#I have autism if I can be tactful then so can you

[jetii]

On Impulse

Pairing: Tech x fem!Reader

Words: 10,703

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends to lovers, kind of enemies to lovers? but in a goofy silly way, Tech's autism rizz, fluff, arguing as a form of flirting, smut, thigh riding, unprotected sex, fingering, semi-public sex, naked female clothed male

Summary: You've made it your personal mission to convince Tech that letting loose and taking risks for the sake of fun can be a good thing. During your day off on Coruscant, your efforts are unexpectedly rewarded.

A/N: There's no excuse for this I just love writing feral Tech. Also wow! 400 followers! Hello! Thanks for being here.

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Tech knows he can be a little... much.

It's not really his fault. The Kaminoans who designed him and his brothers didn't really think to account for things like social awareness, or tact, or "when not to talk." All they programmed him with was an insatiable thirst for information and a single-minded desire to be useful.

The others in the squad had been able to pick things up on the way, seeming to possess a natural sense for the sort of thing one says or does at any given time. Tech, though, just doesn't have that. He has a brain that's constantly running and processing data, and an all-consuming need to do something about it.

So he can't help it that his mouth tends to get away from him when he's excited. The information just comes pouring out.

His brothers call it a data dump.

The Kaminoans call it an unfortunate defect in his otherwise exceptional programming.

But you call it charming.

"And furthermore," Tech is ranting, following you as you walk through the halls of the Senate building, “the use of such a heavy gauge power coupling is inefficient and a waste of valuable resources which could be better spent in other areas. The new couplings are half the size, and can be manufactured on-planet instead of having to be shipped from across the galaxy."

"Not my fault if you were wrong, Tech," you toss over your shoulder at him, smirking as he splutters in offense.

"Wrong?!" he repeats, sounding aghast at the mere suggestion. "I don't think so."

You roll your eyes, but there's a fond smile on your lips. Tech is a genius, really, he is. But his ego is sometimes as big as his brain, and you love to wind him up a bit. 

He gets so flustered and huffy and cute when you do, and you can't resist. He's just too adorable not to tease a little. So you keep walking, even though you've long ago lost track of where you're actually going.

"I mean, I can admit when I'm wrong," you go on, slowing your pace just a bit. "It's a sign of a healthy psyche."

Tech scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bite back a laugh. He's wearing his full armor, minus his helmet, and it only adds to the ridiculousness of the moment. The two of you are quite the duo, sticking out like a pair of sore thumbs among the throngs of politicians and Senators going about their daily business.

You'd thought this outing would be something fun, an opportunity to get Tech out of the Marauder for a bit. You know that he gets antsy, and he loves nothing more than a good lecture or an impromptu lesson. 

Plus, it was your off day, and you wanted to spend some time with him, since you knew he was only planning to hole up in his bunk and work on fixing up some broken circuit board or another. Not the most thrilling way to spend an afternoon.

And you can't even count the number of times you've come back to the Marauder, only to find him elbow-deep in some project, surrounded by scrap parts and wires and tools and completely oblivious to the world.

That's fine, though, really. It's just who he is, and you know better than to interrupt, but you can't deny you like it better when his brain is occupied with you instead.

The way he lights up when he gets the chance to talk about whatever is on his mind is endearing, and you love listening to him speak. You'll take Tech the lecturer over Tech the hermit any day.

So, you'd come to the Senate to let him geek out. One of your friends was an assistant to a Senator, and you'd asked if you could give Tech a tour. It was more of a chance for Tech to give you a tour, actually, because you were clueless, and he knew exactly where to go and what to see. But he doesn't know that.

What had started out as your attempt at tricking Tech into a date has quickly turned into another argument, but that's nothing new between the two of you.

It's become your routine, something you've done since the first time you met. You and Tech bickering about this and that, teasing and mocking each other but with a light in your eyes and a smile on your faces. Sometimes it feels like it's the only way the two of you communicate.

You can't even remember now what the first fight had been about. But you know that he had said something blunt and off-hand, and you'd gotten offended and given him a piece of your mind. He'd argued back, and the two of you had gone back and forth until you had run out of steam.

It's what always happens.

But you had seen a glimmer of something in Tech's eyes that day, and when he'd started arguing back, there had been a spark there. It wasn't boredom, or apathy. It was excitement, passion, a fire in him that you had never seen in anyone else before.

He had liked it.

You had, too.

And that's when the real games had started.

It's not the same now. You've gotten used to each other, and you can tell when he's trying to rile you up. He does the same thing every time. He'll say something rude, or condescending, and you'll shoot him a dirty look and a sharp comment. Then, he'll say something even more rude and condescending, and then, finally, you'll lose your temper, and the two of you will bicker and banter until the both of you have worked through whatever is bothering you.

It's kind of like therapy.

Or foreplay.

Maybe a little of both.

And now, here the two of you are, doing it again. You're wandering the halls, not even paying attention to where you're going anymore. You're far too distracted by the way Tech's brow is furrowing in concentration as he thinks of how to prove himself right, and the way his nose is wrinkling in irritation at your constant teasing.

You're both enjoying this a little too much.

"I assure you, my psyche is perfectly healthy," Tech is saying as he follows behind you, and you grin at him over your shoulder.

"I don't know, Tech," you taunt. "I can't help but notice how much you love being right. That sounds like a classic case of an inflated ego to me."

He scoffs.

"My ego is perfectly sized, thank you," he tells you, his tone haughty. "It's not my fault that my intelligence is far superior to the vast majority of beings in the galaxy."

"Oh, and humble, too," you add, rolling your eyes. "My mistake."

He ignores your quip, still following you down the corridor, his steps slowing just a bit.

"Where are we going, anyway?" he asks, peering at you curiously. "This isn't the way back to the hangar."

You smirk, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Tech nearly runs into you, stopping short at the last moment, and the two of you stand only inches apart, your face turned up to his. He's almost a full foot taller than you, and the way he's staring down at you makes your heart beat a little faster. He's not smiling, not really, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

"We're not going back to the hangar," you inform him, and his expression changes to one of confusion.

"Then where are we going?"

You don't answer. Instead, you grab him by the wrist, pulling him after you as you continue walking. "I have something else in mind."

He stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet in his hurry to keep up with your sudden change of pace.

"Where are we going?" he repeats, his tone slightly higher than usual. He sounds flustered, and you can't help the little laugh that slips past your lips.

"You'll see," is all you say.

He grumbles, but follows along nonetheless, allowing you to tug him after you.

"We don't have time for detours," he tries.

"We made a detour for power couplings, didn't we?" you counter. "What's the difference?"

"A power coupling is a necessary component of the Marauder's hyperdrive," he protests. "A 'detour' is merely a waste of time."

"But the ones we had were just fine," you argue, still pulling him along.

"Just fine is not good enough," he replies. "I will prove it to you. Once I have the new couplings installed, I will run a simulation, and you will see how much more efficiently the Marauder will perform. You will admit that I was correct."

You can't help but laugh at his self-assurance.

"If you say so," you tease.

"I do say so," he counters. "I am a man of science, and I always back up my claims with evidence. If I say something is fact, it is a fact."

You snicker again, and Tech glares down at you.

"You can be rather vexing," he says with a sigh of resignation.

"I try."

He rolls his eyes, but you catch the hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm sure you do," he mutters, and you bite back a grin.

You love teasing Tech, but not just him. You like doing it to the others, too, especially when they least expect it. You have a reputation for being sweet and innocent and nice, but the truth is, you can be just as devious as the rest of them when you want to be.

You just choose your targets more carefully, and Tech is the perfect victim.

He's so serious, and so uptight, and so easy to get worked up. It's a challenge, keeping up with him and his constant rants and lectures, but you're nothing if not determined, and you have a lot of fun doing it.

But your favorite is the way Tech will get so frustrated and worked up, and then, once he's exhausted himself, and he knows that you're not going to change your mind, he'll start grumbling. And pouting.

And it's just the cutest thing in the world.

You don't mean to upset him, or anything, but the way he puffs up like an angry bird when you challenge him is just adorable, and you can't help yourself. You just can't stop.

And if the way he's looking at you is any indication, he can't stop, either.

"Oh, come on, Tech," you chuckle. "Lighten up a bit. Today is supposed to be fun. We're on Coruscant, there's nothing dangerous happening, and the weather is actually nice for a change. Just try and enjoy yourself a little."

"I am enjoying myself," he argues.

"By arguing with me?" you counter.

Tech looks down at you, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He doesn't look as irritated anymore, and there's a twinkle in his eyes that tells you that he's having a good time. He's enjoying himself, despite his protests, and he knows that you're onto him.

"Yes. I enjoy our debates," he answers simply. He pauses, then adds, "Though I would hardly consider it a debate. It is a mere fact that the new couplings are better than the old ones."

You roll your eyes, and Tech's lips twitch at the gesture. There's a warmth that spreads through your chest when you see him like this, happy and relaxed. You like seeing him smile, and you like it even more when it's because of you.

"Sure, sure," you placate him. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"That is what I say," he confirms, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, well, whatever."

"I win, then?"

"Fine," you sigh, pretending to be put out. "You win."

He smiles, smug and self-satisfied. "Of course I do."

You snort, rolling your eyes again, and he just keeps grinning. He looks so proud of himself, and you can't help but feel a surge of affection for him. You like this side of Tech, the one that's playful and teasing and fun. It's a side that not many people get to see, and you can't help but feel lucky that you're the one he shows it to. 

You like this, the two of you together, alone, no one around to hear your conversations or watch the way you look at each other. There's something intimate about it, something that makes your stomach flutter and your heart beat a little faster. 

It's different, when it's just the two of you. The arguments and banter are still there, but there's something else, too, something warm and gentle and special. You want to drag this moment out as long as possible, and you intend to.

"So, where are we going, then?" he asks, and you bite your lip, trying to hide your smirk.

"Nowhere," you say, and he gives you a puzzled look. "Or, well, nowhere interesting."

"Then why did we take the detour?" he asks, and you can hear the curiosity in his voice. He's not annoyed or angry or irritated. He's genuinely interested in what you're doing, and why. It makes you smile.

"Because, Tech," you explain, "sometimes, it's the journey that's important, not the destination."

He cocks his head to the side, considering your words.

"But if the destination is not important, then why bother going at all?" he asks. "What is the point of the journey, if not the destination?"

You can't help but laugh again. He's so literal sometimes. You've tried explaining the concept of "just because" to him, but it's a hard concept for him to grasp. There is no rhyme or reason to some things, no logic or scientific explanation. Some things just are. They're fun, or beautiful, or special. And sometimes, that's reason enough to do them.

You tell him as much, and Tech rolls his eyes. He doesn't believe you. He can't understand why you'd do something for no reason at all. But you know that he's listening. He's still following along with you, and there's no indication that he wants to leave.

"So you just wanted to wander around the Senate?" he asks, and you nod. "Why?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I just wanted to. And I thought it might be nice to do something together. You and me."

He looks at you for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. There's a softness to his features, and his eyes are warm behind his goggles. It's a look that you've only ever seen him give you.

Sometimes when Tech looks at you, you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he's dissecting and cataloguing your every move. It's unnerving, and it makes your stomach twist with anxiety. But sometimes, like right now, he looks at you like he's seeing something new and wonderful, like you're a mystery he's trying to solve.

You don't mind it so much when he looks at you like that.

"It is...nice," he admits after a moment, his voice quiet. "Being together."

He says the words carefully, almost hesitantly, and you can see a slight flush creeping up his cheeks underneath his goggles.

You smile at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

You're still holding onto his wrist, and you slide your hand down to meet his, your fingers intertwining with his own. Tech doesn't pull away, and he doesn't seem surprised, or uncomfortable. He just lets it happen, and a soft, shy smile appears on his lips, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

"I—"

Whatever Tech was about to say is cut off by a shout from behind him. Both of you jump, and Tech whips around to face the source of the sound. He steps in front of you, instinctively shielding you with his body, his free hand going to the blaster on his hip. You can feel his muscles tensing, and his grip on your hand tightens.

You peer over his shoulder and see a Corrie Guard, one of Fox's men, coming down the hall toward the two of you. Your blood runs cold.

"Hey!" he shouts. "This is a restricted area."

Tech glances at you over his shoulder. "It is?"

"Oops," you mutter back. "Guess we better get out of here."

The two of you turn and bolt down the hall. You can hear the guard's boots pounding behind you, and Tech's fingers are still interlaced with yours. Laughter is bubbling up inside of you, a mix of adrenaline and nervous energy. Tech lets out an amused huff, and the two of you turn the corner.

You nearly slam into another group of troopers, and Tech pulls you out of the way, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You barrel past the guards, who shout in alarm as they see the first guard chasing the two of you. 

