#meltdown tw

[clownrecess]

I've seen a lot of level one autistics say things like "Have an urge to run? Hell yeah! Elope, bitch! Freedom!". This frustrates me, so I want to talk about elopement, and what it actually is and feels like for me.

I am someone who elopes when in severe distress. It isnt that I want freedom, or even that I want to leave. Its that my body takes control of me, and I involuntarily run anywhere I can to get out. I've run out of my house before, I've run into the middle of the street, etc. It isnt fun. It isnt freeing. It's scary, it's dangerous, and it feels like I am being controlled by my own body because I have no say in it. It just happens, and suddenly I am sprinting out my front door.

I've also seen level one autistics be upset with parents for having those "child leashes" on their autistic kids, saying how they "arent dogs". I think more people need to understand that these are SAFETY TOOLS and are often times NECESSARY for people who elope frequently. Stop shaming parents for having these leash backpacks.

[l4ndojpg]

Whumptober 2023, Day 14: (alt prompt) Shaking

fandom: criminal minds | characters: spencer reid, aaron hotchner, jennifer jaraeu, emily prentiss | ship: none | trigger warnings: gunshot, autistic meltdown | content: spencer has a meltdown after a case, autistic spencer, team as a family, hotch & spencer friendship, dad!hotch | word count: 642.

When the gunshot sounds, it’s Spencer’s last straw. He practically collapses on the ground, back pressed against the SUV and biting down on his hand, trying not to scream. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries his best to focus on nothing but biting down, biting down, biting down, but the air is hot and sticky and his vest his tight against his chest, the image of the unsub he identified with being shot down is replaying over and over and God, oh God, he feels like he can’t breathe- 

“-pencer. Spence. It’s alright, you’re alright. Can you breathe with me?” JJ’s voice is soft and usually comforting, but Spencer can’t bring himself to open his eyes, to respond. He continues to bite down on his hand, eyes squeezed shut, rocking back and forth. He should respond, right? He should say something, let her know he’s still in here somewhere, despite the fact that he feels so removed from his body. He whimpers. That’s as far as he thinks he can get. 

“What’s wrong with-,” 

“Move-,” 

“Is he-,” 

“You need to give him space, man-,” 

“What’s his deal-,” 

His team’s voices telling the officers on the scene to go away drill into his skull. He’s screwing everything up, he’s sure of it. He whimpers again. After a moment, the voices move away, but they’re still nearby, grating up against his skull, mixing in with the sirens and other noises of the scene. 

“Reid, hey,” Emily’s speaking now, and he nods so that she can see he hears her, and starts to get lost in the motion. It feels good. He nods and he rocks and he listens to Emily as she speaks. 

“How about we go and get into the car? It’ll be a lot quieter there.” 

The car sounds nice. Good, even. 

He lets out a shaky exhale and opens his eyes. It’s so fucking bright. He makes a sound from the back of his throat, something noncommittal, but pushes himself up off of the ground and stands up shakily anyway. Emily opens the door for him, and he slides into the passenger seat, thankful for the tinted windows. She shuts the door quietly and makes her way around the other side. There’s murmuring outside the door, but he doesn’t focus on it. He pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, and he just tries to breathe. In, out, in, out, in, out, in-

“Reid?” Hotch opens the door and says his name softly. Spencer grimaces away from the busy sounds outside, and Hotch slides into the driver's seat quickly, shutting the door gently behind him. Spencer continues to rock in his seat, knees drawn up to his chest and hands squeezed tightly into fists to stop from shaking. “What do you need Spencer? How can I help?” 

Spencer shakes his head, looking down. I don’t know. His cheeks are flushed with shame. 

“That’s okay, you don’t need to know,” Hotch says, his voice quiet and gentle in the way it only ever goes in situations like these. “You take as long as you need. Do you want me to stay with you?” 

Spencer hesitates, then after a moment, nods. He flexes his fingers out in front of him and hums quietly. His hands are still shaking. He shakes his head at himself. Pathetic. 

“That’s just the adrenaline,” Hotch reminds him, and Spencer nods again. “You’ll stop soon.”

They’re quiet for a moment, then Hotch says hesitantly, “I know this case hasn’t been easy on you. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? Being overwhelmed is a universal feeling. We all just deal with it differently.” 

Spencer looks up at his boss, who’s watching his carefully, eyebrows creased in concern. 

“Thanks,” he whispers after a moment, and Hotch gives him a rare smile. 

“Of course.” 

[gillipopmoji-archived]

[gildead]

@spootheads asked:

Ah... don't think you slipped away completely unnoticed, Gold. Being... more or less the "VIP" of this gathering in a way, a negative disguised as something positive... there was little doubt in either beavers' minds that the poor kid was in agony. Whether he happened to show it... or not. Daggett was the first one to notice the very beginning of the child's somber departure, and, with a quick elbow to Norb's side and a wordless, downlow gesture, both of them would watch as Gold disappeared into their downstairs bathroom. Soup did not matter anymore, not in this moment... and, once Norbert had placed his bowl down onto the table for now, both beavers would mosey their way over towards the bathroom. "Um... hey, Gold? Are you alright?" Norbert's voice would arise, the eldest leaning slightly to better hear the response... if there would be one. Privacy may have been craved in this time. That did pass their minds... but who could ignore this completely? Who had the heart to simply leave it be? If he wanted privacy, gosh darn it, they wanted to hear it for themselves. They hadn't entered just yet, of course, but Dag's little sniffs and snuffs could also be heard as he'd also leaned in, a bit further than Norb had. What else could be heard? Tiny cries. Concerned glances exchanged, the door would be gently pressed open all the way. "G-Gold? Oo, wh-wh-what's the matter?" Daggett gripped at his maw in worry as he spoke, as Norb slowly closed the door behind them. Once it was... he would once again join his younger brother's side."Yeah, c'mon, you can tell us anything. What's on your mind, kiddo, hmm?"

They found him.

Of course they found him. Why wouldn't they find him? Even if he tried to be discreet in his slipping away, somebody was bound to notice. It just happened to be his hosts this time.

By the time the beavers allowed themselves in, Gold's managed to peel himself away from the sink. He sits on the ground in front of it, his sleeves wrapped around himself as he rocks back and forth in a vain attempt to self-soothe. He lifts his head up to stare at Norbert and Daggett with dark, hollow sockets, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to speak.

"I..." How does he even open? The beaver brothers weren't at the facility. They might've had an idea of how bad things were, but not the full scope. "I don't like scaring people."

He pauses to swallow. It hurts to even speak, but he doesn't know how else he's going to explain what's happening. "I know I look terrifying. I know how badly I upset people when they see me." He wipes at his sockets with his sleeve, but it only manages to smear the black, tar-like tears onto his hoodie. "I try so, so, so hard to look approachable. I can't--"

He starts sobbing again and rocks even harder. Sorry, guys, he's really trying to hold it together. It's just that when somebody ties you down, harvests your parts from you, and regards you as little more than a piece of meat to carve up, you start to feel like a piece of meat to carve up. He can't even fully enjoy his freedom; the constant horrified looks from everyone else only serve as a reminder of how Wesker violated his basic humanity. No matter how reassuring people could be, Gold still didn't feel safe.

