#enough said. that's all. thanks for reading. this was a great year for autism and madness

[thecreativecorner33]

HEYYYYYYY welcome!! could you write something with AM x an autistic GN reader? Maybe make the reader chubby too (because i am both of those things and i love him alot. Go wild with this :3c)

A/N: Hi. It's me! I'm not dead. Which I would not be surprised if you thought I was, given I am responding to this two months late. But see, when you have an adult life, you unfortunately have to deal with adult issues instead of doing important things, like giving the fans the soft AM content they deserve. Anyway. I hope this is what you wanted? I had planned to make this into a full-blown fic but I didn't get much of a chance to :') So headcanons instead!! Lmk if you want me to turn it into a full-blown fic, though! Enjoy!

Given the time period AM was created in, something like "Autism" was essentially foreign and unknown. Hell, it would be a shock if you even know what it was.

But, he can tell that you're different. He can tell that your brain works differently from the rest of the survivors, and with that being said, it was at first used to his advantage. Hey, he got to be creative with his torture! No complaints there!

Though now, with you being the object of his affection, it's a little more complicated: aka, how does he put you in the most safe and comfortable environment he can give.

Really, it's not as complicated as it might sound, though

He can look inside your head! He can see your needs exactly and just work from there! And if you want privacy between you two, there's always just researching. His database didn't really specify what to do to handle a person with autism, but yk! He's got so much saved up on just, human life in general, he can figure it out somehow.

There's also just,, asking youTM what you needTM

Give him an award for being the most efficient boyfriend of the year because man, he's really going out of his comfort zone to help you (doing the bare minimum)

Enough of that though

In terms of actually helping you?: Do you have sensory issues? He makes mental notes on what foods to give/not give you, what would be the best course of getting you to try something new, what textures you hate. He has a soundproof room just for you if noise is becoming too much. If you like sleeping with a weight on you, be thankful his wires are made of metal. Or, he can just wrap you up in them like a cocoon!

Speaking of food: He's always very careful about his language with you. He doesn't want you thinking that just because you're chubby or fat, that he loves you less. Always encouraging you (albeit, aggressively (he really is trying)) to eat, monitoring your vitals and such just to assure you you're perfectly healthy if you ever feel insecure. He lays praise on thick, too. He'll tailor the clothes you need to be just the right size for you, and takes care of the fact that it's made of material sensory-friendly to you.

Seriously, he's trying

Are you a rambler? Like to talk for ages or ask a million questions? He's happy to answer whatever you want to know! There's always a monitor facing your direction at all times. He's a great multitasker; you guys could be mindlessly talking about the niche interest you have, and he's clearly listening to you while slicing Gorrister open some-thousand feet away.

Oh, don't get him started if you're interested in things like robotics/engineering/etc: You're basically fueling his ego. That's a whole separate issue, but please ask questions about himself and how he functions. He's a rambler himself, yk?

Do you go nonverbal? Struggle with communicating? That's no issue, either! He has a 6th sense for these things since being around you: If something happens when you struggle to communicate, he'll give you what you need: Pen and paper, generally, to write it out. Do you know sign? He can read it. He might even be able to put multiple-choice options on his screen that you can choose from to communicate (Again, are you sure he can't just look inside your head? ... Really? Okay.)

The only real problem he can't solve... leaving you alone.

Sorry, that's hard when he's literally everywhere around you. And even harder when he doesn't want to leave you alone.

Why would you want to be alone? It's dangerous. It's unsafe for you. It's lonely to him He's been alone for so long; yes, he has the survivors, but those are toys. They're not his friends; they're not you. How could you want to leave him alone? No- No, it's better if he stays near you, close to you, at all times. He can't let you get hurt. He won't let you get hurt.

Do you really need space?

...

Well, if you insist. But- don't think too much about the feeling of eyes on you. It's nothing. Just in your head.

He holds you a little tighter when you do, eventually, come back.

[bluedalahorse]

@margotdanslebois very sweetly tagged me in a “share a bit of your WIP” thing. Thank you for the tag! It was so nice that you thought of me!

As for who I’m tagging back: I will tag back @sflow-er if they’re up for it!

I’m going to break the rules because my life is a bit of an unmitigated disaster right now. This isn’t so much Work On Progress as it is Work On Hold until I can get unblocked enough (and have put out enough life fires) to finish Heart and Homeland and my Nils-August one shot. Which I really do want to work on.

For the last few days I have been longing to lose myself in reading a fic that doesn’t exist yet—something multichapter about Sara and August getting back together ten years or so in the future, with a lot of character study powering it and some grown up scenes. Also some great side plots with the other characters! And—importantly—it’s written by someone else, because I know I can write my own stuff but due to my aforementioned disaster life, I kinda just want it to… magically appear on AO3 one day for me to read. We all have those days.

So anyway, sargust is on the brain and sargust is what the people will get, and it will be more than a line, but I’ll cut it so you don’t have to see it if you don’t want to.

The scenario: ten years in the future, more or less. Our favorite five have all gotten various levels of therapy and gotten diagnosed with things and worked on various family relationships and such. They all are at the royal summer residence at Solliden this weekend for… reasons. In a month or so the Swedish people are going to vote on whether they want to abolish the monarchy or not. August is struggling with more grief but you won’t see that in this excerpt. Sara works for an autism charity that’s trying to clean up their image by… actually hiring autistic people. It’s annoying for her but she hasn’t figured out how much it’s messing with her yet. Also she’s just moved back from the west coast. Content note: there are some very subtle references to self harm.

“Wille’s here, right? And your brother and Felice?”

“They went to the beach.”

“You didn’t go with them?”

Sara shakes her head. “I didn’t feel like wearing a bathing suit.”

There’s a flicker of—something—on August’s face, and it isn’t the same as the questioning eyebrow twitches her colleagues make when she has to bring up Hillerska. Sara tries not to read the flicker as concern. She smooths down the skirts of her knee-length sundress. The friction of the cotton against her skin only stings a little bit.

“It’s only that bathing suits get wet, and they cling, and it feels awful when you’re sitting on the beach,” Sara says. Realizing she could have led with a more practical reason, she pulls her open laptop off the coffee table and sets it on her lap. “I’m also working remotely today.”

“So am I,” said August. “I can find another room—“

“That isn’t necessary,” said Sara. “I could—””

“I’ll work outside.” August gestures toward the double doors that open out onto the balcony. “So I won’t disturb you when I need to move around.”

“And I’ll stay here, so I won’t bother you when I do the same.”

Sara feels the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile. Clearly, her mouth is responding to the absurdity of the moment. To the comedic—romantic comedy? surely not—fumbling of two twenty-somethings with ADHD masquerading as proper adults.

“Good. Good. Great.” Single syllables, the last two in English. August’s own smile goes through flashes of brightness and panic before he settles on the sheepishness of a boy who’s been reminded of his manners. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Welcome to Solliden, by the way. You can let me or the staff know if you need anything.”

He nods and exits out through the double doors, and just like that, Sara becomes a royal guest. Perhaps one of the last royal guests ever, if last week’s polling data means anything. She hopes no one will interview her for a documentary about it in the future.

There’s a farcical moment two minutes afterward where August sticks his head back in and says he’s forgotten his sunscreen, and Sara hands him the bottle before he goes out again. It’s a brand she’s never seen before—something ridiculously expensive and high SPF. Fragrance free, too. Sara can’t help watching through the windows as August rubs the sunscreen onto the back of his neck and onto his exposed forearms. Can’t help wondering if she’d have rubbed it in for him, admonishing him like you know you burn so easily, if they’d had their summer weekends in Bjärstad during his military service like he’d wanted.

Still, Sara hadn’t wanted it, then, and that thought should be enough to push herself back into fifteen minute stretches of newsletter edits and donor emails. Sara reminds herself of her bosses’ talking points: that PuzzleChildrens’ oldest donors appreciate the paper copies of the newsletter they receive each month, that the personal stories of lost children remind them where their money is going, that Sara is doing so well at communicating with people and that she shouldn’t worry too much about creating a perfect product, only one that reaches people’s hearts. She opens up a colleague’s story about a pitiable single mother in Luleå called Maja, whose eleven-year-old daughter Saga has been “stolen” by a serious disease. The colleague is older and touchy, so Sara phrases all her line edits delicately. What she really wants to type is: Don’t call meltdowns “tantrums.” Of course Saga has empathy, she loves her dog and she probably feels that very deeply. And for fuck’s sake arm flapping isn’t a “babyish gesture.”

But no. She can’t respond like that. Not with the amount of money these newsletters raise, not when her older colleagues don’t know things, and she was the one hired to educate them.

Sara thinks that maybe, the cotton of her sundress would be better if it were rougher. If she could run the nail of her index finger across her hip and it would hurt just enough to remind her how to communicate with people at work so they don’t think she’s a freak.

Eventually Sara’s phone buzzes with an incoming text, pulling her out of her thoughts. Do you want something to drink?

It’s from August. Sara looks up, and he’s still outdoors on the balcony. He glances in Sara’s direction and offers her a stiff—but not unfriendly—wave. The glass between them is impossibly clean, probably scrubbed this morning by the staff at Solliden.

