#also i really like all the nonverbal communication these two got going on. i wish they had more actual conversations. but u can't win them-

[dearinglovebot]

Not really a question just wanted to say love your blog a whole lot!!

This may be a weird semi question but is it weird that I find the raptor/handler lady as great mutism/selective mutism/ disabled rep? Like to me what makes her fascinating is how she does not say a word and feels closer to her animals cause for me I feel more close to my animals then anyone else and shut down and go mute sometimes. Like the is cool as a villain because we can’t really read her. I know in general disabled folks are put as the villains but to me she’s not really a villain? Like I’d find her offensive if we didint see more of HER as the show goes on, I see her as like an anti hero, hero of her own story. Idk maybe I’m yapping about nothing but she’s been my fav human Jurassic villain and also a cool representation and it makes her more badass

aweee thank you ❤️❤️

this got long I’m sorry. TLDR; it’s never weird to find characters relatable. it’s beautiful. the handler is my girlfriend who I love dearly but, for me, she’s not someone I consider mutism *representation* quite yet. open to having s2 rock my world with her tragic backstory though

honestly, there’s layers to it in my eyes. it’s like: are flamboyant villains used to mock queerness? yeah. will I still say they served amongst my fellow gays? yes. do I think they’re good representation to the wider public? absolutely not.

i don’t think it’s weird at all to love her and feel kinship in her. i like what we’ve seen of her so far. she’s fascinating in how little we know about her or her motivations. I hope she continues to girlboss her way across the world and strike fear into the hearts of many. and i think a lot of us do tend to closely bond with our animals because they don’t put unrealistic expectations on us. that’s a very realistic aspect of her. my cat is my hashtag best friend 4 life. but I do also think there’s a difference between good representation and interesting characters that we like.

personally, I think the handler is a relatively unoffensive portrayal, but I wouldn’t consider her representation for mutism. for one, I genuinely haven’t heard any talk of them consulting any nonverbal people to respectfully portray her like they did with brooklyn’s limb difference. for two, does she accurately show the experience of mutism? her backstory is going to play into this, but in her current state, I’m meh. most people already assume I’m plotting their downfall because im a non-expressive (autistic) and silent bipoc but she genuinely is trying to kill people so (tbf i wish i could hunt people for sport too sometimes so maybe not THAT inaccurate). I think the strongest thing she has going for her representation wise is that she used body language to comfort the raptors instead of words. that ability to silently communicate with her pack felt real.

how they handle her in s2 might change my opinion, but rn I don’t see her as rep in the same way that, say, yasammy represents me as a lesbian or kenji represents me as a member of a diaspora. love that freaky woman but when I explain what it’s like to be me, I wouldn’t use her as an example is my basic thought process. I’ll never knock other nonverbal people’s thoughts cause we aren’t a monolith but *i* see representation as something made for us. yaz and sammy were handled so lovingly and thoughtfully and THATS what i want representation to mean (<- guy who can’t go 2 seconds without praising yasammy)

I would also like to lightly push back on the idea that verbal shutdowns are the same as mutism, though. being mute means that you speak rarely, if ever, on a constant basis. they’re distinct experiences, though some people (like me lol) will have both! the way I’d describe it is kind of like: verbal shutdowns are temporary breakdowns caused by high emotional stress. but being nonverbal is daily life. it might be physical, mental, or both but it’s not really something that changes without purposeful interventions. the experiences are relatable to each other, but they have their nuances

I DIGRESS! at the end of the day, there’s no authority on representation thought because that defeats the purpose of us all being unique people with our own opinions. if a character makes you feel seen, then that’s beautiful. keep loving them. don’t let anyone tell you it’s weird. our experiences shape how we relate to characters. the good, the bad, and the ugly. hell, you’re talking to the person who soapboxes about autistic claire everyday because I think she acts like one of us. she’s relatable to my experience so I’m gonna claim her all I want every day of the week. that’s the beauty of fiction

I hope this didn’t come off as shaming or superior in any way. I tried to emphasize personal opinion where I could but again I’m autistic. makes me sound more confrontational than intended online. I genuinely do not think it’s weird in any way. I mainly just hope s2 gives the nuance I’m looking for in her portrayal

[lunapwrites]

Monthly Reading - June

I completely neglected to post my May reading, though admittedly that one got a little personal (yes more than this one), so probably for the best lol. Either way, we're back at it again with my reading for this month, which... is a bit interesting, to tell you the honest truth.