"I can't even do that anymore! I look like a freak! I feel like a freak!" His sleeves fly to his head as they try to grasp for hair that doesn't exist anymore. He shudders and immediately grabs for his hood, pulling it over his head to hide it. The gesture seems to calm him down for the time being as he returns to address the beavers.

"I-I'm sorry, guys," he said, trying to calm down, "I... I don't mean to throw all this at you--"

[randomwriteronline]

"Where are we going, brother?"

Pohatu doesn't answer. He keeps walking with his hand on the wall, quicker than all of them; every now and then he knocks gently on it.

There are no Rahkshi down here, no Exo-Toa or Rahi or anything. It's a tunnel that from the colosseum leads into some kind of pipe system different from the sprawling Archives, but equally as labyrinthine. Pohatu walks through it easily, knowing the general direction towards which they're going - that being, towards the Turaga, whom he sent on their own way to safety when Teridax's universe-wide attack unfolded before their powerless eyes. They'll take longer to show up where the Toa will meet them, but he knows they're a crafty lot: they'll have no trouble evading whatever might try to get them.

When asked how he's so familiar with this hidden piece of Metru Nui, he shrugged. He went for a long run all over the city on his first visit, he answered truthfully, and even when he did not add anything after the others were perfectly satisfied and did not insist with questions, because it's only natural for him to want to explore every nook and cranny of a place at maximum speed.

And because he is still on edge.

He hasn't blown up at them since they tried to ask him where he has been for one hundred thousand years, but he still flinches harshly to get their hands off of himself when they try to touch him, and he still looks at them angrily, and sometimes he still growls.

Takanuva hits his head on the ceiling and groans. His mask's silvery light stutters.

"Careful, little brother," Pohatu tells him with his normal, playful, gentle voice that lately he uses only for him, their younger siblings, and the Matoran: "That's the fifth time you try to break a hole through the tunnel."

"It's not like I'm trying," Takanuva mutters back.

"Maybe you should start shortening again?" the Toa of Stone jokes like he refuses to do with his siblings since meeting them at the Codrex. "Can't be too hard - try pulling your limbs real tight to your chest, for a start."

"And how would you suppose I'd walk, then?"

"You'll roll!"

The Av-Toa laughs a little.

He stops when the others don't join in, and his eyes ask them what makes them so uncomfortable. Gali shifts her shoulders.

Silence sits upon them like a vulture.

The color of the viaduct changes at last. Pohatu quickens his steps to build some distance between him and his siblings, awfully focused. He knocks once, then again: a high pitched hum leaves him as he stops dead in his tracks and faces the wall - his tone is indiscernible, incomprehensible, either flat or interested or something else entirely.

"What did you find, Pohatu?" Tahu asks loudly as the rest of them hurry closer.

His brother turns to him with an empty gaze and no answer.

The back of his head hurts.

And his spine, and his arms, and his legs, and his chest, and his hips, and every single minuscule atom of his entire body as it crashes against its brethren until he can barely breathe or think while the anguish lights his nerves like a wild fire raging through the forest on an impossibly dry day with a cruel hot wind that howls too strong.

The sound comes to his audio receptors later - a terrifying impact, as loud as an explosion. He turns his head, what was that? An ambush? Where did it come from? Where are his siblings?

He counts their masks in a dim light, blotches of color in his muddled vision: black, white, blue, green, red with him. He reaches for his Hau and finds his hand unable to move - is it broken? When he tries to look down his chin encounters resistance and he fails to recognize anything. Five out of seven. Five out of seven... His body hurts. Why does it hurt? Five out of seven...

A strangled grunt catches his attention.

Pohatu struggles hoisting Takanuva, who does not move, in his arms while also holding a small lightstone to see anything in this dark.

Frustrated, he lets the stone fall to the ground: "I've got you, little brother," he reassures his unconscious sibling as he plucks the Mask of Light from his face (why does he take the Mask of Light from his face?) and slips his arms around his torso, trying to lift him. "Oof - damn it all, you're so heavy now - see, that's another reason you shouldn't have been allowed to pick that cursed mask up, if you were still a Matoran this whole thing would be much easier..."

"Pohatu!" Lewa cries, panicked. "Pohatu! Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," their brother replies.

"We're trapped! Stuck!"

"I can see that."

Are they trapped? Are they -

His arms groan from the strain of being squeezed too tight and pain shoots into his eyes, burning his field of vision into scalding white. It relents slowly, leaving him winded, and as he collects himself he realizes: the opposite wall, the one Pohatu was inspecting, has lunged towards them and trapped them against its twin.

Ambush. An ambush. His body hurts. It was an ambush. His body hurts. It hurts so much he can't concentrate.

Onua chokes on what would be a shout for a few horrible seconds before heaving hard when the pressure finally eases up on him and spares him from being crushed.

What is doing this? A Rahkshi? Must be a Rahkshi. It must be.

His body hurts so much.

"Stone," he hears Kopaka breathe, "It's stone."

Stone. It's stone... So? A renegade Toa? A mutated kraata? Tahu strains to listen. No, there is no sound here: only his siblings hissing in pain as their frames are pressed and Pohatu grunting as he finally manages to secure at least the upper half of Takanuva on himself and off the ground.

Oh. Oh - oh, it's stone. It's stone! Oh, thank Mata Nui, it's stone.

Destiny decided they can be lucky for once.

"Pohatu!" he cries through gritted teeth while his chest is constricted tightly, "Pohatu - the walls, they're, it's stone - hurry, please, get it off of us!"

The answer he gets is flat, deadpan: "That'd be counterproductive."

"What?" Gali responds immediately, panic stirring around her heartlight like a whirpool - this feels too much like their confrontation, that strange feeling of wrong overwhelming in his neutral tone: "What do you mean? Pohatu-!"

Her voice cuts off with a painful whine as the rock clenches around her tight enough to make her armor creak around her limbs.

Pohatu ignores her.

They call for him multiple times. Over and over. As best as they can through the strain put on their bodies that almost drives them mad with anguish.

In the dim light their brother takes his time.

They watch him will a seat out of a portion of the wall, placing Takanuva down upon it; his masked forehead laid on his little brother's, the Avokhii in his hand (why is the Avokhii in his hand?) disappearing from sight as it is slipped away on his person, he murmurs something to the Toa of Light with a gentle tone, a comforting tone, while he holds his limp hand. His eyes extend none of that gentleness to his siblings when he turns to them.

"So!"

The wall presses hard against their bodies for a single second: pain lances through them like a downpour of spears and rips the voices out of the five of them in a swift cruel move.

Pohatu gingerly walks to stand upon their prison, twisting the lightstone in his hand, casting terrible almost tangible shadows all across the claustrophobic space as the light struggles to escape through the gaps in his fingers.

"If all goes well you'll be rotting here for, oh, roughly the rest of eternity, and I'll never have to see any of you again," he tells them almost casually as he towers over them, though there is a deep poison drooling out of his mouth. His blue visor gleams terribly, his eyes looking just as blue and cold and hard behind it: "So I guess it's as good a time as any for a little story."

He bends to look at them closer, just for a moment. In the dark, it's hard to tell his expression.

He rises again to stretch with a groan: the stone moves as malleable as fabric to meet him when he leans back, sitting himself down comfortably upon it, and he slumps forward to prop his chin in his palms as though he was looking at something so very curious.

