#really angered me as a kid because my autistic brain was like... okay but is this a mask if they aren't actually the people they are being

[whatsittoya34]

[omnitricks]

this is a bunch of nothing but i made it so im going to post it somewhere. but its for me first and foremost

and for your reading pleasure im going to post a bunch of shit under a readmore

okay so, if you know me, you know that i have some level of bipolar disorder. i was tentatively diagnosed by a therapist i went to when i was about 17, and while i never got that formal diagnosis tattooed onto my body, it, frankly, was kind of fucking obvious in retrospect.

i have talked.. a LOT. about how my teens were filled with a near constant level of homicidal anger. a lot of it was comprised of your standard teen loneliness, going through the wrong puberty, and maybe a sprinkling of childhood emotional abuse, but. whatever. you get it.

i am also autistic, which is fun. the two are.. 'comorbid,' or something, maybe thats the wrong term, but i dont care. nobody is reading this. anyway. basically this means whenever i do feel something, which isn't always, i feel it in a Fun and Unusual way. so far i have been able to cope with my fun and unusual emotions by rationalizing them, or like.. anthropomorphizing them, but in reverse. i dont know. i am angry a LOT, and i form that anger in my head as a smilodon. again, autistic. not the point.

but i've never really thought about what my bipolar disorder itself felt like in my brain. until, y'know, this. this inexplicable thing i can't get rid of but makes my life harder. you know how it is. but.. anyway. back to the near constant level of homicidal anger.

im not going to blame the myriad shitty things i did as a kid exclusively on my mental illnesses, and how poorly they were managed, but im confident i wouldn't have been nearly as bad had i gone to a proper psychiatrist. and gotten medicated, probably. but then again i probably would've done better with *no* mental help considering the first therapist my parents took me to essentially pushed me back into the closet for a few years. that was fun.

point is. i've come to terms with a lot in the past few years, but only recently have i been able to like.. help with it? i have a very supportive partner and she helps so much in calming me down. but its still, yknow, a mental illness that i have.

which is why it's so upsetting to me when people refer to intrusive thoughts and become upset with you if you talk about yours and they're not fun and innocent and quirky enough. people with intrusive thoughts about murder rise up. 'eww theres something wrong with you' WHAT DO YOU THINK MENTAL ILLNESS IS, *CORBYN.*

sorry to any corbyns in the crowd tonight i bet you're a great 17 year old trans boy who hangs out in your high school's library during lunch.

this is a lot of rambling. but like. point is. i have bipolar disorder and it makes living hard and i never feel properly 'safe' in my own home. because, though i know this isn't true, i feel as if i could at one random moment just snap and enter another one of those white-hot rage states where i do something ill regret for the rest of my life. you know?

but all in all, im a lot better than i was. im not great *now* but im a lot better too

[chekovscaramelcurls]

listen. i love 2012!Raph with all my heart and soul. (and surprisingly enough, no, it’s not because of the two Yelchin Dreams (TM) that i had like two years ago.)

(also it has been nearly three years of me typing “Yelchin” and my phone still tries to get me to change it to Yeltsin every single time. no, phone, i do not mean the former leader of russia. i mean the actor. and also sometimes his author uncle.)

he jus a lil guy. but he still did wrong by mikey…er, all of ‘em, tbh.

so why am i so passionate about this? well, i can relate to raphael a lot. i was an autistic kid who went undiagnosed until SIX MONTHS AGO, and i’m eighteen if that puts it into perspective. and everyone around me thought i had “anger issues” and that i was “a crybaby.” no. no, those were meltdowns, go fuckin’ figure. no wonder i couldn’t control ‘em.

(oh, and yes, i do get upset when ppl accuse rise!donatello of being an asshole or a psychopath because he’s autistic or because of the ONE TIME he really messed up. y’know, the whole “gifts” thing. and once he was TOLD why it was bad, he felt like absolute shit afterwards! like, i just—oh, i do shit like that too, and it makes sense to me because it followed the fuckin’ social norms three minutes ago but now it suddenly just doesn’t anymore, OOPS! well, guess i’m a goddamn blue-marble motherfuckin’ psychopath, then!)

but like, raph is proven to be more than capable of controlling himself. several times. (and yeah, sometimes he couldn’t. i ain’t faulting him for those, i’d be a giant hypocrite if i did.)

am i saying raphael was evil or a jerk or anything like that? no! for god’s sakes, even though i love all of them, he’s my favorite of the turtles!

yeah, yeah, laugh it up, chuckles, he’s my favorite because my sleepy-time-RNG-brain decided “fuck it. raphael the ninja turtle has anton yelchin’s voice now.” and then did it again a few months later, after i’d forgotten about the first one…man, this will never not be funny to me. on a side note, there’s this website called mycast.io, and you can vote any actor for any character. and i do mean ANY. and apparently two different ppl think my mans would’ve made a good donatello? like i don’t disagree but i’m too attached to the concept of ay!raph now.

but yeah, anyway. i usually can’t stand villain characters because of the whole black-&-white Autism Morality (TM) or whatever. (/hj) so me saying that raph’s my favorite just goes to show that i don’t think of him as a villain by any means.

what i am saying is that his actions were wrong. his intent wasn’t. unless a giant plot point flew over my head and no one ever bothered to mention anything about it ever again…yeah, no. then again nobody ever talks about the fact that donnie fucking died in the 2012 series at least twice?? probably more?? so idfk. but that doesn’t make it okay. mikey didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was. he didn’t do anything to anybody.

i just. it hurts seeing him get demonized for no real reason. he’s babey. it’s just that he’s…also babey with mental health issues.

so, TL;DR—

stop justifying raph’s actions and bullying as him “jUsT bEiNg A sIbLiNg”—like wtf u guys—WITHOUT DEMONIZING HIM AS A RESULT (i swear ppl can only do one extreme or the other). like, think of it this way. raphael clearly loves his family. but he needs therapy someone to tell him that, while occasional lighthearted teasing is okay as long as it doesn’t cross any boundaries, bullying his brothers 24/7 is not a healthy way to show it!

also this whole thing may or may not exist because i want 2012/rise crossover content that doesn’t bash 2012!raphael at every fuckin’ turn…

[katyspersonal]

(Vent)

I find myself so conflicted. There are just... so many things I want to talk about. I want to talk about how infuriating it is that “feminists” fought so hard to claim that all women deserve respect - only to end up demonizing female beauty and fit-ness as a concept for being “cishet male bait”, or hate feminine characters in general unless they can get indulgence for being lesbians or trans women. How annoying it is that woke clout chasers run around slapping ‘comphet’ and ‘lesbophobia’ stickers on everything when people are righteously unhappy with bi erasure - would those people be content if someone “erased” a lesbian character saying she was just bi all along but convinced herself to be a lesbian out of hating men? BOTH can play this game, lil’ shit. How people come and have a go like ‘but we all are fighting the SAME battle against CIS WHITE MEN’ that makes me feel cringe for being a woman and thus dragged into this “opression” game against my will, I want to wash my gender away like dirt to not be associated with this madness - but when I step away too far I inevitably find legitimate incels that hate women like feminists hate men. When did I crossed the line where chased down stray dogs ended and true wolves started? Where can I hide?

But it is certainly not in my head. And I want to NOT want to talk about any of this, I just wonder - did it really have to get like this? Becoming so tangled with internet and fandoms? Well... I’ve ALWAYS been just an autistic kid more interested in fiction than reality, so maybe my fate is just written by how my brain is built, heh. But there is just boiling anger that I sometimes struggle to contain, it ends up feeling like I am a dragon that simply tried to make a deep sigh - and bam, accidentally everything around got ignited. After this I feel like I did something wrong - despite ‘ranting about things you dislike’ is such a relevant thing that some Youtubers make it their BRAND and get hella followers! But I just feel like now everything ignites, and I should extinguish the coals with memes, reblogged pretty arts, jokes and ‘happy thoughts’. But ‘touch the grass’ or not, but the frustration is always here somewhere, like a permanently smoking volcano. I know rants are okay, but it always feels like after I only BARELY open up about my perpetual annoyance - people already get scared. So what would they think of me if I lost ALL inhibitors and just got it ALL out?

I just want to believe that out there there is a hater (affectionate) so furious that I am no match to them, and me ranting to them will feel like barely a complaint, let alone rant. And it will feel greeeeeeat for a while, because this anger will be out of my mind.

[omegasamwilson]

I literally had a panic attack when I watched Ayo take off Bucky's arm. I was born without my left arm and see a lot of myself in Bucky. I have a prosthetic and had to stop the episode and watch it later. And it really hurt me to see your completely disregard that and say I have no right to be upset. It really pisses me off. I'm fully acknowledging that Bucky did a terrible thing, and he needed to be stopped. But she didn't have to remove his arm. He wouldn't have hurt her. To see you refer to his arm in the tags as a weapon further hurt me. It's not a fucking weapon, it's his fucking arm. You're trying to twist this into a race issue when it's about fucking ableism. I'm brown not black so I don't know if you'll accept my concerns with your post

Hi, one, I apologize for what is sure to be a very long and very frustrated statement. But I’m dealing with a lot of shit rn (actually related to race and ableism specifically) but I wanted to respond because my ADHD ass will forget otherwise.

Okay. One, you say “he wouldn’t have hurt her.”

We, the audience, knows that. Ayo did not. What she knows is that the man before her was an assassin and sniper, even before he was captured and forced to kill by HYDRA. He was a WWII sniper and seemed to be quite skilled (I’m going to assume that’s one of the reasons HYDRA tried to experiment on him and picked him to he the winter soldier.) In any case, this newly reformed (and at the time, just barely reformed. As in, he was healed a month, maybe two months before the events of infinity war. So he’s been healed for a whopping seven months.) This newly reformed assassin, who had been the victim of either chemical or otherwise mental subjugation freed a terrorist from prison.

Not only did he free a terrorist from prison, he freed a terrorist that was obsessed with HYDRA. If any terrorist knew a back door to unlock the winter soldier again, it would be Baron Zemo, who knew each and every one of HYDRA’s secrets.

While Shuri is definitely brilliant, it’s entirely possible that HYDRA buried a safety within their “asset” just in case he was able to break his programming. It’s entirely possible that it was so well buried amongst the labyrinth that is the brain that even Shuri couldn’t find it. After all, Shuri isn’t a neuroscientist, and the brain is largely regarded as the final frontier. So it’s entirely possible that she missed buried programming.

So, we have a person that got rid of HYDRA’s programming seven months ago that just freed one of the only people on the planet that could have the information that could potentially reactivate the winter soldier. And THEN, we have a video of this man “acting” as the winter soldier in madripoor. This was uploaded on the internet and I’m assuming that Ayo saw it.

What proof does Ayo have that he won’t hurt her? That she won’t weaponize his arm and hurt her? What proof does she have that he’s not under Zemo’s control, that Zemo can’t control him in a second. The only thing she knows are that Bucky Barnes freed a terrorist that had access to all of HYDRA’s information, the terrorist appeared to control the winter soldier in madripoor, and it is entirely possible that there is buried programming designed to deactivate the winter soldier.

She deactivates it, realizes he’s fully in control of himself and says, “bast damn you, James.” As in, “fuck you for freeing a terrorist and acting like it isn’t a big deal. You are clearly acting on your own accord in this.”

And yes, it’s different being Black vs. being Brown. It isn’t to say that racism and ableism don’t intersect with Brown folks because obviously it does.

But l specifically asked for Black opinions bc of the demonization of Black folks, especially the trope of “big scary Black women” or “big scary Black men.”

It’s ironic I see this today when I have a story that is so relevant and anger inducing.

I work with white parents of Black children, usually through adoption since I work primarily with lgbt parents, but I do have some cis het white parents raising Black biological kids. One of the parents and friends got into it today because her autistic Black child got into it with their sibling (also disabled). The sibling intentionally triggered their older sibling and punched them and it escalated to the point where the bigger sibling finally reacted and shoved the younger sibling. It broke the younger kid’s glasses. The youngest is legally blind and needs very expensive and specific prescription classes to even have 20/40 vision.

The mom called the police on her child and the kid was arrested and charged. She is 15. Mom described the kid as aggressive and awful and terrible and all sorts of names. A ww called the police on her Black 15 year old child having a meltdown. And she played into stereotypes that Black people, Black women, are aggressive/scary/angry. A ww could’ve gotten her child killed for having a meltdown because she broke a white child’s disability aid.)