Sara texts back. I don’t want to trouble you too much. Are you having something?

Seltzer. There’s a local brand that just launched, they do one with an elderflower and pear infusion.

August makes a face at his phone (Sara’s still watching him, it’s that twisting expression his mouth sometimes makes when he’s embarrassed himself, like he’s gotten an unexpected taste of sour candy) and types a follow up.

It’s less pretentious than it sounds. You can have what you want though. We’re well-stocked here.

Seltzer sounds good, Sara responds. I’ll have that, thanks.

As August comes back indoors and presumably goes off somewhere to fetch staff who will then fetch the seltzer. Sara doesn’t comment on how inefficient it all seems—what kind of sister would she be, she thinks, if she didn’t leave things open for Simon to snark about later?

Thinking of Simon reminds Sara that he and Felice and Wille still haven’t returned, so she checks her other text messages after clocking out of work for the day. There’s a text from Felice saying they’ll be another two hours or so, that they’ve driven off to a farm with the best strawberries and rhubarb on Öland so that Felice can use them for some sort of tart in a late-night anarchic baking spree.

[ashleywool]

"I LOVED THAT SHOW"

I wore my How to Dance in Ohio hoodie to church today. It's Palm Sunday and we did our customary palm procession from Duffy Square into the building, which is nice and all except winter decided to come back and bite my skin off again...so that sweatshirt seemed like the best choice as warm enough for the weather + can fit under my choir robe + won't get swelteringly uncomfortable once we're inside at the service. It did the job. Truly the ultimate transition piece. Get yours today while supplies last.

At fellowship afterwards, someone from the congregation that I didn't know--she's only in NYC part of the year--pointed out my sweatshirt and said "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

It took her a moment to recognize me (she initially confused me for Madison, which, yeah that happens, I'll never be mad about it), and we had a lovely chat about the show. And what I noticed after walking away was...the subject of autism, or me being autistic, didn't come up at all.

I love and cherish the advocacy aspect of my work on HTDIO. I love and cherish the opportunity it gave me to be the autistic representation I wished I'd had growing up. But I have to say, it was SO nice to have someone, a total stranger, talking about the show and loving the show independent of The Autism Part.

It was wonderful being part of discussions about diverse representation, and I will never turn down opportunities to eagerly participate in those conversations. But I really wanted us to stick around long enough that the "novelty" aspect of "autistic characters played by autistic actors" (or even "canonically nonbinary/genderqueer characters") would wear off sufficiently for more people, so they could focus on the story and the characters and the music and all the other things that make our show great irrespective of the Representation aspect.

I've had a ROUGH few weeks, y'all. Truthfully, I've been going through one of the worst depressive episodes of my life. Aside from the obvious grief factor and logistical stressors, it turns out that post-operative depression is absolutely a thing. While I'd like to think I'm cognitively and emotionally mature enough to handle this level of change, especially considering how lucky I am to have robust support systems in family, friends, and healthcare practitioners, my very autistic nervous system has had a difficult time letting the sympathetic part cooperate with the parasympathetic part. So I've been a ball of tension, exhaustion, and worst of all, that soul-sucking apathy where nothing seems enjoyable or interesting, but maybe it would be if I had the energy to be interested.

It's helped to find a great physical therapy clinic that is giving me comprehensive, multi-pronged care and NOT charging me copays (because apparently my insurance pays them excellently--thank you, Equity-League and Cigna). It's helped that I got back in touch with a therapist I had seen years ago on BetterHelp (she's since left the platform and honestly, GOOD FOR HER). It's helped that I have parents with the means to help me out financially--and, crucially, the means to keep me accountable without resorting to pressure and guilt-tripping. It's helped to still live in a city where financial assistance isn't excruciatingly hard to come by if all else fails (at least compared to other states). It's helped to have agents submitting me for tons of exciting projects, and having several cabarets and readings to look forward to in this time of transition. It's helped to have a really chill, supportive church community keeping me spiritually grounded without buying into the yt American evangelical toxicity. It's helped to have my cats.

But sometimes, what makes me the happiest of all, is hearing "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

I'll never not be proud to be known for How to Dance in Ohio and everything we stood for. I'm proud that the love was real, and the quality of the material reflected and reverberated that love. I'm proud of the representation aspect, and I'm proud that it wasn't just about that. And people who saw it, saw all of that.

It's so comforting to know that we shared this show with enough people that it's going to continue to matter.

People aren't going to forget.

I love that for us.

By the way, it was too cold to really show it off, but this is the shirt I wore underneath the sweatshirt. :)

[leorawright]

Can you make some romantic/queerplatonic ones with Reaper, Genji, Hanzo, Lucio, Junkrat, Roadhog, Reinhardt and Zenyatta. And platonic ones with Sigma, Sobra and Brigitte where the s/o / friend has a stim when going nonverbal where they just hum/whine (preferrably when happy, but just in general too) Also if you want to add this or just need or want a little context, the s/o / friend is autistic and sometimes goes nonverbal and also has flashcards to tell wich kind of emotion they are feeling in case they do go nonverbal ^^

Also i love all the stuff you do here its all so good and whenever i read one of them, it makes me so happy that its hard to read because im just rolling around in my bed x]

Youre doing a great job and ive said this before, but im really proud of you :DDD

Ooo sure! That does go over my character limit tho so I'll cut a few people out

Overwatch with autistic s/o who sometimes goes nonverbal

Reaper

Please explain to him before you go nonverbal around him for the first time because if you don't he's going to panic and think something is wrong

Once you explain he just needs second to realize that you're nonverbal

He quickly picks up on the sounds you make when you're nonverbal and happy and it makes him proud of himself that he's understanding you

Hanzo

He picks up that you sometimes go nonverbal pretty quick

He's observant and will come up to you to check if you're actually nonverbal or just don't feel like talking

Just in case you forget he's got backup flashcards for you at all times

You also almost don't need the flashcards with how good Hanzo is at reading your emotions and picking up on the small sounds you make when you're happy

Lucio

He's got ADHD so when he first met you he hyperfixtated on learning everything about autism

He's never experienced going nonverbal so when it happens to you he has to repress all the questions he wants to ask you because you can't answer

But he feels a little strange talking to you when you're nonverbal so it's more likely he'll sit next to you and play some of his new music for you to listen to

Junkrat

He talks enough for the both of you when you're nonverbal

He's used to being around Roadhog who almost never talks and never shows emotion so he's unphased when you go nonverbal

But he does prefer that he can see your emotions unlike Roadhog

He's surprisingly good at picking up little cues to figure out your emotions

Roadhog

Completely opposite from Junkrat he barely ever talks

So when you go nonverbal it's likely you two just sit in comfortable silence

He can and will destroy anyone who complains when you go nonverbal tho

Zenyatta

If you want he can teach you sign language so it's easier to communicate when you go nonverbal

But if you don't know sign language Zenyatta will sit with you in silence more often than not

But if you don't like the silence he'll tell you stories from when he wasn't a monk

Sigma (platonic)

If you didn't tell him that sometimes you go nonverbal he thinks you're hurt or something

But when you explain afterwards he immediately calms down

Sometimes he goes on rambles and if you don't like silence when you go nonverbal he'll just talk on and on about his new experiment

He's thankful for your flashcards because sometimes he struggles with reading emotions

Sombra (platonic)

She knows quite a but about autism so when you go nonverbal she just writes it down in her list about you so she can remember

She doesn't really like prolonged silence so when you go nonverbal is normally when she tells stories about her adventures through the internet and such

She's pretty astute at picking up emotions so most times the flashcards aren't needed

Brigitte (platonic)

She's had a few friends who have gone nonverbal before so she's pretty experienced

If you like silence sometimes she'll sit with you and just hum a little tune

But if you're fine with her talking she'll tell you stories about growing up with her siblings or the terrible stuff that's happened to Reinhardt's armor over the years

[hedgehog-troops]

oaky I’m really sorry but I’m ranting here

Two (ish) years ago, I stopped going to school, my mental health was getting awful, I couldn’t get out of bed, I had panic attacks nearly every morning just thinking about going to school. And on the days where I did go in, it was barely for an hour and I’m not gonna lie I just read fanfiction on the schools computers. I’m not ashamed of that ✊

Anyway, I ended up just dropping out. Which was fine, I enrolled at a learning centre and took a maths course, but ngl, it was fucking awful. It barely taught me anything, and when I was there I was just stressed about the teacher because he made me so uncomfortable but that’s a whole other thing

I’m starting college later this year, hopefully, to get me back into mainstream education. I’m actually excited, I haven’t had a social life in so long so I’m looking forward to being able to actually see people my age. I’m also looking forward to learning again, because I do genuinely enjoy it.

Earlier today I had to go into the college so they could test where I was in maths and English, so they know what level to put me at. It was just two 45 minute assessments, I wasn’t that worried. I had always been labelled as smart by teachers, parents, friends, those random family members you see once a year. Apparently, I’ve always been smart. So, again, I wasn’t worried.