The arrows of light from his hand carve deep lines into his mask.

"In the time before time Artakha made six Toa to protect the Great Spirit and the Av-Matoran, but that's the part that you know already," he continues as they can only stare at him, too stunned, too in pain: "You know it all up to the point where the five brave Toa go into their safe ball at the bottom of the swamp and take a nice long nap while everything around them gets destroyed. So the question is, whatever happened to the dirt one?"

His head shifts suddenly.

Tahu feels his eyes slowly digging holes into his own.

"By the way, I'm almost touched you remembered my element this time," Pohatu tells him. His voice is quiet, between a stage whisper and a real one. "Only took four to five near death experiences."

He wants to snap at him.

He wants to thrash and snarl and demand what is wrong with him.

He wants to open his mouth and speak to him.

He wants to ask him what is going on.

He wants to reach out and grab him and hold him still, and beg him to explain, and speak in a calm voice to him until everything is fixed.

He barely manages to breathe.

Pohatu holds his gaze a little longer. He blinks, and cranes his neck away from him with a sighed hum - it's so dark his expression can't be seen but the movement seems almost bored - and taps on the side of his mask with his fingers: the lightstone peeks from between them at strangled intervals.

He observes them struggle to adjust to the changes in lighting uselessly, as they are first offered bursts of brightness and then plunged back into darkness after mere seconds.

He is toying with them.

This is not Pohatu.

This cannot be Pohatu.

"I stayed in Karda Nui. I tried to evacuate the last Matoran before the energy storm swallowed them. I managed a few. I failed most of them. It was a job for six Toa, but I couldn't really hope five of them would materialize out of thin air just because they were needed."

He breaks into a short chuckle. It's a softer version of his usual booming laughter. It sputters poison all over them.

"And it's not like you would have made any difference if you'd stayed - you're barely even Toa to begin with."

This cannot be Pohatu.

This is not Pohatu.

This is a fake.

This has to be a fake.

When did they lose him? When could he have been replaced? They never lost sight of him in these tunnels, it must have been earlier. In the Colosseum? As they were returning to Metru Nui? Before escaping Karda Nui? Before he met them at the Codrex? He had mentioned it briefly, had said he had met a big bugger - a Makuta? A kraata? A shadow leech? Something else? Where is he now? Where is their brother? Where are they keeping him? Is he alive? Is he... He can't be, he can't! They can't have killed him! Unless they trapped him in Karda Nui... With the Makuta... And the storm... No, no, no, Pohatu is smart, Pohatu is quick, he can't have died there, he must have escaped. He must have escaped, and he must have made his way to Metru Nui, or maybe somewhere else safe, and he's looking for them, or planning a way to blow up Teridax while keeping the universe unharmed, or maybe he's been captured again and he's being hurt or tortured or killed and he's worried for them, maybe, maybe, maybe...

"And you'd planned to leave me to die anyways," he shrugs.

"No!" Lewa chokes out. He recoils, he shifts, he tries to twist in his prison, to break out, and treespeak spills out of him faster than he can give any of it sense.

Not like he is given much time to try to.

Halfway along his attempt at something (an appeal? An explanation? A curse? An apology?) a wail cuts him off together with a searing pain. What little light washes over him is enough to see how the rock ensnaring him wraps around his head to shut his mouth in a tight, tight, tight grip, his mask almost crushed within: the rest of his body, likely, is suffering something similar.

Pohatu waits patiently until his whimpering dies down - until he himself decides to relent the pressure a little.

"I thought you were interested in this story," he says as he tilts his head. His brother struggles to breathe through the stone binding his mouth as he gives him a desperate look: the Toa of Stone remains unbothered. "You even made me heartpromise to tell you," and his tone is sneering when he mentions the word, "So why are you interrupting me now? Am I boring you? Are you bored? Should I stop? I can stop. I have other things to do."

Lewa's inarticulate whines sound like sobs, but can't answer.

Pohatu stretches his legs: "Alright then! Saves me time."

"Wait," Onua rasps. He struggles to speak while his lungs are compressed, limiting how much air he's allowed to inhale. "Wait. Please. Where... How... How... The storm... You... Survived..."

"Evidently I did, if I'm here," his brother replies. "Even if you think it's a real shame I didn't get vaporized."

"Don't... We don'... Don'... Please... Please... Breathe... Can't... Please..."

No answer.

Breathing gets harder.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He can't see.

He's going to faint.

He's going to faint.

He's going to...

Going to...

Going...

To...

Finally the pressure leaves.

He gasps noisily, greedily, exhausted.

Pohatu watches him like he's a disgusting squirming krana, struggling to writhe to safety as it lays on marshy ground.

"But yes," he continues softly. "I am here because I did escape. When I couldn't hope to bring any more little siblings to safety, and I couldn't hear their screams over the crackling of the storm, I followed your example and ran away. Then the Makuta found me, and took pity on me - isn't that funny? The Makuta, taking pity on something? Something as weak and useless as me? - and they kept me in their brotherhood. And the were all so very nice to me, like you've been ever since you couldn't remember how you used to think of me, for a few hundred years or so, before they got bored of such a sad sack of gravel and left me to rot outside of their laboratories."

There are so many things wrong in what he says.

So many, all at once.

The faint light illuminates a smile beneath his mask - a small, honest, deeply fond smile: "Except Teridax, of course."

Fire rises beneath Tahu's armor.

"What did he do to you?"

Pohatu looks at him almost surprised.

"What did he do to you?" the Toa of Fire repeats, louder, more insistent. It's so clear now. The deception, the bitterness, the harshness, all of this - if this is truly their brother, who else but Makuta Teridax could turn him against them in such a cruel way, so thoroughly convince him they hate him?

He can't see her, so much does rage narrow his vision, but he hears Gali's voice: "Pohatu," and it shakes a little with his same anger, even if the only thing she can say is their brother's name, unable even to demand of his what she wants to know, because what else is there for a sister to say when her loved one has been molded into a bitter misshapen shade of himself by as dreadful a thing as her old enemy? "Pohatu - Pohatu--"

In the dim light, a stunned expression widens into a grin.

The Toa of Stone leans forward: "Do you want to know?" he whispers, conspiratorial, "Do you want to know what he did to me? The ghastly, horrible, torturous thing he's subjected me to?"

They must say something in their fury, some kind of affirmation: they need to know, of course they do! To better make him regret it!

Carefully, slowly, Pohatu places the lightstone down before himself.

Its faint light illuminates him better, more clearly, so that they can observe him much better: his armor is completely unmmarred from the rotting color given by a kraata's corruption, its shape is unchanged, his eyes are the same. He lets them watch closely as nothing in his appearence changes or shifts - as every single part of him remains perfectly still, the same as they've always known.

He watches them back; he smiles as he does, looking at them wait for something, anything.

He grins wider, perfectly identical to himself.

"He cared about me."

The look on their faces is just... Comical.

Pohatu laughs.

"Isn't that insane?" he taunts them. "Just absolutely demented? Who would ever think of that, to care for me? About me? To think I'm good, and useful? To find some sort of worth in me? He's always been drawn to revolutionary concepts, but this one might just be too far!"

He laughs.

He laughs so hard.

