#very few of you have referred to me as autistic

[fuck-john-calvin]

Jon: *describing what he was like when he was younger, explaining why it was hard to raise him*

Me: Oh. wow. No, that's me exactly. I- I didn't know other people were like that. Nice to know I'm not the only one.

Me: ...

Me: GUYS I'M NOT AUTISTIC. STOP

[lacefuneral]

fixed it:

Love how ADHD, autism and schizophrenia objectively have the same amount of traits and experiences in common, but schizophrenics aren't welcome in the metaphorical club house because they're bad for the image the neurodivergency movement is currently trying to capitalize on and with "love" I mean fuck y'all

[jetii]

Infinite Possibilities of the Universe

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader / Tech x Jedi!Reader

Words: 9,466

Tags/Warnings: angst with a happy ending, grief/death/mourning, brief description of anxiety attack/autistic meltdown, reader is referred to as Sarad

Summary: You fell on Kaller, and Tech is the only one who can't let you go. But he knows what the others don't: you're alive, and you're coming back to him. All he has to do is be patient.

A/N: This is sad right up until the end I'm sorry. Thank you @baddest-batchers for the prompt!

Dantooine’s sun shone down on the fields, glinting off of the armor and helmets of the Batch as they relaxed in the afternoon rays. Wrecker and Omega had run off a few hours ago to go find some animal or another, so it was just the boys and a few crates of spare parts that needed to be sorted and put away.

They were in no hurry, and so Hunter and Echo took up a spot by one of the few Blba trees around for miles and started going through the boxes, pulling out pieces that they could repair and reuse, setting aside what needed to be scrapped. It was mindless work, and so it wasn't long before they started up a game of saigok to pass the time.

Tech, as always, was holed up inside the Marauder. The rest of the squad could hear him tinkering around in there, and had learned to tune out the quiet sounds of clinking and clicking from inside.

This time, though, Echo heard the quiet murmur of his voice, and glanced over at Hunter.

The Sergeant was leaning back against the tree, arms folded and legs stretched out in front of him, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight. He looked perfectly at peace, but Echo knew that he was very much aware of everything that was going on around him.

And yet he hadn’t said anything.

Echo frowned and turned to look over his shoulder, but all he could see was the open ramp of the Marauder, the top of which was hidden by a row of tall, green plants.

He turned back to his game with Hunter, trying to concentrate on the board and the pieces, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was amiss.

It didn't take him long to lose his second piece. Hunter, ever the tactician, didn't comment on it, and so the two played on, both lost in their own thoughts until Echo couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

"Do you think Tech's alright?"

Hunter opened his eyes, looking at Echo. His expression didn't change, but he sat up straighter. “I'm sure he's fine."

Echo wasn't convinced. "He's been up there for a while. I don't think I've ever seen him this quiet."

Hunter shrugged. "He's probably tinkering with his new project, the one he keeps in his bunk."

"But—“

"I can hear him talking," Hunter interrupted, closing his eyes again. "He's just not talking to us. You know he does that sometimes."

“That's not the point." Echo looked back over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Tech was doing. "Something doesn't feel right."

Hunter was quiet for a moment, and then let out a sigh. “He’s talking to her.”

"Who? Omega?"

"No."

Echo thought back over the past months. He'd overheard Tech muttering to himself several times, but it was never about a her, as far as he could tell. Then it hit him.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"But she's—“

"I know," Hunter said. He sighed again and shifted, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back against the trunk. “But that's how Tech copes. He talks to her. She's not gone, not for him."

Echo wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, and so he didn't. Instead, he got to his feet and headed over to the Marauder.

Inside the cockpit, he could see the back of Tech's head as he sat in the pilot's seat. The door was open, and so Echo didn't feel the need to announce his presence. He walked down the hall, listening closely.

"—and the power converters in the shield generators have been giving me trouble lately. I'll need to do a more thorough investigation soon."

Echo ducked next to the wall of the cockpit, listening. Tech was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little softer.

"You would love this planet, Sarad. There are hundreds of new species of creatures and flora to document. It's very beautiful here. You would enjoy the sunshine."

Echo felt a sharp pain in his chest. It wasn't just his mechanical parts, though those often ached with phantom pains, especially when it rained. This pain was different, and it made him pause. Your loss had hit them all hard, and even now, months later, he could feel the lingering effects.

Tech had taken it the hardest. Your relationship hadn't been a secret, and he'd spent nearly every waking hour with you when he could. And then...

Don't, he told himself, pushing the memories away. Just don't.

But he couldn't stop himself from looking up, his gaze landing on the little shelf that hung above Tech's bunk. On it among the scattered parts and tools sat a little model ship, a small clay flower, and a holo-pic.

It was a photo of the six of them, back on Coruscant, when things had been simpler. You were sitting on a crate, legs crossed, hands on your knees, a grin on your face. The others were gathered around you, and you couldn't tell by their smiles how much you had begged and pleaded with them to sit still for five minutes.

"What's the point of taking a holo-pic if we aren't going to smile?"

"A holo-pic isn't worth the hassle."

"Come on, it'll be fun! Tech, come here. I want you to be in it, too."

"But I'm busy."

"Please? For me?"

"...Very well."

Tech wasn't even looking at the camera, he was too busy watching you.

You had noticed, and you had reached over and gently nudged his arm, and the holo-pic captured the moment perfectly.

After the click of the camera you had jumped to your feet, excitedly showing off your own copy. Tech had tried to act indifferent, but Echo had noticed him looking at it often, and more than once had caught him smiling softly as he did so.

It had been Omega who suggested that the photo be added to the little shelf, despite never knowing you. And after a little persuasion from the rest of the crew, Tech had finally relented.

And now the picture was tucked into a frame next to the little clay flower you had made, the ship hanging above it. They were the only two things on the shelf that didn't belong to Tech, and they were the two things that Echo had never seen him without.

Echo hadn't thought much about it, but the memory was suddenly crystal clear. Tech, his arm around your waist, a soft smile on his face. The look in his gaze was unmistakable.

He loved you.

And now he was never going to see you again.

Echo looked away, swallowing the lump that rose in his throat. He didn't want to intrude any more than he already was, and so he retreated back down the ramp.

When he got back to the tree, Hunter had abandoned their game and was now sitting cross legged, elbows resting on his knees. He watched Echo approach and raised his eyebrows.

"Well?"

Echo sighed and sat down. "You were right."

"What did he say?"

Echo looked down, picking up a loose twig and turning it over in his hands. "Just...talking to her. About what they would do, if she was here."

Hunter didn't reply, and so Echo continued, "She'd like it here. It's peaceful. No wars."

He could feel Hunter's eyes on him, but kept his own eyes on the twig, running his thumb over the smooth bark.

"He's still waiting for her."

"I know."

Echo sighed. He hated not knowing what to do, especially when it came to Tech. "I wish he would talk to us about it. She's been gone for nearly four months. You'd think he would have let her go by now."

Hunter shook his head. "You and I both know that he's not going to let her go. Not as long as there's a chance she's still out there."

"But there isn't a chance," Echo pointed out, "He saw her fall, didn't he?"

"That's not what he believes."

"Why not?"

"You know why not," Hunter replied. "She was the only person who saw the galaxy the same way he did. They understood each other, and not in the way that we do."

"So what, we just let him go on thinking that she might still be out there? It's not good for him, you have to know that."

Hunter didn't respond right away.

"Tech knows what he's doing," he said finally. "If he wants our help, he'll ask for it. For now, we have to respect his boundaries. And that means no talking about her, not even in passing. If Tech wants to think that she's still out there, then that's what we have to let him believe. That's how he copes."

Echo wasn't thrilled, but he didn't want to go against Hunter's wishes, and so he stayed silent. He turned his attention back to the box of spare parts, and for a while the two of them worked in silence. But every once in a while, Echo would glance up at the Marauder and the tiny figure that was hunched over the navicomputer.

He knew that Hunter was right. There wasn't much that he could do to help. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Tech stared at the datapad in his hand, but his mind wasn't really on the screen. Instead, his thoughts were turned towards the planet outside and the sun-soaked fields that he had left his brothers in. He knew that it was a beautiful day, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and go out there.

Not while Sarad wasn't with him.

His fingers tightened around the edges of the datapad, knuckles turning white. A sudden surge of anger coursed through him, and he wanted nothing more than to hurl the datapad across the cockpit, but he managed to reign it in and set the device down on the console, his grip still tight.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much, having to spend this day alone. The anniversary of your first meeting had never seemed like a big deal to him before. Of course, that was because you had been there. Now, though, with nothing but empty space between him and the rest of the galaxy, he had never felt so isolated.

He had been trying to distract himself, but none of his usual tinkering projects could hold his attention. Nothing seemed to be able to block out the emptiness, and his anger.

Tech had never liked anger. It was messy, unorganized, and dangerous. It had been a long time since he had last felt the full force of his anger, but now it was back, and it was worse than before.

Because, unlike before, his anger was mixed with grief.

You had talked about it once, when you were lying in his bunk, curled up against each other, your head tucked against his neck, fingers tracing absent patterns over his chest.

"What would you do, if something happened to me?"

He had frowned, not understanding why you would ask him such a thing. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Just pretend," you'd insisted. "If I were gone, what would you do?"

He had tried to imagine it, and the thought had sent a chill down his spine. He had never felt that way about someone before, and the thought of losing you was too terrible to even consider.

"I'd find you," he'd said.

"But what if you couldn't?"

"That is not possible. There is no place that you could go that I would not follow. Even if we were separated by the entire galaxy, I would still find a way."

"Tech, come on. Pretend with me. If you couldn't find me, and you thought I was gone, what would you do?"

He had considered your words for a moment, then answered, "I would keep looking. You wouldn't leave me. Not without telling me first."

You had lifted your head, a small, sad smile on your lips. "How do you know that?"

"I just do."

The look in your eyes was indecipherable. "You can't know that. There are no guarantees, Tech. If I'm gone, then I'm gone. I'm part of the living Force, and eventually I'll return. You can't stay stuck on me. You'll have to move on, one way or another."

He hadn't liked that idea. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of her being gone.

"No."

"Tech..."

"No," he'd said, more firmly this time. "You wouldn't leave. You wouldn't. And I will always find you."

Your eyes were shining, and he didn't understand.

