divorced, even though I begged her to. She would always say to me, "he wouldn't be able to survive on his own". He doesn't require around-the-clock medical care; what she meant is that he doesn't possess basic life skills. He never learned how to use the internet, does not manage his doctor's appointments, has never cleaned anything, and has never submitted a job application for himself. My mom handles all of this. When he did finally get a job, part-time at a casino, my mom delivered him lunch every day.

Once when I was really little, maybe a 2nd grader, I wrote a set of comics while at school, "My Mom is Busy!" and "My Dad is Lazy!" where I drew her going to work and him laying in bed. I wasn't trying to be mean, I was trying to depict my life. When he saw them, he insisted that I'd done it to humiliate him by lying.

For my entire life, I've watched my mom run from herself by dissolving into service to others. She dissolved her own will in service of him, by overworking, and taking on charitable volunteering on top of it. The older I get I simultaneously gain more respect for this, and more grief. I think that amount of sacrifice is a type of escape, and a type of bargaining, and a type of groveling. I think its a cycle in which she wants to do anything possible to try to prove the slightest bit of worth in herself, because she doesn't feel she has it inherently.

My entire childhood she talked horribly about herself and called herself fat and ugly even though she's always been objectively beautiful. We often dieted together and I liked it because it seemed like it made her happy in some way. I think I carry every part of her pathology, replicated into me.

Self-martyrdom is trying to outrun yourself, to displace pieces of yourself into other people, trying to force others to being your mirror, all the while making it less and less likely. It's implicitly a humiliating insult. It's implicitly dehumanizing to everyone involved. I can never dislike my mother, because you can't help but love and admire someone who faces adversity by giving more and more. I have eternal, bottomless love for her that's only made stronger by the contrast with my father, who responded to adversity by making it everyone else's problem, by being entitled and ungrateful, for feeling like heaven and earth were owed to him for absolutely nothing.

As my mother's daughter I become a martyr inherently by loving her. I want to be that perfect mirror, I want her to see the good in herself in me, instead of seeing "proof" of her perceived insufficiency. Sacrifice inherently makes you look to others to know who you are. I know firsthand that when you sacrifice yourself for a weaponized-incompetent partner, you see yourself as a subhuman, you see that nothing you can do is good enough. And it goes on permanently and you become more twisted and monstrous in your own eyes the less and less you're "appreciated". It's about the self, but it feels like overly simplistic pop-psych to call it narcissism proper. Focus on Self is displaced entirely on caretaking the Other. In this kind of sacrifice, you erase yourself and become a sacrificial object. My mom isn't a narcissist, she's completely invisible to herself. My dad is blatantly a narcissist. On top of all of this, he degrades her for her tastes and preferences and requires everything be done in accordance to his own. She is not able to watch tv shows, listen to music, etc without his open judgment, mockery, and condemnation.

But is it not narcissistic to think you can save anyone from their own decisions? Making yourself a sacrificial (thereby holy, superior, not-human) object in service is still believing you're capable of the impossible. She would have been lucky if he died. I wish he could have died even though it means I wouldn't have been born. I would sacrifice myself for her.

I struggle to break the cycle because it would be betraying her.

[nightcoreandcaffeine]

When A Day Starts Wrong

Satoru wakes up late and his morning does not get better from there. Luckily his friends are there to help.

Crossposted to AO3

TW: mildly depicted autistic meltdown

The day started out wrong.

Satoru has always been punctual, with everything, getting up in the morning included. But, despite the alarm on his phone, which was on the shelf behind his head, he somehow didn’t wake up. He only roused himself 20 minutes later by the rhythmic thumping of Daifuku in his cage. Ignoring an alarm was one thing, but ignoring a living being who needs his attention is quite another.

He sits up in his bed, groggy as can be, and fumbles around for his glasses, before shoving them on his face. They feel a bit uncomfortable, but glasses pretty much always do for the first few minutes. He tries to not eat it on the floor as he stands up, gripping what he can of the wall for support. Finally, he makes it over to Daifuku’s cage, opening it for the bunny.

Satoru leans against the wall, running his fingers over the carpeted floor around Daifuku’s cage, watching the bunny walk around, and stretch out the morning sleepiness. The carpeting is a bit rough, but it was better for traction, more like the texture of the outside world. He watches Daifuku for a while, just observing how the bunny moves, before he glances at the clock. A panicked noise escapes his throat as he jolts up, and runs to his closet to get changed for school.

He barely manages to grab his school bag and lunch as he runs out the front door, and dearly hopes that Daifuku had enough food and water left in his dispensers for the day. As he runs down the sidewalks to Wangan Middle School, he starts to get winded, and makes a noise not unlike a whine at it. He’s been keeping up with literal superheroes for over half a year, why does he still have no stamina?

As he makes his way towards the school, he gets surprised by Komugi suddenly popping up in front of him, and Iroha joining shortly thereafter.

“Hey Satoru, why are your glasses upside down?” Komugi asks, with the signature tilt of the head expected of dogs.

He reaches up to feel the frames. Indeed, they were upside down. He readjusts them to be right side up, willing himself to not flush in embarrassment.

“Did you do the homework?” Iroha asks, less as an actual question, Satoru always does his work, and more a change of conversation. She saw the embarrassment and wanted to save him from more questions about it.

“Of course, it was actually pretty simple,” he says, readjusting the glasses a final time to sit straight. Then he remembered he didn’t even bother to look in the mirror when he brushed his teeth, so anxiously started combing out his hair with his fingers, hoping it wasn’t a complete rats nest.

“Toyama-kun, is there something the matter?” Mayu asks, she and Yuki joining the trio. “Do you have something in your hair?”

“Ah, I just…forgot to comb it out this morning. I woke up late, and was more focused on making sure Daifuku would be comfortable for the day.” He finally lets up on the combing, having gotten all the knots out.

“That’s just like you, isn’t it,” Iroha says with a fond chuckle. “More worried about Daifuku-chan than yourself.”

“Of course! If I left him in his cage all day on accident…” Satoru starts to fret over this currently-non-issue, and Yuki decides to cut it short with a sharp tug to his bag.

“Did you pack all your things?” She asks, shifting the conversation yet again, and looking over to Mayu, a slight squint to her expression. Mayu recognized the look as the one Yuki would have when asking Mayu about her anxiety, but this time, aimed at Satoru. He was acting pretty skittish this morning.

“I packed everything last night. It’s all in there,” he assures, patting the bag. “Daifuku even double checked. I think. He’s gotten to the point where he’ll thump at me if I don’t show him all my assignments, completed, before I put them in my bag.”

“Sounds like him,” Komugi and Yuki agreed, the only two who could actively converse with the bun, barring the currently-absent Niko and Mey Mey.

“Anyways, let’s just get to class. I don’t want to be even more late.” Satoru starts walking quicker, passing all four of the girls in his rush to get to class. They all give each other a look, concerned.