It's an almost hysterical sound that rattles the tunnel in its entirety and echoes through it, loud, erratic, horrible, stuck somewhere between genuine and mocking, amused and furious. It's so strong that he holds his face in his hand and folds in on himself, and the way his shoulders jump with every wailing chuckle almost makes him look like he is crying his heart out.

"What a stupid idea!" he struggles to shriek out as he laughs, "Devoting time to me! Reassuring me! Praising me! Me!"

He coughs.

Twice, thrice, a few more times.

He knocks on his chest to get all of it out of him until he finally stops, utterly winded, groaning as he tries to catch his breath. A giggle or two still falls from his mouth from time to time. It's getting harder to tell if they are not sobs.

A deep inhale - and his hands are back under his chin, an amused grin is back on his face, a sudden incoherent calm is back over him.

"So to answer the original question, the dirt one spent a hundred thousand years awake helping the only being who ever gave a widget about him with his plan while his brave siblings slept nice and tight in their canisters," he continues, right where he left off, as though he hadn't been caught in a rapturous maddened amusement just seconds earlier. "And he watched everything, from the Barraki's imprisonment to the Metru Nui civil war, to the Dark Hunters setting their sights on the heads of the Brotherhood, to the Toa Metru foiling a perfectly fine plan when they shouldn't have endangering hundreds of Matoran in the process, until a litte Rama told him that the other five had decided to get up for once. And then the rest you should know, if you haven't forgotten it already."

Silence.

Comical.

Absolutely comical.

Look at them stare, struggling to breathe.

Look at the disbelief dripping from their masks as though they just emerged from a pool of it.

Pohatu looks at them, nice and long, and everything in his body aches so terribly that he thinks what he feels might finally be release.

He's finally done it. Finally, finally, now that he has them here at his mercy, accused and tried for their failings, punished but not killed, he's purged every single drop of vitriol boiling within himself upon them and he's free. His guilt and hatred and phantom pains of limbs he never had is theirs now; he is allowed to live unburdened by the person their disgust of him angrily shaped him into.

"You lied to us," Gali speaks softly.

He tilts his head at her: "Hm."

"From the beginning."

"Put a date to this beginning. Mine is waking up with you five to Artakha's voice in that blasted chamber."

"You... You can't be him." her voice is unsteady. "You can't be him."

"Who?"

"Pohatu. My brother. You can't be him. Pohatu is-"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he interrupts her. "You'd love for me to be dead."

"Pohatu isn't like this!" she almost roars. He can feel her - how she trembles furiously within the stone, desperate to break through it. "Pohatu isn't a liar! He isn't a being this overwhelmed by hatred!"

"You would know," the other croons, but his eyes sour. "The most trustworthy source is the one that wasn't there, isn't it."

"I know my brother!" Gali shakes; the binds around her creak like a poorly constructed dam against the rush of a raging river. "I've fought with him, joked with him, confided in him! I could recognize him anywhere! I know who he is! I love him!"

"YOU LEFT ME!"

The wall groans horribly with them as it crushes them within itself.

Takanuva, unseen, twitches barely as he remains trapped in a shapeless bad dream.

The being standing before them has his hands balled so tight into his own fists that they can hear the adaptive armor shriek as it dents and scratches itself. He heaves long deep breaths with difficulty, as though the air in the tunnel wasn't enough.

The lightstone is half buried within the rock, almost cracked: lances of its glow make him seem larger than he already is, and his eyes behind the visor burn.

"You LEFT me," he repeats. His breathless voice is a faraway avalanche coming ever closer, dragging the world down upon them with it. "You left us to die. You knew what would happen, and you did not tell me. You did not tell anybody - it was your secret safety exit, not mine, not the Matoran's, just yours. All yours. Just for the five of you. The Order of Mata Nui made it just for you," and here it turns into a whine, a whimper, a plead for help that mauls the fingers reaching out to lend their earnest aid, "Just for you five, nobody else, nobody else - there were only five canisters, weren't there? Weren't there? Not six, only five, because you all planned it together, behind my back, behind our little siblings' backs, because there was never any need for me or them, was there? No need at all, and no need to tell us, no need at all. Nobody wants to know they'll die, nobody does, nobody deserves to know they will die even when death can't be avoided so they can at least make peace with it or fight back against it, and that's why our little brothers and sister aren't little anymore, isn't it? Ah-"

His hands open, the stone clenches; his hands close, the stone clenches. He folds and unfolds his fists maniacally, histerically, as he struggles to breathe, mouth agape beneath his mask, eyes trained onto the agonizing Toa and barely seeing them.

"Ah, you are just like those pests," the words drool out of him like foamy spit, and by how hard he shakes he really does seem to be convulsing, "Those damned rats - ah, ah, Mata Nui truly has a fondness for liars and cowards, doesn't he? Must see himself in them, if he keeps choosing them as his guard - if he keeps favoring them, giving them power, trying to save them - ah, ah..."

"Pohatu," is all that Kopaka manages to choke out.

The being heaving and trembling turns to him with a slow, stunted motion and the empty eyes of a mad Rahi. His mind seems to be elsewhere, but he holds his gaze and waits.

Despite the pain and struggle to inhale, Kopaka's quiet voice fills the silence: "They did not know."

No answer meets him.

The wall softens against them. Their limbs ache so much that focusing on anything else is impossible, but at least breathing comes less hard.

The Toa of Ice hisses as to not crumble.

He needs to speak.

If he speaks, the other will calm.

If he calms, he will be more likely to listen.

If he listens, everything can be cleared, and this will stop.

He needs to speak.

Great Spirit damn him and his abysmal storytelling.

"The storm, and the Codrex," he struggles through the words as he tries to carefully construct his sentence. "I knew. I did not tell you. And I did not plan to. That is true. It seemed like a sound plan. As you said - nobody wants to know... Nobody wants to know they could die. It seemed like a good idea. It was not. It was not. I was... The only one who knew. And I did not tell anybody. When you... Cornered me - you can read me so easily. You always could. When you cornered me - I told you. And I - the way I worded myself, was wrong. I never... Meant... That anybody else knew. I was... It was... My plan."

"Kopaka-"

"My plan," he insists over Tahu's interruption. He knows what he wants to do, but he can take the blame. He wants to. It's his fault this is happening. "Only mine. You... I would have. All of you - I would have kept quiet. And we all would have gone in. You included. That was the plan. It was always the plan. All six of us. Your canister - it was there. For you. But I was the only one, who knew. I was-"

He hushes suddenly. His head cranes, his eyes shut. The sound of the stone that slams a dent into his temple comes with a delay due to how quickly it happens.

Lewa's cry out to him is muffled by the rock muzzling him.

His brother can't respond anyways.

"That's a lie," Pohatu only says hoarsely.

The wall hardens around their bodies again (Kopaka's doesn't even lament his pain at all, completely limp) and Onua lurches forward despite the ache ricocheting through his entire being, Pakari glowing faintly to lend him enough strength to fight back: "No!" he growls, "He's telling the truth! We didn't know! We didn't know! We were just as angry as you - if we'd-!"

His mask dims as his head falls back. Another ghastly bang marks, a bit late, the appearance of the dent that knocks him out.

"That's another lie," Pohatu repeats.

He sounds tired.

