#as usual 'is this autism or just depression'

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I don't know if it's my brain subconsciously going 'We're so fucking tired of your current obsession/coping mechanism, can we PLEASE MOVE ON ALREADY!?', but sometimes while I'm enjoying listening to/reading about/'researching' my current obsession/coping mechanism (usually a band, like right now - for the past year and a half), I'll have a moment every once and a while where I think about it, 'This is so fucking stupid, and it's so stupid that it makes you happy. You don't even talk to or engage with anyone about this so WHO FUCKING CARES?!' and I get really, really depressed for that moment. Even though I try to think critically about those thoughts to stop them from making me depressed, they usually do manage to make me hate my obsession or be ashamed of it for at least a day. And those are always rather dark days for me, because usually it's whatever I'm obsessed with that gives me at least an hour or two every day where I'm EXCITED to be alive to engage with it, and if I don't have that, then I'm not excited about anything, and therefore I don't think that day is worthwhile enough to exist through. So I don't know what to do about those thoughts beyond thinking critically about them [to stop them from dissuading me from my obsession], because even when I do, they still usually manage to 'win' for at least a little while.

[mrfoox]

Everyone at work: omg welcome back, how are you? Is it OK?? Hi!!!

Me: o:

[oddogoblino]

Man I call smth I do as a sign I'm just a silly little dumdum but then I see other people doing the same things and calling it their [insert mental disorder or illness] quirks and I just have to wonder

[the-world-is-treating-me-bad]

I’m only 23, why does my body hurt so much all the time! I am going to fistfight god why am I multiply disabled to the degree that I can’t work, and even past that to the degree where I can’t even do banal everyday things that make me happy and improve my general living situation! AUGH.

[alchemiclee]

as a fellow introvert; we are social creatures. introverts who purposefully see no one for months on end are usually just in a cycle where its been so long since they’ve hung out that it’s too intimidating for them to do anymore. i 100% feel tired after hanging out with my friends but i DO also feel happy and refreshed! tl;dr - you’re super normal lol. try to reach out to a couple people just to chat this week <3

thanks for reaching out I really appreciate it❤️ but I have to rant a bit. I allow you to ignore it!

I wish to not be a social creature because going too long without having a friend to talk to or not having someone to talk with almost daily feels bad and it's so hard to have a friend when I need one D:

i've been reaching out to people for the last few weeks or so but they don't reach back. try playing games with people but they play with their other friends or dont feel like playing. invite people to hang out but they say maybe and never give an answer or don't respond.

I don't want to bother my closest friends in our group chat too much in our group chat but the chat is mostly me sending messages with no response and even couple times saying I need a friend when I was having bad days but they didn't want to chat and I dont want to force anyone to entertain my lonely depressed ass. (especially when all I really needed was to talk about the new star rail stuff to distract me but I don't think they've finished it yet so I don't want to spoil) they live together so they always have to socialize and probably make each other tired without needing to add me to it.

so i've also been trying to reach out to new people, like joining twitch chats again for the first time in years. but that never goes well and doesn't satisfy my social needs. too many people talking at once and being the new person no one cares about and all....getting to know a new is very exhausting. but it's so hard to just be able to skip all that getting to know each other stuff jump straight into talking about a thing we both like (in this case it's star rail and cosplay and maybe art) I don't have enough already-known people to reach out to and i'm too tired to do the small talk dance until it's appropriate to jump into special interest territory. being autistic is so exhausting. I with to be one of those rare autistics I sometimes hear about that have 0 interest in social interaction at all

so as you can see, i'm trying. so hard. to the point I'm exhausting myself. it's been too much work for no payoff and makes things feel worse when the outcome isn't what I need and its constant reaching with no one grabbing my hand back. so I keep making annoying tumblr posts about it. i'm so sorry to anyone that reads my nonsense 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this is a normal thing with me but it's usually kept to my other blog that's reserved for more serious posts like this but I tried posting here as a way to "reach out" and see if it invites any friendly friends or something but I don't think i'm doing it right...

(but I am going to a con tomorrow with someone I haven't talked to in like 2 years. but we don't have anything in common anymore so theres not much to talk about. he's the only person who responded to me after trying to reach out for like a month but I fear it will only exhaust me being around too many people and not help this gross need to have a deeper connecting socialization D:)

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[muletia]

alrighr, yandere it is(maybe, I mean truck dad hyperfixates on you like you're his autism interest)

And also him being completely horny on the inside is so funny like

"Ah hello Y/N, it's always a pleasure to have you here(i was feeling so depressed and having a boner 5 minutes ago in my dorm)"

that's him, that's my obsessed optimus.

like yeah, he smiles at you and seems a bit chirpier than usual in your presence, but he still keeps his feelings for you bottled up inside. he’s like boiling water in a pot with a lid on. the pressure makes the lid rattle, so you know the water’s boiling, but you don’t know how much. when it comes to Optimus’ feelings — it’s intense as hell. giving him attention calms him down a little since he can focus on you, on the conversation, or the contact between your skin and his metal, but if you’re not around, bro’s like a ticking time bomb. and, it really doesn’t help that he’s horny. sometimes.

let’s say he hasn’t seen you for a long time (a week). the longing eats away at his processor; he thinks about you 24/7, and suddenly his thoughts start getting bolder, more shameless, focusing more on your body than your soul. he tries to remind himself, to scold himself, that it’s immoral and he absolutely shouldn’t be stirring himself up like this, because it’s hurtful for both of you. that he’s being crude. and then he looks down and already knows that he’s failed again, that he couldn’t stop himself. and it’s exactly like you wrote — then you show up at the base, and Optimus acts ‘normal,’ sweet towards you, asking if you’re okay, how life’s going, anything just to keep you talking to him, like he wasn't jerking off 5 minutes ago thinking about your cleavage 💀

optimus: the world is a cruel and unjust place. i feel excitement at the sight of a being 50 times smaller than me. i am going insane without them, i need to be near them 25 hours a day or i’ll lose my mind, but i can’t confess my feelings to them because they’ll think i’m disgusting and creepy. i will never be happy...

*reader walks into the base*

optimus: omg reader hi

i can totally see him listening to country music and imagining the two of you as a couple living out in the countryside with a bunch of sparklings.

just pray to god he never finds out what thirst songs are, because he WILL let his erotic fantasies run wild (you top btw)

tbh the only thing that could save him is you confessing your feelings for him and accepting the fact that he’s a freak when it comes to you, because optimus would just keep spiraling in a loop of self-hatred, depression, and arousal until he just burns out.

[lsd-astronaut]

Random headcanons of the fellowship bc I'm bored (mix of modern & canon)

✨Frodo

Scares the shit out of people by staring them directly in the eye without blinking but if you looked inside his mind, it'd be a rotating PNG of a fish, he just dissociates a lot

Would absolutely steal stuff in Claire's. He's really good at it.

Doesn't smoke, yet he is the one who gets asked the most out of the four hobbits for a light.

He strikes me as a stomach problems & back pain girlie.

🌻Sam

He looks like a bread guy for me. I like bread.

Full on conversations with his plants. Mainly gossip about the Shire, and how dashing Mister Frodo was looking today, can you believe it?

The only hobbit with a driving license (Frodo can't bc of depression and dissociation; Merry got pulled over and got his license revoked for having weed in his car; Pippin is a minor).

🍁Merry

You know these videos where a girl (usually) records her partner while they're cuddling and he's so whiny and talking like a princess, and suddenly he sees the phone and forces his voice like three octaves lower? Yeah...

Narrates everything that everyone in the fellowship does during the journey like it's a nature documentary. Stopped pretty quickly after Moria.

The Walter White of Middle Earth if he could get away with it, let's be honest.

🌱Pippin

Had a phase where he ate anything he saw. Mainly stopped after Merry made him cry by teasing him that if he kept eating ants, they would eat him from inside out. He still munches on flowers when he's bored. Aragorn has given up on telling him to be careful in case one is poisonous, but Boromir suffers mini heart attacks daily.

Accidentally mansplains to everyone he knows but that's because he gets very excited with his hyperfixations! He has no idea why he doesn't have any luck in love, and Merry is like "dude shut the fuck up..."

Is like these children who will constantly ask "why" to their parents, and Boromir tries to be nice and genuine for him but he eventually gets tired. "But, why?" "Because I fucking said so!" "Okay... but why?"

I feel like he cries pretty easily about everything and anything. He is just very sensitive, and feels emotions really strongly.

🗡️Aragorn

Hates parties; when he is forced to attend one, he will sit in one corner and sip on his drink. Gets really drunk and texts Arwen. "How was the party, meleth nín?" "Me, yes."

Hyperfixates on the weirdest things like Pippin, but his autism shows in the most deadpan way possible so he just stands there like "i like swords" and will emotionlessly list you all the characteristics of your weapon of choice. If you looked inside his mind, you'd see he is REALLY excited. He just doesn't know how to show it.

🏹Legolas

For some reason, I feel like he'd know a super random skill? Like ventriloquism. Recreates the "hi my name is snapple" video with Gimli just to fuck with him.

Can actually whistle with a leaf, idk how he does this, but it's the only 'instrument' he can play (apart from his voice if you want to get nitpicky with me) lol this elf does not have a single musical bone.

⛏️Gimli

Crystal girlie. Gives Frodo an encyclopaedia on all the types of healing properties and characteristics of every kind of gem and stone.

Really good medical skills. The rest of the fellowship regularly forget his uncle is Oín, so they're dumbfounded when Gimli gives advice to Aragorn, who is the only one that isn't surprised and actually listens to him when patching up Frodo lmfao

🛡️Boromir

Talks like someone out of a Shakespeare play and is dumbfounded when everyone in the fellowship is like "sup bro"

Keeps a heart locket with a picture of Faramir he likes to show like a proud dad does with his kids' wallet photos. Faramir was horrified when he learned of this and stopped talking to him for a month

Took to the hobbits like a dad who says he doesn't want a dog and then they're inseparable. Says he doesn't have favourites but Merry and Pippin remind him of Faramir and him when they were kids.

[sillybeee]

The flaws and postives of dating leon.

cw: angst (substance abuse, etc), mentions of, suicide, substance abuse, erectile dysfunction and sex but never goes into too much detail. ends on a happy note <3 hurt/comfort (?)

Usually I picture older leon so anything having to do with damnation leon and older ^^

The flaws.

──★ substance abuse.

it's no doubt (almost) every leon struggles with using alcohol abuse as a way to cope with his issues. even if he's trying to quit. when he's drunk, he gets irritated easily. he's also really dramatic. and clingy. He's impulsive, and you'll have to scold him constantly when he does something stupid or unsafe. And don't get him wrong, he think you're beautiful, gorgeous, stunning even, but he can't get it up. So expect lazy soft sex with him if you guys have sex at all. Another part is he comes home at late times from drinking at bars at early times of the night. And he's so loud so he wakes you up, you can hear loud bangs, cursing, etc. His drinking also always leads to bed rotting to the point he has food everywhere, and bottles of whatever he wanted at the time scattered on his floor, trash, clothes, it's just bad. On a more postive note, he does quit shortly after the events of vendetta, it takes a lot of convincing himself to go but that leads to another set of challenges, since he's suffering from withdrawal, but during his time quitting, he goes to AA meetings, and therapy to find other things to cope, he even gets a sponser (his name is ken, he loves him), and if it gets really really bad, he'll go to rehab, then a wellness center where the nice nurse ladies will take off him, and he'll play uno with the rest of the depressed people. he honestly loves a hospital setting, he loves feeling taken care of. And as of death island, he'll have been sober for 8 1/2 months. So good for him.

