#and whenever I say this to someone who isn’t physically disabled they think I’m being dramatic and I’m so tired of it

[virigorne]

My boss trying to force me to come in tomorrow when I know I can just quit

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset at my best friend for calling me a hoarder in passing?

My (29NB) best friend (also 29NB) have been going through major crises lately at the same time—we will call them Sun. So, yesterday, they sent me a text, when we weee talking about how they haven’t wanted to be over at my house for a while, mostly bc they don’t like my partner…although the subject was in discussion bc my partner and I are splitting up, and I will be living alone again in a couple months. At some point in this discussion, they mentioned the more pressing matter that’s caused them not to be over as much is that they are very allergic to one of my cats—but only the one I just adopted a couple years ago, they’ve had no allergy issues w the other one and they love her very much, she is their niece.

However, at one point, they mentioned that a few years ago, when I was using drugs a lot more irresponsibly than usual—to the point where I got injured from falling down the stairs—they had been speaking to my other close friends. Which is appreciated, and I knew about this already obviously since there was an intervention that happened around that time…the way they mentioned this was upsetting. Specifically, they mentioned that “they approached [other friend of mine] about my drug use bc they thought I was becoming a hoarder” and that MAJORLY triggered me—specifically the hoarder comment. The woman who gave birth to me/raised me is a hoarder, which is a well known fact to just about anyone who is close to me irl, especially anyone who’s known her irl, and ESPECIALLY Sun, who worked as her caregiver for quite a while. Also being compared to/told I am just like my abusive egg donor is the thing that will hurt me the most, bc she is the most cruel, manipulative, abusive people I’ve ever had in my life.

So the thing is, my house is indeed very messy…I have too much junk around, and it’s very difficult for me physically to keep anything clean. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m separating from my partner, and as ashamed as I am about it, I understand. However, it’s not a hoarding disorder at all—I don’t hold onto anything I don’t need out of sentimentality, and if I could wave a magic wand and simply get rid of all the extra shit I don’t need/make everything nice and clean, I would. Unfortunately, I am very disabled with too many chronic pain/fatigue conditions, and actually cleaning the house/sorting through shit to get rid of takes immense physical effort. But whenever someone offers to help me, I jump at those opportunities! I take things to be donated all the time (if I’m able to sort through the stuff that needs to go) and it’s entire worlds different than my egg donor refusing to give up several bins of my baby clothes bc she can’t bear to part with them, despite them never seeing use in her possession ever again.

So, I responded to Sun’s mention of a past conversation thinking I’m a hoarder, with offense and saying it hurt me. We had been discussing just downsizing and how we will be going through my stuff as we pack for the new place, and had mentioned that I should make sure to get rid of certain clothing things if they have holes/are worn out/whatever, which to me, sounded like they think I have a hard time throwing clothes away even if they’re not even wearable anymore. With that and the hoarding accusation in mind, I told them I was very hurt by this. I made sure to be respectful and kind yet assertive, but after explaining how this was an unfair assumption/description of me, they got upset and said I should’ve asked for clarification before coming at them.

Now, do me, I wouldn’t have even considered they meant anything other than how I interpreted it, so it would never have even occurred to me to ask for clarification if I’m not even aware there’s a miscommunication. Apparently, the reason they mentioned getting rid of clothes that have been too worn out is an issue they have themselves, but this isn’t anything I was ever aware of, and once again never would’ve thought was referring to anyone but me. They also say they’re aware that it’s my physical difficulties that make cleaning physically painful for me…but honestly, that’s not anywhere near the same as having a hoarding disorder, which is indeed what they’d accused me of.

Of course, I know the both of us overreacted—me, being offended about being accused of being a hoarder (especially since my immense difficulty cleaning the house is part of why I’m separating from my partner and is therefore something I’m incredibly sensitive about right now) and them, being offended that I took what they said wrong and being upset over some things they didn’t actually intend w what they said…but I’m just not sure if maybe I AM in the wrong here, for expressing being hurt by being called a hoarder here, or if I really am making the entire thing a big deal out of nothing.

So, AITA for voicing my offense at being called a hoarder?

What are these acronyms?

[epic-sorcerer]

Ok so I feel like whenever someone makes a post on like…accessabiltiy surff you get a bunch of people saying like “I have (x) can I use this?” Or like a bunch of people apologizing for stuff they clearly need.

So like upfront imma say this. If big stalls improve your life in ANY way, any way at all, use them. They would not improve an abled’s life what so ever, and if it improves your life, you are 100% worthy of using it. Invisible conditions, mental conditions, just physically being too wide for a small stall, I don’t care. Use it. Everyone’s quality of life is important, including yours.

Also I know this post is long, but I don’t feel like…yk answering a bunch of questions about this so I’m gonna try and answer the ones I’m able to anticipate, but that being said, please do ask questions. Just be nice and make sure you read the whole psot first

Ok? Ok. Let’s get to the post

So this psot is specifically about the big bathroom stalls in the multi stall bathrooms. Not the signle stall family ones.

I feel like a lot of ppl who have never needed the big stall jsut don’t understand how important it is to keep it clear for someone who does need it. Because here’s the thing.

In my book? If you don’t need the stall, don’t use it under any circumstances UNLESS:

1. You are about to have an accident/be late to something important and everything else is full

2. You need to change a baby and the thin stalls are too thin for that

3. You are a caretaker for someone who does need that stall

Think of the big stall as equivalent to the bathroom of opposite gender. You wouldn’t just walk in if you didn’t apsolutly have any other choice.

(Obviously with some trans and NB ppl this either doesn’t apply or whatever but if this analogy works for some it’s worth putting it in)

Now, some ppl may read that and think that I may be too strict here. But I’m not. Here’s why.

See, what not a lot of ppl really know about us is that…when you’re the kind of person who needs that big stall, you most likely waited a long long time before getting up. Because getting up can be painful, difficult, exhausting, etc. meaning that not only could you jsut be making us wait in general, you could be making us experience a lot of pain because it fucknig hurts to hold it in. And that’s ON TOP of our preexisting conditions too

Secondly, sometimes these conditions can cause people to need to go right away! Incontinence, bladder/bowel problems reallt arnt as rare as people seam to think.

And even beyond that, my very fun nerve disorder does this thing where sometimes my bladder is completely numb and then I only realize I have to pee when I have like…15 mins max before I piss myself.

Another fun thing it likes to do? It ALSO likes to make my urethra burn for no fucking reason and the only thing I can possibly do to make it go away is to pee!!

Thankfully, I’m usually able to exist without mobility aids. But sometimes? I’m not. So keep the damn stall clear.

Alos, here’s a comment that actually inspired thsi psot. It’s on a quora question asking if disabled ppl should get priority for big stalls.

Some ppl may think this is reasonable—it isn’t.

1. How can you KNOW there isn’t a disabled person waiting? Not all disablities are visable

2. What if a disabled person coems in once the abled begins to use it?

Also I just wanna say again. Not all disabilities are visable. If you see an “abled” person using a accessible stall, don’t say a damn thing. Don’t. I don’t care what amazing one liner your prepared for this occasion. I don’t care about whatever vigilante justice you think you are doing. Because they are probably disabled and tired of y’all’s shit.

I know this post is being very, very angry about ppl who hog our stuff. But in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t a crime or anything outwardly horrible. The world won’t burst into flames on the off chance that person using the stall was truly abled.

All I’m asking is for people who don’t need this stall to really take in what I say and at least think about it.

Also I listed a lot of sanarios and such about us needing a stall quickly. Although that’s not true ALL the time for us, it’s ture for us wayyyy more than it is for y’all. So that’s why I put emphasis on it

[morsking]

is shirou a mary sue? the guy is universally well liked, cooks like a pro at 17, has the most op power from all fate (and arguably one of the most cool powers on media), nothing ever happens to him on the true/canon path of each route, he does many stupid things but no one cares 5 minutes later, other times like in salter vs rider he is just a tactical genius out of nowhere

he is not.

shirou is well-liked but he isn't particularly popular. he is known at school for being helpful and handy but otherwise not that many people are aching to get to know him or involve him in their lives. most people only know shirou very superficially. he is not sought after as a person, only as a handy man. there's a really neat scene at the beginning of hf1 where people are talking about shirou in the dojo and see that while he's earnest, hard-working, and talented, he's a bit odd and intense and that makes him a little difficult to approach casually. the only people who really like him are those who sit down and actually spend time with him. apart from the heroines of the story with whom he has time to develop a romantic bond, you don't see other girls falling head over heels for him. in fact, in hollow ataraxia the homurahara trio and mitsuzuri are quick to write him off as someone they are vehemently not interested in romantically whatsoever.

he only cooks like a pro because he had to teach himself to cook since he was 8. it's vital to understand that since kiritsugu became increasingly disabled and was utterly incapable of living as a normal human being, shirou was forced to grow up well before he was ready to take care of his adoptive father. he learned to cook, do the dishes, do the laundry, and clean the house because there were no other real adults in the house. shirou's domestic usefulness didn't come out of nowhere, it's a set of skills he took on out of necessity and came at the expense of his emotional growth.

shirou's power also isn't op. it's stated multiple times in the story how difficult it is for him to tap into it. he's not a natural mage with strong magical circuits, and neither does he have any real "useful" magical alignments that would make it easy for him to use conventional magecraft. every training session shirou has is a life-threatening act where he pushes his body and mind to the utmost limit for the low chance he might succeed at strengthening or projecting something. whenever he grabs hold of an ability that elevates his combat skills, it's either a) done with saber's help in the fate route, b) acquired as his soul inherits experience from his proximity to archer in ubw and receiving mana from rin, or c) obtained at the expense of the integrity of his mind and body as archer's arm starts to supplant his existence in heaven's feel. and even then, there's limits to what he can trace and project. he can't trace divine constructs normally as seen with ea, and his projections eat through his mana. think about what happens in heaven's feel too. every time he projects something with archer's arm he leaps closer to death because he can't handle the strain.

to say nothing ever happens to him in canon is also disingenuous. he doesn't die in a permanent sense, but take a moment to consider the amount of mental and physical pain he suffers that forces him to confront something about himself and change. did "nothing" happen when he faced gilgamesh and heracles with saber? is growing closer to her to find the best way to help her assert her personhood "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought archer? is realizing the truth of your ideals and grasping the resolve to realize them anyway in a healthier and more self-aware manner "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought heracles, saber alter, and kotomine? is saving your loved ones and claiming your life as your own after years of not seeing yourself as a human being to protect those dear to you so they too learn to love and accept themselves "nothing"?

take a moment to consider in what ways shirou is stupid that aren't contradicted by him being smart in others. shirou is socially inept and utterly incapable of asking for help because he is a traumatized teenager who doesn't know what a normal life is. he has few friends. he survived a fire. he is constantly trying to make up for being unable to rescue anyone in the calamity that destroyed his childhood. he constantly jumps in front of danger to save others for that very reason and refuses help because he doesn't want others to get hurt because of him until he learns to overcome that fear of being destroyed and seeing others be destroyed. he is dumb at being a person because he's never let himself be one. he is smart in a fight because he's at least been able to process his stress and trauma in a way that helps him rationalize his way out of a crisis.

i feel the need to stress that a protagonist having special qualities fit for the narrative isn't them being a mary sue. it's them simply being a main character with agency, a main character that is engaging and interesting. how boring do you think shirou and the story would be if he was really a shit-ass mcnobody with no talents, personality, qualities, or meaningful connections to the setting? he'd be no different from every other harem protag the cishet male audience can use as a self-insert. he is supposed to subvert ideas of masculinity by being domestic. he challenges conventional ideas of heroism by showing how his ideals are flawed and how important it is that he self-actualize.

shirou faces consequences for his inaction and inexperience multiple times too. saber gets frustrated because he won't (tell her why he really won't) fight and that causes a rift in their relationship he must fix with honesty and mutual understanding. shirou's inability to protect himself from hypnotic suggestion gets him kidnapped by caster and forces archer to rescue him, and in turn their shared stubbornness elevates their conflict to deadly levels until they're forced to fight to work out their differences. heaven's feel shows you how his unwillingness to forsake who he is to properly scold sakura and save her makes the situation worse when sakura loses faith that shirou will keep his promise to her until he decides he will fulfill it for both their sakes. people do care! saber cares when her master doesn't see eye to eye with her! rin cares that shirou is too willing to throw away his own life for others! archer cares that he is at risk of becoming that which archer can't forgive himself for being! sakura cares because seeing the man she loves come home bruised and bloodied every night is wrong! illya cares because he is her only true family! rider cares because if shirou can't be sakura's ally then she's as good as dead! everyone cares because shirou has to learn to care too, and he does!

i'm going to ask you to try to engage with media without trying to uncover flaws under rigid standards like this because all it does is keep you from properly understanding what is being shown to you. you cannot hope to judge a story and its characters for all their flaws or merits if this is how you approach things.

[outrunningthedark]

Honestly whenever I see Megan I get the same type of angry I do when I’d see Gabrielle

Gabrielle was because she isn’t actually Latina and she still played that part.

But with Megan she just keeps making it worse and worse and I never cared for her to begin with, she really isn’t all that memorable and yeah I’ve seem worse acting but I’ve also seen a lot better acting. But the things I’ve because aware of that she’s said and is saying? I’m just so angry at her and with her and with this fandom because they don’t care

They don’t care when it’s about people like us. If we have disabilities or if we aren’t white or id we aren’t whatever fits with their perfect world.

So when I see those two I get so angry because it’s a reminder about how we don’t matter as much if at all to them. To the fans and cast.