His eyes wander over his last three conscious siblings, frozen in a horrified terror: "Who's next," he asks, though there is no questioning inflection to his words - only a horrifying exhausted wrath that gnaws at his tendons even when there is barely anything left for it to eat. "Who else wants to lie to me. Don't be shy. Don't be shy, do it, you've done it a hundred times before. Don't be shy."

Lewa sobs. He wails within the cage that constricts his mask, looks at him with eyes wider than a moon, howls without words.

The muzzle tightens and chokes his scream inside it.

"They're not dead," Pohatu spits. "I am a Toa. I don't kill."

He knows it doesn't make them feel any safer, because he knows they can hear his entire body straining to scream no matter how much I might want to, no matter how much you would deserve it through his mouth.

He knows he doesn't want to. He knows he never wanted. He knows it has to be them - provoking him, poking at him like one does at a dying ember to make it spark some more. They want to break him completely and tear away from him the only thing they can't have: the knowledge that he's in the right. The knowledge that he's the only one out of them who was ever deserving of being called a Toa.

It must be them. It must be them. Because they hate him.

They hate him, and so he hates them.

So it must be them.

At least, his inaction makes them squirm.

Tahu calls out to him. He turns to him, so tired, so heavy.

"Those thousands of years ago," he speaks in a calculated manner, careful, because even though he wants to make him break the code he is still afraid of death (not because he is still trying to reach out to the Pohatu he knows, the brother he loves, that can't be it, because they hate him) "What did Kopaka tell you?"

"The truth," the Toa of Stone replies quietly. "And I know it was the truth, because it would have been easier to rip the words from inside his throat than wait for him to tell me."

"And what was the truth?"

"Your plan. He told me you and him were told what what to do. He told me the five of you would have gone in before the storm would have hit. He told me you would have been safe while it descended on Karda Nui the Matoran. He told me you would have gone into the canisters and waited until duty called you to action again."

"We didn't know," Gali whispers before her brother can stop her. "Lewa, Onua and I, we didn't know."

Her arms creak as they are almost flattened.

She bites back a scream.

"Of course you knew," Pohatu shuts her down with a bitter glance. "You must have known. Nobody else asked Kopaka any questions. Nobody else needed to be told. He said, we'll get to safety. We'll enter the Codrex. The five of you. Not me. Not the Matoran."

"That 'we' always included you, too," Tahu says. He sounds like he's begging him for something. "You're our brother."

His brother's fist tightens: "Then why didn't you come for me," he asks in that flat tone. "Why didn't you track me down. Why didn't you bother to chase after me to explain yourselves. Why didn't you force me into that blasted thing. Why didn't you drag me with you, kicking and screaming as I might have been."

In the dim light, the Toa of Fire falters; he gasps for air for a moment, searching for excuses, before he lowers his eyes and admits, ashamed: "I thought we wouldn't have time."

"You left me." Pohatu translates.

Tahu shakes his head.

"You left me," Pohatu repeats, harsher, voice cracking softly: "I was your brother and you left me to die."

Before any of them can argue otherwise, the wall closes around their bodies to crush them once more with an agonizing tardiness, piercing white hot pain through their brains like a drill; it wanes just as slowly to give them a moment of respite in which they struggle to recognize the echoes of their own groans and wails still traveling through the tunnels.

Pohatu's body obstructs what little light the cracked stone still shines as he collects Takanuva in his arms ever more easily than the first time he tried to do so. He moves his little brother's head to lean on his shoulder, so that he can be at least a bit more comfortable; he nuzzles it gently, comfortingly.

Poor Takua.

He didn't deserve this.

His last look at his siblings still sizzles with poison.

"Scream as loud as you want," is all he tells them, venom dripping from every syllable: "You have all the time in the world, and nobody to hear you."

Then his mask gleams; in the blink of an eye everything goes dark, and the wall clenches its grip around them again.

[onmitsu-taicho]

@noblereason continued from here

Fists balled and teeth grit, Sui-Feng looked away from Yoruichi, body minutely trembling as they fought back their reaction to everything that had happened. (They had already cried and had a meltdown in front of him once, no need to do it again.) "It is not — that," they managed, sounding even more brittle and stilted than usual.

"I — You know I — You are aware of my... difficulties," what a way to say neurodivergence, though it was better than broken, as Captain Unohan had often said, "in... interacting with people." A longer pause, before they finally found the words to continue. "I do not understand what you are thinking and feeling, and it — it makes me feel — "

A shuddering breath.

"...It makes me feel even more lost, than when you left."

[nonbinaryezri]

any recommendations for stim toys that'll help me stop pulling at my hair and clothes so much when i'm overstimulated?? my meltdowns usually consist of me unintentionally yanking my own hair, pulling at my skin and clothes, and shit like that. my main stim toy rn is a stretchy caterpillar, but i'm scared i'll rip him if i handle him during a meltdown 😭 any recommendations are appreciated !!

[namjuwun]

Staying. Trying.

crossposted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49513432

ZB1, no ship, jiwoong-centric, autism, overstimulation, minor meltdown, stress stimming, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, crying

-

The lights were too loud, well technically everything was, but that’s beside the point. The lights in particular were the loudest.

aka

I write Jiwoong as autistic bc i relate to him a lot and bc writing technically counts as therapy. tw for overstimulation, descriptions of a minor meltdown, being misunderstood, and yelling

-

hey! i'm not writing this to say 'ooh jiwoong has autism i have diagnosed him' im literally just writing this as a completely self indulgent thing. autism (like everything) isn't a monolith and the traits i've written here are mostly my own and are in no way supposed to be representative of all autistic people :) anyway sorry for the pain

also! i couldn't find what the dorm sitch is rn so i made it up

The lights were too loud, well technically everything was, but that’s beside the point. The lights in particular were the loudest. They beamed up at Jiwoong from the front of the stage, taunting him in their directness. His ears felt like they could start ringing at any second. One minute he was excitedly waving at zeroses and answering questions, and the next everything hit him at once like a semi truck. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, grabbing at the cuffs and fiddling with the buttons. ‘Only five more minutes, Jiwoong. You can make it.’ he cheered himself on in his head, blinking slowly and deliberately. 

The seconds ticked by slowly, but they did tick by. Jiwoong was second off the stage. He smiled wide and waved goodbye, he’d done this routine enough to be convincingly ‘normal’ looking. He tried to not rush Hanbin as he grabbed the hands of the zeroses who waited so patiently to say hi face to face. Jiwoong did his best to do the same. Smile and touch and interact. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his fans, not at all. He just felt this crushing weight on his chest after the whole day, like his battery died hours ago and he was still trying to ring out the last drops of juice. 

They finally made it to their van, and after one final wave goodbye as they pulled away, Jiwoong put in his headphones. He slowly let his face drop, he’d learnt way too many times that changing expressions too quickly freaks people out. He shut his eyes and waited. All he had to do was wait, and then he could lock himself in the bathroom for at least ten minutes before anyone came knocking. Unfortunately, God hated him. With a tap to his shoulder, Jiwoong felt his stomach churn in frustration.

“Jiwoon-hyung!” Matthew poked at him cheerfully. “I know you’re not sleeping.” Jiwoong opened one of his eyes to look down at his seatmate. He was smiling bright as ever. Lucky.

Jiwoong hummed a noise of acknowledgment, too tired to make his mouth say words.