A ww couldve gotten her child killed because she played into anti-Black stereotypes. That white people need protection from them. Even when the white child was initially the aggressor in the scenario.

Sure, it’s different, but it plays to the same stereotypes. Poor white disabled person needs protection from the aggressive scary Black person, and we’re just going to assume that the Black person was being unnecessarily aggressive because it plays into all of the stereotypes about Black people. No, there’s no way that this Black person was making a decision based on a series of evidence that could point to them genuinely being harmed.

(By the way, in the scenario of the two kids, I think they both needed help and support, and that the police shouldn’t have been called period.)

Nope, it’s just an aggressive Black person being ableist.

The same systems that have everyone seeing Bucky as a cute little uwu cinnamon roll in need of protection are what caused everyone to see Ayo as an aggressive ableist Black woman. White people usually get the benefit of the doubt. The best intentions are believed even when the evidence clearly says otherwise.

The evidence Ayo had indicated that she had no idea whether the winter soldier could’ve been reactivated and whether or not Bucky could’ve been under zemo’s control. She had no idea. None. She made a decision based off that information. And the fact that Bucky didn’t react strongly indicated that he was acting on his own accord.

Mayhaps, Ayo might even have been trying to trigger the winter soldier. I just thought of this but it makes sense. That the WS would react very defensively and even potentially deadly to that level of fighting, even if his previous orders were different.

In any case, this situation isn’t comparable to every day disabled people because our disability aids to not double as weapons. Most people can’t do more harm with a prosthetic limb than they can with a regular limb. Bucky can. Bucky’s arm is also a weapon and that fact complicates matters considerably. If bucky’s arm were simply a regular arm with typical strength, it’d be a no brainer situation. But it’s not. We don’t know the wakanda enhancements of his arms, but we know in the comics, he could kill with a single punch using his arm. He uses his arm tactically to map his surroundings. He uses his arm to send off EMPs that can disabled weaponry. It even has a retractable blade for close combat. It is a disability aid that it also a weapon. It was designed to be a weapon. The normal conversations around disability aids don’t fit it because no one today has a disability aid that could kill someone in seconds and even cause larger scale damage with a targeted EMP.

And finally, I want to say this, I am truly sorry that you had a panic attack while watching the episode. That is never fair and it’s never fun to be triggered by television shows.

I do hope this helped to better explain and clarify my perspective.

[aliennopossumm]

It Will Come Back

Happy [late-] birthday @andromedaspace! I hope you’re having a good week!

Pairing: mutual pining Analogical, romantic Analogical at the end Warnings: homophobia, hurt/comfort, quite a lot of cursing, kissing, so much awkward silence Characters: Logan Sanders, Virgil Berry, Roman Smith Character notes: autistic nonbinary Logan [they/them], autistic trans Virgil [xe/xem], genderqueer acearo Roman [he/prince]

Fic summary: Logan had known Virgil for a while now, but when they start getting gay thoughts, they consult Roman to help

2,921 words 16,543 characters

you can also read this over on AO3

It had been about three or so months since Logan had met Virgil. Since their original run in with each other, the two had been hanging out quite a bit, not restricting themselves to just the forest they first met each other in. Unfortunately for Logan, xe did not go to their highschool, but was rather homeschooled; this didn't stop Virgil in any way, however. After a week of knowing them, xe started to wait outside the school gates for Logan, making a habit of walking them home. This day was not any different, Logan making their way out of a particularly uninteresting English lesson - it did lift their mood knowing Virgil would be waiting. They were one of the last one's out, looking around for xem. Anxiousness started to consume them, unable to see xem outside - did xe just leave them?

They frowned slightly, taking their phone out of their pocket to see if they had any message. Logan jumped a little when everything went dark, panicking slightly, before realising somebody was just covering their eyes.

"Guess whoooo?" Logan relaxed at Virgil's voice, gently removing xyr hands with their own.

"Hey Vee," they smiled, turning around, "I thought you had left."

"Nope, just this guy was talking to me. Think he was British?"

Logan's eyes widened slightly in realisation, "Roman?"

"Yeah! Prin was asking me about you," Virgil took Logan's hand, as xe usually did when they walked home together, "he sorta... gave me a shovel talk? The whole 'hurt them and I'll hurt you' schtick."

A whine escaped Logan's mouth, "I told prin specifically to not bother you. I'm sorry, Virge"

"Hey, it's okay, it's cute how much your friends care about you," xe chuckled softly, checking both directions before leading the two across the road. Logan blushed a small bit at the comment, going to speak again. They were cut off by a yell from a passing car, making the pair turn their heads. The engine was so loud, Logan couldn't make out what whoever was in the car said exactly, but they could make out the last few words.

"What are you, gay!?"

It was said with so much bitterness, so much hatred. Several conflicting feelings started to consume Logan - anger, sadness, a small tang of guilt. They looked at Virgil with a hard to make out expression, their mouth unable to mutter anything, but their mind screaming. It told them to run in the opposite direction, to yell at their friend, to apologise, to kiss Virgil. Why did they want to kiss Virgil?

A few seconds passed, both of them clearly uneasy. Virgil shifted xyr hand slightly, making it obvious xe was considering letting go. Xe spoke after a few more seconds of silence, "I'm sorry, L."

"'s fine," Logan refused to look at Virgil, rather staring at the interlocked hand. As much as their brain begged and screamed for them to let go, they didn't. It was nice, they felt loved for once.

The older one nodded, swallowing dryly and starting to walk again, "right, right. Let's just get you home, hm?" No more words were able to escape Logan's mouth, just nodding and gingerly following xem. To their mutual dislike, the next ten or so minutes were spent in complete awkward silence. Both opened their mouths to speak at a few points, but not a word was said from either of them. Neither pointed this out, eventually reaching the door of Logan's block of apartments.

The building seemed to loom over the pair of friends now, making Logan feel as if they were shrinking into a miniscule room with just Virgil, forced to be close. It was an uncomfortably claustrophobic feeling.

"I'll uh, I'll get going," Virgil finally said, "see ya."

"Bye," Logan mumbled, quickly letting go of xyr hand and making their way upstairs without looking back at xem. On most occasions, Virgil would walk them to the front door, and xe would then call them on xyr way back to their own home. None of this happened though, sulking their way into the kitchen. Anxiously, Logan peered out the window to see where Virgil was - it did make them feel a bit creepy for doing so, but they were worried. Xe ended up making uncomfortable eye contact, the two immediately breaking it once they had noticed. As if their world was falling to pieces, which is what it felt like, Logan poured themselves a glass of cold water and hurriedly walked to their own room. It was quiet. Virgil wasn't being called, their parents weren't home, the AC was turned off. It was quiet.

Too quiet. Logan hated it, reaching their room and shutting the door with their foot. Everything in their brain yelled at them to just slump onto the floor with their back against the door, but they decided against it. They hung up their bag, walking to their bed and taking several long gulps of water. It was cold, numbing their teeth slightly. Iciness rushed to their brain, resulting in a groan and a small pampth where they fell onto their back and shifted so they laid on their pillow. Everything was fine until those kids. They harshly blinked a few times before staring at the green stars, planets and moon that were stuck above their bed, reaching out gently. Logan "grabbed" the moon next to the Earth with their hand, closing it into a fist as they were holding it. Nothing else changed, the room staying still. It couldn't have been more than a minute before their arm started to become tired, letting out a built up sigh and letting their arm flop next to them on the bed. The moon reminded them of Virgil. In an, only somewhat successful, attempt of getting their mind off their friend, they started to count the plastic stars.

Twenty six... twenty seven... twenty nine- wait, shit, they messed up. Logan groaned loudly, rolling onto their side. Nothing could make them stop thinking. With thoughts still buzzing, they wiggled out of the dark jacket they were wearing, taking their phone into their hand before throwing the clothing onto the floor. On most days, they'd be extremely strict with themself about keeping their room clean, but at this point, they had no energy to care. The phone was unlocked, showing the background - a selfie Virgil took of xem and Logan. It had a corny SnapChat filter on top of it, a black bar at the bottom with white text reading 'my nerd <4'. Great, now they were overthinking if there was any hidden context to that. Yet again, they sighed, opening their contacts and scrolling to the bottom. Logan's thumb hovered over the contact name 'Virge<3' for several seconds, before scrolling up an embarrassing amount from the V contact page to the R contact page. They hesitantly clicked on the contact name 'Ro 👑’, sitting up and leaning their back against their headboard.

Ring ring. "C'mon, Ro, pick up," Logan mumbled impatiently," ring ring, "c'mon, please..." ring ri-

"Yellow?" Roman's voice came from the other side, the soft sound of Mitski in the background.

"Roman, I think I've fucked up."

"You, fucking up?" Roman was heard sitting up, "that's a change. What happened?"

"Virge and I were walking from school and... and it was fine, until this group of kids sped past us in their shitty car. They said some shit and we ended up walking home in silence," they groaned loudly, "xe didn't even call me after xe left, just... walked away."

"What did they say, Lo?" The younger's voice was much softer now, the background music turned down so prin could listen better.

"We were holding hands and they-" Logan swallowed dryly, slipping down the headboard, "they yelled 'what are you, gay?'. I can't stop thinking about it."

"They just saw two masculine presenting people being close friends and jumped to conclusions. Plus, you two are gay, just not for eachother."

"I- I guess, but now I'm just confused," Logan laid back down onto their back, "my brain was yelling at me to do so many things at once. To run away, or yell at xem, or kiss xem, or say sorry-"

"To kiss xem?" Roman repeated, a chuckle at the bottom of his throat, "I think you may be slightly gay for xem."

Logan groaned, "I'm not." They looked away from the direction of the phone, despite the fact Roman could not see them. "At least, I don't think I am," they mumbled the last part quietly.

"Logan," prin was heard shuffling on his bed, sounding as though he sat up, "what made you concerned? What those assholes said, or the small chance you may be in love with Vee?"

They didn't reply for a few seconds, taking several deep breaths. Logan shifted uncomfortably, "I actually... think it's more of the second option. I... the other thoughts didn't even really bother me, because I know I wouldn't run from xem or yell at them. But I know I would happily apologise and-" they bit their lip, "and I would... happily... kiss xem..."

"I'm glad I gave xem the shovel talk now," Roman chuckled softly, "listen, do you want my shitty aro advice, or do you want to suffer with whatever your feelings are?"

Logan let out another mix of a sigh and a groan, "sure. Something is better than nothing."

"Tell xem - listen, before you go on a rant about how you can't," Logan shut their mouth which they did open in protest, "tell xem how you feel. This isn't the first time you've had these gay feelings for xem, is it? You like holding xyr hand, spending time with xem. Hell, you've called the time you spent in the forest with xem 'dates'! On multiple occasions. It's clear you like xem - it may not be romantic, but you like xem so fucking much. You were both outcasts, weren't you?"

Logan took a shaky breath, processing all the information they were just told. They blinked once or twice, "yeah, neither of us really had... many friends when we met. Virge was homeschooled and I only really knew you and Patt at this point."

"You have a genuine connection, everyone can tell that - even the fucks who taunted you. You love xem, and xe loves you. Your feelings are the reason you enjoy being physical, loving to just be in each other's company; why you had such a knee-jerk reaction to the thought of kissing xem. You probably had similar thoughts before, haven’t you?" Roman silently waited for them to reply.

Thinking back through the month's they had known xem, Logan realised the answer was yes. They mumbled the response quietly, and prin did hear it.

"But you're thinking so hard into this because for once, somebody else recognised this. Those kids... they mocked you for potentionally liking xem, they made you realise that you may actually be gay for xem. You've always seen xem as attractive, haven't you?"

Their world seemed as if it was shrinking in on themselves at the realisation, but was able to squeeze out a few more words, "yeah, since... since the moment we met. Even though xe was teasing me when I first saw xem, it... I appreciated how attractive they were. Fuck."

"You alright?" Roman's tone shifted - it was no longer their serious and lecture-esque voice, but soft. It sounded, as Logan liked to put it due to being an only child, like a protective brother's voice.

"I think so? Thank you, Ro, so much," Logan let out a small, happy noise, "I should text xem."

"Yeah," it was almost as if Roman's smile could be felt from the other side of the phone, "yeah, you should. Good luck, Lo-gay."