“Has Toyama-kun ever been this anxious?” Mayu asks Iroha, looking at the boy as he starts messing with his hair again.

“Not since I’ve known him,” Iroha replies, some of her own anxieties building up as she watches her boyfriend fret. “…well, there’s been a few times he’s gotten closed off, but I think it was just social anxiety, like you have.”

Mayu nods, gently tapping her fingers against her bag, her gaze becoming distant as they continue to walk. Yuki recognizes this as her thinking, and just helps steer the girl in the correct direction. Komugi has long since caught up with, and passed by, Satoru, greeting their other classmates as they made it to the gate.

They all make it to the classroom without incident, sitting in their back corner seats. Ookuma and Kanie approach the group, wanting to catch up before class starts.

“Ookuma-chan and I are going to a concert this weekend,” Kanie mentions, and digs in her bag for something. “I got some earplugs off of Saruwatari-kun to take. Turns out he’s also a big music fan.” She shows off the foam earplugs, more just to show some evidence of their concert planning than actual interest in the foam plugs.

“Ooh!” Komugi grins at the two, and pokes at the foam in Kanie’s hand. “Never seen these before!” Her eyes light up as she pokes them. “They’re squishy!”

“The earplugs are made out of foam, which can be compressed, and then inflate itself back up. Foam earplugs are considered the ideal solution for blocking out unnecessary levels of volume, as they can be compressed enough to enter the ear canal, and re-inflate to fill the canal fully. They should be inserted to the point that you can only grasp the end outside of the canal for optimal protection, but take caution to not insert them too deeply as to be unable to retrieve them, or damage the eardrum.”

The girls all look over to Satoru as he finishes his explanation, and stare, a bit confused. He barely even looks like he recognized he was speaking, staring at his bag as he waited for class to start. Only after they’re all quiet for a moment does Satoru look back up, blinking rapidly to get himself back online.

“Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to go on a rant.” He looks ashamed that he derailed the conversation so abruptly, and looks back down at his bag.

“No, it’s…that’s fine, Toyama-kun, we’ll make sure to remember that for Saturday,” Ookama tries to placate, looking over at Iroha for help. She didn’t interact with the boy much, but even she knew this behavior was unusual.

Iroha looks conflicted, and ultimately give a defeated shrug. She pats Satoru’s shoulder, and gives him a big smile. “Thanks for telling us about that! Now we know how to use them safely! You’re always looking out for everyone.”

Is she laying it on a little thick considering its just earplugs? Maybe. Does that stop her? No. Iroha will appreciate her friends and what they do with all her heart. And its obvious something is up with Satoru today. What it is though? No one’s quite sure.

The bell rings, so everyone sits in their seats, waiting for Babazono-sensei to begin class. People start taking out their assignments and books. Iroha spares a glance over at Satoru, and is relieved to see he has all his assignments complete for the period. She has a feeling it would not end up well if he was missing them. Her gaze snaps back to the front of the classroom, where the teacher has stood up.

He started talking about whatever book it was they were reading for Modern Japanese, and Komugi groaned behind Iroha, not understanding most of what he was talking about, as usual. When he brought out the attendance sheet to call for a reader, Komugi slid down in her seat to avoid being called on.

Whether by the will of Niko or just regular luck, she wasn’t chosen. Instead, Satoru was. He stood up, and started reading the passage from the book. Komugi understood why Daifuku said he liked to hear him talk. He was clear and concise, properly enunciating and pronouncing every word. Which meant she was surprised when his voice suddenly tapered then cut out. An awkward second later, and he started coughing. Must have just gotten something caught in his throat. He sat down to dig through his bag for his water, and Iroha stood up to finish reading the passage for him.

Mayu watched the boy get slowly more frantic looking for his bottle, before taking out her own and handing it over. He nodded his thanks, opening it to waterfall from the bottle, before resealing and handing it back over with another nod.

Mayu glanced over at Yuki to see what she thought, and the girl was glaring in thought at him. Mayu tapped the edge of Yuki’s desk, and the cat wrote down something and passed it to the girl.

‘That wasn’t a coughing fit. He just couldn’t speak anymore. I can tell when its a real cough.’

Mayu looks at the note in surprise. First, she didn’t know Yuki could do that. Second, that was adding on more and more to the mystery of what was going on with the boy. Mayu surreptitiously passed the note along to Iroha when she sat down, having finished reading the passage. She read over the note, and looked at them both, concerned. She waited for Satoru to be writing something down, before whispering to them both. ‘Bathroom at break?’

The other two nod, agreeing to the meeting place. And Komugi would end up following Iroha anyways.

Most of the class passed without incident. Satoru didn’t raise his hand to answer any questions, completely out of character for him. Once the bell rang, all four of the girls headed to the bathroom on the floor to discuss.

Iroha leaned against the wall with a sigh, Komugi standing next to her. Yuki and Mayu took up residence by the sinks across from them.

“Something’s wrong.” Iroha starts, and the cat duo nod.

“That coughing fit was a cover up for something. His voice just…stopped working it seems,” Yuki says, tapping on the sink’s edge.

“Not to mention he didn’t answer any questions afterwards. He usually fills all the awkward lulls when no one else knows the answer,” Mayu adds, tapping her own arm in a nervous habit.

“He put his glasses on upside down, and he was running to school.” Komugi hums, thinking. “He said he was taking care of Daifuku, but Daifuku has told me they get up early to get everything ready before school. Did he not set an alarm?”

“I don’t think we know enough to do anything yet,” Iroha relents with a sigh. “I’m worried, though.”

“We all are, Iroha-chan, and we’ll figure it out. Promise.” Mayu gently rubs Iroha’s shoulder, said girl offering up a smile.

The warning bell rings, so they head back to the classroom. But while all of them glance over at Satoru to check on him, only Mayu notices something dire.

“…Yuki,” she whispers to her cat, urgency in her voice. “I recognize that look. He’s about to have a panic attack.”

Yuki’s eyes widen, but she agrees with the girl. However, there’s not much they can do in the two minutes before class. Mayu has an idea though, and goes to where Shou and Saruwatari are sitting.

“Shou-kun, Saruwatari-kun, I need a favor. Toyama-kun isn’t feeling well. Can one of you take him to the nurse’s office?”

Shou stands up, and Saruwatari acknowledges the other boy will take care of it, nodding to Mayu, and turning back to the front of the room. Shou walks over to the boy, gently tapping his shoulder.

Satoru looks up, but not before rubbing his eyes to get rid of the few tears that gathered up. “D- do you need something?”

Shou looks at him for a moment, thinking, before he makes up a reasonable excuse. “My, uh, ankle got sprained at practice yesterday, and I need to go to the nurse for pain meds, but I’m afraid I might hurt myself on the stairs. Could you, uh, go with me? Since you can probably afford to miss class, y’know with how smart you are.”