Though I cannot experience the emotions felt by Latinx fans as they watched Gabrielle falsely present herself as part of the community, I can absolutely relate to the desire for ACCURATE representation. A non-Latina willingly auditioning for a role she knows doesn't belong to her is much like an able-bodied actor wanting to "play" a disabled character. I won't speak for anybody else, but when I'm forced to watch someone pretend to be "like me" I just feel...invisible. Whose story is being told on screen? 'Cause it sure as hell isn't mine. Megan ignoring ableism is obviously the one that hits harder for me (sending love to all disabled members of the Latinx community who have to deal with double the bullshit!), even more than Cocoa's homophobic rhetoric and Megan liking homophobic tweets. (Unsurprisingly, the part of Megan's social media activity that's gotten the most attention was when she co-signed the anti-Buddie crowd.) And I don't think people understand, nor care to understand, why that is. It does not matter if gays have the right marry when disabled people, no matter their sexuality or gender, are discouraged from getting married because they are afraid of losing aid and having to depend solely on their spouse, leading to potential financial strain. It does not matter if a business cannot discriminate against me simply because of my sexuality if I am unable to physically enter or maneuver around the store/building/what have you due to lack of accessibility. The LGBTQ community not-so-jokingly refers to July as "Gay Wrath Month", and then when we say "Ummm, that's cute and all, but July is actually about uplifting the disabled", suddenly...the noise stops. People weren't replacing their gay pride posts with posts about disability. They chose to avoid the topic completely. In this fandom, people are quick to call out homophobia/biphobia because we all know it when we see or hear it, right? We all know what terms and phrases are red flags, what behaviors to take note of. But ableism? Pfft, that's not a real problem. Nobody MEANS to disrespect the disabled. They just don't know any better. Did y'all excuse Cocoa's foolishness? Or Ryan's? (Didn't think so.) Then why can you excuse ableism? Not just from an actress, but from your own 'friends'? 🤔 Inquiring minds would LOVE to know.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

A Pure Soul: Nearly Taken (Yandere!Wanda Maximoff x ADD!autistic!reader)

*Not my GIF.

Summary: The day (y/n) comes back to the compound after being told all those nasty things takes a toll on their mental health and self-esteem. Unfortunately it gets to a point that Wanda hoped it would NEVER reach.

Request?: Still none.

Word Count: 3,456

Warnings: Ableism, eugenics mention, r-word slur, attempted suicide, attempted overdose, hurt and comfort.

Notes: This is a sort of “in-between scene” from “A Pure Soul.” The rate of suicide is 3 times higher in autistic people because of the world’s lack of understanding and willingness to accommodate us. Plus being told the world would be better off without you, along with people looking for ways to make sure we’re not born....that’s gonna take a toll. So it makes sense for these feelings to emerge.

=============================================

You know that the world isn’t very kind to the disabled.

You know that the world wishes people like you wouldn’t exist.

But that doesn’t make what happened hurt any less.

You were out shopping when you ran into your best friend from high school. Except....this friend wasn’t the same as you knew them. No, instead they showed you their true colors.

“Oh hey, (y/n),” they said.

Tone has never been your specialty.

“Hey!” you exclaimed happily as you were looking through the books at your local bookstore. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are you?”

“Better. How’s the treatment coming along?”

This confused you.

“Treatment?”

They nodded.

“For that disease you call autism.”

This struck a chord, and it struck HARD. How could they say something like that?!

“D-disease?!”

They smirked.

“I mean, it just makes us humans lives harder to be around your kind.”

What?!

“What the hell’s gotten into you?!” you exclaimed. “I thought you were my best friend!”

“Oh?”

They pretended to wrack their brain.

“Oh! Yeah, I was such a great actor in that part. I should get an Oscar. Here’s the tea; I lost a bet and had to be your best friend for those four hellish years. I can’t believe they wanted me to suffer that much.”

Your heart began to crack. It was all....an act?

“You took my high school years away from me, made me miserable. I could’ve won prom royalty, but no one voted for me because I associated myself with your species. I’m glad you’re out of my life now. You’re nothing but a burden and the world would be so much better off without you. Why not do us that favor?”

Your heart shattered. You were so plagued with shock that you didn’t notice them push you to the ground and spit on you before walking away with a satisfied chuckle. For the next few minutes, you couldn’t say or do anything. You were just frozen to the spot, their words bouncing around your head.

Finally you were able to feel both the physical and emotional pain. Pursing your lips, you got up, kept your head down, and quickly left the bookstore, trying not to let the tears fall.

===============================================

In the elevator, heading up to your floor, you can barely form a new thought. All you can think of is that hurtful interaction. 

Burden, your kind, your species, disease....

It all hurt. 

And the worst part is that you can’t help but think that they’re right.

But your thoughts are jolted by the elevator bell. As usual you find the Avengers hanging out in the lounge. Nat and Clint are chatting with Wanda. Tony and Peter are working on homework. You can barely see what the others are doing. 

Almost instantly, Wanda’s eye falls on you. She has a smile on her face, but it falls when she sees you, as she instantly knows that something is wrong. 

“(Y/N)!” she whispers worried.

She rushes over and gives you a gentle hug, but you practically squeeze the life out of her. The other Avengers also come to your aid. 

“What happened?” Wanda asks you.

You gulp as she and Nat lead you to the couch.

“I....” you begin as you sit down. “I was out shopping....and I ran into my best friend from high school....”

You tell them the entire interaction. Shocked looks are nearly all around by the end.

“That’s seriously messed up,” Nat says in a mix of disgust and anger.

The others nod in agreement, except for Wanda. Instead she begins to tear up. 

“My sweet angel,” she weeps softly as she hugs you closer and pets your head. “Oh, my sweet, sweet angel. None of what they said is true, not one bit of it. You’re an absolute joy to have around and you’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. You bring so much to the Avengers and to our lives. Autism is not a disease. It’s a part of who you are, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“Wanda’s right,” Peter nods. “You’re wonderful, (y/n). You’re one of the best friends I could ever ask for.”

“And you bring a lot of new perspectives,” Nat adds. “You came into our lives when we needed you the most, especially Wanda.”

They all take turns giving you words of comfort and encouragement as well as letting you cry. Wanda stays the closest to you, to no one��s surprise, hugging you tightly. Her embrace is exactly what you need right now; so warm and loving. 

Tony, though not the most emotional person, does feel sympathetic and even angered at the person who said that to you; even though you’re on the opposite side of the Accords, he decides to get your favorite food for dinner. It’s not the greatest gesture of sympathy, but it’s definitely something. After that, you take a nice, warm shower and get into some fresh, soft pajamas. Wanda’s waiting for you in your bedroom, and surprises you with some soft socks that match your pajamas.

“I removed the fabric tags too,” she tells you.

Your heart melts a bit more for her. How someone as kind, attentive, and loving as her could ever be considered a terrible person is beyond you. You let her put them on your feet and they feel amazing. You wriggle your toes in them, smiling. 

“You like them?” she asks you.

“I love them,” you giggle before turning to Wanda. “And I love you.”

She smiles and gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“I love you too, my angel.”

The two of you spend the rest of the night together, cuddling up close with one another, watching sitcoms, singing quietly. You doze off in her arms.....

But that doesn’t mean it’s over.....

==============================================

You’re not someone who easily forgets how things make you feel, and what that person said still makes you feel like shit. Now whenever you go out, you’re worried that you’re going to run into them. You keep your guard up and walk as quickly as you can. Every outing feels like a fight for survival, but you try to stay strong so that you don’t bother the others. You try to keep a smile on your face. You need to be strong.....

.....But even the strong reach their limits.

It’s a little after you found out they became catatonic. You’re at a coffee shop, nearly empty, when someone else walks in. It’s a friend of that person. You keep your head low as they place their order; four cups of black coffee, extra hot. Your anxiety is increasing, but you don’t want this person to think you’re weak. You keep your back to them, hearing the door open again. 

The other person is called for their order. Maybe you can finally get out of here.

The next thing you know, you feel something steaming hot being poured down the back of your shirt, on your head, thrown in your face, (which you luckily cover most of with your arms) and splattered on your arms and legs. Standing up, you cry out in pain as you whirl around to see 4 people from high school, among them the friend of your former best friend.

“It’s your fault my best friend can’t function, you retard!” the friend snaps as they push you around roughly.

“No one wants you on this planet,” spits another.

“You’re nothing but a parasite!”

“You just weigh people down!”

“You’re an embarrassment to society!”

“Why don’t you just end this?”

“It’ll be better that way!”

“Your birth was a mistake!”

By this time, you’re hardly a thread’s width away from a meltdown and you look at the cashier for help, but nothing. You try to take out your phone to call for help, but you end up slipping on the coffee, falling to the ground hard and in an odd position, hearing a crack. Pain surges through your body as you look at your arms; burn marks are beginning to form.

After they kick at you for a bit and spit on you, they leave. You look up at the cashier. 

“Why....didn’t you help?” you whimper with a whistle in your voice.

No answer. 

They don’t help you up either. Crawling to the door, you use a nearby booth to bring yourself back up to your feet. Suddenly you feel an intense surge of pain in your left leg, and not just from the burns. You look to see that it’s swollen and turning reddish-purple. You reach into your coat and get out your phone only to discover that it’s dead. Wanda’s going to be worried sick....you hate making her worry, and she’s been worried sick these last few weeks to the point where it’s taking a toll on her; so on the way back, you decide to take one worry out of her life for good.

======================

It’s dark when you get back to the compound. And lucky for you, the elevator is closed for repairs. You limp up the stairs, finally reaching the compound. As quiet as a dust mite, you open the door, biting down on your lips to keep yourself from crying out in pain; unfortunately, your lips took some burn damage as well. Limping to the bathroom, you shut and lock the door. You search the medicine cabinet and find some pills.

“This should do the trick,” you whisper.

You try to quietly position yourself on the floor so that you won’t hit your head. You want to be able to pass as peacefully as possible. But something gives in your left leg and you fall, letting out a loud cry of agony. Realizing your mistake, you quickly fiddle with the lid of the bottle as you hear footsteps rush in. You finally get the lid open and begin to pour out the whole bottle into your hand, hoping to get it in in time--

Click!

The lock turns scarlet, clicks, and the door swings opens. 

“(Y/N)!”

A terrified Wanda immediately snatches the pills and bottle from you with her powers. She makes them disappear before heading to your side, tears already flowing from her eyes.

“My sweet angel.....” she squeaks as she kneels in front of you gently taking ahold of your hands. “I didn’t realize you were feeling this terrible. I’m so sorry things have reached this point.”

You look away guiltily. 

“No, I’m sorry....it’s my fault. I never said....anything. You....you’ve been so stressed these past few weeks....all of you. I didn’t want to make it worse on you, so....I just kept quiet.”

Wanda shakes her head.

“You have nothing to apologize for, (y/n). It can be scary, but there’s no shame in reaching out. We all need help sometimes.”

Other footsteps rush in.

“What happened?” Nat asks. “Did (y/n)---?”

“Almost,” Wanda gulps. “We need to get them to the emergency room.”

“I’m fine,” you lie.

“Are you fine?” Wanda asks.

You realize that it’s pointless to lie, and you shake your head.

“No, I’m not....”

“Then we need to take you to the emergency room.....”

That’s when she sees the burns and leg.

“Especially to treat these.....what happened?”

As they carry you to the car, you tell them about the run-in at the coffee shop, them pouring the hot coffee on you, how they were telling you all of these things, how the cashier did nothing to help, how you heard that crack. Both of them are disgusted and horrified at those monsters.

“I don’t care what they say,” Nat tells you as they get you inside. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

“I am too,” Wanda agrees as she gets in the front seat. “We’re here for you.”

“But.....my autism.....”

Wanda gently takes ahold of your fingers, careful to avoid the burns.

“My angel.....I can only imagine how isolating it feels to be in a world that’s not made for you, but your autism is part of who you are. It’s what makes you unique. If the world refuses to accommodate for people like you on their own, we’ll help them to see that they need to, and we’ll help advocate with you.”

Nat nods as she starts the car up and the three of you head for the ER.

“I....I feel selfish worrying you like this and even attempting....I just thought....you’ve been so stressed and I thought it’d be better to take one worry out of your life.”

“You have nothing to feel selfish about,” Wanda assures you. “What you did wasn’t selfish. You’re in pain, and wanting to do something to stop that pain isn’t selfish. But there are better ways to deal with the pain, and I want to help you with those. (Y/N), I can say with 100% certainty that I’m glad to have you in my life, through the good and the bad.”

Tears flow down your face as the three of you silently drive to the ER.

=============================================

It takes several hours for you to be treated, along with a few more hours of consultation for your mental health. Some of the burns are treated through surgery, so you have to stay for a little over a week to make sure you recover and stabilize. Your leg is put in a cast, and Wanda comes to visit you everyday. You feel much better with her and Nat.

A psychologist comes in to discuss a safety plan with you. You decided to ask Wanda if she’d come and discuss it with them. She said yes and Nat also decided to help. You all work out what works in terms of coping mechanisms, people you can talk to, calming techniques, etc,. The psychologist also recommends regular counseling. Wanda asks if there are any remote options for counseling, as it’s going to be difficult for you to get there with your leg, (Also, she’s a little worried that the therapist might try to take you away from her, but she does show concern for your leg) and to her relief, there is. 

You’re discharged after about a week, but you’re not to be left alone for a few days to another week or two, just to be sure. Well, it’s more of Wanda’s recommendation than psychologist’s orders, but the psychologist also thinks that that could be a good idea. You’re not really complaining; it’s more time to spend with Wanda. And she’s certainly not complaining either.