"Why are you talking about this?" he'd asked. "There's no reason for you to leave. You'll stay with us."

"You don't know that. There's a war, Tech, anything could happen."

"No."

"But—"

"We are not talking about this anymore." He'd said, cutting you off. He couldn't bear to think about it, and he was beginning to feel uneasy. You were the first person who had ever cared about him, and the idea of losing you was unfathomable.

"But—"

"Stop," he'd said, more harshly than he'd meant to.

You'd stopped, staring at him. Then, slowly, your head had lowered, and you'd pressed your face against his neck again.

"I'm sorry," you'd said quietly.

"It's alright," he'd replied, feeling bad about the way he had snapped at you. He hadn't meant to get angry, but the thought of losing you was terrifying. He needed you.

You'd pulled yourself closer, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as tightly as you could. He'd hugged you back, and the two of you had laid there together, and eventually, you had fallen asleep. 

Tech lied awake that night, staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine what it would be like if you were gone.

He hadn't been able to do it.

And yet, here he was, barely keeping a tight grip on his emotions, the ache in his chest threatening to consume him.

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

Tech had always tried to accept things as they were. It was easier, and he had never found it worth the effort to question his reality. Sarad, though, had been different.

Sarad had never accepted the world as it was. You had never allowed yourself to settle for things that were. And so you had changed everything, just by being there. But now you were gone. And so the galaxy, and his life, had returned to its previous state.

Tech's eyes burned, but he was able to keep the tears at bay. It was the same way that he had done every day since you fall.

It isn't fair, he thought again. It isn't fair.

If only you were here, Sarad. You could fix this. You could fix anything.

His thoughts drifted back to his brothers, who were undoubtedly wondering what was wrong with him. He knew that they had questions, but they would never ask him. They had an unspoken agreement to never talk about you, and while he appreciated their respect, he couldn't help but wish that they would break it, just this once.

Then maybe he wouldn't have to sit here alone, the cockpit cold and dark around him, as he tried to keep his anger under control.

Sarad would have known what to do.

A memory surfaced, and for the first time in months, he let it come.

It had been early in the morning, and they had been on an unknown planet, waiting for a storm to pass before they could leave. They had all been asleep, except for Sarad, who had decided to go outside to get some air. You had asked him if he wanted to come with you, and so the two of you had stepped outside into the cool darkness.

The storm clouds had blocked out the stars and the moonlight, and it was pitch black outside. You had held onto his arm, and he had kept a hand on the blaster at his hip, as neither of them could see more than a few feet in front of them. And when you were far enough away from camp, you stopped.

"Isn't it amazing?"

Tech had looked at you. "What is?"

"The universe," you said, staring up at the sky. "All the planets, and the stars, and the endless possibilities."

"It's certainly a vast place," Tech had replied, "but what exactly makes it amazing?"

"The fact that it exists."

"Many things exist. Most people wouldn't find that particularly exciting."

"True," you had said. "But it's different when it comes to the universe."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I suppose I could compare it to an individual," you had mused, "If you had lived your whole life knowing only the inside of one small house, and then suddenly you found out that there was a whole galaxy beyond it, wouldn't you be excited to see the stars?"

"I would be curious, yes."

"I feel the same way, but with the universe. Every time I look up at the stars, I know that there are millions of other planets, with thousands of other species. The sheer chance of a person like me existing in a place like this is astounding. So many things have had to go just right, and even then, the probability of my being here, now, is almost infinitesimal."

"The chances of a life such as ours are incredibly slim," Tech had agreed.

"I think that's what makes it special."

"What do you mean?"

"The universe is infinite," you had explained, "So the chances of my ever meeting someone from another part of the galaxy are infinitesimally small. But because the universe is infinite, that means that there are an infinite number of possibilities. And so there's a possibility that we could meet, that we could work together. The chances are so slim that they're practically nonexistent, but the possibilities are infinite."

"I don't know that I would have ever thought about it that way."

"Well, then, maybe we could explore the infinite possibilities of the universe together," you had suggested with a shrug of your shoulder. "It'll be fun. Just the two of us."

"And what if our infinite possibilities are limited to the confines of a single ship?"

"That would be fine," you had told him, smiling. "As long as we're together, then it doesn't matter where we go."

The memory ended there, and Tech blinked, realizing that his vision was blurry. A single tear had escaped his control, and he reached up and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

He missed you.

There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many words that had never been said. There was so much that you had left unfinished, so many plans and ideas that you had yet to accomplish, and now he feared it was too late.

Tech turned his focus back to his datapad, scrolling through the files. He stopped on one in particular, and for a moment, just looked at it.

Then he hit play.

It was a video, recorded shortly after his brothers had left you alone for the night. He hadn't been sure why he had made it at the time, but looking back now, he could see the reason. He had wanted to remember you.

The video began to play, and his breath caught in his throat as he watched you, bathed in the pale light of the computer, eyes shining as you spoke. You looked at the camera, and for a moment, Tech felt as though you were looking straight at him.

He couldn't hear the words, not anymore. But he knew them by heart, and so his mouth moved silently as he watched the recording, committing every moment, every gesture, every expression to memory.

“What are you doing?” Sarad asked, looking at the camera.

Tech had shifted, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"Just...recording."

"Recording what?"

"This," he had answered, gesturing around him. It hadn’t been a very good answer, and you had laughed.

"Why?"

"To...to document our trip."

"That sounds very scientific."

"It is."

"Well, I don't really understand," you had replied, "But I suppose you could always explain it to me later."

"I'll have to. I'm sure you'll have plenty of questions."

"Then you'll have to tell me everything," you had said. "And don't leave anything out. I want to know every detail."

"That will take quite a while."

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Perhaps," you had replied. Then, smiling, "Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

"Then perhaps I will tell you," he had said.

You had smiled, and he had smiled back.

"I look forward to it."

When the video ended, he started it again, watching the familiar image, memorizing the way your hands moved and the curve of your smile and the brightness of your eyes. He watched it until his eyes burned, and then he watched it once more.

And when the pain became too much, and the anger rose up and threatened to overwhelm him, he played it again, and again, and again.

And eventually, the pain subsided, and the anger was pushed aside, and all he felt was you.

"I look forward to it," the recording said.

"I do, too," Tech murmured.

“You’ll have to tell me everything.”

"Then we'll just have to spend a lot of time together."

He could see the love in your eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t even considered the possibility. But looking back now, the memory of your love was so clear, and it took his breath away.

"Yes, I suppose it is. I would like to spend a lot of time with you, Tech."

He watched the video once more, and when it was over, he closed the tab and stared at his reflection in the blank screen.

He could still feel the anger, but it had lessened, and was no longer directed at the universe. It was, instead, aimed at himself.

You should have known, he thought, his fingers tightening around the edges of the datapad. You should have seen the signs. You should have said something.

It isn’t a logical thought. He couldn’t have known what would happen on Kaller and everything that followed, and he had had no reason to believe that anything would change.

And yet, his mind was convinced that he had missed something, that he could have prevented you from ever leaving his side.

It isn't logical, but he still feels it.

Slowly, his grip on the datapad eased, and he turned his attention back to his reflection. He saw his eyes were rimmed with red, and his hair was tousled from where he had run his hands through it.

Sarad would have liked that.

You would have teased him for his messy hair, and then you would have smoothed it out and laughed. You would have been the only person he would have let do something like that.

His hands were shaking, and he took a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

It will pass, he told himself. It will pass. I will see her again. It will pass.

He repeated the phrase over and over in his mind, letting the words fill him and block out the anger. He had lost you, but you weren't gone. Not forever. 

There, buried in the scores of data files and programs that made up his datapad, was the last message he received from you. Dated nearly three months ago, it was heavily encrypted, and he’d required a cypher to unlock it.

Inside, there was a simple message:

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Tech had spent the first month after Kaller trying to decipher the message. It had taken him days, but when he finally figured it out, the words had been like a lifeline. There were no coordinates, and no indication of where you had gone. All Tech had was your promise, and his belief that you would always keep your word. He knew that the message was a risk, but you had known that he would never stop looking, and so you had sent him something to hold on to, and it had been enough.

He had held onto your words since, keeping them close to his heart. He had read the message hundreds of times, and had never gotten tired of it. And whenever he felt lost, or alone, or angry, he would read it once more, and allow the words to guide him back.

They were a promise, and so he would wait.

He would wait, and when you came back to him, he would be ready. He would never let you go. 

Then, as the sun began to set outside, he put the datapad aside and looked up. Outside the window, the stars were beginning to appear. And, he thought, if his infinite possibilities were limited to the confines of a single ship, then he would spend the rest of his life traveling with you.

And so he turned the lights off and sat in the dark, the stars reflecting in his goggles as he gazed out at the galaxy.

And he waited.

Tech waited until the others had fallen asleep before settling into the cockpit. He didn't want any distractions, just as he didn’t want his brothers to worry. They would, though, even without him saying a word. They were good at that.

He didn’t mind, though. He only wished he could tell them the truth. But it wasn’t his secret to share. They wouldn’t believe him anyway, he knew, and so it was better this way.

So, when the lights were out and the engines had quieted, he slipped away from the bunks and down the hall, taking his place at the pilot's seat.

He sat down and leaned back, getting comfortable before he took out his datapad and typed in the code. A single message appeared on the screen, and Tech read it one more time, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"I'm safe, and I'm alive. I'll find you again. No matter what happens, I love you. Sarad."

Satisfied, he closed the message and lifted his hand to the recording device on his goggles, and started a new file.

"Hello Sarad. Today, we logged a total of 17 hours in hyperspace, which brings our total log to 18,802 hours. The others have grown tired of counting, but I have continued the process. In fact, I believe we will be able to exceed 20,000 hours by the end of the year."

Tech paused, and then took a deep breath.

"There isn't much to report today, and so I have decided to share a few memories. First, I would like to remind you of the time we were stranded on Mygeeto, when we got lost in the mountains and spent three days trying to find our way back to the others."

Tech smiled, remembering the snow and the cold and the laughter. It was the first time the two of them had ever argued, but by the end of it, they were laughing so hard she could barely walk.

"I recall that I had told you several times to wear warmer clothing," he went on, "but you had insisted that the extra layers would hinder your movement. I am pleased to report that you eventually listened, although not until the second day, and the result was that you had to wear half of my gear and could hardly move without assistance."