It’s a bit fumbled, but it seems to do the trick, and Satoru stands up. The two go to get permission from the teacher, and leave the room.

As they walk down the hallways, Shou fidgeted with his bag. He thought he might as well work on something in the nurse’s office when they’d inevitably had to wait. But, before they could even make it to the stairwell, Satoru stopped in his tracks.

Shou glanced up, and his eyes widened when he saw the other boy starting to cry. He whipped his head around, not wanting anyone else to see and ask questions about why Satoru was crying in the middle of a hallway, and decided to just shove both of them into the nearest boy’s bathroom.

“…Toyama, dude, you not feeling okay?” Shou asked, just confused as all get out. Mayu had said he was feeling bad, and Shou assumed she meant ill, not…crying.

“…bad day…” is all Satoru makes out, rubbing his eyes harshly, before sitting down against an empty wall. Shou joins him, looking at him with concern.

“What happened to make it bad?”

“…woke up late…’nd I forgot to feed Daifuku, and I had to run to school and I have no stamina…and I put on my glasses wrong, and my voice stopped working…and I forgot my homework for this class…” He starts rubbing at his eyes again, and Shou grabs his wrists to make him stop. This seems to be the wrong decision though, as Satoru rips away his hands like he was burned.

Shou doesn’t respond badly, just backing off. “Okay, no touchy, got it. Just…don’t hurt yourself, alright?” He moves back a little to give the other boy space.

“Well…you can’t fix that you woke up late, so don’t worry about that. And you always take care of Daifuku, so he’ll probably understand it was a one time thing. As for running…uh, maybe I can help you with that later. Stamina takes a while to develop. Your…your glasses look fine now so I think you fixed that problem. And you could talk so your voice isn’t, like, randomly gone. Uh, homework…” Shou tapped his bag, before getting an idea. He took out his own homework for the class, and erased his name at the top.

“Here.”

Satoru looked at Shou, then the paper, then back to Shou. “But…but you also need to turn in the work?”

“I can afford to miss one assignment-”

“By that logic I can too-”

“Hey! Like I was trying to say, one missed assignment won’t get me kicked off the soccer team. And you are a lot more emotionally invested in getting everything turned in on time.” He moved the paper towards Satoru, and handed him a pencil. “I’ll be fine, Toyama.”

“…why are you helping me?”

Shou laughs, as if it’s a hilarious question. “Dude, we’re classmates, and I’d at least consider us friends. Plus, now you owe me a favor, and can make Komugi play against me again. She’s been too busy with…something to have any time for a friendly soccer match.”

Satoru looked at the ground, and finally nodded. He shakily wrote his name on the paper, and started reading through all the answers, fixing anything that was wrong.

Shou leaned back against the wall, determining they’d be missing pretty much all of that particular class. Once Satoru stopped writing, he looked over to the boy. He seemed to be lost in thought, so Shou just let him keep thinking. Better than the panic attack at least.

“…you good?”

“…better. Thank you, Ikari-kun.”

“Call me Shou, everyone does.”

“…Thank you, Shou-kun.”

Shou laughs at that. “Honorifics still, dude? Just said you can call me Shou, plain and simple. I mean, I call you Toyama, no honorifics attached.”

“That’s also my last name, so it’s still a bit different…” Satoru fiddles with his fingers. “…how are you so comfortable with people calling you by your first name?”

Shou tilts his head. “Huh? Uh, I guess I never really thought about it. Well, everyone in our class knows each other, so I don’t see any reason they can’t…you not comfortable with stuff like that?”

“…names are very…special. To me at least. And calling someone their first name when I haven’t…earned their trust…it scares me.”

“…dude, you are quite literally the most trustworthy guy in class. Does everyone not go to you for questions about their pets?”

“Well yes, but-”

“But nothing! People like you, Toyama. Do you not think that?”

Satoru freezes up. “I- it’s not that, I know people like me, it’s just…nerve-wracking. To call people by their name.”

Shou spies the blush forming on the boy’s face. “…is this about you calling Inukai ‘Iroha-chan’ now?”

Satoru flusters, and Shou laughs. “It is that! That’s awesome. Honestly, how it took you so long is beyond me. Also, why does her cousin get to call you plain Satoru before Inukai could?”

“Komugi calls everyone by their first names. I’m not sure she even understands how honorifics work,” Satoru relents.

“Yeah that’s fair. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was Inukai’s dog turned into a person. They even have the same name! Did Inukai name her dog after her cousin or something?”

Satoru mumbled something, and Shou didn’t pay it much mind when he trailed off again.

“…is this the first time you’ve had a panic attack?” Shou decides to just bite the bullet. Might as well.

“Unfortunately no. And… and it’s not a panic attack. It was a meltdown.”

“…what’s the difference?” Shou wasn’t trying to be rude, but the fact he could even guess at a word for what happened to Satoru was something.

“Panic attacks are associated with people with anxiety disorders. Meltdowns are associated with those on neurodivergent spectrums, particularly those with ASD.”

Shou looks at Satoru like he grew a second head, so Satoru tries to rephrase it. “Anxiety leads to panic attacks. Being things like autistic leads to meltdowns.” It wasn’t quite accurate but he was already having to simply his vocabulary, so it would suffice.

“So you’re…autistic then? Because you said you had a meltdown, not a panic attack.”

“Correct.”

Shou didn’t respond for a while, just thinking. Satoru was mentally preparing for some demeaning, if well-meant, words. Instead…

“Does Daifuku usually help you when you have a meltdown?”

That’s not what he expected. But, he likes that Shou is just rolling with it. “Yes. He serves as a grounding tool. He’s…he’s warm, and soft, and just heavy enough to feel grounding without being suffocating.” Even just talking about his bunny was helping him relax. The school bell ringing signaled to the two that they should probably get a move on.

“…Thank you, Shou-kun.”

“Of course Toyama! We’re friends. Oh, uh, do I need to keep the autism thing secret? Or was I just out of the loop?”

“I don’t mind much either way. It’s a part of me that I have to accept, since it’s not going away. And I think our classmates will be kind.”

“For sure!” Shou assures, taking Satoru’s bag as they walk back to class. Once they make it in, he turns in the assignment sheet, informing their teacher that Satoru didn’t get it out before he took Shou to the infirmary. The teacher accepted the paper with no notes about it being considered late, so Shou shot Satoru a thumbs-up, and went back to his desk.

Meanwhile, in the corner, the girls were still concerned, but their worries were a bit alleviated by Satoru being visually better.

“Doing okay, Satoru-kun?” Iroha asked.

“Yes. Thank you, Iroha-chan.” Satoru smiled, and it relieved them all. Seems like the morning crisis was leveling out. He’d be back to normal soon.