For that time, especially, she makes sure you know that you’re loved, wanted, valued. She practically dotes on you; as if she hadn’t been doting on you before, she’s especially pampering you now. The other Avengers also get the 411, and decide to help. If you need pain or sleep medications, one of them brings the proper dose to you. They take turns spending time with you and getting to know you more. If they need to go out on a mission, Wanda volunteers to stay with you, but if she’s absolutely needed there, she entrusts your care to Vision, a robot who’s exceptionally caring. You and Wanda regularly discuss possibly adding him to the relationship, but you’re not sure if she’s being serious or not. 

On one night, Wanda’s caring for you. After applying the prescribed cream on your burns, she helps you find an oversized t-shirt to wear as PJs. 

“This one’s softer than the others,” you note.

“I went looking for a shirt with a softer material than normal,” she tells you as she prepares a small dose of melatonin for you, one that you’ve been taking to combat the nightmares of those events in the hospital. “I know how much it tends to make you feel discomforted if there is one. I also made sure it was a tagless shirt.”

You smile and sigh.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve an angel like you, Wanda,” you tell her.

Hearing this she smiles and blushes.

“If anyone’s the angel, it’s you,” she says as she gives you the melatonin. “You’ve been there for me even when I’m at my absolute worst.”

“So have you.”

You take the melatonin before Wanda brings you your toothbrush and toothpaste. You brush thoroughly before spitting it into a cup that Wanda disposes of. 

“You know, I could go to the bathroom and do this myself,” you tell her kindly.

“I know,” she sighs. “I’m just worried, my angel.”

“What if I wash my face tonight with the door open?” you suggest.

Wanda gives this a little thought and nods. 

“I can work with that.”

Using your crutches, you walk to the bathroom where you sit on a stool in front of the sink. You wash and dry your face before heading to the bed with Wanda helping you get tucked in.

“You’re seriously an angel,” you tell her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone outside of my family that’s been as concerned about my well-being as you.”

“And you’re too sweet,” she smiles again as she finishes getting ready for bed herself. “If anyone’s the undeserving, I don’t deserve you.”

“No, it’s the other way around,” you say.

“No, I’m certain I’m right.”

You giggle.

“Wanda, if we try to prove one right over the other, we’ll be going at this all night.”

She smiles as she goes over to the other side of the bed. 

“Well, I know you’re an angel,” she tells you as she gets under the covers. “You came to me in a dark time, and you shone a beam of sunlight through the shadow.”

The two of you look at each other as the fairy lights hang above you. Of course you’re looking at the bridge of her nose, but you can’t help but glance up at her eyes a few times; one time they catch you, and they are stunning. They’re like emeralds to you; vivid, entrancing, mystical. Just a single glance, and you know there’s so much to know about, so much to discover, and you become lost in them. 

“I’m so proud of you, (y/n).”

Wanda’s gentle voice echoes against your eardrums and dances around your mind, soothing you into drifting even more. But then she boops you on the nose, making it twitch like a bunny’s and snapping you out of your trance.

“Huh?” you ask, looking lost.

Wanda giggles.

“You are too cute,” she tells you. “I was saying that I’m so proud of you for pushing through all of this. It’s not the easiest thing to do, and.....well.....I’m glad you’re still alive, my sweet little sunbeam.”

You blush upon hearing this and turn away, but Wanda gently redirects your face forward.

“There’s no need to hide, my angel. I want to see your lovely face.”

At that moment, you begin to feel drowsy and bring yourself closer to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough, Wanda,” you sigh.

She brings you in closer and you melt into her embrace.

“Being with you, and you being safe and happy and alive.....that’s the only thank you I need.”

Leaning in, she kisses you gently on your forehead and you shyly return one on her cheek. 

“Goodnight, my angel,” she tells you as she brushes a strand of hair out of your way.

“Wait,” you say as she turns to switch the lights off. “Will....will you sing me those lullabies again? Please?”

“Of course,” she smiles. 

Turning the lights off, she returns to embrace you and softly sings the Sokovian lullabies her parents used to sing to her. As you drift off to sleep, you don’t know what’s going on in her mind. What’s going on with her mind? Her master plan, of course. Tonight’s the night she will finish what she started. Those monsters at the coffee shop messed with the wrong person. For the past few nights, she’s been paying them visits, doing the same things she did with your former best friend, and sending subconscious suggestions for them to gather in one place, thinking they’d be safer together. And now they have.

Tonight she’s going to make sure their minds are gone for good, but not before making them feel the pain and agony she imagines you felt. Her anger with them is in full throttle, so it’s going to be even worse for them. Telekinesis, fear projection, hypnosis, inducing extreme fear, she’ll do whatever she has to. Wanda will not leave until they’re nothing more than hollow husks, shadows of their former selves. With how they’d been acting on those nights, and how much Wanda has done so far, it won’t take too long. 

Because no one-and she means no one-gets away with hurting her precious angel.......ever.

[ijustwant2write]

‘Make me pretty doll’-Bucky Barnes x Reader

(GIF credit to @violet-blur​)

Tags: @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi love! Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader writing? One where his favorite thing in the world is asking his partner to play with his hair at the end of a hard day because his love language is physical touch. I honestly just imagine him sitting down next to the reader, leaning his head down and saying something like “make me pretty, doll”’

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, mentions of Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mentions of violence/injury/ blood, LOTS AND LOTS OF FLUFF

                                         *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bucky groaned as he sat up from the hospital bed, his hand gently holding onto the right side of his lower torso where he had been grazed during a mission. Dr Cho's technology was baffling to him. He had new skin where it had been previously torn off, bleeding profusely before he came back. There had been an ambush, the people they were tracking down somehow knew they were coming, and were able to disable all communications between them. Although they managed to complete the job, it was a messy one.

"Bucky," Steve said as he entered the room,"hey, you alright?"

"Good as new." Bucky chuckled, wincing as he put his t-shirt back on."I don't question this new technology anymore, I just let it do what it does best."

"Me neither, I don't ask for explanations either." Steve smiled, knowing his friend would be alright."Can't believe how south that mission went."

"Nothing we couldn't handle."

"Hey man," Sam appeared in the doorway,"you alright?"

Bucky nodded."Yep, becoming more bionic by the second."

Sam smiled at that."You heading back to your place?"

"Yeah."  

"Need a ride? I'll be passing by on my way home."

"Thanks."

"Have you told (Y/N) about all of this?" Steve added.

"No, not yet. I'll tell her once I'm back."

His friends didn't know how (Y/N) usually reacted to this kind of thing. It was obvious that she would be worried about the man she loved. There had been bigger scraps than this last mission, however, Bucky had told her that this wouldn't be a tough job, the most he would get out of it was a few bruises. But Bucky knew she wouldn't be mad at him as soon as he explained. She would make sure he was fine, check his injuries, then everything was back to normal, they would forget about the entire thing.

The car ride wasn't quick enough for Bucky's liking. Sam was sticking to the speed limits, but Bucky wished they were a bit higher, he would be home sooner. He wanted to be with his girl. He was tired, hurt and overworked. Although the mission was (supposed to be) easy, it was out of the blue, meaning Bucky was robbed of time with (Y/N), which infuriated him. He hated the look on her face whenever he told her that he had to suddenly leave. She tried to hide her disappointment every time, (Y/N) never wanted Bucky to feel guilty, though that pained him even more. She sacrificed so much for him.

Once Sam had driven off, Bucky rushed inside, not even fumbling with the lock. He called out for her, repeating himself as he looked through the rooms.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm here," (Y/N) appeared, shocked by Bucky's tone of voice, he sounded panicked,"are you OK? Did something happen on the mission?"

Bucky let out a relieved sigh as he smiled, calming down and slowly approaching her. He slipped his arms around her, embracing her tightly, his head in the crook of her neck.

"Bucky?" she whispered, hugging him back."Are you alright?"

"Yeah doll." Bucky finally said after another minute of silence."Just happy to be back with you."

Although (Y/N) didn't want to end their hug (she loved being in his arms), she needed to properly check her boyfriend. Pulling away, she didn't miss Bucky squeezing her slightly, indicating that he didn't want her to let go. (Y/N) smiled as she took Bucky's face in her hands, trying to subtly scan over his face and body for injuries.

"How did it go today?" she asked.

"Not great. We got ambushed. But everyone is fine."

Bucky took one of her hands in his, guiding them upstairs. (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He had never been so quiet after a mission. Usually he would tell her vague details, how everyone was and then ask her about her day. She wasn't saying she wanted attention, it was just different. She stayed silent as they walked into their room, turning to face Bucky. He just smiled softly down at her, still amazed by how beautiful she was. (Y/N) yelped in surprise as Bucky scooped her into his arms giggling as he walked towards the bed. He gently threw her onto it, crawling on after her. (Y/N) was still laughing but just as perplexed; he wasn't in the mood was he?

Everything clicked into place as Bucky laid on top of her, his head resting on her chest, legs tangled together. She hummed a in amusement as he snuggled into her.

"That bad, hm?" she started."Are you hurt?"

"Got some skin tear away as someone threw me across the floor. But I'm good now, there's this machine Dr Cho uses to...create new skin, to put it simply." Bucky propped himself on his elbow, lifting his t-shirt to show her."See, it's like nothing changed."

(Y/N) reached down, tenderly stroking her fingers across the area. She sighed."It is amazing."

"What's wrong?"

(Y/N) covered up her concerns with a smile."Nothing, just the usual worry for my superhero boyfriend."

Bucky looked into her eyes, sensing her lie. He simply pecked her on the lips, laying back down on her body."I'll always come back to you. We've had this conversation."

"I know."

(Y/N) didn't want to get into that topic again, neither did Bucky. There were too many 'what ifs' they had come up with. The scenarios they had spoke about were horrible, but it was necessary to talk about it, they had to have plans. Bucky wasn't in a normal job, he wasn't normal himself; he was technically over 100 years old, had a metal arm that was his weapon, had been brainwashed then saved and fought aliens, secret organisations and super villains every other day. They tried to not bring any of this up again. The couple knew it was important to look on that side of things, but they also loved in the moment.

Bucky sighed in content as (Y/N) started running her fingers through his hair. All he wanted was to relax, anyone could see that. His eyes closed as he relished in the sensation, lightly squeezing (Y/N)'a hip every now and then to let her know he was awake.

"Your hair is getting long again. Do you ever think you'll cut it short, like in those pictures you showed me?" (Y/N) pondered.

"If I can come back home to this, I'm never cutting my hair again." Bucky mumbled.

"You're so sweet. But isn't it getting in the way?"

"Think I should braid it? Like Thor?"

"Do you even know how to?"

"Do you think I have ever braided hair in my life?"

(Y/N) giggled."I don't know, you're an interesting character to say the least."

Bucky chuckled too, until he felt (Y/N)'s hand change motions."What are you doing?"

"Braiding your hair."

Bucky grinned."Make me pretty doll."

(Y/N) didn't answer, she was too focused. She had gone with a French plait, hoping there would be enough hair left to put into a man bun. It wouldn't be too tight, she wanted it to be comfortable for him, even if he took it out after five minutes.

"How do you put up with all this?" Bucky said after a while.

"Hm?" (Y/N) was still concentrating.

"Not knowing what state I'll be in when I come home from a mission. Being by yourself for weeks because I'm away. Having a boyfriend who is actually an old man-"

"You've already asked about this-"

"I'm asking again. You're amazing. I never thought I would find someone who would fit in with this lifestyle. Who would be OK with who I am, what I've done."

"I love you Bucky. I am in love with you. Who you were in the past is exactly that, in the past. It wasn't even you. I've fallen in love with a man who has gone through so much pain, but always puts my needs first. You've held me on days where I've cried over a bad day at work, which is nothing compared to yours. You immediately sprung to my rescue when I had that burglary four months into our relationship. You're the real Bucky now. The real you is coming out of its timid shadow and it's amazing how much you've grown. Steve told me a lot about you once we were stable, he wanted to make sure I was in it for the long run."

"And are you?"

"Unfortunately, you are very much stuck with me."

"How will I go on? Oh, I know, very happily."

"So cheesy."

"I thought I was sweet."

They laughed together. (Y/N) glanced at the bedside table, happy when she saw a lone hair band. Now finished with the plait, (Y/N) tilted Bucky's head so she could tie up what was left. When he laid his head back down, (Y/N) admired her work and the face of her boyfriend, kissing the top of his head.

"My best creation yet." she said.

"Do I look pretty?" Bucky joked.

"When do you not?"

"You've picked up your smooth talk from me you know."

"The student has become the master." she now started rubbing his back, her other hand stroking his cheek, along the stubble."You think you'll be alright? After your scrap?"

"Thought we weren't going to talk about it?"

"Just making sure."

"I'll be fine. A good night's sleep will sort me. But (Y/N)?"

"Hm?"

"Can you help me get to sleep tonight? This is so soothing."

"Anything for my soldier." 

[schmergo]

Weird obscure little rant here: There's this one particular conspiracy theory I've seen floating around the internet a lot lately that's a minor pet peeve of mine. There are a lot of more famous, major, and dangerous conspiracy theories going around right now, ones that are clearly anti-Semitic, anti-science, and doing genuine measurable danger to families and communities across the countries. But those have been extensively covered and analyzed by way more knowledgeable people than me (those articles are very much worth reading), and I don't think there's anything new I can bring up there.

The one I'm talking about is just skirting mainstream discourse and starting to become more widely known. It's the Missing411 'conspiracy.' The reason I put 'conspiracy' in quotes is that this isn't a traditional conspiracy theory with a clear bogeyman or scapegoat like some of the others. A traditional conspiracy theory usually goes something like, "[Group of people] are secretly [doing bad thing] so that they can [accomplish sinister goal]. but they control the [powerful organization], so nobody knows about it!" 