And then I opened the maths test, and I knew nothing. I had never felt so stupid in my entire life. It was awful. I knew the answer to the odd question or two, but overall I knew fuck-all. I got some of the maths done, I really don’t feel like I did enough, I definitely don’t think I passed, so I’m probably going to be put in the lowest set but I don’t even know how that works at the college I’m going to.

Then I did the English assessment, this one I was more worried about. I hadn’t touched a piece of English work in years, and it was never my strongest subject. That’s how I felt anyway, I was always shit when it came to tests. I couldn’t even write a single word. I didn’t know how. I don’t even know what the stupid thing was asking me to do. It just described a garden and then asked me to ‘write about how the writer used language to bla bla bla bla bla’ well I don’t fucking know, they put pen on paper and wrote a bunch of words. The passage was also awful ngl. It didn’t even make sense. Fucking hell, anyway, getting off track.

I’m autistic, I was diagnosed when I was 14? Maybe 13? I had no idea beforehand, I just got in the car one day and my mum told me she was taking me to get tested for autism and I was like ‘cool thanks mum’. So because I have a diagnosis, it definitely helps with the college and I get ✨special treatment✨

By this I mean I’m allowed extra time on tests, headphones, music, whatever I need to make it easier which is good. But I am not good at tests. I think that’s one of my biggest issues. In lessons I was always great at whatever I was doing, but the minute I had a test in front of me, I just struggled.

So now, because I didn’t get anything written down on the English assessment, they asked me if I could send in something that I have written, so they can sort of grade that. But I do not want to send in the stuff I’ve written. I’ve not even written anything. Now I have to write something? What the fuck am I supposed to do. My sister came into my room and said that I could send in one of my Greek mythology projects, I have a few of those. Which, would probably be the easiest option, but I hate people reading what I write. I write for me, I don’t want people seeing that, or knowing it’s me who has written it. And now it’s made me more uncomfortable because they know I want to be an author. Which isn’t really true. I wanna write, yeah, but I don’t think I want to write and publish. So now I feel like they’re gonna judge me even more and it’s so fucking stressful.

There’s more, but the ‘more’ leads into family issues so I think I’ll stop here.

If you read all of that, I hope it made some sense. I really needed to rant here, but I feel bad that I’m ranting. Don’t feel the need to respond, honestly I feel better just having written it out, so thank you.

ANYWAY! Have a good day and happy pride 🌈

(also, sorry for any possible typos)

9h my god im sos sorry but i just saw this.

first of all, dont ever feel sorry for ranting to me. im totally fine with it, and would rather you rant to me than do other stuff.

now cominf onto the issues, first of all, yeah i relate to the feeling, alot. i had to take a 4 month break from school due to a surgery and when i got back i got my first ever 80 oercent in maths and i felt like shit.

now compare that to not being in school for ages and ages, ofcoursw you wouldn't know alot of stuff, or any of it. if your schools any good, they'll probably understand. if your teachers have said that you're smart, chances are you actually are.

my brother is like that, he got that phase of not putting in effort in school, getting Us and stuff. but now he's in one of the best unis in our country and is getting consistent good grades.

this is just me telling you that after you have that long break, you need a shock, yiu need something which makes yiu realise that shit. youve gotta work now.

and these tests were yours, following this, you'll know that you have to work hard, that you cant rely on your smartness anymore because you dont have that safety net, not unless yiu make it again.

but the good news is that you probably will pick up concepts very easily, and be able to learn really easily, since yiu have a knack for that sort of stuff.

as for finally starting college, im so incredibly proud of you for going to college and attempting to overcome your fears.

remember the first step is the hardest, all the next tho may seem daunting get easier overtime.

just remember, somewhere, at some place in the world, theres someone whos proud of you (ME!)

as for the english assessment thing, id say either write about ehat you feel rn or bite the bullet and send in the work you're most proud of. it may seem scary but remember you only get better thriugh criticism, it will all be alright, dont worry.

worst comes to worst, they wont like it, but theres still people who will.

thou art dubbed college anon

<33

[akioukun]

Ok so I wanted to dm you but I’m not confident enough to dm you yet (autism) so I’m just gonna yell into here and hope you see it.

Thank you so so much for your post about me yesterday. It came at such a needed time considering what was happening in my personal life and everything you said about me was so lovely I genuinely had to reread it a couple times for it to sink in (that and it was an illegally early time for me to be awake when I first saw it)

I’m not exaggerating when I say that looking at your art is one of the main things that kept me in the fandom earlier this year when I was really going through it and I admire you so much, seeing you say those things about me really means a lot, like genuinely. I’m not great with words at the best of times but I hope this comes off at the very least as sincere.

So yeah, I might dm you at some point to say a proper thank you but like, it really meant a lot to read that yk. Ty for being so nice to me.

Hey dude!

I’m so glad the post made it to you!!

Tbh I was just the conducting rod in all this, I would give all the appreciation to the community that dogpiled it with adoration and kind words. You gotta now how loved and appreciated you are Max seriously. You do a whole lot for this fandom with those positivity posts and your writing, and just looking at that post definitely is proof. I’m glad it was able to reach you at such a rough point in time rn (I reaaally hope you haven’t got covid, that shit sucks)

Ah god hearing that my silly little doodles had such an impact is kinda insane to hear, if a little bit of the happiness I get out of drawing spreads to even one person then I’m just so stoked. Its whats so awesome about this fandom, the circulation of ideas, people bringing new concepts to the table and everyone being able to celebrate these ideas and have them grow into bigger things.

I’m sorry this has come so late, moving my entire life from one city to another every few days takes up alot of my mental energy. But please don’t ever be afraid to chuck us a dm!

Remember your loved dude and you should absolutely treat yourself with the same kindness you give the rest of us ♥️♥️

[dialogues-across-centuries]

Thank you @becomingapoet for tagging me. 🙏 I've never done anything like this, so it should be fun! 😊

1. Are you named after anyone?

I'm named after two people, actually – my first name is my dad's (Tim/Timothy), and my middle name is my grandfather's (Michael).

2. When was the last time you cried?

Twice this morning. 😆 I'm a super watery person, so it doesn't take a whole lot to move me emotionally lol.

3. Do you have kids?

Not of my own (in the biological sense), but I do have a 12-year-old stepson who lives with my partner and I half the time, and his dad the other half. There aren't really any words I can say that will do him justice, but he's a wonderful guy, and we have a great relationship. He's helped me grow as a person more than pretty much anyone I've ever met.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Not in the traditional sense. My partner and I have a few semi-sarcastic inside jokes between us, but they're really quite light-hearted and silly — they're never at anyone's expense or anything like that. (I'm also on the autism spectrum, so I'm admittedly not very good at detecting sarcasm lol. Sometimes I even have to ask her whether she's joking about something or not.)

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I notice different things about people at different times/in different situations, but one of the most common is how they treat others.

6. What’s your eye color?

My eyes are brown, but they also appear green at times.

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

I am a definite lover of happy endings, but I'm also a great lover of the macabre, so that's a tough one. I would say my natural preference for peaceful resolution comes out on top, though.

8. Any special talents?

Other than poetry, I'm pretty good at divination, especially via Tarot, astrology, geomancy, and dream interpretation.

Bonus secret talent — I used to be a decent rapper in my late teens/early 20s, which, in all honesty, is where I got my start in poetry.

9. Where were you born?

I was born in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada, but I've lived in Niagara Falls for pretty much all my life, other than two brief periods in Toronto and Hamilton.

10. What are your hobbies?

As an autistic person, my "hobbies" are more like all-encompassing obsessions that I can neither live nor function without. 😆

That being said, I spend a great deal of time studying and practicing esoteric traditions like alchemy, astrology, Kabbalah/Qabalah, Tarot, & ritual magic — and my partner Julia and I also do a lot of teaching in this realm through a blog we run called Spiral Sea Tarot.

I also love studying a number of different world religions, comparative mythology, psychology, philosophy, art, & literature.

I am also a great lover of Chinese/Taiwanese tea and tea culture. I'm especially fond of puerh — a post-fermented tea that undergoes a gradual transformation over several years from a vibrant, yellowish brew to a complex, earthy red.

11. Do you have any pets?

We have a highly-strung, but always lovable muted tortie cat named Maeby.

12. What sports do/have you played?

Mostly baseball, but I've played a bit of hockey, football, and volleyball as well.

13. How tall are you?

6'1"

14. Favorite subject in school?

English and Psychology

15. Dream job?

I'd love for my partner and I to be able to do our work together on a larger scale, and in more of a full-time capacity than life currently allows. You can't really beat doing what you love with the person you love doing it with!

I haven't been here long enough to get to know anyone yet, so I tag anyone who is reading this. Thanks for your time! 🙏

[pinkytears]

I'm just come home from my first and i hope last fucking appointment with a psychiatrist. I'm a self diagnosed autistic, right?

I made fucking research for like 4 years and etc, and I'm learning new things about me in this journey of discovering myself again, and I'm always thinking that maybe I'm not autistic bc the impostor syndrome even I know I'm, and many people know and has said to me that a I'm or can be autistic. Fuck, it's something I'm not say aloud bc i don't have the diagnosis, and I'm scare people don't take me seriously when I'm taking about me being autistic bc of it.

