#sarcasm also confounds them

[beirarowling]

It's very amusing when these little totalitarians accuse J.K. Rowling of weak worldbuilding and misogyny. Their arguments only expose their own ridiculous biases and dismal reading comprehension. When you attempt to call them out on their lies, they become irate, curse at you, and block you because the discussion isn't going their way. J.K. Rowling has given us so many incredibly strongly written, compelling, and multifaceted female characters; but they are convinced she is an antifeminist because she is unafraid to say that rapists don't belong in women's prisons.

[paeonia-horse]

Oversharing with 15 answers to 15 questions! Tagged by @crayonurchin

Are you named after anyone? Nah, I picked my own name cos I wanted something neutral-ish on account of I suck at gender.

When was the last time you cried? I watched through the entirety of Cowboy Bebop recently and there are several bits in it that always make me tear up.

Do you have kids? No, and no plans for any.

What sports do you play/have you played? Nothing in a decade or more, unless walking counts (and I don't do nearly as much of that as I should)

Do you use sarcasm? Entirely too much in person, but not so much in writing where it is harder to discern.

What is the first thing you notice about people? Demeanour and vibe.

What is your eye color? Dull green.

Scary movies or happy endings? I mostly prefer movies with a happy ending, though a good scare now and then is fun.

Any talents? I can bake a potato in 20 minutes using nothing but the power of my mind and also the microwave.

Where were you born? Somewhere in, around, or near Glasgow. No more specific than that.

What are your hobbies? Dithering about in video games, and sometimes when the mood takes me, i draw a horse critter or two.

Do you have any pets? If the local pigeons count then yes, a whole flock of semi-feral pets. Otherwise no.

How tall are you? 5' 3", aka a bit of a shortarse.

Favorite subject in school? Honestly of all the thing I done in school, tech drawing and home economics were the most fun subjects, I wish I had pursued them once I could pick my own subjects for the year instead of choosing more science and computing related things that just burnt me out in the end.

Dream job? I want to live on a boat somewhere quiet and make art of some sort for a living, but I don't have a boat, or any real skill with art. Might be working on the boat side of things, but I have no mojo to work on the art side of things, so this is probably just a pipe dream really.

Tagging @themarvelhorse, @smrtz, @dracini, @azuki-beans and @strawberrydakry cos I've seen y'all in my activity recently and I appreciate y'all for sticking around!

If you do chose to do this, remember to throw in some red herrings to confound any online identity thieves looking for identifiable information.

[elvenxwarrior]

Play Time - Asmodeus

Masterlist

You can also find this posted on my AO3!

CONTENT WARNING: Kinda spicy uwu MINORS DNI.

You and Asmodeus had jealousy for each-other that could almost put Leviathan to shame... Not that you two would know it. The jealousy was silent and seething; everyone except the pair of you could see that.

Whenever Asmodeus would come back with his usual witch/es for a brief fling, your blood would boil, something about this drove you mad. You knew exactly why though, you were in love with the lustful demon.

However, there are two sides to a coin. When you would spend time with his brothers, he felt strange in his heart and would have a strong desire to drag you away from them.

Asmodeus decided to turn this into a game... "How Long Does It Take [Name] To Lose It?"

He knew you'd be wandering out and about today with Lucifer doing pointless errands, so he decided to 'follow'. You and Lucifer were stood talking about the errands that needed to be done; you offered to go and do some by yourself if it meant getting it done quicker which Lucifer greatly appreciated your suggestion and reminded you to be safe.

On your journey, you saw the flirtatious brother with a young woman. She had very similar features to you; her hair colour was very close, maybe a bit longer too?

'Why is he talking to her? Another fling probably...' you thought to yourself. 'But... she looks so much like me...!'

"Well, my dear it was lovely to see you again! Ciao~" His voice rang out, before he spotted you with an amused smile. "Ah, [Name]!"

You heavily sighed, clutching your bag closer to you as you glanced through a store window, "Yes, Asmo?"

"You were just the person I was looking for, I-"

"Was I? You seemed quite happy talking to my doppelgänger just now..." You smirked, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Asmo playfully frowned, folding his arms, "Oh? Feeling a bit jealous are we~?"

You suddenly felt your face flush and you stuttered over your words, "I'm not-, how could you say-, why would you-"

Somewhere amongst your talk you and Asmodeus had ended up in a dimly lit alley - it was illuminated by small blue lanterns and was surprisingly clean. He suddenly, yet gently had you against the wall.

"Well, it seems to me... [Name]~"

The way he emphasised your name sent a shiver through you, "That you want little ol' me aaaalllll to yourself...~"

You nodded in response, worried your words would still be tangled in your throat. "How greedy... [Name]...~ How many more of my brothers do you wish to put to shame all because of me? Too proud like Lucifer to admit you want me? Hm~?"

"Asmo..." His name barely made a sound out of you, almost like a needy whine. Your arms went around his neck, tangling in his hair and pulling him to you.

Your lips politely collided as the demon before you pulled one of your legs around his waist, both of you humming a small moan into your passionate interaction. He gripped your other leg, making you push yourself off the floor to wrap both legs around him.

Asmodeus smirked, pressing his crotch against yours and gripping your waist affectionately and began to kiss and bite down your neck. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this, [Name]..."

"M-Me too, Ah~! Asmo~!"

His hands began travelling up to your chest, before being interrupted. "[Name]? Where has that confounded human gotten to now…?"

Asmodeus gently let you down, and adjusted your clothes and hair to be more presentable, "Let us continue this back at home~"

You breathlessly nodded, turning to go and meet Lucifer.

"Thanks for playing this game with me, [Name]. Now," He smacked your butt, "Go!"

[sokkagatekeeper]

Not sure if any of you two have watched into/across the spiderverse (highly recommend!!!) but what do you think about Peter B Parker being an older, worn out Sokka variant. He’s kind of Sokka adjacent, especially in the first movie. I saw the slight similarities at first and now they’re really just confounding imo.

well all spidermen (besides miguel) are kinda sokkacoded in their sarcasm/humor thing they've got going on but that's relatively surface-level. i think the main thing that sokka has in common with peter b. parker throughout is his cynicism and exasperation, but the actual most important similarity they have is actually far more true towards the end of the itsv and in astv—their dedication to and responsibility for younger people around them. sokka might be too anxious to bring their kid to a fight though.

also i read this ask to shira @koheletgirl and she says that peter isn't really sokkacoded he just shares a voice with nick miller who often has a similar humor/role as sokka so ppl get confused

[veetlegeuse]

❛ wait, you’re leaving already? ❜ stylvisaac

(hehe here’s some post-sylvisaac but pre-STylvisaac for u. for extra context, isaac and sylvie are still trying to figure out how to tell stiles that they want him to be their bf.)

When Sylvie had suggested a movie marathon, Stiles really should have known that she meant an all day marathon. He’d said yes when she asked him at breakfast, smiling at him so sweetly over her bowl of Lucky Charms (which was really just a bowl of marshmallows and milk with only a handful of wheat pieces that Stiles insisted she eat also) that there was no way he could tell her no.

(This was happening more frequently than Stiles would have liked to admit, stubborn as he was, but there was something about Sylvie’s smile that made him want to do anything and everything she asked him to. He still wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t some sort of enchantress, charming him with her bright eyes and her sweet as honey voice.)

Just moments after they finished breakfast, Sylvie joined Stiles in his room, cradling his extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy in her arms.

“These look fun!” Sylvie had said, and Stiles nearly crumbled. No one ever wanted to watch the Lord of the Rings with him, and, yeah, maybe it was because Sylvie didn’t know what she was getting into, but a win was a win. If she didn’t like it, he would suggest something else, but he had a feeling she’d like it.

Isaac showed up (unannounced, again, for the third time that week) in between the Fellowship of the Ring and The Two Towers as Sylvie and Stiles were popping a bowl of popcorn. Stiles hadn’t heard him come in, so he nearly jumped out of his skin as Sylvie let out an ear-piercing squeal of excitement at his arrival.

“We really should put a bell on you or something.” Stiles grumbled, as Sylvie wrapped her arms around Isaac, beaming up at him.

“Nice to see you too, Stiles.” Isaac smirked at him, leaning down just slightly to kiss Sylvie on the top of her head.

Stiles resisted the urge to groan. He really didn’t feel like playing third wheel to Sylvie and Isaac again, especially when… well… he didn’t want to think about it. It was bad enough having feelings for one person who was already in a relationship, but watching both of the people he had feelings for in a relationship with each other was borderline torture. He’d ignore this feeling, repeating to himself that this situation was perfectly fine and good and not at all agonizing.

“Well, don’t get too excited to see me,” Isaac teased with a small smile, clocking the slight scowl on Stiles’ face. “I just came to check on Sylvie, but I don’t think I want any part in whatever little…” He noticed the copy of The Two Towers resting on the countertop, “…Nerdfest you might have going on.”

He looked down at Sylvie with an expression Stiles couldn’t place, and Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Wait, you’re already leaving?” He asked, clearing his throat in embarrassment as Isaac raised his own eyebrows in surprise, before a sly smile spread across his face.

“What, do you want me to stay or something?”

Stiles looked away from him, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. “No.” He said, but he knew he didn’t sound even the slightest bit convincing. Damn it. Isaac would never let him hear the end of this. “Whatever. Stay if you want.”

“Okay, cool,” Isaac shrugged, the lack of sarcasm in his response honestly kind of confounding Stiles.