By contrast, Missing411 is super vague. It basically boils down to, "Mysterious disappearances are taking place throughout America's national parks and protected wilderness lands, and they fit a pattern!" There are hints among fans of this theory that the National Park Service knows more than they're letting on, but the extent of their 'involvement' doesn't seem really central here. The 'theory' doesn't come right out and explain any root cause for this pattern of events, just drawing attention to the pattern itself, though, once again, there are hints as to a deeper meaning. 

Here's the thing: "Missing411" is the brainchild of one guy named David Paulides who wrote a bunch of expensive self-published books compiling these cases. He's an ex-police officer (either retired or fired, depending on who you ask) who also happened to be super invested in Bigfoot hunting before he started with "Missing411," and, indeed, a lot of Missing411 stories do seem to point toward something... sasquatchy without ever coming right out and saying it. The other thing is that Paulides is the only one who can officially label a case a Missing411 case. A lot of people on the internet will say, "Oh, this sounds like Missing411," but Paulides is the one authority on which cases count and which don't.

Turns out a lot of 'missing person' cases in the national parks don't fit these criteria, and others that Paulides claim do are stretches. The criteria themselves are loose, and a missing person doesn't need to fit all or even most of them to be considered a Missing411 case. Missing411 cases include people who were never found, people who were found dead, and people who were recovered safely. Common factors in these 'patterns' include such vague terms as berries or berry bushes playing a role, being found near or in bodies of water, bad weather shortly after the disappearance, someone who is sick or disabled going missing, and someone being with a group at first but becoming separated from them after a surprisingly short period of time. And, of course, the fact that these disappearances take place in National parks and protected wildernesses.

Humans naturally seek and recognize patterns and make connections, but are categorizing cases in a way like this really helpful? I've seen people on the internet gleefully jump to this explanation whenever someone goes missing in a national park. Comments of "Google Missing411!" are common on news articles about this topic. I honestly think it's insensitive to the family members of the missing people who are looking for answers-- and misleading to those participating in the investigations. Currently, there's an incident going on in which a young couple was traveling cross-country in a van and visiting many National Parks. The man returned home with the van but without the woman, who hasn't been heard from in a few weeks, and isn't talking about what happened. Believe it or not, I've seen internet posters comment, "MISSING411!!!!" in response to this tragic story. A few months ago, a young man disappeared in Shenandoah National Park and his body was later recovered. I followed the case closely and the posts by Shenandoah National Park were full of "MISSING411!!!!" comments, despite the fact that it was very clear what led up to the disappearance: according to family members, a new medication caused psychosis and led to him driving in his pajamas from his home to Shenandoah (his family followed him there), crashing his car, and running into the woods, unprepared to deal with wilderness and not in good mental health. 

Like I said, I think this gleeful pattern-recognition is a little distasteful, but more than that, I think Missing411's eagerness to spot sinister causes behind disappearances in the wild is problematic for another reason: I think the average American has a difficult time grasping the concept of 'wilderness' and its dangers. We're used to everything being safe and convenient for us in our towns and, because national parks are popular tourist destinations, it's easy to forget that there are many dangers that exist in wild public lands. 

Inexperienced hikers often misjudge their skills and set off on trails too challenging for them and with inadequate water and supplies. Even experienced hikers can easily get lost or turned around-- and cell phone signals are usually nonexistent in national parks. Falls from cliffs, ledges, and waterfalls (mossy rocks near waterfalls are often lethally slippery) can mean injured people end up in inaccessible areas where they're not visible from the trail. A sudden health emergency like a heart attack, stroke, or even a broken leg can occur during vigorous physical activity. Abrupt changes in weather can change a pleasant stroll into deadly freezing temperatures in the blink of an eye. Dangerous wild animals like bears do live in the national parks. Although national parks are popular tourist destinations, these dangers are very, very real and can happen to anyone, and the parks themselves emphasize the importance of being prepared when entering wild areas.

On a darker note, remote hikes and camping trips in national parks are often a convenient way for people to cover up foul play (a few of the high profile Missing411 cases seem to fit this narrative). And, like the young man who disappeared in Shenandoah, many people who disappear in the wilderness alone are mentally unwell and, in many cases, disappearing on purpose. (National parks are sadly a popular place for people to take their own lives.) 

Some of the common Missing411 traits, like people being found without clothes on, could be explained by foul play but, more likely, it's a phenomenon called 'paradoxical undressing' that happens when you have hypothermia to the degree that you actually feel warm. Family members will talk about how a missing person is an experienced outdoorsman and unlikely to go missing, but 60 years of experience in the woods also comes with the health limitations of advanced age-- the 'mysterious' disappearance of a partially-sighted man with notable mobility issues might not be a huge mystery. Others, like the presence of berry bushes and bodies of water, points to basic survival instincts. Why so many disappearances in national parks? Well, it's a lot harder to be found in dense wilderness than in, say, an Arby's parking lot.

I've watched two Missing411 documentaries, which are easy to find on mainstream streaming services, and, while many of the cases covered are truly strange, some seem easily explainable by Occam's razor, and the selection of why some cases are included and others aren't seems bizarre to me. Some don't even involve a disappearance at all but hearing or seeing strange things in the woods. Some don't involve national parks or public lands. There are very vague hints throughout that 'Bigfoot type creatures seem to exist in the woods and use outer space or interdimensional technology to hide themselves from people or spirit people away, and the government might know about it' but nothing more than vague hints.

 Like I mentioned, some of the cases they profiled point toward foul play. The most prominent case featured in the original Missing411 documentary was about a little boy named Deorr Kunz Jr. who disappeared on a camping trip with his family... but there's also no proof that he actually was on that camping trip with his family... and the family's stories have some discrepancies... and even if it really was a disappearance from the campsite, the stories are that the grandfather thought he was with the parents and the parents thought he was with the grandfather.

 Life is often boring and repetitive and it's totally normal to use stories to make ordinary life more interesting and exciting, but the almost... gamified way that I've seen internet dwellers react to real-life stories of heartbreaking disappearances and deaths in dangerous and remote locations is kind of disturbing, and similar to the over-the-top fanciful theorizing I've seen from other, more insidious conspiracy theories. The idea that there's a secret 'other world' being hidden from us behind the curtain of society is enticing, but it can lead down paths as confusing and dangerous as the ones that real travelers get lost on in the wilderness.

[veliseraptor]

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him. 

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers. 

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

[t4tlawlight]

Occam's razor is the principle that, of two explanations that account for all the facts, the simpler one is more likely to be correct.

this post is going to cover traits specific to the manga and the television drama, since those are the best adaptations to showcase L’s autism. THIS POST is required reading before you read anything i’m about to type, because it explains what kind of character niche L falls into--an unintentionally autistic coded character. i’ll talk more about that at the end.

i’m going to talk about manga L first, since he’s the original version after all. i’m going to go in order of physical traits, to behavioral, to his character writing. also, tumblr eats posts that have outside links, so i’m going to have my non-tumblr sources in a separate post, here.

anyways, more under the cut!

MANGA/ANIME:

sitting with his legs up and spine bent / sitting on the floor

this is such a big one and its extremely common in ppl with autism. sitting in chairs normally is uncomfortable to outright painful w many ppl with these disorders, myself included. L sitting like that (which, to recall, is a blatant homage to sherlock holmes, another character that is so blatantly autistic coded you can find absolutely ridiculous amounts of writing on the topic) and being like "I HAVE TO SIT LIKE THIS TO THINK PROPERLY" is so autistic. like sitting in a certain way to give you specific sensory stimulus/avoid distracting discomfort and pain is a thing. i found this post (1) written by an autistic person on the topic of sitting in chairs being uncomfortable, and it says as much:

“I suspect that seating discomfort is common in autism (though by no means limited to autistic people). Many of us, particularly as children, benefit greatly from chairs designed to be non-stationary: rocking chairs, “fidget” chairs, and so forth. These can improve focus, compensate for proprioceptive hypo-sensitivity, and alleviate restlessness. In short, many “attention issues” can be fixed simply by providing a little motion for the person sitting. Small change, huge results. That's what accommodations do at their best. They make (often minor) adjustments that have profound impacts.”

so when L says that sitting the way he does, for a specific sensory experience, improves his ability to think, it’s perfectly in line with this idea. Also it’s a good pressure stim.

standing with a slouch / shifting his weight around

to begin: yes! it’s very common for autistic people to stand or walk oddly for a number of different reasons, from physical comorbidity to other issues such as dyspraxia (see: movie L). From an article by YAI (2), an I/DD (intellectual and/or developmental disabilities) community program:

“Kyphosis (a curved spine), collapsed chest, dropped shoulders and even scoliosis are observed in many of our patients. These myriad of postural issues may result from reduced strength, decreased biomechanical stability, or from a sensory impairment, such as apraxia. 

Depending on the scene, L has mild to severe kyphosis which is very common in autistic individuals. Other things mentioned in that article if you want to click on it is instability in standing, where you sort of shift your weight around a lot between your  feet or rest all of your weight on one foot, which L is literally doing the first time we see all of him.

speaking with a monotone voice.

i obviously can’t show a picture for this one and it honestly depends on the voice actor you find for L, but in the anime in particular L has a very flat tone. a lot of this is bc he has a dry sense of humor but. just know that it’s very common for autistic people to have a flat affect (or go the other way into being too loud/emotive).

his eating habits. 

a lot (a LOT) of autistic ppl myself included can only eat certain kinds of food for texture and flavor reasons. HOWEVER there’s a term in the autism community called “samefoods” which is really well put by tumblr users candidlyautistic and autism-asks: 

“Samefoods or samefooding is a community word to describe the autistic trait of eating the same food over, and over and over . . . It is part sensory, part routine driven in most cases. A lot of times we samefood because we need that particular mouthfeel / texture / taste, and a lot of times even after that need passes, it turns into a need for routine until you actively dislike that food again.”

“Samefooding on the other hand is closer to a special interest. When I have a samefood (chocolate ice cream, currently), I really, really want that food. I could eat that food endlessly and not get tired of it. I will get upset if I’m not able to have the food in a day. For me, it usually is kind of routine based as well. For instance, with my current samefood, I have some in the evenings and it’s become part of how I wind down from my day.”

we don’t know exactly why L specifically desires sweet food or if he considers it part of his routine, but what we do know is that he really wants to eat sweet food and avoids eating anything other than sweet food, so it could either be that he’s a picky eater and can’t handle savory or he’s samefooding on sweets!

wearing the same clothes

L wears the same clothes every single day. It’s also worth noting that what he does wear is baggy, too-big clothing, the kind that wouldn’t be tight and uncomfortable. once again, sensory issues are a huge thing for autistic individuals. one of my favorite aspects is that in no adaptation does he wear socks. even L wears shoes, he wears them like slippers, not putting them on all the way. people comment that he seems like he’s poor, but we know for a fact that he’s very rich and that wearing these clothes is a personal choice he made.

not caring for himself/outsourcing his self-care

i don’t think one day is exactly canon, rather it’s an exaggeration of what might actually happen--i.e. L doesn’t have a huge closet full of the same outfit, but he does have several versions of the same outfit on rotation; L doesn’t use a human washing machine, but Watari might help him/encourage him to bathe regularly. One Day is a parody comic, but it was made by the creators for a reason and that reason is that L pretty obviously relies on a caretaker (Watari) for his personal needs. Watari, in the manga proper, cooks and cleans and does most things for L. we’ll come back to this topic when we get to the drama though.

doing stimming behaviors

if you don’t know what stimming is, it refers to self-stimulating behaviors, usually involving repetitive movements or sounds. everyone stims to some extent, but in autism it tends to be more obvious, go on for longer, and sometimes be more disruptive to others. it’s often used to help deal with sensory overload, or used to express feelings--think of an autistic person being happy and flapping their hands in the air.

there are a LOT of instances of L displaying stimming behavior, from stacking his food or things on his desk, to spinning in his chair, to biting his fingers/using them to press on his lips, to wriggling and tapping his toes. here are some specific instances:

there are a lot more. i’ll talk about more when we get to dramaverse, but if you rewatch/reread death note it’s definitely worth noting whenever L does something like this!

detective work as a special interest

ok, first and foremost i want to establish what a special interest is. Tumblr user cartoon has my favorite explanation of what a special interest is that i’ve seen to date: 

“To have a deep, intense, passionate and incredibly focused / narrowed interest in a certain area of study, subject, topic or thing - to the exclusion of other interests. This interest is something that exists for the long-term, most often lasting for multiple months, years, or even you’re entire life “

L says that he only does detective work because it’s a hobby, and he finds it entertaining. We’ve also seen that he’s been at it for quite some time--if you take side content (the wammy’s house comic, LABB) seriously, then he’s been at it since childhood, with unwavering interest. it definitely comes across to me as L having a special interest in detective work, rather than it just being a normal hobby or a job for him, especially since he says it isn’t out of any moral obligation.

germaphobia

Germaphobia is very common for individuals with autism. a lot of the time it’s actually sensory issues associated with “dirty” things, and a lot of the time it’s because features of OCD are heavily comorbid with autism, including contamination OCD and such fears. regardless of the reason, though, L’s aversion to touching Bad Things is a very autistic behavior, and so is his resulting quirk that he tends to hold things in a very odd manner!

muted emotional expression

this is getting more into L’s character, but L tends to feel and express emotions in a very muted way. not to say he doesn’t have them, but for instance in the example above, L doesn’t have a solid grasp on what exactly he’s feeling. he thinks he might be acting irrationally and overemotionally because he logically should be afraid, but he isn’t sure, and none of these emotions present themselves visibly. 

i’ve also seen it said that Ukita’s death is another good example of his muted response to emotion--he tells Aizawa to stay rational and his voice doesn’t waver as he tells him as much, but he holds himself tightly. for someone with poor emotional competence, these physical signs of distress can be hard to read in oneself, but Aizawa (a man who is extremely in-tune with his emotions) can tell immediately.

high logic, low empathy

L is also a character who, like many autistic people, lacks a certain degree of empathy. it’s not that he doesn’t have any, but it’s limited enough--and he values logic over it enough--that he’s willing to make extreme decisions and take a “ends justify the means” approach (such as using people as bait.) in the example above, L takes a moment to work through what it must actually feel like, which rings as very autistic.

bluntness/not caring about social convention

there are so many examples of this i honestly could list them all day, but L is a character who is very to-the-point and doesn’t care about mincing his words. he can be outright rude to the people around him, especially if he considers them not worth basic courtesy. see: Matsuda. 