He smiled at the memory, and then continued, detailing the various mishaps and misadventures of that mission. “You didn't mind, though, and you even thanked me. I have never heard anyone thank me for being right before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

He paused, and his voice grew quiet.

"You were the first to admit that you had been wrong, and the first to apologize. That was something else that I hadn't experienced before. Your apology was accepted, of course. I never held the incident against you, and I have never been able to be mad at you for more than a few minutes. That hasn't changed, either."

Tech sighed and adjusted his glasses.

"We're almost to our destination. The others are asleep, and the ship is quiet. I know you would enjoy the peace and quiet. There's no sound quite like the hum of the engines, and the silence of space."

He fell silent, thinking about what he wanted to say next. He took another breath, and his next words were spoken almost reverently.

"I miss you, Sarad. I hope you are well. I know that you will contact me when you are ready, and I am confident that it will be soon. But until then, I will keep the record, and I will share it with you when you return. For now, though, I will wait.

"I love you, Sarad. And I will see you soon."

And, his eyes fixed on the stars outside, he reached up and switched off the recording.

For a while, he just sat there, staring out the window at the stars. They blurred, and he blinked, the tears gathering on his eyelashes. He wiped them away, and then looked down at his hands. They were still shaking, and he curled them into fists, trying to stop the tremors.

Eventually, the shaking stopped, and Tech looked up at the stars again. He didn't know why he was shaking, or why his hands were sweating, or why his throat felt so tight.

Perhaps it is because I am afraid, he thought.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but it was true.

He was afraid, because he didn't know when, or even if, you would contact him again. He didn't know if he would see you again. And even if he did, he didn't know what would happen.

So many questions, and so few answers.

He was used to working with facts, but he was finding that this situation was lacking. And that meant that he didn't know what would happen.

It was frightening, the not knowing.

Tech was used to being in control. It was his job, as the technician and navigator of the team. He had to know how to fix things, and when to do it, and where. But he had no control over you, and no control over the galaxy, and no control over the future.

And that scared him.

But then, suddenly, he remembered something you had said to him, long ago, on a different planet and a different day.

You'd asked him about a strange phenomena occurring on the horizon, and he had floundered in his answer. The best he could ascertain, it was some sort of magnetic field, caused by a large mass of rock below the surface. He hadn’t been certain, and it had bothered him.

He had been frustrated, but you had only smiled and placed a hand on his arm.

"That's okay," you'd told him. "It doesn't have to have an explanation. It can just be. If we try to figure out the cause of everything, we won't have time to enjoy it.”

He had tried to argue, but had eventually given in.

"Besides," you'd added, "I'd rather spend time with you, and not on finding the answer.”

Your words had surprised him, and for a moment, he hadn’t been able to respond.

"You...want to spend time with me?"

"Of course I do," you had replied.

"But...why?"

"Because I love you."

He'd been speechless.

"Oh," he'd said.

You'd laughed, and he had been able to do nothing but stand there and stare at you.

"I'm sorry," you had said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no," he had managed. "It's...I'm fine. Just...you..."

"Love you?"

"Yes."

"I do."

"Oh."

Tech had had no idea how to respond. The words didn't seem real. But when you had smiled, and reached for his hand, he had finally begun to understand.

"I'm sorry," you had apologized again. "I've wanted to say that for a while, but I wasn't sure how. I thought that you would find it odd."

“You are odd, yes," he had agreed, "but not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

"I find you to be odd in a pleasant way," he had explained. "You're...different. In a good way."

"That's very poetic, coming from you."

"I was not being poetic," he had corrected you. "I was simply stating the truth."

Sarad had laughed again. "So what is it, then?"

"You are unique," he had told you. "There is no one else like you. You are an anomaly, and a rare one at that. I am glad to have met you."

You had been quiet for a moment.

"I'm glad, too," you had said.

And then you had kissed him, and he had felt something new and exciting and wonderful.

"I love you," you had murmured.

He had been unable to say the words back, but he had known that he would say them one day. And, after that, every day.

And so he had kissed you, and the two of you had watched the lightshow together, and it had been perfect.

Tech looked up at the stars now, remembering the way the sky had glowed, and the warmth of your hand on his arm.

That was where his memory ended. But the words came back to him, and he found himself repeating them.

"I love you," he whispered.

The words seemed small and insignificant compared to the vastness of space, and the galaxy, and all the planets and stars beyond. But they were real, and they were true, and that was all that mattered.

They were real, and so were you.

And the not knowing was terrifying, but Tech was patient. He would wait, and he would see you again. And the words would mean more then, because he would be able to say them, and you would hear them, and everything would be alright.

Tech believed in the infinite possibilities of the universe, and this was his.

This was his, and so he would wait, and he would remember, and he would know that the words were true, and someday, he would say them to you again.

Every day, Tech waited for a signal.

And every day, there was nothing.

His patience began to wane, and every time the Marauder made a stop, he would search the area for a sign, a clue, anything that would lead him to you. But he never found anything, and he would have to go back to the ship empty-handed.

His recordings to you were becoming short, and less frequent. He couldn't hide the bitterness and disappointment from his voice, and so he recorded fewer messages.

He didn't know why you hadn't contacted him. Maybe it was because you didn't want to.

But no. You loved him.

He didn't want to consider the alternative.

You loved him. You wouldn't have left him.

Would you?

He didn't know, and that scared him.

What if you didn't want to see him? What if you had found someone else?

What if you had realized that you were better off without him?

No.

You loved him. You would never leave him. Not forever.

And yet, he was beginning to wonder.

What if it had been a mistake? What if he had been wrong, and you weren't safe, or alive?

No.

You were alive. You had to be.

And yet, as the days wore on, he found himself doubting.

The distance between them was supposed to keep her safe, but maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe something had happened. Maybe you had changed your mind.

He tried to reassure himself. You were a capable Jedi, and if anyone could handle themselves in the face of danger, it was you.

But the longer you were gone, the harder it was to convince himself that you were still alive.

It didn't help that he hadn't received a single message since that first one. He'd had no word, no hint of your location, or condition, or state of mind.

It was frustrating, and he hated it.

He hated the waiting, and the uncertainty.

And so, as the months went by, and the number of his messages began to dwindle, his doubt grew. Much had changed in his life in the last months. They’d stopped fighting, stopped running, and had moved on to a new place to call home.

They had moved on, and so had he.

Well, most of him.

Some part of him was still waiting, and some part of him was still looking for a sign, for a message, for anything that would let him know that you were alive.

And, as the months went by, he realized that this wasn't going to change.

So he recorded one final message.

"Hello, Sarad. I know that this will be the last recording I make, as I am unsure when, or if, you will ever return. But I want to assure you that I am doing well, and so are my brothers.

"We are settled on a planet called Pabu, and we are all enjoying the peace and quiet. I know that you would enjoy the atmosphere here, as well. The sunsets are particularly beautiful, and I can't help but wonder if you have seen any yourself."

He paused, his throat constricting slightly.

"I miss you," he said quietly. "But I hope that you are happy, wherever you are. I know that it isn't fair of me to ask, and I don't expect an answer, but I do wish you would tell me.

"Tell me if you are safe. Tell me if you are well. Tell me if you have forgotten me. Please, Sarad, just tell me something. Anything."

He was quiet for a moment, and then shook his head.

"But you won't answer, will you? And you won't tell me. And so I will have to move on. It is the logical thing to do, and I am certain that it will benefit me greatly."

Tech fell silent again. His throat felt dry, and his eyes were burning. He didn't know why, but it was getting hard to breathe.

"I want to apologize," he continued, "for being so impatient. And I want to tell you that I don't blame you, and that I still care for you, and that I understand if you have chosen to forget me. But I want to thank you for the time we spent together. It was an experience unlike any other, and I am grateful for it. I will not forget you, Sarad. I hope that you will not forget me."

Tech's hands were trembling, and he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

"I hope you are well. And, if we never meet again, I wish you luck. I wish you happiness. And, most of all, I wish you peace."

Tech paused, and then, in a small voice, added:

"I love you."

The last message uploaded to his datapad, and Tech stared down at the file, his heart aching. He could feel the tears beginning to fall, and he wiped them away angrily.

Why was he crying? There was no reason to.

But still, the tears continued, and Tech let them come. He would cry for Sarad, and for the life that he would never have with you. He would cry for the love that he had lost, and the pain that he had endured, and the hope that had slowly died inside him.

And, when his tears were spent, he would close the file, and he would put his emotions aside, and he would move on.

He would have to.

Because that was the logical thing to do.

Tech looked up, and the stars were blurred by the tears. He blinked, and the image cleared.

He would have to move on.

He would have to, but not yet.

His finger hovered over the message, and then he pressed delete.

The file disappeared, and Tech watched the screen for a moment, the only sound the beating of his own heart.

He would have to move on, but not yet.

Not tonight.

Not while the sky was so full of stars. Not while the night was so quiet, and the wind so gentle, and the grass so soft beneath his feet.

Not while the memories were so clear.

Tech leaned back against the cool metal of the ship, his eyes fixed on the stars, and he let his thoughts drift.

He remembered the way you had looked at him, and the way you had touched him, and the way you had loved him. He remembered the way your hair had shone in the starlight, and the way your hands had felt against his skin. He remembered the way your lips had tasted, and the way your arms had held him, and the way your laughter had sounded, so sweet and joyful and free.

And he remembered the way the moonlight had danced across your features, and the way the breeze had ruffled your hair, and the way your smile had made him feel alive.

Tech closed his eyes, and let the memories wash over him.

And for a moment, just one brief, shining moment, the darkness was filled with starlight.

The day started like any other.

Tech woke up at the same time, dressed, and made his way to the kitchen, where Hunter was already making breakfast. He sat down at the table, and began scrolling through the daily news on his datapad, searching for anything of interest.

"Anything interesting happen yesterday?" Hunter asked, placing a plate of food in front of him.

"Not much," Tech replied, taking a bite of his breakfast. "A few minor scuffles, and a large cargo transport crash. It seems that the pilot was intoxicated, and he managed to take out half a block."

"Sounds fun," Hunter replied dryly. "Anything else?"

"Just the usual," Tech replied.

Hunter hummed in acknowledgement, and then asked, "How about last night? Did you stay up late recording more of those messages?"