It's chaos, and the laughter spills out of you as Tech drags you through the maze of halls and corridors. The sound of your feet and the guards' boots echoes off the walls, and Tech is pulling you along behind him, not letting go. You can see the smile on his face, even as he turns and yells at you.

"Why are they chasing us?!"

"No idea!" you shout back, laughing.

"We should not be doing this!"

"Too late!"

The two of you sprint through the building, twisting and turning down hallways, the sound of the guards' footsteps following close behind.

"Tech! Over here!"

There's a door at the end of the hall, and it's unguarded. The two of you make a beeline for it, and you're both panting by the time you reach it. Tech slams his hand against the access panel, and the door slides open. He shoves you inside, and you have to duck under his arm before he follows close behind.

"Where are we?!" he asks, looking around.

You shrug, breathless, and he looks at you incredulously.

"We're in a closet," he says, and you can't help but giggle.

The room is dark, empty, and quiet. It’s also extremely cramped, and there's barely enough space for the two of you. The closet is clearly built for a maintenance droid, and the shelves are lined with cleaning supplies.

It's a tight fit, and you're pressed close together, chests heaving as you try to catch your breath. Tech is forced to bend down toward you to avoid hitting his head on the shelves above you, and his nose is practically touching yours.

"This is not an ideal hiding place," he complains. “It's not defensible. If they find us here, we'll be trapped."

"I know." You sigh, looking up at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"But you are the one who pulled me in here," he points out.

"Well, we had to get out of sight, didn't we?" you argue. "They were right behind us."

He shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You are unbelievable."

"I'll take that as a compliment," you say, and you can hear his amused huff.

"You would," he murmurs, his tone dry.

"What are they gonna do?" you ask, looking up at him with a smirk. "Arrest us? For taking a shortcut?"

"I don't know why you're being so difficult about this," he grumbles. “We—mmph!”

Your free hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him. Tech's eyes widen behind his goggles, and he blinks at you in surprise. His other hand is still holding yours, and the two of you are standing so close together that you can feel the warmth of his body through his armor.

"Quiet," you hiss, and he gives you a look that is part exasperation, part amusement.

You keep your hand over his mouth, and the two of you stand there in the dark, the only sounds the hum of the ventilation system and the muffled footsteps of the guards outside. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you stay as still as you can, and the feeling of Tech's lips beneath your palm is sending tingles down your spine.

You can feel his breath, warm and uneven, and you're suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of him that's touching you. Your fingers drag along the curve of his jaw, catching on the stubble there, and he shivers. It's barely noticeable, but you feel it, and you can't help the flush that creeps up your neck as you pull your hand away.

Tech's eyes are still wide, and his lips are parted, but he stays silent. He straightens, shifting a bit in the tight space, and you can feel his chest brush against yours. You can smell the leather of his armor, and the faint scent of grease and soap that lingers on his skin.

He's so close.

His leg is wedged between yours, and his body is radiating warmth. You're practically plastered to him, and every part of him that's touching you feels like it's burning. The hand that's holding yours is trembling, just a bit, and the closeness of the space, the heat, and the adrenaline from the chase are making your head spin. And you can't seem to stop staring at his mouth.

The voices in the hallway grow louder, and the two of you tense as you listen. They're right outside the door, and you suck in a sharp breath.

"Maybe they went the other way," someone is saying.

"They couldn't have gone far," another voice replies.

Tech's free hand comes up to rest on the shelf next to your head, bracing himself as he looms over you. His eyes are fixed on the door, and his brow is furrowed, a small frown on his face. You know he's probably running through a million different scenarios in his head, calculating the odds of each one, weighing the options and possible outcomes.

You know he's trying to figure out a way to get the two of you out of this, a plan, an escape route, something. Meanwhile, all you can seem to think about is how soft his lips look, and the way they had felt, warm and gentle against your hand.

"Let's just radio Fox and let him deal with it," a guard says. "I don't get paid enough to run around the Senate."

"We don't get paid at all," the other retorts.

"Exactly."

Tech adjusts his stance again, trying to get a better angle on the door. The motion presses his thigh harder between your legs, directly against your center. The touch sends a shock of arousal through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from gasping aloud, praying he doesn't notice.

Of course, he does.

Tech snaps his head to look down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and you can see the surprise written all over his face. His lips part slightly, and his gaze flickers down to where your bodies are connected, then back up to your face.

You can see the moment realization dawns on him, and the way his pupils dilate behind his goggles is unmistakable.

"We'll search this side," someone is saying.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere."

You can barely hear them over the sound of your pulse pounding in your ears. You swallow thickly, and Tech's eyes dart to your throat, his lips parting a bit more. He looks a bit dazed, like he can't believe what just happened. Or maybe he can't believe the effect it's had on him.

You're having a hard time believing it yourself.

Tech is never one to be lost for words, or speechless, but now, he doesn't say a thing. His eyes are fixed on yours, and he's so close to you that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. He looks like he's about to say something, but then thinks better of it, his lips pressing together.

"Do you think they went upstairs?"

"Nah, it's too risky. They're probably still on this level."

Tech lets out a shaky sigh, his hand flexing against the shelf. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his eyes flutter closed before he takes a deep breath, and then his leg is moving up against you again, and this time, it's deliberate.

A small, choked gasp slips past your lips, your hand squeezing his, and Tech's eyes fly open. 

You know you should say something, or do something, but you can't seem to form words, or even a coherent thought, really. All you can focus on is the way his leg is rubbing against you, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body with every minuscule twitch.

Tech's breath hitches, and his grip on the shelf tightens. He's watching your reaction closely, his eyes roaming over your face. He's testing you, you realize, seeing what you'll do, how you'll react.

You don't move, and the pressure against your core increases, just a little, but it's enough. A whimper escapes you, and Tech's nostrils flare. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you're pretty sure you're the color of a sun-ripe pomfruit.

"Tech," you whisper, your voice coming out husky and breathless.

He doesn't say a word, his eyes boring into yours, his leg still moving, ever so slightly, against you. The guards are arguing now, but neither of you are paying attention. There's nothing but the two of you and this tiny, dark closet, and the friction that's building between you.

"Tech," you breathe again, a little louder this time.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips again, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets out a shaky breath. He's enjoying this, you realize. He's getting off on it. And the thought makes a fresh wave of arousal rush through you.

Tech is not usually an impulsive person. He's meticulous and precise and methodical. Everything he does is calculated, planned. He's not spontaneous, and he doesn't do things without thinking them through first. But right now, he's acting on instinct, and he doesn't seem to care about the consequences.

And the thought is making you feel things that are definitely not appropriate for this particular situation.

Another insistent brush against your core, and you're done for.

"Fuck," you whimper, your hips rolling forward into the contact. Your free hand shoots out and grabs his shoulder, giving you leverage as you press yourself harder against his thigh.

Tech makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and his fingers curl harder around the edge of the shelf above you. The metal groans and bends under his grip.

The two of you are lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, your bodies moving together, desperately seeking more friction, more pressure, more contact. Tech is panting now, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, and the sound is like music to your ears. He's always so in control, so put-together, but now, he's completely undone.

You can't stop staring at him, drinking in the sight of him, and his eyes are locked on yours, too. You're close, so close, and Tech must be able to tell because he's grinding his leg against you faster. The hand that was holding yours has moved to your hip, and he's pulling you closer, tighter, helping you grind against him.

His goggles are fogging up, and he's got that look on his face, the one he always gets when he's working on something. But this time, it's not the Marauder's circuitry or a busted datapad, it's you, and the realization makes your blood burn hot.

The voices outside the door are still going, but they're faint and distant, moving farther away, the words nothing but a meaningless buzz in the back of your mind. All that matters right now is the way Tech's thigh is rubbing against you, and the heat pooling in your core.

"Tech—"

Your words are cut off by a whimper, his name coming out like a plea, and you can't help the way your hips are jerking, seeking more contact. Your fingers are digging into his shoulder, and he's practically shaking, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

"I can't—" he gasps. "I can't think like this."

"Don't," you choke out, your voice trembling. "Don't think. Just...just..."

You're not even sure what you're asking him for, but you don't need to say anything else. He knows.

The pressure against your center increases, his leg rubbing harder, faster, and you can't hold back anymore. Your climax washes over you like a tidal wave, and your knees nearly give out, only Tech's firm grip on your hip holding you upright.

You barely make a sound before he's crushing his lips against yours, swallowing your moans and whimpers, his own muffled grunts echoing in your ears.

You cling to him, riding out the aftershocks of your release, and his mouth is hot and insistent against yours, his tongue stroking against yours. He's warm and soft and sweet, and he tastes like caf and something else that is distinctly Tech. His kisses are hungry, and his hands are roaming, and you're not sure if you're dreaming or if this is actually happening.

Tech kissing you. Tech, who has barely even touched you before today, who has avoided any and all physical contact with you since the moment you met, who has never, ever, shown any kind of interest in you, is kissing you, his hands and mouth and tongue setting your nerves on fire.

And all because of an impulsive idea, an accident.

You should stop. You know you should stop, but you can't bring yourself to.

"Tech—" you breathe, and his mouth moves to your jaw, kissing and licking and biting at the sensitive skin there. You're practically melting under his touch, your fingers carding through his hair, tugging gently. "Tech, the guards—"

"I know.”

He sounds just as wrecked as you do, his voice raw and husky, and you can't believe this is happening.

"We—"

Your words are cut off by his mouth again, and you're panting and writhing against him. His hands are on your ass, and he lifts you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist. The shelves shake and rattle as he presses you against the wall, and the new position allows him to grind his codpiece against your heat, the feeling making you both groan into each other's mouths.

You've never wanted anything more than you want him right now, and the desperation in his kisses is telling you that he feels the same way.

"Tech," you whimper.

"I know," he breathes, his lips moving against yours.

The guards' voices are fading, growing quieter and more distant, but neither of you notice. You're both too lost in each other, in the feeling of finally, finally, giving in to the tension that's been building between you for weeks, months even.

"Tech—"

"I know," he says again, kissing you harder, deeper.

The guards' voices are gone, now, and the only sounds are the hum of the ventilation system, the creak of the shelves, and the wet, desperate noises of the two of you devouring each other.

"We have to—we can't—" you manage, and he pulls back, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin.

"I know," Tech breathes, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "We can't. This is—"

His hips buck, and he presses himself harder against you, making you both moan.

"This is dangerous," he finishes, his mouth moving lower, to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"It's wrong," you gasp, but your fingers are tangling in his hair, and you're tilting your head to give him better access. "We can't let anyone find out about this."

"No," he says, his teeth nipping at your throat. "No one can know. If the others found out, they'd never let us hear the end of it."

You shudder, and his hands are everywhere, roaming, grabbing, groping, and his lips are tracing patterns across your skin. You're not sure if he's trying to prove a point or not, but you can't stop the little gasps and moans that are falling from your mouth.

"What—what are we gonna tell them?" you ask, your voice breathless and shaky.

"I don't know," he groans, his hands sliding down to the backs of your thighs, squeezing hard. "I can't think."

You laugh, the sound coming out as a desperate, breathless thing. "Me either."

His mouth is on yours again, and he kisses you fiercely, hungrily, like he can't get enough. Your hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling and holding him to you, and his hips are bucking against yours, grinding his codpiece against you. It's not enough, and you need more, but you can't take it. You're too wound up, and the friction is delicious torture.

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are wild, his pupils blown wide, and he looks like he's going to come apart at the seams.

"Tech," you gasp. "Tech, please."

"Yes?" he asks, his voice rough and strained.

"I want you," you admit. "I want this. I want you, right now."

He groans, his fingers digging into your hips, and his forehead drops to yours.

"I want this, too," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper.

You're clinging to him, and his mouth is on yours, and it's all a blur, a mess of tongues and teeth and moans. You're clawing at his armor, and he's tugging at your clothes, and there's barely any space left between the two of you. It's a frenzy, a frenetic energy, and you're both chasing the same thing, the same end goal.

Tech's fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, and he tugs, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. His hand is fumbling, clumsy, and you know he's not used to this. He's not used to the intimacy, or the desperation, or the lack of control. He's not used to being this wound up, and it's showing.

It's cute.

He's cute.

He's so fucking cute, and you have no idea what you're going to do with him.

You don't know where it comes from, or who started it, but suddenly, you're both laughing, a mixture of nerves and excitement and relief. You're smiling, and he's smiling, and you're just so happy, and so overwhelmed, and you're not sure if you've ever been this happy before.

Tech gives up on the clasp, and instead, he tugs off his glove with his teeth and shoves his hand down the front of your pants, his bare skin hot against your flesh. His fingers slide between your folds, and the moment they meet the wetness there, you're both moaning.