──★ ptsd.

Another thing you might have expected. Leon's life hasn't been cupcakes and rainbows since his parents died. But Racoon city takes the cake for him. In some re6 documents, it talks about leon wanting to commit suicide, but didn't to protect Sherry. After RC, he has nightmares, panic attacks, and sometimes his fears can make him be irrational, like worrying about everyone being the sick, or worrying if his job is watching him to see what he's doing. However, his job makes it easier for him to bottle and mask (autism, hear me out please) his emotions until he's considered "safe", so rarely will he ever act out at his fears, but you can always tell his secretly freaking out. His hands get terribly sweaty, and he always seems to jump at loud noises. But, just you being there is nice to him. He loves being able to see alive, it relaxes him or something. So when you're cuddling, he'll listen to your heartbeat and hearing you breathe. Which eventually helps him fall asleep into an actual peaceful slumber. When it is considered safe to him, he has a meltdown from masking his emotions for too long. He is more sensitive and easily annoyed, and gets overwhelmed by things he normally wouldn't find annoying, like pen clicks, bright lights or his pants feeling weird, like why do jeans feel like that? it's like a mix of burnout and masking coming to him.

── .✦ forgetful.

leon is the perfect boyfriend, who doesn't forget anything. And that is true most of the time, most of the time. He's very present, he knows everything about you, your favorite movies, favorite songs, shows, etc. But he forgets holidays, easily. It's probably his work schedule. He works so much, even on the holidays sometimes, so to him, it feels like a regular day. And he rarely checks calendars. It could be valentine's day, no gift, nothing, and when he realized, he gets now why you're ignoring him and acting so weird. He also forgets chores, rarely ever helps around the house, which is frustrating. Never had to help clean as a kid, cause a nanny or maid always did it for him. He gets irritated on why you're pissed at him for not doing the dishes. Like he did them last saturday! He think he's helping but he isn't. However, if you tell him, you feel overworked with doing everything, he tries doing chores more often on his days off, and you'll come back to a clean house. that won't happen again. sorry.

── .✦ boring and old fashioned.

leon likes mundane things, things most people find boring and unfun, and it will get worse the older he gets. he likes watching the news every morning, waking up and going to bed early, etc, etc. because he's old fashioned. he will have the same phone for years and won't think about changing it until it gets destroyed. he will judge you for getting a new phone even when your old one still works, or "buying something you don't need".

the positives.

──★ attentive.

I'll add more I promise and make a part two!!!

like i said in the forgetful category, he is good at remembering everything you tell him. Just not holidays. But he'll remember everything you tell him, for example, when you're shopping and he sees you stare at something to long. He'll buy it for you, oh you like this flower? Here's a bouquet of them! Oh you like this style of clothes? Here's a store full of them and he will be carrying the bags.

[seasaltandwisdom]

tips for tired hellenic polytheists

new or old

when first researching where to start, it’s very overwhelming with everything you need to do. autism and chronic illness were and still are a major hindrance to everything i do, worship included, not to mention i am still worshipping in secrecy. i was put off from worshipping for a year or so because of this. it doesn’t have to be so daunting, the gods aren’t here to judge how efficient you are in your worship.

starting with altars, you don’t need one, especially not a big elaborate one. they’re gorgeous and one day i aspire to have one, but that’s not ideal or even possible at the moment. if you plan on giving libations you can have a small cup or glass to hold the offering and sit it next to you or in any empty space until you’re ready to discard. same with food items, a small platter works. it doesn’t have to be a dedicated space, they understand your circumstances.

another thing i struggled with was knowing which god or gods to worship. you don’t have to wait for a god to call to you. pray to who you want and who makes you feel comfort and happiness to think about. the gods aren’t going to turn you away. you can start with more than one too. there’s no ‘beginner’ gods, just who you want to start with!

giving offerings doesn’t have to be so complex, especially if you’re worshipping in secret. a big one i do is offer a portion of my food to the gods while i wait for it to cool or find a video to watch. i tell them i’ll eat after and the first bites goes to them. they know if you have limitations, they know i can’t give them food and let it sit and afford to not eat it myself and that’s okay. i also buy a lot of trinkets from various places, if it reminds me of the gods they get to keep it and when i look at it i’ll whisper a small hello.

devotional acts are easiest for me, it’s things i’m already doing or should be doing. taking my meditation/listening to music in honor of apollo. cooking/spending time with family in honor of hestia. watching ocean related videos for poseidon. if it pertains to the gods, devote the act to them and it keeps me on top of things i need to do if i know i devoted it to the gods.

this may be my most controversial section, i don’t do khernips! if you do, more power to you of course. i just don’t have the means, and don’t see much reason for that to stop me from worshipping. i will wash my hands with soap and water before giving an offering, but for regular prayer of just saying hi or talking about my day with the gods, which i usually do in bed or while out and about, i don’t worry about it. they know im human, they aren’t going to shut me down or out for being such. this stopped me for awhile, i couldn’t make khernips so of course i couldn’t worship but truthfully the gods are understanding. even somedays when im too tired, depressed or sick to do anything, i used to feel bad for not being my cleanest while talking to the gods but if i can’t pray when im at such a low point, when can i?

the gods aren’t going to be disrespected or angry at you for praying or offering whilst you’re on your period. yes, i’ve seen that debated. just be clean on human standards, when you can, and they will understand. they’re old and wise, they’ve seen it all.

i’m just rambling at this point so i’ll wrap up soon! coming from christianity, it’s hard to not fear the gods, i get it and most others do too. religious trauma is hard to overstep, if it’s something you struggle with the gods won’t mind if you have to do a few things differently. good luck on your journey, whether new or just continuing. i hope my yapping helped with anything. your faith is personal to you, don’t let others push you away from it. be kind to each other and yourself.

as always, feel free to dm or send an ask if you feel inclined to! my word is just that, don’t take what i say as law and if you do things differently, that’s okay. i’d love to hear about that too!

[haute-pockette]

The Doctor being disabled.

Every incarnation sitting somewhere on the autism spectrum. Their stims and behaviors vary between incarnations.

First doctor with alexithymia. On Gallifrey it was fine, ignored. A "superior race" that prided itself in observation without interference doesn't put too much stalk in compassion. But meeting humans up close with Barbara and Ian started him down a path of learning to put words to his own feelings as well as others.

As his body aged he also developed arthritis. The cane was for mobility as much as it was for style. He learned the hard way that aspirin is not Gallifreyan friendly (he survived the small dose, but it scared the hell out of Susan).

Two with lots of physical stims. All his gestures and wringing his hands, grabbing onto companions.

Dyspraxic Two. Chicken scratch handwriting, stumbling over his words and his feet. He really leans into tactile sensations whether it's the texture of his clothes or holding onto a companion, it was always grounding for him.

Third tended to shut down more than his first two since the constant stress and frustration of exile had him already wound pretty tight. He'll lock himself in the lab and just put himself on autopilot until he recharges enough to deal with whatever shenanigans are happening.

Three has tinnitus that of various sounds including almost like the tardis materialization sound. He often has to look up to check if the Master is showing up to bother him or not.

Four has ADHD alongside with autism. He struggles with constantly running from responsibility and wanting to have some sense of control of situations.

It's one of those snowballs of procrastination causing anxiety which causes him to procrastinate further. Unless it's urgently life threatening, his stress response is freeze.

Five masks and suppresses his emotions in an attempt to blend with neurotypicals more since he's self-conscious of his previous "eccentricity" as Four. It causes a lot of strain between him and Tegan after Earthshock.

Peripheral neuropathy causing muscle weakness in his legs cause of the difficult regeneration. Look how much he falls over and leans on the tardis console, he can't stand straight for long periods of time without aids. Usually has braces, but will use a cane around the tardis (would use the wheelchair but it's dead in the Castrovalva river).

Six gets overstimulated easier than some, especially by noises and textures. Usually that with things not going accordingly tends to set off meltdowns. Ever since he hurt Peri he turns his energy on himself instead.

Bipolar Six. He tends to handle mania better than depression, at least when he has too much energy he knows he can spend it and try to get it out. He'll usually park the tardis somewhere his companion can enjoy and shut himself away in the cloister room or zero room when at the worst of his lows.

Also type 1 diabetic six, regenerating from poison fucked with his metabolism. He is careful to take care of his blood sugar, but he's terrible at remembering to stay hydrated. That's why Mel is always shoving carrot juice at him.

Seven has ADD (yes I know it's technically "ADHD of the predominantly inattentive type" but ADD is easier). ADD as in he's always in his own head, always five points ahead of the conversation. His train of thought is incomprehensible to most, but there is a string of logic to it.

Dyspraxic Seven with an abnormal gait and stance. Bad posture makes him look shorter than he is. Only he can read his own handwriting, which he insists is not as bad as it is.

[lunar-wandering]

anyways as i mentioned earlier here is my absolutely nuts 'analysis' of Boboiboy having autism, and how each of the seven elementals kinda showcase a heightened version of an autism symptom-

so we're gonna go down in order (of manifestation for the elements)-

Boboiboy himself- he's just got the vibe, y'know? But also; it's been established he had no friends prior to moving in with his grandfather, which, y'know, is quite strange for a "normal" kid his age. He also tends to look at the people around him to know how to react in certain social situations (usually the person he looks to is Gopal which. Isn't always the best choice). Also the strong sense of justice is obvious (including that he goes so far as to help villains as well). (Yes this can be an autism symptom).

Halilintar (Thunderstorm). hear me out. Halilintar manifested due to overstimulation. I mean obviously the phobia of balloons is a huge factor here- but being in distress due to loud sounds is exactly one of the things that causes overstimulation for autistic people (could contribute to why he has this fear in the first place). One of the ways people might react to overstimulation is by becoming irrationally angry. Basically what I'm saying is that Halilintar spends most of his time on the edge of a meltdown-

Taufan (Cyclone). autistic joy. listen LISTEN. it's DIFFERENT from other people's joy, okay? a lot of autistic people experience emotions very intensely, it can full out take over you. also as far as i remember (it's been a while) he was the only one who had such an intense reaction to the mood changing potion- sure, the other people who had it were locked in one emotion, but none of them went as wild as he did- because he felt it a lot more intensely.

Gempa (Earthquake). i will admit, i struggled for a moment with Gempa- but honestly i think it's because he is, in my opinion, the one who's the most similar to OG Boboiboy. other than the heightened need to protect, which likely includes the sense of justice, I think Gempa is the one who masks the most out of all the elements. This is also why he seems to be the most neutral element.

Blaze and Ice. I'm doing these two together, because technically, their origin points are from the same thing: Burnout. It's just two very different responses to it. On the one side, Blaze is trying to, ironically enough considering the name, prevent burnout, by relieving stress (by doing things in the middle of night while no-one is looking and there's no pressure of social interaction). When there is too much stress, he falls into an overstimulated state similar to Halilintar's. On the other side, Ice represents the more depressed side of burnout- aka what happens after you actually burn out. It's why he's tired all the time.