Tech hesitated. He hadn't told Hunter about the messages, or any of his brothers. He assumed they knew, but they couldn’t know their purpose, and so he had kept the messages private.

"Yes," he finally answered. "I did."

"How many do you have now?"

"A few," Tech answered, his tone noncommittal.

"How many is a few?"

"Several."

"Dozens?"

"Yes." He twisted his mouth. “Hundreds.”

"Have you ever thought about sharing them?"

"No," Tech answered immediately.

"Why not?"

"Because they're private," Tech replied, his voice a little sharper than intended. “Because they're for her, and only her."

Hunter sighed, and Tech could feel the disappointment in the sound. He knew that his brother didn't understand his actions, but Tech didn't need him to. He knew what he was doing.

"You're still waiting, then."

"Yes."

"Tech, it's been over a year," Hunter said quietly. "She's gone."

"She's not gone," Tech replied, his grip on his fork tightening.

"Tech," Hunter repeated, his voice firmer.

His fork clattered against the plate, and Tech pushed his chair back, standing up.

"She's not dead," he snapped, his hand curling into a fist. "She's alive. She has to be."

"Tech, please," Hunter pleaded. "Don't go. I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Tech shot back. "And I don't need you to tell me what to do. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a message to record."

He rounded the table, brushing past his brother. But as he did, Hunter reached out and caught his arm. Tech glared at him, but Hunter didn't flinch. He just looked at him, and Tech felt his anger falter.

"Vod," Hunter said, his voice low. "Please. She's not coming back. And these recordings are just going to make things worse. "I know it's hard, but you have to let her go."

"I will," Tech replied. "But not today."

"Tech..."

"No," Tech cut him off. He pulled his arm from Hunter's grip and straightened his shoulders. "I won't do it."

"Tech, please," Hunter said. "I just want you to be happy."

"I will," Tech replied, his voice tight. "But not today."

"Alright, Tech." Hunter sighed and stepped back, his hand falling to his side. "Alright. Not today."

"Thank you," he managed. He swallowed hard and nodded. “I will see you at dinner, I assume."

"Of course," Hunter replied, his voice equally quiet.

Tech left the kitchen and made his way back to his room, ignoring the stares of Wrecker and Omega as he passed. He was sure they would ask Hunter about his outburst, and he was sure that Hunter would tell them. He didn't care. Let them talk. They didn't know anything.

He knew that they thought he was delusional. That he was clinging to false hope. That he was denying reality. And maybe they were right. But he couldn't stop. He couldn't just give up. Not when there was a chance, no matter how small, that he would see you again. And until that chance was gone, he would continue to wait.

The door slammed shut behind him, and Tech dropped onto his bed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His leg bounced restlessly at his side, and he could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

It was too loud, too bright, too much.

He needed to calm down. He needed to focus.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He focused on his breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat, on the feeling of the sheets beneath his fingers. You had helped him practice this exercise before, and he could remember the way you had guided him, your voice soft and gentle as you sat next to him on the floor of the cockpit.

Tech inhaled deeply, and then exhaled, slowly, letting his breath out in a long, steady stream. The sound of his breathing filled the room, and he felt himself relax. He continued the exercise, repeating the motions until his heart rate had slowed, and his breathing had evened out

He could still feel the anger, but it was lessening. He could still hear the voices of his brothers, but they were becoming muffled. He could still see the sunlight filtering through the window, but the glare was beginning to fade.

He breathed, and the world around him settled. He felt drained, and he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He was supposed to see you again. You were supposed to be happy. You were supposed to be safe.

You weren't supposed to be gone.

Tech didn't move for a long time, and when he finally did, it was only to get up and check his datapad. He had no new messages, and so he placed it on the nightstand and turned away.

The day dragged on, and Tech did his best to keep himself occupied. He tinkered with his new projects, cleaned the kitchen, and reorganized his storage of supplies. He didn’t speak at dinner, and no one commented. By the time evening rolled around, he was exhausted, and he found himself back in his room, alone with his thoughts.

He didn't know what to do, and so he sat on his bed, the datapad in his hands, and waited.

The day had been uneventful, and the hours had passed slowly. The sun had set, and the stars had come out, and still, he had no answers.

It was late now, and he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. Not with the anger and frustration and hurt gnawing at his heart.

He didn't know why he was feeling this way, and it only made him angrier.

He wanted answers, but there were none.

There were no messages, no clues, no sign of you.

Just the stars, and the darkness, and the silence.

Tech sighed, and placed the datapad on the nightstand once more. He resigned himself to another sleepless night, and was about to turn out his light when a hard knock pounded on his door.

Tech jolted upright, his heart leaping in his chest. He hadn't expected anyone, and for a moment, he could only sit there, his mind racing.

The door swung open, and Wrecker came barreling in. The force of the door hitting the wall sent a shower of dust raining down from the ceiling, and Tech held his breath as he saw Sarad's clay flower teeter on its perch.

"Tech!" Wrecker bellowed.

"Wrecker, keep it down," Tech hissed, leaping forward to steady the flower. "The others are asleep."

“You need to come outside. Now."

"What?" Tech turned, the flower in his hands. "Why?"

"Just come," Wrecker replied.

"Fine," Tech sighed, carefully placing the flower back on the shelf. As soon as it was back in its place, Wrecker wrapped a hand around his arm and dragged him from the room.

"Wrecker," Tech protested. "Let me go."

"Sorry, can't do that," Wrecker replied, practically shoving him down the hall.

They were nearly at the front door when Hunter and Omega appeared, their eyes wide and hair messy.

"What's going on?" Tech asked, trying and failing to pry his brother's hand off his arm.

"Echo just landed," Hunter replied. "He says there's something we need to see."

Tech’s brow furrowed in confusion. They hadn’t been expecting Echo to return for several weeks, and he had no idea what could be so urgent.

"What is it?"

"He wouldn't say," Hunter replied. "But he sounded pretty shaken."

Tech felt a twinge of worry. Echo wasn't the type to overreact, and if he was acting strangely, there was probably a good reason.

"Then we should hurry," Tech said, his voice tense.

"Right," Hunter replied. "Come on."

They followed Hunter out the door, and up the path that led to the landing pad. They didn't speak, and Tech was glad. He didn't think he would be able to carry a conversation right now. The village was dark, and the streets were empty. The only sound was the echo of their footsteps as they hurried along.

Finally, they reached the landing pad, and Tech saw the outline of the Remora in the distance, its lights glowing softly.

As they approached, Echo strode down the ramp, his face drawn and pale.

"Hey," Hunter said, his voice worried. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Echo replied, his voice shaky. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Echo said, his voice trembling slightly. "But I think you should see this."

He gestured to the ship, and Tech and his brothers stepped forward, following Echo up the ramp.

The inside of the Remora was dimly lit, and Tech squinted, trying to make out the details. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that there was someone sitting in the navigator's chair.

"Echo, what—“

His question died in his throat as the figure turned around, and Tech felt the world tilt beneath his feet.

It was you.

You were here.

You were alive.

Your name came out as a strangled cry, and he stumbled towards you, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear his brothers calling out behind him, their voices distant and muted. He barely registered their words, or their presence, or anything other than the sight of you in front of him.

You were real.

"Sarad," he breathed.

Your lips curled into a smile, and you reached out, your hand resting gently on his cheek. Your touch was warm, and soft, and familiar, and he felt the tears spring to his eyes.

"My love," you whispered, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound of your voice to wash over him. It was music, and joy, and home, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

"Sarad," he murmured, leaning into your touch.

"I'm here," you replied softly. He felt the tears spilling over, and you wiped them away gently.

"You're here," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

"Tech." You said his name like a prayer, and he opened his eyes, gazing at you. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

He didn't reply. Instead, he closed the distance between you, and his arms were around you before he even realized what he was doing. He pulled you to him, his grip tightening as he felt the solid warmth of your body. You were here. You were real.

"You're here," he breathed, his voice muffled by your shoulder. "You're alive."

"Yes." Your voice shook, and your arms tightened around him. "I'm here. I'm alive."

He held you for a moment longer, and then drew back, his hands cupping your face. He studied your features, taking in the sight of you. You looked tired, but there was no mistaking the warmth and affection in your gaze.

“You changed your hair," he said, running a hand through the short strands. The words came out hoarse and broken, and he swallowed thickly, trying to regain control.

"Yeah," you murmured, your fingers curling around his wrist.

"It suits you," he said. He was having a hard time forming complete sentences. He wanted to say so many things, but the words were stuck in his throat.

You laughed, the sound weak and breathless, but it was a laugh, and Tech found himself smiling.

"Tech, I'm sorry," you said, your voice shaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to contact you. I couldn't—“

"It's alright," Tech said, his voice quiet. "It's okay. You're here now."

"I missed you," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

"I missed you too," he replied, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “I can't believe you're here. I didn't think—"

He broke off, his voice faltering.

"You're really here," he whispered.

"Yes," you replied, your hand curling around his.

"I was so afraid," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I thought...I thought I'd lost you."

"I'm sorry," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his palm. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't care," Tech said, his voice steadying. "I don't care about the past. All that matters is that you're here. You're alive. You're home."

"Home," you repeated, your eyes meeting his. "That sounds nice."

He kissed you then, and he felt your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He poured every ounce of love and longing and joy into the kiss, and when you finally drew back, both of you were breathless.

"I love you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

"I didn't say it enough." Tech's voice was thick with emotion.

"That's okay," you said, a smile spreading across your lips. "I knew."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I should have said it. Every day."

"You can start now," you said, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

"I love you," he breathed. "So much."

"I love you, too," you said, tears welling in your eyes.

Tech drew you into another kiss, and this one was softer, more tender. It was a promise, and a vow, and a declaration of love, and when he pulled back, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Your eyes were bright with tears, and your lips were trembling, but you were alive. You were here, and you were safe. And he loved you so much, it was like a physical ache.

"Don't cry," he murmured, brushing them away.

"I'm sorry," you laughed weakly. "I just can't believe it. I never thought...I'm just so happy. So, so happy."

"I am too," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "So happy. And I have so much to tell you. So much has happened. But...there is time for that later. For now, I just want to be here. With you."

"Yes," you whispered. "I'd like that."

You leaned in, resting your head against his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. And, as you clung to him, and the tears began to fall, Tech couldn’t help but be grateful for the infinite possibilities of the universe, and the chance it had given him to be with you again.