You can feel his fingers stroking you, rubbing at your clit, and your hips jerk, bucking against him.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, all breathless and awestruck, sends a shiver down your spine.

"You—ah, fuck," you gasp, unable to continue as his fingers swirl over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

He smirks, and he looks so goddamn smug, so satisfied, and you're pretty sure you've never been more turned on in your life.

"Tech," you whine, and he chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a tremor through your body.

"Is this good?" he asks, his voice teasing, and you can't help but giggle.

"You know it is," you manage, and he grins.

"I do," he says. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

He's still smirking, and you roll your eyes, even as he slips a finger inside of you. You're panting, and your hands are scrabbling at his chest plate, trying to find purchase. He's got you pinned, and you're practically hanging from him, your thighs locked around his waist.

"Tech," you gasp, and his hand is working, pumping in and out of you.

"I can't believe how wet you are," he mutters. "I've barely even touched you."

"I'm not usually like this," you argue. "It's—mm, fuck—it's just you."

He moans, his forehead dropping against yours. "You have no idea what that does to me."

"Show me," you reply, and his grip on your hip tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"I will," he promises. "I will."

You can feel his breath on your face, hot and uneven, and his mouth is so close, his lips brushing against yours.

"Just—fuck, Tech, just fuck me," you plead. "Please."

He lets out a ragged groan as he pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. You can feel him fumbling with his belt, his other hand holding you up, and he's cursing, his fingers shaking.

"Why—why are these damn things so—ugh!"

He finally manages to undo his belt, and it hits the floor with a thud, the ridiculous amount of pouches and gadgets clattering to the ground. The sound makes you laugh, and he shoots you a glare.

"Stop that," he chides. "This is a serious matter."

"I'm sorry," you gasp, barely able to contain your mirth. "It's just—the sound!"

He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching, and his fingers are back on his codpiece, fumbling with the clasps.

"I will never understand why you need so much equipment," you tease, and he scoffs.

"The amount of equipment I carry has nothing to do with my ability to—"

"Just take it off, Tech," you groan. "I'm dying here."

He glares at you, but the effect is ruined by the flush that's creeping up his neck. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"I'm trying," he huffs, "but I can't do anything when you're distracting me."

"Sorry," you apologize, biting your lip.

Tech gives you a look, but his attention is already back on his codpiece, and his fingers are flying over the clasps. He's got a look of intense concentration on his face, and he's practically vibrating with impatience. You undo the buttons on your shirt, tugging it down and exposing your chest, and Tech's gaze flickers over to you, his lips parting as his eyes travel down your body.

"That is not helping," he mutters, and you laugh, leaning back and bracing yourself against the shelves.

"Maybe if you had less equipment, it would be easier to get out of it," you tease, and he lets out an irritated huff.

"If I had less equipment, I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do."

"True," you concede, a grin on your face. "And then I wouldn't be nearly as interested in you."

He looks up at you, his eyes wide, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a half-smile.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Maybe," you say, biting your lip.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at you, and his expression is so earnest and sincere that it makes your heart flutter. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, letting out a huff of laughter.

"You are," he says, his voice quiet. "You're telling me that you're interested in me."

"Well, duh," you laugh. "Why else would I have dragged you along today?"

He doesn't say anything, but you can see the flush on his cheeks darken.

"You're such a dork," you tease.

"And you are the most infuriating, confusing, aggravating, and fascinating person I've ever met," he replies as his eyes open again, his gaze locking with yours.

"That's one hell of a compliment."

"It's a fact."

You're not sure what to make of the sincerity in his tone. You're not sure what to make of any of this. It's not exactly what you'd planned, but you can't help the thrill that's running through you.

"I have no idea what I'm going to do with you," Tech says, and the fondness in his voice makes your heart swell. 

He finally gets his codpiece undone, and it falls to the floor with a clang. You can't help but glance down at his groin, and you see his erection straining against his blacks.

"I have a few ideas," you murmur, and he lets out a strangled laugh.

"So do I."

Tech sets you down on the floor, and your legs are shaky, but he keeps you steady, his hands on your hips. His hands hook into the waistband of your pants, and you can feel his knuckles brushing against your skin as he tugs them down. It’s an agonizingly slow process, and the anticipation is making your blood pound in your veins.

"Force," he hisses as your underwear sticks to your skin, the fabric clinging to your slick folds.

"You did this to me," you say, your voice trembling. "It's your fault."

"I'm willing to take the blame," he replies, his eyes locked on your cunt.

He pulls your pants down, and you step out of them, your shirt still hanging open. You're bare before him, and he's still fully dressed, the plastoid armor covering almost every inch of his skin. You're about to ask him to take something else off when his hands are on you again, gripping your ass and lifting you up.

You let out a startled yelp as he pins you against the wall, his hands spreading your thighs and holding them apart. You can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against you, separated only by the thin fabric of his blacks, and you can't stop the moan that spills from your lips.

"I want you so much," he breathes, his hips thrusting, the friction making you cry out. "I want this, so much, and it's—"

"Tech," you gasp. "Don't stop."

"I want to take my time," he says. "I want to do this properly. I want to do this right, but I can't, not right now."

"Tech," you plead. "It's okay."

He lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—"

"Tech," you gasp. "It's okay."

You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, and his eyes are wild, frantic.

"We can take our time later," you whisper. "We can take all the time in the world, but right now, I need you, okay? I need you, and we don't have time."

He shudders, and his cock twitches against your heat, making you moan.

"We can take this slow, later," you promise, and his eyes search yours, looking for any hint of uncertainty. He must not find any, because he nods, and the tension drains from his body.

"Okay," he says, his voice shaky. "Okay."

His hips rock, and you whimper as his clothed erection slides between your folds, the friction making you tremble. You're practically drenched, and you can feel the slickness dripping down your thighs, soaking the front of his blacks. He's not doing any better, his cock throbbing and straining against the fabric.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Yes, that," you groan.

“You’re impossible," he growls, his hand moving to pull down his blacks. His cock springs free, and the sight of it, thick and heavy and dripping, makes your mouth water.

"And you're taking too long," you shoot back, your fingers curling around his length.

He's hard and silky soft, and his skin is feverishly hot, and the feeling of him, so hard and desperate, makes you moan. You drag your fingers along his shaft, tracing the vein, and his hips buck. He's panting, his eyes fixed on your hand as you pump his cock, and you can feel his muscles twitching and trembling.

"I'm not going to last," he gasps.

"Good," you reply, guiding his cock toward your entrance. "I don't want you to."

You can feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit, and you both moan. He's leaking, and his pre-cum is mixing with your arousal, slicking him up and easing the way. You can feel him sliding through your folds, teasing you, and it's driving you wild.

He pushes forward, his hips jerking, and you both moan as the head of his cock slips inside. You’re about to tell him to keep going when he slams into you, his entire length sheathing itself in your cunt in one swift thrust. 

The cry that falls from your lips is muffled by Tech’s mouth as he captures yours, swallowing the sound. He's so big, and the sudden intrusion is almost painful, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you cling to him, fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

His hands are bruising your thighs, and his hips are stuttering, the rhythm uneven and sloppy. There’s not much room to move, but he manages, thrusting shallowly, grinding his hips against yours.

"I'm sorry," he pants, his words slurring. "I'm not—fuck, I can't—"

"It's fine," you gasp. "It's fine, just—ah, Tech!"

Your back arches as he hits that spot inside of you, and he groans, his forehead dropping against yours. His goggles are pressing against your face, and you can feel the cold metal against your heated skin.

"You feel amazing," he pants, his hips rolling.

"You—you're not bad yourself," you gasp, and he laughs, a low, husky sound.

"Not bad? That's the best you can do?"

"You're ruining the moment," you groan, and he scoffs.

"Apologies," he says, his tone mocking. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

You roll your hips, and Tech grunts, his grip on your thighs tightening.

"You can start by fucking me properly," you breathe.

"As you wish."

His thrusts pick up speed, his hands moving to grip your ass, lifting you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock. The shelf behind you rattles, the items stacked on it shifting and wobbling, and Tech lets out a breathless huff of laughter.

"You're—Force, you're a hazard," he gasps, and you laugh, the sound morphing into a moan as he grinds against you.

"I've always wanted to say this," you pant, your nails scraping across his scalp, "shut the hell up and fuck me, Tech."

He growls, his pace picking up, and the angle of his thrusts changes, and suddenly, he's hitting that spot inside you again. Your orgasm is building, and you're teetering on the edge, your body thrumming with pleasure.

Tech is panting, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps, and his forehead is resting against yours, his lips brushing against your skin.

"Touch yourself,” he orders, his voice rough and hoarse. "I want to feel you come."

You comply, your hand slipping between your bodies, your fingers finding your clit. Your eyes flutter shut as the first jolt of pleasure hits you, and Tech lets out a choked groan.

"Look at me," he pleads, and you open your eyes, gazing up at him.

He looks utterly wrecked, his cheeks flushed, his mouth hanging open, his brow furrowed in concentration. He's gorgeous, and you can't believe this is actually happening.

Tech is fucking you, in a closet, while a bunch of Corries are patrolling the halls outside. It's the craziest, most insane, and most arousing thing that has ever happened to you. There's no doubt in your mind that you're going to be sore for a week, but it's totally worth it.

"You're so beautiful," he pants, his words slurring together. "You're so perfect, so tight, and Force, the sounds you're making—"

He cuts himself off with a groan as he drives into you, and you cry out, the pleasure building. He's babbling now, and it's not even coherent, just a stream of nonsense and curse words and half-formed sentences. He's saying something about how good you feel, and how much he's wanted this, and how he never thought he'd have this chance, and it's all a jumbled mess, but it's the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

His rhythm is erratic, his hips jerking, and his face is twisted with desperation and need. He's getting close, you can tell, and you're right there with him, teetering on the edge.

"Tech," you hiss, your hand speeding up, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit. "Oh, fuck, Tech—"

He slams into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside, and you shatter. You come hard, clenching around his cock, and you barely have time to clap a hand over your mouth before your orgasm crashes over you. You're biting down on your palm, your teeth leaving deep indents, and the sound that escapes your lips is muffled and raw.

"Oh," Tech gasps, his eyes fluttering closed. "You're going to make me—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The tension inside of him snaps, and he thrusts into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt and grinding against you, forcing you to take every last inch of him. His cock twitches, and his whole body goes rigid as his orgasm hits him.

He doesn't make a sound as he comes, his lips parting and his mouth opening in a silent cry. His hips jerk, his movements stuttering and uneven, and you feel the bloom of warmth as he fills you, his release spilling out of you, dripping down his cock.

Finally, he slumps forward, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, and he lets out a low, satisfied hum.

You can't stop the stupid grin that spreads across your face.

Tech is nuzzling at your neck, and you can feel him smiling, too, his lips pressed against your skin.

You're not sure how long the two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, breathing hard and basking in the afterglow. It feels like hours, but it's probably only a few minutes.

Tech pulls back, and you look up at him. He's gazing down at you, his expression soft and content. His goggles are crooked, and his hair is mussed, and his lips are swollen and red. You reach up, smoothing his hair down and straightening his goggles.

"Well," he starts, his tone dry despite his ragged breathing, "this has been a most enlightening day."

You burst out laughing, and he smirks, his nose bumping against yours.

"Nothing like a bit of field research to broaden the horizons," you tease.

"Indeed," he chuckles, his hand cupping your cheek.

You smile at him, and he smiles back, and the moment is so tender, so sweet, and you can't help but kiss him again. It's slow and lazy, and he sighs against your lips, his mouth warm and inviting. You could kiss him forever, and never get tired of it.

Finally, he pulls away, and you reluctantly let him go.

"I must admit," he says, his tone light, "that was far more satisfying than I'd imagined."

"Oh, you imagined it, did you?" you ask, and he smirks, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks.

"Perhaps once or twice," he confesses.

"Just once or twice?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Perhaps more," he amends, and the admission sends a thrill through you. “Though I had not anticipated anything quite so vigorous."

"I didn't know you had it in you," you tease. "I never would have guessed that you were such a deviant."

"Evidently you bring out a certain side of me," he replies. "One that I had not been aware of until today."

"Well, I'm happy to explore more sides of you, if you'd like," you murmur, and Tech hums.

"I would enjoy that.”

His lips brush against yours, and the kiss is soft and sweet, and your heart swells.

"But," he says, breaking the kiss and looking down at the floor.

You follow his gaze, and you both wince. Your pants are lying in a pile on the floor, along with your shirt, and Tech's codpiece and gloves. There are a few pieces of cleaning supplies strewn about, and your boots are on opposite ends of the closet. Tech's belt is laying on the ground, his pouches spilling out and his blasters resting haphazardly on the floor.