“Cool!” Sylvie beamed at the both of them.

“…Cool.” Stiles repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes in confusion, but hey, like he said, a win was a win.

[circle-bircle]

teehee thanks @lil-melody for tagging me!!! i love talking about myself :3c

1. Are you named after anyone? 

well in my culture it’s customary to name children after deceased family members... so yes. i’m named after my grandma claire! can’t you see the relation from claire to circle? (yes i was bullied for my name)

2. When was the last time you cried? 

i cry all the time. i think the last notable time i cried was... yesterday? two days ago? i forgot. but you’d be surprised how much human anatomy circles have

3. Do you have kids? 

currently? like... no? i was going to say something else but i realize i can’t say that so nvm

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? 

whaaaaaaat me, circle-bircle? be sarcastic? nooooo haven’t you heard circles are the most reliable shape? trust me guaiz 

5. What's the first thing you notice about people? hair. i remember this one time i met this nice rectangle and he had an afro so whenever i see a rectangle with an afro i automatically think him... but it’s never him. :P

6. What's your eye colour? my eyes are what my friends call “bluh-gre-gray” but i think they’re like... a blue that’s been sitting out on the counter for a while. gettin a little stale

7. Scary movies or happy endings? happy endings... scary movies r too scawy for circle (confounded emoji)

8. Any special talents? i can fart with my armpits and my hands and the backs of my knee. don’t ask how a circle can do that because i don’t have an answer for you (practice). i can also eat a banana with my foot and out there is a video of me eating a banana with my foot (practice makes perfect guys)

9. Where were you born? tee-hee! guess! it’s obvious!!!

10. What are your hobbies? writing... fanfic? i guess? playing video games? reading fanfic? annoying my trapezoid neighbor? theorycrafting fe4 genealogy runs i never do because fe4 is slow as heck????

11. Have you any pets? i used to but they died. i like rats :)

12. What sports do you play/have played? as a circle it is very hard for me to do sports. therefore, i do not do them. i am a two-dimensional shape. used to be pretty good at QWOP tho if i must brag...

13. How tall are you? i’m a circle (shorter than you, probably)

14. Favourite subject in school? as a whole, english. i love it when language arts teachers make me get creative because ummm OF COURSE i can do that :P but i also like foreign language classes because... yeah!!!

15. Dream job? i’m gonna live in a cardboard box in [AREA REDACTED] under a bridge. and then i’m going to do lots of bad things because YOLO and then die probably

i need to tag people but i don’t have a lot of people to tag.... so if you see this and also enjoy talking about yourself to the void, you should do this! i’ll read it and give it a cute little like and everything

[heart-seoul-soshi]

Everything You Need to Know About the Capricorn Personality Traits and Love Compatibility

Capricorn is quite possibly the best sign, and individuals with this zodiac sign will generally be exceptionally interesting. Capricorn is symbolized by the goat and is the tenth sign of the zodiac. Capricorn traits are special, and individuals brought into the world under this sign are ambitious, focused, sensitive, and profound.

Capricorn's symbolic goat was historically a half-goat and a half-fish. The Capricorn native personality reflects this confounded double nature. They have two distinct personalities. Ambitious, diligent, and enterprising is one side of the sign. Capricorn natives are very determined, enthusiastic about existence, and fit for setting grandiose, yet feasible, objectives. The Capricorn natives, then again, are lost in a universe of real or imagined barriers to accomplishment. Capricorn natives every so often miss the mark on their drive to act and face their challenges. Indeed, even the most prosperous Capricorn natives have a propensity for crying and griping about fictitious difficulties.

Capricorns tend to keep small circles, but they are loyal and supportive of their friends and family. They love making secure, luxurious nests and living an agreeable, fortunate lifestyle. Living well means a lot to them. Capricorns are conceived as shrewd; they get what really matters to others, and they are self-mindful of their own needs and traits as well.

Personality Traits of Capricorn Zodiac

Hardworking

Individuals brought into the world under this sign are considered ambitious, determined, serious about their work, and dedicated. They strive hard to accomplish their goals and work persistently to finish tasks such as taking care of assignments, work projects, etc. Perhaps one of the best things about Capricorns is that they investigate every possibility of accomplishing a task.

Not entirely settled to show others what's really under the surface. Furthermore, can we just be real, somewhat obsessed with status and the trappings of success?

Loyal

In the event that there is one uprightness that can make a person alluring, that is loyalty, and Capricorns are perfect with that. Their tendencies are authentic and unadulterated. One can always depend on a Capricorn when out of luck, and they will always give their best to help somebody out. They are loyal individuals who cherish their friends and friends and family a great deal.

Realistic

There are clear-eyed, discerning, practical, and experienced characters. Their feet are so established on the ground that sometimes their look tips downwards, and they'll focus on the negatives instead of the possibilities.

Capricorns aren't interested in fantasies or making up new worlds, but rather in making things better in the real world. They're always smart and natural about how things work, and they'll jump at the chance to reach out and just do it.

Less Sentimental

Capricorns, for the most part, love individuals, and they profoundly esteem their loved ones. In any case, they are also known for their exceptionally useful nature, which makes them wear a mask, never allowing their emotions to oversee their decisions. Sometimes, they need to enjoy some time off from everybody and everything in their life. This is the reason you could feel some Capricorns are sincerely cold and distant.

Sense of Humor

Who really prefers not to spend time with individuals who are clever and have an extraordinary sense of humor, isn't it? Capricorns are known for their sharp minds and sharp sense of humor. But be careful! Try not to hurt them, or maybe their high intelligence level can make jokes loaded with sarcasm.

Materialistic

One of the most well-known Capricorn traits is that they are known to be somewhat materialistic and boast about themselves when they make progress. In any case, they also assume complete ownership of some unacceptable decisions they make, never accusing others.

Stubborn

Have you at any point succeeded in changing the brain of a Capricorn? It is an impossible task since the Saturn-fueled Capricorns are by and large stubborn. They could do without to change their beliefs for anybody and do things the manner in which they need, regardless.

Capricorn’s Most and Least Compatible Signs

Best Matches for Capricorn

Cancer With respect to similarity, Pisces and Capricorn are more viable than Cancer. Capricorn and Cancer are ideal partners since they are opposite signs.

Day to-day life is shaped by the archetypes that these opposite pairs represent. Also, some opposite-pair combinations work better compared to others.

Scorpio There are numerous similarities between Scorpio and Capricorn. They will quite often focus on business over pleasure and dislike small talk. Scorpio and Capricorn are definitely carbon copies from the outside.

They are really on top of each other at this level. These two are also very viable in a heartfelt or personal relationship. Scorpio is an intensely passionate sign but can be overwhelmed by emotions. Capricorn is fit for softening Scorpio, and Scorpio is fit for stabilizing Scorpio.

Taurus Taurus and Capricorn complete one another well overall. They are both pragmatic and practical. Their material prosperity is a main concern for both Earth Signs. There is also little clash between them since they understand each other instinctively.

Their similarities are offset by a couple of key differences. This allows them to supplement and adjust each other.

Worst Matches for Capricorn

Aries Fights for control are common among Capricorns and Aries, as well as Leos and Capricorns. Nonetheless, not at all like Leo, Capricorn finds Aries appealing.

The aspect between Capricorn and Aries is known as a square. There is a great deal of erosion here, which creates sexual tension as well. Neither one of the signs is shy about assuming responsibility and finishing things. Be that as it may, these signs approach their goals in their own ways.

Leo Capricorn has the most trouble joining with Leo. Nonetheless, different signs are altogether different, despite their opposition to leadership and status.

Leo is above all else, regardless of social status or foundation. Leo wishes to be seen and appreciated. Capricorns, nonetheless, need to finish things. Capricorn is aggravated by Leo's style. Capricorn finds Leo dull.

Libra Libra shares an honest relationship with Capricorn, similar to Aries. This match, nonetheless, is less unpredictable. For Libra, struggle is something terrible.

Although this is valid, Capricorns are by and large drawn to one another and can be irritating to one another. Notwithstanding, Libra really prefers not to relinquish control, despite appearances. Libras seldom assert themselves, obviously, but they can get what they need and need.

Ending note

Capricorn is an amazing and extremely energetic zodiac sign, as well as one of the most amazing people to be around. Be it a companion, partner, or family member, they will give their all for their job in your life. Known for their perfect personality traits, they are objective situated folks however never neglect to think often about their friends and family.

Despite the fact that they are wonderful in and out, if they push some unacceptable button, they will rapidly unwind their rage because of their zero resilience. In any case, thanks to their optimistic outlook and natural nature, the unique Capricorns flourish consistently to make the world a better spot, getting a charge out of engaging in testing things and doing them without anyone's help.

[jaitropdonglets]

Connecting with the Autistic Adults in Your Life

Tips for educators, therapists, friends, and loved ones

Devon Price

·

Following

Published in

Age of Awareness

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13 min read

·

Jan 7, 2020

1.3K

I’m an adult Autistic person, and I love being Autistic.

Autism has brought a lot of wonderful things into my life. It’s given me the focus and intensity required to become a prolific writer. It’s helped me develop an analytic, critical perspective that can cut through the bullshit of bureaucracy, meaningless social rules, outdated gender norms, and so much more. And Autism has taught me to be strong in the face of judgement and ostracism, allowing me to stand up for what is right and provide a warm embrace to other people who have been excluded for being strange, inappropriate, not enough, “wrong”.