Taglist: @covert1ntrovert @bruh-myguy-what @spicy-clones @arctrooper69 @qvnthesia @heidnspeak @Kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @baddest-batchers @cw80831 @lovelytech9902

[zebulontheplanet]

most of the autism stuff i encounter (as a low-support autistic person) revolves pretty much exclusively around ppl with low-support needs, who can easily pass for non-autistic, who don't get diagnosed until well into adulthood bc they look "normal," which maps pretty well onto my own experience (except i was diagnosed very young) but it only represents a fraction of the autistic community. so your blog was a really nice find.

a few questions:

when your aac device runs out of battery, what are your alternatives? are you able to write stuff down instead?

what's the purpose of plaintext? who does it accommodate?

i know when it comes to individuals, you're supposed to ask them whether they prefer to be called nonspeaking or nonverbal, but which do i use as an umbrella term? how do i refer to them as a group? (maybe this is a pointless question bc you're only one person but i'm still curious)

sorry if i misspoke or said anything offensive, like i said i've been inundated with mostly low-support perspectives and today was basically my first time finding anything else

Hello anon! Glad to see you here. I’ll try my best to answer your questions.

If my AAC battery runs out, then I can use my phone. I have my apps on my phone as well for backup. But let’s say my phone and AAC are out of battery, I’d use my partners/caregivers phone, which they have a AAC app downloaded on and the notes app, which I could use to communicate. But let’s say my AAC is dead, my phones dead, and I’m not with my caregiver or my caregivers phone is dead. I’d be shit out on luck. Unless we had a pen and paper with us, I wouldn’t be able to communicate at all besides grunts, pointing, and leading. So yeah, those are very important. It’s very important to have things charged at all times.

Plaintext is important for those with cognitive and intellectual disability. Why? Because some of us can’t understand complicated text. I am one of those people. Some of it I can understand? But a lot of it I can’t. Plaintext is very important and is an accessibility tool. This just doesn’t stop at cognitive and intellectually disabled folk. Many people benefit from plaintext.

This is a hard one, and one I cannot not fully answer because each person will say something different. If someone was to use an umbrella term around me personally, I’d prefer them to use nonverbal. But some people prefer that people use nonspeaking. Again, it all depends and it’s a hard question. Just go with the flow and see what those around you prefer.

Anyways, I hope this helps! If you have any further questions then let me know. Have a lovely day anon!

[incognitopolls]

Genuine question

Why is it bad/frowned upon to submit one poll to several blogs? I personally haven't done it, but I've considered doing it for different responses as not everyone follows the same poll blogs / all of them.

I think it's fine if one person wants to submit their own poll idea to several blogs for whatever reason. The desire for more data is real, especially if it's a burning question that you can't easily get answers to another way. I don't think that's what curiositysavesthecat was referring to, though; it sounds like they've received submissions that are exact copies of polls that are already published, suggesting that it's a different submitter who saw the original poll and thought, "Hey, fantastic idea, let me copy that."

We're talking about two different scenarios:

In the first scenario (what you're talking about), curiousblog1234 wants to know if people sing to their pets. curiousblog1234 sends this poll suggestion to 5 poll blogs because they really want to know and get the biggest sample they can.

In the second scenario (what I'm talking about), curiousblog1234 wants to know if people sing to their pets. curiousblog1234 sends this poll suggestion to generalpollblog7. The poll goes in generalpollblog7's queue and is released 2 weeks later. At that point, opportunistblog55 grabs it and submits it to a few more poll blogs.

There's a secret third scenario in which I do think it would be pretty fair to submit someone else's idea to another poll blog, which is if the question curiousblog1234 submitted to generalpollblog7 was, for instance, "Autistic people, which sense overwhelms you the most often?" and, after it was posted, opportunistblog55 submitted it to autismpolls40 because they knew it would get more targeted responses there.

Submitting duplicates of someone else's polls to other blogs isn't morally bad but it strikes me as just kind of rude if there's not a reason for it. Idk.

Also… this won't be true for every poll blog, but if it's a perfect word-for-word copy of a poll posted on this blog there's a very good chance that it's not the original submitter, because as I've said before I proofread and make slight changes to the wording of most polls to improve clarity at minimum.

Anyway.

[eriexplosion]

Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

[tonysbed]

flavours of choice | OP81

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!picky eater!reader

Summary: Oscar supporting you in something no one really has before..

warnings: mention of food, fluff ig

mental health masterlist | main masterlist

Oscar sat across from her, his eyes gentle and attentive, as they perused the menu. Their usual restaurant buzzed with the sounds of clinking glasses and murmured conversations. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on the menu, but the familiar anxiety crept up as her eyes scanned the dishes, filled with foods she struggled to eat.

“Anything look good?” Oscar asked, his tone casual yet caring.

She forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just trying to decide,” she replied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil inside.

Oscar noticed the slight hesitation in her movements, the way she lingered on the familiar options. It was their third date, and he had started to piece together the patterns. She always ordered the same few dishes, always hesitated when trying something new.

He didn't say anything then, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Instead, he chose a dish he knew she liked, hoping to ease her mind. They enjoyed their meal, the conversation flowing effortlessly as always. Yet, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more she wasn’t sharing.

---

A few weeks later, as they strolled through the park, Oscar gently broached the subject. “You know, you can always tell me if there’s something bothering you,” he said, his voice soft.

She looked up at him, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?” she asked, though she had an inkling of what he was referring to.

“About food. I’ve noticed you’re very particular,” he said, careful to keep his tone non-judgmental. “And that’s okay. I just want you to know that you can be honest with me.”

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “It’s just… I’ve struggled with the texture and sensory aspects of food my entire life,” she admitted. “People have always made fun of me for being a picky eater, so I’ve tried to hide it.”

Oscar nodded, his expression understanding. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry people have treated you that way. It must be hard.”

“It is,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m trying, but it’s really difficult.”

“Maybe I can help?” he suggested. “What if we talked to a nutritionist? They might have some strategies to make things easier for you.”

She hesitated, the idea both daunting and appealing. “You really think that could help?”

“I do,” Oscar said firmly. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

---

With Oscar’s support, she scheduled an appointment with a nutritionist. The first few sessions were overwhelming. The nutritionist introduced her to new foods in a controlled environment, encouraging her to try small bites and note her reactions.

The exposures were challenging. Some textures made her skin crawl, and certain tastes were unbearable. Each time, she pushed herself, but the experience often left her in tears by the time she got home.

Oscar was always there, ready to hold her and listen. “It’s okay to cry,” he would say, his arms wrapped around her. “You’re doing amazing. This is really hard, and you’re so brave for facing it.”

She found some new foods she could tolerate, small victories that felt monumental. But she remained mostly picky, her sensory sensitivities still a significant barrier.

One evening, after a particularly tough session, she collapsed into Oscar’s embrace, tears streaming down her face. “I feel like I’m never going to get better,” she sobbed.

Oscar gently wiped her tears away. “You’ve already made so much progress,” he said softly. “It doesn’t matter how much or how little you change. What matters is that you’re trying, and that’s incredible.”

His unwavering support gave her the strength to keep going. She learned to navigate her challenges with more confidence, knowing she had someone who loved and accepted her unconditionally.

---

Years later, as they sat together at a family gathering, Oscar watched with pride as she navigated the buffet. She selected a few new items along with her safe choices, her demeanor calm and composed. She had come a long way, and while she was still a picky eater, she was no longer ashamed of it.

Oscar took her hand, squeezing it gently. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” he asked, smiling.

“For believing in me,” she said simply.

Oscar kissed her forehead. “Always,” he promised.

And he meant it.

A/n: I think there are 2 more Oscar x reader ideas to write? Or three? I’m not even sure anymore. Remember, send your requests my wayyyy

[kiame-sama]

Hello, Can you write more yanChrollo with the newly hijacked and autistic reader? Maybe where the reader is not yet used to Chrollo or the situation, And afraid of him and the rest of the members

I would like to make the reader male but if you prefer to make the reader female then I don't mind at all

I am now in my twenties

Thank you so much

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, autistic reader, male reader, mention of kidnapping, less than pleased reader, tough situations, ficlet (not a fullblown fic), somewhat hurt/comfort,