[caseycabotsvu]

Abby Scuito x Reader (First Day Nerves)

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Reader is Abby’s new lab partner, it’s her first day on the job and she’s trying to adjust to her new environment. Reader is autistic/ wears hearing aids – no warnings just pure fluff and comfort. Words - 1588

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Waking up this morning an overwhelming sense of anxiety churned in my stomach, it was the first day of my new job at NCIS. Turning over to my clock I could see the time was 5am, way earlier than I would usually be awake, but I could not get anymore sleep. I rolled out of bed making sure to straighten up my duvet and pillows, before grabbing my dressing gown and shuffling towards the shower. Putting on the water, I got in allowing the water to trickle over my skin, trying to wash away the nauseous feeling my anxiety caused, as the soap ran over my body. Turning off the water, I quickly stepped out drying off and pulling on my dressing gown. Finally walking over to my vanity, I began drying and straightening my hair before tying it half up in two pigtails. I finished off by applying my makeup, trying as always to make my eyeliner perfect, then applying my cherry red lipstick, before walking into my closet, to find the perfect outfit, a simple back skirt, matched with a black graphic tee and my platform boots. Making a good impression was important for me, I would be working alongside a lady named Abby, as her lab partner and I did not want her to think I was anything less than perfect. Making my way to the kitchen I grabbed some breakfast before realising it was 6.30am and I needed to head out to work. Grabbing my bag, I raced down the stairs of my apartment complex towards the subway.

Taking the subway was always something I hated; the noise, the smells, the crowds. It was always so overwhelming to me, but I was too preoccupied with first day nerves I could not concentrate on that. Finally making it to the building, I was greeted boss Agent Gibbs. I had met him before at the recruitment so I felt as comfortable as I could. “Morning y/n. How are you feeling this morning?” Gibbs great at reading people’s emotions could already see you were on edge. “I’m fine, first day nerves but I’m ready.” You chirped out, trying to appear collected. “That’s good y/n, I have a feeling you and Abby will become great friends in no time. Let me introduce you to her.” Following Gibbs, you got into the elevator, going down to the lab. Your hands nervously flapped at your sides, a stim you could not control when you were nervous, it would useless trying to mask, you could not fully control it. Eyes darting round the room, spotted the raven-haired women, sat in her lab coat as if she had been waiting for you to arrive. “Hi Abby, this is your new lab partner y/n, I will leave her with you. Play nice remember.” Gibbs shot Abby a smirk as she rolled her eyes. “Hey y/n I’m Abby, how are you feeling? Any first day nerves yet?” “Hey Abby, umm yeah slightly, is it that obvious?.” Offering a small smile, you avoided her eye contact. “Well, I think I read people’s body language very well, and your hands are giving you away.” She laughed, “You’ll be fine, I’m here if you need anything, but I know your more than qualified for this job. Now how about we start running some tests on this case Gibbs brought me this morning.” “Okay sounds good.”

Throughout the day you began to trust Abby more, she was constantly reassuring you, leaving gentle pats on your shoulder. You realised you could be yourself with her, starting to wonder when you should open up to her about being autistic and wearing hearing aids, due to partial hearing loss. The though of the conversation was overwhelming enough, not to mention the entire day of talking with people, and the new environment was enough to throw you off, zoning out slightly, before your attention was brough back to you by Abby slightly squeezing your shoulders. “Hey y/l/n, a little spaced out tonight? Are you tired, I could get us some coffee?” Nodding, Abby took that as a hint to go grab some, from the staff room, leaving you to your thoughts once again. Once Abby retuned you enjoyed your coffee, talking about music, surprisingly you both had similar interests in music and fashion, you began feeling safe with her. “So, y/n shall we get back to work?” “Yeah sounds good.” “Okay well could you grab me those microscope slides from the draw please and we can get started.” Offering her a smile you walked over to grab them, but on the way back your trembling hands dropped them, causing an unexpected loud noise. Before you knew it, you dropped to the floor tears pricking at your eyes, as you placed your head on your knees rocking slightly try to calm yourself. Your breath caught in your throat as you began to hyperventilate, the panic attack consuming your body, you were trapped in your head, and all you could hear was the feedback of all the noises your hearing aids were picking up. Wanting to escape from the hell of the world, you pulled out your hearing aids as Abby tried to communicate with you. Abby had not realised you were wearing hearing aids until now, mentally scolding herself for not noticing the clues throughout the day, such as your intent gaze on her lips as she spoke when the lab was noisy. She quickly got down to your level, pulling you into her embrace gently rocking you, allowing you to calm down. She rubbed your back and gave you deep pressure to regulate your emotions. She hated seeing you so vulnerable, and in such distress, all she wanted was to help. Eventually coming round looking up at Abby you spoke, “Thank you.” Not saying a word Abby signed back to you, “Your welcome.” Catching you off guard, you frantically signed back, “You know ASL?” She nodded. Taking this as your time you carefully put your hearing aids back in, wanting to listen intently to Abby’s soothing tone.

After a while of silence, you and Abby now sat next to each other against the wall. “I’m here for you y/n if you want to talk about it? I know its only your first day, but I want to get to know you and understand so I can help.” “I’ve been waiting for the right moment all day, its just hard to understand when it was the best time.” “That’s okay, take your time. I’ll be here until you’re ready.” With your gaze locked on the floor, Abby reached over to hold your hand, stopping you from fidgeting. Before you could think, you let it all out. “I’m autistic Abby, I umm find it hard to bring it up with new people because I find it hard to read when the best time for that is and it makes me anxious thinking about it. I just get really overwhelmed by change, and today has been full of new things; new job, new place, new people, and it’s just been a lot for me.” “Hey, honey I understand that I really do. Your always safe with me y/n, whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, burnt out or anxious please come to me. If you don’t want to talk about it, you could always sign. The it would be our secret, until you’re ready to tell the other.” You giggled, signing thank you, before she continued.

“I didn’t realise you wore hearing aids, until I saw you take them out. I wish I knew sooner.” “Yeah I have partial hearing loss, from an accident as a kid, and I’ve been wearing them since, but sometimes it’s hard to focus on what people are saying when the rooms noisy, or there’s music in the background, so I learned to lip read and sign to help with that. So, if you catch me staring at your lips I promise I’m not being weird!” You laughed, finally calm. “I could never think that your amazing y/n, perfect the way you are!” “Thank you Abby, so how do you know ASL?” “Well, my adoptive parents were deaf, so I picked it up as a kid to communicate with them and now my new partner in crime uses ASL we have our own secret way to communicate, which I think is pretty cool.” She laughed, knocking into you, making you smile. “Thank you for making me feel better Abby, I’m glad todays gone well.” “I’m glad you feel that way y/n, thank you for opening up to me, I’ll always be here for you, no matter what you need.”

