#if you or a loved one are autistic and have little to no grasp on reality and are prone to psychotic spirals. hit me up we can be friends

[wormsdyke]

preaching to the choir here but community was created in a lab for autistic people who are chemically dependent on committing to the bit

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai (pt. 2)

part one

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you grow closer to carmen berzatto as the seasons change. your walls are coming down, and carmy sees you at a low point.

word count: ~8.4k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (reader referred to as 'girl' once, but for all intents and purposes, they are nb), neurodivergent!reader, reader has a meltdown/shutdown, they still don't kiss, yearning/pining, hurt/comfort, weed usage (reader smokes a little), reader has a complicated relationship with their mother.

a/n: hello lovelies! part two is finally here after months of me picking away at it. i hope you enjoy and once again, this is learning toward self insert material, so if you don't like, don't read. i am queer, non-binary, and autistic and i am enjoying exploring that in this space. feel free to leave any asks if you have questions about carmy + reader (my beloveds). also thank you to my lovely beta @straight-n-arrow. enjoy *mwah*

You were right.

Not to say that you were right all the time — it took you months to figure out Carmy’s drink. But you did it, if the look on his face is any indication. His eyelashes flutter as he takes another drink, and you dance victoriously.

Carmen raises his eyebrows at you as he puts his cup down, “Yeah?”

You shrug, grinning, “You can say it. I’m a genius.”

”You’re a genius,” he murmurs, hiding a smile with the back of his hand.

”Thank you.” You curtsy dramatically.

”No, but seriously, I’ve had chai before, but this tastes different.” 

You weren’t about to tell him how many different chai concentrates you had to try before you found the right one. It was far too many.

”Barista secret, sorry.” You say, not sorry at all. You push a cookie across the counter to him, which he snags a piece of. He watches you for a moment, and you blurt out, “It’s masala chai. There’s actual spices in it, instead of just the tea. It’s Indian. I had it once — at a tea shop — and I loved it. Regular chai just doesn’t hit quite right anymore.” You lean against the counter, squishing your face as you hold your head up with your hands. “You like it?” Reassurance, asked for casually, as the insecurity bubbles up inside of you.

“It’s really good.” He knocks on the counter twice, mumbling, “Thank you.”

Heat rises up the back of your neck, and you shrug. “I told you I’d find your drink. Wouldn’t be a good barista otherwise.” You rock back on your heels, jitters buzzing through your body.

“I - uh, started listening to that playlist you sent me.” 

You almost launch yourself at him, being held back by the counter between you. Your hands grab his arm, and it takes everything inside you to not shake him. “Oh my god, this is the best thing you could have told me! Thoughts? Comments? A ten page essay?”

The playlist Carmy spoke of is one of many in your repertoire. You have a playlist for almost any occasion, and you started putting together a playlist specifically for Carmen when he commented on your music taste one late night at Nan’s. Any time a song comes on you think he’d like — for one reason or another — gets added to the playlist. You’re surprised he actually listened to it at all though.

Music is your lifeblood. Whenever you can’t grasp an understanding of your own feelings, you listen to music to help you figure it out. It’s always been a little difficult for you to understand what you were feeling in the moment. Alexythymia — you remember the word your old therapist (the one good one you had) told you. Probably has to do with how used to masking you are. Ergo, playlists. Music blasting as loud as it can go in your headphones and in your car. Grounding you to this planet…or maybe to aid in your dissociation.

But hey, you never said all of your coping mechanisms were good ones.

Carmy laughs, your excitement infectious. “I’ll have to get back to you on the essay.”

You stick your tongue out at him, nose scrunched. “Ugh, fine. Party pooper.”

“My middle name.”

Gasping, you blink at him with exaggerated wide eyes. “Carmen Berzatto, did you just make a joke?”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sips at his drink, staring at the counter for a moment. “Are you, uh, coming to the baby shower thing?”

The thing that Neil had told you about a few weeks ago. That you had agreed to go to without really hearing the conversation. Natalie’s having a post-birth baby shower, of which you got an actual evite from Natalie herself after you said yes to Neil. Other people from The Bear were going, so it wasn’t like you were just invited to a family only function. But you also haven’t been to a party in…who knows how long. And Natalie was literally the sweetest human on the planet, and you wouldn’t say no to looking at a cute baby.

A cute little baby Berzatto. You vaguely wonder what Carmy looked like as a baby — all curly hair, blue eyes, and that same dimple. Maybe Natalie has photos somewhere.

A thought for another time.

“Oh,” you gnaw on the inside of your lip, “I think so. You’re going?”

He nods, “Closing the restaurant early. Just window and lunch service.”

“That’s nice!” You hesitate to say anything more about The Bear. Things seem to be getting better, if the words of Syd, Marcus, and Richie were anything to go by. Chatter you hear while they pick up drinks from you before heading down the street. “I’ll probably come by, at least to say hi.” 

���Cool.”

You squint at him, “You gotta promise you’ll save me from making a fool of myself.”

Carmy looks at you incredulously, like you’re missing something, but he relents, “Only if you do the same for me.”

“Deal.” You reach out your hand, raising an eyebrow. He rolls his eyes, but grabs your hand as you shake it dramatically. “Pleasure doing business, Mr. Berzatto.”

Carmen swallows back the acid in his throat as he looks around the crowded living room of his sister’s house. He really should have brought some Pepto tablets or something. He’s nursing a beer in his hand, a cheap one that Pete had in the fridge. It doesn’t help the heartburn, and in all honestly Carmen has barely touched it. He’s said hello to Natalie, and the baby, at least. 

He hasn’t seen you anywhere, though. Which puts a different feeling in his stomach, one he doesn’t care to evaluate in the current moment. Taking a drink from his beer, he grimaces, staring at it in contempt. He decides to see if he can find something actually drinkable, maybe in the garage fridge, and he leaves the corner he was hiding in.

As if by thinking you into existence, he spots you near the entryway across from the living room. He goes to walk over to you, but stops when he sees a little blur ram straight into your legs, arms wrapping around your waist.

Eva, Richie’s daughter, grins up at you. You return it, crouching down to give her a proper hug. Richie is soon to follow, calling out your name and clapping you on the shoulder. 

It’s like someone’s twisted his stomach into knots.

He watches you smile and chat animatedly with Richie and Eva, letting the little girl grab your arms and use you as a jungle gym. You’re pulled into the living room, a chorus of your name being called by his coworkers, and Carmy dips into the kitchen. 

He catches his sister deep in a bowl of some five-layer bean dip thing one of Pete’s relatives bought from Costco. 

She’s eating it with a spoon. A big one. Which she waves at him with a glare, “Bear, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hey I didn’t say anything.” He slides by her to open up the fridge, staring into it. “You have anything decent to drink?”

“No, just some juice, and Diet Coke, I think.” She takes another bite of the dip. “I got rid of anything above a 5% alcohol content months ago.”

“Why?” Silence falls between the siblings for a moment, then Carmy shakes his head. “No, sorry, yeah. Makes sense. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay, Bear.” He can tell she means it. That he didn’t fuck up. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem, really. I just…wanted to make sure, you know?”

“Yeah.” He chews on his next sentence, shutting the fridge to look at Nat. “You-You’re gonna be a great mom.” He immediately sees tears start to well up in her eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry. Shit, I didn’t — it’s okay.”

Natalie sets the tray of dip on the table, laughing as she presses her hands to her eyes. Carmen is quiet; he fiddles with the packet of nicotine gum in his pocket. He barely realizes what’s happening until her arms are wrapped around him and her face in his neck. “Thank you, Carm.”

Something in him rights itself. Like a little lightbulb is finally screwed in all the way and it finally blinks on. 

Natalie pushes his shoulder a little and steps out of the embrace. “Okay, enough sap. I have to go check on my baby. I swear if Richie makes one more joke about dropping her I might actually kill him.” She takes one more spoonful of bean dip, humming happily. “Don’t hide in here for too long, okay?” He nods his assent, and his sister leaves. 

Carmen follows after her a few minutes later. His gaze finds you without him even trying, as if you have your own gravitational pull. You’re in a little circle with Syd and Marcus on the far side of the room. And maybe you feel it, too, because your eyes lock with his and a smile pulls at your lips. His feet push him forward, but he’s caught by Pete’s brother. Carmy’s pulled into the conversation, Natalie coming over with the baby. She helps him figure out how to hold her entirely too fragile body in his arms, and although he’s itching for a cigarette to ease his nerves, he’s content. Happy, even.

He catches your eyes again, and you make a face, sticking your tongue out at him. Carmy huffs a laugh, shaking his head, while you turn back to engage with his coworkers — his friends.

It’s later in the evening that Carmy finds you outside. The sun has set, sky fading from hues of pink and orange to a cool indigo. There’s a chill in the air, a sign that fall is truly on its way. He had snagged a cigarette off Richie earlier, deciding he deserved to sneak one. He’s been here for a couple hours. All hell hasn’t broken loose. Having a smoke definitely isn’t the worst thing he could do.

He goes out the side door, through the gate that leads back to the front of the house. He’s sure he has a lighter in his car, stashed in the center console somewhere. Nicotine gum be damned.

You’re sitting on the curb, head turned toward the sky, arms resting on your knees. A blanket of calm covers you, but something lingers underneath. Loneliness, maybe. Self-imposed, because it’s easier than holding a smile on your lips around people you barely know. That tug, the one that he constantly feels when he sees you, urges him forward. You must not have heard him walking up, because you jolt when he asks, “You okay?”

“Carmen, shit, you scared me.” You lean back to look at him, resting your hands palm-down on the sidewalk. “I’m good. Just needed a minute. You?”

“Uh,” he fiddles with the cig in his hand. “Left my lighter in the car.”

“I got one!” You dig into your bag — a mini backpack, covered with a cartoon character he recognizes but can’t name. “Usually keep one on me, where is it…” You let out a noise of victory as you find it, holding it out to him. 

“Thanks,” he takes it from you, and your fingers brush. Something catches in his throat, stomach turning. 

Fwip. Like clockwork, he’s blowing out the smoke, making sure it’s not going in your direction. He hands the lighter back to you, murmuring, “Thought you didn’t smoke.”

Craning your neck to look at him, you reply, “I don’t.” To save your neck from breaking, Carmy decides to sit on the curb. Settling next to you, he takes another drag, right as you say, “Well, not the nicotine kind, anyway.” 

Carmen laughs in surprise, then tries to cover it up with a cough, “No shit?” He waves the smoke away with his free hand.

“Fuck off, Carmy.” Your words lack bite, and you tumble off into your own laughter. “What, you think I’m too much of a nerd to smoke weed?” He attempts to hide the grin forming, and you swat at his arm. “Oh my god, you do!”

“No, no, I think you’re very edgy. With your combat boots and your Mothman tattoo.”

“I’m being bullied!” You cackle, outraged. “There’s no way you're not a nerd, too. We congregate.” Your laughter gives way to a comfortable silence, knees pulled up to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knees, and you twirl your lighter in your fingers.

The air is cold, but Carmy has never felt warmer. It’s like you carry the very essence of your late nights at Nan’s with you in your pocket. Only to be brought out at the correct moment. Seeing you carefree is a treat, one he covets. There’s a strange thing in his chest that pangs when you relax in his presence.

“It was nice for Natalie to invite me,” you say, soft and earnest. Like you weren’t expecting it.

“She’s glad you came.” Natalie hadn’t mentioned anything, but he’s sure it’s true. 

You look over at him, blinking lazily. You’re staring, blatantly, and he lets you, snubbing out his cigarette on the sidewalk. “Her baby is so cute it literally kills me.” You mumble, more of a groan than words. “It’s cuteness aggression. I swear if I see those chubby cheeks again I could kill someone.”

Carmy snorts, glancing at you, “Do I need to worry?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just – I think I’m done with,” you wave your hands vaguely. “Words. Brain. I’ve met way too many people today.” You peek over in his direction. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I feel you.” He does. It’s an experience he knows all too well. Social functions with expectations always turn his stomach sour. He inhales, fingers tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “You wanna get outta here?”

Your head lifts, “Huh?”

“There’s this, uh, pizza place. Small joint, like, ten minutes from here? Mom and pop shop, deep dish, good shit.” He’s rambling, but the words keep spilling from his lips. “We could take my car, if you want.”

Nice going, hotshot.

You’re looking at him like he’s grown two heads, but before he can retract anything, you smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Relief; as if you could bring anything else.

“Will your sister get mad…if you leave?”

“I’ll text her.” He stands, and holds out his hands for you. He barely notices he’s done it, until you’ve grabbed them and he’s tugged you up onto your feet. You let out a little noise, doing a little hop, before letting go. 

You follow him to his car, and for a moment he panics about what it looks like inside. But then he remembers it’s just you.

The two of you share a pepperoni pizza, in the dim lighting of the little restaurant. The owner comes out to greet you, giving both you and Carmy a firm handshake. You hum as you take bites of food, and Carmy can’t hide his grin. You talk about everything and nothing, random shit that doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. Long moments of silence that’s just the two of you eating.

Carmen feels frighteningly…normal. Like maybe this is what his life was supposed to be like all along. Going to a social function and ditching to get drinks and food with people you care about.