(Despite being a male reader, still using my own autism as a reference)

~~~~~~~~

"Why are we just letting him-"

"Don't question Boss. His soulmate, his rules."

"But why the hell is he just letting his soul mate sit in the corner like that?"

You watched them closely as you sat and stared, trying to keep to yourself as best you could. It had been days but you still couldn't bring yourself to relax among the group of people that had so readily grabbed you off the street. They were much more openly curious than Chrollo- the man they had grabbed you for- and clearly did not care if you could hear them or not.

Chrollo, the man that claimed you as his soulmate, had been rather keen on letting you acclimate to him but also keeping you in his sight. Luckily, he did give you some privacy, but he was never too far away from you even when you were out of his sight. Even when you slept you knew he was somewhere nearby and it only made your stress levels rise.

"No sense in upsetting him more than getting him to me had," Chrollo, spoke with a vague grin on his lips, "clearly I just have to learn how to best interact with him, that is all."

"I can hear you."

"I know you can, my darling (Y/n). However, you are not keen on talking, so there is no point in making you talk."

"... But there is a point in taking me from my home?"

Chrollo turned to you now, intentionally blinking in an attempt to come across as less threatening despite how it obviously didn't fool you. Still, he was learning what unsettled you and what was going to keep you calm. Any progress in relaxing you around him was good progress in Chrollo's eyes.

"Yes. As I explained earlier, we are soulmates. You can distrust me as much as you wish, you will eventually never want to leave my side. Soulmates are connected for a reason, Dear."

You just let out a soft humming sound in response to his words, drumming your fingers against your arm idly. Chrollo continued to smile at you despite your lack of response before returning to his book. The other members of the group didn't seem to feel the same way as they continued to glance at you suspiciously from time to time.

The sounds from the outside wre muffled but absolutely enough to occupy you. Not many cars went by, but there were still the various barks of dogs as others passed the abandoned building you were held captive inside of. Despite the sounds, your eyes stayed fixed on the relaxed figure of Chrollo.

The more you stared, the more your situation began to weigh on you. A very faint sting of salty tears burned your eyes as your throat seemed to tighten with distress. When you finally dropped your gaze, you had to hide your face against your arms and you pulled your knees to your chest. The first few tears fell quickly but you tried your best to remain as quiet as possible to not draw attention to your now sensitive state.

It was while you choked back any sounds from escaping that you felt something drape over your shoulders. Whatever it was almost seemed like a blanket and you quickly took to wrapping yourself in the material. The faint brush of fur against your arms brought to mind thoughts of the coat Chrollo always wore and you gathered just what the item was.

A soft sound of movement next to you made you peak one eye past your arms where you hid your face, seeing Chrollo settle an arm's length away from you. He leaned against the wall as he sat- completely topless- and opened his book back to whatever page he had been on. He didn't even glance at you as you stared at him, trying to gauge what he was doing. Without missing a beat, Chrollo spoke in a soft tone to you, the low rumble of his voice somewhat soothing your anxious heart.

"I know it is a frightening time for you. You're somewhere new. Somewhere you don't know very well. It all is so sudden and confusing for you. I understand. Even if you don't trust me now, I still don't wish to bear the thought of you hurting all by yourself."

Chrollo had that grin again, the one where he seemed to be both bemused and patiently waiting. You couldn't tell if you liked that look on him or not.

"You will warm to me eventually. For now, take comfort in the fact I have quite the patience. I can wait as long as I need to until you begin to trust me."

[numberonechonnyjashfan]

here is said rant post.. HEAR ME OUT

no im being fr cause like okay this isnt a “omg i love them so much theyre so hot” hear me out post, this is a “holy shit i have stuff to say” hear me out post

can we take a moment to analyze and discuss @lovelyshiz ‘s cccc designs!!!!!!!!! ermrm biiiig autistic ted talk coming biiiiigg autistic topic-to-topic discussion ted talk coming are you guys ready

you guys arent ready

LOOK. look at soul guyss LOOK okay ready for biiiig talk

soul has aspects of heart and mind in his design guys. GUYS okay so on his name tag, the ??? is purple, blue, and orange yayayeyaurje wowowowoelwkeke geah eyah and also in his silly sparkles on his darker half, they r purple and blue!!!!!!!!!!!! uwoaiwowe lovelyshiz if you dont have lore for your designs, NOW YOU DO because I THINK!! the reason for this is becausueu he was in control of whole most of the album and when he let them all work in unison together woelooei aspects and influences from heart and mind affected him and SO!!! thats why there’s parts of their colors implemented BIG DISCOVERY GUYS no its not actually thats probably not why it was probably for funsies but umm.. shiz your designs have lore now i guess

okay HEAR ME OUT on why heart is in a hoodie and sweatpants…… HES EMO!!/j umm j think its because he is verrrry emotion and so he finds the comfort of biiiigg clothes very soothingnand so when he gets sad its NOT for long because biigg clothes biiiiiggg happy yahshaheh!!!!! also his shoelaces r untied cause he doesnt feel like tying them probably he just flies around everywhere probably

WHOLE ALSO HAS HMS STRINGS HOLDING HIS PANT HOLE TOGETHER HOLY SHIT that was most likely intentional but I THINK it’s because they r APART OF HIM!!!! whole is a did system real guys….

um.. nothing about mind HES NOT SPECIAL ENOUGH/J

well actually yes there is something about mind

his halo

hes referred to as the SKY in a few songs or was that heart idk but he ALSO HAS A CLOUD ON HIS HALO AND HE SINGS STORM AND A SPRING YEHAJEN idk im not really onto anything i just RREEEALLY like the designs they’re so 😍😍😍😍

[thunderstomm]

I was originally not going to make a post about this, but after seeing a few other posts about it, I wanted to make my own. I have a LOT to talk about.

TW: Transphobia, Homophobia, Ableism

If you don’t know what I’m taking about- there was a post made by a user, who’s name I will not disclose or share, who discussed how they would rewrite the new Monster High G3 Cartoon. While some of the points were mundane, or points of preference, others made me very uncomfortable, as they got rid of much of the diversity that G3 has brought into the Monster High Universe. I want to quickly go through three of the points that I felt were erasing these steps in diversity, and my thoughts on each one, and why I think that it’s iffy, to say the least.

First is the statement “all of the couples from G1 will stay together”. While this may read to some as a preference for the old couples, in the context of rewriting G3- it comes across as the erasure of both couples involving a neurodivergent character being the subject of a crush, and being seen as desirable and loved (Manny x Twyla), and what probably was the intended couples they wanted to seperate, the canonically queer ships. In particular, this is most likely against Clankie (and POSSIBLY an s2 ship which I won’t say by name because some people want to go in blind. Instead I will refer to it as 🧡💚.). In this rewrite context, wanting to take away queer relationships which many writers and designers for Monster High have fought for in many shapes and forms. G1 never had explicit queer characters, the closest things being a scrapped SDCC diary entry (Valentine x Spelldon), Post-Ending 3rd party statements (Clawdeen is a Lesbian, Rebecca x Venus, etc.) and implied characters (Kiyomi). While these are okay, they are NOT the same as explicit queer couples, which are arguably more important to push forward in the talk and scope of present and future representation.

While it is okay to prefer the G1 ships, in the context of bringing them back for G3, it erases these queer couples, and ignores the lore and universe of G3. In G3, Cleo and Deuce are exes. And if you don’t like that, you can still watch G1!! It’s not magically disappeared, the movies and shows and music is all still out there, and most of it is free! But, erasing Clankie, 🧡💚, and other potential queer ships in G3, for the preservation of a m/f ship isn’t okay.

On the subject of erasure, there is the statement “Frankie is still non-binary, but now uses she/they pronouns”. A character canonically using they/them in cartoons, especially ones made for kids, are uncommon. Honestly, I don’t even know if I could name 10, and that says more about the state of non-binary representation than it does about me. While changing the pronouns of a cisgender character to gender neutral ones is often done in fandom, and often not a point of issue, taking a character who is canonically non-binary and solely uses they/them and giving them typically gendered pronouns erases that under represented group, and allows for transphobes to ignore the “they” in “she/they”, and only use “she” for the character. This is an issue in real life too, for many who use multiple sets of pronouns, including myself (they (preferred) / he) ! We deserve both of their sets of pronouns to be used, and people who only use they/them deserve to be referred to by and as they/them. These changes hurt everyone.

Then, we come to the one I see the most talk about, and the one that made me audibly yell “what the f-?!”- taking away Twyla’s canon autism diagnosis, and symptoms & traits, and replacing it with autism coding, so that she is easier to identify with. First of all- easier for who??? Neurotypicals ?? It is incredibly rare to see a character on kids TV outright say “I am autistic”, and Twyla is wonderful as representation. Twyla will not resonate or be relatable to every person- but that is true for all characters, not just autistic ones. Autistic people are not a monolith, it is a spectrum, with many different ways to present itself. Also… taking away all of her traits and symptoms to make her more relatable? These traits and symptoms are what would have made her “autistic coded”, and without them, you have a character who is NT.

Autism isn’t a quirky word you can use to describe anyone, it is a disability, that myself and many others have, and see misrepresented time and time again. And to say that a good example of it is not good, and would be better off to be erased and replaced with coding is insane. Coding is okay, but that’s all it is. Real spoken representation matters so much to me, and so many other people, even if the characters we see are not identical to us in those symptoms and traits they exhibit. These characters should not be changed, but rather, more autistic characters, with different presenting symptoms and traits, should be introduced !

You can like G1, you can prefer G1, but that does not mean that you have to make a sanitised version of G3, that makes it identical to G1. In terms of representation, there is no arguing that G3 has G1 beat. The poster said on their post that “any new characters would be made more relatable”, but… to who? Because I relate to a lot of the G3 characters more than the G1 ones, and I grew up loving G1! It’s not been wiped, all of the media still exists for you to watch, and make headcanons for ! If you like G1- good for you! But please, stop trying to make G3 exactly like it. Because change is inevitable in these kinds of reboots, and it allows for the representation some want to take away.

Thank-You for those who read all the way!

[cripplecharacters]

Can people with flat/blunted affect mask and if so how common is it for people with the symptom to be able to do that?

Hi!

I'm assuming you mean an autistic person who has a flat affect?

Short answer: yes.

Long answer:

Flat affect is one small part of autism. Tone is often difficult for autistic people to recognize and reproduce. But there are plenty of things that go into masking!

Masking can involve suppressing stims, avoiding talking about special interests, putting focus into body and facial expressions, and many other things too!

Also, masking takes a lot of energy. If your character is more focused on making sure they are sitting still, for example, they may not be focused so much on their tone of voice.

Keep in mind that masking isn't widespread in the autistic community. Many of us, especially higher support needs autistics, cannot mask at all. (Personally I understand masking in theory but am unable to mask myself.)

It's certainly possible to be higher masking and have a flat or "unusual" affect, just consider how else that might affect them.

Mod Rock

Hello!

I mask almost constantly whenever I'm able to. It's a survival mechanism that I haven't been able to break out of. I also have a very flat tone and what's usually referred to as 'resting bitch face'. I'm not very expressive naturally.