But for all its gifts, Autism also has its share of challenges. Actually, scratch that. It’s not Autism that’s the problem. It’s how other people respond to Autism.

Mainstream, neurotypical society creates loud, bright, unpredictable spaces, then expects Autistic people to navigate them seamlessly, without a wince or a complaint. When an Autistic person struggles, they are typically blamed for being oversensitive, or non-compliant, or simply for not trying enough. Without ever meaning to, allistic (non-Autistic) people lay out numerous Autism-unfriendly expectations for how other people think and act, and routinely express themselves in ways that Autistic people find confounding.

When we aren’t subjected to allistic expectations and norms, many Autistic folks get along just fine. Being Autistic, by itself, can be pretty easy. It’s being Autistic around neurotypical people that is hard.

A couple of days ago, an allistic therapist tweeted at me, asking how she could better serve her Autistic patients. I was so glad she knew to ask. Most mental health providers aren’t taught much about what Autism looks like in adults. Adult educators usually don’t know a thing about the topic. Neither do the friends and loved ones of Autistic adults. There’s a lot of very general information about childhood Autism to be found online, mostly stereotypical stuff best suited for cisgender boys with “masculine” interests, but if you love an Autistic person who differs from that mold, particularly an adult, you’re probably kind of lost.

So, how do you support the Autistic adults around you? How can you make the world a more accessible place for us? How can you be a more accommodating coworker, therapist, lover, or friend? Here are a few tips, inspired by a blend of my own experience, the (limited) research that is available, and countless conversations with my Autistic peers:

Communicate Directly — Even When It’s Uncomfortable

I often find that non-autistic people communicate in indirect, symbolic ways. They often care more about conveying a general feeling than they do expressing the literal truth. A lot of their messaging occurs on a non-verbal or social level, and when you’re Autistic, it’s easy to miss entirely.

Many non-Autistics seem to be especially uncomfortable with negativity. Saying “no” to an idea, telling a person they’ve got the facts wrong, passing judgement on an unethical act — these are really difficult for allistics to express. Instead, they’ll approach the truth from an angle. They’ll use sarcasm, veiled compliments, and small talk to make a point rather than stating it outright. It confuses Autistic people a lot, and makes us feel crazy.

For example, I’ve noticed that when an allistic person doesn’t want to do something, they will often point out an irrelevant flaw with the suggestion instead of just saying “sorry, I’m not interested in that activity”. Or they’ll say “maybe” when they actually mean “no”. They’ll broadcast countless nonverbal messages that mean anything from “please come over here” to “stop doing that” to “please leave me alone to talk with this person”, and then get frustrated when Autistic people can’t read them.

There’s also a frustrating lack of consistency in what an allistic person’s veiled message even is. Sometimes, an allistic person will vent or complain about a stressful situation as a way of indirectly asking for help in handling it. Other times, they’ll vent and complain because they want a supportive ear — and will be offended if somebody tries to offer them advice. It’s very hard to tell the difference.

Many Autistic people have a hard time detecting sarcasm, and we usually believe people mean exactly what they say. So if you want to express yourself to one of us, don’t dodge the issue. Just say it outright.

“I can’t do that”“Please give me some space”, “I don’t understand what you mean, can you explain it again?”, “I’m tired of talking about this”, and “I would love to do that” are all great examples of clear, direct communication. Just say what you mean. It’s that simple!

Of course, I recognize that for many allistic people, being straightforward isn’t actually simple at all. You’ve been taught all your life to temper rejection with praise, to hide disagreement behind agreeable language. But when you’re communicating with Autistic folks, you’ve got to throw that playbook — and your fears of being “negative” — out the window. As a general rule, we don’t get offended when people tell us “no”.

In fact, clear boundaries and honest rejections can help us feel safe. Most of the time we have to guess frantically at what allistic people mean, so it’s a relief when one just lays out how they’re actually feeling. Also, try not to be offended when we are similarly direct or blunt with you. We’re not trying to be hurtful or barbed. We’re just trying to express our feelings in a way that won’t be misconstrued.

Manage Expectations

Autistic folks expect people’s actions to be predictable and logical. To most of us, numbers have specific meanings, life has a structure, and things happen for a reason. When allistic people operate in vaguer, more intuitive terms, it can really throw us for a loop.

Here’s a really simple example. If my partner says he’s going to be ready to leave the house in five minutes, I assume he’ll be out the door in exactly five minutes. But often, “in five minutes” means something way more amorphous and vague to him than that. It’s more about a feeling of readiness than it is about something quantifiable. I know this about him — we’ve been together nine years — yet my brain short-circuits with confusion every single time it happens.

Similarly, when an allistic coworker tells me they’ll have a draft ready “by tomorrow”, I assume they have an accurate gauge on how long a task will take, and have set aside that amount of time to get it done. This almost never actually happens. I have found that for most allistic people, “tomorrow” is more aspirational than it is literal. When someone says “this will be done tomorrow” what they often mean is something like, “I’m gonna start working on it sometime this week”.

No human being is completely rational; even Autistic folks aren’t robots. But when we’re surrounded by allistic people who communicate in vague, emotion-based ways, we often end up feeling like confused robots who haven’t been properly programmed to interpret human speech. We thrive on consistency and feel most at ease when we know what to expect, so the more accurate you can be with us, the better.

Not sure how long an activity will take to complete? Give an estimate that allows room for error and setbacks. Want to cancel plans? Just say that you need to cancel, instead of using wishy-washy language about how you “might not be up for it”. Have to deviate from the pre-determined schedule? Let the Autistic person know as soon as you can, so we can prepare for it. Don’t try to soften the blow with euphemistic language — we might miss the message or be confused about why a change is happening.

Be Willing to Go Deep

I will never understand why someone would choose to only love something in half measures. It’s tragic to me that some people never get to throw themselves into the depths of passion for fear of seeming “weird”. Loving something intensely is a wonderful escape from the stressors of everyday life. It’s a transcendent experience. It helps us develop new skills and knowledge bases, and connects us with other people who share that capacity for depth.

Of course, allistic people are completely capable of going just as deep as Autistic people are. You can decide at any time to abandon your fears of seeming “cringey”, and take the plunge right along with us. You might find you like how it feels to lose yourself to obsession every once in a while.

Want to dive in? It’s really easy. Just ask an Autistic person about a topic that interests them, and really listen, with a genuine ear. Often, allistic people will do this frustrating thing where they’ll bring up an exciting, complex topic, but then quickly lose interest the second an Autistic person really tries to engage with the topic’s depth. It’s not a crime to prefer small talk, but most Autistics want to get more philosophical or analytical than that. Try coming along for the ride. You might learn something!

Autistic people love to share information about the topics that excite us. The process is called “info-dumping”, but it’s really an expression of affection and passion. You don’t have to sit and listen to one of us prattle on about Pokemon forever if you don’t want to, but if you can find common ground with one of us, there’s a lot of potential for connection and creativity.

Passionate Autistic people are the lifeblood of every nerd community, online database, and digital subculture. We pour a ton of energy into these social groups, and help make them into eccentric, comfortable spaces where everyone is welcome. Don’t be afraid to join them and geek out with us — nobody is going to judge you. It’s cool to be earnest. It’s fun to care about things! And the more time you spend with Autistic people, the less self-conscious you’ll feel about whatever freaky or niche interests you might have lurking inside you.

Don’t Expect Our Emotions to Look Like Yours

A few months ago, a lot of well-meaning feminist writers wrote pieces celebrating the fact that climate activist Greta Thunberg doesn’t smile very often. In a world where women are expected to be easygoing and pleasant to look at, it seemed revolutionary for a teenager girl to move through the world with a flat, serious face. Shockingly, most of these essays said little about the fact that Thunberg is an out, proud Autistic young woman.

You cannot separate Thunberg’s steely confidence from her Autism, and you can’t discuss the criticism she faces without acknowledging the ableism at the core of it. Thunberg isn’t just criticized for frowning because she is a young woman. It’s also because her way of emoting and expressing herself is deeply, proudly Autistic, and most people are still very uncomfortable with that.

Autistic emotions are different. We are often “flat-affected” and seem far less expressive and outgoing than our non-Autistic peers. This can leave people with the impression that we have no feelings or internal lives at all. Our neutral, resting expressions can read as angry, blank, or depressed to allistic people. We often get told to “smile!”, or get criticized for seeming unfriendly, but faking the cheerful bubbliness that allistic people desire from us can be downright exhausting.

Expressing emotions as an Autistic person is a total double-bind. If we try to look calm and behave “normally”, people think we are emotionless automatons. Yet if we express ourselves in the loud, physical, abnormal ways that feel authentic, people think that we’re freaks. Whichever route we choose, we end up being corrected and reprimanded constantly. By the time we’re adults, most of us have been told thousands of times that our emotions are totally inappropriate, so we’ve learned to don an impassive, phony mask instead.

“Masking” Autism is exhausting. A lot of research has shown that the better an Autistic person is at feigning a neurotypical personality, the greater a toll it takes on our mental health. So if you want to be a true and committed ally to the Austitic folks around you, you’ve got to get comfortable with our unique ways of expressing emotion.

If you love an Autistic person, don’t try to guess what they are feeling. Don’t assume that just because their face is flat and serious-seeming that they are angry, or sad, or depressed. Don’t ask us constantly if we are “doing okay” or if “something is wrong” — it can feel like a reprimand to put our mask back on. Don’t tell the Autistic people in your life that their happy flapping or sorrowful bawling is “too much”. Read up on Autistic meltdowns, and come to understand how emotional overloads feel.