First thing that jumps out at me here is the tarot cards: three of the more "negative" cups cards bookended by two strong intellectual cards. We're dealing with emotional turmoil this month, folks! But the presence and position of the King and Emperor is heartening - this is manageable, and we're going to keep it together.

So, on to the reading proper...

Let's start from the top, shall we? The first rune is Sowilo - the sun. It's indicating joy, success, and good health: a very positive rune, particularly when the most imminent struggle on the horizon is Beansgiving.

The next rune, appropriately enough, is Hagalaz - hail. It's indicating chaos and sudden life-changing transformation, entirely out of my control. Particularly one in which I am being forced to alter my approach to it. [Gestures at Bean, who is still stubbornly slamming that snooze button.] Yeah, uh. Noted.

Finally we have Elhaz - the elk - in the reversed position. Not really the best one to see flipped like this, in context, but not the worst. Normally Elhaz is a rune of protection and good luck. Reversed, however, it's a warning to be on my guard for potential threats and negative influences, particularly from directions I would not normally expect.

The cards, as I mentioned, are telling a story of some inner turmoil on my part, which makes sense given the whole... you know... Bean thing. But going into this in more detail, I really can't separate the King of Swords from the Emperor here because they're kind of the same picture. They're calling for cool logic, and a general masc presence that's almost definitely pointing to my partner, who very much embodies this image entirely. But we're also going to be continuing therapy, which is by nature a compassionate but logical process, so there's a bit of that here too.

Speaking of anxiety, let's take a look at these cups, shall we? Five: we're so fixated on the negatives we can't see the good in front of us. This is in the present position, so... [stares in "past due"] yeah. I'm being the whiniest little bitch right now actually, and having a miserable time. Fight me. Four: this is the depression light card - we're withdrawing from things, we're lacking energy, we're not ready to accept the good in life because we just need some time to wallow and take a long nap, damnit. Being in the future position, yeah I can see why I might want all naps and no socialization. But it is important to remember that people do require basic things like social contact and touching grass, so... hopefully that works out for us lol. Seven: hey remember that time when you said you were going to play this all by ear and not have any expectations? Hahahaha you liar. We still have some wishful thinking to deal with here. Now, that said: this is also a shattering of negative illusions, too. It's a neat little trick we call "reality" and you're about to get checked. In this particular position, the card is indicating this will be a useful tool for me to use one way or the other, likely to help drag myself out of my emotional blergh and connect with my family and friends.

Finally, we have the oracle cards, which are pointing more in that positive direction again (and reinforcing the fact that the Bad is pretty much all in my head.)

Inspire/Wren - the healing power of music cannot and should not be underestimated. Additionally, there's going to be a lot of nonverbal communication and practice with our intuition - makes sense, given that Bean can't just tell us with words what they need/want/feel. We gotta figure that out together.

Play/Monkey - get in bitches, we're healing our childhood traumas. [Points at therapy noted above, and at the entire concept of cycle breaking.] And, pretty obviously, we're being advised to embrace the silly with Bean. Live a little. Play.

And that's all! Overall, not a bad month ahead despite the fully expected and reasonable emotional turmoil and general upheaval, which one way or another will begin this week lol. Fingers crossed everything goes well - wish us luck!

[gh0stlymoth]

Local guy flabbergasted and confused that they are, in fact, not immune to the 2005 movie adaptation of a classic love story.

[parvuls]

fic: need seek no further

Jack shrugs. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

a disgustingly fluffy, plotless ficlet about how well jack knows bitty and how he perfected the skill of nonverbal communication through the force of sheer will. also, the frogs.

read on ao3

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Dex called Bitty one evening in early May, let Bitty shower him with hellos, and then stated, “We won the NCAA championship.” He said it matter-of-factly, like maybe Jack and Bitty hadn’t been there when it happened, like Jack hadn’t watched him cling to Bitty for a full minute after the stands had spilled onto the ice.

“You did,” Bitty replied, raising his eyes to meet Jack’s with confusion wrinkling between his brows. His phone was set on the kitchen island between them, Dex’s voice filling their kitchen through speaker phone while Bitty’s floured hands were busy kneading dough. Jack was keeping him company on another last-minute testing session for his rhubarb pie recipe, even though the last proof of his book had been approved by his editors over two weeks before. Jack was running out of team members to send leftovers to.

“And Whiskey got voted captain,” Dex continued.