"I told you to stop calling me that," they ruffled their own hair, a habit they had picked up from both Virgil and Roman, "thank you, Ro, really. Bye, I love you."

"I love you toooo~” Roman sang the last word, "farewell!"

Once the call was over, the room went back into being too quiet, too cold. They lowered the phone from their ear, looking at the screen; underneath Roman's contact name was the call time - almost fifteen minutes. That conversation lasted for that long? Attempting to ignore everything else that was currently happening at the moment, pressing the back button and scrolling to Virgil's name in their contacts. At first, they were going to just call xem to ask, but opted to just texting. Logan bit their lip, anxiously writing out a message in an attempt to follow Roman's advice. Triple checking the message, though it felt as they read it back over a thousand times, they finally hit send on the message.

'Hey, Virge, I'm so incredibly sorry for the walk home today. I just froze up. Can we meet up at the place we first met to talk?'

They closed the texting window, looking back up to the ceiling stars. Nothing in them was really expecting Virgil to be that happy to talk to them again after what had happened, so you could imagine their shock when the phone almost immediately chimed. Logan pulled the phone to their face, clicking on the notification from Virgil, to their surprise.

'itz alr , l , promis . not mad ! u mean by the lake? cus if so , i ' ll see you ther in uhhh'

'10 minz?'

As usual, xyr typing ended up comforting Logan. They smiled sadly at the message, starting to sit up as they wrote a reply.

'Yeah, the lake! I’ll see you soon, Virge?'

‘ yea yea ‘

'<4'

For no particular reason, the difference of how Virgil typed emoticon hearts made Logan feel all bubbly inside. A green bag was slung over their shoulder - the bag which contained all their forest-exploring gear. Anxiety still consumed them for the most part, but knowledge that Virgil was safe and wasn't mad soothed them. Knowledge seemed to comfort them often, slipping on some black Doc Martens. The phone was gently placed into their pocket, leaning down and lacing the shoes up. They took a large, deep breath and left the apartment, humming to themselves to divert any nervous thoughts from their mind. Warmth covered their body almost as soon as they stepped outside their block of apartments, making their way towards the forest.

It didn't take long for them to reach the still lake, noticing Virgil sitting in the same place where they first met. Logan swallowed dryly, sitting opposite to them and leaning against their favourite moss-covered rock. They didn't want to have the first word.

"I'm sorry, L," Virgil repeated their same statement from a while earlier, "I should've broken the silence and said something more."

"It's okay, it wasn't either of our faults. I-" they refused to make eye contact, "I spoke to Roman about what happened."

"What did he say?" xe gently took one of their hands. Logan didn't reply, not holding Virgil's hand but not pulling away either. "L, what did he say?"

"He comforted me and made... made me think about shit."

"Think about what?" Virgil's voice was gentle, rubbing xyr thumb over Logan's hand gently.

"I wanted to kiss you."

"Oh."

"Sorry," it was the only thing they could think of. Truthfully they didn't know why they were apologising, or what exactly for. Virgil didn't visibly look uncomfortable. Were they apologising for having queer thoughts?

"Don't be," xe never stopped stroking their hand, looking down at it and processing what xe was just told.

"I still want to kiss you."

"Oh," Virgil repeated, but still didn't stop. Nothing Logan did could make xem stop attempting to calm them. "I, just- why?"

"Because you're... you. You're fun, and kind, and cheer me up," Logan's voice slowly grew more confident with each word, "you always make me smile and I enjoy the time we spend together. You're pretty, and a bit sarcastic, but still so loving and- and you're Virgil. I love you because you are Virgil."

Xe didn't reply for several seconds; Logan held their breath, going to apologise before getting cut off by xem.

"Kiss me, idiot."

Logan flushed slightly, the stars in their eyes. They gently leaned closer, softly kissing xem. It wasn't the best kiss in the world - neither of them having that much experience. Even so, it was tender and love-filled, Virgil pulling back after a few seconds. Xe breathed out deeply, chuckling when xe noticed how Logan now had slightly black stained lips.

"Shit, I-" xe smiled, "kissing before marriage?" Virgil gently smudged the transferred lipstick around their mouth with a thumb. "So..."

"I liked that," said Logan, leaning into xyr hand, "I like you."

"So much you want me as your boyfriend?" It was slightly jokingly, but truthfully it was the only thing xe wanted at that moment.

Logan paused, kissing xyr nose, "please?"

Virgil chuckled, peppering kisses on their face, "of course. I love you, nerd."

"I love you too."

Logan leaned their head on xyr shoulder, smiling widely. They'll be okay.

[thistangledbrain]

Day 19 & 20!

Day 19 - “I hate it when...”

As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.

Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.

I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.

I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.

I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....

Which is a good segue into Day 20 -

————————————-

“Communication”

Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....

Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.

I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)

On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)

Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆

Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆

I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).

You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)

Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....

I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.

Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).

Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”

“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”

“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”

My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....

So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...

We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂

Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!

But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.

My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).

And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.

Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘

[teetlesandnimjas]

Actually FUCK IT IM GOING ON THIS RANT NOW. YOUVE ALL HEARD IT BEFORE BUT I DONT CARE IM MAD

SO 2012 Mikey is an ADHD-coded character. I don’t know if this was on purpose or not, either way it’s extremely obvious in his actions and speech. Quick note, I am also ADHD, so this rant will be a little bias, sorry. I have seen 3 seasons of this show, so I’m not uninformed. I had to stop watching MAINLY BECAUSE OF THIS:

IN THE SERIES NOT ONCE IS IT ADRESSED THAT MIKEY HAS A GENUINELY DIFFICULT TIME CONTROLLING HIMSELF AND HIS BRAIN, AND HES NEVER BEEN HELPED ONCE! HE’S ABUSED AND TREATED LIKE A BURDEN! And I didn’t want to get “mad” or “uncivilized” but you have to admit that MIKEY GETS BEAT UP AND MADE FUN OF JUST FOR WHO HE IS. He doesn’t have a filter, that’s obvious. Yeah, he can be a little brat, but it’s not his fault. You think he wants to be HIT OVER AND OVER AGAIN? He makes a mistake? Smack! He starts talking a lot? Smack! His attention seeking behaviors- more on that later- start to kick in? SMACK! He JUST FUCKING EXISTS AS HIMSELF? SMACK! And the worst part is ITS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY? THIS IS A JOKE? No this is horrible! It’s- dare I say it- ABUSE! I know siblings roughhouse and playfully banter, but this isnt roughhousing, this is one sided and cruel. Mikey, who can’t control himself and his energy no matter how hard he tries, constantly RUNS AWAY from Raph, Leo, AND MAYBE EVEN DONNIE AT ONE POINT. The worst of it is Raph, yeah, OBVIOSULY. You put an “annoying” filterless teen in a room with a hotheaded asshole, not too good. But that’s still his brother. Raph also isn’t completely evil and horrible, he has genuine anger issues that could be solved with some quick education and a better outlet. BUT YOU’D THINK HE WOULD SPARE SOME KINDNESS FOR HIS F A M I L Y. It gets ridiculous! His solution for everything is HIT MIKEY. Now I don’t want to make assumptions, but one of my issues with my dumb dumb electric meat blob is the self-worth issues. I feel bad for what I say and do, because I can’t help it. Thankfully I have coping mechanisms and my ways of helping myself so I can work on staying quiet when I need to, and not feeling such loathing when I don’t. Yknow who DOESNT know what to do, and isn’t even sure why he’s like this and probably thinks he’s A SCREW UP BECAUSE THERES LITERALLY A WHOLE EPISODE ABOUT THAT? Mikey. AND YKNOW WHO DOESNT HELP? HIS FAMILY. YEAH THEY GREW UP IN THE SEWERS BUT YOUD THINK THE S C I E N T I S T WOULDVE NOTICED. But, no, Donnie verbally berates and belittles him. Leo’s okay, he does chase him around at only one point I can think of, and (albeit a headcanon that Leo’s autistic) he felt that Mikey disrespected something important to him, and yknow what fine as long as you apologize and don’t do it again, yeah whatever. It’s just ONCE. Raph hits Mikey EVERY EPISODE. AND ITS A J O K E??? N O. This genuinely influences young kids, especially young boys who were the target audience of the show, and this can HURT SIBLING RELATIONSHIPS. This normalizes the hitting and the yelling and the abuse. I don’t think siblings should roughhouse at all, and when they do it should be taken seriously and be treated as if two unrealated kids fought. A little fighting is natural, but THE LEVELS THE SHOW GOES TO HURTS. IT HURTS ME. I didn’t grow up with 2012, my parents wanted me to be all girly, but I watched 3 seasons about a year ago. And I hated the treatment of what I saw as a relatable character. Anyways stan Mikey, kill Raph, agree to disagree.

Oh and now because MIKEY ALSO HAS MASSIVE ATTENTION SEEKING BEHAVIORS here’s a mini segmant. I believe he is like this because of things like he wants constant attention and focus on him. He has a generally loud presence and he doesn’t try and hide it. The reason he probably doesn’t mask is because 1. He really can’t, he’s too exhausted to try because at this point nothing helps, and 2. Because he wants attention. And sadly that means negative attention too. A mix of ADHD and constant dismissive and negative behavior to you makes for a FUN RIDE when people aren’t giving you attention. And that’s really unhealthy. This probably stems either from or into self-esteem and anxiety issues. And I don’t want to say it’s HIS FAMILY’S FAULT but he spent 15 (or 16?) in the sewers with ONLY HIS FAMILY. If he needs constant attention and reassurance (and is infantalized which I ALSO HATE) then it’s probably because he didn’t receive enough positive attention when he was younger. In fact people even phrase things like “Attention-Seeking Behavior as a Symptom of Psychological Distress” which considering the show was “angsty” or “dark” I’m surprised they didn’t look into. If the show really wanted to be interesting I think they should’ve kept Mikey as an important character and not just comedic relief.

[thorne93]

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 14)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2471

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy​​​​​, @carryonmyswansong​​​​​, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​ - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong​​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​​

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You got home, shutting the door behind you and Spence all but ran from the kitchen to greet you. 

“You’re home. I thought…”

“What? That I left? Nope. Suitcase is still here,” you lazily said, gesturing up the stairs. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry… I should’ve told you sooner, because you’re right, keeping this from you only made the secret stronger and that’s not right.” 

You pressed your lips together, letting him speak. Besides, you had nothing more to say at this point anyway. 

“When I get back to work, I’m going to tell Emily about our situation and that I don’t want to be paired up with her during cases.”

You crossed your arms.

“Y/N, please… Say something?”

You uncrossed your arms and held them out. “What do you want me to say, Spencer? I’m… Look, I’m hurting here. Do you have any idea how this looks? How this feels? She’s had years to tell you this, and she waits until I’m out of the state, out of the picture to do it. I’m not…” You heaved a sigh. “I’m pissed at her because this is just fucked up. She’s married, with kids, she’s had time to say something. But you… Spencer, now I’m worried that when I leave, something will happen between you two. I have no idea how you really feel. You kept this a secret. You didn’t tell her no right away. I feel like… like now I have to compete with someone for your attention, your affection, your love.”

“That’s preposterous. I love you. You don’t have to compete with anyone. JJ’s married, she’s a mother, I’m the godfather. That’s just--”

“And if she wasn’t? What then? If she wasn’t married, wasn’t a mother, would you be interested?” For a moment, you heaved a sigh, running your hands through your hair. 

“I--” Spence started, but you held your hand up to signal for him to stop. You really weren’t interested in his answer at that moment. 

“No. My point is, I’m suddenly feeling like I can’t trust you and that our marriage is shakey. I left for this job, feeling secure in our relationship. Now, when I leave I’m constantly going to worry that you two will just break vows to be together. If you didn’t have a crush on her years ago, it would be one thing, but I can’t help but wonder if you didn’t move on simply because JJ did. Maybe you never really did, and now it’s your chance to be with her.”

“Y/N... “ He stepped towards you and put his hands on your shoulders. “I love you, and no one but you, alright? I know I screwed up, I know I did. But I want to feel secure in knowing that because I told you, we still do have trust. If I was going to act on some secret feelings, I wouldn’t have told you about it.”

You nodded. “I know… It just took you too long to tell me, that’s what bothers me.”

“It took me so long because I tried to put it out of my mind.”