"We need to clean this up," he mutters.

"Yeah," you agree.

Neither of you move. You stay where you are, clinging to each other, and savoring the moment. It's not going to last forever, and you both know it. 

Once the two of you step out of this closet, things will change. Everything will change. But you can't find it in yourself to regret anything. Not the teasing, or the flirting, or the banter, or the argument, or the frantic, desperate sex. None of it.

And from the way Tech is looking at you, with a mixture of tenderness and awe and fondness, you know that he doesn't, either.

Eventually, though, Tech is the one to pull away. You both groan as he slides out of you, and the sound echoes through the tiny room. He sets you down gently, and your legs shake as you try to find your footing.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his eyes roaming over you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little…" you trail off as you glance down at yourself, taking in the sight of your bare thighs and the streaks of white that are slowly dribbling down them. "Uh, sticky."

"Yes," he agrees, his eyes glued to the mess between your legs. You watch his tongue flick out to lick his lips, and the hunger in his gaze is enough to make you blush.

"What?" you ask, and he blinks, seeming to snap out of his trance.

He flushes and looks away. "Nothing," he mutters, pulling his blacks up over his cock.

"Tech, come on," you say, a grin tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"I must admit the sight of you like this is rather... enticing," he says, his tone nonchalant. He's not looking at you, and he's pretending to straighten his armor, but you can see the pink flush on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

"Yeah?" you question, and his eyes flick up to meet yours.

"Yes," he murmurs, and the look he gives you makes your knees weak.

"Good to know,” you breathe. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you can't stop the grin that spreads across your face.

Tech shakes his head and picks up his belt, fastening it around his waist. He begins stuffing his pockets, and you watch him, amused. He's always so proper, so put together, and to see him like this, all riled up and horny, is an incredible sight.

"Are you just going to stand there?" he asks, eyeing you, and you grin.

"Maybe," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

"I will leave you here."

"Sure, you will."

"I will," he insists, but the look in his eyes gives him away.

"Okay, okay," you chuckle. You grab a cloth and wipe off the worst of the mess, and Tech hands you your pants and underwear. You pull them on, wincing at the damp fabric, and Tech holds out your shirt.

"Thank you," you say, and he nods.

"Of course."

You take the shirt from him, and your fingers brush against his. His touch sends a shiver through you, and you can't resist the urge to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek.

Tech stiffens, surprised by the gesture, but you see the corners of his lips quirk up in a smile.

"Now what was that for?" he asks, and you shrug.

"Do I need a reason?"

"I suppose not," he admits, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

You can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, and neither can he. You finish getting dressed, and the two of you straighten up as best you can. Tech smooths down his hair and adjusts his armor, and you wipe the smudges off his goggles with the cloth in his belt. He helps you button your shirt and tuck your hair back into place, and he looks like he's enjoying himself. 

You have a sneaking suspicion that he likes undressing you, and putting you back together again.

When he finishes, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you.”

"For what?" you ask, confused.

"For helping me see the value of a little spontaneity.” Tech gives you a small smile, and his eyes are warm. "I may have been...wrong, about today. It's been an illuminating experience, and I'm grateful for it."

The rush of affection you feel for him catches you off guard. He's such a dork, and he's so sincere, and the way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, pulling him down for a quick kiss. He lets out a startled sound, but he kisses you back, his lips gentle and warm.

"Who would've thought," you murmur as you pull away. "You have a healthy psyche after all."

Tech scoffs. "I told you—"

A shout echoes down the corridor, and the two of you freeze.

"They've gotta be around here somewhere," a voice calls.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Time to go," Tech replies, and the two of you burst into motion. You both dart to the door, and Tech cracks it open, peeking out.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod, your cheeks still pink.

He pushes the door open, and you dash out. Tech's fingers curl around yours, and you follow him as he leads the way. Your feet slap against the floor, and your breath is coming in short, harsh gasps. Tech's hand is hot in yours, his grip firm, and his thumb rubs comforting circles into your palm.

You don't even bother trying to remember where you're going. You just follow him, trusting him to lead you to safety. You can hear the voices of the troopers echoing behind you, and their footsteps are growing louder.

"There!" a voice shouts, and Tech curses under his breath.

He tugs on your hand, pulling you around a corner. The two of you are sprinting now, and you're panting, and your heart is pounding. A bubble of laughter escapes your lips, and Tech shoots you a look, but the corners of his mouth are turned up in a smile.

"This is insane," he mutters, and you grin.

"It's fun," you correct.

"This is the last time I ever listen to one of your ideas.”

"We both know that's not true."

"Unbelievable," he sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm just saying," you argue, "we both enjoyed ourselves, didn't we?"

"Yes," he admits reluctantly. He suddenly pulls you to the left, ducking down a side corridor. "But next time, I choose the location."

"Next time, huh?"

"Yes, next time," he huffs.

Tech pulls you through another doorway, and the two of you race down a flight of stairs, then another, until you reach the ground floor. You can see the entrance up ahead, and you muster the last of your strength, putting everything you have into one final burst of speed.

The doors slide open, and the evening light streams in, bathing you both in its warm glow. Tech's fingers are still laced with yours, and he doesn't let go, not even as the two of you burst out of the building and onto the streets.

Tech tugs you to the right, and you follow, his hand warm and firm in yours. You can still hear the shouts of the Corries behind you, but they're getting fainter. You're both out of breath, and your hearts are racing, but the excitement is intoxicating.

Tech finally slows to a walk, and he glances over his shoulder, checking for any pursuers. He doesn't let go of your hand.

"That was certainly a memorable excursion," he remarks.

"Told you it would be fun," you grin.

"Yes, yes, you were right, and I was wrong," he concedes with a long-suffering sigh.

"Never gets old, hearing you say that."

"I can tell," he grumbles, but there's a smile playing on his lips.

The two of you continue on, your steps slow and leisurely, and the streets are quiet around you. It's later than you thought it would be, and there's no doubt the others are wondering where the two of you are. But you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when Tech is looking at you like that.

"So," you start, and Tech raises an eyebrow. "What do we do now?"

"Well," he replies, his voice taking on a thoughtful tone. "I suppose we should head back to the ship."

"Right. Of course." You try your best to keep the disappointment from your voice, but the way you deflate must give it away. Tech glances at you, his expression inscrutable, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips.

"And then," he continues, his hand tightening around yours, "I'm going to need some help with the power couplings."

You blink and look up at him. His eyes are twinkling, and the corners of his mouth are turned up in a small smile.

"Oh, do you?" you ask, a smile tugging at the corner of your own mouth.

"Yes," he replies. He lets go of your hand and places his palm against your back, his thumb stroking your spine. "I'm afraid I need someone to help test them. Someone with a very discerning eye."

"I see," you murmur, biting your lip to keep from smiling. "I guess I could help."

He slows to a stop, and turns to face you. The evening sun is setting, and the light is catching in his dark brown eyes, making them glow golden. His hand is still on your back, and he pulls you closer, until the two of you are nearly touching.

His free hand tilts your chin up. "I'd appreciate it."

"And maybe after," you continue, a mischievous glint in your eye, "we could test the other parts of the ship."

"That's an excellent idea," Tech replies, and his fingers tighten in the fabric of your shirt. "We will need to make sure we are thorough. It wouldn't do to leave any part of the ship untested."

"No," you agree, a grin spreading across your face. "It would be irresponsible."

"Precisely."

Tech meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Your hands find his neck, and he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you. You can't stop the sigh that escapes you, and he swallows it, his mouth slanting over yours.

He breaks the kiss, and he's smiling, his cheeks flushed. Your hand comes up to cup his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut, his head tilting into your touch.

"So," you start, your thumb stroking his skin, "shall we head back to the ship?"

"After you, darling," he replies, his voice low. He presses one more kiss to your lips, and then he's stepping back, offering his arm.

You reach out to take it, and then you pause, considering. Your fingers drift over his bicep, and you look up at him, your eyes sparkling.

"Race you," you say, and then you take off, your footsteps echoing down the street.

Tech stares after you for a moment, before he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Infuriating," he mutters, and he sets off after you. 

The two of you run, chasing each other through the streets of Coruscant, and the air is filled with your laughter. It's a beautiful night, and the city is alight with the glow of the sunset. There's a breeze blowing, and it rustles your hair, and the scent of flowers is in the air.

And there's a warm feeling in your chest, something bright and light and free, and you can't stop laughing.

It's impulsive, and foolish, and everything Tech would normally hate. But it's perfect, and as he chases after you, the smile on his face only widens.

Maybe there's something to be said for spontaneity, after all.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild

[autistichalsin]

Halsin's autism coding really jumps out in his camp confession scene

Both the romantic and platonic one. Starting with the romantic one:

He thinks asking about his past lovers is a sign of interest (I notice a lot of autistic folks like us tend to never get it "right"- when we guess that someone might be interested because of cues we were told were romantic, we get it wrong, whereas when someone is showing certain cues, we think it's just friendly!)

The way he feels the need to explain why he thinks you're interested in him before you accept or reject. This one isn't explicitly explained, of course, but it is very easy to read it as an autistic person afraid of being harshly rejected/told they're insane to think there was a connection, so he puts out an explanation first in the hopes of softening the blow if he turned out to be wrong.

Halsin completely, and adorably, misinterprets the player if they tell him "maybe your heart stirs easier than you think"; he doesn't understand that the player is partially slut-shaming him (which is rude af on the player's end, but he misses this because he's honestly un-slutshamable, so he would never be offended here) and partially asking for clarification- how can you have had many lovers yet your heart doesn't stir easily? Not understanding this, Halsin goes on to tell stories of his past exploits, which are hot and very welcome, but also very much not what the player as getting at.

If the player is an absolute asshole and mocks him by comparing him to a deep rothe, he is crushed, but stays calm, simply telling them that they could have just said no- he doesn't call the player a jerk like they deserved. Just feels very true to the 'tism experience.

This line alone could stand as proof, I think: "Nature gifted us our desires, and the means to act on them. But we muddied its beautiful simplicity with rules, social strictures... clothes." He hates social structures for their complexity, and prefers something simpler. The dislike of social structures, of their nebulous nature, is a core autistic experience.

If the player says they only helped because he's a useful ally, he once again misreads; he misses that the statement was a rejection, and responds earnestly that he sees them as much more than an ally.

For the new platonic path:

If the player tells him they just want him to carry heavy things for them, he responds differently based on his approval levels to them (I.E. based on how close they are and how kind he feels the player is); at low approval, he is deeply hurt by this, and sadly muses that "perhaps not all friendships are destined to be balanced and reciprocal." Yet... he still considers it a friendship, even though that is in practice no friendship at all. A lot of autistic folks have this experience of being friends with people who don't share the same level of affection, or even outright mistreat, us.

In fact, the same thing happens in another variation: if the player snarks about Halsin inviting himself along (a way of saying "get lost"), he laughs and warmly says that he guesses he did invite himself along, and that he will be "more tactful when trying to make friends in future." Declaring oneself friends with others is such a classic autistic experience, but even MORE so is declaring yourself friends with someone who only tolerates, or even actively dislikes, you. It's quite sad- but also very endearing, because I feel so SEEN in that moment.

[libraford]

msbriket You know how they say us autistics see every detail? I just think a lot of people forget what's not important to them personally. What she's really saying is: why won't you let me ignore your wishes like last time so I can forget about them again?

You know, even before I started seeing autistic traits in myself I was confused why autism had such a negative association to it because like:

"takes things literally" is more like... trusting people at their word. Trying to follow instructions accurately. Remembers promises made.

"lacking in certain social tacts" - does their best to speak clearly and concisely. Tries to avoid being misunderstood because they would want the same for themselves.

"doesn't like breaking rules" - rules that are there for our safety are in our best interest to follow!

"has difficulty with changes in routine" - doesn't like being lied to or misguided. Would like instruction to be clear.

Which I have always perceived to be good things. "Concerned about fairness." "Strong moral compass."

Those are good things to have. In fact, you WANT a person like that in most workplaces. A person who tries to follow instructions and remembers things, who tries to speak clearly and truthfully, who understands the rules and asks for confirmations, who tries to make sure things are fair and accessible? Honestly, sounds great.

The problem is that the corporate world is all about lying and placating and bargaining and making false promises and hoping that they'll forget.

And then there's The Gender. Which is another layer of bull. Because the specialist in my field that infodumps during training and lacks tactful criticism techniques in a long unbroken tone is the best in the business, but I get lectured on my tone and body language. He's allowed to talk endlessly on the topic. I'm not allowed to ask questions or request clarification.

That, and some people only really know autism in its forms of nonverbiality, emotional disregulation, and motor control which require assistance and not like... an entire Golden Corral of traits that include those things and more.