Full and relaxed, he watches as you melt into the dingy leather booth. You’re not really talking, staring off to the side where some sports game is playing on the TV mounted in the corner. Your gaze is vacant, thumbnail picking at a groove in the table. Worried, Carmy settles his hand over yours, and your gaze snaps to him. It’s wide, like he’s caught you somewhere you didn’t want him to. 

He fears if he asks if you’re okay that you’ll bolt. “Wanna head out?”

“Sure.” You grab your jacket from where you tossed it beside you, sliding out of the booth. You’re silent, all the way to the car, and Carmy feels his anxiety prick the back of his neck.

When you’re both in the car, you blurt, “Sorry.”

“Huh?” Is all he can say. He hasn’t even turned the keys in the ignition yet.

“I had a good time! Really, I just…today’s been a lot. And sometimes I, like, power down? Like someone flipped a switch and suddenly it’s hard for me to emote about anything. I zone out, occasionally. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, or that I wasn’t having a good time.” The words pour out of you, unbidden, and Carmen can see the dots connecting in his own head. You’re defending yourself. You feel like you have to defend yourself for not engaging in conversation. At the realization, his anxiety dissipates as quickly as it came. Of course it wasn’t about him.

Turning to face you in the car, he shakes his head, “No, hey, you’re good. We’re good, yeah?” He bites the inside of his cheek, before continuing, “You don’t have to…just because we’re not at your shop doesn’t mean you have to act any different. And if it’s too much, we don’t have to…” His voice trails off.

Mirroring him, you also turn. His eyes catch on your hands, thumb pressed into the middle of your other palm. “No!” You cringe at yourself, “Sorry, I mean – I want to hang out, outside of work.”

“Okay,” he says, lightly. He lets you sit, watches as you take a few deep breaths. He subconsciously echoes you, inhaling when you exhale.

After a couple of minutes, you nod, “Okay. Maybe we could make plans? Like check our schedules and have a place picked out. Or a list of places we want to try?”

“Restaurants?”

“Or cafes. They don’t have to all be food places. It’s a common denominator between us, though.”

“Having a plan makes it easier?” It’s like he’s pulled a bit of the covering back, revealing a different piece of you.

You hum, “Yeah, most of the time.”

“Cool.”

It’s cool with me, if that’s what you need.

You peer over at him, “Sorry, if I weirded you out.”

“You didn’t.” At your squint, he scoffs, “If anyone should be weirded out, it’s you. You met half of my family today.” He ignores the assumption that pops up in the back of his mind. 

Falling back into the passenger seat, you laugh. “A little.” You settle; Carmy can visibly see your shoulders untense. “It’s nice, the community you have.” It’s whispered, a little reverent.

A few months ago the comment might have made him bristle. He’s a little surprised it doesn’t, still. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

He puts on the playlist you made for him, and you brighten a little. The car ride back is filled with your singing, and Carmy is warm once again. He’s made you feel better. He hasn’t royally fucked anything up. He drops you off by your car, and you give a little wave before you peel away. 

Carmy walks back into Nat’s house, finding her sitting in a recliner, baby tucked carefully in her arms. The party has slowed, only Pete’s family left.

Natalie’s eyes find his, a gentle smile on her lips, “Have a good time?”

Carmy nods, “You?”

“Very.” The siblings don’t need to say much, to talk, sometimes. It’s getting easier to read between the lines, like relearning a language. “I’m glad they came.”

He holds back a laugh, pleased. “Me too.”

As the leaves change and the air turns cold, Nan’s gets busier. Nothing crazy, but it’s enough that you have to hire another barista. You’re thrown into training the new kid. It’s fun and challenging, but you’re exhausted. Who knew that having to explain why you do the things you do took more brain power? And now every day you feel a bit like mush by the end of it.

“I’m just saying, Nan has to have some connections to powerful people.”

“Elle, that’s insane!” You laugh at your coworker’s gossip. “Nan is the sweetest person I know.”

“The mob boss energy she gives is massive, don’t lie.” Elle is your newest hire, and the youngest of the crew. She’s still in high school, with so much energy you have no idea what to do with. She also reminds you of how "old" you are every second of the day. You like her, though. Plus, she does good work, which you’ll never complain about.

“Hey,” Morgan yells your name, running into the back, where you’re washing dishes. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

You set the dish you’re washing into the sanitizer sink, sighing, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“The guy from the restaurant?” Elle asks.

Morgan nods, hip checking you to the side to take your place by the sink. “We’re talking Carmen Berzatto. Who owns and runs The Bear.”

“Guys, don’t start.” You really hope the equipment sounds and the swinging doors are enough to muffle this conversation. If Carmy heard one bit of it he’d probably start running.

“We’re just teasing…mostly,” Morgan grins, sticking their tongue out at you.

Elle hums, “He watches you with puppy-dog eyes.”

“Elle.”

She holds her hands up defensively, “Right. I’ll shut up, boss.”

You groan, biting back a smile. “I’m clocking out.”

“I got the bar!” Elle dashes out of the back, and you snort. Saying bye to Morgan, you grab your bag and jacket from your cubby, before rushing out to meet up with your friend.

Carmy is puttering around some book displays, but he quickly swerves his attention to you. He’s wearing a denim jacket; it has some detailed embroidery on the sleeves and pockets. It’s not one you’ve seen him wear before, but you’re coming to learn that the man has a bit of an obsession with denim. His cheeks and nose are red, proof of the cold air that must be whipping around outside. 

“Hey,” he breathes out.

“Hi,” you say, walking up to the register so you can clock out.

“Old people,” Elle whispers next to you. You give her a glance, body warming with embarrassment. As you walk around the counter and follow Carmy outside of the shop, she yells after you, “We’ll make sure not to burn the place down!”

The bell jingles as the door closes. “She seems to be doing good.”

“She is, but she never fails to drive me just a little bit crazy? Not in a bad way, just different.” You wave your fingers up by your head, before pointing at him, “No work talk. That’s the rules of our standing lunch outings.” You follow Carmy down the road, letting him guide you through the streets he knows so well.

“Right, right, my bad.”

The ‘standing lunch outings’, as you’ve taken to calling them, have been a frequent addition for the last few months. At least once a week, the two of you will try a new food place. Carmy’s also started bringing leftovers from lunch service to the shop — sometimes enough for everyone, mostly just for you. You’ll bring him his drink on particularly long days, giving him a moment to hide away behind The Bear.

You’ve picked the current location — a waffle spot. All kinds of waffles, some even in sandwich form. The choice had caused Carmy to scoff lightheartedly, but he didn’t veto it.

“How are you not a waffles guy?” You peer over at him.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. They just seem…”

“Wonderful? Nostalgic? The tastiest breakfast item in the universe?”

“That’s incorrect, but sure.”

“Don’t start with me, Berzatto, or you’re buying.” He rolls his eyes at your antics, and the two of you go back to looking at the menu on the side of the food truck. A shiver runs through your body as cold air sneaks into your jacket. You rub your hands up and down your arms, tugging your beanie a bit more over your ears.

When it gets to your turn to order, you stutter over your words when Carmy shuffles up behind you, effectively blocking the wind. Warmth seeps into your back from his chest, and you stop yourself from leaning into it. You finish your order, the world fading into background noise as your thoughts race.

That had to be accidental, right? Casual touches weren’t really his thing. He’s not even that close. God, how touch starved are you?

“That’ll be $30.95.” You check back in too late, as Carmy reaches around you to tap his phone to the card reader.

“Carmen!” You turn to him, shocked. There’s a tiny little smirk on his stupid face. His dimple is mocking you.

“What?” He asks innocently.

“Wha-you!”

“You said I’m buying.”

You glare at him, “It’s not funny when you’re clever.”

“I’m always funny.” It’s deadpan, and he ushers you to the side to wait for your food. “Besides, technically it was my turn. I just couldn’t pick a new place.” 

There’s space between you again, which makes your chest ache. “Both of us can’t be indecisive in this friendship, Carmy.”

He huffs out a laugh through his nose, “Don’t think we have a choice in that.” Giving you a look, he says, “You can go wait inside, if you want. I’ll wait for the food.” You open your mouth to retort, but he cuts you off, “You’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

“I’m acclimating,” you pout.

“Sure.” He nudges you with his elbow, and it’s embarrassing how easily you soften. You puff out your cheeks, but mozey to the indoor seating area of the food cart pod. Taking a seat at a table that gives you a clear view of Carmy, you give him a wave. He shakes his head good-naturedly, waving back.

You’ve enjoyed spending time with Carmen Berzatto more than you thought you would. You’d thought you would have run out of things to talk about by now, that it would turn awkward, or he’d get tired of you and disappear from your life as quickly as he’d entered it. But none of that has happened yet. Instead he’s found a place in your routine, fitting seamlessly into your life like there’d always been a space for him. 

He’s come out of his shell more. He smiles easier, and the lines in his forehead from the constant furrow in his brow has eased somewhat.

You think maybe he feels just as safe with you, as you do with him.

Your phone buzzes in your hand.

(from mom, 2:34pm): Are you at work? Haven’t heard from you in a while. Your grandpa isn’t doing the best.

Three separate blocks of texts are suddenly overtaken by an old photo of your mom. The image causes your stomach to drop and you immediately flip your phone face down onto the table. You take a few deep breaths to try to calm down, but it feels like someone has shoved their hand into your chest and is squeezing as hard as they can. You press your thumb into the palm of your hand until your phone stops buzzing. Biting your tongue, you grab it, opening up your texts. You type out a response, only to delete it.

“I might be eating my words about waffles being shit,” Carmy’s sudden appearance makes you jump. “Woah, sorry. You good?” He slides your waffle order across the table.

“Uh, yeah. Just spooked me,” you put a smile onto your face, shoving your phone into your pocket. “Now go on, I love to hear I’m right.”

The first bite has his eyes widening, a hushed ‘shit’ leaving his lips before he can cover his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Word’s out, Carmy likes waffles!” He throws a napkin at you, causing you to cackle. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he takes another bite, waving you off.

Carmy eats like a monster, so messy and boyish it’s endearing. You match his pace, engrossed in the food in front of you, texts forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Syd walks over to where Natalie is peeking through a window. The younger woman glances outside where Nat is looking, and sighs, “You know they can see you if they look over here.”

“They’re literally oblivious. Does this happen a lot?” The blonde pulls out her phone to snap a photo. 

You and Carmy are a few feet away from the front door of The Bear. You’re chatting, and it’s easy to tell that neither of you want to be the first to leave. Carmy is hovering next to you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Don’t take a – yes, this happens a lot. Like once a week, or something.”

Natalie whips around to face her, “And you haven’t told me?!”

Syd shrugs, “I don’t know. I was worried it was going to be like…last time. It doesn’t matter, it’s not my business.”

“What do you think they do?”

“Rob banks — who knows, Nat. It’s not affecting work and he’s been less of a douche lately so I’m not complaining.”

“Are the lovebirds outside?” Richie comes out of the kitchen, adjusting his tie.

Natalie turns to him, “What do you know?”

“Oh my god,” Syd groans. “I’m going to go prep, before this turns into a whole thing. Richie, don’t fuck this up for us.”

The man gives a two-finger salute, “You got it, boss.” At Nat’s pointed look he holds his hands up, “Alright, alright, chill out. Look, I’m not trying to fuck with anything, okay? The place has a good thing going for it right now, so if that means we let the kids disappear for an hour or two once a week, I’m cool with it.”

Natalie frowns, “It’s not that I’m not cool with it. I just—“

“Have to know what’s going on at all times?”

She sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “No…yes. Maybe? Things have been getting better but I just get worried.”

“Maybe we gotta let him decide who he wants to talk to and when. Forcing the conversation obviously isn’t working.” Natalie blinks at him in surprise, at which he laughs, “Something my therapist said.”

“You have a therapist?”

“Now don’t go spreading that around. It’s mainly to help Eva. I wasn’t planning on doing more than one stupid session anyways, but Point Pleasant out there convinced me one night when they were watching Eva, so.” Richie is never sheepish, but there’s an obvious fondness for you that Natalie can see on his face.

“Point Pleasant?”

The man screws his face up, “Yeah, it’s not sticking, is it? Mothman feels too on the nose. Don’t even get me started on that, it’s all my kid wants to read about now.”

Just how much change have you already caused in this family of theirs?

Natalie barely has time to dig into the thought when Carmy walks into the restaurant. There’s a smile on his face, one that falls slightly when he spots the two of them standing by the window.

“Hey Bear.”

“Hey, didn’t know you were coming by. I would’ve grabbed you some food or something. Have you eaten?”

Natalie blinks, shocked. She bites her tongue before she can ask where her little brother went. “I’m okay, Carm. Thank you, though.”

 “Yeah, no problem. Gotta help prep, but touch base with me before you leave?”

“Sure, Bear.” Carmy gives a nod, pats Richie on the shoulder, then walks through the kitchen doors. “What the fuck?”

Richie snorts at her words, “Yeah, I thought the same thing, too.”

(from carmy in the big blue apron, 10:34pm): Lights are on, but I don't see you. You good?

(sent 10:37pm): not having the best day, don’t really want to subject you to that.