Most of all, don’t pressure Autistic people to feign a neurotypical personality. One of the most damaging things you can do to one of us is to judge and stifle our authentic, healthy communication.

Relax the Social Rules

Most social norms are completely arbitrary and have no logical explanation. This confounds the hell out of most Autistic people. Why does wearing a piece of elaborately knotted fabric around your throat signify that you are a professional? Why are some complicated hairstyles considered fancy, yet other, equally elaborate hairstyles are considered workplace-inappropriate? Why do we routinely ask people how they are doing, yet never expect a negative reply?

At best, these pointless rules are an annoyance that neurotypical people learn to ignore. At worst, they are a means of exclusion, making public life inaccessible for anyone who is marginalized. Rules about what counts as ‘professional’ conduct and attire are often racist, sexist, transphobic, and ableist to a massive degree.

One of the greatest gifts of Autism is a keen ability to see through all this arbitrary prejudice. Many of us find it nigh impossible to follow rules that make no sense or are damaging. If a piece of useless fabric is physically uncomfortable, we’re not gonna wear it. If a gender norm is reductive, we’re not going to follow it. If there’s an injustice staring us in the face, we’re going to want to confront it, even if the allistic people around us view doing so as ‘impolite’.

In mainstream, neurotypical society, this amazing gift is instead perceived as a curse. Sitting comfortably and wearing cozy clothing is seen as sloppy or immature. Honesty and authenticity gets us labeled rude. If we don’t provide the socially expected amount of eye contact, people think we’re liars, or even joke that we seem dangerous and scary. We end up being ostracized despite having done no harm at all.

If you want to help Autistic people thrive, you’ve got to loosen the rules. In professional settings, really consider which expectations are important, and which are arbitrary signifiers of status or ability. Does having a dress code impact how business is done in any measurable way? If people are permitted to a little strange, is there any harm done? Do you need every employee to be a talented conversationalist, or is there room in your world for people who are shy, with stuttering voices or gazes that never leave the floor?

Outside of work and school, consider how social norms influence your social perceptions. Are you creeped out when you see a guy rocking in place on the bus? If someone takes a few seconds longer than normal to answer a question, do you respect them less? Do you think it’s wrong or inappropriate for an adult to sleep with a stuffed animal? Do you only choose friends who dress, talk, emote, think, and live as you do? Why?

Don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people who make you feel a little awkward sometimes. And don’t hesitate to stand up for those among us who come across as unusual, eccentric, or harmlessly awkward. People who behave and think in non-normative ways can challenge you and help you to grow. And being around a variety of types of people can free you to be more authentically, bizarrely yourself, too.

…

Being Autistic in a neurotypical society means constantly violating the rules of a game that no one taught you how to play, and which you never consented to being a part of. You’re constantly being told, in indirect ways, that your actions, mannerisms, and words are unacceptable. People seem to be constantly misleading you, and yet find your attempts at clearing things up to be rude or suspect. When you do finally figure out the rules of the game, you discover that they are incredibly taxing and emotionally depleting for you to follow. It can be despair-inducing, and deeply isolating.

This can all change in an instant, however, when an allistic person makes the choice to meet us halfway. When people are honest and straightforward with us, we are able to form safe, healthy relationships with strong lines of communication. When we are celebrated for our weirdness, we get to challenge the status quo in important, far-reaching ways. And when we are allowed to express ourselves without fear of reprisal, we get to share our deep capacity for joy with a world that desperately needs it.

Autistic people do not need to be cured — we need to be accommodated.Thankfully, if you’re an allistic ally, accommodation can be easy. Just relax your adherence to social norms, get comfortable with a bit of strangeness, and tell us how you’re feeling. We want to get to know you. We have been reaching out and making overtures all our lives. Make an effort to know us, too.

[gloriousncss]

@balteren ( maria & max ) post plot drop, at the boat races

The Ortiz family got lucky. With the Bonaparte Queen's death, it was rather convenient for Maria's intentions to keep her family afloat in power until the opportune moment. Hell, if anyone accused her of murdering the queen, she'd have ever reason to believe them. But she had a rather rock-solid alibi, for she was too busy drinking away her sorrows into the depths of denial until she was a stranger to the idea of heartbreak. How could her heart be broken if she hardly had one to begin with? Laughter and sarcasm were the kindred spirits of avoidance. If she could not even convince herself of the true reason she was wallowing, how could she tell anyone else? So, of course, she took each whispered, or blatant, accusation on the chin. What made the ship such a welcome respite, besides the fact that she felt like she belonged at sea, was that she didn't have to be near Max and hear all about his little courtship. Pining and promenades and picnics. Disgusting. But amongst the thrill of the competition, hosted by her very own family, her defenses were down long enough to catch his eye. What a confounding feeling, to want to be near one person all the time while also not wanting to see that person at all. Denial is easier than sorting out all of this. "Have you ever heard the legends of El Dorado?" naturally, a grin formed on her face, even if her eyes fought to remain still, guarded, "We stand on the same continent where a city of gold lies, buried in a hundred years of stories... who knows what else this land holds..."

[eviesessays]

23. Are you the same person you were as an adolescent, or very different?

When I have to think about questions like this I want very much to think I have evolved into a thoughtful, brilliant and broadminded adult.  Alas, I’m still Evie and despite my greatest hopes and wishes I am still very much the same person I was as an adolescent. At our 40th class reunion my classmate Eunice, remarked on how much we all had changed.  We were all older, had married, had careers and most of us had adult children.  But I thought we were all very much the same.  Character does not change.  

Jim, our most illustrious classmate was always serious, studious and handsome.  In our late 50’s he is still all that.  He has an MD and a Phd and has been inducted into the Order of Canada, a distinction bestowed on 100 Canadians each year for notable accomplishments.  Jim was recognized for his work in large and small cell lung cancer.  He was published in the illustrious AJN.  

Pat who had red hair was full of Irish blarney and very proud of his Irish heritage. He was a great party organizer and regaled us with stories of his hard drinking Irish relatives.  One of his memorable  stories was about his brother and cousin going to their uncle Frank’s to drink since their aunt Hilda was out for the evening.  They drank too much and got into a bit of a kerfuffle with the uncle lying on the floor.  The young drinkers thinking they had killed him began to dig a grave in Hilda’s garden.  When they went in to fetch the body, uncle Frank was sitting back at the table.  Both young drinkers left to stagger their way home.  Hilda called the next morning to ask why Jackie dug up all her petunias.  Pat had a thousand such stories and was still regaling us with them. 

Lynn still slapped her hand flat on the table exclaiming, “Well, I’ll be darned,” at any thing that surprised or confounded her.

Kenny still held his open hand on his left hip as he manned the grill.  He and Gail are married to each other and are still the generous, quintessential host and hostess.  Their pickerel fish dinners should make the cover of “Gourmet”.  

My brother, Kip still has his repertoire of one liners for which he has always been known. It seems to me we are all pretty much older versions of who and what we always were.  

Alma has a degree in accounting.  Jim has advanced degrees in Medicine.  Pat,  Jerry and Eunice have Masters in education and four of us are nurses.  We all have interesting careers.  

I wanted so much to think I had evolved into a broadminded, gracious middle aged woman but when I honestly looked at myself, I was still living with the demons of my adolescence.  Try as I might, I am still as impatient, abrupt and sarcastic as ever.  My nursing school classmate, Val repeatedly  reminded me that sarcasm was a weapon of the weak.  I take that admonition to heart every time I catch myself but my remorse

soon escapes me.  

I was so much like my mother.  She was abrupt, intolerant and impatient but this did not have to be my fate.  My father was the polar opposite.  He had seemingly endless patience.  Kip was like my Dad.  We both painted and he could spend an entire afternoon trying to get a cloud right.  I had no such patience.   

I was demanding of staff at work but my demands did not exceed what protocols or good practice demanded.  I once saw a colleague testing fecal matter in the medication room rather than the appropriate utility room and I confronted her.  to that she replied, “Evie, you are so anal.”  Yes , I will own that but I also think patients were safer in my care.

Year after year at my annual review,  my goal was to be a more contemplative and less judgmental person.  I have wrestled all my life with this flaw with minimal success.  In my defense I want to say that McLean Hospital awarded me the Margaret Tibbetts Award for leadership in Nursing.  

I am not the same person I was as an adolescent.  I am older, far more educated, far better read and retired from a very satisfying career.  I have a wonderful family and now, the most delightful great grandchidren.  I still try to temper my shortcomings but alas, character does not change with age and I am destined to be the same sort of person for my next 87 years.

[letarasstuff]

You are not gonna meet them

(A/N): This was requested by an anon. I hope you all enjoy it :)

Summary: How will their beloved intern react, when the BAU is able to profile that she is seeing someone?

Warnings: One swear word (for the sake of a vine reference)

Wordcount: 1.2k

✨Masterlist✨

__________________________________

“What is their name?” Confused (Y/N) takes her eyes off the cup of her favorite hot beverage. To make sure Derek really speaks to her, she turns around in the breakroom. It’s only the two of them. “Whose name? I’m (Y/N), but Derek I work here for two months already. Aren’t you a little too young to suffer from Alzheimer’s yet?”

He laughs into his own cup before taking a sip. “You are seeing someone. Don’t try to hide that from a bunch of profilers, there is no use in that.”