DRAMAVERSE

if you all knew me you should have known this section is inevitable. i’m not going to talk about every single adaptation because i do not have the time and the only other adaptation that is meaningful in that regard is the movieverse (i am fairly certain that movie L is dyspraxic) but on account of the fact that i don’t care about them i won’t subject you all to them here.

anyway, drama L shows much the same traits as animanga L above (they are, after all, technically the same character) but he displays them in different ways. 

he has a much more advanced degree of germaphobia, with Watari saying he’s sensitive to outside air and spraying everyone who enters his space with disinfectant, but not making them wash their hands or anything like that, so we can kind of tell that his issues are more rooted, again, in a fear of germs rather than any actual medical issue. he wants to feel as though he is clean, not necessarily actually be clean. this is very common in contamination OCD, which has a high comorbidity with autism. (my girlfriend has a very good headcanon post about drama L and OCD that isn’t so much analysis than just plain fun, but it’s worth a read!)

he stims, but he has a different array of stims than animanga L--he chews on his jelly pouch bottles, 

he tosses it between his hands, 

he kicks his feet,

and he bounces in his chair.

he still sits in an unconventional manner. he still samefoods, this time even more exclusively--he only eats Lucky Charge jelly pouches and nutritional bars. Watari onscreen puts his shirts on for him, as well as cooking, cleaning, and mending his clothes for him.

however, there are a few traits that are drama-exclusive that i think really add to an analysis of his autism!

social scripting

social scripting and echolalic scripting are both commonly described as “scripting,” but are very different! echolalic scripting is like echolalia, but echolalic scripting is the recitation of longer passages of dialogue from things the individual has heard before. but social scripting is when you memorize common conversations so you can rattle it off without worrying too much! this can be very handy, such as exchanging basic pleasantries or ordering food, but it can also backfire if someone responds in a way your script’s not set up for. you can find more information on the difference in this video (3). 

now, this relates to L in that there are two separate scenes where L says the same thing, rather inappropriately:

L: When I consider Kira’s personality, could it be that the strong-willed daughter is Kira? Or could that sweet-looking son of yours surprise us by proving to be him? You never know what humans are hiding beneath the surface... Soichiro: Enough. L: Sorry. It was just a joke.

-- Episode 2

L: Light-kun. Oh, I’m sorry... If I called you “Yagami-san,” it would be the same as what I call your father.  Light: That’s okay. Call me whatever you want. L: Then what about Kira? (silence) L: It's a joke.

-- Episode 4

one could say that L just has a terrible sense of humor--and, of course, having a poor grasp of humor is common with autistic individuals--but the fact that he says nearly the same thing as a defense twice makes me feel as though he has it rehearsed as a defense when people react poorly to things he’s said, which happens often.

mirroring and echolalia

echolalia was briefly covered in the previous example, but for those unaware, via wikipedia (4):

Echolalia is the unsolicited repetition of vocalizations made by another person (when repeated by the same person, it is called palilalia). In its profound form it is automatic and effortless.

mirroring, on the other hand, is explained as such, also via wikipedia (5):

Mirroring is the behavior in which one person unconsciously imitates the gesture, speech pattern, or attitude of another. Mirroring often occurs in social situations, particularly in the company of close friends or family. The concept often affects other individuals' notions about the individual that is exhibiting mirroring behaviors, which can lead to the individual building rapport with others.

both of these are very common in autism, and they’re exemplified while L’s character is established watching his favorite TV show, Owarai Paradise. On one occasion, he’s watching the show and this dialogue happens:

Hiroshi: Despite never telling her how I felt, I still got dumped. I am Hiroshi.  Watari: Who was this one again? L: He is Hiroshi. Hiroshi: I am Hiroshi. I am Hiroshi.

-- Episode 2

it’s important to note that in Japanese, “He is Hiroshi” and “I am Hiroshi” are said, at least in this instance, exactly the same, so L is echoing precisely what he’s heard.

On another occasion, L is again watching the show with a glass of wine (seemingly acquired simply to imitate the characters onscreen, as he never drinks it) and when the characters onscreen toast their glasses, L does the same, mirroring them. 

CONCLUSION

I linked a post at the very beginning of this analysis talking about how characters are unintentionally autistic coded, and it’s important to understand how this unintentional coding is different from a headcanon--i didn’t make up these traits. they aren’t something that only exist in my head that i ascribe to L for fun. 

i made this analysis both because i wanted to share L’s autistic coding in one cohesive place, because plenty of people have made lists before, but none that i could find that included so many examples with images and explanations--and i also made it because of the old ryuzaki persona “theory.” 

for those unaware, the ryuzaki persona headcanon suggests that L faked all of these traits in order to make people uncomfortable, to put them off-guard and better mask his identity. i’ve seen posts about people claiming that nobody could actually behave in these ways, that L would surely be unhappy and uncomfortable sitting like that, or eating like that, or engaging in any of these behaviors. I’ve seen some people outright say that L isn’t autistic, but his persona is--that is, he’s pretending to be autistic.

i named this essay “occam’s razor” because, to me, L being autistic is the simplest answer to account for all of these traits. claiming that an autistic coded character is faking it is ableist and it just doesn’t make sense with anything else we know about his character.

but if you want to know more about that, i recommend reading eyecicles’ first!L tag. it’s debunked it in more ways than i ever could.

anyways, in conclusion

[sholiofic]

Hi! Idk if you're taking prompts but one of your fic gave me this idea: Sam notices symptoms of touch-deprivation in Zemo and, Sam being Sam, he wants to help in any way he can. So he starts by touching Zemo whenever there's and opportunity and Zemo goes from being deeply weirded out to secretly looking forward to a familiar touch.

Also posted on AO3: Hands On.

This lovely prompt set off my latest prompt fest, so I hope you're still around, anon, and feel free to leave another!

---

The first time Sam touches Zemo—just a casual hand on his back, propelling him forward in Madripoor, nothing special about it—he feels Zemo flinch.

It's not that big of a thing. They were just shot at. Anyone's gonna be a little jumpy, even their resident hyper-controlled fur-collar-coat asshole.

But it's a recurring thing. Zemo doesn't really have a problem touching people, although he doesn't go out of his way to do it. But people touching him is something that he ... reacts to. Sometimes he jerks away, sometimes he just kind of goes with it with an almost hedonistic sort of pleasure, even if it's something like Walker handcuffing him to a piece of machinery.

Man's been in solitary for years, Sam thinks. And before that, his entire family died, and he built a whole new life around a single-minded revenge quest. It must be like going cold turkey on human touch, from a wife and son and the military camaraderie of squadmates and friends, to being completely and utterly isolated, physically and otherwise.

And he's already figured out that Zemo is kind of a people person, in certain ways. Not a complete extrovert. Zemo is a private person who plays his cards close to the vest. But you can't be around him for long without noticing that he tends to gravitate towards people. He likes an audience. He likes doing things for people, feeding them and that kind of thing. There's a sort of old-world noblesse oblige attitude about it that grates on Sam, but on some level, he's pretty sure it's genuine. There's no telling what Zemo was like in the old days, but these days, he likes to be around people.

Or, more simply: he's lonely.

He's lonely and touch-starved and there's no way Sam can not feel sympathy for that.

*

It's not until the second time they get Zemo out of prison—on a semi-official sort of work release this time, with a tracker that they all pretend Zemo can't disable anytime he wants to, and a second, secret one that they're pretty sure he doesn't know about, of Wakandan make—that Sam actually finds himself doing something about it. Or trying to. It's not like Zemo's touch-starvation hell isn't of his own making, but by this point, Sam actually kind of reluctantly likes the guy, and—well, he wants to.

So he does.

It's casual, just a touch here, a hand on the shoulder there; if nothing else, he can at least get Zemo past that startle reflex. Sam is a hands-on person anyway, and he's already done something kind of like this with Bucky. Very different circumstances, of course, and it was really more ... accidental, with Bucky. But maybe that's just proof of concept.

He's pretty sure that Zemo notices something, but it's hard to say what, exactly, Zemo thinks is going on. Initially, at least, Zemo seems to treat it as a slight infringement on his personal autonomy, sort of like a cat being petted without permission. When Sam puts a friendly hand on his arm or shoulder, Zemo glances down at it with a slightly affronted expression and then ignores it.

There is a very interesting week in which Sam gets the general impression that he and Zemo have somehow become involved in an escalating series of tiny acts of combative friendship: Zemo tries to feed them enough tea to float the Paul & Darlene, paired with small shortbread cookies, while Sam brings coffee every day and pats Zemo's shoulder a lot, and Bucky looks like he's one more shortbread cookie away from pitching them both into the Gulf of Mexico.

But somehow they settle into a sort of ... truce isn't quite the right word, probably, but it's a situation where Sam treats Zemo exactly as he would, say, one of his dad's old fishing buddies, with a casual, everyday sort of hands-on camaraderie, and Zemo at the very least doesn't try to stab or poison him, so he's going to call it a win.

*

Despite all the good intentions in the world, the Paul & Darlene is an absolutely terrible pursuit vessel for going after a suspected HYDRA smuggling speedboat. But they do actually catch up to them through Sam's insider knowledge of currents in the Gulf, which turns into a pitched battle on the fishing boat's deck, and the end result of that is Sam getting brained with a gaff hook while trying to get a HYDRA goon off Bucky's back, and falling over the railing into the clear silvergreen waters of the Gulf.

It's Zemo, he hazily understands afterwards, who dives in after him—Zemo who hands him up to Bucky on the deck, and Zemo who holds onto him while he coughs up about five gallons of seawater and Bucky steers them back toward the coast. (The speedboat, he gathers later is, is left bobbing with a GPS tracker and a handful of HYDRA operatives tied up on deck for SHIELD to come collect.)

"How is he?" Bucky asks from above Sam, a shadow cast across the painfully bright sky. Sam submits to being manhandled down into the boat's single small berth, and collapses in dizzy misery as his head injury combines with the rocking of the boat to produce a highly unpleasant mix of sensory input. Also, his throat and the back of his nose still feels like they were cored out with salt, and he has the mother of all headaches. Someone—he's really not sure which of them, honestly—gets some water and painkillers into him, and then he turns his face to the bulkhead and pulls the scratchy wool blanket over him and finds some solace in the boat's steady rocking, a callback to his childhood.

He wakes an unknown time later to the rhythmic jarring of the boat skipping over waves. They're moving at a good clip; he can almost read the speedometer from the rhythm of their thumping impacts on the ocean's slow, rolling wavetops. He tries to move, but there's a drag on his arm. He turns his aching head sluggishly to find Zemo sitting beside the bed, reading a book by a bedside lamp in the shadowed interior of the Paul & Darlene's cabin. Clear gold sunshine comes down through the steps leading up to the pilothouse, where there's a shadow that is probably Bucky, piloting the boat as Sam taught him.

Sam tries to raise his hand to his face, and that's when he realizes that Zemo's hand is wrapped loosely around his wrist. And Sam suddenly gets where Zemo is coming from; it is actually kind of strange having Zemo holding onto him like that.

"What?" Zemo says, all innocence, when Sam looks at him. "Do you need anything? Water? Tea? A trip to the head, perhaps?"

"No, I'm fine," Sam mutters, and slouches down in the bed.

Zemo goes back to reading, but his hand stays on Sam's arm, fingers lightly curled over his pulse point, until Sam drifts back to sleep.

[hanatiny]

Love, just maybe

requested by anon: Hi! Can you please write a Yeosang fic where he's in a wheelchair and a caretaker is hired to look after him and he falls in love with her? Thank you!!

a/n: in case anyone spots any medical inaccuracies and/or language I shouldn’t be using, please let me know so I can fix that!! thank u, enjoy <3

pairing: Yeosang x caretaker!f!reader

genre: fluff, very slight angst

word count: 2453

warnings: non-idol AU, mentions of disability and wheelchairs, mentions of driving, mentions of car crashes, brief mentions of food, Wooyoung unintentionally becomes the wingman of the year with someone else’s help lol

-----

You were not the slightest bit sure of how to feel about the situation, tapping your fingers against your steering wheel anxiously while you impatiently waited for traffic to clear up.

A man by the name of Jung Wooyoung had contacted you earlier this week, explaining that his friend Yeosang was in need of a caretaker but stubbornly refused to look into hiring one himself.

You had taken the “offer” without much thinking (it was more of a desperate request although Wooyoung would never admit this), especially since Yeosang was supposedly around your age and it’d make bonding with him easier, but now that you sat here in your car you weren’t all that confident anymore.

It seemed you weren’t allowed to dwell on this any longer, however, since you finally saw traffic clear up and were able to continue your way to your destination, namely Yeosang’s house.

You glanced at your duffle bag on the passenger seat, mentally checking if you’ve got everything - since you were a live-in caretaker, it meant you’d be staying for a while - more precisely, until your client decided they no longer required or wanted your assistance. It didn’t take you much longer to pull into the driveway of Yeosang’s house, which turned out to be a small townhouse in the outskirts of the city.