You think that does it. Carmy usually doesn’t push it with you. There’s a crudely drawn line that the two of you dance around. You’ve shared just enough that you consider him a friend, but he hasn’t seen the darker parts. It’s easier when you get to take the mask off yourself — it’s much worse when it gets torn from your face without you saying so. Control slips from your fingers and no matter how hard you try to put the shattered pieces back together, it fails. 

(from carmy in the big blue apron, 10:41pm): You wouldn’t be. Feel free to tell me to fuck off though.

A laugh escapes your lips, and you wipe the tears that steadily fall down your face. Few people in your life have seen you like this. There’s a very real worry in your head that it will push him away. The urge to run crawls up your spine. 

Desperate little rabbit.

Your fingers twitch, and you’re typing before you can stop yourself.

(sent 10:43pm): there’s a spare key in the hanging flower pot

You’re unsure if he’s still out front, but you can’t bring yourself to get off the floor. There’s static in your head that’s far too loud. You can barely feel your body and any grounding techniques you’ve tried haven’t worked.

He finds you in between the books, your back against one shelf, knees pulled up to your chest. He doesn’t say anything, but sits down opposite of you, legs extended. It takes a moment for you to look up at him, fear and shame filling up the back of your throat. You fight the tears that well up, grimacing. 

“Fuck,” you sob, pushing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets. “You really don’t need to be here right now.” You inhale, almost choking on the spit and mucus in your mouth.

There’s pressure against your left side, and you lift up a hand to watch Carmen nudge his leg against yours. “I, uh, have panic attacks, sometimes.” You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve — gross. “They were bad, before I came back home. But they got worse after…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Shit, what I’m saying is…if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. Not anything you don’t want to.” 

You don’t say anything for a while, but Carmy continues sitting next to you. He doesn’t make a run for it, like the thoughts in your head predicted he would. It’s just you and him under the warm lighting of the bookstore. The heat from his leg has melted into yours, softening you enough to let the overwhelming feelings leave you.

Inhale. Hold four seconds. Exhale.

He's doing your breathing technique, you realize. Carmy might not even notice he's doing it, but you copy him until the lingering panic fades.

Your pinky reaches out from where it was clenched into a fist, brushing against his hand that’s resting on his bent knee. His eyes shoot over to you, and a wry smile tugs at your lips. “Bet you weren’t expecting this when you came over tonight, huh?”

His brow furrows, fingers catching yours, “It’s okay, really.” Your hands entwine, Carmen’s thumb moving back and forth across your knuckles. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to fight the onslaught of tears for an entirely different reason.

He's sweet. So much so that you don't know what to do with it.

“Thanks, Carmy.” You let your head fall back to rest against the shelf behind you, already feeling a migraine start to form behind your eyes. “It was stupid. I dropped my phone and it bounced off a table and hit my foot. It didn’t even hurt, but it was the thing that broke the camel’s back, I guess.” Thoughtlessly, your fingers have started to trace the tattoo on the back of his hand, the motion soothing you. “This week has been shit. Little things, stacking up.” Running out of vanilla syrup, sleeping through your alarm one morning, your car needing a new battery. “And my mom called. Has been calling. She doesn’t stop. Every day she calls and every time I can’t bring myself to pick up because I know it’s just going to make me feel worse. Haven’t heard from her in months and now all of a sudden she won’t leave me the fuck alone.” You spit the words out, “She only talks about herself and when she even thinks to ask about me she never really cares. It’s like she has this idea of me in her head, that I’ll never be — that I don’t want to be. I can’t meet her expectations. I’m not her perfect little girl anymore and I wish I could just scream that in her face but anytime I talk to her it’s like I’m suddenly…” it’s half a scoff, half laugh, “…suddenly I’m in that house again and I just stand there, not saying anything.” As if realizing where you are, you pull away from Carmy, curling back into yourself. “Shit, I really didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.” 

Your relationship with your mother is complicated. It’s layers upon layers of things that you barely have time to dissect. You’re known to be a runner. A new place, new job; you can remake yourself as many times as you want. As much as you think it’s easier, your heart hurts just the same. She doesn’t call you by your name. She can barely treat you with common decency and yet she sends you money when you need it. She loves you, but not how you want her to. It’s the best you’ll get from her. 

But you’ve experienced better than that, from people who’ve known you less. It puts everything into perspective — a big, red warning sign. You’ve crafted masks to fit your face into exactly what people want from you your entire life. You’ve tugged them from your skin in sheets, desperate to figure out who you are under the layers upon layers you had built to protect yourself. You’re finally starting to like yourself.

You’d hate to fuck it up.

Carmy’s quiet; you’re getting ready to sprint. Or backpedal. Anything to—

“That’s fucked.”

It’s the first time that your gaze meets his. Blue eyes reflect the fairy lights above you. Your heart is thundering in your ears. 

“It’s fine, I know how to handle it, usually.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Something passes through his gaze, like he’s seeing something else for a second, but it passes with a huff. “Look, I get it, the expectations thing. It’s not all the same, a-and I’m sure there’s way more to it then just…what you’ve said.” 

“Carmen—”

“You don’t need to change, is all I’m saying.” Before you can respond, he gets off the floor, knees popping. His hands are held out for you, and you’re reminded of that night at the end of Natalie’s driveway. You’ve touched his hands tonight more than you have the entire time you’ve known him. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.” At your scrunched face, he hums, “I can make grilled cheese.”

“You’re playing dirty.” You let him pull you up, wiping at your face. “I probably look like a mess.”

“Lemme see,” he murmurs. He looks you over, making a point of brushing imaginary dust off your shoulders. “Nah, you’re good. It’s dark enough that nobody will be able to tell.” 

He’s offering you a reprieve; it warms your insides. You take it, letting the achy emotions be folded and put away to be processed later.

You pout, “With the bright lights in your kitchen showing how blotchy my skin is?” Even the idea of the white lighting bearing down on you makes your oncoming migraine twinge.

Carmy helps you collect your things, bending down to grab your phone from its place on the floor. “We don’t have to go to The Bear. My apartment isn’t too far.”

Your heart skips a few beats.

“Your place?”

He’s looking at you again, “Uh, yeah. If that’s fine. Didn’t want the lights to hurt your eyes.”

How can he see you so well? How can he walk right through your carefully built walls?

Maybe because you've given him the map. Bit by bit, piece by piece.

He’s grabbed your keys now, tote too. It’s thrown over his shoulder, looking every bit like he’s ready to hit the Saturday Farmer’s Market. You’d giggle if you weren’t so exhausted. 

“Okay.”

“S’fine?” At your nod, he says, “I can drive, then drop you off at home, after. Didn’t see your car outside at all. Or, I could just drive you home now. Whichever.” He’s nervous, hand tightening on the strap of your bag. 

“I want my grilled cheese,” you whine, gravitating toward him.

He laughs, “Alright, alright.” Urging you out the front door, he turns and locks it. “I’ll grab some stuff from the restaurant, my car is parked in the back. You want to go and warm it up?” Carmy digs around in his own pockets, tugging out his own keys, detaching the car fob and holding it out for you. 

Mama Bear.

The thought has you biting your lip to keep the grin off your face.

It’s a quick walk to The Bear, and as he waves you off, you call out his name. “My stuff?” His cheeks flush — is it from the weather or you? He shrugs your tote bag from his shoulder, and you take it from him. “Won’t be too long?”

Carmy coughs, voice a bit higher than normal, “Yeah, like five minutes?” He turns, “You go ahead. There’s an extra sweatshirt tossed in the back somewhere, if you’re cold. It’s almost November and you don’t have a real jacket, you’re gonna freeze.” That last part is mumbled you barely hear it. 

Your breath catches, and you press the palm of your hand into your chest.

Please, let me keep this.

Thoughts whispered into the wind, to the universe. A silent plea. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.

It’s the smile he gives you — after he opens the driver’s side door, handing you a plastic bin filled with cheese and a loaf of bread — when he notices you’re wearing the sweatshirt he offered you, that just affirms your thought. You want him to keep smiling at you like that.

The fluttery feeling spreads from your chest to your limbs; your fingers tingle like they’re waking up from sleep. It doesn’t catch, but settles into the warmth you’ve come to affiliate with Carmy’s presence.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, “thinking about that grilled cheese.” You peer into the bucket he’s given you. “So fancy.”

“You’re sleep deprived.” He put the car in reverse, putting his hand behind your headrest to look behind him. You live up to his words, because you head butt his arm with your forehead gently. It’s not something you would normally do — if you were more awake, if your migraine wasn’t pulsing. But you’re tired, and Carmy has given you more comfort than you know what to deal with, it’s spilling over your edges. You don’t see him react, and let him pull his hand back so he can drive. “You got the aux?”

You give a two-fingered salute, “Tune master, to the rescue.” The laugh you pull from him — gentle, a bit exasperated — is filed away for later. You’ll hoard it, along with every little bit of himself he gives to you.

Inhale.

Let me keep this. 

Exhale.

You’re in his kitchen.

His actual kitchen, not the big, fancy one that he’s known for. Dingy, warm lighting on above the stove, messily written notes to himself about recipes on his fridge. He hasn’t had someone at his place since…

He shakes the thought away, determined to make you feel better. The buzzing anxiety he thought he’d have hasn't made an appearance, and he’s locked into making you the best damned grilled cheese you’ve ever had (again). He may not be the best with words, but he can do this. 

You’d asked him fairly quickly after you got to his place, if he would mind if you smoked a little before eating. “It’d help me get an appetite, and help my brain a little bit,” you had said. “If it would bother you though, I won’t.” You had seemed nervous to ask; Carmy wonders if you’ve ever smoked in front of anyone.

(You hadn’t. But you also hadn’t had a meltdown in front of anyone either. Plenty of masks have come down tonight, what’s another?)

He had shown you to the tiny patio, watching you through the window as you blew smoke through your lips. You were only out there for a few minutes, coming back in looking a little sheepish. You’d poked around his living room a little, before meandering your way to him.

Inevitably, you end up sitting on the kitchen counter that juts out from the wall. You’re sipping on a can of pop — through a plastic straw you had floating around in your tote bag — going between scrolling on your phone and peering over to see what he’s doing. He’s shredded the cheeses he’d brought home, layering them onto some spare sourdough. A mix of softened butter, mayo, and garlic powder has been spread thinly across the slices. It’s set into the frying pan with a slight sizzle, when movement catches his eye.

You’ve grabbed a pinch of cheese from the plate, shoving it into your mouth so fast he barely catches it. You hold your hand over your lips, hiding the evidence.

“Did you just—”

“Woah, that’s crazy,” you look around with wide eyes, “did you see that? Some random guy just ran in here and stole some cheese! I tried to stop him and everything!” You’re laughing at your little stint, and he can’t help but join you.

“Oh yeah?”

You lean forward, snatching another handful, “Oh my god, he just did it again!”

He waves his spatula at you, “I saw you!”

You use your other hand to cover his eyeline. “How dare you accuse me of thievery, Carmen!” you exclaim, muffled by cheese. He bumps your knee with his hip, failing to hide his grin, and you poke his thigh with a sock-covered foot. He’s tired; you are too, but both of you are used to the exhaustion. Fatigue giving way in the early hours for something else, soft and silly.

Got a sneaky one there, eh, Bear?

You fit nicely into his space. His sweater suits you, too.

He finishes the sandwich quickly, sliding it onto a plastic plate, before turning to hand you your food. A gentle laugh escapes him when you do your little “happy food dance” as you grab the plate from him. He watches as you nibble on the corner, easing closer to you.

There’s that pull again. One Carmy doesn’t bother to fight. How could he, when you’ve done nothing but make him feel like a person? He’d make another billion grilled cheeses, if it meant he got to see you enjoy it every time.

“Carmy.”

“Hm?”

“Bite?” You hold out half of the sandwich out to him, and he steps between your knees, where you sit criss-cross on the counter. He grabs it from you, and you share the late-night snack in the dim lighting of his kitchen. When you’re both done — plate set on the counter, hands wiped free of grease on a paper towel — Carmy lingers.

It takes him by surprise when your fingers brush against his forehead. He freezes, letting you tug softly on a stray curl. A light huff comes out your nose, like you’re laughing at a joke only you can hear.

Carmy thinks this might be the closest he’s gotten to peace.

“Thanks,” you murmur into the quiet, “for being with me while I was…”

“Yeah, no problem.” He braves the prick of anxiety, the voice in his head telling him he doesn’t deserve this, giving your calf a gentle squeeze where he knows your Mothman tattoo hides under your jeans. 

You haven’t run away yet.

In fact, the way you lean into his touch, your own hand drifting from his forehead to rest on his shoulder, only makes him want to touch you more. It’s a desperate thing, one that comes out of nowhere. You've trusted him with something; you've let him care for you, in the way he knows how.

"Can I hug you?" The question, whispered into the quiet, knocks the wind out of him.

"Y-yeah," he all but falls into you, arms wrapping around your waist as you pull him in by his shoulders. You rest your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his back with one hand.

He squeezes you instinctively, and you squeak in surprise, before dissolving into giggles. You pull away just enough to see his face, "I didn't think you were much of a hugger."

"M'not."

You hum, eyes searching his while you run your fingers up and down the length of his arms.

"I didn't think you were," he mumbles, "for what it's worth."

You shrug, "I am with people I'm close to. I know it's different for everyone. Or that some days I don't want to be touched, because I'm overstimulated, or something. It's okay, though?"