“What do you want for dinner, Hyung? Ricky wants chicken, but Hao-hyung and Hanbin-hyung are voting for Chinese. But, Gunwook, Taerae and Yujin want beef, like at a restaurant.” Matthew rattled the options off, counting on his fingers. “Which one do you think is best?” He looked up earnestly.

Honestly, the thought of putting food in his mouth at the moment made Jiwoong feel queasy. “Chinese.”

Matthew paused. Something flitted across his face, but Jiwoong couldn’t pick up exactly what. “You sure? We can get something else if you want! We could all get different stuff delivered!” Matthew placed a hand on Jiwoong’s arm, making him flinch slightly. He really hoped Matthew didn’t notice.

“Sure.” He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath. “Do whatever you want.”

The hand slowly dragged away. Jiwoong was thankful for the silence and the lack of stimulation. He took another breath, clearing his chest. Finally, plans were made and he could coast for the rest of the night. Minimal crying hopefully included. The rest of the drive was more peaceful than normal, the only real noise was Hanbin talking to their manager in the front row and Gyuvin playing a game on his phone. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to lock himself in the bathroom today. 

They pulled up next to the Dorm, and everyone stretched and grabbed their stuff. Jiwoong held the door as Matthew and Yujin got out. Weird, neither of them looked up at him like normal. Something was off. Jiwoong tried to reason with himself, saying that they were probably also just tired from their long day, but it ate at him a bit. He grabbed his bag and went to shut the door but it slipped from his hand. His efforts to grab it again just ended up catapulting it even harder into the latch. It closed with a loud thud, causing everyone to jump. Jiwoong sighed deeply. “Sorry.” He slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried inside. He paused to shake out his hands in the lobby. 

By the time he got there, the members were all crowding around the elevator. Jiwoong shuffled up next to Zhang Hao, nodding his head towards the light above the doors. “Ah- There’s a delivery man going up right now with a trolley. It’s gonna be a second.” His eyes wandered around the room as he explained.

“Hmm.” Jiwoong grunted. “I’m taking the stairs.” He didn’t want to deal with all nine of them squishing into an elevator right now, especially with the variable of a potential delivery man visitor. 

Jiwoong was first to the dorm, first in and out of the shower, and first changed into comfortable clothes. The dorm was oddly quiet. They ordered food by passing Hanbin’s phone around, they all waited in their rooms or showered while it was getting delivered, and even eating was a strangely silent affair. It all felt much too familiar for Jiwoong’s liking. He didn’t know when, or how, or why, but he knew that he must’ve done something wrong. Did he do something at the fansign? Was he rude to zerose? Or was this something farther back that he just started noticing. Jesus, this feeling sucked, and it sucked even worse to sit in. He finished his bowl of soup and threw out the container in the kitchen. If he could manage the courage, he could ask right now, while everyone was here. Get it over with.

‘Oh, you didn’t notice? None of us liked you, we were being nice.’

‘I can’t believe you didn’t realize! Jesus, you really are dense.’

‘Wow, way to care about your so-called friends.’

He shook out his head. He knew those thoughts weren’t productive, they just made him feel like shit. It didn’t stop them from happening, but at least he knew, right? He flapped his hands, and groaned, hopping a little in place. Gathering all his strength he walked back out to the living room and stood in front of everyone. They all looked up in awkward silence.

“…Jiwoong-hyung?” Taerae said cautiously.

“I’m going to bed now.” Jiwoong blurted and turned on his heel. Stupid. He hurried into his and Ricky’s room. He flopped on his bed. “Stupid, stupid. That’s not gonna fix anything.” Anything he ever tried to do just seemed to make everything worse.

Then there was a knock on the door. Jiwoong sighed, he knew this was coming but it still sucked. Why couldn’t anyone just let him wallow? “Come in.”

Hanbin stepped in, closing the door behind him roughly. Jiwoong jolted at the noise. “Kim Jiwoong.” He stomped his way up to Jiwoong’s bed and stared down at him. Jiwoong could already feel his eyes start to burn. “Look, I get it, it’s been a long day, you’re tired. But is that really any excuse to take it out on the members?” Hanbin was fuming underneath his student body principal tone. Jiwoong might be dense but anyone could’ve seen that. “This is absolutely unacceptable, especially for the oldest member. What did Matthew even do to you?” He stood with his arms crossed, awaiting an answer.

“...Matthew?” Jiwoong questioned under his breath. He thought through every time he talked to Matthew today. What did he do to Matthew?

Hanbin’s posture slowly shifted as he stared at Jiwoong’s confused face longer and longer. “Wait…” He started pacing. “Do you not know? Why he’s upset?”

Jiwoong looked up finally, face covered in remorse. “Matthew’s upset? God, can you please just tell me what I did? I didn’t mean to upset anybody?”

Hanbin raked a hand down his face. “It’s not just Matthew, Hyung. Hao and Taerae too.” 

Jiwoong’s stomach turned. “God…” He heaved a sigh, trying to not let any tears form. 

“Hyung. You’ve been sighing and scowling for hours. How else are people supposed to take that?”

Jiwoong, whipped his head to the mirror on his vanity. Sure enough, the scowl lines were etched deep into his forehead. “No…” He couldn’t hold it anymore. He let his face fall to his hands. He choked out a sob. “Not- not aga-gain…” he muttered with the little breath he had. “Why does- does it have to be so- so har-ard?”

Hanbin stood back in a mix of shock and confusion. “What?”

“ Everything! ” Jiwoong sobbed out, curling into himself and rocking. “It’s so- so easy for everyone else! It’s no fa-fair!” Jiwoong was inconsolable, sobbing into his knees and hiccupping. “You don’t understand. You don’t- don’t get it.”

“Jiwoong-hyung…” Hanbin’s voice was suddenly gentle, like he was trying not to spook a deer. “What’s happening?” He tried to place a hand on Jiwoong’s back but he flinched away from the touch.

“Please- please don’t.” Jiwoong said in between breaths.

“Okay! That’s okay!” Hanbin floated his hand above Jiwoong, not sure what to do otherwise. “Deep breaths, Hyung. We don’t need to talk until you’re able to.”

Jiwoong made a strangled noise and nodded. He breathed as big as he could but it came out stuttery and weird. Even that made him plunge a little deeper back into it. He choked on his spit, coughing and letting out a desperate noise.

“Hey- hey now. No, come on, don't give up.” Hanbin moved to squat in front of Jiwoong. “Can I hold your hands?” 

Jiwoong frantically shook his head no. He felt like he would explode if someone touched him right now. His ears were already ringing.

“That’s okay, that’s okay. Can you try and look at me?” 

Jiwoong uncovered one of his eyes. Hanbin was all blurry but he was basically visible. He stared up at him with big frantic eyes, but forced a little smile.

“That’s good. C’mon, breathe with me.” He raised both of his hands, palms up, in front of his chest. “In.” He sucked in a lungful of air with a noise. Jiwoong tried his best to do the same. “And out.” He lowered his hands again. “One more time, okay? In... Out...” The breaths were coming a little easier. “Good. Good job, Hyung.” Hanbin gave a half-hearted smile. “Feeling any better?”

Jiwoong took a few more breaths before responding. He sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Mhmm.” He looked away. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Hanbin reached for his hands again but stopped himself. “Do you need anything? Water?”