Jack watched as Bitty squinted down at his phone. Bitty had spent half an hour on the phone with Whiskey the night of the banquet; he hadn’t disclosed the details of their conversation to Jack, but his face when he’d returned to their room, had sat down next to Jack on the bed and had leaned his forehead on Jack’s bicep for a long while -- Jack had seen that face before. Had known that expression meant pride.

“So we were talking about it just now,” there was the sound of more people whispering furiously in the background, and Jack thought he could maybe hear Chowder’s unsteady voice calling out, hey Bitty!, and only then he began contemplating the solid possibility that Dex may have been a little drunk. “And -- so we won last year, with you, and now we won again, and we wanna keep winning, right? So we gotta make sure to keep doing everything that’s working.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bitty said agreeably, faintly amused. It was obvious to Jack from his tone that Bitty, at least, had already realized Dex was a little drunk, but was only too happy to play along.

“‘Swawesome,” Dex said fervently, like Bitty had agreed to something very important. “So you see why Whiskey’s gotta learn to make a pie.”

That stopped Bitty in his tracks. Jack blinked, watched Bitty’s long fingers halt their motions in the dough, the pressure of his fingerprints leaving crescent grooves behind. “William Joseph, that doesn’t make a lick of sense,” he said, and narrowed his eyes at the screen of his phone like Dex could feel their weight on him through the line. But then he seemed to think it over again, and the pitch of his voice rose as he demanded, “Wait, are you sayin’ Whiskey’s willing to learn how to bake?”

“He says he’ll do it for the win,” Dex said, and Bitty gaped at the phone, then gaped at Jack, and with his cheeks pink and his eyes wide he exclaimed, “Of course I’ll do it!”, like there’d ever been any other option to consider.

Jack kept it to himself, but he had no doubt in his mind that there hadn’t been.

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Dex, Chowder and Nursey wait for them at the doorway of the Haus, broad shoulders wedged together in the narrow doorframe.

Bitty had said before they left home, “You don’t have to come, sweetpea,” and Jack had said, simply, “I want to,” and had meant it. It was only in the summer months that Jack had the privilege to see his friends whenever he wished to, and now that the Falconers were out of the playoffs -- well, Jack was feeling a little more withdrawn lately, even quieter than usual, but this felt like something he genuinely wanted to do with the time on his hands. There was also the fact that soon the frogs would graduate, and with them gone Jack would be too far removed to visit the Haus comfortably, even if Bitty still could.

Right now Jack could, and he wanted to, so Bitty and he got in Bitty’s car and drove the forty-five minutes down to Samwell, Bitty’s phone hooked through the aux and his hands tapping on the wheel to the beat. He was nervous, although Jack wasn’t sure exactly why -- only knew it was obvious in Bitty’s restless hands and the frequency he switched songs midway through. Jack reached out and placed his hand on Bitty’s thigh, squeezed, and let Bitty burn his nervous energy whatever way he deemed best.

“We did all the shopping!” Chowder announces as Jack and Bitty walk up the porch steps, and then immediately bounces forward and wraps Bitty in a hug. His long limbs envelope Bitty within them, and soon Jack’s dragged into their circle, too, feels Nursey’s arms fold around his shoulders and Dex’s tentative hand patting him on the back. It doesn’t overwhelm him like it could’ve, maybe, a year or two ago -- it just feels nice, familiar, welcoming. A display of affection he readily returns.

When the huddle breaks, the five of them shuffle through the door and head straight into the kitchen. It looks about the same as it has since Bitty took over it five years ago -- no longer just a room with a fridge full of beers and a broken down table, but a real kitchen, with Suzanne’s hand-sewn curtains and clear countertops and the oven that Jack is still irrationally fond of. Although it seems like it’s been revamped in the months since Jack has last seen it; the cupboards’ hinges are no longer busted, and there are actual shelves stacked along the walls. Jack assumes the likely suspect is Samwell Men’s Hockey current captain, and has to curb a revealing smile that would surely draw questions. It’s another unspoken team tradition, Jack thinks, recalling freshman Will Poindexter: no one leaves it entirely unchanged.

“Y’all are joining us for some baking lessons?” Bitty asks Nursey and Chowder, hand almost unconsciously drifting over the edge of the counters. He looks good there, really, looks right. He’s not the same as he was when he graduated and certainly not the same as when he first claimed this kitchen, but to Jack, Bitty would always look right in the sun streaming through the Haus’ dusty windows, puttering between pots and pans.