Better than okay. Maybe he's contact high, but he's sure that's not right. He's safe; not on edge, yet every nerve ending is alight because you've touched him.

He has no idea what the fuck is going on.

You've made him crazy. Or the sanest he's ever been.

Say something, dipshit.

Fuck, right. You're waiting for him to reply, eyes wide.

"S'cool. Nice." He coughs, "It doesn't bother me." Your nose is scrunched, cheeks puffed out. He pokes your cheek, "Did you want me to drive you home?" Carmy forces himself to back out of your space, going to put the dishes in the sink to be washed later.

"We could watch a movie?"

"I don't really have anything..."

"You don't have streaming services?"

He looks at you over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, "You think I have time to watch Netflix?"

"You can have my login. At least until it kicks you off." You hop off the counter, "We should watch a Disney movie."

His heart warms as you start to talk — mostly to yourself — about what movie to put on.

It's 2am, he's exhausted, but he's never been more awake.

[orionhelluvaranting]

Debunking the Myth about Stolass' Lack of Awareness

Justifying Stolass' harassment by his ✨unawareness✨ is such a popular tactic of the stans. "He didn't know his behavior makes Blitzø uncomfortable!" they say. "He was sheltered all of his life!" they say. Some of them are bold enough to headcanon Stolass as autistic even.

However, what if I say there's the scene - the one single scene - that wrecks all those statements about Stolass' unawareness? And just the one shot expresses the whole essence of my point. Do you want to see it? Okay, here it is:

If you didn't comprehend it (maybe you forgot this moment from the series) that's fine. I was going to analyse this anyway 🔎

Here's the context: S2E4, "Western Energy". Stolass, Stella and Andre-blah-blah are sitting at the cafe for privileged jerks and discussing S&S' divorce. Then Striker breaks into the building and fires a series of shots at the prince (all missed the target). Right in the middle of the shooting Stolass turns to Stella, looks at her evil smirk... and he gets it all! Immediately! This is literally what's happening. Stolass understood that his wife has put a hit on him. And how did he come up with that conclusion?

He! Just! Read! Facial! Expression!

The line that's addressed from Stolass to Striker confirms this unambiguously:

So what is the unawereness we could talk about after all this? No, really! Stolass not only identified Stella's emotion (schadenfreude) correctly but also connected it to the current situation and his wife's general attitude towards him from which he deduced the reason for Stella's emotion (she craves his death, therefore she's the one who put a hit on him). And all this in a matter of seconds. To the whistle of angelic bullets!!! Like usually people become less analytical in moments of danger. But here's Stolass suddenly showing us miracles of emotional intelligence! Bravo!

So why can't he apply the same tactic to Blitzø or Octavia? Why is he able to grasp emotions of his abuser - who he hates and despises - very easily; but he stays unaware for so long when it comes to his loved ones? Why it took him almost a whole day to see that Via doesn't enjoy being in Loo Loo Land (although she openly said this from the very beginning)? Why it took him nearly a year (!!!) to see that Blitzø doesn't enjoy being his "impish plaything" (although he made it clear constantly)?

Isn't he able to understand them? Or maybe just doesn't want to?

Draw conclusions by yourself. And those of you who wants a few more thoughts of mine - I'm gladly inviting you under the cut!

You know what's the funniest part? This little detail doesn't have any impact on the story! At all!!! You literally could cut it off, change the dialog between Stolass and Striker a bit and TA-DA! Nothing would've changed. Because Stolass doesn't remember that his wife tried to kill him. He doesn't take any precautions even! Like, apparently, Via spends almost the entire second season with her mother.... and Stolass' totally OKAY with this?! Huh?!?

Why was that moment pushed into the series regardless? Well, I think Viv just wanted to praise her babyboy.* Like, "Oh, look how smart and cool he is, not like that stupid cow, Stella!" But ironically this decision has exactly the opposite effect.

I mean, it's a normal thing not being able to understand something in a few seconds in an emergency. Just a normal thing. Honestly, see no reason for judging. But if you, Stolass, have actually realised your abusive wife's desire for unaliving you and then you don't do shit preferring to chase your butty call while your precious daughter lives with that abusive wife of yours... Then I have a question:

Besides, as I just said, this all levels the whole "Stolass' unawareness" excuse to the ground. And you can't fix this by making excuses below your own video, Vivienne 🙄

If you want your audience to grasp something, then you should follow the "Show, Don't Tell" rule. Also it wouldn't hurt you to try and not contradict yourself. This time you had every chance to do so but you've just missed it... Congrats?

So what was the point?!

*By the way something similar was showed at "Oops" when Stolass stayed with Ozz (for some unclear reason) and explained to him - the Deadly Sin - how deals with the Deadly Sins are working! Yeah, what a nice fellow Stolass is, saved helpless dumb Ozzie from losing everything! Isn't that adorable everytime Stolass needs to look smart somebody must lose all of their braincells? Looks like somebody doesn't beat the Gary Stu allegations, huh?

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

I think Whb is a very autistic experience, even more than other fandoms. Let me explain.

1. They speak very ackwardly

One of the first things you’ll notice while playing whb is that it is very weirdly translated. It’s like they took the koreean text, put it into google translate and didn’t have anyone edit it. Words are not placed in the correct order, stuff is repeated constantly, everyone (especially the MC) don’t seem to grasp how normal human speech is supposed to sound. What did it for me the first time was the “he scolds me with words” which was so bad it made me take a break from the game.

But it’s voiceacted.

Someone other than the writer (I refuse to believe there’s more than one) had to see the text and read it out loud. Yeah, its in Koreean and maybe the koreean text is better, but still. When you see badly written stuff on the internet, you just assume that said person doesn’t know English, but when it’s voiceacted it wierdly feels like the text is correct or that the error is somehow intentional.

As someone with both dislexia and autism, the way whb is writen makes me feel very seen. Those weird sentences, the internal monolog that does more to confuse than to elucidate are how it feels like to read my writing. I don’t really know how speaking works and putting it in writing adds another challenge to the already difficult task. I trully believe that if only they had one editor to come and look over their stuff it would be more coherent, but it would lose the particular charm I grew fond of…

2. The MC is very clearly autistic

I’m not exactly a conosur (7 years of french and this is still my level) of Preetybusy ips, but I did play a bit of every game they released and I can say that MC being autistic just seems to be a thing they always add.

I think the writer at preetybusy is autistic because I don’t know how else to explain some of these things.

As stated before, Mc in particular gets some of the strangests lines, especially during the nsfw scenes. Does that mean that they have a speech impediment? I sure hope so. The thing is that even when the writing is ackward it still somehow feels like something MC would think.

Secondly, MC is extremely picky with who they talk to and actually engage with. We see that they like Minhyeok because he’s basicly their caretaker, but Minhyeok says that he takes MC out to hang out with other people and they always stay close to him and only him. MC seems incapable of making the type of small talk that is expected at meetings like this… almost like they’re autistic and have a funky way of expressing themselves, leading to people being offput by them. Just saying.

Thirdly, Mc has a special interest in sex. They don’t just watch porn to get off, even when the devils come out with some more niche kinks, MC is just like: “Oh, I know that one” and plays along. I don’t care how kinky you are, there’s no way you would have intimate knowledge on so many fetishes if porn didn’t do a little more than arouse you.

Fourthly, MC is weird. Just fucking deranged, I grow to love them more with every word I type out. We know very little about MC because everytime we learn something new people throw a tantrum over it, but the little with know is just so fucking tragic and funny at the same time. MC is someone that has some out of the box interests and due to that and their speech problems they get isolated and the only time they feel at home is when they get kidnapped to hell where every single character is autistic.

There’s this small scene in I think Levi’s selfie story, where MC is bracing themselves for a social interaction and being anxious about saying or doing something weird and ruining the whole event and it pierced right into my soul. Mc has autism

3. The devils have autism

This one is a lot easier. Usually when writers want to make a species that isn’t quite human they just write someone with autism. Robots, fairies, dragons, ghost, if its not human, then it’s autistic.

The demons have no concept of personal space or boundaries, they have the same weird speech patterns, they’re kink is half their personality, they have two people that they’ll do anything and everything for, they can’t lie, most can’t read social cues, they’re autistic.

And that’s why they fit in with the MC so well. Because as an autistic person, you start realising that in order to get that emotional fullfilment you desire you must stick to other’s that are like you. Not to bring Luceafarul into this, but in order to get that strong meaningful relationship where you both love eachother more than anything else on earth, the love where you feel like being away from that person is a crushing weigh, the love that makes you wish you would sacriface everything just for an hour of spending time with them… you have to do it with another autistic person. You won’t get that from neurotypicals because a relationship means something else to them. They prefere the aesthetics and you have to play this 4d chess with them in order to realise what they want and if you read it incorrectly then you risk that person breaking up with you for seemingly no reason. For them a relationship is simultaniasly mendatory but also something you’re supposed to only enjoy for a little while.

This is a psa to date autistic

In conclusion, I think that whb is autistic and that’s partly why I always find myself coming back to it.

[someverygaymoth]

Nightmare's boys giving him Crow trash/autistic pocket wonders as gifts pt.2:

Horror brings him a snail shell from the garden.

"Boss, lookit this."

Nightmare looks up from his book, trying not to look as startled as he is by the sudden voice and aura of excitement in such close vicinity. Horror has a way of sneaking up on people, for as big a monster as he's become by now.

"Din't mean to startle ya, boss." He only looks mildly apologetic. Still, genuine enough.

It's at this point that he realizes his tendrils are sharpened and raised over his shoulders in preparation to attack. He forces himself to relax, sighing a little. "It's quite alright, I was simply engrossed in my literature."

"Whatssit about?"

"Death, mostly."

"Rough..."

"Quite, but rather eloquent..." Nightmare blinks at him, observing the soil between his joints and dirtying the cuffs of his sleeves. He's holding something. Right, "did you need something?"

"Oh, yeah, I found this." Horror opens up his hand, showing off a small, round shell. It's a light brown, unassuming. "It's a snail shell."

The corpse of a small land mollusk. He recalls finding them with his brother under mossy logs or along their mother's roots

"Fascinating..."

"I know," Horror says softly. "They're born with these shells, then they leave em behind. Isn't that somethin..."

"That it is. Something." He's not entirely sure what happens when he dies, you know, on account of never having done it before. Though, if he had to venture a guess, it'd be something like the death of an ordinary monster. Nothing but dust left behind. Maybe his true form would survive undamaged, maybe he'd simply pop right back up somewhere else, maybe he wouldn't dust at all. He's much more keen on testing that theory with a certain ray of sunshine than himself, however.

"Ya want it?"

"The corpse of this land mollusk?"

"Uh... yeah?" Horror laughs a little. Amusement wafts off him. Nightmare doesn't understand what he finds so funny...

Night scoffs, looking at the small shell within Horror's grasp. It's... he's unsure what exactly to think about it. "Hm, fine. I'll accept it."

Horror grins at him, closing his hand and moving to turn away. Nightmare grabs him by the wrist and squints at him. Horror seems even more amused by this. "What's up?"

"Where... I thought you were offering it to me?"

"It's covered in dirt, I was just gonna wash it off fore I gave it to you."

"You act as if I've never touched a little dirt before," Mare huffs.

Horror's amusement grows by the second. It's irritating. "Kings rarely do."

Nightmare rolls his eye, "some kings. Foolish ones." He holds out his hand.

Horror places the little shell in his palm, smiling. It looks much bigger in his palm than it did in Horror's. He thinks of where he'll put it... a shadowbox, maybe? A shelf...? He can think of a few shelves...

"Whatcha thinkin?"

"Only of how ridiculous you mortals are..."

"Ya love us."

Nightmare prickles, scowling at him, "that's frivolous. You forget yourself."

[street-smarts00]

Hello, i would like to request a short little spencer reid x reader, since spencer is kind of autistic coded and he is shown to not understand some jokes or takes things literally, can you do one where reader is the same way, and somebody says a joke that neither of them get and everyone else around is like... wow they are perfect for eachother... and they are just so confused

Drabble: Sweet Like Sugar

A/N: I love this idea! Thanks for requesting! The only joke I could come up with is one from an episode of FRIENDS. Here's a lil dabble before I go into finals. I’m so mentally done with school and can’t wait for summer vacay in a week.

~560 wc

It was early in the morning and your coworkers were just showing up for work. You quickly dropped your stuff off at your desk before practically running towards the coffee maker. 

When you approached the counter Morgan was there preparing a fresh batch of coffee. “Hey sweet thing, how’s your morning been?” 

“Ask me after I have caffeine in my system. Maybe then my eyes will stay open,” you answered plainly as you reached for your mug.  

Morgan chuckled at your answer as he grabbed the coffee pot. “Well feel free to take the first cup.” 

The corners of your mouth turned up as you handed him your mug. “Thanks Morgan.” 

The two of you continued to make your coffee as Spencer approached looking for caffeine. When he saw you his eyes brightened. 

You and Spencer had just started dating and were feeling the buzz others might call “the honeymoon phase.” Spencer however would argue that what he was feeling was more than that. What he felt for you he felt long before you started dating. 

“Morning,” he greeted with a small smile reaching for the coffee pot. 

“Morning Spence,” you replied gleefuly. 