“...Yes please.” Jiwoong flopped over onto his side, utterly exhausted.

“Be right back.” Hanbin made a gesture for Jiwoong to stay put and scurried out the door. Jiwoong heard the ambient murmuring of his bandmates no doubt asking what all the noise was about. It took every ounce of strength left in Jiwoong’s body to not curl back up into himself. 

The conversation drifted in as Hanbin reentered the room. 

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Jiwoong heard Gunwook whisper loudly.

“Later, later! He just needs water.” Hanbin closed the door on the expecting dorm mates. “Jeez, they’re nosy today.” He chuckled lightly. He placed the glass of water on the nightstand. “Here you are. You want some alone time?” Hanbin didn’t seem even slightly angry anymore. It didn’t make sense. 

Jiwoong shook his head. “Stay.” He hesitated for a second before reaching out a hand. 

Hanbin made his signature ‘o’ surprised face and gently took his hand by the fingers. He sat next to the bed, not letting go. “You can talk whenever you’re ready, Hyung.” He stroked down each of his nails one by one. “I can wait.” 

Jiwoong nearly started crying again at that. It didn’t make any sense. A minute ago Hanbin was yelling at him for being rude. But now, now he was sitting on his hard bedroom floor, patiently petting his hand. Waiting for him to be ready. 

“Thank you.”

“Hmm?” Hanbin hummed, rubbing gentle circles on each of Jiwoongs joints. “For what?”

“Staying. Trying.” Jiwoong sniffled. 

“That’s not something you should have to thank me for, Jiwoong-Hyung.” He turned to meet his eyes. 

“Huh?” Jiwoong swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I’m sorry I was so quick to yell. I was just worried for the members. If I would’ve known…” He trailed off. 

“It’s okay. I mess up like this a lot. I’m used to it.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” Hanbin turned his whole body to hold both of Jiwoongs hands.

“I’m sorry.” Jiwoong wiped his eyes. “I don't know how it happens. I just want to say what I mean. I don’t know why I’m so hard to understand.”

“Ah-“ Something like a light bulb seemed to go off in Hanbin’s head. “So earlier, when you told Matthew to ‘do whatever he wants’ you meant…?”

Jiwoong scrunched his face in confusion. “That he can do whatever he wants?” Jiwoong sat up. “I’m sorry, I’m really confused. What else could it mean?”

Hanbin held back a giggle. “Sorry, sorry. Usually when people say ‘do whatever you want’ they mean it in like a ‘you’re not going to listen to me anyway so why even bother telling you’ way.”

“ WHAT? ” Jiwoong’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, I had no idea.” He sat, dumbfounded for a moment. “Jesus, I have a lot of people to apologize to.” He smiled, tears still rimming his eyes. 

“It’s okay to talk however you want Jiwoong.” Hanbin shrugged. “As long as everyone understands the intent I don’t get the big deal. I mean, we’re all members, we’re gonna have to be ourselves around each other at some point.” He chuckled. 

“I guess you’re right…” he took a big swig of his water. “I don’t think I've actually drank any water today.”

“Jiwoong-hyung!” Hanbin scowled. “That’s not good for you.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve been busy.” He smiled.

“You’re lucky I saw you eat today or I’d be shoveling those leftovers down your throat.” Jiwoong chuckled at Hanbin’s very serious expression. 

“I’m okay, really.”

“You better be. We still have to debut.” Hanbin pinched the skin on Jiwoong’s index finger lightly. 

They sat for a moment, Jiwoong drinking his water and Hanbin massaging all the knuckles on Jiwoong’s hand. It was comfortable again. It never happened this quickly. It was… nice.

“Hanbin-ah?”

He hummed in reply. 

“Thanks again. For working with me on this. People don’t usually… try? I can be a handful, I know, and it just… means a lot.” 

“Do you think you’re the only handful here?” Hanbin laughed brightly. “We’re all handfuls, Hyung. We just have to figure out how to balance everything. We’re brand new at this- at being a group. There’s gonna be bumps.”

Jiwoong stared at Hanbin for a moment in adoration. “Have I ever told you how glad I am that you’re the leader and not me?”

Hanbin laughed again. “No I don’t think you have. But I appreciate it.” He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You wanna come talk to the boys? They're all worried about you.” He reached out a hand. 

Jiwoong took it and stood too. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?”

“Oh, very much so. Sounded like it too.” He knocked their shoulders together. “We’ve all cried on national tv before, this is nothing. Well maybe not Ricky. But Gyuvin’s told me about it, apparently his bottom lip quivers.” 

Jiwoong chuckled. “I’ll have to see that one of these days.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you will.” He dragged him towards the door and opened it. Gyuvin, Yujin, and Matthew all practically toppled on to the floor.

“Jiwoon-Hyung!” Matthew rebalanced himself then rushed over. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He looked up at him with big moony eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m okay now. Just got… overwhelmed.”

“Tell us next time, Hyung!” Gyuvin whined. “Then we can help.”

“Do you need anything?” Gunwook muttered. “I can make tea.” 

“I’m alright, I promise.” Jiwoong beamed. 

And he was. :)

[enchantingruinscandy]

sometimes I think I'm not really autistic but then other times the music is not coming from the right part of my room so I have to sit in silence, but then it's too quiet and I can hear my ears but I can't play music because it'll be all wrong

[babyjakes]

tw: my big meltdown 😎

every time i have a meltdown i always tell myself “okay that’ll be my last one” bc i kind of?? am convinced i will be the first ever autistic person to grow out of their autism but?? here i am again after like several months sans meltdown, ,, wow surprise ! another one happened!!! it’s almost as if !!! im autistic and it’s understandable that i have these sometimes!!! 🥴🥴🥴 except it’s ME so of course i can’t be that gentle with myself 😏 ,, hehe 🌝

[civicmuses]

You said you hit him because he pointed out that you're not nice to him. You reinforced his statement. You punished him for speaking up about how you treat him. You acted like an abuser, trying to silence him. You have no justifiable explanation, and you're realizing that now, aren't you?

Marsha couldn't hear the as she was in the middle of a meltdown. The constant harassment became too much for her emotionally, leaving her overstimulated.

Sarah stepped in front of Marsha. "Back off," Sarah hissed.

[gildead]

CONTENT WARNING: THIS DRABBLE CONCERNS THE DISCUSSION OF THE GRAPHIC DEATH OF A CHILD. IT IS RECOMMENDED YOU DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE FINISHED THE RECENT ARG. ALSO VISUAL DEPICTION OF BLOOD, GORE, AND FACIAL HORROR. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Picking up right where the thread with Petrel left off.

"You knew. You... all... knew."

Perhaps it was inevitable that this day would come. The day where they finally had to talk about what had happened to Gold on that day. Celebi just didn't think that day would be today. Evidentially, neither did Gold's Typhlosion, given the fearful stare she looked at Celebi with. Even Forever had stopped chewing on Gold's discarded shoe to listen in.

"Yes, Gold. We knew." Celebi's eye flickered to Forever, then Sable. "Most of us."

Gold went quiet, so much so that the only noise came from Hurry peeking out from behind his mother. "Did... Did Silver know too?"

"Boy... be reasonable. Why else would he have come back?" Please heaved out an uncomfortable sigh.