Soon after the conversation finished Gibbs walked into the lab, bring some new evidence in. “Hey girls, I have new evidence for you both. Glad to see your getting on well.” He smirked. “Since when am I hard to get on with.” Abby exclaimed! “Let’s not go there Abby.” He laughed back, “See you both later, I have work to do.” With that you and Abby, got up and got back to doing what you do best! You could not help but think how you had gotten so lucky to work with a lady so perfect as her.

[ukuraichu]

i was a teenage exocolonist is so fun so much so infact that i ran to my laptop to post my thoughts because i simply have so much to say and therefore have to type a lot.

ANYWHO. im going to document some things about my current runs. I've played the game twice and have amassed about 18h in the 2 days i've had it (woah.) so the hyperfixation is truly hyperfixationing. anywho x2. RAMBLING TIME. (under the cut)

SO IN MY FIRST RUN, i play as sol (they/them). i LOVE my dad, i love my mum but she's a little tough on me. i know she scolds me because she's worried about me and she just wants me to do well but it still. AHHH. i get frustrated and lash out sometimes. but i still love my mum. my childhood friend is marz, who i think is really cool but also i like to compete with her! she can't be the only coolest person ever. i don't remember what i picked as the augment though. ANYWAY.

i wasn't very close with tammy, but when she passed her presence was heavily felt. especially in the secret funtimes club. she would have loved to make friendship bracelets with us. i was enamoured by the very serious and focused and locked in autistic girl (tangent) who i grew up with. i went to classes mostly as an excuse to spend time with her and so that she would like me and pay attention to me, to think that we were of equal standing. her best friend was marz and i was jealous. i asked anemone to be my best friend and she said yes! but we grew apart over time anyway. I did some exploring, but not a lot of it. not enough to see a lot, but enough to sneak out with Dys. I explored and found a pet Hopeye, affectionately named Fungle (after the among us map LOL). I didn't know Dys very much though. he ran away, or went missing, or maybe blew up the colony when i was growing up. i never saw him again.

there was a famine and my mum died. my dad died soon after because of the shimmer. i never found out why. i just locked into robotics and engineering more and more. i named the little robot Ronaldine.

i don't remember the specifics of everything. the finer details are blurry. i just remember dedicating a lot of time with tang and spending time and time again with her, over, over, over. i didn't save the colony. we fell and died. also i didn't like the helios. but i was an obedient kid for the majority of my life up until my dad died and i started to become less obedient.

i grow old, i think. i made a lot of mistakes, but i still grow up. my partner at the time tang, becomes dejected and apathetic and hyperfocused on what happened to dys. i can't save her and she separates herself.

i start again

i wake up again

run 2!!!!!

this one went better. TLDR i saved tammy, not tonin or mum or dad i didnt know how. i become best friends with dys but also date his sister but also flirt with dys and his alien lover sym who i also flirt with but have to decline his advances because im dating tang and i cant tell her i made out with an alien </3. i also spent A LOT of time in the SFC, and work with marz to campaign to overthrow the government. also marz is one of my best friends in this run. also my nemesis, markedly, because i stole her dream job. but because im so close to sym like wow so close, he takes me to meet his big alien leader and is like. homie. i dont like humans but sym likes you and we could like. collab or something idk. like a peace plan. i accept his peace plan, im thinking so forward. so i bring about peace to the world. my mum and dad would have been so proud. i grow old and tang grows old and we break up but the love we shared was still there.

WAHHHH,...., thinking.

also i did NOT clock that tang was trans in the first run. when she said her body was modified i thought she meant. she literally used to be an actual robot. not genome therapy. my bad. love you tang. also when i become best friends with dys and he said he always knew she was his sister RAHHH it made me RGAHSGGFSDF because WOW. theyre literally SOUL BONDED whether they want to be or not. i want them to reconcile i need to get them to talk. idk how i build rex's bar but i WANT IT RAHHH

[mxartbo]

This is Novem, an OC of mine and also the first character the protaginist of my story (Case) encounters in the story I'm writing titled “Nouvelle Cuisine” :]

I'd try to describe her personality, but it's easier to just say “brutally honest autistic girl”. I have definitely not written her like this as a self-insert on how I would behave in social situations if masking wasn't required to not get bullied.

Just joking, I understand sarcasm sometimes, so I'm not autistic. [SKIP THIS, it's just me yappin about my day, no character lore] Any way, today (well, I guess yesterday, because it's 6AM already) I hung out with a friend, and it was awesome because we accorded before that we wouldn't speak at all and we both followed through!! No word was shared, and the silences weren't awkward. We planned this because, last time we hung out, I was like really low on my social battery and couldn't speak. I felt terrible, but she understood my struggles fully. It was actually her idea to not speak this time and try to communicate through text and drawings. IT WAS SO COOL, I LOVE COMMUNICATING SENTENCES TROUGH TINY DRAWINGS. I also tried signing some letters, but I don't think my fingers can stretch so far and my memory issues won't let me remember the alphabet. And now that I think about it, that alphabet thing is not just for SL, it applies to any alphabet because I'm like almost graduating and becoming an adult (physically, mentally idk) and I HAVE TO SING IT EVERY TIME. Why am I like this. I also don't know how the order of the months of the year, how to read hours on an analog clock, when seasons start, how to multiply and divide. So idk if I can use my neurodivergent card here, I think I'm just plain stupid at this point. How am I amongst the best of my class? Like, the third-best grade in a 35+ student class!?!?

TIME: 2H aprox. right after finishing my other drawing, I should go to sleep. SOFTWARE: A random notebook and pencil for sketching, Clip Studio Paint for rendering.

[thecommunalfoolboy]

What your favorite Lupin The Third Character says about you

When people make these they always just say nice things and traits of the character and it’s dumb so here’s me being right

Anyway my reputation for misogyny is legendary

Ok this largely depends on if you like edgy Jigen or goofy ah Jigen but

You desperately need to stop getting into arguments online, both in general and on whether Jigen is deep and emo or a silly guy

Gay Gay homosexual gay 🫵

You took one look at him and Lupin and said “Damn these bitches gay!” In a half joking way but the show itself proved you right in 10 seconds

Lol emo

Ok but actually seek psychiatric care

You either write porn about him in your head or you’re extremely asexual

There’s something weird going on with your gender but that’s kinda true if you watch this show in general

You’re too broke to get that next piercing don’t do it

You’re either as devastated about them whitewashing our boy as I am or you should be

Hey remember they whitewashed Goemon too you should be equally as mad about that

You head canon he speaks Spanish

Go to bed

He’s a nice man

Seek help brother

You play with jpegs like dolls

Beneath your eyes is a deep dark hole of information on this show’s lore

You also hate him so much and you want to see him die painfully <3

You want that twink OBLITERATED

You should really raise the price on your art it is so much better than you think it is

Some of you have only seen the first and it shows

“Brother,,,,, help me,,,,,,”

“Long live the king……”

Lol you thought I’m not letting you off that easy you’re deeply traumatized You’ve never felt safe in your life and the most inner hurt part of you desperately needed an adult to help you at a time in your life when you should’ve been worried about learning your times tables not whether you’d survive another day and one of the reasons you’re drawn to characters like this and collect fictional fathers is because you see a glowing smile and an infallible hero who could’ve saved you when you needed it the most

Or you’re Japanese native but like

Autism 👿

Woah dude are you like… autistic???