Morgan raised an eyebrow with a slight smirk. “How come he gets a warm welcome?” 

You pointed at your cup, “I told you, ask me when I have coffee.” 

He chucked, “That or your boyfriend?” 

Your eyes squinted at him as you tried to hide a smile. 

“Do you guys know if there’s any extra sugar?” Spencer asked. 

You turned back around to face him. “There isn’t any in the cabinet?” 

“No, it’s empty,” he replied as he pushed away things in his search for sugar. That small pout on his face you found to be adorable.

“Hold on, let me look for some.”

“Maybe stick your finger in his coffee, that’ll sweeten it up,” Morgan joked before taking a sip of coffee. 

Both you and Spencer froze to look at him with confusion plastered across your faces. Morgan could practically see the gears turning in your heads. 

“Why would she stick her finger in my coffee?” Spencer asked with a puzzled look. 

“That’s so gross. I wouldn’t do that to him, he hates germs,” you grimaced. 

“I didn’t mean it literally,” Morgan defended.

The joke was still lost on you both. You stood there trying to make sense of what Morgan said.

“It’s because you have such a sweet personality that touching his coffee would sweeten it up. Especially because he likes an ungodly amount of sugar,” he explained. 

A look of realization dawned on you both with quiet “oohs.” 

Morgan couldn’t help but smile at the reaction. He always knew you and Spencer would end up together. You were both so similar; your chemistry undeniable. You two acted like love sick puppies around each other, and it happened more often now that you started dating. Morgan would never complain though, he was pleased to see you both happy and with your person. 

“Wow, you guys really are perfect for eachother,” he remarked before walking away from the kitchen. 

You and Spencer both turned to each other and shrugged, not fully grasping what he was insinuating. 

“Hey Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

You finished stirring your creamer in your coffee, “Would you say I’m sweet? Like Derek said?” 

He wrapped his arm around you and leaned down to kiss your temple before whispering in your ear. 

“The sweetest.”

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

I Need You To

Casey Novak x autistic!fem!reader Warnings: pure fluffy fluff, established relationship, injury, hospital, coming to terms with a disability, insinuations of sex Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After a serious injury, you're diagnosed with a disability that inhibits your day-to-day life. There are accessibility tools you can use, but you're self-conscious about using them out and about. Your girlfriend, Casey, is there for you every step of the way.

"Hey, Case, can you grab my glove?" you called, double-knotting the laces of your cleats. You were jittery with excitement. It was your first softball game since last October, when you'd broken your ankle running to first. And then played through it. And then fallen again and slammed your head into the ground and passed out. You'd woken up in an ambulance with a teary and terrified Casey grasping your hand so hard she almost cut off circulation. She was livid when she found out later that you'd been hurt and kept playing.

But you were better now. Well... mostly better. At the emergency room after the game, the doctor had examined your x-ray, MRI, and EEG results.

"It looks like you've broken this bone in your ankle before?" he said, frowning.

"I have."

Casey whipped her head around to look at you, her eyebrows a question mark. The doctor stared at you pointedly.

"How many times exactly?" he asked.

You felt yourself shrinking under Casey's hard gaze. "Uh... this ankle? Three times."

"In how long?"

"The, uh... the last five years."

Casey's jaw dropped and you winced. You were gonna get an earful on the way home.

"What about the other ankle?"

You felt like you were digging yourself a deeper and deeper grave.

"Twice."

"Any other broken bones? In the last five years?"

You listed them off, trying to avoid Casey's eyes.

"My thumb, my wrist, a toe or two."

"Any falls with seemingly no cause?"

"Yeah."

"How many?"

You glanced furtively at Casey. "More than I can count."

The doctor nodded and asked you a few more questions. Casey sat beside you, fuming, as you answered.

At the end of the visit, you had two crutches, a boot cast, some heavy-duty pain meds for your concussion, and a referral to a genetics clinic.

"I think you might have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome," the doctor had said.

Casey googled the condition all the way home.

"Y/N, this is serious," she said earnestly, supporting you as you hobbled through the door of your apartment.

"I don't know. None of that stuff you said about it sounded too bad. I'm just super flexible, basically."

Casey rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, and apparently break every bone in your goddamn body on a regular basis."

When you were scared, you froze. You always froze. Casey did not. Casey made sure you scheduled your genetics appointment. She made sure you went. And when the geneticist confirmed the Ehlers-Danlos diagnosis, she was the one who asked what things you could do to help the condition, while you stayed silent, anxious and overwhelmed.

You just wanted everything to go back to normal. So what if you broke a bone more frequently than everyone else? It was no big deal.

"It is a big deal if it keeps you from doing things you love," Casey argued on the way home. "And if there are things you can to do to get better, you should do them."

"I guess so," you conceded, staring out the window of the cab.

"Y/N," she said, gently grabbing your face and turning it towards her when you didn't answer.

"Why can't you just let it be, Casey?" you whispered.

"Because you deserve to live the best life." She looked at you so intensely you had to look away. "You deserve to live without fucking breaking a bone every year. You deserve to play softball if you want to and run if you want to and not look at the fucking ground the whole time when we're on a hike because you're so scared you're gonna fall and break something."

You glanced at her, surprised and a little ashamed. "I didn't know you noticed that..."

"You love being outside. I'm gonna notice if you're looking at tree roots instead of a mountain vista. I just didn't know why."

You looked away, anxious about the Ehlers-Danlos. Anxious about what you'd have to do to make it better. Anxious that all those things wouldn't make it better in the end, would all be for nothing.

"Hey," she said wrapping an around you and planting a kiss on the side of your head. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

You nodded and exhaled quietly. "Okay."

Now, after months of healing and then more months of physical therapy, you were finally cleared to get back out on the field. You couldn't play catcher anymore—unnecessary strain on your ankle and knee joints, the physical therapist said. But you'd been practicing playing third base with Casey, and you'd grown to enjoy it almost as much as playing catcher.

"Casey, come on!" you yelled, tapping your foot on the floor. "We're gonna be late!"

Casey sauntered in, team uniform on, softball bag slung over her shoulder.

"I put your glove in the bag," she said, then dropped a pair of AFOs in front of you. "Put 'em on."

You hated them. You hated the way they looked, like some kind of plastic, kiddie Forrest Gump contraption. You hated that they altered the way you walked, the ease with which you could run and twist and reach.

You shook your head. "You know, I don't think I need them. I've been doing the exercises and stuff. My joints are stronger now."

"Y/N." Her voice was forceful as she squatted down in front of you. "Put. On. The AFOs."

"No," you said, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. "I'm telling you, I don't need them." You stood, making a move toward the door.

The pure, physical fact of the matter was that Casey was bigger and stronger than you. She didn't manhandle you often, but she did now. She grabbed your shoulders and shoved you back down onto the chair, huffing as she pulled off one cleat and then the other.

Now you were both mad.

"Casey, it's my fucking decision," you argued, trying to wrench your foot from her grip as she slipped the AFO over your softball sock. "I don't want to wear them! I hate wearing them!"

"I need you to!" she yelled, her face flushed, looking at the ground.

You watched her, your anger dissipating as you saw the worry in her eyes.

"I need you to," she repeated, softer this time. "I don't want to carry your body off the fucking field again."

You were both silent and still for a moment, Casey's hand resting on your leg, yours running gently through her hair.

Casey resumed her work on the AFOs, gently pulling on one and then the other, tightening the Velcro straps, forcing your cleats over them. You let her.

"There," she said, looking up at you. "Was that so bad?"

You hadn't worn the AFOs out yet, not where people could see them. You always had on sweatpants or joggers or jeans, something that covered them up. But with your softball shorts on, everyone would be able to see.

You avoided Casey's eyes, your hands shaking at your sides.

"Y/N," she sang, taking your hands gently in hers and flattening them, massaging the stress out.

"I look stupid," you whispered, trying not to cry. "Everyone's gonna make fun of me."

She cupped your face in her hands, looking earnestly into your eyes. "No one's gonna make fun of you, sweetheart." She brushed her thumb along your cheekbone. "And if they do, I'll kick their asses."

You nodded, still slumped in the chair.

"I think you look hot," Casey added, grinning slightly.

You rolled your eyes at her. "Yeah. Sure you do."

"I do," she nodded, moving her hands to your hips and planting kisses from your collarbone up to your neck. "In like a... cyborg, Inspector Gadget kind of way."

"What?!" you said, laughing. "That's so dumb."

She finally made her way to your lips, and the warmth of them took your breath away, made your stomach flutter.

"You know what's really hot about them, though?"

"What?" you replied, following her out the door.

She kissed you one more time for good measure. "It's one more thing I get to take off of you afterward."

You smiled, blushing. Maybe the AFOs weren't so bad after all.

[haikavehs-audhd]

Love and Deepspace Headcanons

Tags: sfw/13+ only (i can't write anything suggestive/smutty for my life), implied autistic/ADHD MC based off my experience, genderneutral/transmasc!MC because i'm a guy and all of you can fight me, some age regressor!MC x Caregiver!Sylus in his part (it is NOT a kink, do not associate it with that.), most of it is silly stuff about the LI and/or the relationship with MC because i'm mentally ill and like coming up with scenarios, some are self indulgement lol

A/N: Also want to clarify a few things: 1) I'm a Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb main and unfamiliar with the depths of Xavier and Zayne's personalities, so apologies if they're OOC, 2) I Do Not Have both Full Sets if Xavier's Lightseeker* or Lumiere Myths, both Full Sets Zayne's Foreseer* and Master of Fate Myths, Sylus' Abyss Sovereign Myth, or Caleb's Farspace Colonal Myth as of writing this, so anything that references them is due to spoilers I found on Twitter from other players doing in depth stuff, and 3) I. Am not a writer, I am an artist, so this might suck

*I have One Lightseeker and One Foreseer

Recommended Track for the entire thing:

MC and Xavier made matching Build a Bears to represent each other--MC's is a Pastel Swirl Pawlette, Xavier's is a Pastel Swirl Kitty (Names are up for interpretation)

🌟 Xavier 🌟

Has fairy lights and glow in the dark stars in his room/scattered around his apartment thanks to a suggestion by MCMC also has fairy lights and a string light set that has moons and stars. Xavier picked that one out

You know how it's canon that when they LIs are happy they show their Evols via Xavier glowing? What if it's just not happiness and with any extreme emotion?

Aka Xavier glows softly when he's happy, blinding when he's angry, probably super dim when he's upset/sad/hurt etc

He's probably the second warmest LI in terms of body heat cuz of the Light Evol

Give MC a weighted blanket and snuggling up to Xavier in the winter and them 2 are the happiest nappers ever

MC and him both infodump about astronomy together

MC probably taught him about astrology. He probably doesn't believe in it fully but indulges them, listening with wide intent eyes and blinking in code because he loves MC so much

"So you're upset because Mercury is in...gatorade?" "Xavier no--"

They have matching bunny onesies. Xavier's is white and blue, MC's is gray and pink

MC calls him Stardew after showing him Stardew Valley!!

They have a Meadowlands Farm and a buncha animals in, included modded ones

MC absolutely named one of their Rabbits after him

MC probably also plays Animal Crossing with him

Idk he seems like a Cozy Gamer ngl

MC tried to teach him to cook properly

It still doesn't work but. A+ for effort!

Much like his little secret blinking code, MC has a type of tapping/shape drawing code and will use their fingers to tap messages on his cheeks when they squish them!

His love language is Quality Time and Physical Touch

Tara, Andrew, and Simone tease them lightheartedly whenever they're at the Association. Jenna smiles and shakes their head

Holds hands under the desk when they're doing paperwork

Has probably watched Suzume or Your Name together!

Song(s) i associate with Xavier from my playlist: Starlight - Dreamcatcher, Fallen Star - The KingDom, Fireflies - Dreamcatcher, Moonchild - RM of BTS, Supernova - Aespa, Mikrokosmos - BTS

❄️ Zayne ❄️

That man is AUTISTIC and you can pry him out of my grasp WHEN I AM ROTTING 6 FT UNDER I WILL FIGHT ALL OF YOU

Has light sensory issues (that's why he always wears sunglasses stop making fun of him)

MC once stuck snowflake decals on his window. They have not left the window since

Zayne has one of those fat round seel pillows/plushies on his bed. MC gifted him that for Christmas when they were kids and he hasn't parted with it since

MC is kind of surprised but melted at the fact he kept it for all these years

LOVES when MC stress bakes, but also makes sure that neither of them overindulge. Health is important you know

MC's addicted to peppermints because of him. Zayne happily supplies them with the succulent mints (it helps with their anxiety and overstimulation)

I feel like Zayne would be the best at knowing ways to de-escalate a possible meltdown/anxiety attack

Especially with his Evol, he makes sure he can conjure up an ice crystal for MC to grasp so their brain focuses on the cold sensation instead of whatever caused the meltdown/anxiety attack

Speaking of his Evol, his extreme emotions are kinda. Elsa like in terms of it manifesting

Soft snowflakes falling gently around him when he's happy, harsh flurries and blizzards forming when he's angry as his neck and hands crystalize due to the curse, ice crystals forming in sharp #pikes around him, less rapid crystalization of his hands and neck forming when he's upset/sad/hurt as snow falls in wet clumps, etc

He's also the coldest LI body heat wise!!