As soon as he received his confirmation, Gold's sleeves immediately began disintegrating. He froze in place, his expression despondent. "...Everyone knew. And you... you let me forget."

"Your friend... Lugia betrayed you. My fellow titan." Celebi gazed sympathetically. "We worried that the memory would hurt you more than you already were."

"More than being physically ripped apart and left to bleed out." Gold's stumps blossomed open, revealing the bone and sinew within. Black sludge began leaking from his eyes and nose. His tone was dangerously even.

"That's not what they... Gold." Please approached Gold, a paw outstretched towards his shoulder. "We wanted to make sure you'd be okay before we talked about it."

"You think I'm okay?" Gold wrenched himself away violently. "You think I-- that I was okay with any of this?!"

"Enough." Celebi's voice hardened. "She humbly requested that I save your life. I gazed into her memories, and I saw your pure heart. How you put your own safety on the line to protect your team. How you came so close to opening-"

"I DIDN'T ASK YOU TO BRING ME BACK!" Gold coughed violently after he screamed before continuing. "You think this is... that this is living? That I want to stay like this forever? That I can't see anybody I love 'cuz I'll just make them upset all over again? I'm dead! I should've stayed dead! You should've just left me alone!"

He turned to the tree and rammed his head against it repeatedly in between choked sobs, denting and splintering the wood under the sheer force. With each hit, he slowed down until he fully came to a stop, sliding to the ground. For a while, he just sat there, crying.

Hurry waddled over to him. "G-Gold-?"

Gold whipped around. His sockets had turned black, and his face contorted terribly as he rose up again. As he let out a primal screech, a cluster of Unown fanned around him, spelling out a terrible message.

S T A Y A W A Y F R O M M E

And just like that, he disappeared into the woods.

Forever's jaw dropped, along with the shoe. Hurry, sniffling, rushed back over to his mother, burying his face in her fur as he wept. As for her, she and Away watched after where Gold had fled, at complete losses for words.

Sable also watched, her tiny face scrunched in concentration. A couple of Unown from her own flock came out from behind her, and she shared glances with them. After a moment, she nodded.

And stepped forward, ready to follow her trainer. He was there for her before.

It was time to repay him.

[mnstcrsiiistcrs]

Throwing a fit every single time that someone calls you out on your toxic behavior isn't a good look, Marsha. One day, you're going to pick a fight with the wrong person and have to take responsibility for your actions.

Marsha doesn't respond: instead she begins to cry out as she rocks herself even more. Tears begin streaming down as she begins to pull and yank on her hair. She wants them just stop. She wants them to leave. It's too loud. She can't handle it anymore.

unprompted asks | open & accepting

[son-of-pendragon]

"you run away from things when you're scared." Lancer angst

He was so fucking tired.

The last time he had a meltdown like this, King Arthur — Arturia was denying his existence. That one started the spiral to Camlann; this one made him loose his shit when Morgan (Vivian) materialized. After an hour pressed hard enough to bruise into the farthest away corner he could find. After an hour crying, palms pressed to his ears trying to quiet the screaming static and panic, nails pricking his skin.

He was tired beyond words. (If he were reading the tenderness of one of his temples right, he’d also started knocking his head against one of the walls, at some point.) It was likely his Father that had turned him away from the corner, since Mordred himself had no memory of doing so, let alone intentionally laying his head in their lap. Trembling, the smaller dragon managed, “N-Not. Scared,” absolutely wrecked.

But he was right; this was far beyond scared.

@rake-rake

[mystical-strawberry-sheep]

Aku sat in the closed corner of her bed surrounded by pillows and stared down at her feet. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she said not a single word, just gazed down as she played the conversation in her head over and over and over again.

She had been standing with her coworkers as everyone got ready to leave for the day, and they were making plans to go out, enjoy a nice dinner together. She said nothing, used to being left out of things like this and preferring it that way most of the time. But today someone came to her and actually touched her arm, and when she turned she was face to face with one of the few people that gave her the time of day. Someone Aku might even call a friend.

"Do you want to come?" She asked, and Aku's eyes lowered away from her face. "I know you usually don't, but I think you should try something new today."

Aku worried about it, but she nodded anyway, and agreed, returning her gaze and smiling, being polite and socially acceptable. And she went with the group to the restaurant. There was a lot of drinking, and the group became loud fairly quickly, and Aku found herself shivering just a bit at the impact of each noise. It hurt, made her nails hurt, and she was feeling uncomfortable. And then a heavy arm fell over her shoulders, making her flinch.

"You know what your problem is?" Her friend said, a little too loudly. "You're too stuck up! No one wants to talk to you because you act like a serial killer or something! Why are you so antisocial? Your parents didn't love you or something?"

Aku shook her head, uncomfortable with the conversation but trying to be polite anyway, "It's not that, I just... I don't like being a burden on people."

The friend scoffed, "Are you kidding me? You're already a burden. Do you know how hard I have to work to heal my reputation? People hear I talk to you and they hate me! Look around, Akuchii! No one even wants to look at you! Ugly face, no status, no money. I'm doing you a favor! If you can't even be friendly you're basically useless!"

She didn't want to think that the words hurt. She felt like she knew that already. But having them reaffirmed in real time was a little different than wondering in the back of your mind if it were true or not.

"Don't cry!" Her friend barked, and she noticed for the first time how wet her eyes were. "God, I hate it when you cry."

"I- I'm sorry, please excuse me," Aku stood and began walking out and almost ran right into one of her coworkers, who steadied himself by grabbing her shoulders.

"Whooooa there," he drawled, grinning down at her. "Where are you going? We're not going home yet."

She shook her head, "I-I'm... I have to go ho--"

"Hey hey hey hey. Hey. Hey, look. You got something? See? You've got something right there..."

He pointed down her shirt, but when she followed the line of his gesture he flicked his finger up and popped the end of her nose. It was harder than she ever would have expected something like that, and it hurt. And in the same moment, the whole group burst out laughing around her, along with the exclamations of several of her coworkers.

"I can't believe that actually worked!"

"What, are you guys middle schoolers?"

"Did you see her face!? Hahaha!"

There was also the echoing of someone admonishing them for making too much noise, but the tears were spilling over then and Aku rushed around her coworker to all but run out of the building. She went straight home, and dove into her bed immediately, hiding as far in the corner as she could to get away from what had just happened.

But she was the problem, and she couldn't escape that. Her anger and frustration at herself built up, and after a while she had begun slapping herself hard in the face and head, reddening her cheeks and giving herself a headache. She knew she would regret that later, when her headaches were so bad she couldn't sleep and it sat as a steady reminder of how stupid she'd been, but she knew she deserved it. For being defective, for being unable to communicate with others properly. For not being the thing everyone needed her to be.

To be a burden on anyone she tried to be close to.

She pulled her covers over her head and closed her eyes, huddled into the tight corner of her bed like her whole house was dangerous. She just wished... She didn't even exist...

[cupcakeslushie]

Recovering your autonomy vs Completely cutting yourself off from your support system. FIGHT!

This happens sometime after the ongoing Kendra reunion comic, but not far enough along that the brothers have figured out how to navigate certain landmines.

Donnie is still re-adjusting to communicating his needs in a confident manner. Sometimes he gets a little too worked up, and lets the panic take over. He regrets the yelling later.

…The next morning