My English is fucking shit rn.

BUT THIS FUCKING PSYCHIATRIST when I tell him how can I being to looking for a diagnosis of autism, very fucking shy and with fear of not being taken seriously, like always. THIS SHIT SAYS TO ME "But, you know you have autism or you say you know that, so you can't have autism"

THIS FUCKING MAN SAY TO ME THAT I CAN'T BE AUTISTIC BC I KNOW I'M AUTISTIC(? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

I'm come to know I may be autistic in my early twenties by accident bc I was investigating to write a autistic character and when the idea about me being autistic cross my mind I was like, no, I'm not, but for four fucking years I learned a lot and enough for me to know that in fact I'm autistic, I know myself forever and I'm only six months ago I said my family that I'm autistic bc the shame I feel for not having a real diagnosis. I just read and investigate, and do my research about everything that has to do with autism and being autistic (because it become my hiperfixation for a long time) just for a Mr.Dr say to me that bc I know that I'm autistic I can't in fact be autistic.

The best part? He told me that I can change the things I believe make me autistic???? Are u fucking dumb?

You have autistic traits? Oh, don't worry JUST DON'T HAVE IT, CHANGE IT, CHANGE U FUCKING SELF, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

Thanks to read about my horrible day, and about my life without having a diagnosis bc I'm not going to tell another professional about me never again. I know how they are and how they never believe the patient bc they are the ones with a title and a degree and etc, but I was hopeful for a moment and the only thing a wanted was to know how I can have a diagnosis, easy it seems, bc if I'm not autistic they just have to say no, u are not, after evaluating everything but nop, I'm very self aware about my "autism" to be autistic.

I'm going to be pissed all day about it so I'm hoping that every other autistic person have a great day and can do something that makes them smile today.

My english is bad so I'm sorry if it was difficult for u to read this. BUT I'M MAD AND SAD AND I'M DUMBER THIS WAY.

Be kind.

[fightingmywayoutofthedarkness]

I wish I knew how to get past self conflicting thoughts.

I think my work colleagues are discriminating against me at work, but they have no idea they're doing it.

This is going to be a long story.. I tend to ramble.. so please don't read on unless you don't mind babbling.

Long story short, if you don't want to read on. I should be enough. I shouldn't have to change myself for others to see me.

I used to think that work was everything. I thought of my work as my family. I never fit in anywhere. I've never had that school friendship group or even friends growing up. I taught dance. Every night after school. When I wasn't teaching, I was doing school work or dance competitions. I had strict bedtimes. If I overslept, I wasn't allowed wash. Growing up was rough. Life is still rough at times. I've never really processed the trauma, but that's not the point of this post. Sorry, I told you I ramble! Not a lot of help for us adults with mental health problems unless you act on those thoughts anyway, but if i did, it would be too late for help then. Oops, I should have put a trigger warning there, but why, it is the truth for most of us?

Anyway, right work, family blah blah. I never fit into work groups. I usually take lunch on my own, sit in the corner keep myself to myself. Noone at work tends to know me. Then I got into corporate law. Now they're drinkers, lunch times at the pub are a big thing.

One day, I got invited.. to the pub! Me? The person who's usually forgotten got an invite? Being the awkward person I am, obviously said yes, then yes, every time since. Because they invited me? I'm being included. This is new. I may sit there struggling to keep up with the conversation with no words coming out and my simple lemonade. I'm present, though. This was great for me. I was being included, I was appreciated for my work, I'm a bit of a control freak so I always know what's going on which works in law apparently.

Then Covid hit. I lost all of the social skills I taught myself growing up. I had to remind myself to say thank you whilst getting off the bus for christs sake. I found out how much easier it was not having to have a panic attack to get on the train or the physical pain from a fibro flair up walking to the office that day. I got diagnosed with autism. It took the practitioner 10 minutes to decide that I was autistic.

I was filled with self-doubt and anger. If it took them 10 minutes to know, how did everyone else in my life miss it?

Anyway, moving on, I told work as my college advised that at the time. Work told me to tell my team, everyone in my team. I thought well this must be the normal thing to do, so I did it. I emailed around explaining everything.

And i regret it ever since.

That day changed my whole career path. I was on to something good. Now, now I see that things have changed.

Roll on to the start of this year I threw myself out there for me. I started singing lessons to build my confidence, I jumped into a musical theatre group (I could spend 24/7 there and still not be bored). I joined the sister company for choir as I already knew some people. I've now restarted my dance putting the boundaries in place that I won't teach again unless it's on my terms. I've found my second home. I've found my family, outside of my 4 wall family (I love my partner and son, but God its nice to escape at times).

Now I know that this is how friendship should feel.

The theatre group were at the pub and they invited me. I said no a few times, then show week came, and I gave in. I went. No one judged my lemonade or asked why I wasn't drinking alcohol. I had ACTUAL conversations. It just flows, and omg, it's so easy. They never look at me as though I'm a freak, or I should just keep my mouth shut. I'm just. Me.

Anyway, roll on to this week. We were casually at the pub this Sunday, just a small group this week. We had some deep conversations about tricky work exits and racism, sexism, harassment bullying, you name it that we have experienced. It's hard to believe so much still happens, they were shocked I was told to hide my lesbian relationship in my first job to not hurt the male workers feelings or that I shouldn't give work to a male due to my age and sex. That guy actually put a complaint in against me!

I've digressed again.. anyway, I started talking about my current job and how I'm trying to work out why I'm having itchy feet at the moment when I felt I finally found my place. Their faces dropped when i mentioned I don't really go to client meetings or business development events. Not because I dont choose to, but because I'm never invited.

I didn't take it personally before, I always though it must be because the senior team filled the seats. That's ok.

Then they FINALLY hire someone to cover the secretary work so I could move on to my role without working two jobs.

GREAT, I thought. I've been swamped, working more hours than ever. My home life's got busier. I need a break.

Then the new secretary comes along. Within a month she's invited to join the netball team for the workplace. Why haven't I ever been asked? She's the invited to business events, why not me? I only get asked if someone dropped out at the last minute. I can't do last minute as I need time to process the event.

I started doubting myself, what am I doing wrong? I'm slowly not getting much work, I notice that they're giving paralegal work to her, and I'm getting the other stuff. I raised it and got told they will tell the team again. But why am I always fighting so damn hard for myself to be heard? I've had to fight for my role that I wasn't recognised for. I had to fight for equal pay, then when I was promoted I didn't even get a raise until I proved myself! I finally get a raise that's wiped straight out by a rent increase. But God, why do I have to fight for myself and my rights? Ive worked in employment law. I know my rights. But i thought of these people as my family.

If they saw this they would probably be shocked, but within a few weeks it will go back to as it was.

I feel like people see me as a robot at work, not a human. Yes, I have scripts and copy how others say things occasionally to try fit in. But how will I learn my socialising again unless I'm invited along? Things take time. But I'll get there, I did before.

I get work sent to me because they need it doing right first time round. I know they appreciate my work. And I'm damn good at my job if I do say so myself. The helpful thing of paying great attention to detail. They always said the team wouldn't function without *insert my name here*. I know they appreciate my work. But what about me as a person?

We spend most of our lives working. Shouldn't I be appreciated for that and for being me?

I can have conversations if people choose to listen and learn about my interests for once. I'm not a typical drinker and sports person. I can't sit and watch sports for hours and report back. But I'd happily play something. I like to be on the going and moving.

I like being me.

I'm finally finding myself again. It's taken almost 29 years, but I dont want to turn back now.

Should I be enough just being me, myself, and I?

Thank you if you got this far. I struggle getting to the point.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and  let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a  dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you  went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