Duri (Thorn). Okay so technically Thorn first manifested in battle but we're ignoring that. His tier 1 manifestation, as we all know, was mainly most definitely because Boboiboy got a concussion- but! Here's the thing; I don't think the concussion is why Thorn acts the way he does (though it's probably a part of it). I think, Thorn is just unmasked. The others all mask on some level, but Thorn just, doesn't. He doesn't really care how others might perceive him if he does 'childish' things or says things that no-one else understands because they didn't make the same connections he did, and he certainly doesn't care that deadpan telling someone their outfit is terrible might hurt their feelings, it doesn't even occur to him. He doesn't mask at all.

Solar. Again, technically manifested during battle. However once again we are ignoring that. It was established that the manifest condition for Solar (as Light), was for the elemental master (Boboiboy) to "expand their knowledge", and "read more". And, well, I know Boboiboy specifically read a bunch of science and history books and stuff, but honestly I don't think it really would've mattered what he chose to use to expand his knowledge, because Solar's main autistic trait is special interest. Because Boboiboy mainly focused on science and stuff, that became Solar's special interest, hence why he rambles off about formulas and stuff, and why he likes doing experiments. He hyperfixates on that stuff.

now. i could do the fusions... but honestly i haven't thought about the fusions enough to draw conclusions, so we're sticking with this

[choco-reblogs-stuff-aaaa]

OK OK OK OK OK people talk about sniper, or pyro, or medic being autistic right?

B u t

What if I told you all of them are?

Every single one.

Engineer? He's autistic. Soldier? Autistic. Frickin Spy?? Omgsh he's so autistic

So because my brain won't stop itching about this I'm going to write up a collection of all the evidence I have for why the TF2 mercenaries possess within their beings the big tism. By the time this is over y'all are going to be very sick of the word autism.

But IDC

So without further ado, let's go through each of these silly mercs one at a time:

Scout:

Alright, first up we got Scout. Scout I would consider to be AuDHD for multiple reasons

The ADHD is more obvious but like dude trust me he's autistic too

He's hyperactive, forgetful, gets distracted easily, kind of the basic stereotypical ADHD stuff you would notice immediately. He stims, he fidgets, he struggles in social situations, he's seen as over the top and a bit annoying, he talks a lot

Now a lot of these traits are things that are common for both autistics and adhders. But I wanna point out some things I notice about him that are autism specific

He has a special interest: It's Tom Jones. Honestly he probably has a special interest about baseball too

But I mean c'mon he's literally has a Tom Jones tattoo

You could argue this is just a hyperfixation but I bet it's been going on for a while

He also has "spikey" skills. Really good at stuff like drawing, dancing, sports, but he sucks at things like reading, math, etc

Mostly what makes me see him as autistic it's how he struggles in social situations. Bro doesn't know how to flirt unless he's got a bucket of chicken on hand

Soldier:

Honestly if anyone's autistic coded it's soldier

Special interest is all things American, especially if it relates to the military

Lots of autistic people wear certain items that remind them of something they like, usually disregarding things like how it looks or even whether or not it's comfortable. Soldier's helmet is way too big for him but he's almost always wearing it anyway

In meet the spy he does "hut hut hut" when he's doing down the stairs and it makes me so happy

He has no filter, he takes things really literally, he often sees suggestions as orders (teleporting bread anyone?)

Also when he says he's been doing nothing but teleport bread for 3 days it makes me think he must've been hyperfocused on that

I don't think he knows anything about volume control since he's yelling everything

What kind of neurotypical fights bears in Siberia while naked and covered in honey

He speaks his mind rather than beating around the bush

His helmet could also double as helping him avoid eye contact

Pyro:

Tell me they don't have aversion to like every texture besides their suit you can't

A lot of their animations are super stimmy

Pretty much nonspeaking

Has childish interests

Could also have schizophrenia? (I'm relatively uninformed about it tho so I might not be a good person to judge)

I bet half of their little mmph mmmph noises are audio stims

Special interest is fire

their stim is ARSON

Demo:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too

I mean tbf a lot of how he is is more related to alcoholism but shhh let me have this

But I mean he made friends with Soldier

Special interest in medieval weapons which would explain why he's crazy about swords?

Drinking could be an unhealthy coping mechanism/safe food

Probably also depressed with how he can never live up to his family's expectations

Infodumping about bombs in his introduction video

Honestly most of my "evidence" for him is just fanon but idc I like autistic Demoman

Heavy:

Whether or not him having a PhD in Russian literature is canon, some of his in game lines show him to be very poetic and thoughtful

The fact that he only has a few food items but always seems super happy to be eating them gives me safe food vibes

He sings and hums a lot, probably as a stim

He has the Resting Autism Face™

Special interest in his gun

A lot of his voice lines also just feel really stimmy to me, especially when he's doing the "YATATATATATA" thing

Not sure he has any volume control either

Seems to genuinely enjoy Medic's morbid stories, at least to a point

He really really really really really likes the song of the Volga boatmen in particular

He's the prettiest princess it's canon, you can't be a pretty princess without being autistic /j

He has a tiny bed for Sasha. HE HAS A TINY BED FOR SASHA

Heavy is often criticized as a class because guess gameplay is relatively simple and can become a little stale for a lot of people. Yet Heavy seems to have some of the most excited voice lines in the game. I feel like this emphasizes how much he thrives in routine, since he seemingly never gets bored of just doing his thing

Engie:

He has 11 phds

A lot of his voice lines also sound really stimmy to me. Either he's going YEEHAWW GIDDY UP or he's yelling DAMNIT DAGNABIT DANGIT DAGGIT NABBIT

Probably a lot of echolalia with that too

He humanizes his buildings and cares for them like a mother bird

Just listen to his genuinely heartbroken when his sentry gets taken down!

When playing Engie sometimes I find myself smacking stuff with my wrench even though I KNOW it's already level 3 and maxed and whatnot, or I KNOW I'm out of metal, just because I wanna hear the clang noise. So this point is just me projecting but I love the mental image of Engie giving his things a few extra whacks too

He sawed off his arm for his special interest

His whole monologue in meet the engineer is so autistic sounding to me

His dancing taunt also feels stimmy

He's always hunched over, implying irregular posture

He's a NERD—

Man of many talents including playing the guitar

Never takes those goggles off

How does he turn a stressful TF2 match into a (not so) relaxing tower defense game?

Medic:

I headcanon him as AuDHD too because he seems really scatterbrained and it feels like he's working on several things at once and always

He talks a LOT. definitely an infodumper

Either he's super stern or really giggly, there is no in between

He wears gloves in battle but not while doing surgery??? Does he just like organ textures??? Wacko

Special interest is obviously whatever the heck kinda of mad science he does

Here's a heavy medic headcanon I have: medic likes deep pressure hugs

Another special interest could be his birds

He's very spontaneous which makes me think AuDHD even more

Look how excited he gets when taking about the tumors in expiration date!

He got the organ stealing autism

Is it just me or does he fixate on baboon organs in particular???

Sniper:

I'm pretty sure all of you know why this man is autistic but I'm going to list some reasons here anyway

My main evidence tho are his Halloween voice lines: https://youtu.be/2WDljNAslys?si=JP25VOGGDWwwoCI7

Exhibit a, look how much he enjoys having an owl head

Exhibit b, lots of those voice lines make him sound really freakin' overstimulated

He probably wears the hat and shades for sensory reasons as well as because they look cool

Obviously the most socially reclusive of the mercs

I love his backstory where he learns he never felt like the other kids because he wasn't actually Australian, but what if he also didn't fit in with the other kids because he's autistic?

Also throwing rocks at people as a kid screams autism to me

No neurotypical would ever throw jars of his own piss at you either

I think he just wants to live in the woods somewhere and never come back to society and honestly that's based

I feel like he would be the type to bite his own arm when stressed (just like me fr 😭)

Extremely meticulous in following his own life rules (ie being professional and having standards, driving safely with the turn signal and everything)

Spy:

Ok just hear me out for this one

Smoking because stim reasons

He's literally and figuratively masking

He's very suave and probably really good with social things, but I feel like it looks like he's just practiced really hard, again MASKING

Who knows he might not even actually be French

Who collects photographic evidence for a ur mom joke

I see him as either being hypersensitive or hyper insensitive to pain depending on the day (his screams + "I do believe I'm on fire.")

Mad butterfly knife tricks as a stim? (Notice he couldn't help but fiddle with them even disguised as scout in meet the spy)

He sucks at dealing with relationships and that's one of the reasons he's a bad dad

He actually really cares about his team and you can see it especially in expiration date but he's not very good at expressing it

Do you think he wears the ski mask for sensory reasons too?

Probably has his suits tailored to not give him any sensory issues, which could be another reason he likes them so much

Believe me I could go on but I think this is enough to get my point across

THEY ARE ALL AUTISTIC >:00

[aacalienz]

Not all level 1 autistic people have low support needs.

Even if someone’s autism doesn’t cause significant problems for someone to do basic activities of daily living, live independently, or maintain safe behaviors, another condition might.

I’m autistic. My level when I was diagnosed at 17 (I’m 21 now) was level 1. While I don’t feel like this is entirely accurate to how my autism affects me now it’s still my diagnosis.

But I have other things going on with me. I have severe depression that has resulted in multiple hospitalizations. I think like 7? in the last 3 years. My mental illness is so severe that I am frequently at risk of being hospitalized, and when I am hospitalized it’s usually for a week or longer instead of the normal 5-7 days. I’m worried if I can’t stay out of the hospital for longer periods they might recommend a residential placement, but luckily that hasn’t been on the table yet.

I get to the point where I get nervous sharing my autism level publicly online because I get nervous people will think I’m low support needs. But that isn’t my reality. I’m definitely not high support needs. I don’t need constant care and can do all my every day hygiene without any physical support. But there’s a lot I can’t do.

I can’t live independently without being hospitalized within 1-2 months. I can’t maintain employment without severe mental decline leading to hospitalization. I can’t maintain safe behaviors like not hurting myself for long periods of time. I can’t manage my own medication because of safety risks. I can’t keep my space clean. My ptsd is so bad that often times I can’t say no with my mouth. I am eligible for home and community based services. Which in my state requires that a person needs a nursing home level of care.

There’s a lot of things that I can do. And I’m very grateful for that. I’m nowhere near the most disabled. But when people compare me to people who can live on their own and mask and work without completely breaking down I just feel like I can never measure up. My life feels like it’s not amounting to as much as other level 1 autistic people my age and I feel like it’s because I’m not good enough or trying hard enough.

But there are lots of disabilities than can cause a person to have severe problems with independent living and daily activities. A person who is mostly bedbound due to a physical disability doesn’t have low support needs just because they aren’t autistic or are level 1. A person with severe mental illness who is living in a group home or state hospital doesn’t have low support needs.

I think in the autistic community including the medium and high support needs autistic community we need to take into consideration other disabilities more when we think about who needs which levels of support. Just because someone doesn’t need lots of support with their autism specifically doesn’t mean they don’t need lots of support in general or with our other disabilities.