You climbed out of your car after taking a deep breath to calm your nerves

To your surprise, you found an abundance of flowers blooming in the frontyard. You also spotted a set of swings a little further back, curious to find out the reasoning for the presence of both of these things since you knew Yeosang had been a wheelchair user for quite some time and most likely didn’t take care of his garden or constructed those swings himself.

You weren’t any less startled when you rang the doorbell, only for a little girl who you assumed to be around 11 years old to open the door and greet you with a bright smile, “Hi there, ma’am! Are you here to visit uncle Sang?”

You quirked a brow at the words ‘uncle Sang,’ crouching down to be eye level with the girl before nodding at her, “Something like that, yeah. Could you go and get him for me?”

“Mhm! Just give me a minute~” She giggled as she ran off back into the house, returning shortly after with Yeosang following behind her. He was pretty good-looking, you had to admit. His messy blonde hair framed his face perfectly, and you wondered if it was as fluffy as it looked-

“Miss?” It was the girl’s voice that broke you out of your thoughts, her head tilted to the side inquisitively as she looked at you, “Are you okay?”

“Hm~? Yeah I’m fine, don’t worry.” You gave her a smile to reassure her, one she promptly reciprocated before turning to Yeosang when he gently placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s getting late, Minji.” He spoke softly, “You should get home, I bet your little brother and your parents wanna hear all about what we did today~”

She whined as he playfully ruffled her hair, nodding at him in understanding, “Fine~ See you tomorrow, uncle Sang! Bye bye, nice lady~!”

You found it adorable how she addressed you before she gave both you and Yeosang each a small hug before skipping off, presumably back to her own house.

Yeosang watched her with a smile until neither of you could see her anymore, the male clearing his throat awkwardly while his eyes inspected the bag in your hand.

He motioned you to follow him after another beat as he carefully pushed his wheelchair backwards and further into the house, stepping inside and closing the door behind yourself afterwards.

“I know why you’re here, since Wooyoung can’t keep his mouth shut,” Yeosang finally spoke, and it was as if the weight of your nervousness physically dropped from your shoulders, “and I imagine that you know why I’m not all too pleased about it.”

There was no disdain whatsoever towards you in his tone, only exasperation about the fact that his best friend had gone against his wishes.

He took a deep breath to calm himself before continuing, “As I’m sure you’re aware, I dislike having other people do things for me. I grew up being independent from others so this... circumstance isn’t exactly a fortunate one. If you can prove within, let’s say... a week that you genuinely care for more than the money that’s in it for you for doing this, I’ll let you stay even longer.”

It was a fair agreement - if Yeosang was to have a caretaker despite being highly apprehensive about the idea, the least he could make clear is that he didn’t want anyone who’d do a half-assed job and only pretend to care about him.

“We’ve got a deal.” You stated firmly in response, placing your bag on the floor next to you and extending a hand for the blonde to shake. He appeared to hesitate for a split second before shaking your hand with a nod, and you could’ve sworn you his lips twitch into the faintest bit of a smile.

“Lovely. Since I know you’ll need the knowledge, I figured I should tell you where all the rooms are.” He gestured for you to follow, watching him manage to turn himself around before picking up your bag again and letting him lead the way for you.

It was a pretty spacious living space for a single person, though given the circumstances, you weren’t particularly surprised about it.

“Let’s see... My bedroom is down the hall, and so is my bathroom. Minji’s room, the guest room you’ll be staying in and the guest bathroom are upstairs. And the kitchen, living room and dining room are, as you can surely tell, all connected.”

“Got it.”

Yeosang cleared his throat, and you subconsciously straightened your posture a little. “Now,” he said, “you should know that I tend to go to sleep really early, so I suppose this is what I will go ahead and do now. You can explore a little more if you want, but you should get rest as well since you officially start working tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you won’t need my help tonight...?” You inquired tentatively, not wanting to overstep any kind of boundary, and Yeosang seemed hesitant to answer before nodding firmly. “Thank you... but I’ll manage.” He finally said, “Good night, Y/n.”

You shouldn’t have been as stunned by his use of your name as you were, yet there you stood, watching him make his way down the hallway before disappearing into his bedroom. You turned on your heel, deciding that exploring could wait in favor of making yourself at home in ‘your’ room.

You skipped up the stairs, your bag swung over your shoulder, and were quick to find the bedroom you’d be staying in. Minji’s room was decorated overly cutely, while yours looked... lived in. You made a mental note to make sure to ask Yeosang about this.

And sure enough, prove yourself like he challenged you to do was exactly what you did.

Finding out the time Yeosang would usually wake up, you made it your goal to always get up before him to cook a healthy breakfast for him and prepare clothes for him to wear. He was initially reluctant to let you help with the latter, although it didn’t take him long to admit that he both needed and appreciated your assistance with things he wasn’t able to do by himself. Yeosang blushed profusely whenever he asked you to help him in bathroom, be it to empty his bladder or to wash himself, but he did catch himself warming up to you faster than he’d like anyone to know.

He admired the care you put into helping him even with arguably straining tasks like changing positions into a chair, for example, even though he was capable of doing so with minimal help. He took to either reading or playing the violin whenever you left the house to run errands like grocery shopping, and he couldn’t help but let his mind drift to you.

He had once been so distracted by his own thoughts that you had caught him playing a gentle piece on his instrument of choice, and he mentally scolded himself for the rest of that day for allowing it to come to such an embarrassment.

You, however, were absolutely endeared. Both by the fact that he was able to play an instrument as beautiful as the violin, and by the observation you’ve made that he seemed to have quite a big soft spot for Minji.

Speaking of the young girl, you grew closer to her as well - she even began calling you “aunt Y/n” after a few visits, and you could’ve sworn that her cuteness had melted you right where you stood.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Yeosang either, and it had him constantly repeating the two words in his head. He refused to admit it aloud, but he knew that what had his mind racing was the thought of a possible relationship with you that’d go beyond simply caring for him.

Similarly, you found yourself thinking about what it might actually be like to care for a child together with the blonde but snapped out of it before you allowed yourself to take your thoughts to a level that exceeded the professional one you should’ve been keeping it at.

It was Yeosang who finally broke the splintering ice between the two of you after approximately three and a half weeks of you living with him while you two were sitting on the terrace that overlooked his garden, enjoying a comfortable evening together, and you couldn’t help but tense a little from his words, “You know,” he began, “I feel like you deserve some answers to the questions I know you have but are too hesitant to ask.”

You felt your cheeks warm, he couldn’t have been any more correct with his observation.

“Let’s see - your room looked so... used, if you will, because it’s the room Wooyoung previously stayed in before he was forced to move away for work and consequently hired you to take care of me. As for Minji, her parents are away a lot so that’s why she comes over almost every day. Wooyoung and her parents constructed those swings for her when she started visiting me more frequently, and Minji’s friends are the ones taking care of the garden together with her. Y’know, since I can’t for obvious reasons.”

You nodded thoughtfully in response, somewhat overwhelmed by the amount of information you were being given but still grateful for Yeosang’s willingness to be this open with you.

“It’s been almost a year since the accident that caused me to be as I am now, in a wheelchair and codependent due to paraplegia. I will be honest, I neither know nor care to find out why that other guy rammed my car with his... I just know that we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation if he didn’t and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for putting me in this situation, in this dilemma of being unable to move or even just feel my lower half.”

“That’s understandable... I can only imagine how much it ruined your life, not to mention the emotional trauma that must’ve come with the accident.” You replied softly, trying to be careful with your words as Yeosang nodded in agreement, “Yeah, I haven’t sat in a car again ever since it happened. And I don’t really like talking about it, admittedly...”

You tilted your head at him in question while he trailed off, “I don’t mean to offend, but if that’s the case... Why are you telling me?”

“I can’t blame you for being confused about it, and I’ll be happy to explain my reasoning behind this. Truth is, I like you. In a more than ‘you care for me so I act nice around you’ way, in a... ‘I want to get closer to you’ kind of way.”

You couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow at Yeosang’s roundabout way of confessing to you, “Are you saying... you have a crush on me?”

“I- well, yeah. That’s what I’m trying to say.” Yeosang nodded shyly at your tentative question, a hum sounding in your throat in response before he continued, nervously fidgeting with his hands a little. “Listen, I just... I think I could fall in love with you. I want to ask you to permanently move in with me, because I most definitely will never get sick of you. Of course you don’t have to accept, if you don’t want to or just don’t feel the same way...”

He trailed off, not even realizing how distracted he was by the way the light of the setting sun illuminated your face until he heard you giggle softly. Yeosang blushed when he noticed that you had, rather boldly, moved your chair closer to him and were now stroking his hair absentmindedly. He found it pathetic how easily the simple gesture flustered him, not dwelling on it any longer while you spoke, “It’s funny that you bring this up, honestly... Because I happen to feel the exact same way. And maybe, just maybe, I could also see myself falling in love with you in the future. With all of you.”

“All of me?” Yeosang echoed tentatively, “Are you sure..?”

You nodded a little more enthusiastically than intended, although that was presently the least of your concerns, “I’m sure. What kind of person would I be if I rejected you purely because of something that’s out of your control?”

Yeosang felt a grin tug at his lips at the double meaning of your statement, although he found himself fumbling a little over his words. “Touché. So... what now? Is this the part where I ask you to be my girlfriend?”

“It is, and it’s also the part where I answer that question with a ‘yes’~”

Yeosang beamed at you, truly delighted that you were willing to give him a chance to be yours. Little did you know though that, as the two of you continued to talk until late in the night about everything under the sun, there was a certain young girl watching you both from where she sat at her window in the neighboring house with a small dreamy sigh before suddenly jumping up and making a run for it down the stairs.

“Mom, can you give me the phone for a sec? I wanna tell uncle Woo that my matchmaking plan worked~!”

----- Taglist:

@atinykitty @cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez​ @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @serialee @twancingyunhoe @vocalyunho

Network tag: @8makes1teamnet​

[fakeloveaskblog]

(I for one appreciate the long answers! And also…) Remy. Hey, it's alright. First off, maybe talk to Remus? He's sorta your friend now, right? Maybe tell him you notice he's always tense and ask him what's wrong?

And uh. How do I say this, uh. For the therapy to help, you have to let it help. And trust me I know how that sounds, but the gist of it is: you have to be willing to heal. Willing to work on your self-esteem, to at least try and believe that you can get better, at the very least emotionally wise. You also have to try and take your pain meds regularly on schedule besides doing the exercises your therapist gives you, and slowly work to internalize the fact that you are not a burden.

Your basic needs and aspirations and physical disability should not and would not be a burden on a partner who valued you as a person as much as you deserve to be valued. Which is, at least as much as any other human being deserving of care and love and respect should be valued. You deserve to have your basic physical and emotional needs met no matter how those differ from your partners in regards to your health, and to not be seen as a burden nor treated as such because you are not a burden!

(U!Virgil)

Remy: "Gal you gotta have 2 brains or something 'cause you're like tots smart and like right. But like I swear I am willing to heal. I am trying! I’m trying and nothing is changing! I dunno. I don’t think my self esteem is like bad or anything. Like everything I dislike about myself is true. I’m just seeing the truth. Like everyone around me agrees with it. I just know it! I know Jan and Rem and everyone else agrees. My boyfriend agrees! Whenever i say something about myself that isn’t true he like comforts me but like now I’ve moved past all that stuff and the only things left are true things”

They slumped back against the couch and let out a shaky sigh “I just don’t get why I’m still feeling this way. I mean I’m safe, I got a good boyfriend, I got friends, I’m safe. Shouldn’t some of the healing just like come naturally?”

“Look I made sauce with the pasta and it barely burned. I am such a good cook ain’t I” Virgil said sarcastically. He’d come into the living room with 2 plates. He set them down on the table when he saw them typing on their phone “Who are you talking to?”

“It’s nothing”

He held out his hand “Can I read it?”

“Babe it’s like genuinly nothing imp-”

“Can I read it?” He repeated. His tone turned harsh for just a moment.

They rolled their eyes before giving him it. Virgil skimmed through the message before letting up into a chuckle.

“Oh this is stupid. Beanie you already got an actual therapist you don’t need some amateur armchair psychology from someone who doesn’t even know you”

“I know. It was just like nothing. Like I said!”

Virgil deleted your message without telling them. He sat down next to them and playfully poked his finger into their ribs. His lips were close to their jawline.

“You don’t really feel like a burden do you? It’s not true”

Remy scoffed “You told me I was like 2 weeks ago” 

“I don’t remember saying that. You must have mixed up memories of someone else saying it to you. We both know how scrambled you are up there”

“Right yeah sure gal” They didn’t believe him. They chose to think he regretted saying it and was trying to make them forget it to make up for it. He’d said it during an argument anyway. Just like most of the other times. So it didn’t really count.

“And even if I did hypothetically say it I would probably have a good reason to. It’s not exactly hard to find reasons to call you a burden”

Their throat tightened “I know”

“Good” He littered quick kisses from their jaw up to their cheek while moving his arms around their waist. They pushed what he’d said to the back of their mind and smiled. It was always easier to do so when he gave them a reason to smile.

“You should shave. You’re tickling me” They giggled out.

He cupped their cheeks “There’s my laughy RemRem. And you will not stop my beard. Soon enough it will make me powerful enough to summon spirits”

They snorted “Babe I am not calling that collection of hair a beard”

He kissed them on the lips “Not yet....not yet”

“Pff. In your wet dreams hun. Aight the pastas gonna get cold”

“Not to sound vulgar but....OOF. You’re eating that poisonous waste first” 

“Sure. Girl congrats you’re finally gonna be able to fullfill your full Geard Gay fantasy at my funeral” 

Later that evening, after Virgil had cuddled up to them like a cat and fallen asleep, Remy was looking around on their phone after your message. They must have accidentally deleted it. They opened their notes app, you didn’t seem to follow human logic so they assumed you could read whatever they wrote on their phone.