Being the ever stoic and mature teenager, she sticks her tongue out. “I’m not hiding anything. I’m the CEO of being an open book. But spill your tea about your deductions, Sherlock.”

“As you wish, Watson. You are wearing tinted lip balm instead of your usual clear lip balm. I saw you reapplying it after you dropped off some files in Hotch’s office. Also you have a new hairstyle, which looks quite nice on you. In addition to that you wear a bottom up and I saw you wearing one only once and that was when you had to dress up for an undercover thing. Therefore I come to the conclusion that this is your definition of dressing up and I see no reason for it except you want to impress someone and I know for a fact that everybody in this building is too old for you. So, what’s their name?”

“Whatever”, (Y/N) breathes under her breath and makes an effort to escape this interrogation. But Spencer, who also decided it’s time for the trillions refill of his cup of sugar with a drop of coffee, stands in the doorway. “Spencer, can you please step aside? I have work to do”, she asks him sighing. But the genius doesn’t bulge.

(Y/N) looks dumbfounded at her coworker and friend. “I- that was pretty good. But you haven’t considered that I may have a meeting with our dear Section Chief regarding my future in the FBI.” At the end she smiles, thinking she has won this round. “I did”, Morgan answers, wiping the grin from her face, “ and I know again for a fact that this meeting is next week, because Hotch is seeing her today to talk about that subject. So, what are they like?”

“Oh, does our favorite intern have a love interest? (Y/N), why didn’t you tell me anything?” Emily asks as she enters the breakroom. “No, I don-” “Princess, I told you it isn’t possible to lie to us. We are basically human lie detectors.”

“I heard tea and I want you to spill it.” He says, proud to put the phrase she taught him a while ago in the right context. “There is not tea, just a lame glass of water”, (Y/N) responds and squeezes past him. The three profilers look at each other in confusion. Attracted by her confounding statement, they follow her to her desk.

“Why are you stalking the child?” Rossi asks with Hotch hot on his heels. “(Y/N) is seeing someone, but isn’t willing to tell us anything about them. Now we try to pry every bit of information from her”, Spencer explains.

The talked about subject sits at her desk, acting like nothing just occurred while going through some reports. “Are you talking about her crush?” JJ joins the group observation. Everybody looks at her in shock. “What do you know about this?” Derek may be a bit overprotective over his favorite princess.

“Probably not more than you. I just saw her smiling down at her phone and I didn’t spot a cute dog or cat picture so I figured it has to be an important someone”, JJ explains whilst shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t like this guessing. Why don’t we just ask her?” Rossi is up and goes to (Y/N), the calls of his team members falling on deaf ears.

As the teenager hears the oncoming footsteps, she lifts her head and spies the older Italian. “Not you, too.” A groan leaves her lips while rubbing her forehead in distress. “Bambi, think of it as that: The earlier you confess to your lies, the earlier your conscience is lifted. So tell us about them, will you?”

The rest of the team inches closer to the duo, while (Y/N) contemplates her choices. “Well that is interesting. But what’s also interesting is: I don’t give a shit” Confused by her unusual speech pattern, Rossi throws a pointy glance towards her.

“Fine”, she once again sighs, knowing there is no other way to escape this situation. Not even the teenager’s sarcasm or pop culture can help her anymore.

Eagerly the team crowds around her desk, even Hotch is ready to get some good tea served. “I met them on the bus. Since I started here we rode the same bus every morning and afternoon. Their hair was the first thing I noticed about them. After a month I worked up the courage to talk to them.”

“And?” Morgan asks as (Y/N) doesn’t continue for several minutes. “I chickened out. No cap. But they chatted me up the next day and we are texting each other for several weeks now and we maybe have kind of our first date tomorrow and see each other for the last time today before the date and I want to leave a lasting impression maybe?” At the end she turns red. Like legit red, with tomato ears and stuff.

A loud squeal is heard. “OMG (Y/N) THIS IS SO CUTE I LITERALLY AM DEAD! OUR BABY IS FEELING LOOOOOVE! CLAP THOSE CHEEKS!” Although it seems impossible, she turns even redder at Penelope’s outburst.

“Ok, princess. I’m happy for you, but we need to meet them before you go with them anywhere. How old are they? What do they do for a living? What is their name? Garcia needs to make a background check”, Derek swivels her chair in his direction, looking the girl straight in the eye to make sure he is dead serious.

“Do they read? Emilia Clarke once said to never trust anybody, whose TV is bigger than their bookshelf, and I recommend you to follow that advice”, Spencer adds. “Can we help get you ready? I wanted to do a makeover for you for ages already”, Penelope throws in. JJ and Emily nod at that, showing that they too want to participate in this.

“Are you sure they are not basic, Bambi?” “Oh, Rossi. Never say that again. You are not allowed to talk like ever. Yes, I’m sure they got a cake and an even bigger heart. Before you also say anything complete out of line, Hotch: You all aren’t allowed to see them before I’m completely sure. Period. No complains.”

It’s safe to say that Aaron just needs to flash his doe eyes to convince (Y/N) that they indeed will meet their date before they go out together. I mean, who is better at delivering The Talk to a date than a bunch of (intimidating) profilers and a (even more intimidating) tech goddess?

Taglist:

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

[collidingxworlds]

@elisethetraveller​ [from HERE]

Modern times were always confounding whenever she happened onto them. There were cars and phones and all that stuff. However, the most bothersome thing was that besides the expected things there were also always new things. Customs, science, ideas, or some other thing she hadn't even thought to consider. Like this. Men in strange suits and masks with guns, shooting at a younger man in a uniform of sorts.

It had all happened rather instinctively, she had opened a door, letting the young man through, and a bullet seemed to have sneaked its way in alongside with him.

"Not that often..." Clutching her side the mage did her best to maintain pressure on the wound while also pushing against the heavy door. "Push that cupboard over here if you will be so kind?" Already the bleeding was diminishing, but that didn't mean she could do any hard labour. "I think you are okay for the moment, but whoever was after you will probably be back soon."

It was in times like these that Five wished that the Commission wasn’t so relentless when it came to hunt down and fix anything that stood in the way of how the event of history had to happen, at least from their point of view. Of course, that sort of deadly perseverance was exactly what allowed the organisation to be as successful as it was. Keeping the timeline on certain tracks took dedication, precision and wits.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that all this was a royal pain in his ass right now. And the pressure of knowing that, if he hadn’t figured out how to stop the Apocalypse, the world would have ended in a week didn’t help.

His last jump had brought him inside the corridor of some random condo, but he hadn’t managed to lose Hazel and Cha-Cha in the process and he had found himself out of juice, trying to avoid the discharge of the two agents’ weapons.

Diving in the first door that had opened, because someone had decided that taking a peek was the right sort of reaction to the sound of gunfire, had seemed his best and only choice. He hadn’t expected a stray bullet to follow him in and graze his oblivious saviour.

The Boy grunted, managing to move the cupboard in place as he had been told. Usually he wouldn’t have followed the direction of a stranger, but he needed to act fast. The duo shouldn’t have seen him, so hopefully they would have assumed that he had jumped again.

“You know, people usually hide when they hear fire arms going off,” he pointed out, not without a hint of sarcasm. “But it seems that you have a whole different habit. Don’t get me wrong, it was very convenient for me, but you might want to rethink it, if you want to stay alive.”

Five wondered briefly why the young woman had been so casual open to put her life at risk and also why she didn’t look freak out at all, even despite having been wounded, but he decided to discard those questions for the time being.

Instead he hissed, lifting a hand to press a hand against his thigh, where another bullet had cut through the flesh. “Any chance you have a thread and a needle? Some water would be great too.”

[logically-asexual]

Hold me like you mean it

summary:

Logan’s feelings for Virgil and the fact that now Virgil barely notices him are stopping him from getting any work done. Janus offers a way for Logan to cope, by disguising himself into Anxiety. but is this really what Logan needs? and what’s in it for Janus, anyway?

Alternatively, an angsty story about rejection, denial, and manipulation.

warnings: (for the whole fic) unrequited love, rejection, manipulation, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, dependency, dubious consent and non consent for kissing, sad ending, depression (vaguely described), angst in general, nightmares, self harm. let me know what else i should add.

taglist: @gummibearbullet @chara-07 @the-sympathetic-villain @whatishappeningrightnow

Read on AO3

Chapter 7

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words: 1007

Janus’ room was as dark as usual. From where they stood, Logan could discern a bed, a nightstand, and the other Side with him, who was still looking at him with pity, and now had his palm resting on his cheek.

“I’m fine, Janus.” Logan tried, but the trembling of his voice and the tears building up in his eyes betrayed his intentions. Logan turned his face upwards, hoping to both prevent the tears from escaping and get out of the other’s hold. However, Janus quickly caught his head and pulled it back down with his other hand. Its thumb moved to press against the corner of his eye, coaxing the drops of fluid to fall. Logan winced from the pain, but relaxed slightly when the same thumb soothingly wiped the tears away.

“Tell me the truth.” It wasn’t a question.