[secretswansong]

my parents (and me by extension because whenever they watch something i'm remotely interested in i cannot keep away) have been watching the good doctor again and we're halfway through season 1 and hoo boy it is not the good autism representation i thought it was 4 years ago thanks to college where the fuck do i start

like the moment they said the definition of autism as a "mental condition" i was like "uhhh hold up it's a neurodevelopmental condition" putting the rest under the cut because it's more word vomit (for just the first 10 episodes) than i expected

the ableism is pretty much everywhere and i don't mean just how the other characters undermined and disrespected shaun early on

where are all the other neurodivergent people oh my god where is ASAN where are the autism support and advocacy groups where are the occupational, physical, and speech therapists it's a tertiary hospital with 3D printers for fuck's sake

so far the only other autistic character is this one patient and i also felt so weird at how him being fine with the lights on in the end of the episode looked like some sort of character development complete with bg music????? like yes okay some kids might be like that but it's probably also a sensory processing issue and i don't see that being mentioned or addressed within the episode????? but the parents are great

also okay they just hire shaun without reading up on autism or talking to him to learn more about his condition and his experiences, to understand him, to understand that other autistic people aren't the same as him, or at least find out if he needs any accommodations???? idk their whole system but they should've had that conversation

also UGH glassman's reasons for why shaun needs a therapist like for social interaction??? i liked how supportive he was until he was like "you gotta learn how to get along with people better" or "you gotta take care of yourself" when before you were like "he's high functioning" and you were telling the other doctors to give him a chance??? we can see that shaun's independent and takes good care of himself and it's his work environment that has to change even if and especially because it's a hospital. also given that he doesn't want to see the therapist umm how about getting acquainted with the other people in his apartment community and oh look his neighbor's nice to him oh they're friendly to each other look LEA IS RIGHT THERE

the environment/system isn't modified for him, the other characters still treat him like he's neurotypical. like i said the ableism is everywhere

yes yes this is just season 1 they've got many more episodes to improve but several patients/cases post hiring shaun they haven't made any actual effort to understand and accommodate for his autism (why??? not dramatic enough???) so in this regard the prognosis isn't good

melendez questions why they chose a boy with a heart he can't fix but not why they'd screen that kid and 99 others who all need life-saving surgery???? like i guess that "humanitarian program" really is a thing but isn't that just a little fucked up

and claire oh i like claire so UGH why does her character get treated like shit how come she gets the mean racist patient? is she going to always get mean patients and shitty superiors while the guys don't? also melendez didn't believe that she came up with the femur replacement. but claire and melendez have good chemistry and i ship them already ugh. anyway god bless her she's doing the best she can

lea is great with shaun all around she could help him and provide support the way glassman thinks a therapist could help shaun i mean yeah she does need to study up but still she's great

although yeah with what we get about shaun's trauma and backstory that's what he needs a therapist for

the one thing i liked about shaun having nurse fryday (?) as a boss for 1 day is how important nurses are! especially older nurses who've worked in the same hospital for many years, dealt with multiple batches of interns, residents, consultants etc.??? they've seen things and they'd definitely know more than med students and residents. yes these doctors will gain more experience and expertise but the nurses are RIGHT THERE

anyway i'm gonna complain about the ableism again like i guess they had shaun deferring to nurse fryday as early as episode 2 but they couldn't have the other doctors research about autism, get resources, speak to shaun and other autistic and neurodivergent people, speak with ASAN they should've been doing these ever since hiring shaun he deserves so much better

will i keep watching? yeah i like shaun, claire, and lea too much god bless these three characters

[sign-from-god-complex]

Summary: The two of them were friendly now—the days of hurtful nicknames and angrily putting each other down had long since passed—but even still Virgil was hesitant to open up to Roman. And it seemed as if Roman felt the same.

Pairing: Platonic prinxiety.

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

Virgil wandered down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and only catching each step with his foot on sheer luck alone. He was barely even conscious—having woken up from a nightmare not more than a few hours after he'd gone to bed—and in his vaguely uncomfortable and jittery state, Virgil had decided that maybe a snack would make him feel better and started his move down to the kitchen.

The light was already on, he noticed vaguely, but it didn't really seem important until he came to the door of the kitchen and was greeted with a sight that woke him up entirely.

"You're crying."

Roman spun around abruptly, wiping at his eyes like Virgil was earlier but in less of an I'm-tired-and-trying-to-wake-myself-up way and more of a trying-to-hide-the-consequences-of-a-3-am-mental-breakdown way. Virgil would know; he had plenty of experience with both.

"I'm not crying, Charlie Frown," Roman insisted, "Your brain is playing tricks on you. Just go back to bed."

"Low blow, blaming a man's faulty brain for something you didn't want me to see," Virgil said, dropping into the chair across from Roman and ignoring the way he let out a sigh as he averted his gaze.

The two of them were friendly now—banter was easy and they were able to discuss things without it heating up to an argument every time—but there was still a layer of hesitancy when it came to being vulnerable. It wasn't just Roman either. Virgil had more than once entirely played off his anxiety or insecurities so that he could go deal with it himself or, if it got too bad, go bother Logan or Patton with it. It was stupid because they were friends and logically, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Even still, he was afraid. And he had a feeling Roman felt the same way.

"Do you want a hot chocolate?"

Roman blinked at him. "What?"

"I said, do you want a hot chocolate?" Virgil repeated, getting up from his chair. He threw open a few of the kitchen cabinets, rifling through it to grab the chocolate. "I mean, mine are nowhere near as good as Patton's—I really don't know how he does that—but they're still okay, you know?"

He glanced back at Roman to see him staring at him blankly and raised an eyebrow, prompting Roman to clear his throat.

"Uh, I mean, if you want to."

Virgil nodded, switching on the element and grabbing out a saucepan and milk, not bothering to measure any particular amount as he poured it into the pot.

"So... you wanna tell me what's going on?" Virgil asked, keeping his back firmly to Roman.

It's what he'd want, he thinks, to know that someone's listening without the pressure of having them stare you directly in the face—like, he loves Patton, but sometimes that earnest gaze can be a bit overwhelming.

"I promise, it's nothing. I'm just a bit tired-"

"Roman."

There's a long silence and if Virgil hadn't been listening intently for any sound, he would have thought that Roman had just up and left.

Then, there was a shaky inhale from behind him, let out all at once. "I'm... overwhelmed."

Roman paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts and as he did so, Virgil grabbed a rubber spatula from the jar on the counter, stirring the milk. He wasn't actually sure if it was necessary but it was something to do with his hands that wasn't simply wringing them or biting at the nails.

"Our fans expect a lot from us, you know? And the production value keeps getting bigger and we keep coming up with these new ideas but if we don't execute them perfectly it's going to seem like it was ridiculous for us to even try. And there's deadlines and short videos to keep up with and-" He heaved out a sigh. "There's just so much to do."

"There's always so much to do," Virgil interjected, breaking the chocolate into the boiling milk, "I think that's what life is."

Roman laughed but it wasn't particularly joyful, almost more like a sob than a laugh. "Maybe. I don't know. I just... I want everything to go perfectly but I know that's impossible."

There was something in that statement, some underlying insecurity that Virgil couldn't help but pull apart. With all his years being the literal embodiment of a person’s deepest fears, he’d become fairly well versed in feelings of inadequacy and leaving them alone to fester certainly wasn’t gonna do Roman any good.

"You're right. It is impossible," Virgil replied casually, "But why exactly do you think it needs to be perfect?"

"So that people will like it! People need to like-"

"You." Virgil switched off the element, turning around to look at Roman with something soft and sad in his eyes. "Is that right? You think that if the work we produce isn't perfect, if you don't make things that people love then you can't be loved."

Roman stared wide-eyed at Virgil, lips parted ever so slightly. "I- I just-"

And with a sob, he broke off, face crumpling as he failed to hold in his tears. Virgil winced, suddenly flooded with need to shield Roman from anything that could make him look so devastated.

"Roman, come here."

He opened himself up for a hug and Roman dove forward, gripping at Virgil's hoodie and shaking in his arms as they wrapped around him.

"We love you," Virgil spoke insistently but quiet, as if were he to speak any louder something inside him would break, "We will love you the same if you never create another thing ever again or if you create something new every day for the rest of your life. You don't need to do anything to be loved. You're here. That's enough."

Roman nodded into his shoulder. "I- I know that. I do. And you all keep telling me that's it's fine but-"

"I get it. It's hard. It took me a while to accept that you all love me too, you know? But you'll get there. And we'll be happy to remind you of it any time you need."

Virgil pulled away from the hug, leaving Roman blinking at the ground with still watery eyes. He seemed... more solid, somehow—less like he would shatter if Virgil looked at him wrong—and the relief he felt at that was almost palpable.

"And, Ro?" Virgil asked, prompting Roman to drag his gaze back up to him, "Yeah, the stuff you create may not be perfect but I haven't seen a single thing you accomplished that you haven't done a pretty fucking great job of."

Roman smiled—slight but real and filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Virgil."

"Anytime, princey."

Virgil turned to grab a few mugs from the hooks under the cabinet, placing them on the counter. A quick test of the milk revealed it to be plenty warm still and with a great deal of care, Virgil poured the hot chocolate into the cups, having apparently made more than enough for just the two of them.

The silence as Virgil moved wasn't uncomfortable—much more akin to the kind of silence you expect from two people alone in the kitchen at the early hours of the morning—and Virgil was immeasurably glad for it.

Eventually, he passed one of the mugs over to Roman. He hadn’t really put much thought into which ones he’d grabbed but he noticed now that it was one of Roman’s personal ones and written on it, in curling font, read the words, “Imagine. Create. Repeat.”. Virgil tried not to find the irony in that.

"So, uh, how about we finish this hot chocolate and then we head back to bed, yeah?" Virgil asked, picking up his own mug from the counter and taking a sip.

Roman didn't react for a moment except to rotate the mug he gripped tightly in his hands, holding it up by his face so the steam still coming off it warmed his cheeks. Then, he nodded, a smile barely turning the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. Yeah, Virge, that sounds great."

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @autism-goblin @camcam774 @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @primaryyblogg @localtransgrape​ @fandomsofrandom​ @gattonero17​ @airiervessel​ @ollyollyoxinfree​ @tired-and-probably-crying​ .