MC clings to Zayne when the summer heat becomes too much and he's easily able to cool them down

Probably learned how to make snowcones using his Evol for them

They love it

The meal planner of the relationship!! He makes sure that they both have balanced meals and healthy foods in the kitchen

MC also sneaks in cute little love notes when they pack his lunch if they know he's gonna have a busy day!!

Things like "I love you, hope you have a good day!" "Stay warm today!" "Can't wait to see you!" Etc. Sometimes cheesy pick-up lines and poems are there

Zayne keeps all of them in a little drawer at his desk when he's doing smaller appointments/checkups/paperwork

On particularly hard days, he'll take one out, reread it, and gives the slightest hint of a smile

You know how he has dry humor? ...dad puns. That man can and will say Dad Puns

MC loves it tho

They had snowball fights w Caleb as kids

MC claimed he cheated though because of his Evol

Now that they're adults, they likely take walks through the snow and admire how sparkly it looks in the moonlight

MC absolutely sneaks an attack on him with a snowball though

It ends with them making snow angels and going home to make hot cocoa with marshmallows <3

His love languages are Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation

Nicknames from MC: Pear Bear, Sweet Tooth, Sweetums, Mr. Snowman, Doc

Songs i associate with Zayne from my playlist: In the Frozen - Dreamcatcher, Jamais Vu - BTS, Like Crazy (English Ver) by Jimin of BTS, The Apparition - Sleep Token (HEAVY on Dawnbreaker!Zayne for this one)

🐟 Rafayel 🐟

His love language is Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, and Physical Touch

MC made matching kandi bracelets for them!! He proudly wears his and has a fish charm, MC usually has theirs on when not on missions, in their pocket when they are, and has a seashell charm!

Gets art lessons from Rafayel and improves slowly over time

MC is probably more of a fanartist/OC artist

Absolutely made self inserts/OCs based off them and Rafayel

Rafayel absolutely adores them and makes a big deal of hanging up every piece of artwork they draw

Lots of moonlight picnics on the beach!!

Okay listen i know Moonlight Jellies are probably a Stardew Valley only thing, but imagine Rafayel plays into it and gets MC all excited about them as if they were real

MC gets very excited over the stories Rafayel tells them

Warmest LI!! His Fire Evol does wonders in the coldest of winters. He jokes it's only due to him being Lemurian though (it plays a part)

And when he feels extreme emotions? Oh watch out.

Tiny flames and sparks float around him when he's happy, burning infernos and possibly setting someone something on fire when he's angry, sizzling scorches when he's hurt or upset, etc

I also like to think he probably shot flames at the other love interests out of jealousy

Mainly Xavier or Zayne

Because i think he would know those 2 more due to stalking us (OG3 crumbs please take them)

Gets very dramatically pouty if you call him Ariel

"c'mon Rafa please sing A Whole New World for me? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻" "What? So you can tease me and call me Ariel again? No way"

Does it anyways

I'd like to think he saves his singing for very special occassions due to. Y'know. It being a way to manipulate people

And some special occassions include birthdays or when MC needs comfort after a nightmare and needs to be lulled back asleep

rises the moon by Liana Flores is probably the most common

He would sing it so softly

Ugh how much to pay the Eng VA to sing it in his voice.......i'll sell my kidney for it--

He likes listening to MC sing too btw, sometimes will join in for a duet

I think lovely by Billie Eilish ft Khalid would be a good match idk i'm mentally ill okay

MC once said Artsy Birb looks like Psyduck

And probably made him an Artsy Psyduck

That's hilarious to me idk

Nicknames to him include: Raf, Rafa, Fishie, Jellyfishie, Angelfish

MC peobably asks him to tell them stories about Lemuria to fall asleep to

He indulges every time

Is also slowly teaching them Lemurian and Sea Creature languages

Is very surprised when MC brings up a word in Lemurian he hasn't taught them

Probably tears up a little but shrugs it off with his antics

Oh and him and Sylus? Most likely to silent (but happily) cry when you walk down the isle

Very surprised if he finds out the extent of MC's "seafood" safe foods are fish sticks

"Fish sticks aren't seafood, my beloved..." "Wdym they aren't??? They're fish???"

Songs i associate with Rafayel via my playlist: Burn - The KingDom, Suzume - RADWIMPS ft Toaka, Sea - BTS, Black Swan - BTS, Can't Get You Out Of My Mind - Dreamcatcher, Bonvoyage (Farewell Ver) - Dreamcatcher

🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🐦‍⬛

Nicknames MC gave Sylus: Charizard, Toothless, Lord Faul (he did not understand that one, but lovingly and willingly heard MC out with their info dump on Dragon's Keep), My Dragon (he may have teared up a little. Just a bit), My Crow

Despite being a literal gang leader in a lawless land of sorts, he is the safest place you will ever know

Constantly fights MC on whether or not they can be spoiled

Bonus if MC argues because they have grown up pinching pennies/in rough times and hate the feeling because they feel like they owe the person now

"No Sylus, please, I can't allow you to do this--" "MC it's a $20 necklace that you've been staring at longingly for 6 months, please let me buy you it--" "NO I REFUSE TO ALLOW IT"

It was bought for them lmfao

Would absolutely....take care of any problems you face in terms of toxic friends or family members

I mean any of the LIs would but Sylus, Rafayel, and Caleb i feel would be the ones to take it to the extremes iykyk

"Kitten, is your sibling putting you down again?" "Yes, but you don't need to worry about it, I'm cutting them off--" "Are you sure you don't want me to take care of them?" "Sylus no-"

Realizes pretty quickly that MC age regresses due to repressed traumas and easily steps up to the plate of caregiver

When i say this man is the softest dragon alive to tiny space MC, i mean it

Melts when Age Regressed!MC colors in a Toothless coloring page with black and red and says it's Sylus

Caregiver!Sylus is called Papa Dragon, Sylus calls Age Regressed!MC his little one/tiny dove

Makes sure Age Regressed!MC is comfy, safe, happy, and warm and does everything to make sure they know this

If it lasts longer than a day, he makes sure to tuck them in and kiss their forehead gently

Maybe hums a song or two

Age Regressed!MC teases he's offkey the first couple times, but he's genuinely trying!!!

Always sings the lullaby Past!MC sang him, but never finishes it

Age Regressed!MC is asleep by then anyways

I'm not sure how his Evol would show in his extreme emotions. I presume energy flakes would float around him when he's happy, maybe the linkage glows brightly? I know when he's angry...ooh that shit snaps your neck quicker than you can think, upset/hurt? Questionable. Energy is strange idk--

He's a dragon. He purrs. It sounds like a demonic cat. It's soothing do not look at me like that--

He likes curing around MC and resting against their chest and purrs happily. If he had his dragon tail, it'd be wrapped around their leg softly

Sylus watches over MC at night. There's really no reason to, honestly, but because he's nocturnal and MC kinda isn't most times, he takes the time fully appreciating how at peace MC looks, seeing all the finer details of their face. How their lashes brush against their cheeks, how their hair falls in front of their face (if they have long hair, at least), how softly they breathe, etc

It's enough to make a grown dragon cry

Def often gives his chef a day off so he can cook for MC

MC always comes up and tries to jab him like his myth but he always catches them

Cue instant backhug

Very domestic husband coded oh my gods

Actually chuckled when MC brought home the Grumpy Crow plushie he won in the crane machine for them and instantly put them on the nightstand next to their side

"He needs to help Mephisto keep watch"

Speaking of Mephisto, him and MC def have a sorta sibling relationship where they wanna kill each other but also would kill someone if you fuck with the other

Luke and Kieran are def besties with MC and absolutely adore them

How could they not? They make the boss happy and he actually kinda smiles!

Luke, Kieran, and MC def have gossip time and shit talk about different celebrity/influencer news

Bonus if MC is latino/latina and calls it Chisme

Shit gets MESSY

MC insisted they all have a blanket fort movie marathon and watched all 3 Sonic Movies. Sylus enjoyed it and relates to Shadow a bit too much LMFAO

MC pranked Luke and Kieran once by putting cutesy stickers on their masks. They have spares imo, but they keep the ones with the stickers put up in special places so the stickers never get ruined when they're out working for Sylus

Once, Sylus came home to see the twins and MC in a cuddle pile with Mephisto resting on top, all sleeping peacefully. He may have snuck a photo.

Loves to put on his vinyls and slow dance with MC, it's a great bonding experience

He probably also asks MC to sing for him sometimes, like he knows they don't remember but he also Likes Their Voice So Much

Sylus' love languages are Acts of Service, Gift Giving, and Words of Affirmation

Songs i associate with Sylus via my playlist: Take Me Back to Eden - Sleep Token, Monster - Meg and Dia, Cure - AKUGETSU, Park Byeong Hoon (yes Round 6 Alien Stage Song shut up), Black Sorrow - Park Byeong Hoon, Gone - BANG&JUNG&YOO&MOON (aka B.A.P to me), 1004 (Angel) - B.A.P, Bleeders - Black Veil Brides

🍎 Caleb 🍎

Has a box full of gifts and trinkets MC has given him over the years

Probably has kept one of their old plushies that they outgrew/forgot as a reminder of MC

Also domestic husband!! Refuses to let MC do shit. MC argues playfully then gives up

They cook together, CALEB'S the one giving backhugs while MC cooks

He's also the reason they know how to cook

Secretly jealous of any and all classmates that had a crush on MC/asked them out

Used to help MC choose their outfits for different occassions

Him and MC learned the choreo for the Chopstick Brothers' Little Apple because MC said it reminded them of Caleb

They end up collapsing after and laughing

Caleb is a HUGE Mario Kart/Super Smash Bros player and gets super competitive with MC

I'm talking literal fist fights over it don't @ me

He cares for any bruises and wounds caused by it though

And kisses them better

MC is shit terrified of storms and he always is there, arms open, knowing their anxiety spikes even with the chip in his head

Has his hands over their ears to help muffle the thunder

This nerd probably got his ass handed to him in his younger years protecting MC, long before buff DAA Pilot/Colonel of Farspace, and probably worked out to help defend them better

Idk why but he feels like he'd secretly love anime/Kpop/Jpop/Romcoms

Just a fuckin nerd

Also a Girl Group stan. Likes Kara, 2NE1, Twice, T-Ara, Aespa, Le Sserafim, Illit, Itzy, etc etc you get my point

Absolutely knows about the other 4, his reactions to them are vastly diff though

Xavier and Caleb would have a jealousy off, should they somehow end up alone together. Both of them are possessive men, one would stalk the other and the other would hold his blade to his throat and tell him he does not care whether him and MC were raised together, stay the hell away. It's very tense

Zayne and Caleb obviously have known each other since childhood, but Zayne has absolutely no idea what Caleb has done nor the effects of the chip. He does notice small things, like how Caleb will glare at him while MC isn't looking, the slightly possessive arm wrap, the way Caleb leans closer when all 3 are out and about. Zayne doesn't do much though, at least not super obvious. He'll make it a slight competition, making sure MC's okay, telling Caleb it's fine because "MC is his patient, they're taken care of", making sure MC is eating well, his sentences losing the usual monotone tinge it has to show teasing, almost amusement at Caleb's antics. If Zayne knew though...oh, all hell would break loose and i'm sure we'd have a Dawnbreaker incident

Rafayel and Caleb would have the most explosive fights i think, not around MC though. Never around MC. Lots of arguing, Rafayel putting his daggers to Caleb's throat, Caleb pressing his military pistols to Rafayel's head, the both of them grinning like mad men. Viscious words being thrown around, threats being done. Words like "my beloved bride" and "I'm their protector" are used constantly. At the end of it all, they probably both pout when MC is around, leaving them confused because what the fuck just happened??? Hello???

Sylus probably doesn't give him much of any fight, just using half truths and sly, sarcastic comments to get under Caleb's skin. He knows Caleb knows that MC stayed with him in the N109 Zone, he's well aware Caleb knows of the warning he gave them about family being the biggest betrayal, and he uses it to his advantage. Caleb gets easily frustrated and pissed off, Sylus' words affecting him a lot, but he's perfected the art of hiding his emotions over the years, so the only way you know of this is the fire in Caleb's eyes

His Evol when he feels extreme emotions is also hard to pin down for how it activates. I'd like to think when he's happy, he himself floats, maybe MC if it happens to be a hug or kiss from them, not too high though. Or when he's angry, stuff gets thrown to a wall. Not sure about sadness/upset/hurt though...