When I'm masking, I don't usually mask my tone. The rare times when I do is usually for short interactions at parties/events or during job interviews; both places where it's short term and rather necessary for me (To get the interaction over with at parties and to have a better chance at getting a job at the interview).

Even when I'm masking, my tone and expressions don't always come across as natural or real. They can seem fake or superficial, at least from what I'm told.

If I had to keep it up for longer than those short interactions, it would be very exhausting and, as Rock suggested, I'd have a harder time focusing on other aspects of my mask.

To answer your question: Yes, it is possible for somebody to do that but as for how common it is, that really depends on the person. Not all autistic people have a flat affect and not all of those who do can or will choose to mask it.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

Hello,

I'm medium support needs autistic with flat tone and facial expression. While I can mask some things, I can't mask everything at once.

It's kind of like my brain is a computer, and masking different things is like running different programs. if I try to run too many at once, all of the programs start struggling. I can mask my tone, injecting what I think is an appropriate amount of emotion, but, beyond a few things that come easily to me such as a genuine-looking smile, can't really mask my expression while masking my tone. If I'm masking my expression and trying to follow what I think non-autistics would expect based on what I'm saying, I struggle to mask my tone. If I try to mask both at once, both masks start to slip. Tone and expression are larger programs, so it's harder for other programs to run while those are running. Maybe a small program, like simulating eye contact by looking at someone's forehead, can run at the same time, but trying to run too many little programs while running a big program will lead to the same problem. All of this also takes an enormous amount of energy. So while I can kind of mask, I can't mask everything at once. There are only so many programs I can run before my computer crashes.

If your character is medium support needs, masking perfectly is probably nigh impossible. If they're high support needs, there's absolutely no way they can mask. Masking is a lot harder for M-HSN people, so if your character is medium of high support needs, they probably aren't going to be able to mask at all or, if they can mask, will likely mask imperfectly like me. It'll also take a lot more effort than it would for a character who has no support needs or light support needs, it would exhaust them way quicker. And, again, a lot of medium support needs individuals may struggle severely with masking or won't be able to mask at all. High support needs individuals often, if not always, cannot mask at all.

So if your character is M-HSN, their ability to mask will depend on where they are on that spectrum and what else they're trying to do as they talk.

Mod Aaron

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I personally think the wof mental health rep is a lot better than it seems at first glance.

I should say upfront that I'm not a professional, though one of my biggest interests is psychology and majority of the conditions I talk in this post I either have or have traits of (and I'll clarify which I don't).

Whiteout is the only canonical neurodivergent character as far as I know, having associative synesthesia, but many headcanoning her to be autistic. I haven't read the books in a long while, but from what I remember I can agree, though I'm not autistic (despite meeting criteria... long story) so I won't for sure say if I think her traits are enough for a diagnosis or not (again, haven't read the books recently), but everyone seems to think they are so I'll agree.

Hawthorn has psychotic symptoms, which I think is important to represent since people with psychosis (whether that be from being on the schizophrenia spectrum or some other reason) are very often put in a bad light. Hawthorn is too, to an extent, but that's more so due to the Breath of Evil and not due to his psychotic symptoms, or from what I can remember, at least. I don't think Hawthorn has a mental disorder like schizophrenia since symptoms of psychosis can be caused by isolation (I'm not actually 100% sure if this is true, this is just something my psychologist told me), but I think the representation is still important either way. I relate to him a lot due to his symptoms.

Darkstalker very clearly shows symptoms of NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder), I don't think you can even argue that (sorry, narcissism anon from a month or so ago). I myself fit the criteria for NPD, and I definitely see myself in him. I doubt he can be diagnosed since he is still a child, but his symptoms might be extreme enough to warrant one, I'm not sure (coming from a minor who's doctors referred them for a personality disorder screening themself). Of the nine (9) criteria for NPD, just off memory he fit basically all of them. I won't go into all of it but I will definitely mention his splitting, seeing how he goes from loving Clearsight to thinking he can kill her if she doesn't meet his expectations. He also has the aspect of how it develops too, that being trauma (I recall Arctic being abusive to him which is definitely enough to warrant trauma), and being spoiled as a child (this could be my brain making things up but I swear this happened, or at least he was overly praised or something). So yeah, fairly sure he would have been diagnosed with NPD if he didn't eat the strawberry.

Moonwatcher seems to have social and separation anxiety. I like this, since I am diagnosed with both and they are both very difficult to live with, and I like seeing another character having it that I can relate to in that way. She also has symptoms of AVPD (just from what I remember), but she's only like... twelve (12) so there's no way she could be diagnosed.

Anemone, while not having any mental disorders specifically, still had a rough mental health journey so I think it's important to bring up. She grew up with her mother, Queen Coral, who was a complete helicopter parent, and likely never met her Father, King Gill. She was praised and adorned all her life, so it makes sense that when she was eventually separated from Coral, she acted out what she thought she deserved. While I think Darkstalker has NPD, I can't say the same for Anemone, since she was so young and it's normal for young children to have narcissistic traits. When she met Darkstalker, they clicked well due to both being animi and having... less than positive thoughts on the dragons around them. Darkstalker ended up lovebombing her, and telling her to leave when she got mad at Moon. She lashed out at Turtle afterwards, before they reconciled later. I thought this would be important to mention.

Peril likely has a few personality disorders as well, the most likely ones in my opinion being BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and DPD (Dependent Personality Disorder), which isn't surprising given her situation. She likely has tons of trauma so it's only natural for her to develop a traumagenic disorder. I say those in particular because of her rapidly changing thoughts and emotions and her over attachment to Clay, which I can definitely relate to given how I act with my DP (Dependent Person). I don't have BPD though I show traits (not sure if enough for a diagnosis or not) and I remember Peril showing traits too.

There's also a lot of dragons that probably have PTSD in some way, Fathom, Peril, and Jerboa III being the first ones that come to mind specifically.

I seriously think this is an important topic and I might make a video on it at some point. Like I said, I love psychology and I think it's interesting how it impacts characters from my favourite book series.

.

[weebsinstash]

In case it wasn't obvious by my complete LACK of screaming, I actually wound up hanging out with family and walking away from the TV before fully completing Hazbin's fourth episode, AKA The One I Know Is Gonna Drive Me Wild 😩❤️ so speaking of poison, time to get drunk again and finish that last episode!

I really gotta say though, as someone who has been chatting with a few other people... laughing howling barking at the amount of people straight up, "yeah Valentino is sexy but now that we know more about him, VOX THOUGH" like the amount of autistic girl pussy this man could pull is WILD

in episode two during the scene introducing VoxTech they make it VERY clear that Vox also straight up has fucking hypnosis powers??? It's when his left eye gets all... woobly? And then when Vox was calming down Val, that same effect was used TWICE, so, lowkey implying Vox tries to "lull" Valentino into a calmer state

"What are you doing, Val"

"You're not going over there."

Also the delivery on that line was hot 😩 imagine Vox saying something to you like "don't leave the studio :)" and he can tell you're not gonna listen to him or you're only half listening and he just repeats himself like THIS, the register of his voice lowers firmly, "You're NOT leaving the studio" and suddenly your head feels kinda fuzzy as he starts telling you all the different reasons it's too crazy outside for you to leave his sight... yeah... guess he's right... better... trust him...

Vox is composed, calculating, cunning, he's the SALESMAN, the sweet-talker, the schemer. Val's yelling and screaming that you ran off and aren't answering his calls and being manic, throwing things, tearing people apart, and meanwhile here's Vox, "calm down Valentino I can just activate the tracker I put on the phone I gave them :)"

remember in the past where I talked about Val getting Reader their first phone down in Hell. I can still see that because Val is fawning over you so much he gives you a phone so he can contact you whenever he wants, like LMAO imagine Val calling texting calling texting and everyone's watching him go fucking crazy "WHY AREN'T THEY RESPONDING fucking BITCH" and here's Angel "Boss they dont even have a phone???? Whose number are you even calling????", BUT I also see Vox doing this because he's the actual one who can do some shit like "oh yeah here's just a little something I threw together, it's the new VPhone 27, it's whatever" and later you find out he gave you the equivalent of like a $3000 iPhone and it has like special features on it that he very clearly put on there just for you but you have no frame of reference so you don't even realize how nice your phone is until someone else comments on it

Also. Valentino snatching Reader's phone and chucking it and completely shattering it and it sends you into a rage, "THAT WAS A GIFT FROM VOX YOU TEMPERAMENTAL PRICK!" and Vox returns from the bathroom or some shit to you yelling and screaming at each other, "You're lucky I don't put something in that smart mouth of yours to teach you some respect you ungrateful whore!!" "well YOU'RE LUCKY I don't sit on your face until you fucking suffocate and die a second time!!" and Vox feels himself getting kinda. Hot watching you two go back and forth, "I should fuckin tie you up until you're begging for me to stop whipping that fat ass of yours RAW!" "Cocky stuck up men like you always cry and whimper the loudest when they get restrained and FUCKED UP THE ASS"

Vox just in shock as you're able to TEAR INTO THIS MAN and walk away completely unscathed, all you guys really do is scream at each other and then 20 minutes later after you've walked away, always YOU to disengage or else he'll just keep going, Val's texting you shortly thereafter, "heeeeeeey baaaaabe, come back 🥺 I miss you ❤️" and then the second you fall for it and come back, "took you long enough, fucking brat" and you're getting pulled into his lap to forcibly cuddle him and be made to brush his chest fur while he makes calls for drug deals and shit

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Jules Nichols Headcanons (Pt. 2)

Previous part in collaboration with @ilovehotactresses

(She helped me with a few (most) of these, but she's being a bitch and not SHARING Jules. She's OUR beefy boyfriend!!! (If the Jules fic gets pushed to the bottom of the WIP list, you know why).

Jules x Fem!Reader (Boobs are referred to).

General Personality

-This woman is one bad day away from locking herself in the generator room and never coming out.

-Upon first introduction, (if you can even call it that), she says her name and maybe three words.

"Hi Sheriff Nichols, I'm [Name]"

"Oh. It's Jules. Don't call me Sheriff."

"Oka-"

*POOF*

-Has the ability to literally disappear like a cat. Doesn't want to be seen? Won't. You won't find her anywhere, don't try, she climbs up in the vents. Yeah. You heard me. The fucking air vents.

-BOY HUMOR. She's been around men her entire life. Her humor is absolutely rancid. Every dirty joke in the book. Not 'one of the guys' , she is a 'guy'.

-All of her friends are men. They slap each other on the back when hugging, first hugs are going to be interesting.