“I’m sure you did. I don’t doubt that, but it’s going to take me some time to really believe that you don’t feel anything back.” 

“I don’t and I’ll do whatever I can to prove it to you.”

“The case thing would help. I really don’t want you two alone to feed her fantasies or anything while you’re working. I know Emily will be discreet.” 

“Absolutely. So, you think you can forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you, it’s not about that. It’s about feeling like it’s safe for me to return to Miami. It is right? I don’t need to stay here and monitor the two of you?”

“No. I feel nothing but friendship for JJ.” 

“Good.” You nodded and he kissed your head.

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

Back down in Miami, it was two days after Spencer had told you about the confession. Things were still rocky between you two and frankly, you weren’t sure you still felt as close with Spencer as when you first went back home. This whole JJ thing had really gotten under your skin.

Because you knew he’d understand, you were standing outside Dexter’s door, after you settled in at your own apartment. You pounded your fist on the door. 

“Dex, open up, I need to talk,” you shouted. 

After a few seconds, you heard the lock coming undone and Dexter opened the door. 

“Hey, Y/N, kinda late. Could we do this tomorrow?” he asked. 

“Do you have company?” you asked.

“Well no, but--”

You pushed passed him and stood inside the entrance area.

“Yes, please, let yourself in,” he said, giving you his bitch face.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not like you where I can just take out all my frustrations with a kill. I need a friend, someone who knows everything about me.” 

“What’s going on?” he asked, he could tell something was off.

“I’ve got a coworker, JJ, apparently, about a month ago, when I went up there for my boss’s wedding, she told Spence she’s in love with him. And I’m ready to kill her.”

“Woah… Okay…” he remarked, nodding. “What did he say?”

“Well according to him, he didn’t say anything at first. He never told her he didn’t feel that way. He said it was just implied.”

“Yikes,” he commented. 

“Yeah, yikes is fucking right. I can’t fucking believe her. I mean we’ve worked together for years. I trusted her, I trusted him. Now I don’t know if I can even leave them alone on a case.”

“You really don’t trust your husband now? I mean, to that degree?” 

You sighed, groaning as you sat down on the couch, putting your face in your hands. 

“I don’t know. I mean, I’m worried. See they went on a date, years ago, like fifteen years ago, long before I was in the picture at all. I know Spence had a bit of a crush on her before the date and for a while after the date.”

“Oh…” Dexter said, knowing that changed things a little. 

“Yeah. And not to mention,” you said, shooting up from the couch, pacing, “she did this while I’m down here. They said it was from this manipulation game an unsub was playing but I just think it’s really fucking funny that she waited until now.”

“Timing does seem weird.”

“Right? And I’ve got half a mind to just fucking destroy her. My marriage was fine, happy, healthy before this. Now I’m questioning and rethinking everything that’s happened between me and Spence. All the recent stuff, all the memories before now. I mean, does he want her but he just thought she didn’t want him? Now that he knows she wants him, is he going to try and pursue it? I’m losing my mind over here.”

“I don’t think your husband would ever be unfaithful. He definitely wouldn’t have waited for his friend to tell him about her feelings if he did.”

You groaned. “You’re right. I know. I know this is crazy. Even if she thinks for some reason she has a chance with Spence, she’d have to leave her husband, her kids. I don’t know, I just can’t shake the worry. I mean, who does that?!” 

“I need you to breathe, okay? Getting pissed off isn’t going to help anyone, alright? We both know you can’t and won’t kill her so just, calm down. Talk.” 

You listened to his instructions, trying to focus on your breathing, which was hard. You were still reeling from this. 

��I just… How could she do this? How could he do it?”

“Did he reciprocate the feelings?” 

“No but… he didn’t exactly make it clear they weren’t returned.”

“That could just him being a guy. From what I’ve heard of your husband, he doesn’t exactly sound like he’s got all of his social skills in tact. Take it from me.” 

You shook your head. “Yes, but this… I mean shouldn’t it be obvious, to tell someone that isn’t your wife that you don’t love them?”

He looked at you with an apology in his eyes. 

You sighed as you sat down on his couch, leaning forward on your elbows. 

“How did you two meet?” he asked casually once he sat down on the other couch. 

“You know how we met. The BAU,” you retorted, anger in your voice. You weren’t in the mood for games or stupid fucking questions. 

“No, that’s where you met. What drew you to him? Why him? There are other men you’ve worked with, other men you met in college. So why was Spencer special?”

You peered at him with a chastising gaze. “I know what you’re doing,” you informed. 

“If you know what I’m doing, then you’ll be mature about this and answer the question.” 

At that, you heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. Spencer is… Well I’ve always been attracted to big brains, right? If a guy can out think, outwit, out know everyone else in the room, I’m already hooked. He already had his Ph.D at 23. While I wasn’t that impressive, it blew my socks off. We got to cases and he saw patterns no one even thought of. He helped this autistic child once, he finally figured out how he could communicate with us. It was… magnificent to watch him work. He often rambles and I find it adorable. The rest of the team seems to get annoyed by it, but I just soak it up. He spouts so many amazing, interesting facts. The first few times he did it, he got teased from Morgan and Prentiss...They teased him and walked off. He stopped talking, looking a little dejected. I still wanted to hear what he had to say so I said, ‘So? What’s the rest?’ He looked at me like I just gave him the world. He asked, ‘You really want to hear the rest of it? Most of the time I lose people by now.’ I just laughed and nodded and told him that most people are stupid.”

Dexter had a half smile on his face. 

“We’ve been through everything… I swear….  It was me who noticed he wasn’t feeling right when we first started working together. I didn’t know him terribly well, but I knew him well enough to know that he wasn’t on his A game. I helped him seek help for his problems. We faced the death of Emily, who was actually alive, but JJ and Hotch both made it seem very, very real. I’ve been with him while he struggles with not going back on Dilaudid.”

“He’s an addict?”

“Not by choice. An unsub gave him the drugs while he was kidnapped and he ended up hooked on them. He’s been clean for years, but when he starts to get too stressed…” 

“I can sympathize.” 

“I’m sure you can,” you noted, your tone loaded. “We’ve seen teammates die. I watched him go to prison, falsely. A psycho bitch set him up, he was in there for three months. How we survived apart, I will never know. They kidnapped his mother, they were going to kill her. God… I’d never seen Spence so upset. Hell, I’d never been so upset. He ended up strangling the woman who framed him.” You laughed. “God, that was so great to watch. She deserved far worse.” 

“Is that why you’re doing this?”

“Doing what? Getting mad? I’m getting mad because--”

He shook his head. “No, not that. Are you killing people because… because the people you chase have gone after your husband?”

“What? No. If that were the case, wouldn’t I be going after them? Not some sort of surrogate?”

“But what if they are a surrogate? You can’t kill them because it’d be suspicious and you don’t have it in you to do that. But killing other people that you feel do deserve death, it could be… therapeutic. Right?” 

You shook your head scoffing. “That’s just… No. That’s....” You looked at him, he was giving you an incredulous, challenging look. “No,” you said emphatically. 

“I’m not here to judge.” 

“But you are,” you corrected. “According to you, murder is inexcusable. So if I’m killing just to kill--”

“I don’t care what your reasons for killing are. As far as I’m concerned, your future victims are no better than mine. Yours kills innocent animals, mine kill innocent people. I can’t fault you for that.”

For a moment, you thought. “I don’t know. I’ll say all the shit that Spence has had done to him, doesn’t help me feel sympathy towards criminals, but it isn’t the sole reason.” 

Dex nodded. “I get it. Harry molded me to be what I am, I’m his tool. He couldn’t do it, but he saw that I could. His code told me there are bad people, and bad people get away. That’s where I come in.” 

Bobbing your head, you said, “And I’m still thankful that you do.” 

After a moment, he asked, “So what are you going to do? About this JJ mess?”

You sighed and fell back onto the couch. “Jesus, I have no idea.” 

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

“Hey, Spence, could we talk?” JJ asked as she approached him. 

“Um, sure? What’s up?” he wondered.

She pulled him aside, out into the hallway in a corner. “I can’t believe you told Will,” she said, anger clear in her voice. 

He wanted to correct her, before he thought better of it. You must’ve told Will, and he felt you had every right to. So he remained quiet. 

“He was so upset. It was the worst fight we’ve ever had. I thought you’d keep that between us.” She took a step closer and her eyes glanced around. 

“JJ, I don’t know what you think there is between us, but there’s nothing, alright? Will has a right to know.”

“Yeah, from me, no one else. I was going to tell him when I was ready.”

“Why does it matter when you’re ready? I’m married, you and I are just friends. So at this point, it’s just something one-sided for you to explain to him how you feel.”

“I’m married too, with kids, that doesn’t change how I feel. It’s not one-sided and you can’t convince me that it is.”

“Yes, it is,” he definitely said. “I don’t feel that way for you, JJ, at all.”

“You can stay in denial all you want, but I know the truth, Spence.” 

Garcia came down the hall just then with a wide smile on her face. “Hey friends! We’ve got a case!”

“We’ll be right in, Garcia,” Spencer promised.

“You know I’m right,” JJ said in a low tone before following Garcia to the conference room. 

He simply stood there, staring after her, annoyed and disgruntled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[themrswallace]

A meh (Bday tomorrow)

Tomorrow’s my birthday and while I dread the fact I have to wash my hair later in prep for the big day (Gonna have a lush bath cus we got soooo much in the online sales) something Beck said to me earlier has just, echoed in a weirdly factual and blunt manner.  “I’m sorry you don’t have mum and dad anymore” my reply to this was something around-- --“You mean mum who needed attention on her ALL THE TIME? Naw, glad the cunts dead, she and our pussy of a father”  Like, what got me with the echo was just how honest and plain my feelings were, and still are, toward my birthday being a ‘Meh’ event, as well as my dulling grief for our father and non existent grief for his wife.  My mother was your classic childhood trauma induced bi-polar/autistic who was as needy as she was controlling/narcissistic/pathetic, could easily be violent and then cry when you hit back because how dare you. Like after my autism confirmation we were all like “Oh yeah she had it, spazz, untreated with all that shit from her lot, obvious overloads on the reg, despite that, my ability to sympathize is....low. Incredibly low.  I get it, but at the same time, really don’t fucking care. Sorry boo-boo, my energy meter is on “Protect sister and bathe self once a month” and I’ve broken the stick thingy so like Coco, Forgotten land you go.  ---- It’s sad to imagine someone not missing either of their parents, and in my case, it’s sorta darker because she died when my ass was 11 and the second we knew she was sick, I was the family cheerleader for her upcoming yeet outta the living world, like a kid, lil 11 year old dumpling child, being cool, relieved their mother was dying of some unknown/un-diagnosed illness, Like you read about this shit and wonder how bad is the fam or just how fucked in the head is that child.  But thats where her behavior as a mother had me, and nowdays, I’m more done than angry with her memory.  No, the anger is more aimed at Dad who at first I missed hella bad when he died, but now, I’m like “You bitch ass, pussy. I laughed my way thru a scaffold pole busting up my arm, you couldn’t even stand up to a 5′5 gremlin!” (Why does my anger always sound like Lamar?)  That’s how it is now, I’m painfully (For everyone else) done/dry towards my mother, and just plain angry at my dad who now my ass kinda lowkey hates more than loves anymore because the older I get, the more the good memories get over-shadowed by his inability to emotionally protect his kids, or just protect his kids.  Like I remember my mum being a dick, me stomping on her foot (I was like 8?) and he had a go at me, even after she’d jumped on me and started slapping/getting hysterical. Like I was a lil kid, and while it killed the argument real quick agreeing with her, imagine that shit from my end, she started it, a grown woman, and my ass was getting grilled, and it was always like this, especially on birthdays, it was her feelings, her shit, mums day, like thanks dude, peace.  Like I’ve become more man, than my dad was.  Sure he worked all his life, provided, raised a family, but on the other hand, he lost his shit, he had a breakdown, was a dickhead, at times was straight-up bad as she was (Rarely) and emotionally, was the driest mother fucker.  In retrospect, he was human, wanted a quiet life, knew how to bring down a psycho bitch the only way he knew and just wanted to keep his mind busy because obviously, my dad was on the spectrum to, so as much as I wanna kick his ass, I get it, I can see why he did those things and gave in, but then, at the same time, I am allowed to be mad, and look at those fuck-ups and think how fucked it was, how much we had to deal with, how many birthdays I’ve lost and will lose the feeling for, because of them. Because she couldn’t cope, because he didn’t wanna tell her to get a fucking grip or just stand up and say “You’re being psychotic, fucking stop”.  Maybe it’s a life lesson or some weird plan, like “I parent you enough to come thru this trauma and learn not to be us”, but I’m hella mad, it’s my 26th birthday in a like so many hours, even in lockdown it should be something but my brain is naturally trained to let her have it.  Vowing now: My kids 26th won’t be like this. they’ll have chips, dip, all the prostitutes and all the alcohol as long ass they get drunk at home so I can make sure they’re okay. They deserve it. Even if I don’t 