Yadda yadda, neurotypicality is a 3 apples 5 apples situation.

[elred001]

(This may be uncomfortable for some people. Please be very careful and proceed with discretion. Hugs and kisses for everyone)

I really don't think you guys understand how obsessed I am with BuckTommy. A month ago I had no more than 100 9-1-1 bookmarks in ao3 and now I'm over 350, all the new ones being about them.

I'm autistic, I have ADHD, I'm asexual and coming to that realization was one of the most precious and liberating moments of my life. Lists are everything to me, they are the definers of my life. I have a hard time understanding social subtleties and metaphorical language, and my biggest drawback that autism brought me was my incompetence to regulate and understand emotions. Mine or others. So I had this huge list of what emotional attraction and/or interest is supposed to feel like, and how my body is supposed to react around those I'm attracted to or like or love, so it was such a mess and an absolute pain that every time someone touched me intimately it felt like ants were running across my skin and biting into my flesh. And I cried a lot about it, and I screamed and I had fits of anger that I didn't understand at all and my parents hugged me to calm me down but that only made it worse because, tact. Touch. Awful. I made myself do things I hated because I thought it was normal and I hated myself for feeling bad about it. Those were hard times.

A couple years ago I went on a sexualities research binge and went down an ADHD rabbit hole trying to learn everything I could because I was so tired of feeling that way, and that's when I found out.

Learning about asexuality felt like magic, it felt like freedom. It felt like crying after years of putting up with it all. It felt like relief. It all made sense and the world opened up to me, and I felt like I was meeting myself for the first time. It was beautiful.

Of course, then came the moments of panic because, how was I going to tell my mom that I am asexual? Or, am I even asexual or do I just want attention? And then the famous "so how do I know I love someone romantically if I don't really want anything physical with them?"

Where am I going with all this? Well, I'm obsessed with the way the series and Oliver have portrayed the realization. The idea that discovering something completely new, and it's actually not as new as you thought, brings more than just fear. Bring freedom. Bring understanding. Brings an "Oh" moment that feels down to your bones and penetrates your soul, and you can never come back from that moment because everything feels like you finally woke up and the whole world opened its arms to you.

And it's something sweet. It is something very delicate, soft, hopeful and so, so precious. And Buck, Evan, is experiencing it all for the first time with a man who is soft to him, sweet, considerate. He is learning about himself from someone kind, so he has the opportunity to have his "Oh" moment and feel freedom, because that freedom is being given to him by someone who knows what it's like to feel imprisoned. So nothing is rushed. So everything is calm and full of understanding. So Evan can feel emotions. And feel good throughout the entire process.

So yes, I am obsessed with them both and I love them and I want them so much that they last a long time and that Tommy stays.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I just got done with a fic where I missed a tag and I’m trying to figure out how I feel about it. The tag was dyslexic blackbeard/ed. There’s been so much discourse about Ed’s literacy. Which I don’t understand because we’re shown examples of him reading so idk why it’s a thing people think. So I tend to get easily triggered when he’s made to look like he can’t read or has trouble with reading. I know plenty of people have reading issues like dyslexia but to give it to Ed what with all the discourse? I’m curious as to what your thoughts are about this.

Man I honestly just think it really really really depends, y'know? There are two things that I think can be true here at once:

Fiction can reveal a lot about unconscious biases and racism in fandom spaces, and the way Ed's literacy has been discussed and there's so many fics about him having to learn to read even though he's clearly shown reading on screen in s1e5 is a prime example of that

Fanfic is also a great and cathartic way to put characters in situations as a way for the author to express themselves and explore their personal struggles in a safe space

I'm not gonna come out here and say things like "don't write Ed with your specific learning disability." But, at the same time, I think white authors especially really should consider how they write characters of color with relation to things like dyslexia.

The simple fact of the matter is that learning disabilities and neurodivergence are always going to be different when you're not white. Like, I have autism and ADHD and I don't have dyslexia but I have dyscalculia, which is kinda similar (think dyslexia but for numbers). Brown kids with learning disabilities are always going to be on a different playing field and we're going to have a different set of struggles with diagnosis, relationship to our disability, etc. than white kids. For example, Ed's more likely to be undiagnosed, to face disciplinary action in school for things he can't help related to his disability, and be labeled as "defiant" for struggling.

I'm never going to tell someone with ADHD, say, that they shouldn't write Ed as ADHD to explore that, but I do think authors should be mindful of how race factors in here. Like, even though one of my ADHD symptoms can be trouble keeping my space organized, I'm not going to give that to Ed because I worry it would fall too much in line with tropes about brown people being messy or unclean and Ed's always shown to prefer a clean, tidy space in the show.

I don't think, even given the discourse about Ed's literacy, there should be a hard limit here. I don't think we should automatically write off stories where Ed has dyslexia, because I could see them being done amazingly well by authors who have experience with that disability and who have considered how Ed's race will interact with his experiences. A fic where Ed's had to work ten times as hard and now he's a best-selling author, for example? Sign me the hell up!

Tl;dr: it depends? I don't think we should ever say "you CAN'T write about this character with this disability," but I also think that when writing about characters of color with disabilities, there's a responsibility to approach the topic with care, tact, and dignity.

[ma-lark-ey]

Lark Liveblogs Literature: THE SUNSHINE COURT BABYYYYY LETS GO JEAN

to begin: THE COVER???

The fucking NARCISSUS/DAFFODIL. Stop stop stop. Nora stop. She said it wouldn’t be a sun but I WASNT READY.

RESILIENCE. FIRST BLOOM AT THE END OF WINTER. NEW BEGINNINGS AND REBIRTH.

warning in advance for how many reaction images will be in this post. Miss Nora Sakavic has a way of making me unable to verbalise how devistated I am so I turn to goofy photos.

Also, just so we’re all on the same page:

it’s 1:20 AM. My roommate IS asleep. I am fighting the demons (downloading this book) but i am winning (it is queued on my kindle)

ITS DOWNLOADED LETS GO

Okay so context is that my Kindle is at 10%

I tried to go to bed and read this in the morning but I am

SO NOW I HAVE FRANTICALLY FOUGHT A WAR (figured out how to get this book) AND I AM READY FOR BATTLE (to cry over Jean)

ONE, TWO, THREE, LETS GO BITCH!!

Also my kindle cord is too small for me to properly lay in bed so im literally about to lay on my stomach kicking my feet like a middle schooler WISH. ME. LUCK.

CHAPTER ONE:

oh we’re jumping right in okay. god. hi baby :((

OH. I am just adding onto my #1 Riko hater agenda right now.

“The golden rule— not where the public can see” DIE. LITERALLY DIE TETSUJI

“The lack of broken fingers this time” THIS TIME??? JEAN. JEAN.

im so.

RENEE!!!

“and he had wasted them texting Renee a heads-up.” Nora please we’re only four pages in bro

Renee i love you im marrying you please give me a kiss. Mwah Mwah Mwah. She said “Bitch. Lay back down.”

currently also reading a batshit raven!neil fic and just. on the ground. about all of this.

stop the way I literally went “who the fuck is Nathaniel” Im too transgender for this.

Me, seeing the Abby content we need in this world:

Jean dont call that hellscape home bbg

Renee beating self worth into this man. ily

“Jean couldnt remember the last time he was allowed to wear color” LITERALLY KILL ME

Nora I need you to be less good at describing pain please and thanks

NOT THE BITING

DADMACK DADMACK DADMACK DADMACK!!

he fr be moving this man like a doll. love you wymack

tied him up with racquet laces I. h. lays on floor softly crying.

NOT THE DADDY ISSUES

Jean fr out here plotting 50 ways to kill his brother. he fr though Neil was the problem. no girl Neil just has no tact and autism rizz. Kevins the fucking snitch

no one:

Jean @ the Moriyamas;

“that man is years overdue for a head-on high-speed collision” YOU TELL EM DADMACK

CHAPTER TWO:

Jean please just sleep like a normal human man. God.

Even Jean be out here like “Kevins a little Chihuahua ass drama queen. Bitchboy. Wet cat man.”

Kevin: look, bro, if the 5’3 twink with enough daddy issues to make riko blush and chugs ‘fuck around and find out’ juice for breakfast can escape the moriyamas and not die, so can you.

Testuji. Testuji when I catch you. Tetsuji

Jean what the fuck makes you think anyone but Andrew Minyard will ever tell Neil what to do. Girl.

“If I am not a Raven, who am I?” A MOTHERCUCKING TROJAN BABYYYY

“I have to go to my next class.” I forgot they were in college deadass. Neil is straight up my age im gonna throw up.

Okay. It is. *checks time* 3 AM. I cannot keep my eyes open, which means i must put Jean away for sleep.

ITS IS NOON THE FOLLOWING DAY. I HAVE SLEPT. I HAVE TAKEN MY MEDICATIONS. TIME TO HYPERFOCUS BABY.

KINDLE SAYS WE HAVE 8 hrs 27 mins LEFT IN THIS BOOK. IM SAYING GOODBYE TO MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY. I’LL SEE Y’ALL AT DINNEE TIME. ITS JEAN TIME.

Hiiiiiii Thea….

“Good morning, Paris.” Now, the average man will see this as a reference to his frenchness. but real ones know Paris is prince of Troy, the man who married Helen of Troy & started the Trojan war.

do y’all think Jean has a french accent wait wait wait. obviously itd be very slight at this point but is it there. necessary question.

Assessing Thea like a fucking state exam right now. Neil could not have cared less about your ass I am gaining so much information

Hate of my life Riko moriyama.

CHAPTER THREE:

JEREMY FUCKING KNOW HI BAYYYBY

the way I literally got up and had to pace and stim for a moment even though I fully expected this. autism. my roommate is concerned. not really. she’s used to this she watched me read TKM and dramatically reenact the Ichirou Car Talk.

wow??? AFTG team actually seems happy and well-adjusted and friendly with each other??

Random Note: I’m currently watching Blue Exorcist & one of the main characters is a girl name Moriyama and I’m literally just sitting here like “This girl is way to nice and innocent to have that name.” Because she literally is the nicest girl to ever exist. Why is she cursed with the same name as my mortal enemy (Testuji)

“Tonight’s experiment was the icing on the cake, an invaluable experience no matter how it ended.” Jeremy, my love.

He has empathy… Never before seen footage. Y’all get the cameras!!

He’s so shaken about Jean,,, holding you so gently Jeremy. Here as a guy who knows nothing at all about Jeremy since I’m. so new here. but god.

Jeremy: are you sure a Raven can abide by Troja—

Kevin: Bro Jean is so pathetic he’s a bottom fr. He never disobeys an order

Jeremy: I. Okay you didnt have to say it like that, bro.

I will literally never stop respecting the Trojans strat in the final they really said. “If these fucks can win the championships with nine players, surely we can.” and then willingly got their asses handed to them.

“Xavier stumbled when he got the next serve off, and the Fox guarding him gamely hauled him back upright before running for the ball. It was a simple gesture, but it endeared Jeremy to them” I dont remember if this bit was described in tkm so i’m going to guess that’s Nicky or Matt. Aaron would fucking never.

Nah because like. Yes this proved to the Trojans how resilient the Foxes were, but it was also a message to the audience, yk? Like we know the Foxes were getting shit for their quick rise to the top after they pulled their shit together, but I personally think that the Trojans did this both for their improvement & for Foxes’ publicity. This game proved to the public at large how devastatingly *good* the Foxes were, because of their small size. The second best team in the league crumbled playing the same conditions the Foxes did *every game* and got to championships with. They proved that Foxes were, in fact, a D1 team who earned their keep.

oh hes got daddy’s money. Well. not. officially. yo what I mean.

“it was always best to have a paper trail” Neil Josten would have an anuerysm hearing those words.

Bye Jeremy I’m. Love you so much. Why do you feel like a sixty year old man in your early twenties.

“between seven and twelve students.” yikes.

“unfamiliar and accented voice.” I WAS RIGHT I FUCKING CALLED IY HES GOT AN ACCENT BABY FUCK YEAH

“you ever feel like— like you’re making a choice you cant come back from? But even knowing everything could go completely sideways, you’d make that choice every time?” okay so coming out allegories i could make aside, Jeremy is so… where to start with him. He reminds me of Percy Jackson. Endlessly loyal and selfless to the point its a bit stupid but endearingly stupid.

CHAPTER FOUR:

Okay so we’re alresdy hateflirting. noted.

Its also extremely sunny today in Podunk Hicksville where I live so it feels very On Brand.

“Jean had seen that smile in a half-dozen broadcast… He could picture it too easily, and he dug his fingernails into his own face in vicious warning.” Awww you think you can best the gay worms in your brain. goodluck with that Johnny.