-First contact you'll ever make with her is a handshake. Very firm. This woman can GRIP.

First Date/ Getting to know each other

-Jules doesn't know what dating is. She's the equivalent of a Silo Comp Sci major, except she wears deodorant. You bet your ass asking her out is like asking out a brick wall.

"Hey Jules, I was wondering if we could hang out sometime...?"

"We're talking right now."

*Stares. Just fucking STARES.*

-But if she has feelings, it is at least ten times harder.

"Hey, want to grab coffee?"

".... What's coffee?"

*Looks at you with bugged out autistic eyes.*

-She lurks if she has a crush. Looking out from the corner of the room with those same bugged out eyes. She doesn't talk. Maybe she fixes something in your tool kit without asking, but you bet your ass she's not talking first.

-It's like trying to befriend a feral cat. Good news? She can and will be bribed with food.

Awkward Stage

-After you coerce Jules into a date, because you will have to be the one to make the move with her, she becomes worse with the lurking.

-Breathing over your shoulder, her front almost touching your back but never quite making contact. Itching to touch, but also not wanting to touch. INDECISIVE.

-Sniffing.

-Yeah bud, you heard me. She sniffs. Finds out what soaps you use, maybe perfume. Invests in that shit.

-Starts naming things after you. Her favorite wrench? Now it's [Reader] wrench. New mechanical equipment? Automatically your name. EVERYONE around her knows she likes you simply because she refers to the generator with your name once.

-(She climbed into the air vents after that screw up).

Relationship Stage

-CLINGY.

-We've established she's a bottom. Wants to be babied all. The. Time. She's like one of those large Newfoundlands that want to be held like a baby. Is she baby sized? Can she even fit in your lap comfortably? No, but she sits there anyways.

-Eating EVERYTHING in your house.

-Can't cook? You're gonna have to learn to. This woman doesn't cook, only eats. If you don't feed her she will bitch and moan until you do.

-SO. FUCKING. HANGRY.

-Being alone with her is like having a breathing shadow. Wants to cuddle, needs to cuddle. Cuddling on the sofa, in the kitchen, in the bed, in the shower.

-Nibbling. Forget wearing anything except turtlenecks, your neck is covered in red marks constantly. Lots of kisses though, so it works out.

-Nose in your neck. Face in your shoulder, face in your boobs if she can. Face. Must. Touch.

-Loves your boobs. Mesmerized by them every time they come out. Also mesmerized by other things ;)

Random (Basically Jules being autistic)

-Investing in a stim swing would be the best present EVER. Swing is life. Bouncing and spinning, just the feet out. It's her new air vents.

-Wants TIGHT hugs. They have to be tight. As tight as you can make them. That pressure is good.

-Ties her shoes really tight too. Would wear tight pants if she could avoid harassment, therefore all of her pajamas are tight.

-Saltines are her favorite snack. You heard me. Crispy, same texture every time and just salty enough. Munches on them like a hamster.

-Saturday night activities include taking apart your kitchen toaster and fiddling with it until it works RIGHT. (It was making a high pitched noise that was driving her nuts).

-Does all the fixing in the house not because you can't but because she cannot watch you do it because you're not doing it 'right'.

-The bug eyed look is basically her resting face.

-Brings home a kitten from the generator one day, proudly naming it Lug-nut. (Luggie for short). This cat is basically Jules in cat form. They have the same expression. At all times.

That's all!

Tag list: @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @bjoerkumlaut, @lovelyy-moonlight, @coffee-is-my-oxygen, @appparadox407

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I changed my name because people are overusing the nickname privilege?

2 years ago, I (29, transmasculine) changed my name. For the sake of this ask, since I don't want to use my real name, a decent equivalent is James, so I'll be using that instead.

I originally told my mom and my roommate/close friend (Alex, 29, agender) I was okay with the nickname Jamie, but I'd prefer to mostly be called James, especially when it comes to people I don't know well.

I tried to set this boundary because the nickname feels a little feminine, even if it's technically gender neutral. I don't pass very often, so it makes me uncomfortable to think people who don't know me might misunderstand, and think I am simply a woman with a gender neutral nickname. So I envisioned Jamie being reserved for the people closest to me because of that.

Both my mom and Alex opted to call me Jamie immediately. They introduced me to friends, family members, and even strangers as Jamie, put my name in their phone as Jamie. My mom sends me packages addressed to "Jamie [lastname]". Just the other day, Alex's grandma sent us chocolates in the mail and the note inside said "Merry Christmas Alex and Jamie!" and I am not close to her by any means, I am positive Alex must have told her that's my name. Just tons and tons of little things like that.

It took me a while to catch on - at first I thought people simply decided to call me Jamie on their own, or heard Alex or my mom talk to me and figured it was okay. I'm autistic, so it takes a while to figure out the best way to approach a problem involving social skills. I didn't want to immediately jump in and say "hey, don't call me that, you don't know me well enough," because I think that's a bit callous. And I thought I was dealing with just a few acquaintances - not literally everyone Alex or my mom talks to.

I confronted both of them about a year ago, when I finally put it together. They said they're not intentionally disregarding my feelings, but "Jamie suits you so much more" so they forget and it just slips out.

(I could be wrong, but I think this is probably because Jamie can be a girl's name and I still look like a girl. So, yeah, of course they'd feel that way.)

I begged them to stop and call me James if they're talking to people about me. My mom promptly "forgot" again. Alex has gotten better about it, but still slips up. Even if they were perfect, I feel like the damage is done after 2 years of this.

To further complicate things, Alex actively avoids using pronouns to refer to people in speech. They will say things like "I've been told that the flight was canceled" instead of "he said he canceled the flight". This is due to anxiety because they're not great at remembering pronouns & doesn't want to accidentally misgender anyone. So there is a lot of general confusion about my pronouns amongst the groups that are connected to Alex. (I don't really use social media, so informing people of my pronouns is more complicated than just putting them in my bio and calling it a day. I've asked Alex to please just say he/him, but they're so resistant and weird about it because of their irrational fears, which...honestly just feels transphobic now).

Now I've started to ask them to drop the nickname entirely, even privately. Call me James and nothing else forever. Jamie has been thoroughly ruined for me, I just feel nauseous when I see or hear it. But at this point, since I lost my job & most of my social network is through Alex, everyone calls me Jamie, and it's exhausting to correct them over and over when it's such a small, seemingly pedantic thing. I don't mind a little confrontation or advocating for myself, but this...this is beyond what I can handle without getting severely stressed out.

So I've been considering changing my name to something else that doesn't have such a common gender neutral/feminine nickname. Just start over. Reset.

But this would be the third time I've changed my name. The first time was like 6 years ago, and it only lasted a few months before I decided it didn't fit, and went back to using my deadname while I figured myself out. My family remembers this well, and 2 years ago when I told them I go by James now, expressed their frustration because I "keep changing things and it's confusing". I'm worried that if I change my name again, nobody will bother to take it seriously, they'll just assume I'll change it again, so why bother using the correct name at all.

Plus I do see how it could be considered petty or immature. It took years to settle on the name I have now. I put a ton of thought into it. I used to love it. I might be TA for letting something as unimportant as an overused nickname sway me to the point where I feel like I need to throw the whole name away.

I mean, I understand why younger trans people might do that, since they have less of their life established and are figuring out who they are, but I'm nearly 30, so I feel like I am getting too old for this. It's just tiring.

Idk, I probably won't make any decisions based on the results of this, but the feedback would be helpful to consider. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[aspartame-parent]

Random X-Men Headcanons!

Me and my friend have compiled a lot of headcanons for the X-Men (mainly formulated from jokes) so I wanted to put some here! A few of these are headcanons, most are jokes lol

Kurt listens to really peppy music when he's upset, the main one being the Beach Boys. Just imagine him, poor little German boy, singing Surfin' USA tiredly, trying to turn his mood around.

Erik listens to girly pop music, mainly Katy Perry and Ke$ha. Why? Because it's funny. Let him be girly pop.

Scott tells a lot of jokes but he's deadpan so people can never really tell. Like sometimes he'll just say some insane shit, plain faced, and see how the others react.

Dancing headcanons! Remy is a very good dancer, being particularly prolific in swing dancing. Logan somewhat refuses to dance, but he can line dance. Morph doesn't know how to dance, but they act like they can, dancing like a drunk white girl. Scott and Jean like to dance in private, but Scott gets nervous to dance in front of others. Ororo can bust that shit down.

Scott tries not to laugh when he, or someone else, is doing a bit. Like he tries not to break as he jokes along, to the point where he has to stop talking to not smile, biting inside of his mouth.

Furthermore! He also has a loud laugh, and people get a little caught off guard when they hear it. Me and my friend have described his laugh as a goose honk sound.

Kurt gaslights for fun, and he can get everybody pretty good, except Scott and Jean. You may think "oh because Jean's a telepath, right?" No, because--

Scott and Jean gaslight each other for fun, and they formulate these fake, big arguments, just as a bit. So, they're very familiar with gaslighting tactics, being they lie to each other as a joke, so when Kurt tries to, they immediately meet him-- A little too well, because Kurt is used to just messing with people.

Scott will occasionally freak people out by lowering his glasses (keeping his eyes closed of course). Like someone says "Hey, take a look at that." and he'll lower his glasses and go "Where?!" as a joke.

Everyone loves Kurt. Like, everyone. If Kurt doesn't like someone, everyone has a distaste for them as well.

Jean refers to her own psychic abilities as her "Jedi Mind Tricks"

This one isn't really a headcanon, just a running gag me and my friend do, but something bad will happen, or something inconvenient, and Remy will go "Don't worry.", insistently. Like a loud explosion can go off, and Remy will just say "Don't Worry." Occasionally this will be lengthened to "Don't what? Worry!"

We don't call Leech by his name. We call him Gneep Gnorp. That's it.

Kurt and Remy are super close (as pseudo brother in laws) and they hang out a lot, also doing that guy thing where they flirt with each other as a joke.

No one likes Emma. That's it.

Scott is autistic.

Warren is well manicured. He always has his hair just as he likes it, his wings always preened, his clothes always ironed. He'll a snazzy lookin' fella.

Rogue is a great singer. This barely a headcanon, her voice actress literally put out a song "Mojo Man (Ode to Remy LeBeau)", go listen to it.

Kurt's very coy and playful. Like, "Staaahhppp, hehe!" He also laughs at his own jokes all the time, like he cracks himself up.

Music headcanons! Here's just a few of the ones we made-- Scott likes dad rock obviously, mainly soft rock and folk rock (The Beatles, Hall & Oates, The Beach Boys, CSNY), Logan likes harder rock (Metallica, Alice Cooper, Motley Crue, Iron Maiden), Morph likes new wave and glam rock (Oingo Boingo, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears For Fears), Remy likes a fun mix of jazz, country, and soul, with a little rock sprinkled in (Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, Billie Holiday, Queen), Jubilee likes a lot of pop, pop-rock, that sorta thing (Cyndi Lauper, Madonna, ABBA, Wham!)

Kurt has a lil hyperfixation on pirates and ships-- this is kinda canon in the comics. But he loves talking about pirate history and ships and misconceptions.

I'm sure there's a bunch of ones I can't remember but there ya go lol

thanks to @the-death-defying-night-crawler for being funny and making these with me lol