[normal-thoughts-official]

Okay hi can i just pls throw out this idea i have in my head because i have literally zero friends to talk about malec with and i love your blog fhksghs but anyway i have this headcanon that alec is autistic because like, he's kind of stiff in his movements and he's straight to the point matter of fact but he's so very very empathetic and he feels so much and maybe he's been masking his entire life because his way of being is "Wrong" (and on top of that he gay) and people beside his siblings (1)

don't really get him and honestly the fact that he doesn't always find the words to express himself especially when he's scared and upset makes sense and maybe with the masking thing the only way of stimming he's ever allowed himself is that jerky lil hand shake thing he does or the pinching of the skin between his fingers. also!! im thinking that's why he's so good at archery and not AS good at hand to hand combat because archery doesn't take as much coordination and he noticed it was easy for him so he kind of hyperfixated on it as a kid and it never really left and it makes sense with the self harm thing. it's so common for autistic kids to take out their frustrations and sadness on themselves and if alec doesn't allow himself to stim that jittery energy might just turn into frustration and anger he doesn't understand or know what to do with so causing pain to get it out becomes the only way he knows how to cope. anyway THE POINT i'm trying to make is i've kind of adopted the headcanon that magnus has adhd as well so he kind of complements alec where he struggles and the other way around and as they get to know each other they kind of start finding new ways of coping together and allowing themselves to be exactly as they are with each other. alec finds ways to stop masking and starts to come to terms with who he is and what he's like because he's never really identified with anything but his masked persona and magnus finally has someone who understands him

also i get that like... this headcanon is not new at all. i just haven't seen it being discussed a lot just like magnus having adhd is something i came across like two days ago so idk how big that headcanon is but yeah snglbghk sorry for taking up so much space i guess im a lil fixated hehe thank you for your time

okay, first of all i just want to say that i’m thrilled that you wanted to share this with me, specifically, especially since this is clearly meaningful and important to you. and don’t apologize, i love getting ranty asks tbh, they are the best dajsaijdadja 

for the hc! i totally agree with you on autistic alec, that’s not an uncommon hc because yeah he does have like... a lot of autistic traits lmao (altho there’s a lot of hm. gross ableist content involving this. but anyway) like i’ve been talking recently on here about alec’s honesty and his complete unwillingness and even unability to understand like, mind games and flirting and such and how that draws magnus in, and i definitely think that is directly connected to his autism. like the whole throwing hints and innuendos and flirting ;) ;) just doesn’t fucking make sense to him and he’s very in contact with his feelings and why would he not? be direct about them? you know? and magnus has had to basically teach himself to be able to do that (because well autism and adhd overlap and he’s probably had to struggle a lot to pick on social cues too, and learn these little tricks. this also probably has to do with the personality that he chose for himself, like, that whole over exaggerated over the top kind of careless thing, because then he can pass off his rambley tendencies and other ADHD traits as just... him being careless, i guess. so he lays it particularly thick so that the parts that are actually there - his tendencies to ramble and hyperfocus, lack of attention, sometimes unawareness of social cues - end up less visible under the veil of his exaggerated persona) and it’s so damn good. and important. to not have to. to be basically forced not to. because alec doesn’t engage in those. he’s completely honest. and he offers magnus a space where he can be, too

and i just duahdsiuahda love autistic/adhd solidarity malec (and also autistic/adhd solidarity mag&raph but that’s another topic. lêx shut the fuck up about raphael challenge. actually send me asks about autistic raphael pls yall). especially because like i said. magnus has had a lot of time to learn how to mask his ADHD traits! but it’s exhausting, and god it feels so good and he’s so fucking happy that he gets to stim, and ramble, and just be himself with alec

even if it definitely takes him a while. i think longer than it takes alec. because alec 1- is not as good as magnus at hiding it, and 2- sees no reason to hide them from magnus, because once he trusts, he trusts, and he’s all in. i think what would take alec the longest would be to stim - because he’s so used to suppressing those it’s almost second nature - but stimming is exactly the one thing that magnus still kind of allows himself. especially with magic, you see the way he’s always conjuring up little balls, doing sparks with his hands, rubbing his fingers together, etc etc etc. and alec picks up on that, the ways that he stims subtly and without hurting himself and maybe starts doing it too. we even get to see him rubbing his fingers in a similar way that magnus does sometimes, after they meet, and i think that might be the beginning of that process

so that definitely applies to what you said about them helping each other out with their greatest difficulties! like magnus is most uncomfortable letting go of hiding his traits, and alec is most uncomfortable with stimming, and they slowly- well, not coax each other into it, but walk that path together, especially as they also walk their career paths and earn more respect and space, and their relationship path and learn to be more open and earnest with each other and work together. you know? magnus sees that alec keeps picking at his own skin and hands, and he’s like... all lovingly healing him, and telling him that he should stop hurting himself, and alec tells him that it’s just. that he feels like the world is so sharp, sometimes, and he just has all that energy, and he doesn’t know how to let it out, and it’s too much, but he doesn’t know what to do with it, so he just. picks at his skin. and magnus looks up at him, brows a little furrowed, a little in shock and also. a good kind of surprise because he understands? and he’s happy that someone else understands? and that he can help with this?

and so magnus is like “i feel like that a lot, too. having magic helps, but well, there are other things i do” and then he tells alec about how he rubs his fingers together instead of picking at the skin and how he taps them and does the little wrist shaking thing and how that helps. and alec starts to figure out other ways to stim that work for him and don’t hurt him. magnus also tells him about jewelry and how that helps, having stuff to fidget with/focus on, and well alec is not big on jewelry but maybe he starts wearing a chain under his shirt, and there’s always the wedding band :) which we already see him fiddling with a lot in canon anyway so i definitely think it serves the same purpose for him as magnus’ jewelry do magnus. plus, it’s grounding and reminds him of them, which is also a bonus

and then there’s also everything we see in canon, about alec just. wanting magnus to be exactly himself and telling him that? seeing the way magnus is tapping his foot and then stops when he approaches, and he’s like “you can keep going,” or the way that he sometimes approaches magnus and is all like “i can tell you’re thinking too hard about this conversation. i don’t want you to say anything but what you feel. it’s okay” and magnus slowly relaxes and allows himself. or when he catches himself mid rant about his hyperfixation and he feels ashamed but he turns to alec, about to apologize because he just started talking way too much and way too fast about fucking wormholes and astrophysics again and alec is probably bored- but he turns and alec is staring at him with his usual, open adoration that always takes his breath away, and alec is like “no, i love hearing you talk” because even if he doesn’t understand what magnus is talking about, he loves how excited he is and to see him happy. plus his voice is so nice and pretty and just hmmm very good for the senses you know, like it’s just nice to focus on. so magnus does that little half smile of his, super pleased, and keeps talking, except this time gesticulating even more wildly and like flapping and going into detail without holding back, and he’s just so happy, and alec is so happy, and so in love with him duaudsaa

also them being sensorial heaven for each other :) alec wanting to hold magnus after he’s had A Day, and he just wraps himself around him and buries his face on his neck and feels his presence there, you know, focuses on him and his touch and hair and nice clothes (magnus picks clothes pretty much based on texture because he can’t stand some, and others, like silk, are just perfect so he has a bunch of those, and alec likes the same textures too so that’s great) and stops focusing on other noises and light and other things that might be giving him a bit of overload, you know? but also he doesn’t feel like, trapped, so it’s great. while magnus is enveloped in his arms and having all that stimuli from alec touching him and again he can laser focus on that and feel like his brain calms down a little. and it’s perfect for them both. sensory healing cuddles. perfect

and when either of them feels like having their space or not touching because Too Much, that’s okay too, because they both 1- understand, and 2- are mindful of each other’s space always. magnus especially, we see how he’s very careful with getting into other ppl’s and particularly alec’s space, and alec appreciates it because he never feels invaded. but he also learns when magnus needs space, be it alone or just a broad space to Flap Around in, and he always gives him that when he needs it, and magnus is so grateful for that. and it’s just duaihdsiahdasidaihahdah god i fucking love adhd/autistic solidarity malec thank u for coming to my ted talk

[pennemac]

walk through fire for you (just let me adore you)

Chapter 1 ▪︎Even At 3am

Series Summary- This is my first attempt at writing with criminal minds characters! The show has recently become one of my favorite things to write and ramble about. This is a series of works that are written around an autistic Spencer Reid, and his journey's of finding comfort and joy within his team.

Chapter Summary- Spencer finally reaches out when he's struggling with a bout of sensory overload. It takes a whole lot of courage on his part and a good dose of platonic love from his boss to calm him down. (ft. Spencer's stuffed axolotl)

Warnings/Topics- Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Talk of sensory issues, Crying, The beginnings of a panic attack, Platonic cuddling, A good dose of Hotch being a dad through and through :)

I post these on ao3 first! my ao3 is here

Word Count- 1.9k

There's a light pattering of the beginning of a storm outside of the hotel room window, and Spencer is so tired. He has been, in fact, for the last two days, 16 hours, and 43 minutes. 

If Spencer was any semblance of normal, he thinks, he would probably be soothed by the little sounds of rain, but he's not. In fact, it's angering him. It's a constant white noise sound, like television static, but worse, because it can't just be turned off by the click of a button. He isn't even entirely sure why it's making him as mad as it is. 

The sound itself is even making him acutely aware of the way unfamiliar sheets feel against his legs, and the way his hair won't stay out of his face. It's alot, honestly. With every second that passes, the rain makes him more and more upset. None of his usual tactics of calming down have worked so far, either. 

He hasn't been able to read, because his brain felt like it was being drowned out by the sounds of rain against various outdoor surfaces. Music, though he'd never been a huge fan of anything other than soft piano, had also felt as though it was simply accompanying the rain, assisting it in it's attempt to make him breakdown. 

It starts out like this, usually. The discomfort, leading into being easily aggravated, but from then it's everything setting him off. Rain, the constant chatter of a room filled with busy police officers, the ticking of a clock, the texture of his pants, or sheets, or any unfamiliarity. 

He's been trying to sleep for days, but he hasn't been able to. To combat this, he'd been consuming copious amounts of coffee. This had made him more twitchy, antsy, than he had been before. His hands now, even, shake as he throws the blankets and sheets off of his legs. 

The frustration reaches it's peak though, when he has to struggle to pull his socks off of his feet, and tears fall from his eyes as he leans back onto the bed. As he tries his best to just breathe, he remembers how Hotch had separated him from the rest of their team, pulling him aside and out of the crowded room, as if he'd had an innate sense that he hadn't been doing well. 

"Do you need to leave, Reid? I won't make you stay here if it's not going to be beneficial for others or for yourself." 

He hadn't managed to give a complete answer, just nodding, hands curling into his pant legs. "Go with Morgan to the mortuary. I was going to send him alone but the quiet of a car will do you good." 

His boss had moved to lay a hand onto his shoulder, deciding not to when Spencer had visibly flinched. "I am completely serious when I say that you have to stop over exerting yourself. It does nobody any good when you render yourself useless to others." 

Spencer had frowned, not exactly happy with being reprimanded, but he knew that Aaron was certainly correct. 

"Beyond that, though, I understand. I made an agreement when I hired you into this team that I'd be here when you need me. You have to reach out to someone when it's necessary." 

So now, as he sits in the dark of his room, he does his best to remind himself that it's okay to reach out when he needs someone. His hands are shaky as he finds his bosses contact and presses call before he can over think it. 

It's answered fairly quickly. "Reid? What's going on?" 

"I'm- it's not anything serious I'm just… I think I'm gonna have a panic attack and I haven't slept for nearly three days, I don't know how to stop it." 