[brnbeexx]

Jeong Yoonchae — UNDERSTAND.

Y/N moved to a quiet town, carrying the weight of loss and loneliness. She found comfort in silence and a hidden flower field behind the university. Then came Yoonchae — gentle, patient, and warm.

Warnings Before Reading: This story contains heavy themes of depression, grief, loneliness, and mental health struggles, mentions of verbal and emotional bullying, depictions of self-harm and suicide. Y/N (you) has autism. Please read with care, and if you are struggling, consider reaching out for support.

A/N: Hey, guys. This is my first time writing angst with a heavy theme like this, so I hope it's at least good to read. Not proofread!!

I liked sitting in the front.

It wasn’t about wanting to stand out — far from it. Up here, the noise wasn’t as bad. The shuffle of papers, the constant tapping of pens, the low murmur of conversations… it all faded when I focused on the professor’s voice. The board was clear. The lectures were easier to follow. No one stared at me. No one whispered behind my back.

I could almost pretend I was invisible.

As the professor wrapped up the lecture, I kept my head down, carefully slipping my notebook into my bag. Around me, the usual chaos unfolded: chairs scraping against the floor, hurried footsteps, laughter that felt too loud, conversations that blurred into one endless hum. I waited. I always waited until most of the class emptied out — fewer eyes on me that way.

I had just slung my bag over my shoulder when I felt it.

A touch. Soft. Barely there. But it made me freeze.

My breath caught, heart racing. I turned sharply, wide eyes landing on someone standing close behind me.

There was a girl.

Red hair — almost fox-like — tied back in a loose ponytail. Her face was soft, her brown eyes warm, but her expression was nervous. She shifted on her feet, biting her lip as if she wasn’t sure she should’ve touched me.

I stared. I didn’t recognize her. Had she been sitting behind me this whole time? Probably. I never looked back.

“Hi,” she said quietly, almost like she was testing the word.

I swallowed, fingers curling into the strap of my bag.

“Hi.” My voice came out smaller than I intended. The girl hesitated, glancing toward the door before looking back at me.

“I, um… I’ve noticed you in class.”

My stomach twisted. Noticed me?

She rushed to explain. “You always sit up here. You’re really quiet.” Her eyes darted away, like she realized how that sounded. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I just… I thought maybe you’d want someone to talk to. Or… I don’t know, sit with.”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. My mind felt sluggish, struggling to process the sudden shift in my routine. People didn’t talk to me. Or at least, they weren’t supposed to.

“I’m Chaeryeong.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I talk a lot when I’m nervous. Or when I meet quiet people. I don’t know why.” She laughed softly, but the sound faded quickly into silence.

I shifted my weight, fingers gripping the strap of my bag tighter. My mouth felt dry. I should say something. Anything. But the words wouldn’t come.

Chaeryeong rocked on her heels, glancing at the door. “Do you… maybe want to walk with me?”

I hesitated. The thought of walking across campus with a stranger made my chest tighten. But there was something about the way she stood there — fidgeting with her sleeves, eyes darting to the floor — that made me pause.

She looked as nervous as I felt.

“…Yeah.” The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Her face lit up with a surprised smile, and before I knew it, we were walking side by side, her words filling the silence I usually carried everywhere.

“So,” Chaeryeong began, hugging her bag to her chest. "You’re, uh… really good at taking notes."

I blinked. "What?"

She chuckled awkwardly. "I sit behind you, and I kind of peek at your notes sometimes. You write everything down. Like, everything. It’s impressive."

My face warmed. I kept my eyes on the ground. "Oh."

She glanced at me. "Do you… mind if I borrow them sometime? I’m pretty bad at keeping up."

I hesitated. Sharing my notes felt… personal. Like handing over a piece of myself. But Chaeryeong looked hopeful, her expression soft.

“…Okay.”

Her smile was wide and genuine. "Really? Thank you! You’re a lifesaver."

I shrugged, shifting my bag on my shoulder. The campus stretched out ahead of us, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. Chaeryeong kept talking — about classes, professors, the cafeteria food — and I listened quietly, occasionally nodding or offering a soft "yeah" or "mm-hmm."

She didn’t seem to mind my silence. If anything, it only made her talk more, filling the empty spaces I usually struggled to fill.

When we reached the courtyard, she hesitated. "Hey… do you want to sit for a bit?"

I glanced at the benches. They were mostly empty, save for a couple of students chatting nearby. The idea of sitting in the open made my chest tighten, but Chaeryeong’s gaze was hopeful. “…Okay.” We sat in silence for a while. She fiddled with her sleeves, and I stared at the ground, counting the cracks in the pavement. The wind was soft, carrying the faint scent of flowers from somewhere nearby.

After a while, she spoke again. "I’m glad I talked to you."

I looked at her, surprised. "Why?"

She smiled softly, her gaze distant. "I don’t know. You just… seemed like you needed a friend."

My throat tightened. I looked away, swallowing thickly. "Oh."

For the first time in a long while, the silence between me and someone else didn’t feel so heavy.

The days slipped by quietly after that.

Chaeryeong started waiting for me after class. It wasn’t something we talked about — she’d just appear at my side, red hair catching the sunlight, eyes soft with a quiet kind of understanding. She never pushed. Never asked too much. She’d talk about her day, her favorite foods, how she wished she had more time to sleep.

And I’d listen.

Sometimes, I’d nod. Sometimes, I’d hum softly in response. But most of the time, I let the silence settle between us, warm and unspoken.

One afternoon, about a week after we first met, we found ourselves at the campus café. Chaeryeong had insisted on buying me a coffee, despite my quiet protests. She plopped into the chair across from me, her cup cradled in both hands.

“So,” she began, voice soft. “You’re… not from here, right?”

I stiffened slightly. “…No.”

She tilted her head, eyes curious but careful. “Where are you from?”

I hesitated, fingers curling around my cup. The words felt heavy on my tongue, but when I glanced up, Chaeryeong was watching me patiently. There was no rush. No expectation. “Hawaii,” I finally said.

Her eyes widened. “Whoa. That’s… far.” She took a sip of her drink, thoughtful. “What made you come all the way here?”

I looked down at my coffee. The steam curled upward, blurring my reflection. “It’s… complicated.”

Chaeryeong nodded slowly. “Complicated’s okay.”

The silence stretched. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t easy. It never was. But Chaeryeong just sat there, waiting. “…My parents,” I whispered, barely audible. “They… they passed away.”

Her breath hitched. “Oh.” She set her cup down gently. “I’m so sorry.”

I nodded, staring at the dark liquid in my cup. The memories pressed against my chest, heavy and suffocating. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. My grandma couldn’t take care of me. So… I came here.”

Chaeryeong was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, she said, “That must’ve been really hard.”

My throat tightened. I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

She didn’t push. She didn’t say it would get better. She just sat there, quietly sipping her coffee, offering nothing but her presence. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel quite so alone.

After that, things got… easier.

Chaeryeong became a constant in my life — a soft presence in a world that felt too loud, too overwhelming. She walked with me to class. She made sure I ate lunch. She even dragged me to the library once, insisting I needed a “study buddy.”

And slowly — slowly — I started to open up.

It wasn’t much. Just small things. Little pieces of myself I’d kept locked away.

“I like quiet places,” I told her once, as we sat beneath a tree on campus.

Chaeryeong had smiled. “Me too.” Another time, she asked what my favorite color was. “Blue,” I said softly. “Like the ocean.” She grinned, eyes crinkling. “That suits you.”

Every day, she chipped away at the walls I’d built around myself. And before I knew it, she was the closest thing I had to a friend.

One afternoon, as we walked across campus, she hesitated. “Hey… can I ask you something?”

I glanced at her, curious. “Sure.”

She bit her lip, eyes darting away. “You said you don’t have anywhere to go. Where are you staying?”

I stiffened. “I, um… I have a place.”

Her brow furrowed. “Where?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “…A hostel.”

Her eyes widened. “A hostel? Are you serious?”

I shrugged, hugging my bag tighter. “It’s cheap.”

She frowned. “But is it safe?”

I hesitated. “It’s… fine.”

Chaeryeong fell silent. I could feel her staring at me, the weight of her gaze heavy against my skin. Finally, she let out a soft breath.

“You should stay with me.”

I blinked. “What?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking away. “I live in a house off-campus. It’s rented to college students. I live with my friend Sophia, but we’ve been looking for a third roommate. Our schedules are different, so we’re barely home at the same time.” She shifted awkwardly. “It’d be nice to have someone around.” I stared at her.

“I… I can’t.”

“Why not?”

I swallowed, heart racing. “I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Chaeryeong frowned. “You wouldn’t be.”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know Sophia.” She smiled softly. “She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

I hesitated. The thought of living with strangers — of disrupting their lives — made my chest tighten. But the hostel… it was cold. Lonely. And the idea of having a place to belong, even for a little while, was tempting.

“…Are you sure?” I whispered.

Chaeryeong beamed. “Positive.”

And just like that, my life changed.

Moving in felt surreal.

Chaeryeong insisted on helping me pack my things — though "pack" was a generous term for stuffing my clothes into an old duffel bag and piling my few belongings into a worn-out backpack. Everything I owned fit into two bags. Chaeryeong didn’t say anything about that. She just smiled softly and grabbed the duffel, leading the way toward her house.

The walk was quiet, save for the soft crunch of our footsteps on the pavement. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the narrow streets. I kept my head down, fingers gripping the strap of my backpack tightly.

I don’t know what I expected when we reached the house. Maybe something small and cramped, barely holding itself together. But the house in front of me was… nice. It was a little weathered, with chipped paint and a creaky gate, but it had character. The kind of place that felt lived in. Safe.

“Here we are,” Chaeryeong said, pushing open the gate.

I hesitated on the sidewalk, staring up at the house. The windows glowed softly against the evening sky, and I could hear faint laughter drifting from inside. My chest tightened.

What am I doing here? Chaeryeong glanced over her shoulder, eyes softening. “Come on,” she urged gently.

I swallowed thickly and forced my legs to move. The front door creaked as Chaeryeong pushed it open, stepping aside to let me in first. I hovered in the doorway, clutching my bag, heart pounding against my ribs.

The house smelled faintly of vanilla and something floral. The entryway opened into a cozy living room, where mismatched furniture crowded around a low coffee table. String lights hung along the walls, casting a warm, golden glow across the space. It felt… homey.

“Hey! You’re back.”

I jumped, eyes snapping toward the voice. A girl stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder, and her full lips curled into a soft smile. She moved with a kind of quiet grace, like she belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Sophia.

Chaeryeong beamed. “Sophia, this is Y/N. She’s the friend I told you about.”

Sophia’s gaze shifted to me, warm and curious. “Hey.”

I ducked my head, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. “Uh– Hi.”

Her smile softened. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Sophia didn’t say anything else. She just watched me for a moment before turning back to the kitchen, where a teapot whistled softly on the stove. The quiet felt comfortable, like an old blanket draped over my shoulders.

Chaeryeong led me down a narrow hallway, past a bathroom and another bedroom, until we reached the last door at the end. She pushed it open, revealing a small but cozy room. The walls were bare, the bed neatly made with soft gray blankets. A window overlooked the backyard, where the sky burned orange and pink in the fading sunlight.