Logan swallowed, and avoided Janus’ intense gaze. “You heard him. They don’t care about me. I made the greatest effort, tried the best I could, drawing upon all the knowledge I have about them, and I still made things worse. I always do. They don’t want me... Virgil doesn’t want me, and it’s my own fault.” He attempted to stop his voice from cracking again, but it was becoming harder with every word. “But I knew that already, and I got what I wanted, didn’t I? They never invite me in, but they listen when I speak. I have less work to do now, since Thomas gave up on following deadlines or a schedule, I don’t even have to try to participate in their games.” He began to feel the pain of his nails digging into his palms. “They don’t need more of me, I can spend my time on my own without dealing with the others’ antics. I wanted this. Isn’t that enough? Why isn’t it enough?!” He looked pleadingly into Janus’ eyes, blurred by the liquid in his.

“Because you’re stupid, dear.” The contrast of his words and the soft caressing on his cheek was confounding enough to stop his sobs. “We’ve been over this so many times. You don’t need them. You’re better than that, and you already have me.”

Logan exhaled, pondering what Janus said. He was right, he had helped him more than anyone else.

“If they don’t want to reciprocate your efforts, then why try?” Janus’ sweet voice almost made him dizzy. “If what you provide for Thomas without being there physically suffices, then why go out and exhaust yourself like this? It’s not fair to you.”

Logan sniffled, turning his head back again towards the ceiling. This time, Janus let go of it and moved his hands to his shoulders instead. He breathed shakily for a moment, letting the other’s words sink in. Then, he sniffled once more, and fell into his arms, crying freely against Janus’ shoulder.

He didn’t remember the last time he cried, not like this, but he was grateful to have Janus by his side now. Such a display of vulnerability was hard to bear, but he felt relieved nonetheless, and trusted Deceit to care for him.

Janus gently moved them to sit on the bed, with him leaning against the headboard and Logan still on his shoulder, and took his glasses from his face to set them on the nightstand. They stayed like that for a while, Janus petting his head as Logan let go all the tears he had been holding back.

Logan thought about the list of effects he had noted from Deceit's room. There, Janus could control lighting, sounds, his own appearance and voice to make disguises even more convincing than outside, and even the others’ movements, turning them to look where he wanted them to or stopping them from talking. But he couldn’t control Logan’s feelings. He knew. He knew this was all his own.

Eventually, his sobs died out, and he was able to breathe steady again, feeling too weak to move. When Janus noticed this, he cradled his face in his hands once again, and guided it to meet his gaze.

“You will be alright, sweetheart. As long as you’re here, you are safe.” He punctuated the statement with a cold kiss on Logan’s forehead.

After a pause, he shifted his position to get a little closer, and pressed his lips delicately to each of his cheeks. The cool touch was a strong contrast to the warmth of Logan’s face, but in his dazed state, he made no move to stop him. Another pause. Logan closed his eyes, letting the last teardrops fall as Janus finally sealed their mouths together.

Logan tiredly kissed back, the way he had learned throughout the past couple months, and barely flinched when he felt Deceit’s forked tongue lick his lips. Without thinking, he opened his mouth, and felt his mind fog as he let him continue.

Janus wasn’t wearing a disguise, he reminded himself of that, but he found that he didn’t care. It had been a while already that he had wanted Janus more than he wanted the original object of his attraction, seeing through his mask, no matter how convincing. Logan just hadn’t fully accepted it, but it was evident. He liked his sarcasm, his determination, his sweet words, the way he would gently take Logan’s glasses off and tell him he didn’t need them when he was with him. The real Virgil he had been pursuing was nothing like that.

He raised his hand to carefully brush his fingers against Deceit’s scales, the sensation just as eerie as it was comforting. Without breaking the contact, Janus pushed him slowly to lay back on the pillow and kept kissing him, stealing his breath with every movement of his tongue.

Logan couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Janus finally pulled away, but he was too drained of energy to mind. He opened his eyes, and was met with complete darkness, now only able to feel the bed underneath him. He took a deep breath and gave in to slumber.

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notes: i had been daydreaming what happens here for months and it's what inspired me to write the entire thing lol. i hope you guys like it.

also check out this little drawing i made of this chapter 👀

[kookxin]

INTERVAL; jjk

Pair¬ Jungkook×(she)

Point of view¬ 3rd person

Genre¬ romance, fiction, comical, restaurant scenario

Synopsis¬ she was right at time when he was in need of a break from his shift.

Words¬ 1.2k

Weekends.

They have always been chaotic. Usually, the diner entertains about a total of 200-250 costumers per day, but that totally changes on the weekends, with around 450 to 500 costumers moving in and out of the diner.

Also, the fact that the diner's situated in a bustling mall only attracts more hungry costumers than a roadside restaurant would attract.

So here's Jungkook, stupified with the number of faces he's seen in just a day, and stultified with the boredom of doing exactly the same actions since the last 4 and a half hours, greeting, entering orders, and handing out bills.

Yup, freaking boring.

And yeah, he hasn't yet been able to get the hang of it, given it has just been 3 weeks since him joining in. What he'd imagined was a beautiful diner, furnished colorfully, nice coworkers, and happy and amiable costumers, tipping him every now and then. He was determined to at least once, receive the title of The Best Employee Of The Year. But when, some customers, all haughty and pompous, appear, almost every now and then, it's hard for him to keep up the smile. It's hard for him to control his urge to grab them by their nose, and make them smell the inside of their own shoes. Or on a milder note, smack them on the face, with a hot-and-spicy fried chicken leg.

Also, he'd imagined for him to get free snacks often, but of course he never thought of him having a manager who not only forbid him to even touch the chicken, but also who keeps an eye on him through the CCTVs.

A scowl makes way on his face, as he's reminded of that 'all-belly-no-button' man, as he's named him, and glances at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, imagining him to be seated behind the monitor scowling back at him.

He glunches even more, when a bunch of girls enter through the glass doors, faces caked with make-up, looking uglier than a decomposed chicken-wing.

The ticking of their heels is giving him a migraine. Literally.

Giggling on God-knows-what, they make their way to a vacant table, to settle down. But unfortunately, the girl leading the group drops her eyes on Jungkook, and immediately changes her path.

Jungkook groans, not-so-internally.

Said girl stands in front of him, twirling a strand of her hair around her fingers, fluttering her eyes at him, and he's suddenly grateful to the tall counter separating them.

High heels or not, the girl was still shorter than his mopper, and Jungkook scoffed at the thought.

"Hey." The girl says, leaning onto the counter, flashing to him what should remain in her clothes and out of his sight. Just what was needed to make his day better. (Kindly note the sarcasm.)

Freaking hoe.

He rolls his eyes, not-so-subtly, and then mutters out a 'what what you like to order?', keeping his eyes fixed onto her head, not wanting to look at her up this close. At least something which won't damage his vision.

"I was hoping that you'd let me know the speciality of this place. After all...someone like you would definitely have an awesome sense of taste, from what I see." She winks suggestively, running her eyes all over him.

Yup, pathetic.

A wave of pure and utter disgust washes over him. He doesn't even try to hide the grimace on his face, so done with the already crappy day.

"Uh, yea..." Instead of mingling with her, he simply goes on to fetch the menu card and gives it out to her.

Confounded at his lack of interest, or even response, she decides to retreat back to her seat with a scowl on her face.

A few minutes later after receiving their orders, Jungkook stands at the counter, spacing out yet again.

10.51 pm, the clock reads.

The diner rings with laughter and the noisy talking of the customers. His coworkers are to busy in their own worlds to bring him back to earth. Yoongi, the laziest employee of the building, dozes off on the other side of the counter, while Jimin is happily chatting away on the phone.

Yup, counter duty truly sucks.

His eyes snap back to the glass doors when they open, and someone steps in. It's a 'she'. She walks upto the counter, her boots silently ticking behind her, and she's clad in a black knitted top and blue faded jeans, her brown locks tied up in a messy ponytail.

She brings her long fingers to her half hidden face, pulling the dark mask down, and Jungkook's lips instantly curve up in a huge grin. Said girl smiles back, but gasps when she's suddenly pulled by her face into an excited kiss, and fails to hear the gasps and murmers that followed from behind her.

Pulling back, he continues to grin like a child at her, but glances behind her to smirk cockily at the literally burning girls who sit at the table nearest to the counter. His smirk turns into a genuine smile when his eyes find his girl's again.

Eyes not leaving her's, he calls out, "Hey Chim, can you fill in for me for 5?"

Jimin, who had, over his phone, watched the whole scene unfold, grumbles about something on how it would definitely go over 'just 5'.

Jungkook guides the girl to the end of the counter which still separates them, and leaves her to let her in, through the door having a sign 'only employees' hung over it. The door opens to a narrow corridor, dark with only the three doors, to the counterplace, to the kitchen, and to the break room, lighting it a bit.

He pulls her in hastily, and pins her to the wall. His eyes are lit up, twinkling again, as they did when he'd left their shared apartment for work. His smile is toothy, natural, and beautiful, erasing any scowls or frowns from earlier. His cheekbones lift with happiness and energy, and his nose crinkling with his large smile. He gleams, as if he's refreshed all over again.

She raises her fingers to his cheeks, stroking them lovingly, her own eyes shimmering at the sight of him, her love, her life.

He eliminates the gap between them and presses his lips on hers, and their bodies together. The kiss is urgent, like they've been deprived of each other since days, drinking each other in, as if the other one was their drug. His lips move fervently against hers, the air around them growing hotter by the second, and the dark atmosphere changing into something impassioned, fervid, and intense.

He pulls back, a bit breathless.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, between his heavy breaths, and she grins, yet answers shakily.

"I missed you, I wanted to see you, and I didn't want to wait."

He chuckles lightly, his voice deep and breathy.

"Well, you're right on time, and I love you."