“sorry gal. could you like remind me tomorrow to ask remus about the tensing up thing? please? i dont want to forget about doing it. i hadnt like thought about asking before. fuck im a bad friend”

[darkshadow90]

Arthur Fleck x physically disabled reader: You need reassurance.

Summary: You and Arthur have been dating for a little while. You notice he seems very happy that Penny is gone, and it makes you wonder if he would be happy if you were gone, too. You don’t want to be a burden to him. When you ask him about his feelings, he reassures you that he wants you to stay and he loves you for who you are. Warnings: Angsty thoughts.

A/N: Hey guys. I had an idea to write a one shot about Arthur with a physically disabled reader. I don’t like writing self inserts, but as someone who has a physical disability, I wanted to write from this perspective. I’ve had a few ideas as to what to write about, and this is one of them. I have another one shot idea, I want to write from the perspective of having a physical disability too, but I wanted to write this one first. I thought some of you could find this relatable. Warnings: The reader has angst, negative thoughts about how she thinks Arthur feels about her. I hope you like it :)

You and Arthur had been dating for awhile. When you first met he seemed odd, a bit shy, but not unkind. The two of you began talking with each other, and overtime, you discovered you had things in common. While people were mean to Arthur, they didn’t really notice you at all. They never gave you the time of day. It was almost like they would rather not see you at all. You and Arthur understood what it was like to navigate a world that wasn’t always built for people like you to live in it. You both understood how isolating that felt. Even though your struggles were different, you understood how difficult life could be in an uncaring place like Gotham. You heard about Arthur’s mom being hospitalized. It had been a few since you heard from him, so you decided to visit him.

You knocked on his door and he opened it. “Hey, Arthur. I just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing. I thought you might like company.” “Y/N, I’m so glad you’re here. I have to tell you, I feel great. My mom is dead.” The way he said it shocked you. He seemed happy about it. “Oh...I’m so sorry. I’ll come back some other time.” “No, no, stay. I could use some company. You can stay for dinner. I’ll make something.” “Okay, sure.” You didn’t know Penny well, you only met her twice. Arthur always spoke positively of her. He talked about how taking care of her could be stressful at times. It really bothered you that Arthur seemed so happy she was gone.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of insecurity. You didn’t doubt caring for someone could be exhausting. That was what pushed you to be independent. You didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. You didn’t want to be seen as weak and helpless. You knew your family and friends never saw you that way. You knew those thoughts came from society and ignorant people, but they still bothered you. You began to wonder if Arthur saw you that way and just didn’t tell you. You wondered if he would be happy if you were gone too. Arthur put plates with pieces of meat and potatoes on them on the table.

You went over and sat down. You knew you would have trouble cutting the meat, but asking for help wasn’t something you were good at. While you were having insecure thoughts about how he saw you, it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You had a physical disability, but you weren’t as clingy or manipulative as Penny was. Penny always asked him to do everything for her. She always wanted him around, she never let him grow up. The thought had crossed his mind that she would manipulate him into doing things for her when she was capable of doing things for herself. It was different with you. You encouraged and supported him. You could do a lot for yourself. Arthur respected that because Penny never let him have full independence. He did wish you would ask for help when you needed it. He hated seeing you struggle. You didn’t need to prove your worth to him. He thought the world of you

You hated only having full use of one hand. You were having trouble cutting the meat and you really didn’t want to ask for help. You didn’t want Arthur to think you were useless. You gave up and held a piece of meat with your hand, about eat it. “Here. I got it.” He took the meat from you and cut it into smaller pieces for you. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to think I’m...helpless. Would you be happy if I was gone? I don’t want to be a burden.” Arthur couldn’t believe what you just said. “Y/N, why would you ever think something like that?” “You’re happy your mom is gone. I know you had to take care of her. Do I remind you of her when I need help? Do you think I’d be a burden?” “No, of course not, Y/N. I’m not happy she’s gone. I’m happy she isn’t sick anymore. She has nothing to do with how I feel about you. You mean so much to me. I’m with you because I want to be with you. I’m with you because you’re such a strong and supportive person. Don’t ever feel bad about needing help. I’m not helping you because I feel like I have to help you, I’m helping you because I want to. It’s okay to need help. You’re enough and I want you to stay with me. I need you now more than ever.” You almost cried hearing him say that. It felt amazing to finally hear someone say you were worthy, that you were enough. You knew this wasn’t the only time you would be plagued by negative thoughts, but whenever they came, you would think of this moment.

[spectrumed]

4. body

Do I have body issues? Well... yeah. Who doesn’t? I absolutely do not like being fat, that’s something I’d change about me. And I probably should bulk up a little, go to the gym. My diet isn’t terrible, I don’t eat any fast food, but I could still always eat healthier. More greens, less beans. But most of all, my biggest body issue is that I don’t really associate myself with my body. My mind feels disconnected from my body. The day scientists invent a way for us all to live as brains in jars on wheels, I’m there standing in line for a chance to become all cerebral. Being physical, it’s just so messy, so awkward, so uncomfortable. You feel pain, you feel embarrassment, you feel horny. Nothing good comes from having a body. If you were just a brain, you could go on thinking and calculating and just generally having a good mental time. Or you’d start feeling suffocated and trapped trying to move your limbs and realising that they have been all chopped off. Hmm… Maybe it’s more complicated than I initially thought.

I don’t understand people who enjoy physical activities. Let it be clear before we delve into this long rant of mine complaining about all things gymnastic, this is not particularly an autistic trait. In fact, there are plenty of autistic people who may excel as athletes, their drive and obsessive personality traits becoming quite useful in developing that discipline that is required to fully commit to becoming an all-star jock. Not all autistic people are reprehensible nerds. Some autistic people are actually quite sexy. Some even have abs. But that’s not me. That’s not my clan of autistic people. I like drawing maps. I like thinking about things. I like making cocktails. The only part of my physical body that I like to put strain on is my liver. Don’t make me go on a run. There isn’t an armchair in this world that I wouldn’t want to sit down in, even the ones that used to be owned by old chain-smokers that have that awful aroma that sneaks into your nostrils and makes you worry about second-hand lung cancer. Sitting is great. I like sitting. Also lying down. Lying down is good.

Am I lazy? No, I don’t think so. Maybe a little, but here’s the thing. I can’t control the things I obsess over. There’s a great deal of overlap between autism spectrum disorder and attention deficit disorder. If you’re reading this and you’re a fellow friend on the spectrum, you may have gotten diagnosed with both. One of those rare times in my life I have attended group therapy, more than half the group were diagnosed with both. I, however, am not. But seeing as the two conditions are so intertwined, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a facet of autism involves difficulties in trying to focus on something, or even trying not to focus on something too hard. If you were to judge my tenacity, my ability to keep going, based solely on how I perform during physical tasks, you’d think I was the least resolute person on the planet. But then you’ll find me, some time later, staying up until four in the morning drawing another map. A map that’s really just a different take on another map that I drew earlier, that itself was a reworked version of a previous map that I drew but didn’t like, that actually began as a second iteration of one map I drew that was actually wholly different, that was based on a map of Europe but if Denmark never existed. How many maps have you drawn Fred? Why don’t you go mind your own business, you nosy ferret.

The DSM-5 (the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. You can think of it as something akin to a bible of psychology, which is definitely an inflammatory way to refer to it, but I’m gonna go with it! Because I’m a wildcard, and that’s just how I roll,) includes this section as part of its diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder.

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Now, I personally don’t relate to that at all. There’s nothing abnormal in my intense love for maps. The fact that maps aren’t as widely cherished as they ought to be is a fault of others, and I refuse to acknowledge that this may be a part of my character that could be perceived as quirky, or out of the ordinary. But, still, for the sake of argument, let’s presume that I can get, at times, excessively circumscribed. I’d like to say that I’ve only ever engaged in excessive circumscribing in my privacy away from onlookers, but I am afraid that I may have allowed some of my excessive circumscribing to happen in public. I definitely do apologise for that. I will try to do better in the future. But you never know when you’re about to experience some excessive circumscribing. The best you can do is keep it limited.

I don’t know how neurotypicals work. So, you don’t feel these kinds of obsessions? These moments of intense focus? These fixations? Then, you lack passion? Are you heartless? Soulless? Or are you just weak? Are you too feeble to hold steadfast working on a project all night long? To lose touch with your sense of hunger, your need for sleep, and all contact with any other human person? My fixations may come across as strange, but to me, your lack of fixations come across as bizarre. The world is endlessly fascinating. Have you never felt that compulsion to just fully immerse yourself in a topic that allows you to forget about your physical body for just that moment in time? The body cannot hold me. I wish to absorb as much information as I can. If I could astral project, by gods, I would astral project. To decouple your consciousness from your mushy brain for just that little bit, to go soaring across the landscapes, to explore the cosmos, just free of all things corporeal, that would be swell. How terrible isn’t it, when you’re deep in research, learning all about the mystical religious practices of the long-dead hierophants of the ancient world, to be drawn back into the present by the sudden need to urinate? There is something so dreadfully mundane about possessing a human body. If only we could all be celestial beings allowed to just be without the biological needs associated with having flesh and blood and bone and bladders.

I am not religious, nor am I spiritual. I do not believe that there is an immaterial world that lies above the material. I do not believe there is an astral plane. I think that one of the terrifying things about living is knowing that we do not possess such a thing as an eternal soul, that all things are temporal, and that ultimately, we have to come to terms with that. It’s not so terrible. In some ways, the temporal nature of life can be its biggest blessing. All things must pass. Sure, that does include the good times, like that vacation you spent as a child wishing that it would never end. But it also includes the bad times. The heartbreak you feel from a failed relationship. The grief you feel after the passing of a parent. The depression some of us are burdened with. Some days are worse than others. But they too will pass. One of the remarkable things about the human body is its ability to bounce back from injury. To change and evolve in ways we sometimes find unthinkable. The brain, likewise, is transformational, capable of incredible developments. We’re not fixed in stone. We’re not eternal. Which is a good thing. It is what allows recuperation and progress. I should be thankful to my body for being there, even when I’m not. After all, isn’t your body your temple?

I am able-bodied. Am I disabled? There’s naturally a lot of questions that surround how we ought to understand mental illness or neurodiversity in regards to disability. Does autism spectrum disorder count as a disability? Well, yes, it can be considered a learning disability. It is certainly something of a handicap, you are experiencing struggles that most people don’t experience. But to your average layperson, your typical dullard who spends their time watching reality TV, drinking beer, and being happy, what counts as a disability to them? Would they see me and think I was disabled? I’m not in a wheelchair. I don’t walk with a cane. Though I will occasionally “stim,” make small repetitive moments with my hands or legs, I do not exhibit any kind of physical symptoms. If I told them that I was disabled, they’d scoff and tell me that I’m just making it up for attention. They’d say I’m probably just trying to mooch off the government, scoring welfare checks while doing nothing to contribute to society. I’ve got all my limbs. I am not sickly. I am actually quite strong, due to being a big and tall man, I am able to carry quite the load. So, I have no reason to not be a fully productive member of society, right? And yet, here I am, feeling at most times utterly perplexed by anything physical. Probably because I am just lazy, right?

I don’t think laziness is a thing. What is laziness supposed to actually be? Tiredness? If a person is perpetually tired, then they’ve likely got a sleep disorder. To call them lazy would be callous. There are plenty of overworked people that get called lazy, especially by tyrannical overseers who think of their charges as mere workhorses whose only purpose in life is to toil away in the factory until the day they die. Intolerable parents who see their terminally sullen child and instead of wondering what is making them so upset decide to deride them for their lack of ambition. Are you lazy when you are procrastinating? No you are just being a tad irresponsible, maybe, deciding to skip out on chores in order to play video games or masturbate. But you’re not just doing nothing. People generally don’t enjoy doing nothing. We need something to occupy ourselves, to fill that vacuum we all feel whenever we’re just sitting still. I am someone who appears to be comfortable just sitting still, but that’s because I’ve learned, since a very young age, to entertain myself with my own thoughts. To fantasise, to daydream, to do anything I can to escape from the void that is doing absolutely nothing. Boredom, that’s terrible. Boredom is existential dread. Of all the motivations that drive humans, love, spite, jealousy, or pride, I think the need to evade boredom is one of the most prevalent. Humans would rather experience electric shocks than sit alone in a room being bored.

I am not lazy, I am merely… excessively circumscribed. For as much as this may be a specific diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, I think it is also a common trait amongst all humans. There will always be within us a pull to do something other than the thing that we’re really supposed to be doing, that does not make us lazy, that just makes us terrified of boredom. Sure, you know that you’re supposed to mow the lawn, but that's just so dreadfully tedious, you just would rather be working on perfecting your new stand-up comedy routine. Thinking up jokes to tell on stage is so much more stimulating than cutting grass. And who cares if your lawn grows a little wild? Lawns are a scam, imposed by fascists to make us think grass in its natural state is ugly. All grass is beautiful, whether it is cut short or it is allowed to grow long. Do the thing that fulfils you. Allow yourself to become immersed in passion, to forget about those things that hold you back, the little silly things we’ve convinced ourselves is important. Stay up late, if you wish. You’re gonna kill it on open mic night, bud!