“isn’t that reason enough to keep living? To rediscover simple delight one moment at a time,” keeping this quote for eternity

“enough sunlight to chase away Evermore’s shadows. They are willing to take a chance on you. Aren’t you?”

Kevin Day autistic king. taking this hesdcannon to my grave .

“the conspiracy theorists were working overtime” no girl they just aint stupid.

THEY DESTROYED HIS POSTCARDS…

CHAPTER FIVE:

I want to start keeping record of all the times Jean is like “[name] wasn’t decent enough to [thing]” because its SO funny. We LOVE a petty king.

also keeping track of all the insults he throws at Neil.

Neil likes to think he’s SUUUUCH a loner boy no friends angsty “dont speak to me” resting bitch face ass motherfucker. In reality he is a jack russell terrier — ceritifed jack russell owner who’s dog thinks hes soooo big and bad but said dog literally cries when you dont let him in the bed or say hi to people on the street

Jean is SOOOOOO dramatic 😭😭

Jean: Why would you let Kevin do this.

Neil: let him?? He did that on his own.

Jean: you’re proud of him for being a problem, arent you?

Neil: oh you fucking know I am, bitchass

“but other than his outstanding murder charge there was nothing interesting about that Fox.” i’d consider that very interesting information, Jean. Youre just deranged

“with milk, juice, and vodka dominating one shelf” that’s Aaron, Nicky, Andrew/Kevin in order. Im correct.

“There was an entire drawer dedicated to cheese.” Yeah that sounds like Nicky.

“Half the drawer was full of mini candy bars. Jean threw them all into the trash” bro Andrew is going to kill you in cold blood and not even Neil can save you.

Jean is SO dramatic. Give him Kevin’s crown.

Jean @ Neil during the final: ARE YOU WITHOUT INTELLIGENCE????? ARE YOU STUPID??? DO YOU WANT TO DIE??

Seeing the media coverage of the championship is the food I needed thank you Nora for this. I am eating it up. om nom nom

The sportscasters referring to athletes with their first name is batshit. What. why. huh. Absolutely not.

CHAPTER SIX:

Renee protecting Jean from discovering Riko’s death through media & not through them…

Everytime boys start fistfighting in this series I hear Roxanne from Megamind. “Ladies, ladies, you’re BOTH pretty.”

a) Jeans reaction to finding out was exaclty what I expected

b) I’m FASCINATED to know who called campus security. Jeremy?? Renee?? Someone in Fox tower???

Neil was gentle with someone other than Andrew? I didnt know he knew how to do that…

NEIL. NEIL JOSTEN. YEAH BABY

HES ROOMING WITH CAT AND LAILA??? YES YEA YES YESY

the Jean-Renee dynamic is so fucking important to me. MLM/WLW solidarity. theyre besties.

THEYRE SO IMPORTANT TO ME BRO.

Literally snuggling Jeremy

Oh he’s got Fox potential. Hiiii Jeremy. Give me the traumadump bbg

THEY/THEM??? DO MY EYES DECEIVE ME OR IS THIS AN HONEST TO GOD THEY/THEM PLAYER OH ILL CRY. ILL CRU RIGHT NOW

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Oh Jean. you’re about to have such a gay awakening babe i can feel it in my bones.

A FUCKING YOYO??? I LOVE HIM

“A mite bit hecked up” PLEEEASE JUST SAY FUCK /ref

OH HE WAS IN LOVE WITH KEVIN. INTERESTING INTERESTING INTERESTING.

autism coded lookingg motherfucker (stares at Jean.)

The chaos of Cat and Laila’s house is so fucking cute. Its about to be two lesbians and their distrustful pitbull rescue in this bitch and im ready for it.

CHAPTER EIGHT:

watching normal people discover the cult that is Evermore. Finally someone having a normal response to that madness. What the FUCK.

wait theres actually a cardboard dog i thought it was fanon joke.

oh my god there is actually a fucking cardboard dog. i.

jeans brain just got actually shattered by this living room. he cannot comprehend this.

Cat & Jeremy, realizing the cult rumors are real: I THOUGHT YOU WERE KIDDING! I thought it was joke! I even wrote it down in my diary! “Kevin made a very funny joke today!” I laughed at it later that night!

Okay, last night; I went to bed at 2:30 AM 45% through (college my beloathed). we’re back in business.

Jeremy is so disturbed all of the time. goofy ass.

“Loving something is not enough,”

“When was the last time you enjoyed playing?”

“ Irrelevant.”

Whats his shirt look like Jeremy. Jeremy whats the shirt look like. Jeremy. Whats the shirt look like.

Okay so I’ve reached my image limit for this post and I dont have fun reaction images on my laptop. so now I will post this & reblog with the rest of this book.

[butchsky]

>:).. elaborations below.. /paws

starborne jason firstly (also feel free to steal it i love spreading my silly autism propoganda):

he is, by FAR, the oldest of the tc group. chronologically, anyways. yellow supergiants range from a few thousand to *millions* of years old, and jason is on the lower end of that spectrum (so, think, like, 200,000). starborne age *much* slower than humans / earth hybrids do, though, so he looks and acts much closer to, like.. seventeen or eighteen. (he's also the shortest of the group.)

being a star, and a yellow supergiant specifically, he runs *hot.* like, badly so. like, people can't touch him for more than a few seconds without it hurting. they joke that you could probably fry an egg on him.

he also has, like, ZERO immune system, being from space and all. he gets sick really often, and while it doesn't always stick due to his body heat, sometimes it leads to some STRONG ass bacteria. fucker's like a petri dish. also, he uses a nasal cannula and an air filtration thing! tying into his health issues, he canNOT breath straight overworld air. (interestingly, though, he seems to have much less trouble breathing in the end.) it looks pretty normal, and he keeps the tank / filter in a portable bag.

seto:

this is also a lot of cultural infodump because ive spent years working on end hybrid lore. seto was a studying / practicing mage, working under royal alchemists. he wasn't a full-fledged mage *quite* yet, but he was well on his way.

he also has a natural penchant for being curious, and it gets him into a lot of trouble sometimes. this is how he ended up living in the overworld; he was sent off to gather materials for a spell, and got distracted and wandered off. he ended up getting caught in a rainstorm and losing the end portal, so he kind of just got stranded. he didn't speak ANY english at first, it took him a while to actually learn.

enderian and english are very, VERY different languages, and the overworld / english has a lot of things that seto had never even seen, much less enderian having words for them. there's a page in an old journal of his where he wrote down learning about the concept of the sun and the word for it, for example. his journals slowly transitioned from being in enderian to being in english, now he mostly just writes in enderian if its something personal or private.

he still busies himself as a mage now, but still not official and largely just doing whatever the hell he wants. very interested in culture, hybrids, etc, and has absolutely zero tact asking questions about it. (he had a field day with mitch.)

also, seto originally faced a *lot* of issues being in the overworld, due to many humans / overworlders (or "brightlanders") being suspicious or distrustful of enderians. he still kind of does sometimes, although being close with tc (and sky especially) has made people, uh. much less likely to voice those kinds of things. his name also isn't technically SETO. his name is ⏁☍⊬, pronounced like "(t)ss-ah-yo" (the s is a hissing sound), but people kept switching the sounds around and caling him seto so he just kinda went with it. (he doesn't mind it now, he's come to like it.)

also, enderian has three different words for animals of varying classifications; one for beasts, which are wild animals, and then ones for domesticated animals (i.e livestock) and pets. when seto first met jerome, he accidentally called jerome all three of these on varying occasions because enderian didn't have words / concepts for the kind of hybrid jerome is, so he just kind of saw him and went "oh! animal". jerome will not let him live it down now.

lavender axolotl mudkip is brought to you by the fact that blue axolotls don't actually exist irl, and one of the closest you can get is lavender. >:3

also wrt tags, bjd mitch is one of my favourite things ever. EVER. at first glance, he looks human! he does! until you look closer and you realize his skin looks like plastic and his eyes move oddly, and he doesn't make facial expressions, and his mouth doesn't *move* when he speaks-- yeah, he scared the FUCK out of the tc crew when they met. he knows he's a doll, but he doesn't know *why.* he doesn't have memories of "his" childhod, but his creator (dad) explained it away as amnesia from head trauma. (in actuality, the head trauma is what killed his real son, and it was just something he said to continue the fantasy.)

mitch, by creation, is meant to be around 21 years old. if we're going off the time he was *created,* so chronologically, then he would be five. (this makes him the "youngest" member, in the same way that starborne shit makes jason the oldest.) he lived in a cabin out in the woods with his 'dad', going on with life "as usual" after what he believed to be amnesia. there were no mirrors in the house, so mitch couldn't see himself, and see the things that made him, clearly, not human (and not the "real" one).

things got on great for that time, it only got "bad" after his 'dad' passed away. mitch himself was fine, physically; he didn't need to eat, or sleep, or anything of the sort. mentally, not so much, and the house itself fell into *horrible* disrepair. he knew *how* to fix things, but he just physically can't move his hands to have actually *fixed* them without his dad. at this time, he also fully believed that his dad was just.. out. jerome comes across the cabin about a year afterwards. he thinks its abandoned, so he goes to check it out and potentially loot it, but he runs into mitch while he's searching one of the bedrooms. (of course jerome gets the shit scared out of him, but they get past it.)

they end up becoming friends, and jerome visits him almost every day. he tries to broach the idea of mitch leaving, but he's insistent that he's "waiting for dad". it's not until jerome finds his dad's journal in a drawer that he figures out what's going on, and that mitch's 'dad' absolutely is *not* coming back.

(jerome convinces him eventually, saying that his dad wouldn't want him to be all alone with the house like this and no help, so "come with me, and we'll leave a note and i'll bring you back once he's home!")

of course, mitch knows by now that his dad's dead. he knows he's a doll, but he still doesn't know what happened to the "real" mitch. jerome refuses to *ever* tell him; he doesn't see a reason to do something like that to him. if mitch finds out on his own, sure, but jerome refuses to say it himself or let anyone else say it.

this got long as fuck so i can send solace lore in another ask if u want :heart:

i wanted to wait to reply to this when i wasnt so exhausted (ive been soo busy and low energy recently) but WOW. i am invested in all of this!! the planning and writing and world building- oh i am in love with it.

i have no other notes, honestly. (in my honest opinion, mitch and seto really are my favorites out of everything you've told me so far. wow! little doll mitch, im imagining it and am just.. obsessed. so so obsessed)

the world building for the end- ohh i love that. curious little seto. oughhh. ougghhh. puts my head in my hands. hunches over. grunts and groans.

but please feel free to share more, whenever you are willing! my ask box is always, always open. you do not need to ask to share anything with me, hehe

[nyaagolor]

I like the Nemona autism post! Think you’ll make a comic about her friends like Arven, Penny, and MC helping her with her insecurities?

I have a really hard time with comics that aren't silly so I wrote this instead. SV quartet is both very fun to write and also a nightmare because none of them have an ounce of tact as a side effect of being 16. Anyways THANK U!!

-

Violeta hadn’t realized Nemona was trailing off until the sudden silence snapped her back to attention. The others seemed to have noticed it too, because Arven had stopped mid-bread-buttering and Penny was doing a terrible job at pretending she wasn’t stealing glances at Nemona, her phone game abandoned. Nemona was already doing that thing that Violeta had come to expect from her, head slightly bowed and holding her braced arm to her chest like she was curling in on herself. She was the one to finally break the silence, and not to resume her rambling on the history of Johtoian boom teams. 

“Do you guys think I’m, like, annoying?” Nemona asked. She seemed genuinely bothered by this out of the blue revelation, fidgeting with her tie and furrowing her brows as she flicked her gaze to each of her friends in turn. Violeta was not proud of the way she paused. Arven frowned, his gaze laser focused on the sandwich in front of him. Penny made a little noise in the back of her throat, expression pinched as she struggled to find the right words. 

“Oh,” Nemona replied, the earlier enthusiasm gone from her voice like a deflated balloon. She shook her head and continued with a practiced monotony that sounded like she was reading off a script. “I’m uh… that was really inconsiderate of me. I’ll try to keep your interests in mind more when I talk. It’s rude to dominate conversations, and I… uh… sorry.” 

“Hey, uh,” Penny interrupted her, concern written all over her face. “You’re not annoying, just… a lot sometimes?” She grimaced as though finding the right words was physically painful. 

“Yeah!” Arven added. “I like hearing you talk about stuff. I don’t like, get it– I’m not smart like you– but it’s uh. Nice?”

“You’re not annoying,” Violeta finally said. “It’s just… you talk a lot about stuff most people don’t care about.”