He knows how weak his voice sounds, and he hates it. His hands clench and unclench in his bedsheets. Tears continue to slip down his face and his shoulders and neck feel tense. 

He hears a the rustling of sheets on the other side of the call before he gets a response. "Can you come up here? You know my room number, yes?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." 

"Okay, come up to my room, then. You're gonna be okay." 

He nods, only realizing afterwards that Hotch couldn't actually see it. He tosses his own phone into the open duffle bag by the foot of his bed. The room he's in is uncomfortably dark, and he hesitates for a moment before he moves to reach into the black bag, pulling out a small-ish stuffed axolotl. 

It's soft, and the eyes are embroidered, rather than buttons or beads, so they feel nice for his hands to run over. The texture is soft but smooth, and he's grateful that it's that rather than shaggy or rough. 

When he's made it up onto the third floor, rather than the second, where his room was, his embarrassment levels had risen and by the time he'd made it up to the door, he heavily considered turning back. 

Spencer's grateful when he only has to knock once for the door to open. 

Hotch stands in the doorway, and this is probably the only time that Spencer would ever see him in just sweatpants and a soft shirt. 

He moves out of the way once he realizes who it is, letting him walk into the room. 

His boss moves in front of him, to sit on the large bed in the middle of the dimly lit space. 

"What animal is that?" He points vaguely at the pink stuffed animal clutched in shaky hands. 

Spencer stands awkwardly across from the bed, his hands fiddling gently with the eyes and the tail of the toy. "It's, uhm… an axolotl. Penelope got it for me cause she knows textures I like and don't like." 

Hotch gently sits back to make room for him. He pats the empty space, hoping that Spencer will take the invitation to sit. He does, watching his own hands as if avoiding looking up at his coworker. 

"Do you wanna talk about what's been happening? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, but it can be a good distraction." 

He nods slowly, tucking his legs in to sit cross legged. "I- the rain. It's like… t.v. static. I haven't been able to sleep because the sheets are so unfamiliar…" 

One hand moves up to hardly brush a tear from his cheek. God, he hates this. Vulnerability doesn't come easy to him, it never has. He knows how tight his breathing is, and that realistically he should start breathing deeper to ensure that he doesn't become light headed but- it's a lot easier to say than to do. 

"Can I touch your hands, Spencer?" 

The man in question gives an affirmative nod and watches as hands slightly larger than his own come into his line of vision, wrapping around one hand that isn't wrapped around the body of a stuffed animal.

"I know it's tough, but can you breath for me? Just a few deep breaths?" 

Fingers flex between Aaron's own, squeezing in what he's fairly certain is an effort to ground himself. 

Tears drop down steadily still, and one lands softly on the back of Hotch's hand. 

A thumb circles slowly in the dip of where Spencer's hand meets his wrist. "I do hate to seem any kind of strict right now, but… Spencer, I know how hard it is to tell us when you start struggling. What I need you to know though, is that when Gideon agreed to have you on this team, and when I made the decision to keep you here, we knew exactly what we were doing." 

A small sob comes from Spencer, and it deepens Aaron's own frown. 

"You are an incredible asset to our team. You are the driving force to solving most cases we come across. There's nothing you could do, or show, or say, to us that would make us value or love you any less. If that means this, or telling us you need a break, or letting through more tendencies or quirks when we're working- all of that is good. You do so good, I jus-" 

He's cut off abruptly when his hands are shaken away and Spencer all but tackles him into a hug, arms wrapping around his neck and face pressing into his shoulder. 

"And here I thought you were always so worried about germs." 

Spencer sobs lightly, tears dampening the material under his face. His legs rest on the outside of Aaron's thighs, his weight settled on his legs. The man below him tentatively brings hands around his back to envelope him in a hug, hands rubbing down to ease the tension where he can. 

"It's- it's so much." 

And this, at least, Aaron can understand. His breathing doesn't even out more than it had, and Aaron would be much more worried if he didn't know that at least in some sense, this would tire him out. So, instead of urging him to calm down as he'd mistakenly done before, when he was less aware of Spencer's diagnosis, he takes a different route. 

"Spencer, name 3 things you can feel." 

Light sniffles come and shaky breaths still echo in his right ear, but he moves to where his mouth won't be muffled. 

"That method of- of calming people down is something they use on kids-" 

"Three things, Reid." 

He huffs a little bit, but obeys. "Your hands." He shifts where he sits. "The- uhm, the bedsheets under my knees." 

One hand goes up to his face, pulling strands of hair back to tuck it behind his ear. "My face is really warm." 

Even though Spencer was right, the method of describing different sensory inputs was something people use on children, it was working well enough for him that Aaron wasn't going to stop using it. 

"Three things you can see?" 

He lifts his head from the shoulder it had been resting on, eyes moving around the room. He looks down slightly. "My hands are shaking." A glance to the left, afterwards, "My stuffed animal is to your left." 

"And your lamp is on, but it's… dim." 

His voice is soft, and it makes him seem small. He feels small too, body trembling under Aaron's hands. 

"Can you smell anything?" 

Spencer moves his head in a gesture of affirmation. "Your cologne." He pauses to pull in a deep breath. "Cleaning products, several." 

He's breathing is beginning to fade into a normal pace, and there's less shake to his voice. 

"Taste?" 

"Mint… my uh, my toothpaste. Coffee." 

Strong hands move up to his shoulders and neck, massaging lightly into the skin there. 

"Hm. What about sounds?" 

There's a silence in the room now. Spencer sits up slightly with realization. "The rain. It's not raining anymore." 

"Mhm. Maybe the universe listened to you, for once." 

He nods softly. 

They sit like this for a moment, Spencer relaxing into the pressure of Aaron's hands, his tears slowly to a stop. 

"Can I… Stay in here? I don't think I'll be able to sleep alone." 

Hotch gives a single nod, and it would have seemed curt, but his face is soft. "Of course." 

Spencer moves slowly off of him, fumbling for the pink toy before he lays down completely. 

Hotch moves to do the same, but notes briefly the distance that had been put between them. "You can come back over here, y'know." 

A tense breath was released and it brings a small smile onto the older mans face as he feels Spencer wiggle back up to his side, one arm laying over his stomach and a head resting against his chest. He takes the opportunity to wrap arm back around slender shoulders, only after lightly brushing stay strands of hair behind Spencer's ear.

"Goodnight, kid." 

"Night Hotch."

[incomprehensiblelentils]

@swiftjolras tagged me in this fic writer meme, thanks buddy! Also because B and I do a lot of cowriting, I’m going to try to stick to the ones that only I have written for this meme. I guess if somebody wants I can do one about our cowritten stuff separately...? but I feel like this is a fair restriction.

Name: Megan

Fandoms: I mean. Do you want my like, current fandoms I write for or all the fandoms I’ve written for EVER? Actually the latter might be fun let’s do that! I think of my fanfic writing life as having 3 phases: the stuff I wrote when I was a little kid and didn’t know what fanfic was (Winnie the Pooh, Aladdin); the stuff I wrote as a middle/high schooler on ff.net (Cyberchase, The Princess Diaries, The Incredibles, LOTR, X-Men, Pirates of the Caribbean); and the stuff I’ve posted on AO3 in college and beyond (Doctor Who, Dollhouse, Alphas, RPF*, MCU - particularly Agents of SHIELD and Daredevil, Firefly, Once Upon a Time, Kingsman, Wreck-it-Ralph, Terminator: Dark Fate). I actually used to be a BNF in Incredibles fandom, which is hilarious in retrospect as my fic was very bad BUT it was an incredible ego boost for a fourteen-year-old who loved writing! At the moment I mostly write for SHIELD and Dark Fate, with detours into other random gay shit as I feel like it.

*cancel me for my T-rated stories from 2013 I DARE YOU

Where You Post: my AO3 is here and I have a writing blog here that I link stuff from although I’m bad at updating it lol

Most Popular One-Shot: According to hits, by a hair it’s you are the ditch I tumbled into running blind, the first Skimmons fic I ever wrote AND the first Skimmons fic posted on AO3. Although my high school AU has a couple hundred more kudos. They are both 7 years old! That’s wild.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: Again, taking out mallverse which is cowritten and would be the obvious winner at over 40k hits over 6 years, it’s and for once you let go of your fears and your ghosts, which is my Victoria/Isabelle fix-it. It has over 800 hits and 47 kudos, which for a femslash ship in this fandom that isn’t popular at all is pretty damn good! (I wish it was my Kara fix-it, but what can you do when fandom is bad lol.)

Favorite Story You’ve Written: I talk about say you will, the Endgame Natasha/Laura fix-it, a lot, because it took me months to write and was born out of not only my hatred of Endgame but years of pent-up anger and frustration at how Natasha is treated in both canon and fandom. It’s probably my most personal fic - I wrote it as both a redemptive tribute for this character that I’ve loved for almost a decade and a goodbye to her. I got to fill in the blanks of Laura’s character that canon didn’t bother to address, and I made all three Barton kids autistic and gave them all traits that I and my brother and my friends have. I also had to write a lot of very uncomfortable emotions that I haven’t really dealt with in my writing too much and that was interesting and challenging. I know it won’t ever get the attention I’d like it to, but I still love it so much.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: lol all the Terminator porn, I’m not linking it again, y’all can find it, porn is scary bye

How You Choose Your Titles: I am shameless and steal lyrics. Terminator fics all have Carly Rae Jepsen lyrics, I also use TSwift and Marian Call a lot.

Complete: 50 exactly! And a couple dozen more I cowrote with B as well (mostly one-shots).

Incomplete: 5, at least one of which I should really go back and mark complete just because it’s a billion years old and I’ll probably never go back to it lol. But Three Lawyers and a Little Lady will definitely get updated someday because I love my Daredevil Accidental Baby Acquisition AU! And I have a shitton ongoing that B and I are working on together as well.

Do You Outline: Not usually for one-shots, but like, I ran into a real problem with say you will where I kept thinking of scenes that needed to be added and having to write them, and there were a couple of scenes that I had to sort of Frankenstein in because I’d written them early on and I wanted to include them real bad but they didn’t “technically” fit anywhere (I wonder if readers can tell lol). So I try to outline for long-running stuff because if I don’t it just goes extremely off the rails.

Coming Soon / Not Yet Started: I am in the middle of two right now: a Star Wars Jannah/Rose horse girls fic where they bond while riding orbaks and also kiss, and Halt and Catch Fire Donna/Cameron where Donna drags Cam to a PFLAG meeting to try and figure out how to talk to her lesbian daughter and everyone thinks they’re a couple (spoiler: they don’t know they are yet). These are the random gay shit detours I mentioned earlier. More on brand, I have at least one more Terminator porn in my brain and also a fluffy one where Grace proposes to Dani and Carl officiates their wedding. OH I FORGOT i was supposed to write a Charlie’s Angels 2019 fic where Sabina brought home a dog and the other two were like ????. I feel like that one will be pretty easily once I just sit down and do it because their voices seem pretty straightforward

Do You Accept Prompts: Um, I’m not like...I don’t want to say I’ll never do prompts, I once wrote Steve/Bucky as quarterback/cheerleader AU because my friend asked me to. But I don’t typically solicit them. The shit I like writing is usually way too random for people to think of lol.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: This is a someday-fic, but I swear I will write an epic redemption story for my beloved monster child Ruby Hale where she lives and becomes the Zuko of the group and also Daisy’s weird little protege and she and Elena are never like, close, and Elena doesn’t have to forgive her, and that’s okay. I just feel like they set her up as a perfect Ward foil and then really dropped the ball.

tagging uhhhh @unwind-myself @swashbucklery @amidalleia @allofthefeelings I forget which of my friends write fanfic anymore lololol if I tag you in this and you don’t VERY SORRY MY BAD also like, if you want to do this and pretend I tagged you please do!

[composereggwrites]

Love will not break your Heart (but dismiss your Fears)

Chapter 1: Plant Your Hope with Good Seeds

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Alice “Daisy” Tonner/Basira Hussain, Gerard Keay, Gertrude Robinson

Additional: Reincarnation AU, Soul Bond, Team as Family, Autistic Jon, Post-Canon Fix-it, Childhood Friends, Hurt/Comfort

They stand in the Panopticon, fire raining down from the sky, as the Eye stares down at them.

Jon takes Martin’s hand in his.