“This will be your room,” Chaeryeong said softly.

I stepped inside, the floor creaking beneath my feet. The air felt still, almost reverent. I set my bags down slowly, fingers lingering on the worn fabric.

“It’s nice,” I whispered.

Chaeryeong smiled. “I’m glad you think so.” She hesitated for a moment, shifting on her feet. “If you need anything… I’m right down the hall.”

I nodded, swallowing the tightness in my throat. “Okay.”

She lingered for a moment longer before quietly closing the door behind her. I stood there in the silence, the weight of the day pressing against my chest. Slowly, I sank onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath me.

The house creaked softly around me. Distant laughter floated through the walls. I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of my new home.

The next few days passed quietly.

Chaeryeong and Sophia kept their distance, never pushing me to talk or join them. But they were there. Every morning, Chaeryeong would knock softly on my door before class, offering a quiet “Good morning” before leading me to campus. Every evening, Sophia would make tea, leaving a cup outside my door with a gentle knock.

It was… nice.

I still kept to myself, of course. Old habits die hard. But slowly — slowly — I started to let my guard down.

One night, I found myself in the kitchen, fumbling with the kettle. The house was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. As I reached for a mug, I heard a soft voice behind me.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

I jumped, nearly dropping the mug. Sophia stood in the doorway, her dark eyes soft in the dim light. I shook my head, staring down at the kettle. “No.”

She nodded, stepping into the kitchen. “Me neither.”

We stood there in silence as the kettle hissed softly. Sophia leaned against the counter, watching me carefully. “I’m glad you moved in,” she said quietly.

I blinked, glancing at her. “You are?”

She smiled softly. “Yeah. It’s nice having someone else around.”

I looked down at my hands, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. “Thanks,” I whispered.

Sophia didn’t say anything else. She just poured herself a cup of tea and padded back down the hallway, leaving me alone in the quiet.

I slept a little easier.

As the days turned into weeks, the house began to feel less like a place I was crashing and more like… home. Chaeryeong was a constant presence — bright and gentle, always knowing when to talk and when to sit quietly. Sophia was more reserved, but there was a quiet kindness to her that made me feel safe. And slowly, the weight in my chest began to ease.

I still had bad days. Days when the world felt too loud, too overwhelming. Days when the memories of my parents pressed against my ribs, suffocating me. But on those days, Chaeryeong would sit beside me, quietly holding my hand. And Sophia would leave a cup of tea outside my door, no questions asked. For the first time in a long time… I started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could belong somewhere.

The house was quiet that evening.

The soft hum of the refrigerator filled the silence as I stood in the kitchen, staring down at the chipped mug in my hands. The tea inside had long gone cold, but I didn’t really care. The weight of the day pressed against my chest — heavy, suffocating. Classes had been especially difficult. The professor spoke too fast, the other students whispered too loudly, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed like a swarm of angry bees.

By the time I got home, my body ached with the kind of exhaustion that had nothing to do with sleep.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, fingers tightening around the mug. The house felt different tonight. There was a hum of energy beneath the quiet, like the air before a storm. Voices drifted down the hallway — soft laughter, the clink of dishes. I should’ve gone back to my room. It was safer there. Quieter. But before I could move, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hey.”

I turned, heart leaping into my throat. Sophia stood in the doorway, dark eyes soft in the dim light. She tilted her head slightly, taking in the tension in my shoulders. “You okay?”

I gulped, glancing down at my hands. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment before she nodded slowly. “Dinner’s ready. The girls are here.” My stomach clenched. I opened my mouth to make an excuse — I’m not hungry. I’m tired. I’ll eat later — but Sophia just smiled softly, like she could hear every word I wasn’t saying.

“Come sit with us,” she said quietly.

I swallowed thickly, fingers curling around the edge of the counter. Every instinct screamed at me to run back to my room, but something about the warmth in her voice made me hesitate.

“…Okay.”

Sophia led me down the hallway, her footsteps soft against the worn wooden floor. The living room glowed with warm, golden light. A mismatched collection of pillows and blankets was strewn across the floor, and the coffee table groaned under the weight of various dishes.

There were six girls sprawled across the couch and floor, laughter bubbling up between them like champagne. Chaeryeong sat cross-legged on the rug, hands moving animatedly as she spoke. Beside her, a girl with brown skin and a cascade of braided curls laughed, tossing her head back. Another girl, tall and.. Oh, a ginger! She perched on the arm of the couch, her dark eyes watching the conversation with amusement.

A redhead sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, while another girl with soft, dark and blonde curls leaned against the wall, lips curled into a quiet smile. Cute dimples.

The room felt alive — buzzing with energy and warmth. I hovered in the doorway, frozen in place.

“Hey!” Chaeryeong beamed, waving me over. “Come sit!”

Every pair of eyes turned to me. My heart leaped into my throat, but Chaeryeong patted the spot beside her, smiling softly. Slowly, I made my way across the room and sank onto the rug, pulling my knees to my chest.

“Everyone, this is Y/N,” Chaeryeong said, gesturing to me. “Y/N, these are the girls.”

They all greeted me at once, their voices overlapping in a soft, friendly chorus. My chest tightened. I ducked my head, fingers curling into the fabric of my jeans.

The girl with dark curls leaned forward, her eyes warm and curious. “I’m Manon.” She smiled, her accent lilting softly in the air. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Nice to meet you too.”

Manon’s smile widened. She opened her mouth to say something else, but the ginger one cut her off.

“I’m Megan.” Her voice was soft, almost musical. She tilted her head slightly, studying me. “Are you from around here?”

I shook my head. “No. I… moved here for school.”

Megan nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Cool.”

The redhead — Lara, I think — gave me a soft smile. “Welcome.”

I offered a small smile in return, the tightness in my chest easing slightly. The girls returned to their conversation, the sound washing over me like a gentle tide. I sat quietly, listening to their laughter and stories, slowly letting the warmth of the room seep into my brain.

2AM, probably. The house was quiet.

Not the comforting kind of quiet — the kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket, lulling you into peace. No, this quiet was heavy. Suffocating. It pressed against my ears and made my own heartbeat sound deafening. Every creak of the old wooden floors, every distant car driving past, every rustle of the leaves outside felt magnified against the silence.

The others had gone to sleep hours ago. The soft murmur of voices and laughter had faded, leaving behind only shadows and the occasional groan of the house settling into the night. I should have been asleep too, but instead, I stood in the kitchen, staring at the dark window above the sink. My reflection stared back, pale and ghostly in the moonlight. The kettle whistled softly, the sound cutting through the quiet. I turned off the stove and poured the hot water over the tea bag in my mug, watching as the dark tendrils of tea swirled into the water. The steam rose in lazy curls, fogging the glass. I wrapped my hands around the ceramic, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.

The clock on the wall ticked softly.

Tick.

Tack.

Tick.

I shifted my weight, the floor creaking beneath my feet. The sound echoed through the silence, sharp and sudden. I winced.

“You okay?”

The voice was soft, barely above a whisper. My heart leapt into my throat, and I spun around, almost dropping my tea in the process. Lara stood in the doorway, her red hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes soft with sleep. She wore an oversized hoodie, the sleeves swallowing her hands, and a pair of shorts that barely peeked out from underneath. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the silence stretching between us. Then she stepped into the kitchen, moving with a quiet grace that made her footsteps barely audible. “Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “You?”

She hummed softly, crossing the room to open a cabinet. “Same.” She pulled out a mug and filled it with water before popping it into the microwave. The soft hum filled the silence, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t alone.

I shifted awkwardly, fingers curling tighter around my cup. I wasn’t sure what to say. Lara had always felt… distant. Not in a cold way, but in a quiet, observant kind of way. Like she saw everything but chose to keep it to herself.

The microwave beeped, and Lara pulled out her mug, cradling it in her hands as she leaned against the counter. For a long moment, we stood in silence, the only sound the ticking clock and the quiet hum of the refrigerator.

Then she spoke.

“Do you miss home?”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked, fingers tightening around my cup. “I… yeah.” I swallowed thickly. “A lot.”

Lara nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “I get that.” She took a sip of her tea, the steam curling around her face. “When I first moved here, I felt… lost. Like I was floating in this space that didn’t belong to me.” She glanced at me, her dark eyes soft. “You ever feel like that?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Every day.” My voice cracked slightly. “It’s like… I’m here, but I’m not really here. Everything moves too fast. People talk too loud. And I just… I don’t know.” My throat tightened. “Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning.”

Lara was quiet for a long moment. Then she set her mug down and slid onto one of the kitchen stools, tucking her legs beneath her. “I know what you mean,” she said softly. “When I first moved in with the girls, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. They all seemed so… close, you know? Like they had this bond that I couldn’t understand.” She glanced down at her hands. “It took me a while to realize that it wasn’t about fitting in. It was about finding the spaces where I belonged.”

I swallowed, the weight in my chest easing slightly. “Did you ever find it?”

Lara smiled softly, eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. “Yeah. I did.” She hesitated, then added, “It took me a long time, though. And… I didn’t do it alone.”

I tilted my head slightly. “What do you mean?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “There was someone who helped me. Someone who… understood what it felt like to be invisible.” Her gaze softened. “Her name is Yoonchae.”

The name hung in the air, soft and unfamiliar. I shifted slightly, curiosity prickling at the edges of my mind. “Who is she?”

Lara hesitated, her fingers curling around her mug. “She’s… quiet. Kind. The kind of person who notices things other people don’t.” She smiled softly. “When I first moved here, I felt like I was drowning. But Yoonchae… she saw me. Even when I didn’t want to be seen.”

Something about the way Lara spoke made my chest ache. I shifted slightly, staring down at my tea. “She sounds… nice.”

“She is.” Lara’s smile faded slightly, her gaze distant. “She’s been through a lot, though. More than most people realize.” She glanced at me, her dark eyes searching mine. “She doesn’t let many people in. But when she does… it’s different. She makes you feel like you’re not alone.”

I swallowed thickly, the weight in my chest pressing heavier. “That sounds… nice.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Then Lara reached across the counter, her fingers curling gently around mine. The warmth of her touch seeped into my skin, grounding me.

“You’re not alone either, you know,” she said softly.

I blinked, the words settling into my chest like a soft weight.

The living room buzzed with energy. Laughter spilled into the air, loud and unrestrained, filling every corner of the house. The coffee table was a chaotic battlefield of board game pieces, scattered cards, and half-empty snack bags. Somewhere in the background, music hummed softly from a speaker, mixing with the occasional beep and boop of the Nintendo Switch in my hands.

I sat curled up on the far end of the couch, my knees pulled to my chest, Switch resting against my legs. The game on my screen demanded my full attention — or at least, that’s what I told myself. Really, it was easier to focus on the tiny characters running across my screen than to brave the whirlwind of noise around me.

“HA! Eat dust, bitches!” Megan’s voice cut through the chaos, triumphant and loud. I glanced up just in time to see her dramatically slam a card onto the board, her ginger hair bouncing as she shot up from her seat. “I told you I was good at this.”

Manon groaned, slumping against Sophia. “You cheated.”

Sophia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “She didn’t cheat. You just suck.”