Stop looking at his tits

A small but significant subsection of you people are just racist and cannot be normal about Japan

If someone asked your thoughts on him you’d just be like :)))) the silly

You have way too many screenshots of him looking weird in the background

You def hate part 5 and twcfm

Whenever tms forgets he exists for a while you still watch it but you look like a wet kitten

You’re def short

You need to stop coping and accept it he looked fully insane in part 3 the hair is so so bad

You’re probably transmasc

I just wanna say I’m so sorry

She’s an ugly bitch there I said it

STROP BEING HORNY

You’re probably a girl

And definitely bi

Y’all probably know the least about the show as a whole

Good for you!! You actually touch grass

Or again you’re in the racist subgroup

The titles for each character confuse you but you only realized this one’s Fujiko because either I just said it or you saw the “stop being horny” and knew

You probably have insanely hot takes on the show

They did your girl dirty im so sorry

You’d die on the hill of whichever of her hair colors you think is best but at least you’re dead

I’m scared of you

Hey you should watch the first if you haven’t already

Zemigamna 🥺

You cry every time someone says Yata was boring and didn’t need to be in the show

Miyazaki studio gibli ass 🫵

Please you still have time left you can get out before you become obsessed you’re not in too deep yet RUN RUN SAVE YOURSEL

Or this show is all you have left and it’s infinitely too late for you no in between

Again probably a girl

You’re definitely not normal about fujiko either

You hate that one movie where he’s a dick with a burning passion and you would write 20 page essays on it

If you’re obsessed with him you probably have a chronic illness (same bestie) or major physical disability

Anyway if I fully clocked you let me know I think it’s funny to see you guys suffer

[bylersecretsanta2023]

from @autistic-katara, to @kirjavafan

Part 1:

1979

The final bell of the day at Hawkins Elementary, Mike couldn’t be happier. He’d been watching the clock for what felt like hours.

He walked out of school with his best friend, Will Byers, and they stood together as they waited for their moms to come pick them up.

“Hey… Mike?” He heard Will ask.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come over tomorrow? It’s the first night of Chanukah, and my mom said I could invite you.”

“Sure,” Mike replied, “but what’s Chanukah?”

“It’s this holiday where we light some candles at night for eight days, my mom says it’s Jewish.” Will explained. “We haven’t celebrated it for years ‘cause of my dad but he’s not here this year so…” He trailed off. “But yeah, there’s food and music and from what I remember it’s really fun so do you wanna come?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll ask my mom later.” Mike answered.

Will grinned. “Cool!”

Just then Mike’s mom pulled up and Mike walked over to her.

“Oh! Also, Jonathan told me to ask you to ask Nancy if she wanted to come too!” Will called after him.

His mom said yes to him going over, with Nancy agreeing to come too. The next night their mom dropped the two of them off at the Byers’ house and they went inside, not sure what to expect.

The first thing that he noticed when he went inside was the smell of food. He couldn’t exactly place the smell, though it was sort of similar to when his mom made roast potatoes.

Joyce welcomed them inside, telling them to wait in the living room while she finished making something called “latkes”.

Mike hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it was the most fun he’d had in ages. They played this game where they spun a thing called a dreidel and bet chocolate coins. They ate donuts and the weird potato things called latkes (that tasted amazing with sour cream), and Joyce put on some lively music in a language Mike didn’t understand.

They sat around the table, a thing with nine candle holders, one candle on the far left and another on the slightly raised middle (Joyce had called it a “chanukiah”), standing in on it. Joyce lit the middle candle with a lighter and then used the lit candle to light the other.

When Mike asked why they lit the candles like that she had told them the story of the holiday. She talked about how the Greeks had invaded and were trying to destroy Jewish culture and religion, how a small army had driven the invaders away, but afterward they only had enough oil to keep their menorah (“like a chanukiah but bigger and with less candles” she’d explained) burning for a day, meanwhile it would take eight days to get more, but miraculously the small jug of oil had lasted them the whole time. It was why they lit candles for eight days, lighting one candle on day one (plus the “shamash” which Joyce said represented the oil) and lighting an extra one each night until on the last night all of the candles were lit.

When it was time to go home Mike really didn’t want to, he’d had so much fun. But Joyce had promised him he could come over another night during the holiday as well.

Mike went over for Chanukah almost every year. He didn’t go every night, but for at least one of them he would be there, lighting candles and playing dreidel.

That was, at least, until Chanukah 1985.

Part 2:

Mike sat in his bedroom, the clock beside his bed reading 1:05am. He should probably be asleep.

Instead, he was sitting at his desk writing.

Dear Will, I hope you’re having a nice night.

This week’s the first Chanukah in years that I’m not coming over to yours to celebrate, and I’ll be honest I never knew I’d miss it this much until we couldn’t do it.

He paused writing, debating on whether to try and draft the rest of the letter into something sendable or to let this delve into something else to add to his “unsent letters” pile.

I’ll be more honest, I didn’t know how much I’d miss you until you were gone. I wish you were back here and we could talk over a plate of your mom’s latkes or something. I know it’s stupid, but fuck it. It’s not like I’m going to send this anyway.

I half wish I’d told you that I love you last year. Maybe the rejection from that would’ve made this hurt less, or maybe in some alternate universe where you liked me back you wouldn’t have left.

I don’t know, stupid 1am thoughts. Sorry for writing this in a way where it’ll never reach you.

Love, Mike.

[nattensijus]

once again!!! here's what i love about 9x11 in terms of what it says about autism!!

okay so, the professor?? he's autistic. once again, they didn't say it, but it was EXTREMELY obvious. him saying "i had chicken, if it was thursday. i like predictability" also they know his daughter there who always get his food meaning he probably gets the same one every week for years... mood <3

brennan immediately clocking that they're the same was such a special moment to me <3

it was soo sweet that she asked him if he wanted to finish his task first before they talk to him because that's such an integral part of autism, to struggle with transition, especially transition between tasks!!! what i really like about this show is that it feels like they truly sat down and researched how to make brennan a fully fleshed person who's autistic and not just said oh yeah she's bad with people and called it a day. it's soo important to me <3

ok in the beginning her saying "i find myself quite giddy at the prospect of discovering how it destroyed the remains" special interest time !!!

what do i do when i'm upset? you bury yourself in your work. ijust ! love the way she's like hey look at what i do (person you love) and now transfer that over to the professor who behaves the same way to have some empathy. love her <3

"booth refuses to accept the fact that i understand the professor because he and i are quite similar." "emotions are difficult for people like the professor and myself. getting lost in our work can be a refuge. booth thinks that makes us weird." "not everyone understands people like us"

i NEED to mention that brennan says "i have excellent pattern recoginition!" because of of course you do!! this is so well done <3

[hiddenwashington]

                                       we are the april fools

welcome to the brain cell of the admin team working! we love a good bit so, here is a compilation of our bullshit for your memeing pleasure. enjoy!