Jonathan Barker-King wakes up and goes to class. He works under Gertrude’s rule at the university archives, and subs in when his coworkers at the library, Sasha and Tim, are out sick.

It’s on one such day that he reconnects with his old childhood friend. The one he hasn’t seen in 11 years, ever since their houses burned down. Martin Hussain-Tonner.

An Undone-Apocalypse reincarnation AU.

Ao3 or Below!

Jonathan Sims Barker-King sits at the checkout desk of Oxford University, and curses the flu for taking out both Tim and Sasha in the same week. Abandoning him to cover their shifts, when he should be down in the archives today, learning the ropes from Gertrude.

It’s not a hard job. Arguably, working in the archives is harder. But it’s also midterms season, and that means dealing with an influx of students who’ve realized they need to actually study, and he’s running this place short-staffed.

There’s a lull around 4:30pm, and he breathes a sigh of relief as it hits. The 4pm rush is typically the last of the day. No more beeping of the scanner, no more arguing with patrons about the fines they’ve accrued, and no more dealing with the incompetent people who don’t even know how to use a basic search function.

Maybe now he can work on his own homework. He’s got two essays and a test to study for, after all.

Just as he’s settling into the flow, typing the words into the document at a decent pace, someone approaches the desk once again.

“What do you need?” he snaps, most of the sharp edge tempered down with years of practice, before looking up.

The person who stands before him is easily 6’5, with wavy ginger hair, round glasses, and is absolutely built like a bear. But more importantly–

“Jon? Is that you?” he asks, grin on his face and light dancing in his eyes.

Jon laughs, still staring. “Y–Yeah. Holy–” he bites his tongue, no swearing on the job. “Martin? When the hell did you get so tall?”

Martin Blackwood Hussain-Tonner rubs the back of his head, laughing too. “Oh, you know. Hit a couple growth-spurts as a teen. Fifteen, sixteen, really shot up like a tree. What about you though? You’re so…”

“It’s alright, you can say small,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Unlike some people, I didn’t get height genes from my mysterious spawners. Mum still delights in being able to pick me up.”

“Oh I’m sure. She was absolutely fearless, wasn’t she?” Martin asks, and Jon nods.

“It’s almost terrifying at times. I mean, I’m 23, and she comes swooping in and carrying me around like it’s nothing.” His brain presents him with a mental image of Martin doing this, like he is now, and then he shoves that thought into a dark, locked box. Nope, not doing that.

Jon almost keeps talking, but some of the students with books piled higher than their heads are starting to glare, so he sighs. “I’m still on shift for another hour, but we should catch up, yeah? It’s been ages.”

Martin nods. “Sure! There’s a nice cafe on campus that we could go to, not too far from here, and I’m free tonight.”

He smiles. “I think I know the one. Sounds good to me. Meet you there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

___

It takes three years to find them.

Daisy and Basira chose to look for Martin, while Georgie and Melanie search for Jon. Because these foolish boys decided to stop the apocalypse together, and die together.

They’d left a tape behind, of course. Static layered over the words.

“We’re going to do something. If you’re hearing this, I’m going to assume it worked,” Jon had said. “We’re undoing the apocalypse. Both Martin and I.”

“The thing is,” Martin said, false-confidence in his bold voice, only a hint of a waver, “We’re not making it out of this… Well, not alive. Not how we are now, at least. But it’s okay! We’ll be coming back.”

Then Jon again, slipping into a neutral voice, steady as he explains. “Time is going to get a bit weirder than normal, and this is going to open the door for a lot of people to get second chances. Anyone touched by an Entity who stays alive will still remember everything that happened, but for the rest of the world… It’ll be like a mass hallucination.”

“You don’t need to find us,” Martin murmurs, softer now. “But… You can if you want. Jon doesn’t think we’ll remember anything. Definitely not at first, maybe not ever. We’re just going to be little kids, after all.”

“Take care of yourselves, alright? Georgie. Melanie. Daisy. Basira. This is a chance for freedom for all of you, too. We’re burning that wretched institute to the ground, with Jonah inside of it, and getting out.” Jon sighs, a hint of compassion leaking into his voice. Such a struggle for The Archivist to feel anything, and yet he feels more than ever, nowadays.

“Be safe, all of you. Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

After a bit of debate, Melanie had scoffed and said, “Obviously we’re gonna find those idiots. If we don’t, then Jude’ll hunt them down and burn them or somethin’. Might as well make sure that don’t happen.”

Easier said than done, of course. Daisy had managed to track down Martin a couple months ago, using some of the Hunt, before diving into a few rounds of Halo to shake the rest of the energy off. (That had been Basira’s idea, what better way to channel the Hunt than through violent video-games?)

Stepping into this orphanage, at first Georgie thinks it’ll be no different. It’s not a bad place, pristine and clean, but there’s no soul. Just another cluster of kids, too alone and small, who need homes that they can’t give.

Until she spots a child with too-big too-familiar eyes staring at them.

When they make eye-contact, the kid stands, and stumbles closer. She kneels down, and this child states, matter-of-fact, “You’re looking for me.”

“Oh, are we now?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name, then?”

“Jonathan. They don’t call me that, they call me a girly name. But I’m Jon.” There’s a hard edge, determination, as if prepared for anything but acceptance.

“Of course you’re Jon,” Melanie says, careful to kneel, careful as she reaches out. It takes a moment, but she finds his hair, and ruffles it. Tenderness wiping away the gleam of fear in his eyes. “Why do you think we’re looking for you?”

He leans closer. “I just know. I know things. I’m very smart!” he says, with what’s almost a proud grin.

She laughs, and leans close to Melanie, so she can whisper, “Mels, he’s so small!”

Melanie, predictably, laughs at her, and keeps talking to Jon. “Well, you certainly seem very smart. And you’re right, we have been searching just for you. It might take a bit before you’re able to come home with us, but I think you’re just the one we’ve been looking for, Jon.”

So they sit there, and talk with Jon. Playing games and reading stories with him. It’s not long before he gets tired, and crawls into Georgie’s lap, tuckered out.

She leans against Melanie’s shoulder, as they both relax.

“He’s such a child,” Melanie says, voice low.

“He really is. But I mean, we expected that, yeah? He’s three, if anything, he seems smarter than the average three-year-old.” Georgie says back, still carding her fingers through Jon’s hair. She had thought it’d be weird, seeing her ex-boyfriend/old friend as a child, and it was, a little. But he was so endearing. A little kid, free from the stress he’d been carrying.

“You don’t think…”

She shrugs. “He might be, I don’t know how all that super works. But from the way he was speaking on the tape, I doubt it. Maybe it’s just… After-effects?” Either way, she’s prepared to raise a weird kid. Had been ever since she and Melanie realized they might have a future together (because there’s no way they were going to be raising someone normal).

“I hope that’s all it is.”

Some of the other kids have been watching them. Georgie’s noticed this. Watching as they play, as they hang out with Jon. Maybe it’s just jealousy, maybe it’s not. It makes her hold him closer. Protective anger like acid on her tongue, ready to burn if they try to hurt her boy.

One of them walks closer now, and narrows his eyes at them. He looks to be older, maybe eight or so. “Why would you choose him? He’s weird.”

Melanie scoffs, and Georgie takes her hand, to keep her from fighting an eight-year-old. “Maybe we like him because he’s weird. A better question is why you want to be mean to a three year old, kid.”

“Listen. You don’t have to like him, but we do,” Georgie says, glancing up at him. Skinny, fists clenched and shaking. Scared because every time someone else gets out, he must stay. “Just… Don’t be mad at him, because he’s going to leave and you aren’t. Maybe someone else will like you the way we like him, some day. Being mean to him isn’t going to make that happen sooner.”

It’s a long process, of course. Adoption is complicated. But they manage to pass the inspection, and bring him home. Home to a newly-bought house with three bedrooms, right next door to Daisy, Basira, and Martin.

The look on Jon’s face when he sees his own room, with a ceiling-high bookshelf stocked to the brim, and toys aplenty, is one Georgie will treasure forever.

(She’s made sure that there weren’t any Leitners.)

___  

Martin sits at the cafe, fingers tapping against his leg, grin on his face. The setting sun is shining in from the window to his right, and the soft scent of coffee fills the air.

He’d just seen Jon.

It had been eleven years, and Jon had remembered him.

He sips at his tea as he waits, anxious nerves swelling in his stomach. Which was ridiculous, because this is Jon. They’d been friends ever since Jon had moved in with his moms. Three year olds sitting together and playing with Legos. Jon reading books to him all the time. Going on adventures through their backyards.

They’d both had to move when they were twelve, though, and, in the chaos, had lost contact with each other. Martin hadn’t stopped missing him, even as lonely fog rolled in.

His moms did their best. But it was hard to make friends at school, when his anchor wasn’t there at his side. Cast adrift in a sea of unknown people.

(The pride club in high school helped a lot, but he still felt out of place. Alone even as he had friends to laugh and chat with, even as he started figuring out who he really was).

With his pencil to the paper in front of him, he tries to focus on some of his homework, and not think about Jon.

He ends up with lines of poetry written in the margins of his textbook instead.

When the bell to the cafe rings, he perks up, and grins as Jon walks in. He gives a wave, and Jon smiles and waves back. Once he’s retrieved his own drink, he walks to the table.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself,” Martin replies.

Silence settles around them, and suddenly it dawns on Martin that he has no idea what to say to someone he hasn’t seen in over a decade. Sure, they’d been friends, but that doesn’t mean their interests are the same.

“So… What’s your major?” Jon asks, and Martin lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’m studying literature right now, actually! All the classics, poetry, you know. I’m considering a few different options, but I figured I might as well study what I’m interested in while I ponder career choices.” He could ramble for hours about some of the things he’s studying, but not right now. “What about you?”

Jon leans back in his chair, and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m actually in a grad program right now. Working on a degree in information sciences with a focus on archival work. I double-majored in the History and English course, along with parapsychology.”

“Parapsychology? That’s the study of weird stuff, yeah? Paranormal events?” Martin asks, leaning forward.

Jon nods, and some of the awkward air slides away. “ESP, ghosts, near-death experiences, and reincarnation. All that fun stuff. It’s really interesting, actually. I did a lot of research on the apocalypse, the one that didn’t happen?” He waits for Martin to nod, before continuing.

“There’s bunches about it. Stories are still being collected. Everyone’s got something to say. I mean, an entire year’s worth of memories? Of events that didn’t happen? I don’t know why more people aren’t fascinated by this!” His hands dance through the air, punctuating his sentences with a flourish. Poetry in motion.

Martin smiles, watching Jon as he starts to ramble, sipping his tea. Jon has always been so full of words and energy, if given some encouragement. Infodumping about whatever has caught his interest now. It used to be books and stories, regaling Martin with the plot.

“I’m not in statement collection, of course,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t really get to manage those, though I do read them sometimes. Wrote a paper about all the different ways to classify some of the weirder aspects, because events seem to fall into certain categories.”

“That’s really cool! It sounds like you’ve done a lot of research into it, and I’d love to hear more later. You could send me your paper, if you want?” He asks, a tingle running up his spine at the idea of being able to contact Jon whenever.

“O-oh, sure! What’s your email? Or phone number? We should exchange those, yeah?” Jon starts taking out his phone, and Martin does too.

“Sounds like a plan. I’d like to stay in contact this time,” he says with a snort. “No more disappearing for eleven years on me, mister.”

“It’s hardly my fault both our parents decided to move at the same time,” Jon mutters, mock-offended as he plugs his number into Martin’s phone.

“I know. I’m more annoyed that our moms didn’t help us keep in contact. It’s weird, I swear they kept in contact, but I guess I didn’t think to try and get your number, and I know we pretty much ended up on opposite sides of the country.” He shrugs, handing Jon’s phone to him and taking his own back.

He smiles when the text of ^Hello, this is Jon.^ comes through.

“I asked mom once. She told me no. Said it’d be hard, or that it was complicated for some reason. I let the matter drop.” Jon fidgets with one of the napkins, folding and refolding it.

“Maybe I’ll ask my mum about it sometime,” Martin says. “Mom is still kinda busy.”

“She’s still a professional gamer, yeah? I’ve kept up with Miss Daisy’s career.” Jon laughs. “It’s still great watching a fifty? Sixty? Year old lady destroying all the other competitors.”

He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, she’s sixty four now, and still absolutely crushing them. She’s brutal. She’s told me some stories from when she and mum were police, and I gotta say, I think I prefer the gaming.”