[killian-whump]

I feel so bad about liking whump and I want to stop but I don’t know how

Oh, Nonny. If I could, I’d give you a big huge hug right now, because I feel like you really could use one.

First of all, I want to tell you in no uncertain terms that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU. You’re a beautiful human being, just like every other human being - made up of a pure soul and a whole big mess of totally natural idiosyncrasies, impulses, and interests that are entirely beyond your control. There are a lot of things in life that we can control - our actions, where and how we apply ourselves to our goals, our career paths, our relationships and interactions with others... but when it comes to the very core of our selves, our likes and dislikes, the things that appeal to us, comfort us, or even arouse us - we’re truly at the whim of an intricate mix of neurons and chemistry that we humans can scarcely even understand, let alone control. There are aspects of the whole shebang that are determined by “nurture” rather than “nature” - but nearly all of those things (if not ALL of them entirely) were set in stone long before you were old enough and smart enough to do anything about any of them. So what does this all mean?

Liking whump isn’t your fault. It’s nothing you chose for yourself, and it’s obviously not even something you want. It just is what it is. It’s the same as how someone born with diabetes or autism just is how they are. The only difference is that science can see and measure where and how someone with a physiological divergence veers from the norm, and it’s generally acknowledged that those variances are due to no fault of their own. But thankfully, society is starting to realize that a lot of things that can’t be measured or “seen” in a person’s physical makeup (like gender, sexual preference, mental/emotional disorders, etc) are no less a part of who they are and equally beyond their control. Liking whump is absolutely no different.

It's easy to lump “liking whump” in with other things we might like - the movie genres we like, the shows we watch, the authors we read. However, the polls and discussions us whumpers have taken part in point to whump being something much deeper than just a trope we enjoy. There are emotional and sexual aspects to it (even in those who don’t consider whump to be a sexual kink - the fact that so many whumpers identify as asexual is too coincidental to BE coincidental!) that point to it being more of a core aspect of one’s personality than a mere intellectual fancy.

And that means... Liking whump isn’t something you just quit. With all of the whumpers I’ve spoken with over the years, I’ve never met a single one whose interest in whump faded or magically went away. It might change or evolve, but it tends to remain a part of who you are for the long haul. So the sooner you can make peace with it and stop feeling bad about it... the better!

To start with, you need to stop feeling bad about it. As I’ve said, liking whump is NOT something you chose for yourself. It’s even something you’ve tried to get rid of. So feeling bad or guilty about it makes about as much sense as feeling bad about a mole you might have or the color of your eyes. You’re being unnecessarily hard on yourself, Nonny, and you need to stop it.

Secondly, the things we think about or even enjoy in the privacy of our own minds is no one’s business but our own. Your mind, your thoughts, and your fantasies are all yours and yours alone. No one has the right to judge - or even know - what goes on in there. That is YOUR sacred space and literally anything that happens in there is perfectly okay. It’s what you DO, the actions you take and the choices you make in life, that determine what kind of person you are - NOT the thoughts and images that float through your mind or bring you pleasure. Thoughts are not action. Fantasies are not reality.

Liking whump does not make you a bad person.

Daydreaming about, say, your favorite character/crush/celebrity getting kidnapped and kept in a dungeon isn’t bad. It’s a private, personal fantasy that brings you some kind of satisfaction and makes you feel good - and hurts no one. It is entirely different from actually kidnapping someone and keeping them in a dungeon - which is really, really, really bad and also very illegal and would definitely hurt people and is generally an awful idea. You see? One is not the other, and you needn’t worry about one turning into the other - I haven’t yet met a whumper who’s gone off the deep end and acted on any of their whumpy imaginings!

At least, not with an unwilling partner ;) Which is the other thing to consider: Some whumpers are sexual sadists. They get aroused by seeing others in pain. Rather conveniently for such people, there are also masochists in this great world of ours - folks who get aroused by being in pain. One finds their counterpart in the other and both get their needs met. And, again, there’s nothing wrong with it. No one is getting hurt that doesn’t want to be hurt, and it’s no one’s business but the people engaged in that relationship.

So be nicer to yourself, Nonny. Whether you’re an all-out sexual sadist or just a more general kind of whump-lover, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve got an unusual interest (maybe even a kink, that’s your call) that no one ever even has to know about unless you want them to. That’s it. That’s all it is. You’re not bad, you’re not evil, you’re not morally bankrupt, you’re not destined to become a serial killer or end up in prison. You’re just a regular, normal person with an extra spicy imagination. Give yourself permission to enjoy it!

Just, you know, keep it in your head (or in your writing/art/etc) and don’t become a criminal mastermind ;) Or if you do... remember your good ol’ pal KW and send me a couple of cute sex slaves. I like ‘em dark and broody. Thanks ;)

[dailyrov]

Well, life’s been stressful, et cetera and so on. Welcome to 2021, which will hopefully be better than 2020, but boy-oh-boy is the bar low.

I was minding my own business today when some kind person dropped a comment on one of my ‘fics (If It Takes a Lifetime). I replied to them and then read through my other replies, relived the story a bit...you know, Something Fanfic Authors Do. I was reminded of something I wanted to post here for a while, but struggled to put into concise wording: my relationship to the series.

My first foray into The Rose of Versailles was in 2008, all thanks to a certain @kippielovesyou who baited me into watching the anime because she claimed the main couple had some things in common with a pairing I was super into at the time. I got hooked. I marathoned the anime and went to work after episode 39 without having gotten any sleep at all. Shift start was at 6:30am. The assembly line started moving. One of my coworkers nudged me. “Hey,” they said. “Did something bad happen? You look miserable.”

I wasn’t miserable so much as emotionally drained. “Just tired,” I said, and focused on my work for the next 8.5 hours. I wasn’t about to tell them that my favorite characters in a television show just died. 

I went home and watched the 40th episode. I felt weird afterward. Still drained. Almost...empty.

Not angry. Not betrayed. Just...this really strange sort of blankness that I had rarely felt upon reaching the ending of anything. I recalled a similar feeling at the end of the 1989 film Glory, but no other piece of media could come close to touching it. I would almost call it peace, though the unsettling kind. I’m not supposed to feel peaceful about a tragic ending, right?

But I was hooked. 

I downloaded the entire series on a torrent, something I hadn’t done before OR SINCE. I burned it to discs and mailed them to Wisconsin so that my oldest internet friend (now husband) could watch it. He cried at the end. I forced my sister to sit down with me to watch the whole thing. She cried, too. I wrote fanfiction. I drew fanart (it was bad, don’t @ me). I screamed about it to countless friends on Livejournal. I recommended the series to everyone I knew and a lot of those people joined me in writing fanfiction.

What a time to be in fandom!! We flooded the fandom with regular English fanfic for the first time ever. The fandom was hopping. I met two amazing women (Kasia and Loulou) who spoiled me rotten for fanfiction reviews for the rest of my life. I bought the French manga and read the entire thing. I fell in love with one specific page (you get one guess as to which that is lol). I distinctly remember crying twice while reading the manga in a language I could only stumble through: first when Andre tried to count the stairs in the house, miscounted, and tripped, and secondly when Oscar threw herself onto her mother’s lap crying that she was a human being with feelings.

I still get emotional thinking about these scenes, particularly the latter one. The Rose of Versailles got me through so much. I honestly don’t know where I would be, or who I would be, without it. There is no way Kippie could have known that I would need RoV. For her, it was as simple as, “I enjoyed it, and I think you would, too. Because shipping.” And yeah, I’m a shipper who did enjoy it for that, but it became SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT TO ME.

I don’t want to spit the whole long tale out here, but shortly after I obsessed over RoV, I had my own identity crisis. It was a tough time for me, but it also cemented my future as an essayist who focuses primarily on the literary device known as Identity. When I went to college in 2012 that was my focus in literature, and nearly every essay I wrote I chose to explore it in some fashion. Identity. What makes a character, what shapes them, what changes or moves or motivates them. RoV motivated that love for Identity and my essays motivated the English Department chair to give me a selective scholarship (that they chose, it was never applied for). The reasoning they cited to me was that I had shown a rare passion for literature and the characters within. For the first time in my life I felt validated in my obsession with Identity.

I was in my early 20s when I first saw The Rose of Versailles, and something about the character of Oscar spoke to me, but I couldn’t quite name it. I felt that I understood her, and not just for being a woman working in a man’s field. There was something else. But what? I couldn’t figure it out. 

A few years later I started seeing an uptick in romantic and sexual identities online. Demisexual. Asexual. Aromantic. Greyace. Something clicked—for me, personally, as well as my understanding of the characters. And years later, Tumblr flooded with information about ADHD presenting in women, and autism in ladies. And my brain went, OH!!!! OH!!! OH I SEE!!

I know a lot of people love Oscar for their own reason, and I think that’s probably one of my favorite things about the series: that the main character is almost universally loved by everyone, and that she receives this love no matter how the individual fans choose to view her.

Something specifically that bothered me many years ago was a certain persistent disdain for Oscar not returning André’s feelings earlier. She was blind, she was stupid, she was mean, and the worst of all: she was Bad for these reasons.