“Traitor,” Manon muttered.

Daniela was stretched out across the armchair, legs dangling over the side. She popped a chip into her mouth, watching the game with disinterest. “This game’s boring.” She yawned, loud and exaggerated. “Let’s play something else.”

“Like what?” Lara asked, raising a brow. She shuffled the cards in her hands, her dark eyes scanning the group. “We’ve already played three different games tonight.”

Daniela shrugged. “Girl, I dunno. Something more fun.”

As the group fell into a argument over what to play next, I kept my eyes locked on my Switch, fingers moving automatically over the buttons. The noise felt like a distant hum, a blurry wall of sound that I could almost pretend wasn’t there. Almost.

“Hey.”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant. I flinched slightly, my grip tightening around my console. Slowly, I glanced up — and found myself staring into a pair of dark, curious eyes. She was sitting across the room, cross-legged on the floor. I hadn’t even noticed her there before. Actually? I've never even seen her before in my life, but I'm sure she was there one of the nights the girls came over. Her dark hair fell around her face in soft waves, the corners of her lips tugged into the slightest hint of a smile.

I blinked, gripping my Switch a little tighter. “…Hi.”

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment. “What’re you playing?”

“Uh… Stardew Valley.” My voice came out quieter than I intended, barely above a whisper.

Her eyes lit up. “No way! I love that game.” She scooted a little closer, peering at my screen. “What year are you in?”

“Three.” I shifted slightly, angling the console so she could see. “I’m trying to complete the Community Center.”

She grinned. “Nice. Who’d you marry?”

“No one.” I shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

She laughed softly, a sound so light and airy it made my chest feel strangely warm. “Tough choice. They’re all kinda weird.”

“Yeah.” I bit my lip, glancing at her from the corner of my eye. She was still watching my screen, her expression soft and relaxed. Something about it made my heart thud a little faster.

“Do you… wanna play something together?” she asked, her voice careful. “We could do a co-op farm or something.”

I hesitated. My fingers curled tighter around my Switch, heart pounding painfully in my chest. The words got stuck in my throat, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

She must’ve noticed my hesitation because she quickly added, “No pressure. I just thought… y’know. It could be fun.”

I swallowed, forcing myself to nod. “Maybe… later.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “Cool.” She leaned back on her hands, tilting her head toward the others. “They’re kinda loud, huh?”

I let out a soft breath of laughter. “Yeah.”

For a while, we just sat there. She didn’t try to force the conversation, didn’t fill the silence with unnecessary words. She just… sat with me. Quiet and calm.

Eventually, the others decided on another game — some kind of trivia thing that quickly devolved into shouting and playful insults. I stayed curled up in my corner, quietly playing my game. But every now and then, I’d glance across the room… and find her still sitting there.

Watching.

The night dragged on. One by one, the others started heading to bed, leaving the living room a little quieter. I was still on the couch, my Switch screen casting a soft glow across my face.

I didn’t notice her until she sat down beside me. “Hey.” Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

I blinked, startled. “Oh. Hi.”

She hesitated, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I was thinking… tomorrow’s supposed to be nice. Wanna go to the beach?”

I stared at her. “The beach?”

She nodded. “Yeah. It’s not far. Just thought it might be nice. Y’know… get some air.”

I hesitated, fingers tightening around my Switch. “I don't know…”

“Please?” She tilted her head, her dark eyes soft and hopeful. “I’ll bring snacks.”

I chewed on my lip, staring down at my lap. The thought of being alone with her — of having to talk — made my stomach twist into knots. But… something about the way she looked at me, soft and patient, made me hesitate.

“Okay.” My voice was barely audible.

Her face lit up, a small, delighted smile spreading across her lips. “Really?”

I nodded, cheeks burning. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” She grinned. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

I watched as she stood, stretching her arms over her head. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow, okay?”

“…Okay.”

She hesitated for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something else. But then she just smiled again, soft and sweet, and disappeared down the hall.

I sat there for a long time, staring at the empty room. My heart was still pounding in my chest.

The walk to the beach feels different from everything else. It’s early in the morning, the sky a muted gray-blue, with the air still heavy with the coolness of the night. There’s a softness in the way the world seems to be holding its breath. I’m not entirely sure why I agreed to come. Yoonchae had asked me with that gentle, quiet smile of hers, and something in the way she looked at me made me want to say yes. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I know that part of me felt like I needed this.

I try to keep my distance from everyone most of the time. It’s easier that way. Less chance of being hurt. I’ve gotten so used to my routine of being alone, keeping to myself, that the thought of spending time with others always feels like a challenge. But this is different. There’s something about Yoonchae that’s different.

We walk in silence, our footsteps crunching softly in the sand beneath our shoes. The ocean sounds like it’s whispering, the waves rolling gently in as if coaxing us to listen. I find myself glancing sideways at Yoonchae every now and then, but I keep my gaze mostly ahead, not sure what to say.

She seems to be at ease in a way that I can’t quite understand. She looks so natural here, like she belongs to this place, to the morning, to the quiet. Her dark hair moves with the wind, and her soft steps in the sand are confident, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Her presence is a calm that feels foreign to me, but it’s not unwelcome.

I feel her glance toward me once, then she looks back at the horizon. “I like coming here early,” she says quietly, her voice almost lost in the sound of the waves. “Before the world wakes up.”

I nod, though I’m not entirely sure what she means. “Why?” I ask. It’s the first time I’ve really spoken since we started walking.

Yoonchae pauses, her eyes drifting out to the ocean, almost as if she’s gathering her thoughts. Then, she shrugs lightly. “It’s peaceful,” she says, her voice softer now, almost to herself. “It’s like… the ocean keeps everything else away. Everything else fades, and it’s just you. Just the waves, the wind, the sky. It’s the one place I feel like I can breathe, you know?” She looks at me, her eyes wide with that unspoken depth. “I guess it’s where I find myself.”

I look at her, trying to understand. I wonder if she’s always like this—so open, so willing to speak about things that make her feel this way.

I know I could never share something like that. I don’t even know if I have a place like that. I’ve always just kept to myself, kept everything inside. It’s safer that way.

I turn my gaze down to the sand, kicking my feet slightly, feeling the cool grains shift under me. “I don’t… I don’t have a place like that,” I say quietly. The words slip out before I even think about them. I don’t know why I said it, but it’s there, hanging in the air between us.

Yoonchae’s head tilts slightly, and I can see the concern in her eyes. “No? No special place where you can just… be yourself?”

I shake my head slowly. “I don’t really go anywhere. I don’t need to, I guess,” I mumble, the words feeling hollow even as I say them. “I just stay in my room. Or the library. I don’t really… fit in anywhere.” I bite my lip, looking down at my feet again. My stomach clenches in a way that feels wrong, like I’m revealing too much.

Yoonchae doesn’t speak immediately. She just watches me for a while, her eyes softer than before. I can feel the weight of her gaze, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like she’s listening—really listening—in a way no one else has ever done before.

Finally, she speaks again, her voice quieter, more serious this time. “That’s not true,” she says, her words firm but gentle. “You do fit in. You just need to find the right people.” She steps closer, her shoes leaving light prints in the sand as she comes up next to me, her arm brushing against mine. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re out of place. But you’re not alone. Not really.”

I glance at her, startled by how easily she can say those words. I don’t know how she’s so sure. I want to believe her, but there’s a part of me that’s been so used to being on my own, that I don’t know how to accept her kindness. I don’t know how to accept her. But then she looks at me, and I see something in her eyes—something warm and open. There’s no judgment there, no impatience. Just a quiet understanding.

And finally, I don’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but the words feel too heavy. So, instead, I just nod. She gives me a small smile, that soft, knowing smile that I’ve seen too many times already, and then says, “I want you to know, Y/N, if you ever want to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to be alone in this. Not anymore.”

I feel something in my chest, something tight and unfamiliar, but I can’t name it. Instead, I focus on the waves again, the rhythmic crash of water against the shore. I let the moment stretch on in silence, letting the stillness settle over me, just like the waves.

After a few minutes, I glance at her again. “Do you… ever feel like people don’t understand you?” The question surprises me, and I almost wish I could pull it back. But it’s out there now, hanging in the air.

Yoonchae looks at me thoughtfully, and then, almost like it’s a secret, she nods. “Yeah. A lot. People think they understand you, but they don’t. They see the surface and think they know everything. But no one really understands the things you’re going through unless they’ve been there. They don’t see how deep it goes.”

I feel the words settle deep in me, like they’ve dug into a place I didn’t even know existed. “I don’t think anyone really gets me,” I whisper. “I don’t think anyone ever will.”

Yoonchae turns to face me fully, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my heart skip. “That’s not true. There’s always someone who’ll understand. Sometimes it just takes a while to find them.”

Her words are like a balm for my soul, but I can’t fully accept them. I’ve been alone for so long, and the thought of someone truly understanding me feels impossible. It feels too good to be true. I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, I feel something stirring inside me—something I’ve kept buried for so long that it scares me.

“Yoonchae…” I start, my voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t… I don’t know how to say this. But... I’ve been... I’ve been struggling.”

Yoonchae’s gaze softens even more, and she steps closer. I can feel my chest tightening as I speak, the words feeling like lead in my mouth.

“People at university... they... they don’t like me. They... they make fun of me. I don’t fit in there either. And it’s been getting worse.” My voice shakes as I finally say the words out loud. “They call me names, make jokes about me. I try to ignore it, but it’s getting harder. And it’s just... I don’t know how to deal with it anymore.”

Yoonchae’s face falls, and I can see the sadness in her eyes. She reaches out, touching my arm gently, and I can feel her warmth. “That’s awful,” she says quietly, her voice laced with sympathy. “No one should treat you like that. You don’t deserve that.”

I bite my lip to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill. “I try so hard to just get through the day. But it’s like, every day, it gets worse. I feel like... like I’m invisible. Like I don’t matter.” I pause, the weight of what I’m saying finally sinking in. “And sometimes... I don’t even want to be there anymore. I just want to disappear.”

Yoonchae’s hand tightens around mine, her fingers warm and strong. “You’re not invisible, Y/N,” she says firmly, her voice steady. “You matter. You’re more than what they say about you. Don’t let them take away your worth. You have so much to offer, even if you can’t see it right now. And I promise, you’re not alone in this.”

I look at her, my heart swelling with gratitude and something else—something that feels like hope. It’s a strange feeling, one I haven’t felt in so long, and it scares me. But I’m not ready to pull away. Not now. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For listening. For not treating me like... like I’m broken.”

Yoonchae smiles softly. “You’re not broken. You’re just… going through something that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t been there. But you’re stronger than you think.”

The words sink in, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of hope. Maybe I can make it through this. And maybe, just maybe, Yoonchae will be there to help me get through it.

It was one of those quiet afternoons again. The kind where the world felt distant, almost as if it were happening in slow motion. Yoonchae and I had been sitting on the floor of my room, both of us in that comfortable silence we had become used to over the past few months. She was picking at the ends of her hair, and I was staring at the page in front of me, not really reading, but just trying to focus on something to avoid the swirling mess of thoughts in my head.We had been spending a lot of time together lately. It was hard to pinpoint when things shifted, but it was clear now that there was a connection between us.

I wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere between the quiet conversations and the moments of vulnerability, we had become something more—something I never really expected. I think Yoonchae knew me better than anyone else. Maybe it was because we both had our walls, our defenses. Maybe it was because she, too, knew what it was like to be an outsider in some way. I could feel it in the way she spoke to me, the way she would listen. There was always an understanding in her eyes, and I could see that she was just waiting for me to let her in.

But... I didn’t let anyone in. Not like this. Not like I wanted to let Yoonchae in. I had learned that letting people in only hurt, that it was easier to keep everyone at arm's length. But with her, it was different. It scared me, how different it was.

Yoonchae, sensing my hesitation, spoke softly, her voice breaking the silence. “You’ve been quiet today,” she said, her tone warm and concerned. “Is everything alright?”

I glanced at her, noticing how close she was. She was sitting on the floor next to me, her knees pulled up to her chest. For a moment, I found myself staring at her in a way that felt almost too intimate.

The truth was, everything about Yoonchae made me feel things I didn’t know how to process.

Her presence was comforting, but it was also unsettling in the best way possible.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, but it wasn’t convincing. It was the lie I had told so many times before. The one that made everything feel more bearable. But Yoonchae, being the perceptive person she was, knew better than to believe that.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N,” she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

I felt my heart rate pick up at her words, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. I shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at my hands. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her—it was just that I wasn’t used to sharing any of it. To anyone. The things I kept hidden, buried deep inside, felt like they were part of me now.

And yet... Yoonchae was the first person who made me feel like maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so terrible to share.

“I…” I trailed off, trying to find the words. “I don’t know if I can. Not yet. It’s hard.”

She gave me a soft smile, the kind of smile that made something inside of me ache with a strange mixture of fear and longing. “You don’t have to say it all at once. Just... take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was when I felt it—this pull in my chest, this overwhelming sense of wanting to let her in but being too scared to do so. It felt like a tight knot in my stomach, and I instinctively shifted away, pressing my back against the wall. The moment was too close. Too real. Too much for me to handle all at once.

Yoonchae seemed to notice, though, and for once, she didn’t push me. Instead, she reached out, her hand hovering near mine, offering the quietest gesture of comfort I had ever received. My breath caught in my throat as I stiffened, my entire body frozen in place.

I wasn’t one for physical touch. My personal space was sacred, a boundary I rarely allowed anyone to cross.

But Yoonchae...

Yoonchae was different.

She respected my space, understood my silence, and somehow made me feel like I could let her in. Just a little.

Slowly, she retracted her hand, not disappointed but simply understanding. I could see it in her eyes, that patience, that quiet understanding. Her respect for me, for my space, made something inside me twist with gratitude.

After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice soft and calm. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Y/N. But if you ever do... I’ll be here.”

I nodded slowly, the words feeling heavy in my chest. But as I sat there, the room filled with a strange stillness, I felt a shift—like the air had changed. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, the silence enveloping us, but eventually, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. It felt like the floodgates were opening, and everything I had been trying to keep buried was starting to leak through.

“I don’t... I don’t talk about it,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. “But there’s a place... a field. Behind the university.”

Yoonchae leaned in a little, her eyes full of curiosity and concern. “A field?” she asked softly.

I nodded, my hands starting to fidget with the edge of my sleeve. “Yeah. It’s full of flowers. I go there sometimes when everything gets too much. It’s the only place where I can just... breathe. It’s the only place that feels like mine.”I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s strange. When I’m there, surrounded by all those flowers, I don’t feel so alone. I feel like... like I’m part of something. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

Yoonchae was quiet for a long moment, and I wondered if I’d said too much too soon. But then she smiled, the softest smile I had ever seen from her.

“That sounds beautiful,” she said, her voice gentle. “You deserve to have a place like that. Somewhere you can just... be yourself. You know, I think I get it. Sometimes I need a place like that, too. Like the beach. A place to just be.”

I felt the weight of her words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel so heavy. I didn’t feel so alone. Yoonchae’s presence, her understanding, it was like a balm to my bruised heart.

“There’s... something else,” I continued, my voice barely audible now. “I’ve been writing. I started keeping a diary. I didn’t think it would help, but... it does. I write about everything—about what’s happening, about the things I don’t say out loud. About the things I can’t say to anyone.”

Yoonchae’s eyes softened even more, and she gave a small nod. “Writing is a good way to process everything. I’m proud of you for doing that. It’s not easy to put your thoughts on paper.”

I felt my chest tighten, but this time, I didn’t shy away from the words. "It’s about everything—the things that happen at university... the bullying, the things people say. I try to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. It hurts. A lot. I feel like I'm just... invisible there."

Yoonchae didn’t say anything for a moment. She didn’t need to. Her silence said more than words ever could. I could see it in her eyes—the way she understood, the way she hurt for me.

And then, almost without thinking, she reached out and put her hand on mine. It wasn’t forceful, wasn’t demanding. It was just there, a soft pressure, a connection. My first instinct was to pull away. But I didn’t.

For once, I didn’t pull away.

"I’m so sorry you’re going through that, Y/N," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But you don’t have to go through it alone. Not anymore. I'll always be here if you need me."I nodded, feeling the tears I’d been holding back finally threatening to spill over. It was the first time I felt like I wasn’t just a ghost in my own life.

The first time I noticed the little notes scattered around my room, I almost thought I was going crazy. They were always hidden in places I didn't expect: tucked inside a book I hadn't opened in weeks, slipped between the pages of a notebook I rarely touched, or resting on my pillow when I returned from class. The notes were simple, but the messages on them... they made my heart skip a beat every single time. They were filled with cute little phrases like, “You look beautiful, as always,” or “I hope today is as bright as you are.” There were sometimes drawings of flowers, soft and delicate, as though they were drawn with the same care and attention someone would give to an intimate secret.

I knew Yoonchae was behind them. There was no doubt in my mind, and it made me feel both touched and embarrassed. She had a way of making everything seem personal, almost like she was constantly thinking of me, even when I wasn’t around.

One Saturday afternoon, Yoonchae called me, her voice warm and inviting. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d want to go shopping with me today? I promise I won’t drag you to any weird stores, just... I think it’ll be fun.”

To my dear Yoonchip,

“Shopping?” I hesitated, unsure if I was ready for something so... casual. But there was something about the way she asked, the soft tone that almost felt like she was asking me to share a secret. “Okay... sure.”

First of all, I want to ask for forgiveness.

When we arrived at the store, Yoonchae immediately pulled me toward the shoe section. I tried to keep my distance a bit, not used to being so out in public with someone.

But Yoonchae had this way of pulling me in, making everything feel comfortable and normal.

She picked out a pair of shoes— big sneakers in a color I never would’ve considered for myself. “Try these on,” she insisted, her eyes full of excitement.I hesitated, but then I thought, Why not? Yoonchae had a good eye for these things, even though my style was always so... reserved. When I slipped them on, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked... good.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to downplay how much I actually liked them. “I wouldn’t have picked these, but... they’re... actually really nice.”

Yoonchae’s face lit up. “I knew it! I knew they’d be perfect for you!”

And then, without warning, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small box, handing it to me. “I got these for us,” she said softly.I opened the box to find two simple rings, delicate but undeniably beautiful.

I hope this letter reaches you well, and that you are not the first to see me this way,

“Matching rings?” I asked, surprised by the gesture. She smiled, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun. Something to... you know, remind us of today,” she said, slipping the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.

I'm sorry this happened. I didn't want it to end like this, actually.

The walk back to the apartment was quiet, comfortable. I felt a strange tension, as though something unspoken lingered between us. As we walked side by side, our hands brushed together—just a fleeting moment—but it felt like time stopped. I pulled my hand away quickly, my heart racing, but Yoonchae looked at me with a soft smile. “Sorry,” I muttered, feeling embarrassed. She didn’t say anything, but the way her eyes sparkled told me she didn’t mind at all.

Later that night, as we sat in my living room, I suddenly blurted out, “You can sleep here tonight, if you want. Like... on the extra mattress. Or in the living room. Whatever’s comfortable.”

Yoonchae’s eyes widened for a second, and then she nodded, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “I’d like that. We could watch movies and talk.”

We stayed up until dawn. Talking about everything and nothing. I shared my hopes for the future, my fears, and Yoonchae listened intently, offering her own stories, her own secret moments of vulnerability

But things like this are meant to be.

Over the next few weeks, Yoonchae started sending me more and more messages. Sometimes it was a simple “I hope you’re having a good day,” other times it was something like, “I’m thinking about you.” At first, I was unsure how to react to them. I wasn’t used to someone reaching out so frequently, but the more I saw her texts pop up, the more I appreciated them.

“Thanks for the message,” I typed back one night, my thumb hesitating before adding, “It makes me smile.”

It felt so personal, like we were the only two in the world.

When we're together again,

After one particularly rainy day, when we went to the grocery store together to pick up a few things, we ended up sitting side by side on the couch afterward, sketchbooks open. I was drawing flowers, trying to capture the beauty of the rainy afternoon outside, while Yoonchae was focused on a portrait of a cat she had seen earlier that week.

“You’re really good at this,” Yoonchae commented, glancing over at my notebook. “You should draw more often.”

“I guess,” I said quietly, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s just something to pass the time.”

Yoonchae turned her sketchbook around, showing me the cat she’d drawn. “I think you could be amazing at this,” she said softly.I smiled, looking at her sketches. “You’re really good, too,” I whispered back.

Maybe we can try, if you let me?

Our eyes met, and for a brief moment, the distance that we’d maintained between us seemed to disappear. Slowly, cautiously, I scooted closer, feeling the warmth of her body next to mine. We stayed like that, quiet, sketching, but feeling so much more.

Later that week, Yoonchae started sending me pictures of things that reminded her of me. Sometimes it was a photo of flowers she saw while walking through the park. Other times, it was a sunset she thought was beautiful. And sometimes, just a silly selfie of her, grinning with her usual charm.

One evening, she showed up with a bouquet of flowers in hand, looking slightly out of breath as if she’d been carrying them for longer than she should have.

I don't want you just in this universe.

“For you,” she said softly, holding them out to me. “I picked them from the field you like. The one with all the flowers.”

I stared at the bouquet, my breath catching in my throat. She’d remembered. And she’d gone out of her way to bring me something so thoughtful. “Thank you,” I whispered, the words feeling inadequate.But Yoonchae wasn’t done yet. She handed me a bundle of paper—stripes of her notebook filled with drawings of flowers, of the field I had told her about. “I thought you’d like them,” she said shyly. I didn’t know how to respond. The gesture was so genuine, so full of meaning.

I need, I want you in all universes. As my friend, or not.

It was in that moment that I realized how much Yoonchae truly cared.

You are the only one who understands.

That night, after all the emotions settled down, I found a special box where I stored my most treasured things and tucked the flowers and striped papers inside.

And in this universe, I wish I had said before:

On top of it, I wrote a note:

My Yoonchip.

I really like you.

One year later. It feels strange, saying this out loud. Saying it to someone else, even though they’re not really there. The world is still so quiet, still so empty without her. I guess... it’s been a year since everything happened, but the emptiness, the weight of it all, never really left.