“I’ll have to get these stories out of you sometime, I’d be very interested in hearing them.” A grin lights up Jon’s face, and Martin has no doubt that he’ll be able to pull those stories out of Daisy and Basira.

“I’m sure they’d both love to regale you with them.”

All the tension of the room has eased now, as they laugh and joke. Falling back into old patterns so easily. Martin hadn’t been aware of how much he’d missed this until he had it back. Years of withdrawal making it easier to adapt to the empty ache in his chest when Jon wasn’t by his side. Like he didn’t know he’d been living without oxygen, until he could breathe again.

But now Jon’s here. For the first time since he was twelve, his lungs work, and the pain is gone. Gone somewhere, a burden lifted from him.

Maybe he’ll be able to keep it at bay, and keep Jon close, in the coming years.

___

Gertrude Robinson sits in her office, looking over the edge of her computer at the boy who has just walked in. Glasses sit sharp on her face, as she scans him.

Still in his goth phase, with black on black on black, dyed hair, and tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. Oh-so-familiar, but she doesn’t know if her face is familiar to him yet.

“Can I help you?” she asks, steady and ungiving of an inch.

Gerard stares back at her. No doubt about it then. She’d changed her last name back to what it should properly be, as a signal, just for this. It’d be nice, maybe, to be a woman not so alone with her memories.

“Gertrude?” He raises an eyebrow at her, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t play dumb with me. Your crotchety old grandma trick doesn’t work as well when you’re barely over thirty.”

She laughs, and leans back. “You’ve caught on then, I see. Good ole’ Gerard Keay.”

“Gerry Delano. I’m not using her last name,” he bites out. “Tell me, what have you been up to here?”

“Oh, this and that. Not much to do in the way of battling the Fears, these days. I hear your friend Jon took care of that for me.” She’d listened to the tapes. Found them hidden away in the ruins of the Institute. The rise and fall of the apocalypse, and Jonah being such a fool. As if he really thought Jonathan Sims wouldn’t find a way to undo the hellscape. The mark of the Lonely was brilliant, but it gave him the key to becoming a savior, not confined to be an Archive.

“They’re still out there, though,” Gerry replies.

She gestures for him to take a seat across from her, and he does. Less stubborn, this life. “Yes, I know. Don’t think I’m unaware of their movements. I’ve been keeping a close eye on the remaining Avatars. I’m not a fool. Jude is still on the move, looking for those two. Mike Crew is still throwing people off buildings–in France, right now I believe. But they’re all weak. Low on power and morals, and there’s not going to be another ritual–not in my lifetime.”

With a shrug, he seems to relent. “I guess. Are you really content, then? To just sit here and work as an–an actual head archivist? For an actual, not-spooky institution?” His words are clipped, not harsh, but pointed.

“Don’t you think I’ve quite earned my rest?” she fires back. “I’m not caught in the Beholding this life, and I’m not involved. Not yet, at least.  Perhaps if the Web decides I need to be pulled back in, I will, but not now.” The Mother of Puppets is not one she can predict, but dancing to its strings is hard to resist. “Besides, it’s not like all my work here is boring. We’re still working on collecting statements from the apocalypse and filing them away.”

“The thing most people still think was a mass hallucination?” He laughs, and steals one of her pens to fiddle with. She’ll let him keep it. This is better than him using her desk as a footrest.

“Everyone wants to tell their story, and it allows me to travel around as much as I like to collect them. It’ll be a whole genre, I expect. A thousand years from now, and everyone will have their favorite stories. There will be fiction invented about it. Maybe some will even get it right.” She smiles, that smile of hers which he’s called bland but terrifying. Equal disinterest in everything, but with her own plot at play. It’s fitting, in a way.

“Well, you have fun with that. I’ll be keeping a lookout for trouble, and I’ll let you know if I see any. But I’m not here to help you with this,” he says, equally blasé.

“No, you’re here because you’ve said you can get Mr. Jonathan Barker-King, your roommate, an in to the archives here. Because you know me. You placed a lot of stakes on the fact that I remembered, didn’t you?” She chuckles. “You were right, for what it’s worth, but that was quite the gamble.”

“Well, if anyone were to remember, it’d be you, Gertrude.” Gerard shrugs, and she has to concede that he makes a point. “You’ll let him have the job, then?”

“Of course. Tell your friend that if he submits and application, he’ll likely get in. It’d be nice to have someone else around with an Eye for the finer details. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

Gertrude turns her attention back to the files on her desk, and expects Gerard to show himself out soon.

He lingers at the door, but says nothing more.

[windofderange]

Okay, buckle up, kids, cuz I'm about to have some*feelings*.

So I've been struggling a lot in the last year with the realization that I maybe have autism and maybe haven't been correctly diagnosed in the last thirty+ years of my life despite having some very textbook characteristics. I still don't have a diagnosis and I'm not sure I ever will - at my age, it's more likely to cause me harm (like being denied an organ transplant if I need one, which might come up because I'm also diabetic).

At first, it made me feel really broken, like the things that I struggled with were permanent. That I couldn't be fixed. I've spent years in therapy trying to reduce my inner critic and manage what I thought were panic attacks, and it's never been very successful. I made a little progress, but not very much. And the realization that I might be autistic made it feel like I was stuck living with the things that made my life harder forever.

But the more I learned, the more I talked to my family about it, the more I reframed what was happening to me as symptoms of my brain doing its best, the more I've been able to help myself. Knowing that when I freak out and lose control of my emotions, it's not a panic attack, it's tantruming has been a revelation. My brain needs to rest and reset. Knowing I'll actually feel better when I come out in the other side makes the whole experience so much less scary. Feeling safe to ask my spouse if what someone said was genuine or sarcastic or passive aggressive instead of just constantly worrying that people are secretly making fun of me because I struggle to understand social cues has helped me feel so much more confident, and has helped my spouse and I communicate without unintentionally hurting each other. Knowing what anger ruminating is and what it feels like has helped me to actually let go of things, a feeling that no amount of therapy has ever done.

So yes, you will always be mentally ill. Your brain is going to continue to do things that the world isn't expecting. But knowing for yourself what works for you and what doesn't is so, so much better than ignorance.

I just think it’s important to understand that “you’re always going to be mentally ill” isn’t the same thing as “you’re always going to be unhappy”

[theunmaskedmama]

Some realizations...

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in the last little while. I have an autistic son, an autistic brother, a very likely autistic dad (who would deny it until his very end), and two half brothers who seem to have many autistic traits. How could I have possibly gone almost 38 years thinking it just magically skipped me?!

I’ve been reading a few articles about adults being diagnosed after their kids, and it was as if a lightbulb went off in my head 💡I feel so stupid because I should’ve put two and two together long ago. This is simply a rough draft of my thoughts...I know it won’t flow the way I want it to, but I need to get it out.

I always knew I was different, but couldn’t pinpoint it at all. Growing up, I was the child that hid behind my mom’s skirt. I stayed quiet unless I was around people that I knew well. Reading came quickly and easily at 18 months old and I was reading newspaper articles at two and a half. Being raised in a West Indian household, I learned very quickly that I needed to look my parents and any adult in the eyes when they spoke to me, but always felt so uncomfortable after a few seconds. I did well in school, but apparently I was a chatterbox (mainly because I was bored out of my mind). My teachers requested testing, and I was diagnosed gifted at seven years old. I had a few friends, but speaking to anyone other than them was really awkward. I mirrored a lot of what they did knowing that it was what I needed to do to remain accepted.

To this day, I always have to think long and hard about what I want to say because I’m scared I’ll offend someone or say something I’ll regret later on. Verbalizing my thoughts has always been hard and I feel awkward trying to say what I really mean. Writing helps with that because I can erase or delete whatever and whenever I want. Being in a conversation always feels awkward and I sometimes have no clue how to participate. I feel like everyone else has these great things to say, but my brain just can’t seem to get it together and make everything make sense. That means that I do a lot of agreeing or nodding, and using facial expressions to show what I think. I wonder if people I speak to regularly notice those things in me because I always feel like I stick out like a sore thumb. My husband gets annoyed that I’m obsessive about certain things, fight to make a simple phone call to a stranger, or refuse to put in an order for takeout. I try so hard to avoid these things. If I knew that I could just write down the words I needed to say beforehand, it wouldn’t be so hard. My perfectionism stunts the way I deal with him around the house. I can’t stand when he does things a certain way and know I should just shut up, but the words just flow out of my mouth uncontrollably. Sometimes I wish he’d just take the time to understand me instead of trying to tell me what or how I should be or feel.

Someone getting upset at me physically feels like being sliced with several knives along my entire torso and inside my chest. I will cry and cry if someone shouts at me and get that feeling for a good hour. Pain can be unbearable sometimes because I’ve always been so completely aware of my body. I felt my son kicking in my belly when I was only 12 weeks pregnant. That part was amazing. I’ve had to learn to push pain aside though because of what was expected of me. I’d hide in my room and cry when no one was around because it was the one way I could release everything I’d been holding in. I’ve always tried to avoid conflict because of it and only recently as an adult really learned how to say no. It sucks feeling like I have to fake being one person just to make it.

I was diagnosed with ADD at one point and took meds for it that made my head feel somewhat clearer, but that never seemed like the right diagnosis. Anxiety and depression have shown themselves in my life as well, but even with meds, I’ve always felt like there was something else there.

I am terribly disorganized even though I like things in their place. That made my life as a teacher extremely difficult and I tried so many different systems with little success. Every sound that students would make before I dove into a lesson would bother me and I would always wait for them to stop before I could focus again. The fluorescent lights in my classrooms always drove me bonkers...I could hear them buzzing constantly. Even now, it’s almost as if I have super hearing powers sometimes.

I’ve started isolating myself from people that I really care about and it’s painful. I want to make the effort, but it’s just too damn hard sometimes. There are the times where I feel like I should reach out, then I completely forget because there are a million other things on my mind. I don’t mean to, but it happens. I’ve made some great friends in the last little while too, but that has taken a lot of being out of my comfort zone. It’s for my kids though, and I would do anything for them even if it killed me.

My house is a mess. I know what needs to be done, but it just seems like there’s so much, so I don’t even know where to start. It makes me super anxious. My husband hired housekeepers which have saved my sanity when it comes to doing cleaning stuff, but I really struggle with the organizing. I don’t like having company over without lots of notice. It’s almost as if I feel like they’re invading my space even though I know them. Sometimes I feel bad about it but I just don’t always enjoy people other than my little nuclear family being here with me. Going out to see them is different though. I don’t know why for sure, but maybe it’s because I’m in their space and not the other way around.

Simply writing all of this out makes me feel like I’m so messed up. Why can’t I just feel like what I think normal is? I told my mom a few weeks ago what I was thinking about all of this and she didn’t say much. Did she know all along? Was she in denial? Or did she think that I was just shy, awkward, emotional like other kids out there?

I’ve been struggling with the words to tell my husband all of this. I’m not sure how he would take it at all. Maybe he’d think that I was simply making it all up or that it’s all in my head. Sigh. This life is hard and it sucks. Should I feel relieved or liberated now that I’m pretty sure what’s been going with me all these years? Sometimes I think I should, but it’s not that damn easy. I think I’ll send this to him, but it’s taking everything in me to do it. My anxiety is at an all-time high even thinking about what he’ll say. Will I have to live this life by myself for the rest of my life or will I have someone else to share it all with who aren’t complete strangers in cyberspace?

I feel like I’m going through stages of grief even though this isn’t something that should be grieved. It’s not my death. I’ve gone through shock, denial, and I’m somewhat between anger and depression right now. I’m so accepting of my son and who he is, but not of myself right now. Is that okay? Is this normal? What is normal. God, I have no clue at all. Fuck normal (sorry for the language).

I wish I could get a definitive diagnosis. That’s hard around here considering it takes forever just to get one for a kid. I don’t have the money to go see a psychologist and benefits don’t cover enough, so I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’m notnsure if it would do me any good or if I’d just end up dwelling over it. Just the thought of knowing for sure by a professional makes me nervous and anxious, which is probably my answer.

I’m sorry that this is so long, all over the place, and that it feels like I’m picking out all the negatives in my life. Maybe someday I’ll be able to share the things that I’m proud of, but that time isn’t now. Hopefully soon though.