**tw for nsfw, drug mention, alcohol mention, swearing

‘ fuck off you fucking gremlin ’

‘ mister mistoffelees is my cat boyfriend ’

‘ one is a kink, one is a crime ’

‘ i live for chaos you gotta feed me ’

‘ i’ll continue being an asshole for your amusement ’

‘ i’m ready, bring on the anxiety ’

‘ hey bro, what the fuck ’

‘ we’ll scar ourselves for valentines day ’

‘ and then she wrote me a novel about his cocaine addiction ’

‘ sponsored by ritz cheese crackers, absolute shit ’

‘ you have no legacy, your legacy is to be disappointed all the time ’

‘ you’re like some sad soccer mom that came for the wine instead of your kids soccer game ’

‘ karen can choke i would never forget the sangria ’

‘ your moms dead, i’m your problem now ’

‘ it is i, the mullet of your dreams ’

‘ you cannot mention pornhub! this is why you’re not hr ’

‘ i’m on the clock to knock your lights out ’

‘ i’m livin la tiddy loca ’

‘ she was hot, i don’t know what to tell you ’

‘ righting the world and the economy one karen at a time ’

‘ you can fight my brain and my anxiety sis we’re having ✨a terrible time✨ ’

‘ i’m on it drag that bitch to denny’s i’ll take her ass out ’

‘ can god stop vibe checking me ’

‘ today i learned that cocaine could be an antidepressant if the government weren’t cowards ’

‘ i had five shots of espresso, even god can’t stop me ’

‘ ted bundy is up first i will square up ’

‘ one day i will have the pleasure of going to hell and murdering freud ’

‘ i will not face consequences for my actions. you can not make me ’

‘ i can accept that i have a flaw or two. that’s it though, just two ’

‘ i know you try very hard, but you are very stupid ���

‘ let’s go straight, a thing we’ve never said before in this groupchat ’

‘ you better be ready to sleep with moth man - hi dad! ’

‘ that’s like the saddest uwu i’ve heard in my life ’

‘ i just want the thrill of rejecting a god ’

‘ you really think you could take on the kool-aid man and take no damage??? ’

‘ i don’t have a foot fetish, i’m just autistic ’

‘ i haven’t even learned multiplication, how am i supposed to know what a pyramid scheme is? ’

‘ do i look sexy while dying? ’

‘ have you been watching too much youtube? ’

‘ fucking ipad kids, man ’

‘ i can be sane about this i promise but not today ’

‘ i’m a catch and i can also sleep with a younger man ’

‘ how do you milk an oat ’

‘ fuck my dad ’

‘ sometimes you just need to start swinging ’

‘ i just watched a cat girl walk out of thin air in a starbucks ’

‘ isn’t that that furry thing people are into ’

‘ i’m gonna go on The Google and see if i can figure anything out ’

‘ am i high too? ’

‘ fuck off bambi ’

‘ since there was no warning and i make the rules here ’

‘ you’ll go where i say you’ll go ’

‘ does a - mother fucker ’

‘ gonna play chase the emo ’

‘ we love biting dilfs….? ’

‘ optimistic nihilism, right? none of us matter ’

‘ it’s kinda cringe to be kidnapped ’

‘ you rolled a 5, stfu this rabbit’s coming to brand you ’

‘ is he immune to KNIVES?? ’

‘ alright – now to kill this dad ’

‘ if you think garfield is going to stand against me in court, you’re out of your fucking mind ’

‘ no offense but you have like no mom vibes ’

‘ i think i got threatened by a furry ’

‘ speak of the cat lady and she shall appear ’

**shotguns frappuccino** ‘ there’s many ways to drink a drink ’

‘ these hands are magic, baby ’

‘ are you saying naruto is jesus?? ’

‘ your pride is going to get us killed ’

‘ you look like you could fit under a bush ’

‘ y’all test me… ’

‘ it’s your reward for being a dumb bitch ’

‘ i am SO GLAD you didn’t get vored by a cloud ’

‘ did you get so high/drunk you circled back to sober? ’

‘ try to crowd surf the third graders! ’

‘ some things are better off unknown , the phrase will haunt me but… ’

‘ we’ve summoned satanic tennessee ’

‘ what’s a chakra? i didn’t bring anything with me ’

‘ hey lady, did you give me crack ? ’

‘ there are no nutrients in my body, only spite! ’

‘ i’m here to be fun and cute! not smart! ’ 

‘ i don’t joke about setting timers ’

‘ eggs aren’t meat... yet ’

‘ this is being run by a bisexual maniac ’

‘ maybe nessie’s lonely, maybe nessie needs to get laid! ’

‘ biting is my kink ‘

‘ don’t worry, i will slowly eat away at you until you are a husk of a person ’

[chemacetree]

A letter from a queer daughter to her mom

I love you

I know you love me

You held me in your arms tight, before they rushed me off to the NICU, without even a name picked out for me yet. You were so sick after I was born, and so was Dad, and so was I. What a trio were we! 

And yet, after all the APGAR score scares and the feeding worries and the bouts of preeclampsia and flu, we made it. Your little daughter, your first child and only little girl, named after both of your grandmothers. Here I am, all grown up, and queer. 

Dear Mom, I know you don’t get why queer people are queer, or choose to be out, and marry, and transition, and everything else queer people do. It’s not something you’re really meant to get. It’s not about you. But I know that’s not a satisfactory answer. It wasn’t for me for a long time. I know you don’t know all the right words to say, or the right pronouns to use, or the right phrases to stick to. I get it. I wish I could make it easier for you to keep track of everything; heaven knows how much has changed since you were born. 

You didn’t understand why I felt like I was running out of grace, or having to tiptoe between being queer and being your daughter. You promised that you’d love me and treat me well no matter what, and I believe you. I promise that I know you love me. 

I don’t know if you’d love my best friends, if you knew. I don’t know you’d take me seriously if I told you that the “boy” who wanted to date me in high school was actually a girl, or if you’d write her off as being too mentally ill to really know. I don’t know if you’d be excited for me to visit my internet friends if you knew they were getting married, as two non-binary people, instead of moving to a new country. It feels like every queer person you can think of has some extenuating circumstance or excuse to make you wonder if they’re really queer, or just traumatized, which doesn’t really comfort your daughter, diagnosed autistic and wondering if you blame my sexuality on my disability. Not, to be fair, that you’ve said anything to that effect. 