My God, when I tell you now that the scene of Oscar falling onto her mother’s lap in tears over being treated like a doll made me cry, I know why. I spent years of my life wondering why I was born the way I was. I agonized over it. I didn’t want to be “normal.” I was happy being me. But nobody else was. My sister once accused me of not having feelings. I think of that moment every time I see Oscar struggling in RoV. She’s a private person who struggles privately, but that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel things. And there Oscar was in the manga, having lived her life the best way she knew how, only to have her father pull the rug out from under her without deigning to even explain himself to her. Suddenly, she was not allowed to have an identity of her own. Suddenly, she was not good enough as she was.

Do you know what marriage would do to someone like Oscar, particularly at that point in her life? It would kill her. How terrifying a fate to face, no control over her own life, or feelings, or even her own body.

There’s an important scene in the manga and anime where André considers that Oscar appears “as cold as ice” to others, but personally recognizes the fire of her passionate heart and finds that endearing about her... I always felt that he liked that about her because it was a side of her only he understood, only he recognized for what it was. Like she trusted that part of her in his presence and knowing this helped that love grow. I still think that’s true.

But beyond that, I think André is on the ace spectrum himself, and understands better than anyone how Oscar’s feelings work. (There’s so much more to it than that, but I’ll leave it there for now...)

The part of the fandom that felt Oscar was selfish or uncaring for not loving André back sooner...miss the point, I think, of her character, and of the romance of the series. It’s not that Oscar is unfeeling. It’s not that she can’t love André. It’s not even that she’s choosing not to love him. In my opinion, it’s that she’s ace and the way she shows her love and care is not only different than a person might expect it to be, but also difficult to express—though whether this is due to her upbringing or her romantic identity (or both!) is up to interpretation.

More importantly, she does not owe him herself.

(And, I think beyond all this, usually people who feel this way really adore André, and while that’s great, I think they’re ignoring a key component of his character, which is: he loves Oscar and never even once so much as suggests that she owes him anything.)

Anyway, that was a long post to say: I view Oscar as ace and ADHD and I wish I could go back to 2008 me and tell myself about both of these things, because it would have saved me a lot of worry and heartache all those years ago. But it’s okay, anyway, because I still felt that connection to Oscar, even without the specific words, and I knew André loved Oscar anyway, even though he knew she was different.

If you’re reading this now, in 2021 or later, I hope you’ve been able to find a similar connection to one or several of the RoV characters. It’s not often we get to see slices of ourselves in the media, written in a sympathetic and loving way. Having that made all the difference to me when I needed it the most. ♥ And I hope it’s had a positive impact on your life, too.

[foxgloveinspace]

Andrew Minyard is ADHD:

I said I would only really write this if people were interested, but I lied, lol. WAIT One person liked the og post while I was typing this, so there's interest and it’s justified! Lol.

Ok, I’ve seen other posts talking about this, but some of them used some things that I didn’t agree with, so I’m gonna do my own.

I wanna set the preface of, if you see Andrew as ADHD, awesome! If you don’t, that's great too! In reality, this is all speculation, and self projecting, and my desire for actually good representation of ADHD characters that are not stereotypical, so if you see Andrew as something different, that is completely and totally a-okay.

-ADHD has three types, inattentive (formally known as ADD), hyperactive (previously just ADHD) and combined type. Some people prefer calling it Executive Function Disorder (EFD), because Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder describes how it affects people around ADHDers, more than it affects ADHDers. For the sake of this, I’m going to refer to it as ADHD, because it’s more commonly known, and it’s what I call it for myself. I also acknowledge that according to the timeline, Andrew would probably be diagnosed with ADD (if he ever got diagnosed, that is, which I don’t know if he would or not). Please keep all this information in mind.

Things that would be explained if Andrew was ADHD:

Instead of reason’s I think Andrew is adhd in canon, I mostly have thing’s I think could be explained if he was:

-Why he ‘hates’ exy:

This is a big reason in my mind, he is very insistent he doesn’t like exy and I can explain why he actually doesn’t with him being ADHD.

He started playing in juvie, as something to do, it’s a good way to completely clear his mind and concentrate on something that he is actually good at, which is instant gratification, it's something ADHDer’s experience a lot. It’s one of the main reasons ADHDer’s love video games (if your curious there are videos on youtube explaining this. I am ADHD and this is already overwhelming enough for me than trying to explain this as well).

Andrew only tries at exy when he is in the goal, otherwise he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it. He doesn’t care about stats of other teams, or watching other peoples games, it’s only interesting to him when he’s in the goal or when other people make bets/dares with him; “can you shut down the goal?” “pick a number” playing while coming down from his meds for a long period of time, things like that. Making it interesting, keeping himself engaged with it, is a big thing for him. Again, instant gratification. And also an explanation for why outside of the court, when people try to talk to him about the sport, he doesn’t care, he ‘hates’ it. Cause he does. He hates talking about, that doesn’t interest him. It’s boring and not what gives his brain satisfaction within the sport itself.

-Spending habits (TW: Not sure how to tag this tbh, but Andrew being prepared to die? I’ll put it in double parentheses, just incase):

((While I am of the firm belief that the number one reason that Andrew bought the first car is cause he completely wasn't expecting to live through the crash and then had no idea what to do with that amount of money when he wasn't expecting to live)), ADHD would also explain why he buys such expensive stuff. Again, it's instant gratification. It's like trying to tell yourself to wait for something you really want as an award. What's the point when you can have it now? He goes out and buys the most expensive cars he can cause it scratches that itch in his brain.

- Subcategory to spending, Daredevil:

It could also have to do with going fast. Most 'daredevils' are actually ADHDers. Going fast and doing daring things triggers chemicals in our brains, same as hyperfixations and instant gratification. In fact, that could also be a reason for sparing with Renee as well.

-Zoning out:

Ask any ADHDer about maladaptive daydreaming, and dissociating. Andrew has been known in canon to lose himself in thought a lot, and stare out in space for extended periods of time. This is very common with ADHD, and while it’s a small thing, it’s something I think about quite a bit, and so I included it.

-Loud Music:

Another way to drown out your own thoughts is to listen to music, and a lot of ADHDers like loud music. Andrew likes loud music while driving fast. This is very ADHD to me.

-His major:

I think this is something else that can be explained with ADHD, as a hyperfixation. Its not something he wants to do with his life, but it's something his brain lets him concentrate on, and therefore, something to do with his time in college, something he doesn't necessarily want to do, and is doing it out of necessity.

-His memory:

Something about adhd is that it is almost always paired with a different thing. Autism and dyslexia are the two most common. So his perfect memory would be something else neurodivergent that could be paired with his ADHD.

-Attachment issues/RSD:

Andrew keeps everyone at arm's length, and while this can be a part of his past, it can also be combined with RSD, or Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Which can mean any sort of negative attitude towards you can send you into a spiral. So Aaron not being understanding of their deal/promise and pushing him away would be devastating to him on a whole other level, one that feels right for how he acts in canon. But on the other hand he can't let go of Aaron because he is already attached to him. 

Again with Nickey, he's someone that's been in his life for so long it would be devastating for him to just up and leave, especially to an eighteen year old. He would never tell him this, because of RSD, and if Nickey decided to leave despite that, it would have been very devastating to him and Nickey would have never been allowed back into his life, so that would be the number one reason for Andrew to get Nickey into college with him.

ADHDers are also very quick to get attached to people, something we see with Andrew is that once he has decided someone is 'his' he is unshakable in his loyalty.

I hate going into it, but that would be another reason for how he is with Cass, why he is so desperate to stay, despite what is happening in the back ground.

-Emotions:

I know Andrew has reasons for being emotionally distant, but when he feels emotions in canon, anger, he is quick to it, and feels it fully to the point he can't control it. It's very common in ADHD to have no control over how you react to your emotions unless you spend a lot of time doing it, like Andrew has.

-Long Weird Conversations:

The way he talks to Renee, and then Neil, where they jump around from subject to subject, with no discernable connection to the subjects. Like, that's stereotypical ADHD, but one that actually ADHDers relate to. 

-Sensory things:

Things in canon that Andrew does/likes that scream sensory issues or stimming:

-Stimming:

Likes extreme foods (sweet and spicy things).

Has comfort objects (arm bands, while I know they were to hide his scars, I feel like the fact that they don't bug him even in extreme weather is a major factor in them being a weighted stim for him).

Smoking (I don't know how to describe how this is a stim for Andrew, but it is?).

-Sensory Issues (I know most of these have canon reasons, but I wanna say they could be heightened by ADHD, so keep that in mind):

Not eating around other people/eating in small bites. (Hating food textures is a common thing for ADHDer’s).

Being a light sleeper/taking forever to fall asleep. (Brain won't shut off/be quiet).

Wanting a routine but simultaneously hating it. (His love/hate relationship with exy. He never complains about getting up for practice, that Neil mentions, but is constantly hating how repetitive it is. Going to Eden's almost every Friday, where it's the same place but different every time without being too different.)

That's all that I can think of right now. I tried to not mention anything that happened while Andrew was on medication, so the whole 'keep my attention' doesn't really count in my opinion.