He kisses her once again, deep and passionate, but this one's slow with precise moves.

They pull back again, chuckling against each other. The usually quiet corridor feels alive with the air energized with the passion the young couple shares, and gleaming with the radiance of their love.

°§°

All rights reserved ©

Do not copy storyline.

¬ Hajin

[illogicallyinclined]

so since remy is one of logans besties and so is virgil,,, how about some remy and virgil moments. sass and sarcasm go well together, dont they?

they are,,, magnificent

okay, so. obv Remy and Virgil have the love/hate/love/frustration dynamic that every goalie has with their D-men on the ice (esp because Virgil can sometimes be Hella Uncertain on a play, forcing Remy to Bail Him Out, which he Hates Doing), but off the ice i think they'd be p chill. 

Remy knows that Virgil’s anxiety isn’t his fault, but the constant worrying/second guessing can get a little tiring, esp when Remy's having a bad mental health day himself; having said that, a number of Remy’s interactions with Virgil can be summed up with this vine

but they also bond over mani-pedis and makeup, and Remy knows Virgil would kill for both him AND Logan on the ice, so there’s that

Remy’s also the first person on the team who has ever talked Virgil down from a panic attack (at Virgil’s first game, actually), and he teaches Virgil simple self care stuff that take little energy to carry out

all in all, while Remy and Logan very much have the dynamic of “big brother doting on his talented and (relatively) level-headed little brother,” Remy and Virgil lowkey have the dynamic of “ exasperated older relative attempting to counter the erratic and irrational thoughts posited by his neurotic cousin”

listen, Remy (not-so)-begrudgingly cares about Virgil, but if this emo gothic nightmare child tries to convince him that the apartment is haunted One More Time, Remy is going to punt him Into the Sun

(Virgil: someone’s probably died in this apartment before; Remy: say that again, and someone’s going to die in this apartment Right Now)

Virgil and Remy will 100% use their sass and sarcasm to dunk on one another, but at the same time, they’re weirdly protective of one another? like. Remy is allowed to say that Virgil’s eyeshadow makes him look like he died three days ago, but if anyone else so much as tries it, he will make them regret being born. and Virgil is allowed to say that Remy’s defining personality traits are “coffee and sunglasses,” but if anyone else insinuates that Remy is shallow, Virgil will figuratively burn them to the ground. that sort of thing.

Remy encourages Logan to subtly flirt with Roman because watching Roman get Destroyed is a gratifying experience in and of itself, but he also tries to wingman for Virgil for the Exact Same Reason 

lmao Remy convinces Logan to wear a crop top to Virgil and Emile’s joint birthday party, and Logan is confounded when Virgil takes one look at him, turns to Remy, and bluntly says “thank you"

Remy DOES snap at Virgil a bit more on the ice post concussion when the strain of being starting goaltender to a Tire Fire Team starts getting to him, and it strains their relationship a bit, but they talk it out when Virgil gets suspended 

all in all, 10/10 duo. love this. love them.

[greywindys]

I had a fic I was working on for 2Doc week, but it betrayed me and turned angsty when I wanted something softer. So instead, I thought I could share a fic I never published, and I believe the first fic I ever wrote (dated in Google as complete on June 17th, 2016. Holy moly!)

It fits into day 3′s prompt of firsts - the first night the spent together on good terms. The beginning of the bond, I guess. It could also be considered the first head massage (lmao), as I like to think 2D is good with his hands in various scenarios 😉. (I adapted the head massage into scenes in later fics, but this was the first time I worked with it as a concept.)

If there are any “M” or “D” I apologize! When I was starting out, I was too self-conscious to write their entire names (lmao @ me). Oh, how things have changed. Hopefully, I corrected them all, along with most of the typos...

The rating here is T. Essentially, Murdoc encounters 2D late at night when he can’t sleep, and ends up watching a movie with him. They begin to form a tentative bond, head massages are had as much needed sleep. Takes place during P1.

Also happy bday again, Murdoc 😭

For Murdoc, sleeping is a daunting game of chance. First, there are the good nights, when he drinks enough to remain in a complete stupor until daylight. Then, there are the bad nights when his body’s need for genuine slumber catches up with him. On these nights, he dreams. More often than not, they come to him in the form of nightmares ranging from painfully specific to vague and unsettling. Like a flood, all of the emotions and thoughts he had intended to leave behind in Stoke return.

Tonight is one of those nights.  

This one, in particular, is the reason he’s left the grimy safety of his Winne, head still aching. He intends to rummage through the studio mini-fridge for the half-consumed bottle of rum he started that morning. (after all, his anxiety wasn’t going to fix itself). Instead, he's thrilled to discover the fridge has been restocked, and he's about to grab an unopened bottle of rum when he's interrupted by a crash coming from the direction of the lobby.

The noise is coming towards the kitchen now in slow, shuffling steps. Murdoc presumes it could either be one of the wayward demons he summoned the other day, or it could be another one of the building's many intruders looking for a blank wall to vandalize. Nothing he wants to deal with now in his anxious state. Murdoc considers making a run for his Winnebago but decides against it. ‘You’re Murdoc Niccals” he thinks to himself, ‘Bass god and creative genius. You're not ten anymore and you don't get scared.' With that, he braces himself and he turns to face the unknown figure that was now in the doorway.

“Oh...Hi, Murdoc.”

It’s 2D.

“I've got half a mind to lob you through another car window,” he says trying to mask his surprise. “What the hell are you doing walking around with the lights off in the middle of the night?” That must have been the source of the noise. Typical. It’s as if 2D is intentionally searching for a way to get injured.

2D scratches his head. “No need to get so steamed up about it. I, uh, well, I guess I was trying to keep to the ambiance and all that. I didn’t think anyone else would be awake right now.”

“I don’t know what’s so unexpected. I get more done in a night that you would in a year,” Murdoc replies. He takes a sip of one of the bottles of rum he’s assembled on the counter. “So long as there are still songs to write, the siestas can wait.”

“Not sleeping well then?” 2D asks blithely. Murdoc can’t tell if the singer has seen right through him or failed to comprehend a word of what he just said. He finds him very unreadable at times, and in the most infuriating way.

“No. I was working. Being productive. You ought to try it once in a while,” Murdoc grumbles in response. “Anyways. What’s all this about the ‘ambiance’?” As if 2D is that deep. “And why here?”

“That new zombie movie, you know the one I was telling you about? Well, it arrived today,” 2D says with a grin. “And now I’m watching it. It’s a lot scarier when you do it the dark.”

“Well you have a TV, no, THREE TVs in your room,” Murdoc retorts, exasperated. “Just go away and watch it there.”

“Yeah, uh, l thought about that, but the special effects in this one are supposed to be wicked good and the screen in the lobby has a clearer picture than the screens in my room. I would have watched it this afternoon, but Russel said Noodle shouldn’t be watching all the blood and guts, so I waited until now. It’s better watching scary movies late at night anyway, you know?” 2D is looking at Murdoc now, a tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “A couple blokes on this forum I was reading were describing it like a Romero meets Raimi type film, really over the top.”

“Sounds like a real Oscar winner you have there,” the sarcasm in Murdoc’s voice is palpable.

“Actually, it was a straight to video release, but you should check it out,” 2D says. “I’m only about ten minutes in now...if you have...time,” he trails off awkwardly.

The band had faced many inexplicable and absurd situations, but it is 2D’s consistent attempts to be friends that confounded Murdoc the most. His first inclination to tell the singer to fuck off. Yet the thought of the solitary journey back through the car park gives him pause. He isn't sure he can handle being alone right now. He needs an immediate distraction, a mood lifter, and making fun of 2D has the potential to be a two in one solution. At the very least, it was a safer gamble than going back and running the risk of falling asleep again.

Murdoc makes 2D wait for an answer in uncomfortable silence before replying. “Fine,” he says, “This better be entertaining.”

2D brightens at his response. “Just let me grab some snacks and then we can go back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh, and this time turn on the damn lights.”

With some newly acquired light and a bag of crackers in hand, 2D leads Murdoc to the lobby. A collection of pillows and blankets litter the floor. All the while, and to Murdoc’s annoyance, he takes the time to tell him every detail of the conception of his setup. He had been in the lobby for the past four hours watching movies. According to 2D, doing so in such an open area was much scarier than in his room or even in the building’s cinema. He was also sorry because they would have to turn the lights off again when the film starts. “Because well, you know, Muds. The ambiance.”

“Just start the bloody movie will you,” Murdoc replies from his spot on the floor. The size of Kong is intimidating at night, and it’s not helping him calm down. He hates how much his dreams still affect him. Physically, he had left all the bad energy behind ages ago, but mentally it follows him like a low-hanging mist, threatening to completely engulf him daily. He couldn't seem to make it go away, but he could control how much he thought about it. Alcohol was typically his mainstay but right now, that job belonged to an unwitting 2D. If he didn’t start the movie soon, Murdoc was going to set his entire movie collection on fire.

“It’s the little triangle that does the trick, right?” 2D asks as he studies the remote. “Never mind. I think I have it. There we go.”

The scene starts with a group of young adults in their twenties hiking through the woods as night falls. Occasionally, the camera switches angles. It shows the group from alternate perspectives such as the bushes or the tops of trees.

“The director wanted to flip the whole slow zombie portrayal on its head,” 2D explains. “There’s already been talk of fast zombies in the indie horror community, but he wants to take that one step further. In an interview, he said that not only were his zombies going to be fast, but they were also going to fly.”