Nemona looked completely crestfallen. “Yeah,” she said, back to fidgeting with her tie. “I um. I realized you all looked really bored and I didn’t really know when you started looking bored and I realized I was probably annoying you all but you were too afraid to say anything, my mom always says I’m kinda intimidating when I'm like this and that’s why no one wants to be my friend. And, uh, the doctor tells me that people don’t like it when someone talks too much because they look selfish and I’m not like that, I care about your interests too but it’s re–”

“Hey,” Arven cut her off, looking wildly uncomfortable. “That’s not, I don’t think… That’s not true.”

“Which part?” Nemona asked. Arven waved the butter knife around like he could pluck the words out of the air. 

“All that weird stuff you were talking about, the whole uh, no one wanting to be your friend thing. We’re your friends.” Penny nodded along. “I actually like it when you talk a lot, it means I don’t have to. It’s cool when you talk about stuff and I can just be on my phone or whatever. It makes things not awkward.”

“I’m not bored,” Violeta added. “And I don’t think Penny is either, her face just looks like that.”

Penny shot a look Violeta’s way, huffing. 

“Yeah!” Arven reaffirmed. “It’s nice when you talk about stuff you like while I’m making sandwiches, it’s kinda calming in a way.”

“I just like hearing my friend talk about something she likes,” Violeta said.

Nemona’s expression started to brighten. “Really? You’re not mad?”

Arven waved a hand. “Ramble away.”

“Sometimes you just gotta infodump,” Penny reaffirmed, getting a quizzical look from Violeta and Arven. Nemona sat back, smile back on her face as she bounced her leg and stared up at the sky. Nemona’s excited rambling came back as quickly as it had gone, gaining confidence with each word. 

“Ok, where was I…”

[solarsleepless]

hello all

welcome back the kristy thomas autism analysis, where i'm rewatching the show and writing down her autistic traits as i see em (as well as noting any neurodiverse traits in the other girls). here's part 1 and part 2 if you haven't seen em.

without further ado, let's get into this

Episode 3

more of kristy hyperfixating on business and the club in general, reading the frickin art of war simply to find a way to beat the competition

not picking up that she should absolutely wait until her client's given birth before calling/texting her. lack of social tact

throughout the show, she doesn't really care what others think of her, with the exception of her friends, and even then she doesn't change herself much for them with the exception of if it's hurting themm. kristy shows zero embarassment parading around town in cardboard sandwiches

the most confrontational to the baby-sitter's agency of all the girls: strong sense of justice and not afraid to correct anyone if she thinks they're in the wrong, even if they're much older

more odd sitting, which as mentioned in part 2 is prevalent in autistics due to our need for proprioceptive input

not understanding that her joke of "or your blood pressure's dropping?" could be taken the wrong way

additional notes:

mary anne's "and actress halle berry." we often consume random trivia about our hyperfixations in the craving to basically wring out every bit of dopamine it gives us, which can include tidbits about actors. also, not realizing that it's odd to say in this situation, and justifying it with "what? she does!"

"we have to do the most responsible thing of all." "vacuum." this one is pure vibes. it Feels autistic. if i had to give a reason i'd say she thinks of it as a sign of responsibility due to the loud noise autistics will usually be more sensitive to and the fact that it's cleaning, which is generally a responsible thing to do, so it's doubly responsible because it means you did it even though you're sensitive to the noise?

not very much, so i'll do a special 3+4 mix just to make this one a bit longer :D

Episode 4

kristy doesn't tell mary anne conventionally that she's upset with her. instead of speaking to her like stacey and claudia do to express their upset with mary anne, she tells her that she's really upset with her by spending time sitting at tables apart from her. mary anne even thinks "if she's sitting with them, she must be mad." all this is to say that kristy is not very verbal when it comes to genuine upset with mary anne, and mary anne has learnt to recognize it

even though she is upset with mary anne, kristy still watches her when she talks to dawn because mary anne's her closest friend and the only one who truly understands who kristy is, both because of how close they grew up and because she is also autistic, and kristy doesn't want to lose that because it's hard for people to understand you when you're autistic.

not to keep bringing up the clothes but in comparison to the other three kristy wears much softer and more comfortable clothing, which again, can be a result of sensory issues that make wearing anything else from uncomfortable to downright painful

additional notes:

this is a mary anne centric episode, so we get a TON more of her autistic traits in general. this episode really resonated w me the first time i watched because damn i'm so much like her FHRHJFJ. anyways: she exhibits social anxiety, which happens to co-occur a lot with autism. "talking to people i know makes me feel like my stomach is falling out of my nose. so does talking to people i do knows sometimes. i think i'm just bad at talking." autistics tend to struggle with the unwritten social rules of society, and not knowing them can make conversations extremely stressful, especially if you're already not that self-confident. even with people you know, it can feel like you're "performing" for them, and that if you make one wrong step they'll make fun of you, and worst of all, all of it feels like your fault for not being competent enough—this is what i think happens with mary anne.

autistics (& adhders) tend to wayyy overapologize, even when others tell them not to, because we often feel like everything we've done is wrong and we apologize a lot to almost make up for that. it's nearly worse when you've actually done something wrong, because it doesn't feel like you can make up for what you did due to rejection sensitive dysphoria making you feel like a horrible person but also it can take away the weight because you say it so much.

mary anne cries twice in the episode without wanting to—not because she's ashamed of crying, but just because she knows internally that there's no reason to be crying. even when she's just talking more passionately she just cries, and she doesn't know how to stop it because she doesn't even feel like crying, it's just Happening. i couldn't find any research on this because it tends to just focus on how to parent uncontrollably sobbing autistic kids, but it's happened with me more times than i can count, where i'm not even feeling emotional but i'll just cry when speaking, seemingly for no reason. idk if that's part of the autism or just me but i'm including it anyways

also, running away from stressful situations is an autism thing, especially if you're embarrassed and overwhelmed

her dad is so autistic. he writes down when he has leisure time. come on yall. nobody allistic does that. also, infodumping about things he likes: in this case, a jerusalem artichoke: his niche seems to be more related to foods!!

"sorry, i have to work with sounding less obssessed." despite just being excited to make a new friend, she feels like she has to apologize for that. many autistics tone is misread for a myriad of reasons, which makes them feel the need to apologize for it because they've been taught it's wrong.

[mourningobject]

re: your post saying you have nuanced takes on proshipping; what nuance is there to not wanting csem/abuse/incest/etc written for entertainment and fandom without tact. "dislike both sides of the argument" perhaps it's my black and white autism thinking but genuinely what is there to dislike about not wanting twitter users to romanticize various forms of abuse. i am asking this not as some random hate anon but as someone who is considering whether or not to break mutual; i do not want anyone who can even slightly be okay with abuse for entertainment around me; and therefore am asking clarification.

Putting this under a cut because I don't want a biggie made out of it. TLDR; I dislike pro-shippers as people and think they are disgusting scum, but dislike anti as a label due to the rampant hypocrisy and occasional lack of nuance regarding if and how to portray sensitive content in art, as well as the performative behaviour & the lack of curating of their online spaces.

I've learnt to stop caring so much about what other people do even if the content they create makes me sick to my stomach. I do not agree with creating such content without tact or for the sake of making their dicks hard. But I just won't interact, I'll block. I also don't see how this material can be considered "abuse for entertainment"... unless you're talking about the abuse within the content.

But I understand your concern. You don't want someone perverse to be by your side. To elaborate on what I meant, the problem isn't with the concept of someone simply disliking seeing such things, that's more than fine. I just don't either as a Label, fundamentally.

Antis are more often than not performative and reactionary online (particularly the ones fixated on the subject, or with uncovering others as secretly being evil and such to the point of sending others retrospring asks like "Uuum, why do you follow [so and so]" and not even giving the @ for the person to block them and assuming the worst of them to the point it comes off as fake advocacy on their behalf. Especially when I myself follow artists who create questionable content once in a blue moon, but if it isn't their entire catalogue does that make me evil? These people aren't and will never be my friends. This is something that happened a lot on twitter, especially a few months ago. I understand the fear of being close to someone who's morals don't align with yours, but if you genuinely have concerns you may as well dm them instead of making a spectacle out of it), especially when most of them turn around and indulge in content that borders on the same, or even downright degeneracy on the side, as well as comparing it to genuine real world abuse or feeling it important to mention in cases that are totally unrelated where a person has committed actual crimes which is like, well, both can matter, but is now the time? I'd say it only counts in cases like that of Lily Orchard, where what she portrayed in her works was a reflection of her disgusting self and abuse she'd committed in real life. I don't believe in fiction not affecting reality because that is a redundant way to view art, as well as due to how art can reflect the creator's subconscious views, or normalize things to them, and they'll repeat again and again, "it's just fiction!" as if that makes it any better that they get off on the things they do. But these people will exist no matter what and so will the content they create, so antis should learn to actually curate their online spaces rather than getting into useless discourse, particularly teenagers who won't be able to change the minds of degenerate adults, or make a big deal about it publicly to show how they have the moral high-ground. Not to mention, countless antis I've seen are hypocrites who end up being revealed to believe this doesn't matter at all in the real world, or are friends with people who engage with pro ship content, but will harass others for it...? It's the rampant double standards that I don't like. Plus, a lot of media that antis love has elements that would be considered "pro ship" like nitro chiral games, and targets those audiences specifically, but they are surprised when the people it is made for interact with it. Of course I believe one can engage in media with disgusting things while being critical, though; I am an Ensemble Stars fan. There is shota-bait and incest all over the source material. That doesn't make me inherently sick because I'm not there for that, I understand that.

Also, most antis dislike these concepts being portrayed in media altogether, which is something I disagree with. If handled well these are experiences that deserve to be shared to others. Many victims have internalized so many horrific thoughts that they can't help but handle it imperfectly—that's something they have to deal with in therapy, though, why should I be the one to try to open their eyes as if it won't push them deeper into the hole they're in? You know?

There's also the thin line between "dark content" and "proship material". Who has the right to define this? (Obviously CSEM being inherently immoral is a given). That's all, mostly. There's more I've thought about before but I'm forgetting right now. I think both sides are worthy of critique and simply find most self-identified antis annoying, not nearly in a way that is as egregious as their counterpart, to be fair. I'm too busy simply being a Normal Person who also shakes his head in disdain when I see things like that. Even though I have mental problems regarding this sort of thing. I'm not saying to "not be sensitive", but to "not be stupid".

I think pro-shippers should stay away from antis because they are mostly children and victims themselves at that, and antis should stay away from pro-shippers because they are disgusting adults who will never be saved or changed by their protests.

My questions in this post are rhetorical even though I suppose I'm open to discussion and further elaboration but I think it's more than enough to show where I stand and whether you want to stay as my mutual or not. But that's essentially why I don't self-identify with either. Also, this could have used a dm, but I'm happy to explain my views. I’d at least appreciate an anonymous final verdict, though!

[progmetol]

A redo of Tactician’s ref!! Good lord I didn’t realize how badly the old one needed an update until I did this.

This is actually just page 1. Page 2 is going to include all her weapons and is more of just me nerding out about guns but ya’know.

I had wrote a bunch of stuff about details while sleep deprived so it may not make complete sense but I’ll include it under the cut. My autism inhibitors basically completely disabled here so it gets very detailed in some parts but I figured, might as well include it if I took the time to write it up.

So I changed her primary revolver from the diamondback to the stock revolver because I’ve previously established that Tact is more into historical guns rather than modern ones (she loves both though). The diamondback looked a little too modern and didn’t make as much sense since it mechanically only benefits a spy and the reason I had before was dumb so. Stock revolver. Plus a lot of classes share stock weapons anyway.

She also has another revolver that is basically a custom ruger vaquero chambered in .44 (think cowboy big iron gun). Engineer modded it for her and gave it to her as a Christmas present. So she gets that thing at some point. The drawback to it being a higher caliber is that it’s a single loader meaning the cylinder doesn’t swing out and you can’t use a speed loader because of that. Which irl there are plenty of .44 magnums that have swing cylinders but this is a game logic moment. She also has some other guns, including a scoped magnum, a basic ass M1911 that she keeps concealed under her belt, a derringer like Pauling’s concealed in her right boot, and then a lot of other random weapons that I could nerd out about but I’ll save that talk for never since I’ve already dropped enough stupid gun lore (though I will say I gave her an anti materiel rifle because I thought it would be funny). She also has a ton of combat knives but I haven’t thought them out yet other than the main one on her boot. It’s a serrated (warcrime irl!) bowie knife, the holster is kind of lose and can rotate a lot based on gravity so it can be drawn very leniently.