His love language has all of em, but I think the main big one is Acts of Service and Quality Time

I feel like in their middle/high school days he tried to ask MC out for a school dance a la prom or smth similar and MC, not knowing much better, took it as a "my gege is gonna be my date because i have no one else, how sweet <3"

I wanna say MC probably also realized around middle/high school days that they had feelings for him, but never said anything due to fear of rejection or ruining the closeness

Likely they were both each other's firsts this lifetime. First kiss, first date, etc

Pre-Adoption!Caleb probably tried to fight the scientists and doctors that would experiment on him and kill MC over and over but he couldn't do a thing, being such a young child

Nicknames from MC: Applejack, Captain, Big Bro (when they were younger, used sarcastically in Present Day), CaBOOM (used very rarely and very sarcastically)

Song(s) that remind me of Caleb via my Playlist: 0X1=Lovesong (I Know I Love You) - Tomorrow x Together, My Clematis - Rubyeye, C!naH, Paranoia - Kang Daniel, Sandcastle - The KingDom, Cyberpunk - Ateez, Breaking Out - Dreamcatcher, Don't Leave Me - BTS, Error - VIXX

I hope you guys enjoyed it! All borders are from @thecutestgrotto :)

I probably would never do this again lmfao--this took so long and is super self indulgent i am so sorry

[wackywatchdotcom]

What do you think Queenie was like when she was around? What do you think about the HC of her potentially being on the spectrum?

i dont have a super concrete idea, but i do imagine, true to kingers word, that she was very funny and creative!!!

ive mentioned it before but i dont think she was actually an entomologist- just someone invested in it! (the only way i could see her being an entomologist is if, for some reason, c&a wanted an entomologist on board for... something? but thats a very biological field so i dont think this is the case). at most i think shed worked related jobs in the distant past, but nothing recquiring a degree in the field

despite this i do think she was just as weird as entomologists are. because theyre all weird and its great. every entomologist or person DEEPLY dedicated to entomology ive ever met has been eccentric in some way. i think she was like this. what this entails is ambiguous

(id use myself as a source but i think im closer to kinger in terms of knowledge on entomology, in that its above standard knowledge of insects but still not nearly as much as an actual entomologist has)

also i think she was bad at completely dialing down talk about insects. i think shed try but as she talks itd gradually veer right back into just her saying her own thoughts, complete with abbreviations and ento terms that no one else but her knows

she was definitely very funny and probably in like. a very goofy way. i think she was generally pretty composed but had a very lighthearted sense of humor. i think with her general like... demeanor of Knowing What Shes Doing that shed just Say Things that would catch people off guard in a very silly way

in terms of creativity, i dont imagine she was an artist (or if she was i think it was a recent skill she was learning- maybe gangle was teaching her...) but i do imagine she had a very good ability to problem-solve and generally had a really good grasp on methods of doing things. creative is the best way to put it again. she was clever!!

i do think she was probably the more grounded of the two, less jumpy and more prone to thinking about the situation the two were in (what with how kingers personality ties into his chess piece being a king, i like the idea that hers ties in too). it gave her more of a tendency to really think about it all which contributed to her abstraction :(

i dont think she waas TOOOO much more serious than kinger though... i think they were both huge goofballs and it was sweet

tbqh my idea of her is ALSO influenced by my favorite tadc fic that i read a few weeks back and am still obsessed with (metamorphosis by beepborpdoodledorp!! its REALY good). i like to imagine she was like how she is in this!!!!

in terms of her being autistic i am ALWAYS a fan of interpretting characters as autistic. i looove the idea of entomology being a special interest of hers (especially bc i can certainly relate), and even w the minimal knowledge we have of her i think it works really well. i think i could come up with more elaborate details abt this other than the surface level stuff but id need to think on it more...

(i myself try to avoid hcing a character as autistic and then just making it about having special interests since thats only one facet ofc, though w the little info we have on her its one of the easiest things to point to... i would love to have more ideas for it)

though, i know its implied to be an abstraction thing but i DO like the idea that she found bright lights overstimulating. i could see her finding MOST things in the circus overstimulating. if she were around to meet pomni i think theyd be able to connect over that (considering i hc pomni as autistic too but i dont wanna derail this w rambling abt that HAHA). the humor thing may have created strange moments though since i think pomni has very little sense of humor- or at the very least, a highly specific one that is hard to hit. maybe queenie could have managed to make her laugh...

either way i REALLY like the idea. autism entomology combo WIN!!!!!

[dreamsofbroflovski]

hiii again, I was the person who wrote about the dbd hc post and to write more hcs about kyle, when i wrote that i wasnt really thinking about something in specific, just general hcs about kyle hahaha, howeverr If you don't Mind there Are some ideas i've never seen and i think would be pretty cool (If you don't mind, of course):

- general hcs about His gaming taste (which games he likes,plays,his fav, etc) kyle plays (also would love to ser main 4, but since hes my pookie i focused on him XD)

- how he would be dating a brazilian reader

- main 4 + butters dating (or being friends) with a reader who has autism

you don't need to write all of them (or even write at all), just would love to see more of kyle 🙏🙏

ha. hahaha. ha.

anon, you are ve ry familiar with my game, aren't you?

because i swear this was me when i read idea #2:

for the uninitiated (which anon probably isn't), i AM brazilian, so this is right up my alley lol

unfortunately, i don't think i'm doing idea #3. i'm not autistic, i don't have a lot of knowledge on the subject, and to depict that properly it would require from me a type of research that i'm just incapable of doing at the moment

#1 might happen at some point though. we have a few snippets of the boys' gaming tastes in canon already, but i can always tell canon to fuck itself and just say my own thoughts on the subject

with that out of the way.

KYLE BROFLOVSKI HEADCANONS - DATING A BRAZILIAN READER

Admittedly, he was very intrigued when you first moved to South Park. Why the hell would you come from a tropical country all the way on the opposite hemisphere to a small town in the middle of nowhere in the states? And that’s like, one of the first things he ever asks you - because obviously he volunteers to be the one to hang out with you and show you around. As time passes and you two get together, he’s just secretly grateful that whatever it is brought you to his arms.

Confusion is this guy’s middle name for a while when he starts getting closer to you. Brazil is so very different from the US, but it’s also very different from other latin american countries - even though there are several similarities, some aspects of the culture are very unique, so there’s a lot of him questioning you about it going on.  

Obviously starts taking Portuguese lessons immediately, even if you’re fully fluent in English. It’s an investment, really - God forbid you two break up, he’d at least have the knowledge of a new language.

Once he gets a better grasp of it, starts saying love declarations to you in Portuguese in front of everyone else since they don’t understand the language, making you giggle and blush. Has the cutest little accent, too. The guys keep on asking what the fuck he was talking to you about, he just tells them to piss off.

He gives you gifts on Brazilian Valentine’s Day (which, to unaware readers, is not February 14th! It’s actually June 12th) as well as on American Valentine’s Day. He’s just always looking to spoil his lady, honestly, and an extra excuse for that is very much welcome.

Brazilians are big on family and community. So if you’re close to yours, he’s gonna be so happy and basically bend over backwards trying to get along in order to feel properly included. (Biological or found family! He’s doing that regardless.)

Somewhat disinterested in Brazilian music, to be honest. He’d hate Brazilian Funk and Samba with a passion. More classical MPB is fine, he likes it from an intellectual point of view.

Our literature, on the other hand? He likes it beyond belief. If you’re a reader, you two can have a little book club of your own because he keeps on finding and reading new books that he wants to yap about.

Avoid explaining Brazilian politics to this dude. He’s already at high risk of heart disease due to stress, we are not trying to cut his lifespan in half. (He ends up doing research on his own, and then it’s a whole mess because he keeps on asking rhetorical questions to show just how stupid some parts of it are)

Not fond of the tropical weather, I don't think he fucks with the beach at all for several reasons. If you’re from a coastal city, he’ll visit with you for sure, but he just prefers to do other stuff while he’s there.

Turns FERAL if he sees you in a Brazilian bikini. Crazy possessive if it's around other people, can't get his hands off you if it's in private. (I mean, that goes for any bikini, really. But there's something about the extra skin...)

Carnaval kinda triggers his Jersey side a little bit, lol. He will go with you to a ‘bloquinho’, complain for a while like he’s not enjoying himself, and then all of a sudden Kyley-B is there, wearing a tinsel wig and flip-flops and trying to fight a street vendor because the beer is too expensive.

The amount of proximity and public displays of affection in Brazilian culture freaks him out a little bit at first. He’d get jealous if you greet other men with a kiss on the cheek or a hug, stuff like that. That’s just not how he was raised - but he’ll get around to it eventually, especially if you reward him with a few kisses of his own in front of everyone

All in all, he’s actually adorable about it. He likes knowing stuff, so new cultures interest him greatly - and if he can learn everything there is to know about you, then that’s just the best way.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[creacherkeeper]

yall, its finally happening ... getting my tits shot off is simply so within my grasp 😭

i'm getting top surgery on january 8th 2024 and im so excited and so scared but im being so so brave about it

though i've tried saving the funds myself for years now, emergencies keep wiping them away, like vet bills, emergency moves, wage theft, a con artist roommate, you name it, its happened in the last two years. i never wanted to have to rely on crowdfunding for something so vital and important to me, but now that it's here im really calling on my community to help support me

top surgery is not only a dream come true as far as having a body i can finally call home, but also with living in one of the most conservative states in the bible belt as a trans, gay, autistic, disabled, jewish man, its a matter of safety as well. temperatures frequently reach 115f/46c in the summer here, and with some of my health problems, binding isnt always feasible in that kind of heat. but not binding also means i risk getting clocked, and i don't think i need to tell yall how bad that could go for me

i've really been scraping by on low wages for years as a social worker and now as a graduate teaching assistant. and the previously aforementioned vet bills, con artists, etc have just really squashed any hope i had for paying for this myself

it's not easy for me to ask for help, but it would genuinely mean the world if yall could share this around. i know this is the webbed site of unemployed disabled people and broke college students but every little bit helps

if not for me then please do it for my nanny, a 10 year old pit bull who simply loves to step directly on my tits and would really appreciate if i didnt weep and wail every time she did it

[ID: a photo of a tan pit bull wearing blue spaced-themed pajamas.]

godspeed little gay people in my phone and thank you!!

[dirtsoilmulch]

I saw ur tags on my post and consider….Autistic Nick…like high functioning, smells and gross stuff being sensory issues, having stims like smokin and fidgeting with his gun and/or rings, his shirt being silk cause texture issues etc etc. but curious about ur takes about the gangs neurodivergence! :3c I think Ellis being ADHD is canon for sure lol

WOOOO I GET TO YAP ABOUT MY FAVS HUZZAH:

nick:

definitely picky sensory-wise, but decent and high functioning socially. maybe a bit too blunt but it comes off as he's just a bitch instead of he's just autistic (those two ideas coexist btw. he's a autistic bitch)

arguably the world's number one hand sanitizer fan. but still particular about the kinds he'd use even in an apocalypse, just because there are some that don't dry right on his hands, don't smell good when opened, etc etc

EXTREMELY particular about his clothes. no wonder he complains about that 3000 dollar suit whenever he gets shit on it, it's the 'safe' one

(also only one considering the situation but shhhhh)

(i'm sure pre-apocalypse he had like 5 different pairs of the same suit)

fidget king. turning his rings on his fingers (definitely comfort items even if he doesnt admit it), unloading and reloading his guns, unbuttoning and rebuttoning his jacket. there's so much he would fuck with

he can make rings and shit when he smokes it's impressive

(i had a lot to say abt nick oopsie)

ellis:

my glorious adhd king

"I don't know what hd is but my doctor said I had 80 of them bitches"

he thinks too fast for his mind and body to keep up with so he'll just say shit (that's not even a headcanon he just does that)

IF we are entertaining the autistic ellis headcanon as well (we are) his special interest is cars. both mechanical stuff and stock car racing (nascar and the like)

((i may or may not have an f1 nellis au in my brain because l4d2 and f1 are my fav things rn... idc if a nascar au makes more sense f1 is more epic))

collects the mini hotwheels stock cars. just hotwheels in general. look at him he would

can and will list of everything he knows about any given subject he likes, but he'd get distracted making a reference nobody understands and then explaining it with another reference nobody understands

im projecting idc

struggles socially just because he lacks the ability to understand subtle social cues. you have to say it directly to his face and Then he'll get it

nothing is a sensory struggle. he fucks w literally everything even the weird shit. maybe the textures and smells of certain foods (probably fish)

rochelle:

honest to God i don't think she realizes that her dear survival team are all neurodivergent (but I doubt they even realize it themselves)

token neurotypical it's a hard job but someone has to do it

accidentally mimics the actions of the people around her (intentionally just to give them shit for it, but it becomes habit overtime). nick will fidget with his rings, she'll mess with her bracelets. ellis will stand with a wide cowboy stance, she'll copy.

would also be the type to respond for someone else just because she knows what they'll say, but in a very bad imitation of their voice

just rochelle imitating ellis' fuckass accent. (literally everyone imitating ellis' fuckass accent. nick does it in game bro)

nice enough to pick up on the tiny things of everyone else and offers little trades for preferred weapons and such

coach:

oh coach... how I love you...............

adhd

a similar vein to ellis where he just has a lot going on in his brain at all times, but since he's grown (possibly medicated) he has a better grasp on it

definitely talks to himself under his breath tho, it helps him lock in

struggles with volume level definitely not based on me and my friends playing with the loud coach friendly fire mod but he tries his best and will shut the fuck up when asked

coach telling dad jokes.... not even a related headcanon its just on my mind

really elaborate ones but he loses it midway thru and remembers like 4 hours later (but forgets the intro to the joke)

(now it's related)

would attempt to help ellis manage his adhd better but that guy does not listen (or care to listen)

this was an accidentally very long post (oopsie). send more asks l4d2 fandom i could yap for DAYS

[admirationandromantics]

unsure if you write for autistic!readers but if you do or wanna try i have a prompt! (youve probs already seen it LOLLL)

Chris x autistic reader where he has her ride him and talk about her interests turned into him fucking her while she mumbles against his chest or neck- too fucked out to keep talking properly and Chris just absolutely loving it <\3

I think if I were to write a story about this I’d need help with the talking material. Everything I think of just wouldn’t fit in. If you guys help me with this prompt a little more, I may maybe do it. (Again, maybe). Anyways, enjoy some headcanons on this topic in the meantime <3

Just keep talking

You just finished a documentary/show and can’t help obsessing over it. You google everything, reading what other people think and how it affects the bigger lines in the discussion, getting to know so much more about the subject. 