There is a whole part of my life that I just cannot share with you. How am I supposed to tell the person who spent an hour raging about trans people “forcing new grammar on people” that I’m happiest in my own body when I look visibly queer? That I want to be seen, not just as a girl, but a queer girl? That, if you didn’t FaceTime every week, I’d hang a pride flag in my room next to my crucifix and rosary? 

I dyed my hair and bought “unprofessional” skirts and got a button up with whales on it. I started doing my hair more and putting in hairbows and dressing up for no reason. I put pins with colorful beads on my lanyard. You see the clothes and the hair bows and the shoes and think “finally, she’s taking an interest in her clothing after twenty years”. I see the way my rainbow-pin-wearing classmates clock me and drop the tension in their shoulders. 

You have told me since I was little that God blessed me with a big heart. For a while, I wrestled with that, because I was naïve and gullible and too emotional for everything. It’s hard to make peace with, some days, that trusting people wholeheartedly sometimes means being led astray or hurt. But you encouraged me to surround myself with good Christian people, people with kindness and compassion, people who loved openly and gave generously without counting the cost. I have found them! I’ve found the people I want to grow up to become, people who love openly and warmly and reflect God’s love to others. And they are very often queer.

It keeps ending up that way, funnily enough. The people who seem to most embody God’s love keep ending up queer, or very supportive of queer people. And I think I understand why; the longer I held vinegar in my mouth, dripping hatred and condescension for queer people, the harder it became to love without some measure of distrust and fear, because what if they were gay? Or trans? Or something else I didn’t understand? I spent so long not knowing my own sexuality because I flatly refused to acknowledge it, even when my friends point-blank asked. I spent even longer terrified of how you reacted when I told you. My brother outed me. I’m lucky I’m the palatable flavor of queer for you, so you could encourage me to be a nun instead of trying to keep me from kissing girls or wearing boy’s clothes. 

It doesn’t matter if you don’t know what to do all the time. It matters that you care. It matters that you try. Queer people are not your enemy. They’re my people. Not some nebulous “them” with an agenda; but my community, my friends, and me. What you say about the most baffling and unpalatable queer person you can think of, in the privacy of your car ride home, you say about the comprehensible, palatable queer daughter in that car. 

I want to be able to tell you about my friends, my classmates, even my favorite DND podcasts. I want to be able to tell you about how cis people can get gender euphoria after all, and that when I looked in the mirror that first time with my blue hair and my new skirt, I got it. I want to be able to tell you that I’m finally going to participate in a wedding as the maid of honor, and not just the flower girl.

I wish I could rejoice with you and show you the Side A churches in our city, and have you come to Mass with me there one time. One day, when we’re both older, I hope we still can. There is so much joy to be had in being an openly queer child of God. 

Please come home with me. I want you in my life.

Sincerely, 

Your queer daughter, who loves you very much

[brainshock-alpha]

For the fanfic writing asks: 7, 18, 26, 29, 78

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

so here's a short one that i haven't shown you before; after the readmore i'll add a longer one that you've already seen but i still wanna post lol

"Nice outfit." [Raihan turns and sees Piers coming around the corner.] "I didn't fool you for a second, did I?" [they say, grinning.] "You kiddin'? I'd clock those mako eyes of yours anywhere." [The reference gets a good chortle out of them.] "Hahaha! I'm a first-class SOLDIER, don't you know? Macro Cosmos enhanced me with Eternatus cells." "Oh my god, can you imagine?" [They share a good laugh together.]

(the brackets are supposed to indicate like, placeholder text or stage directions that i wanna edit later but in practice i end up bracketing most non-dialogue text on the first pass LOL,,,, it's fine,)

18. Do you enjoy research?  Which fic of yours required the most research?

most of the time i do! it's fun to learn new things, of course. but sometimes, man, i feel like i'm trying to roll a boulder up a mountain (labeled "executive dysfunction" like in a freaking political cartoon) and just not getting anywhere with it. as for which fics need the most research, uh, probably any of the ones where i have to write in a language i don't speak ^-^;;; which so far is just Merlin's Bairns and The Day To End All Days. and really the former was entirely in scots whereas the latter just has scots dialogue, so you might think the former unequivocally needed more research. but here's the thing... end all days has a single line of scottish gaelic... and having to come up with that seriously tipped the scales the other way i think. lmao

26. What’s your least favorite part of the writing process?

proooobably coming up with the first draft of anything... the process of putting ideas down on paper for the first time is always so strenuous for me. for some people, being able to just stream-of-conscious that shit into the text editor is a legitimate skill that needs to be developed, and i'm one of them 😔 not that doing the editing afterwards is always a breeze either... ahhhh

29. What’s something about your writing that you’re proud of?

i've gotten this question a couple times in the past, and let's see, i've already talked about my dialogue writing... and i think i've mentioned my fluff fics too... so how about something else? i like what i can come up with when i put a word limit on myself! i feel like i can convey a fair bit even when i don't have a lot of words to work with.

78. What motivates you during the writing process?

........... divine providence mostly LMAO. uhhh in general i have trouble staying motivated throughout a personal project, or any protracted endeavor. when it comes to creative works, though, i can usually get some fuel out of wanting to see something fairly-to-extremely specific come to life. if i wait for someone else to make things that cater to my niche interests i'll be waiting basically forever, so it's up to me to write about leon trapped in a time loop, or hop trying charcuterie with his new brother raihan, or an autistic grad student falling in love with an autistic himbo jock in a surreal post-post-apocalyptic world... well, you get the point! not to mention it's fun to see people's reactions to my fairly-to-extremely specific ideas :)

the longer wip excerpt that i said i'd post:

[context: gloria and victor just got their gym challenge uniforms, before the motostoke opening ceremony]

"Glo! Get a load'a this. Did you know that numbers with leading zeroes count as different to numbers without?" [he informs her, holding up the top to show off what's printed on the back: Victor 001.] "What!" is her first, honest reaction. But she recovers quick enough to jab at him, "That just makes you a discount Leon, y'know." "Shut up," Victor retorts cheerfully, taking the locker next to hers. "You're just mad you didn't think of it first." [It's a funny move, so she is a little jealous. But she's also pretty happy with her own number, 102, even if no one but Victor and Hop is allowed to know why she picked it.] "Positively fuming, aye. So is it pronounced 'zero-zero-one' or 'oh-oh-one'?" "Uhhh, it's just, 'one'. The zeroes are, uh, silent." He can't even finish his sentence without laughing. "Okay, sure. Whatever. You gonna catch a foongus and start saying 'let's have a champignon time' too?" [cackling] "No, you git! Hop's gonna think I'm a freak!!"