“That’s stupid. And you thought this was worth the twenty or so quid you blew on it?”

“He’s ahead of his time. You’ll see. Look,” 2D says through a mouthful of crackers. He points to the current scene. One of the protagonists had wandered away from his group in search of a good place to set up camp. “See what he does with the camera there? We’re watching the main character from the perspective of a flying zombie. The director wanted to make a movie about an outbreak that emerges in the wilderness, not because of some virus. It's meant to add to the impossibility of the situation. How do we fight against something not man-made? Watching the film through the eyes of the monster emphasizes how alone and insignificant we are in the face of well, everything. Man versus nature, nature versus man.”

Murdoc grabs the bag of crackers from 2D. “Oh please. This is hardly cutting edge. We all know they’ll all be dead in the end because nature is bigger than man. Duh.” He takes a handful for himself and continues watching.

2D ignores him and continues his reflection. “It makes me wonder whether it would be better to be a zombie at the end, rather than survive. Not sure I would want the loneliness that comes with it.”

Murdoc is beginning to realize that 2D is in one of his chatty, philosophical moods. He attempts to tune out the singer’s blathering with another drink from the bottle of rum he brought with him from the kitchen. He came here to watch a ridiculous movie. Instead, he's stuck listening to banal musings about the true nature of humanity from someone with a half-functioning brain.

“Well if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse here, I’ll be sure to let them eat you first if you’re so eager. You’re already halfway there anyway, and certainly no better off than these divs on screen.”

“Thanks, Muds. If I ever get infected, I’ll make sure not to bite you...unless you want me too,” 2D replies.

This time, it’s Murdoc's turn to ignore him. “Anyways, as far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s too pathetic to fight against a zombie apocalypse deserves whatever is coming to them.” He gets a twisted sense of comfort from blaming.

“I dunno...I don’t see any shame in being afraid of a monster bigger than you. That’s what makes these movies so scary. We all have our own monsters that seem impossible to overcome,” 2D says sagely. “It’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just how it is.”

Murdoc scowls. “Does watching movies at this hour always turn you into a half-braindead Socrates? Or Plato? Hippocrates? He's just naming names now. He fidgets.  

On-screen, another character screams as one of the zombies bites her arm.

“Are you alright there, Muds?” Why did 2D have to pick up on everything? “Movie too scary for ya?”

“No!” Murdoc snaps. “It’s not that… It’s just...” Neither 2D nor the rum he grabbed from the fridge earlier had done anything to dull his current bout of nerves. Instead, all the tension has been gathering at the base of his neck. The throbbing in his head from before is even worse. He groans in frustration.

“You just seem a little on edge, that’s all.”

“...It’s my head.”

“Oh, you have a headache,” 2D says, seemingly pleased that it’s an issue well within the breadth of his expertise. “Do you need any help with it? I was talking with my mum about mine just last week; she gave me something good.”  

Murdoc perks up. He could count on one hand the number of scenarios where he would place his trust in 2D. Pain medicine was one of them. A strong painkiller could change everything. “Do you happen to any of those buggers with you now?”

“Sure,” 2D says, smiling as he moves closer to where Murdoc is sitting.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m um, well for this to work I’m actually going to have to touch your head.”

Immediately, Murdoc jerks away. “You what?!”

2D shrinks back in response. “It’s just a head massage, Muds.  My mum’s worried about the number of prescriptions I have so we cut one of the stronger ones out and replaced it with this. We wanted to see if it made a difference. I’ve been going to a massage therapist for the past two weeks or so. It doesn’t quite do the trick but it works well enough, I picked up some technique myself, uh, I think.”

“You can take all that geeky zen rubbish and sod off,” Murdoc mutters.

“Okay, Muds...alright.”

They continue watching the screen as victim after victim gets infected. 2D continues to interject with overlong descriptions about symbolism, zombie lore, and film technique. Murdoc weighs his options. If he’s being honest, he’s at a point where he would accept anything that might make him feel better. But why did it have to be 2D? On the other hand, the singer wouldn’t stop talking. Considering it was just the two of them, and no one else would ever have to find out, Murdoc makes his decision. Allowing 2D to touch his head in this scenario was justified. Interrupting yet another explanation about the folly of man, he asks, “Hey uh...2D? You know that massage you were talking about? Will giving me one make you shut up for more than ten minutes?”

“Oh..uh,” 2D sounds surprised. “Yeah. Yeah, we can give it a try.” Hesitantly, he moves behind Murdoc and begins.

2D’s fingers send tiny sparks along Murdoc’s scalp as he kneads the muscles in his forehead, moving downwards along his hairline. He dwells on how amazing it feels but pushes that thought to the side with haste. He keeps his eyes locked on the screen and the excessive depictions of gore and chaos. It’s an apt representation of turmoil he is currently feeling inside. What he finds so maddening about 2D, even more than his inscrutability and empty-headedness, was his willingness to be kind to Murdoc. Murdoc had spent the past twenty or so years convincing himself that kindness was not meant to be a part of his life. There was something inherent to his existence that repelled it from him. And he had come to accept that until 2D had to come along and mess it all up. It had to be because he was just too stupid, there was no other answer. Murdoc wasn’t sure he would be able to handle any other answer.

As 2D moves his hands to the back of Murdoc’s head, he begins softly humming. He begins following along to the soundtrack of the movie but soon trails off on his own. Evidently, watching the movie without any sort of verbalization was not going to happen. However, the melody he’s come up with is wistful and soothing. Murdoc makes a mental note to ask him about it in the morning to see if it would fit with some lyrics he had drafting. Slowly, and a bit self-consciously, Murdoc feels himself begin to relax.

“How does it feel so far? Is it working?” 2D asks.

Oh, it was working. More than that, Murdoc realizes a significant amount of his tension had abated. The darkness of the lobby no longer looks so menacing, the unpleasant memories that were hovering over him seem to have floated away. He's never been able to settle himself down from a bad night without copious amounts of alcohol. It’s an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation.

“I think the movie is almost over. Didn’t quite live up to the hype but it was still pretty entertaining after all. How about you?” 2D asks, still looking for a response.

Murdoc yawns. “I’ll give this director you were so excited about some credit. He knows his way around a good death scene. I don’t think I’ve ever seen fake blood used that way before.”

“The fake blood actually cause a lot of controversies because some of it was real animal blood. I almost didn’t buy it myself.”

“Ah. A man after my own heart.” 2D’s hands are still kneading the back of his head when Murdoc moves to lie down on his stomach.

“Oh, are you going to sleep now?” 2D asks.

“No. Keep going.” He would have never considered it earlier in the night but, as the singer's fingers continue to run through his hair, Murdoc muses that sleep may not sound so bad after all. Even though it was just 2D, it’s comforting to have him there. 

“So I guess it’s been helping then? My mum will glad to hear,” 2D says. “But you might want to run a comb through your hair a bit more often, it’s all greasy...also a bit tangled in the back.”

“Just...shut up.”

So he does, returning to the reflective melody he had been humming just minutes ago. It’s the singer’s soft croon that sticks in Murdoc's mind as he finally drifts off completely.

-------

When his eyes open, the first thing Murdoc notices is the half-empty bottle of rum he had left by his side. The next thing he notices is that he's still in the lobby, surrounded by blankets. He must have slept there the entire night. 

“Oh, morning, Muds,” comes a familiar voice just to the right of him. “You’re awake.”

Turning quickly in the direction of the voice, Murdoc finds himself face to face with 2D. “What the hell are you still doing here?” M demands, mortified, “Why didn’t you go back to your own room?”

“Well, I was going to do that, but once you laid down, I wanted to lay down too, and you rolled over on my arm and wouldn’t budge. I tried to tell you, but all you did was try and elbow me. You missed though,” 2D mumbles. It sounds like he’s still half asleep. “Then I guess I just nodded off.”

Murdoc feels his embarrassment beginning to morph into anger but decides to ignore it. He's pretty comfortable right where he is. “You’re lucky you’re my lead singer.” 2D was also lucky that he gave good head massages. “Because otherwise, you would be on some really thin ice right now.”

“We’ll be lucky to see any ice at all this winter what with all the warm weather.”

Usually, an obtuse response from 2D would have earned him a string of insults or a swat on the head. Today was not going to be one of those days. Murdoc turns again so that he’s facing away from the singer, pulling the blanket over his head to block out the light. He was going to savor the moment a bit longer. Despite 2D being 2D, it’s rare that he’s ever felt so at peace.

“Hey, Murdoc? Wait,” 2D says, “You never gave me my arm back.”

“Too bad. I’ll check back in a couple hours,” Murdoc grins beneath the blanket. He still couldn’t pass up a chance to inconvenience the singer at every opportunity. It was too much fun.

“Don’t be such a wanker,” 2D says as he attempts to jerk his arm out from underneath the bassist. “I was nice to you!”

He was right. And he was probably nicer than he deserved, given their history. For that reason, Murdoc would roll off his arm soon enough. He still wanted to talk to him about that song he had been humming.

The singer had surprised him last night. Murdoc knew that 2D had an uncanny ability to figure out how to annoy him to maximum effect, but he never would have expected him to also know what to do to put him at ease. Underneath the covers, he ponders what exactly this realization means to him. He isn’t sure, but he knows it means something. It wasn’t going to eliminate the underlying resentment he still clung to, nor was it going to solve his infinite list of issues. But at the very least, he could rest assured knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.