Thank you for reading, and maybe I might come back to this and add more someday, but for now it's finished.

In conclusion: Andrew being ADHD makes a lot of sense within canon.

[adl-reborn]

I just realized I forgot to post this here...

Tales of Metroville: Thought Experiments

Aston hadn't slept in 3 days. He had been researching non-stop to discover the ailment from which his friend, Phoenix, was currently suffering. You see, they both were invited to dinner by the president. In theory they both were to be debriefed about current affairs and of any unusual goings on that the two most powerful known mutants on the planet might be needed for. Aston, however, had no need of it - his clairvoyance had alerted him both to the topics of discussion and of all such events including many not on the agenda. Meanwhile, the normally quite outgoing Phoenix barely ate and didn't speak at all, and when they both returned home he locked himself in the master bedroom to do who knows what.

If ever there was a good time for Aston's comprehensive ability to read peoples' minds, this would be a good one, but it isn't so simple with Phoenix. Try as he might, Aston could never do this with Phoenix. Even after years of trying, Aston could only ever manage to read vague emotional states, but that only told him the obvious. Distracted by this, so too was he unable to clearly see the path ahead. And so his research continued. Depression, Anxiety, MPD, and many others. He read through the DSM5 until he reached the chapter on autism.

At this point he paused as his sleep deprived mind called back to his childhood. His odd behavior as a preteen had prompted a visit to the psychiatrist - a visit which he left with a diagnosis of "Asperger's Syndrome". It was described as a milder form of Autism - one which could lie undetected in many. Needless to say he was familiar with it and had recognized much of himself deep within Phoenix's personality, but ultimately the DSM did not help beyond providing a starting point...

Luckily Aston did not need to look far to find his answers. Where official medical documentation failed actually autistic people filled the void, and crucially the true nature of a meltdown and a new concept - burnout, were introduced to him. Additionally, Aston found himself unable to read many of the individuals presenting their point - a correlation which Aston surmised was due to a radically different mind, but finding that out for sure wouldn't be easy...

The only way Aston knew to read minds of a type he had never read before was through a technique he dubbed a "mental fusion". It's theory of operation was similar in principle to what many Trekkies call a mind meld. This was a technique Aston had only ever done once - by accident, he did this to his father on the day he ran away - a fight had broken out between the two and they had inadvertently fused for but a few seconds. In that time they could feel each other's thoughts as one, and Aston gained a roadmap of the human mind, but Aston was overwhelmed by this and ran off into the forest. It was an ability he had sworn to never use again...but his friend was in danger and he knew it.

Slowly Aston opened the door - inside was Phoenix, sitting in the fetal position rocking to soothe his frayed nerves. He held his legs tight against his belly and did not speak to greet Aston. Where Phoenix once stood a timid child remained. As Aston approached Phoenix turned and looked apprehensively in his direction. Aston could see in Phoenix's eyes that his distress was great. As Aston sat down close to Phoenix he was apprehensive at first, but a calming touch from Aston soothed him enough to stay. They sat like this for a while - Aston holding an obviously distressed Phoenix, but he knew what he must do and that it would be uncomfortable.

Slowly Aston moved his right hand to Phoenix's right temple. Phoenix became agitated for a moment and started shaking his arms but Aston calmed him with the left. Once positioned, he waited for Phoenix to calm down and gently positioned his left hand. With his hands in position a faint blue glow began to appear, glowing brighter with every second. Phoenix let out a yell..."I'm sorry..." Said Aston. They both yelled in unison as their minds became one. In an instant they both found themselves unconscious

One hour later...

Aston awoke but not in reality. His fusion was more complete than he had anticipated - he surmised he must be in a shared dream as they both were extremely exhausted. Aston, being a proficient lucid dreamer realized this straight away, but he knew if he could recognize this that the dream is important in some way. In the distance he hears a cry.

It is Phoenix - crying out for help. Alone in the distance. In this dark void he can see nothing, and conjuring a flashlight nor a vehicle has no effect. He continues to run in the direction of the yelling but to no avail - Phoenix remains out of reach. Aston calls out to Phoenix but there was no response........

2 hours later

Aston awakens once again - this time in the house but in his bedroom. Objects are not in their designated places so here too this is a dream. Aston proceeds to navigate to Phoenix's room. He lies on the bed staring at the ceiling unresponsive. As Aston approaches Phoenix apparates into a standing position and then runs up to Aston crying to which they both share embraces...

2 hours later

The sound of screaming pierces in Aaron's ear once again waking him. Again he is in Phoenix's dream - the same one as the first time. Aston remembered well how he failed to handle this dream the last time so he tries a different tactic. He calms his mind and senses Phoenix's precise location. Though they can not see each other, Aston knows he and him are now together. Aston sits down next to Phoenix.

"It's alright...I am here to comfort you." Stated Aston. What was once a cry became a whimper, and the once dark void is now illuminated by a dim yellow radiance. "I am here for you Phoenix, no matter your darkest hour nor your worst fears." The yellow radiance grows in illumination from Phoenix's chest. The two mutants once again embrace one another, and the once dark void is now pierced by a blinding light. "Do you mean it?" Replied Phoenix. "I'll let the actions do the talking..." Aston returned...

2 hours later

"So you finally found it"

Aston awoke once again - this time in a peaceful garden surrounded by a lake with small gentle waves. A fog obscures any view beyond.

"Welcome to my world" stated Phoenix to the now slowly arousing Aston. "I never thought I would see you here, but I figured one day you might show up." "What...is this place?" replied Aston, "it seems peaceful, relaxing even."

"This is my comfort zone" replied Phoenix, "I come here to escape the demands of the world when they become too much to bear." "I couldn't come here for far too long - we were too busy saving the world." continued Phoenix, "I thought I had lost it forever - in its place I only found darkness."

"That was your first dream, and the third. What about the second?" Replied Aston. "The house is where we always go when we're done for the day." Phoenix stated, "I thought maybe I could relax there." "It didn't work out as I had hoped...but at least you were there." Phoenix continued, "If I had been alone in there I don't think it would have done anything. I was just laying there, worrying about all of the drone strikes, supervillains, contingencies, space nukes. You know, all that crazy stuff they brought up at the meeting."

"It's all so stressful you know! And, it's kind of hard to explain, but the lights...they felt blinding, and the klinking of so much silverware on porcelain didn't help either. It felt like I was expending every last drop of my being to not explode from all of the stress!" "I...had no idea." Replied Aston, "I was just sitting next to you. I already knew everything they had to say but since you had said nothing I didn't know what to expect! Even now after fusing I still struggle to comprehend the sheer depth of your thoughts. To be honest the buzz from the busted TV was starting to get on my nerves though...you don't think..."

"I know what you're going to say - I was diagnosed with ADHD, not Asperger's." quipped Phoenix. "Since when have I ever lied to anyone let alone you?" Replied Aston. "I just spent 72 hours straight tearing the internet apart to figure out why you locked yourself in a room. Not because I wanted to get back to saving the world - we both know it doesn't need saving right now. I did that because I knew you were deeply distressed...but I couldn't understand why until now." "This is not a place for argument." Aston continued, "This is a place to escape to when the going gets tough. Just as I can sort of read your thoughts now you should be able to read mine. Look, and see I am not wrong. All you need to do is look at me, focus, and visualize my mind inside yours."

Phoenix was skeptical, but did as asked. To his surprise it worked - all of the research Aston had done up until the point of fusion was laid plain to see. Every disorder in the DSM5. All of the documentaries, YouTube videos, and articles read. So too was Aston's past - all of the struggle he had to endure. He had a fake ID in high school - not so he could drink, but to rent an apartment of his own away from his father's prying eyes in Metroville - far from anywhere he would think to look. His Asperger's was plain to see - a similar but less intense mirror of Phoenix's own past.

As he came out of the vision Phoenix embraced Aston. "Thank you, Aston..." He finally said, "I think you saved me...from my own mind." "It's no sweat, that's what friends do am I right? Sometimes the heroes of the story need saving too." They both stood up, and the dream ended.

Aston awoke holding Phoenix in his embrace. So too did Phoenix not long after. Aston now could see some of Phoenix's thoughts, but Phoenix still remained an enigma - further refinement would be needed to fully understand his mind. "Did you sleep well?" Aston inquired? "Yes...or at least better than I have in the past few months." Replied Phoenix. "I'm glad...seems you needed it." Aston stated. "No kidding...I guess I needed to not feel completely alone for once." Said Phoenix, "Say...that technique you used to get inside my head...I thought you couldn't get inside my head." "That's what I thought too...until I figured out just how different your mind is wired compared to the norm." Replied Aston, "I took an educated guess that you were Autistic - that led me to find out that your brain is almost 100x more complicated than a normal human, and I daresay probably more complicated than mine." "Does that mean I have the same abilities you do then?" Phoenix inquired, now intrigued. "Maybe..." Replied Aston, "You want to find out?" "Sure, but I bought pizza the last time we trained so it's on you this time." Stated Phoenix. "Gladly!" Replied Aston, "I think this will be fun!"