Yes, it is a problem when your obsessions grow so singular that you forget to feed yourself. When you forget personal hygiene, when you become trapped in your own apartment looking like some feral rodent caught in a cage. Like always, the key is moderation, and I know that from time to time, you may have to entertain a boring task or two. Clean your room, brush your teeth, trim your pubic hair, try to give an impression that you are taking care of yourself. If for anyone, do it for your mother. She will be happy seeing you looking like a civilised individual, wearing clean clothes and not looking malnourished. But don’t ever chastise yourself for being lazy. Laziness is a sin that we’re all guilty of, and if we’re all guilty of it, is it really a sin? Or is it just part of what it means to be a human? To be a messy creature made out of flesh and blood and bone and the occasional bladder. In the end, I’m more happy than displeased at having a body. It’d be much harder to type on a keyboard if I didn’t have fingers.

Still, I wish I wasn’t fat.

[endof-theline]

Day 15- Tropetember: Touch Starvation

Day 15 of super early Tropetember with Touch Starvation and a little of Huddling for Warmth. The mission couldn't have gone worse if they had tried, Steve and Tony are left waiting for pick up and when the fire isn't warm enough for Tony, Steve gets an idea...

(There is a paragraph of not graphic abuse from Howard to Tony, if you think it will upset you then skip the paragraph in italics.)

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32604658

This mission could not get worse.

First, it just had to be Steve that Tony got sent out on a mission within hours after they had a huge fight that left Tony hiding in his workshop and Steve in the gym destroying punching bags.

Second, the Hydra base was in the middle of a forest so they had to walk out to the base through the forest, also being in the middle of nowhere meant that they lost signal to Shield almost straight away.

Third, during the mission a Hydra agent managed to disable Tony's suit, forcing him to get out, and Tony couldn't get it back online so he had to finish the mission unarmoured which sparked a whole new argument with Steve over it.

And lastly, Hydra blew up their own base so the mission to collect intel was almost a complete failure and also Steve and Tony had to flee into the forest to avoid getting blown up with it, Steve carrying the suit with him as they ran.

Now, Tony was gathering supplies Steve asked for to make a fire for them while Steve was wandering the open plain as he spoke to Shield on patchy signal, the call constantly dropping as they spoke. Tony dropped his armful of sticks at the suit's feet; they had decided to stay on the outskirts of the forest to try and avoid detection from any Hydra agents but also be able to spot the Quinjet when it arrived.

Lifting his shirt, Tony winced at the deep slash that was cut over his ribs, he hadn't been able to see it and avoid Steve seeing it at the same time so seeing his chest smeared with blood was a shock.

He quickly dropped the shirt as Steve jogged over to him with a frown on his face "The ship we took here got shot at, they're sending a new one but it's still a couple hours out"

"Great" Tony huffed as he ran his fingers through his hair, his body screaming from the slight movement "The crew okay?"

Steve blinked at him for a second before saying "Uh, yeah, crew's fine just a little shaken"

Tony just nodded slowly before Steve was kneeling down and started building a fire up for them. Tony watched curiously as Steve worked quickly and had to admit he was impressed when Steve had the small fire burning, Steve sat down and held his hands out to the fire with a small, peaceful, smile on his face.

"Didn't know you knew how to make a fire" Tony pointed out as he sat down beside the armour which happened to be opposite to Steve, Steve looked at him through the flames and nodded slowly.

"Learnt in the army" He commented before turning back to the flames, Tony just bit his tongue to stop himself talking since it was pretty clear Steve was still mad at him for their fight.

Tony warmed his hands in the fire as he let his mind wander to his broken suit, mentally trying to repair it before getting it into the shop. His mind dove into the suit with ease, but every so often Steve's angry words would play back in his head and Tony couldn't help but be distracted back into replaying the whole fight over again.

"-ing" Steve broke through the blueprints in Tony's head and made his head snap up to look over at the Captain blankly "You're ignoring me again"

"I wasn't ignoring you, Cap" Tony sighed as he rubbed at his face tiredly "I was thinking, I just didn't hear you"

"Right, I said you're shaking" Steve said, sounding like he didn't believe Tony one bit which Tony decided to ignore instead of picking another fight. Tony took stock of his body then, his chest felt like it was on fire from the cut but his whole body was trembling, his fingers despite being held to the fire were numb with the cold and his body was still to feel stiff and cold. The arthritis his doctor warned him about was going to love this.

"It's freezing, I'm surprised you're not shaking" Tony shrugged as he realised that Steve didn't look bothered by the temperature one way or the other, he wasn't shaking or sweating just looking completely neutral.

"My body runs hot, serum and all that, so the fire is enough for me not to get cold" Steve explained with a slight shrug of his shoulder before getting up and sitting back down beside Tony "The Commandos said that even sitting next to me warmed them up, huddling for warmth was pretty common"

"Understandable, your old uniform never looked warm so I can only guess the other soldiers were freezing most of the time" Tony nodded along, Howard was never on the battlefront since he was making weapons so he didn't have war stories to tell Tony growing up "Ever since this-" Tony tapped the arc reactor "-I've always run colder than normal, poor circulation from the shrapnel"

"Give me your hand" Steve said as he held his hand out, Tony flinched slightly from Steve's hand before slowly reaching out and letting Steve hold his hand between his own "Geez, you're like ice"

"T-Told you, poor circulation" Tony stammered slightly as his eyes focused on his pale, shaky hand between Steve's warm hands, the leather of the fingerless gloves was smooth and warm from Steve's palms. If he was warm enough, Tony was sure he would be blushing from the contact, it had been a long time since anyone held his hand and an equally long time since someone had touched him without inflicting pain.

Tony was brought out his thoughts when Steve reached out to touch his face, the sudden movement making Tony flinch and jerk away with wide eyes as he ripped his hand out from Steve as he batted Steve's hand away from him.

"Relax, I was just going to feel your forehead" Steve snapped with a frustrated tone while Tony was too busy trying to calm his heart rate back down to reply "Did you think I was going to hit you?"

"No" Tony lied.

"I wouldn't hit you, Tony, especially for no reason" Steve huffed as he got progressively more annoyed by the smaller man, it wasn't hard for Steve to recall all of the times he had been beaten up either with or without blame.

"We were fighting earlier" Tony pointed out quickly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as Steve's voice shouted in his head.

"That doesn't mean I would hit you now, is that really what you think of me? That I would just hit you for no reason other than a fight we had hours ago" Steve was starting to shout again and Tony was desperately avoiding the temptation to run away from it, he wanted to cover his ears and hide but he knew that he couldn't show weakness, not now, not ever.

"I didn't say that, you're putting words in my mouth" Tony countered and apparently that was the wrong thing to say since Steve just huffed at him as he threw his hands up, noticing the way Tony flinched again.

"Well it's clearly true, you keep flinching and you always refuse to stand even close to me, if we argue you're always so flighty!" Steve snapped before standing up and brushing himself down, a scowl on his face "I'm taking a walk, you can relax"

Tony hated the way that he had to untense his body when Steve said that since he had braced for getting a kick and he saw the way Cap looked when he saw Tony relax his muscles, the kicked puppy look on his face. He watched as Steve stormed away and started to pace around the field, Tony couldn't help but feel guilty as he realised that Steve was right.

He assumed the worst of his team, always thinking that they would attack him at any moment and Steve definitely got the worst of it. Howard had used Steve as a threat growing up, telling him that he would get Steve to hurt him like Howard did if he acted up. Tony thought he had grown out of that fear, but whenever Steve was in the same room as him Tony was scared that he would get hurt.

Of course, Tony didn't have the best experiences with physical contact anyway, most people who touched him ended up hurting him. It was just easier and safer to not let them touch him first.

Though his hand between Steve's had his heart pounding and his stomach twisting in a completely different way, he didn't quite know how to deal with the soft way Steve held his hand or how to deal with the feelings that came with it.

"You're always distracted or ignoring me!" Steve's voice screamed at him, Tony covered his ears and ducked his head "You never follow orders, you're going to get us killed!"

Tony curled into a ball and the cut on his side sent pain throughout his body, alongside all of the bruises he had gotten on the mission as well.

A memory of Howard standing over him with a smashed glass bottle in hand played in his mind, Tony's held out palms bleeding from the shards. A sneer on Howard's face as Tony cried from the pain, the bottle was thrown to his side and he got a slap in the face for flinching away from it.

"Tony, can you hear me?" Steve's voice broke through the memory, Tony always found himself paying attention to his voice the quickest. Steve knelt to his side and looked at him worriedly so Tony quickly dropped his hands and uncurled himself with a shaking smile "What happened, you were alone for two minutes?"

"Nothing's wrong, I just-" Tony started but Steve quickly interrupted him.

"Don't lie to me, not now" Steve spoke firmly but it wasn't unkind, voice hard but comforting.

"Our fight brought back some bad memories, both fights I suppose since it's to do with why I can't be touched" Tony said in a small voice, he rubbed at his arms and found himself still freezing cold and Steve gave him a sympathetic look.

"Why you can't be touched, of course you can. Nothing bad is going to happen if someone touches you" Steve said, confused, repeating back Tony's words and just frowning at the man who said them. Tony shook his head, not wanting to go into it in the middle of a forest "You won't burst into flames and turn to dust if I touch you, Tony, noth-"

"I get hurt!" Tony blurted out, panicking for a second before giving up since he's already told the truth "When people touch me, I get hurt. Anytime someone touches me, I always end up getting smacked or hit or kicked or choked or burnt. I always get hurt"

"Tony, I-" Steve struggled for words as he stared at Tony for a moment "I'm going to touch you, and I promise I won't do any of that stuff, alright? I need you to tell me if that's alright"

Tony sighed, hanging his head, but nodded anyway as he heard that one before.

"Good, I'm going to hug you" Steve warned him before slowly wrapping his arms around Tony and pulling him close, arms loose enough not to squeeze but tight enough that Tony could feel the pressure of them being there "Is this alright?"

Tony's brain was frozen as Steve held him, it had been decades since someone had held him like this, something that he didn't have to start or be dragged into, something warm and kind. Steve started to pull away when Tony didn't speak but paused when Tony let out a whimper.

"Do you want me to let go?" Steve asked quietly, a small smile on his lips when Tony shook his head "Tighter?" Tony just nodded and when Steve pressed him tighter to his chest, the floodgates broke as Tony sobbed into Steve's chest and his arms wrapped hard around Steve's waist "It's okay, you're safe with me, I'm not going to hurt you"

Tony's brain was going way too fast for him to understand as Steve held him close and promised that he was safe there, the touch overwhelming him as he waited for the pain but never received any. Steve carefully moved Tony to sit in his lap and gently cradled the back of Tony's head in one hand as he kept it pressed to his chest, not pushing him there or holding him down just scratching at his head slowly as he hugged Tony to his chest.

"I don't get it" Tony cried, noticing briefly that his body was warming up slowly before Steve spoke up.

"There's nothing to get, it's just a hug, it's just me holding you and there's no expectations, you can move whenever you want, I won't hurt you" Steve whispered to him over the crackle of the fire and the noise of bugs chirping in the night "I will hold you for as long as you want to be held"

Tony, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed, just stayed silent as he hung onto Steve and cried hard, his tears rolling down the hard leather of Steve's suit but Tony didn't care as Steve hummed to him softly. It was a song Tony recognized from Steve's records, something from the 40s, and he just relaxed further when Steve started to sway slowly to his song.

"Commandos were right, you're really warm" Tony mumbled softly and leant into the touch when Steve tipped his head up with a hand on his cheek "Thank you for not laughing at me"

"'Course not, Tony, it's not your fault that you can't trust other people not to hurt you when that's all you know. Took me a long time to be okay with being in a plane, crashing one was one of the first times I'd been in one" Steve hummed as he smiled down at Tony, the pair just smiling at each other for a brief moment before a voice was speaking in Steve's ear.

"Can you hear me, Captain?" The voice asked and Steve's eyes lit up excitedly.

"Loud and clear" Steve said back in his Captain America voice, all bold and clear of his accent.

"We see the field, we'll be landing in a moment" The voice said and Tony let out a little cheer, part of him didn't want them to come just yet because it meant leaving the warm, comforting space in Steve's arms and having to go back to hiding away from touch.

"I want you to know, this isn't over. Anytime you want some contact, you can come to me, even if you just want to sit next to me that's fine. I want to help you, Tony" Steve told him with a smile back on his face. Tony smiled bashfully but nodded all the same before he slowly moved away from Steve and stood with a long stretch. Steve stood beside and stretched out as well "Don't think I didn't notice that cut, by the way, Bruce will be taking a look at that when we get home"

"Damn, just when I thought I was in the clear" Tony teased playfully, making Steve laugh as he stamped out the fire with ease, as he made sure there were no rogue sparks anywhere. Tony suddenly remembered and linked his pinky with Steve's to catch his attention "I don't ignore you, Steve. Sometimes my thoughts are louder than the real world and I honestly can't hear you, I don't mean to be rude"

"Oh! Thank you for telling me, I'll make sure to catch your attention in the future. Is there a good way I can do that without making you jump?" Steve asked and Tony stared at him for a moment with his mouth hanging up ajar, shocked at how easy Steve made it seem.

"Rhodey normally just does this and it does the trick, just don't wave in my face or make loud noises" Tony swung their hands to show what he meant by their connected fingers, Steve nodded and smiled before the noise of the Quinjet was too much to have a conversation over.

Steve picked up the suit and carried it to the ship with Tony jogging beside him, both of them just wanting to go home as soon as possible. The door shut behind them when the suit was safe in storage and both Steve and Tony were sat down and strapped in for the flight back.

Nobody mentioned the way Steve picked at his gloves on the ride, and nobody mentioned the way Tony gently took hold of Steve's hand as he pretended to look elsewhere.

Steve gave Tony's hand a little squeeze in thanks and couldn't help the grin on his face when Tony squeezed back, it was going to be a long path but both of them could tell it would be worth walking it.