Chris comes in, sitting beside you and looking over at the laptop, unsure about what you’re doing. “What are you looking at?” “Reading about this thing” “What thing?” “Oh, don’t get me started” “I do, tell me” “If I start now, I’ll not be able to stop, trust me, this’ll take all night” you shush him away, continuing to read the paragraph. “Oh come on, please, I’m curious!” “Fine” 

You tell him all about it, sitting close to him and using your hands dramatically to act out everything, explaining every little detail and connection. He listens to you, occasionally interrupting you with a question or acknowledgement. 

He struggles to keep his composure. Watching your mouth moving and you being so interested and passionate about something. He shamelessly thinks about other things you guys could be passionate about. He can’t help himself growing, trying to hide it from you as you keep talking. Of course, you notice. 

“And then there was- Chris, are you okay?” “Um, yeah, just keep explaining, what else was there?” You give him a sceptical look, biting your lip a little before continuing, speaking slower now than before, half of your attention on his reactions. He can’t help himself, grabbing your sides and placing you on top of him, desperate for some type of friction. That’s when you feel it. 

“Oh, Chris, if you were like this we could just-” “No, no, keep talking” he breathes out, cheeks pink while he moves your hips, making you grind down on him. The friction doesn’t just help him, but you as well. Getting in the mood quicker than before, wetter and hotter as he keeps going. “I said keep it up” he demands, his tone serious and commanding. You try to continue where you left off, but his buckle occasionally moves over your clit harshly, causing loud moans to escape your lips. 

Every time you stop talking, either to take a breath or break, he urges you to continue, wanting to hear it all. Having all of these thoughts, and having to focus on just one part of them while dry humping him and being stimulated makes you feel dizzy and dumb, struggling to keep yourself on theme. 

During this time, he unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants and lets his dick out. Luckily for him, you’re wearing a skirt, so he can easily slip himself inside you, making you ride him while absolutely sex drunk from the previous actions. 

Your hands grasp his shoulders, trying to keep yourself balanced. Body falling on top of him, head in the crook of his neck while he fucks you dumb. “Oh, fuck, keep going, don’t want to lose you now” he teases, while you’re mumbling into his skin, unable to figure out where you left off.

[desire-mona]

siiiigh. todd autism headcanons because im projecting.

(using they/he/she pronouns for todd in this post. will explain but also if u dont agree i dont care, tw for alcoholism. time period is vague but autism hasnt existed as a legitimate medical diagnosis for all that long, so keep it in mind i guess.)

- cannot for the life of him stand welton's blankets. so itchy, just thin enough to not warm you up enough but still make you sweat, not long enough to cover your entire body. yes im making the blanket line in their poem about actual blankets, a boy needs to vent somewhere.

- beyond terrible temperature regulation, ALWAYS just a little too hot which is made worse by her sensory issues when it comes to wet fabric. constant slight agony and it never really goes away. theyre about 5 minutes away from crying about how uncomfortable they are at all times.

- had god awful handwriting until high school, like his teachers could BARELY read his handwriting it was Bad. OOOOOH OH MY GOD THERES A TRAIN GOING BY I CAN HEAR IT HONKING this is a really ironic thing to be pointing out rn but its sooooo worth mentioning. its still honking this is fun. 🚂. anyway. her parents made her spend an entire summer fixing her handwriting bc that was like the One thing her teachers criticised. its Fine now but their motor function simply doesn't deliver in the handwriting department.

- had a VERY INTENSE special interest in aquatic life + marine biology growing up, like read every book about any ocean animal in any library intense. his parents eventually forced him to abandon it because its "not a good career focus" but he still perks up when anyone mentions fish. once talked neils ear off about the biodiversity of coral reefs for roughly 2 hours, neil took her to an aquarium for their first date. rip todd anderson you wouldve loved spongebob squarepants.

- looooves pets, namely cats, but they have Too Sweaty hands all the time so any animal fur sticks onto their hands and just feels. so awful.

- had a brief period in his 20s where he was definitely an alcoholic, started as a social drinker but got too addicted to the feeling of not having to adhere to social conventions quite as hard, especially around other drunk ppl. eventually went sober after they realised they just Cant Stand the feeling of a hangover anymore. autistic ppl r more likely to develop a dependency on alcohol if we do start drinking. just btw.

- gets a Pretty Expansive vocabulary after actually starting to pursue literature. sometimes his family lightly teases him about using big words but it confuses the hell out of him. its just a word she thought would apply best!!

- soooooo obsessed with what other ppls idea of them is, both in an anxious way and out of genuine curiosity. would never ask ppl what they think of her bc she thinks thats 1) very broad 2) seems compliment fish-y and 3) just gonna lead to "i think ur great/ nice/ whatever filler compliment." but the dream is to sit someone (neil) down and just ask him every single question possible about how he perceives him.

- asks a billion clarifying questions about anything someone asks him to do, gets anxious about how many questions he's asking, tries to just figure it out, freaks out about the possibility of getting it wrong, ends up doing the thing perfectly. weekly occurrence.

- never fully grasped the appeal of religion (most definitely grew up catholic or christian or Something) just bc she could NOT let the lack of proof go. ALSO not an atheist bc the vastness of space scares them out of it. religious beliefs r a weird topic for them.

- suppresses a good chunk of his stims in public bc One total time someone looked at him weird while he was chewing on a sweatshirt string and he was like i gotta stop NOW. eventually develops tics and has to mask THOSE in public too. dear god someone let this girl unmask. also i started ticcing while writing that bc my body does this great thing where i only tic when im reminded of the concept of ticcing. its great and totally doesnt make me think im faking them (faking for who? dunno bc it usually happens when im alone)

- DOES in fact stim around neil bc NEIL STIMS TOO!!!!!!!! joyous day when they found THAT out! gets vocal stims of random lines from whatever play neil is practicing for. YEAA ART THOU THEEEEREE was a vocal stim for a solid week and a half which made neil VERY excited (autistic neil. how i love u autistic anderperry)

- velcro is The most evil vile disgusting material to ever grace this mortal realm. he hates it more than anything ever and i mean that fully. the feeling of BOTH sides, the noise, how easily it comes apart, she hates it all.

this is the gender part

never really viewed gender and gender roles as anything to adhere to beyond the fear of punishment if they dont. finds any social convention relating to gender to be Really dumb and meaningless, bc gender isn't (scientifically) real in any capacity, so why treat it like that? for the longest time just shrugged and said "eh, i guess im a boy" bc thats what she was used to being told, and didn't feel particularly drawn to agree OR disagree. eventually realised on a late night that Wait. i dont Actually care what i am. like yeah im a Male i guess but also im just me. my brain doesnt have a gender and i basically am my brain, right? and then never really thought about it again because that's genuinely how little he cares. adhering the most to canon with that mindset, she never really tells anyone (for obvious reasons on top of the overall apathy) and just lets the he/him happen to her but. in my dream world? agender they/he/she todd anderson. and this is MY blog so those are the pronouns im using from now on. i will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl very often view gender differently than allistic ppl, will forever love talking abt how autistic ppl are more likely to be trans. autism!!!

also yes that entire paragraph is just my view of gender, change the pronouns and the todd mentions and its just me. what of it.

[jonahmagnus]

How I think the TOH characters would react to you asking their pronouns:

1) Luz Noceda

Start of season one: "Uh, she/her! I think."

By the end of season one: "She/her! For noww~..." *double pistols and a wink*

Season two: "She/they baby! What about you?"

Season three: "She/they, but I dont really care."

Post show: "Ehhh, call me whatever. Follow your heart! See where the wind takes you. Look into the sunset. Listen to the whistle of the sea breeze. The answer lies within your heart, you just have to listen" *leaves before you can figure out what the fuck that means*

2) Gus Porter

"He/they, thanks for asking!" Hes a gay ally at the start of season one, but only because he learned about how humans are opporessed for "being happy" in their realm and that broke his heart so much he swore to stand by any "gay" human he ever found. So he self-identifies as an ally dispite being literally bisexual. Luz considers explaining what gay means in human modern context, but decides this is funnier, and then forgets about it.

3) Willow Park

Start of season one: "O-oh! She/they, thanks for asking! What about you?" A little unsure of herself gender wise but is coming into it

By season two: "They/She! What about you?" *Winks* By this point shes grown into herself and identifies as nonbinary. However, hes still not ready to peer into the depths of his soul and acknowledge the true hidden truth at the bottom there. No little plant boy dont internalize that!!!!

Post-show: "She/he/they, thanks for asking!" This is still fully a lie but he plays cat and mouse with his own gender for a couple years after the show. Literally refuses to think about it. He has other shit going on (he doesnt).

Finally, post-post-show: "He/him! Yours?" He is a nonbinary butch womanthing. Thank god he finally figured that out. Amity and Gus quietly exchange their bet money. Amity won.

4) Amitt Blight

Season one: "She/her. What do you want." I loved her bitch era it was so fun.

Season two: "She/they! Uh, thanks... for asking? Am I supposed to ask for yours now?" Still figuring out the proper etiquette. God bless her soul.

Season 3: "Oh, she/they. You?" This social script is so ingrained in her autistic speech patterns and mind that she acidentally said it to a cafe worker once and she almost turned herself into goo. Rip autopilot girlie......

Post-show: "She/they! :) What about yours?" She is secure in her answer now 👍 a certified category five nonbinary woman moment.

5) Hunter Noceda

Season one: "My..... whats?" You try to explain what they are to him and he says "My uncle says gender is a sin and I should never fall into it lest my soul be lost. And I dont know what that means but I dont want him to be mad at me so. Bye" and then he would flee the scene at 300mph and have a panic attack about in the closet.

Season two: "Oh... uh.... he... him?? I think??" *remembers youre supposed to ask something back* "Why do you need to know that" he sounds increasingly desperate as he realizes the social script for this conversation is slipping from his grasp, much like his current sanity.

Season 3: "Oh, oh, uhm, he/him, I guess" He sounds VERY unsure about that. You eye the book in his shoulder bag, and he shuffles awkwardly.

Post-show: "They/he!" They say, still a little haltingly. You nod like you believe it.

Post-post-show: "They...he... it? I mean I like they and it the most but Uhm he is still fine its fine like Im still a human. Im still a human... man" okay Hunter, for sure.

Post-post-post-post-show: "she...they?????" Sure Hunter

Post-post-post-post-post-show: "she/IT???" she shoulds desperate. Okay hunter.

Post-post-post-post-post-postshow: "It/its, but she/her is fine as well. Uh, thanks for asking. Uh. You?" There we go. Glad you finally came to this realization. The Murderbot Diaries would have irreversible affects on its gender.

[cirrusea]

Hello Trollhunters fandom, I'm here to tell you why I (an autistic person) headcanon Jim as autistic even tho no one asked <3 I think the Jimhunters episode is the best example so I want to delve into it a little; also this is the first time I've really made an analysis post so bear with me! Under the cut bc it's gonna be long-ish.

First of course we have Jim being uncomfortable with the sudden physical change, eventually running off to think and be alone

Then he tries to regain some sense of normalcy and comfort by cooking (which is possibly one of his special interests)

...until he realizes human food tastes terrible now. He also probably realizes that now he can't partake in this comfort activity anymore, or at least not in the same way, and he starts to spiral

He needs to be alone again and goes to his room (which could also be motivated by embarrassment from his outburst/potential breakdown, in my experience I HATE being emotional in front of others, it makes it even more overwhelming). There he tries to take off the amulet and his armor, and finds out he can't.

And it all boils over into what looks very much like a meltdown; clawing at the armor, hitting things off his desk, throwing himself into the wall.

He runs away again and seeks comfort by going to the school, but only breaks down further as he realizes he can't go to school like a normal human anymore. Another example of a routine that's now suddenly impossible to maintain, which is often very upsetting to autistic people (speaking from experience).

Again, distances himself from his loved ones. I can imagine him thinking that they might not want him around anymore, if they see that he's changed, he's different.

He feels like he's lost his sense of identity (What am I, Blinky?), which can be a hard thing for me and other autistics to grasp. But eventually he accepts his loved ones' support. (and boy does he look exhausted by then, because meltdowns are extremely draining. Bro probably slept twelve hours after this)

And here's the hug, if y'all need cheering up after all that angst :)

Like I said, I bet there are lots more examples I could find combing through the series, but I'm at the photo limit and this is the strongest evidence I think there is. Of course it's just my headcanon, I don't think the writers actually intended for him to be autistic-coded, and I'm definitely not saying everyone has to headcanon this too. I just love Jim as a character so much and wanted to try making a little analysis post for once, cuz I feel a little more represented thinking about characters with traits and arcs like this. I hope it's comprehensible haha