It just... stayed with my soul. Like a constant reminder of how things were, and how they could’ve been.

I’ve already told the story of me and Yoonchae.

Everything we were. Everything we had. All of it, through my diary, my words. I had to put it all down, I think. I had to write it to make sense of it. But the truth is, no matter how much I tell myself I was happy, or how much I convince myself that she was the best thing that ever happened to me... a part of me, even now, feels like something was missing. Like I was always searching for something more, even in her arms. And I don’t know if it’s because I wasn’t ready for what she gave me, or if I just wasn’t meant to have that... fulfillment.

I keep asking myself the same question: Why, despite all of it—despite everything she did, everything she gave, how she looked at me like I was something precious, how she held me in her arms like a fragile stone—why did it never feel enough?

I think I know the answer now. At least, I have an idea.

Maybe I couldn’t love her the way she deserved. I couldn’t let myself. I was so afraid of losing her, so afraid of being hurt again that I never fully embraced her the way she needed me to. Or maybe it’s just that... the need to be loved, the need for something more than a connection, something deeper, it was always there. And no matter how much Yoonchae tried to fill that void, it was something I had to fill myself first. But that’s the hardest part. To recognize it, and to be okay with it.

I don’t know if I’m really okay with it, but I guess... it doesn’t matter now.

I remember the last time we were in the field. That place where I would go to feel close to something pure, to something untouched. It was a late afternoon, the sky a soft gradient of orange and purple as the sun began to set. I had told her, many times, about this place.

About how much it meant to me. About how peaceful I felt surrounded by the flowers, how the world felt like it stood still for just a moment.

She had come with me that day. Just the two of us. We walked quietly at first, side by side, each step sinking into the soft ground. The field stretched out before us, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze, the scent of fresh earth filling the air. We didn’t talk much. We didn’t need to.

At one point, I sat down on the grass, my legs tucked underneath me, and Yoonchae did the same beside me. There was this peaceful silence between us, but it wasn’t awkward. It felt... natural. And then she spoke. “Do you think,” she began, her voice quiet, but full of curiosity, “that we’ve spent so much time trying to figure everything out, only to realize that maybe... we were already where we needed to be?”

I looked at her, her eyes soft in the golden light of the setting sun. Her hair fluttered in the wind, strands brushing her face, but she didn’t seem to mind. There was a warmth in her gaze, something that made my chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” I said softly. “It feels like everything’s always changing. Like no matter how much we try to hold onto things, they slip away.”

Her hand brushed against mine. It wasn’t intentional, but it sent a shiver through me, a spark of warmth that spread down my arm. “I think I know what you mean,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But... you know, even in all of this... even in the chaos, I’m glad I’m here with you. I don’t regret a single moment.”

I didn’t know how to respond. A part of me wanted to say something, to tell her that I felt the same, that I was grateful for everything she had given me. But another part of me felt unsure.

What if I said something wrong?

What if I broke this fragile thing we had, this beautiful, delicate connection?

She turned toward me, her face inches from mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from her, the energy building between us. “I know it’s been a lot,” she said, her breath mingling with mine. “And I know I haven’t always known how to make you feel safe. But I just... I need you to know that I care about you. More than I can put into words. Y/N, if you let me, can we try?”

The intensity in her eyes made my heart race. I wanted to say something, anything, but my voice caught in my throat.

And then, without thinking, without any warning, she leaned in. Her lips pressed softly against mine.

It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t forceful—it was gentle. Careful. Like she was waiting for my permission. For a moment, I just froze. Everything went still. The world around us seemed to blur, leaving only the two of us in that tiny, sacred moment. And then, without thinking, I kissed her back. My hand went to her hair that I loved to caress so much, and I felt her smile against my lips.

It was nothing like I’d imagined. It wasn’t some grand, passionate moment. It wasn’t the culmination of all our unspoken feelings. No, it was quiet. It was innocent. It was... full of something we both didn’t understand. But it felt like the world had shifted, like this was the answer to everything we had been searching for. When we pulled away, I could feel the flush in my cheeks, the racing of my heart. I looked at her, unsure what to say, unsure of anything. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I didn’t... mean to.”

She smiled softly, her eyes glistening in the light. “What are you apologizing for?,” she whispered back.

“I.. don't know?” She let out a laugh, causing me to follow suit.

We sat there for a while, the field around us quiet, the only sound the gentle rustling of the flowers. We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to.

But that kiss... it was the moment we both knew we’d been searching for. The moment everything finally felt right, even if just for a fleeting second.

And now... it’s gone. I try to tell myself that it’s okay. That it was a beautiful chapter, and I should remember it for what it was. But then I ask myself: why does it still hurt so much? Why does it still feel like something is missing, even after everything she gave me?

Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready. Maybe it’s because... I never truly believed in the love she showed me. I never truly allowed myself to be ennough for her.

But I’ll never know. I can only hope that wherever she is, she’s happy. I can only hope that she found what I couldn’t give her. And as for me... I’m learning to accept the silence. The emptiness. I’m learning to accept that not everything is meant to be filled.

But I’ll always remember her. Always.

She remembers me too.

I see her coming to my grave every day, leaving flowers picked from the field behind the university. She says the most beautiful things I could ever hear, and sometimes I want to hug her. The wind seems to connect with us, she looks at the horizon and, just for a moment, I can feel her close, watching me, even though she isn't.

I still remember how she screamed and cried when she saw the rope in my room. I was there, but not entirely.

I also remember when she sat, crying as she read my goodbye letter, her hands shaking as she held the gifts in the box.

She seemed to like me too.

Because, she said: Let's try in another life.

And, maybe... that’s enough.

[tiramisuwithmascarpone]

Hello! I'm a 15-year-old devotee of both Lord Hermes and Lady Aphrodite who is raised in an extremely Orthodox Christian household, and I would like to share my story with you ⋆˚ʚɞ

Hi! for safety reasons I will not use the name I usually use online for this account, but you can call me Jellyfish. I live in Eastern Europe, more exactly Romania, a country whose population is 98% devoted to Christianity at the time of speaking. My mother is a perfect example. She wholeheartedly believes in God, I grew up with pictures of him and the Holy Mary all over the walls, which I wouldn't escape even at my grandparent's houses. My house always smelled of myrrh, I would carry a picture of God everywhere I went, I would pray to him before bed, go to church on every holiday, but I never felt fulfilled or connected to him in any way. I didn't truly know what I believed in. My mother was telling me all about how should I praise God, but I don't think I ever did it because I wanted to or felt connected to what she was telling me or felt like it was the life I wanted to live. When she would fight with my father, even now, she would threaten that she would run away to a monastery and become a nun. She thinks you cannot change your religion and you can not be Christian if you were born with Christian parents and raised in that environment. I did not have faith in God because I wanted to and felt connected to his message and wanted to worship his divine being, I did it because my mother felt that way. And that destroyed me.

As I grew older, I started believing less and less in God. I was struggling with going through teenagehood, fighting my own inner battles, and dealing with friendship that slowly felt like they were taking away my lifespan, and it wasn't just that I didn't have faith in a divine being (which is completely alright. Please do not believe this monologue is Anti-Christian, I believe everyone is allowed to believe and worship the one who they feel most connected and inclined towards.) I didn't have faith in anything anymore. When my brother reached 15, he hated my parents for their beliefs. I will not get much I detail since his story is not mine to tell, but he had battled with alcohol and substance abuse. And I was his only shoulder for him and my parents to lean and cry on. My mother told me to pray for our family, she would pray to god every day, light up myrrh, take me to churches, and I would feel miserable. I felt like an imposter in that church. I truly wanted to have faith in a god, anyone, but I felt like my only choice was God since that's what my mother taught me. Both my parents trust God so I cannot be different, can I?

How foolish I was. I can only look back to my past self and wish to embrace and hold her till she cries all her sorrow out. She was so confused.

Back in 2022, I had first heard of Aphrodite. My brother was sent to a mental hospital for his substance abuse when they caught him on the verge of overdosing. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder after a suicide attempt, autism and ADHD, but my father (who already couldn't accept the fact that my brother has ADHD) fought with them saying they ,,don't know me well enough" and,,there's nothing wrong with me". And he's right, there's nothing wrong with me. Not even If I am neurodivergent. I was at my lowest, I felt disgusting, I fought with my parents and was their therapist every single day, I stopped going to school, I was a mess. But, I was heavily active on social media because I had tons of online friends. While scrolling on tiktok, I found a video of an Aphrodite devotee. My interest was piqued. I heard about Greek Mythology before but never actually researched it. I liked the video and commented, talking about how gorgeous their faith sounds, and that's when it all started. I started getting more info about Aphrodite, the swans swum by me every time I would go to the lake with my family so we could ,,get some fresh air". I started getting lots of pins on Pinterest with her. I always had a desire for water and the beach was my safe place, where I felt fulfilled and free from all I'm feeling. I had a Dove make itself a nest on a tree next to the window of my classroom which I would always sit by while having lunch (on the rare occasions I would drop by to school). I started researching more about Lady Aphrodite, loving her story, beliefs, ways of worshipping, how it felt like silence was washing over me when I would make a non-physical offering to her. Her tales. The way it felt like she was always there to give me a warm hug and squeeze me while I was crying. I also felt a boost in my confidence! I started loving my features, taking care of myself again, etc. It wasn't always just sun and rainbows, I would still have breakdowns and wish it would all just end and all that, but it was more bearable with her. She made my life more bearable. I love, worship, and adore Lady Aphrodite for that. I worshipped her till this year when I officially felt strong enough to devote myself to her.

This year, actually, I started noticing my strong connection to Hermes. I was always attracted to the kind-hearted, mischievous, kind-hearted, highly intelligent and funny thieves. I always idolized them and wished to be like them. That's how I feel about Lord Hermes. I feel like he was reaching out to me all my life. Everything he is associated with I had an inexplicable obsession with for pretty much all my life. Turtles, golden or silver, travel, learning new languages, astronomy, astrology, everything you could think of. I have been devoted to him since last month, that's when I officially started labeling myself as a Hellenic Pagan, but I am still a beginner, and I need to hide all of this from my mother since I am afraid of what she would do if she were to find out I have another belief since she reacted super badly back when I was an atheist :( I set up the first altar for Lady Aphrodite, and the second one for Lord Hermes. I always had been an artistic soul and loved making my room all pretty randomly so I told my mother this is one of those cases and she believed it. She does not know english and is not at all cultured about any beliefs besides Christians, Muslims, and Jews. They are both hidden in my closet. I feel very bad for not being able to make them a bigger and more obvious altar, I hope I'll have that chance when I move out from my parent's house..

I wanted to ask if Lord Hermes would be mad if my mom kept setting random things on his altar? she even put a picture of the Holy Mary. I moved it to the other side of the closet and made a DIY necklace for him out of orange garnet or beads to apologize to him, and he didn't seem mad, but I'm not sure...I sketched drawings of both of them and rested them on their altars. Everything you see are either offerings I heard they may like or things that reminded me of them! the little notebook on Hermes's altar is specifically made for learning new languages and thought he would enjoy it. Do you guys think any of my offerings are disrespectful? or should be removed? I'm open to any advice! Thank you for listening to my story <3