Her belt can hold 24 rounds at once, so that’s 24+6=30 at a time for 90% of the revolvers she has. She doesn’t typically need spare ammo when doing everyday work coordinating the battlefield, in fact it’s rare she even needs to shoot something other than while practicing or demonstrating to another merc.

her headset is wireless but she also has a radio that she uses instead during solo work. The headset is mostly for announcing crap and screaming orders at people in the thick of battle. Basically which one she’s using is entirely contextual

As for her field kit, she wears a jacket + a little neck bandana mostly to prevent dust, gravel, sand from getting in, desert stuff. It can also get chilly at night so it’s nice to have. She’s very used to the heat and doesn’t usually break a sweat when walking around with a jacket in the heat. She has a harness as well that basically has any and all the extra crap she may need on a job, extra rounds, identification, extra glasses, snacks, things you’d keep in a purse or gun bag (similar I know /s). Her holster goes over it. She also has a small messenger bag that she keeps larger stuff in, and then has her contracker on the back left side of her belt for easy access (same place as normal uniform). She usually clips the mic for her radio to the messenger bag and her jacket at once to keep it in place. The radio, btw, is a copy of the cosmetic for engineer since I wanted to keep it consistent.

[trolls-confessions]

as someone currently in a tornado warning (the sirens are LOUD) uhhhhhh which general area in the trolls world do you think gets hit by tornadoes most often? i think if there's a more temperate plains-like area in lonesome flats that can get good thunderstorms then that might be the place, though that might just be bc country trolls are most suited to the aesthetics of the rural american midwest period dramas that you see tornadoes in

also, fun fact: "Tornado Alley" the area of the midwestern us famous for the numbers of tornados it gets, actually gets 90% of the worlds' tornadoes, because the climate & geography is just that ideal for toronadoes

another fun fact: we know that tornadoes have windspeeds of 300+ mph, but we don't know how fast exactly bc that's the point at which the anemometers all got shredded to bits by the sheer strength of the wind

also also fun fact: it's not the winds in a tornado that's the most dangerous, it's the flying debris that the tornado picks up to wield

Well first of all anon congratulations on not dying, sorry to hear about your town but im glad your neighborhood is in tact

That being said i was so blind-sided by the idea of someone under the threat of an active tornadoe writing an essay on tornadoes affecting the subject of their hyperfixation that I blacked out reading all of that

That being said I respect the autism, godspeed soldier

[lionews]

“no, there is. I'm tired of neurodivergents who have it better always talking nonsense.”

THIS!!! Thank you for saying this. High functioning doesn’t even mean that you can live your life as normal. You struggle. Everyday you struggle. You come home and you’re exhausted and overstimulated after work/school. But you can go to work/school, you can make friends, you can mask, you can have a conversation with other people.

I can’t. I’ve never been able to hold down a job. I’ve lost friends because I lack tact. I haven’t been able to make any new friends since I was in middle school 10 years ago. I’ve dropped out of university 5 times because some things are just so difficult for me to grasp. I had my IQ tested a few times throughout my life and it was never under 120, and yet I performed AWFULLY at school. I cannot tolerate change and the only control I have over my aggression when something deeply upsets me is that I’m no longer physically violent, only “verbally” - I can’t even actually say anything when I’m upset, only text. I can’t talk to people about anything other than my interests. I try, but I end up disliking the other person because they’re too different from me. People don’t laugh at my unintentional bluntness as much as they laugh at the way I behave. People know there’s something wrong with me the moment they talk to me, or even look at me. And they rarely think I’m just a weirdo - they KNOW I’m disabled. I don’t have to tell them.

I’m only level 2. If I could choose not to have autism, I would. Autism made me who I am and I am miserable.

.

[aintmyjewelry]

How did you end up getting diagnosed? Was it a long process with a thousand dollar test or could you get it another way? I'm looking to get tested

(apologies, this is a pretty long post about the process but I hope it helps!!)

So for my diagnosis, I went through a neuropsychological center to get a neuropsychological evaluation and I initially went bc my therapist suspected ADHD but I tacted on the ASD testing because my mom has always been suspicious, haha (I think you have to go to a neuropsychological center for ASD but don't quote me on that)

The process was both long and not long. I initially reached out to the center to set up an appointment in late November. However, due to anxiety, I was really slow at responding to their emails and following up. By the time I was able to kick myself into gear (which was around Christmas), the closest appointment that worked with my schedule was in early March (March 10). I also had to set up an intake appointment (March 1) and then a follow-up appointment (today, March 22). I also had to provide my health insurance information right away before they set up any appointments.

Everything kind of happened quickly from there. There was a LOT of paperwork to fill out prior to my intake appointment. This included family history reports, self-reports (just symptoms I'm experiencing and such), contracts/agreements, etc. The paperwork is probably the most exhausting part especially if you ever feel like me and ur like "should I really be doing this? am i just being dramatic?"

I had to have the paperwork in before my intake appointment and then for the intake appointment it was like about 30-45 minutes and mine was with a postdoctorate student (the psychologist was out of the office that day). He basically reviewed the paperwork I had submitted and discussed what I was concerned about, what symptoms I was having, etc.

At the end of the intake appt, I was sent MORE paperwork lmao but these were like questionnaires (they covered both ASD and ADHD). They asked me questions about how i personally felt, my habits, some of my interests, socializing, empathy, etc. I was asked about the current day and childhood. My mom was also given questionnaires and I think hers were also a mix of current and childhood behaviors.

I had to hand in the questionnaires the day of my testing so I did that morning and then went in for testing. Testing for me was about 5 hours long and it was exhausting. It can be even longer depending on what tests you are going in for and if they have anything else they notice and want to explore (with ur permission). But mine was just one day, it went from about 9am-2pm and I had a break for lunch.

The evaluation itself was a lot. They described it as a "stress test for your brain" and they were NOT kidding. It was a mix of puzzles, electronic tests, verbal tests, memory, some tests on paper, etc. It was a lot but my tester was very nice and patient.

That then brings me to today which was my "feedback appt" where I met virtually with the psychologist and he walked me through results of EVERY test, including the questionnaires I and my mom completed. He gave his initial interpretations (as I have discussed in other posts lmao) and was very thorough and answered questions. It was about an hour long. I was not prescribed anything or referred for any treatment. I am not sure if that comes with the diagnosis stuff or not but, in the meantime, I will be seeking out my own psychiatrist to discuss medications for the anxiety and depression factors my psychologist noted (and boy were they high, he was stunned).

I now basically wait for the formal diagnosis papers which can take 6-8 weeks, give or take.

One thing I did not like about the place I went to is the psychologist was very much into "differentiating" the "types" of autism. For me he used the term "Aspergers" a lot which I don't like for many reasons and it generally is not a term autistic people use anymore (I especially didn't like that he called me an "Aspie" and called autism the "trendy phrase" - it was kind of weird). It's all just under ASD. and he eventually specifically described me as ASD level 1 which is in the DSM.

Now, as for the COST of everything, I have insurance through my parents, I am still under their plan. Going into this, I didn't know if my insurance would cover it at all. This was very much something where I was just gonna bite the bullet and do it for my own sake. As I said previously, they asked for my insurance right away and bc they moved ahead I assumed they accepted it (their website said they took my insurance as well but my insurance can be weird lmao). There was a $50 fee I had to pay up front that insurance would not cover (it was for testing materials). Without insurance, the whole thing came out to be over $3,000. WITH insurance, I will be paying about $1,100.

I am not sure if there is another way to go about getting a diagnosis. I am not sure if psychiatrists can do anything when it comes to this. I think psychiatrists can but you have to go to someone who specializes in ASd. My therapist recommended I look for a place that did neuropsychological evaluations because they will look at like ur whole brain basically (not literally tho lmao there was no tests like that) and if it wasn't ASD or ADHD they can suggest other things. so that is why I took the route I took!

But, yeah, that was my experience. I hope I laid it out all okay - if you have questions please feel free to ask, I can try to answer them but, fair warning, I might not have all the answers 😅

[vizthedatum]

I'm listening to Dr. Ramani's recent video about how being in a relationship with a narcissist steals your extraversion.

They probably will just think they had nothing to do with that. That I just "changed" like how they complained...

But I had lost several parts of myself. I was drained. I was physically and mentally ill. I was unloved, and I thought it was the best relationship I had. I married them because I had so much hope in *us* - I loved them so much. I wasn't myself. I was fighting to keep myself alive for years. I tried to heal every part of myself but preserve THAT relationship because I loved them.

I have my extraversion back now (and I'm an ambivert!). Almost a year out (as my friend reminds me). I tell people... I show people that I even look physically different now. I'm happier. I'm still crying all the time. Healing isn't linear. Some days are so hard. I've made a fuckton of social faux pas because I've been stabilizing.

I'm no longer trying to mold myself to fit into other people's lives. I want to do stuff on my own terms while finding healthier ways to support my loved ones. I want to tell people how I feel and have closure with people/concepts on my own terms. I want to choose myself over and over again. I want to be "uncool" if that means that I'm not dissociated.

It's so hard... because you'll see how many people are not aligned with you. Even the ones who are traumatized but not healing at your pace... you won't like them anymore, and it will be hard to tell them, but tackling your people-pleasing tendencies means you also need to tell them how you feel. It requires tact and so much strength. And even then, telling someone how you feel will only sometimes be taken well. Some people will outright reject you - but it's also for your own good. (I am figuring this out while unmasking autism and ADHD now too.)

You *will* disappoint people. You *will* find people who love and accept you when you can internalize and accept your inherent worth.

It is worth it to find yourself again. *I type this while being in love with my friends but wanting to sob because I am still upset about it all*

[monochromeheartbeat]

what do you think about the autistic brittany headcanon?

I think this is something that deserves a lot of thought and reflection, and I’m honestly not certain I have the best answer to it. Under the cut cause it gets long:

As an individual, I’ve had a pretty traumatic upbringing — one that at a very young age put me in a very untrusting dynamic with therapy that I won’t get into because it’s sad. And then my relationship with my adoptive mom was strained because she was studying psychology and did that thing you’re not supposed to do, which is to diagnose those close to you. With everything, founded or unfounded, based on a lot of struggles I was navigating balancing this growing up too fast and out of my control with desperately wanting to just be a kid, you know? And the support just. It didn’t exist for me in the way that was what I needed. Which was kindness and gentleness and patience.

So I have a hard time with the idea of head canons in general. I have a personal disdain for when people project their ideas of what they think of me onto me. It’s why I struggle with labels. I’m already a minority in so many ways — an orphan, adopted, mix-raced, Asian-American, 1st generation, unstable home, trauma/abuse, etc, etc. Discovering (through this particular fandom) that I was queer, I was like. Great, another box! (it's honestly okay - great even - now, but I was so afraid of losing what little I had when I realized it)

Don’t get me wrong, I believe mental health is SO important. I think I'm using mental health as an umbrella term here to include just general psychology terms, as I think autism is a learning/social disorder, not necessarily a mental health one. Idk, I'm really lacking in knowledge here. Still, diagnoses help with getting treatment or routines created and can really help improve quality of life. But autism specifically sounds like such a difficult thing to navigate, because autism is one of those diagnoses that can really restrict your personal freedoms because of prejudice against it (like whether or not you can gain citizenship in other countries). So I understand why a lot of people turn to self-diagnosis as an alternative.

But from my experiences with childhood, I am torn between having seen my parental figure diagnose me in an unprofessional capacity (and therefore concerns around self-diagnosis) and professionals harm me with good intentions but lack of care or tact when dealing with a child (thus a personal distrust of therapists that yes, I've worked on somewhat, and yes, I know better to ask for what I need than wait to be told).

The short of it is… I don’t think I’m qualified to tell you if this fictional character is autistic. I don’t know a lot about autism. I love that people identify with their favorite characters, and I think if that’s how you relate to that character, it’s a wonderful and special relationship you have with them. I think if she is autistic, she suffered in the sense that… canonically, Brittany never got the support from adult characters in the show other characters got. No one took her needs seriously. I didn’t really watch the season her parents were introduced (and I won’t get into my feelings about having been raised not being told I was Asian until later in life, the racism I experienced and didn't even understand, and how I feel in regards to the casting of Pierce Pierce), but from what I did watch and remember, her only support was really, truly, Santana. 

I love that Santana was her support system. I hate that she didn’t get explored with the depth and care other characters got. I hate that she was the butt of so many jokes. Yet, I loved Hemo for being so good at being so funny anyway. And I don’t know if we have enough information about her to determine if she was or wasn’t autistic. And I’m sorry I’m not more knowledgeable about autism in general. I know that it’s a more common topic of discussion than it was when I was more socially engaged on the internet a decade ago. My coworker talks to me often about his experiences, which is the only true source I have for autism information, but he's a new friend and I'm still learning a lot. But I hope I’ve answered this with as much respect and sensitivity as I can, because I don’t want to perpetuate any harm to a community that experiences a lot of stereotypes and misinformation.