“Nah, C and I will get out of your hair for that, but Whiskey isn’t back yet so we’ve got some time. And anyway --” Nursey glances sideways at Dex and Chowder, fails at stifling a smile, “uh, the waffles heard you were coming today, Bits.”

“Going by their reaction, they’ve definitely missed you,” Dex says, arms crossed over his chest, his face serious but a single upwards quirk to the corner of his mouth. It could be a chirp at the waffles, maybe, but Jack is almost certain that it’s sincere nonetheless.

Bitty turns to the shopping bags spread across the counter and starts picking them apart, taking out the ingredients for inspection before setting them down with that same nervous energy, the one that rarely ever follows Bitty into his domain in the kitchen. Jack watches him smile at Dex, honest but jittery, and realizes what he should’ve already known -- how very important it is to Bitty that this goes perfectly.

“Oh, bless them, I’ve missed them too! I’ll tell them hello so we can get started right after,” Bitty says, setting down a bag of brown sugar and taking out a packet of butter from the bag. He looks -- momentarily disappointed, and Jack frowns, searches Bitty’s face. It’s probably only visible to Jack, who recognizes the subtle shift in Bitty’s jaw and the fleeting movement of his eyebrows, but still. He follows Bitty’s eyes down to his hands and to the butter in them, and surveys it for a moment, deep in thought.

“You’ve got two seconds to prepare yourself, bro,” Nursey warns, and then Bully, Hops and Louis descend loudly into the kitchen, flock around Bitty like ducklings. Bitty’s always had that effect on hockey players, on people, even before he got the C. It’s with intense fondness that Jack thinks it, knows the feeling intimately as someone who’s lucky enough to experience that affect every day. He can’t blame them for the way they beam down at Bitty, fight for his attention, laugh when he laughs at the rising volume of their clashing, simultaneous stories.

It’s a good opportunity if nothing else, though, so Jack shoulders his way between Bully and Louis, brushes two fingers over Bitty’s elbow to get his attention. When Bitty turns his head, Jack takes advantage of his height to lean in and say into Bitty’s ear, “Hey, bud, I’m stepping out for a moment.”

Bitty smiles at him, reaches up to stroke a hand down Jack’s cheek just warmly enough to be soothing, just quickly enough to be appropriate. “Yeah, of course. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, and thinks, it will be. He pauses, looks down threateningly at the waffles, and leans in to kiss Bitty's temple swiftly, before someone he can’t intimidate as easily as these sophomores could try fining him for it. The space he leaves between Bully and Louis closes as soon as he leaves their side, Bitty disappearing from sight behind their tall forms, but the sound of his cheerful laughter rings after Jack as he walks out of the kitchen and exits through the front door.

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When Jack comes back he has to open the door one-handed, the other one busy clutching the handles of a grocery bag. His cap is pulled down low, a protective measure from the crowd that swarmed the Stop and Shop on Pemberton, so it takes a few steps into the Haus’ hallway for him to notice Whiskey hovering in the kitchen doorway, apparently stopped right on his way out of it.

“Jack,” Whiskey looks surprised -- or maybe still mildly star-struck, Jack has always had trouble telling with his face. “You’re here. I haven’t seen you.”

“Got some stuff from the shop,” Jack raises the bag by way of explanation, adjusts his hat, and after a brief moment of stillness hunches his shoulders to bypass Whiskey into the kitchen.

Whiskey bends his neck to peer down into the bag as Jack passes. He looks somewhat horrified at what he finds, as much as Whiskey ever betrays his emotions -- a slight frown, a barely noticeable widening of his eyes. “We need more groceries for this thing?”

Jack shrugs, noncommittal. They don’t, really, but. “Eh. Bittle likes Cabot butter best.”

The frogs and waffles have moved to the den while Jack was out -- he can hear them now, Bully’s low voice and Chowder’s quick speech and Hops’ rolling laughter -- but Bitty must’ve heard Jack come in, because he appears next to Whiskey in the kitchen doorway. His gaze darts between the two of them before it lands on the bag hanging from Jack’s fingers, and Jack reaches in to pull out one stick of butter, holding it out so Bitty can see the brand. Bitty’s eyes light up when he realizes, go round and bright, and he declares, “Sweetpea, you shouldn’t have!”, in the tone that means he’s beyond pleased that Jack did.

“That's more butter,” Whiskey says, staring at Bitty and then at the butter already stacked on the counter from the frogs’ shopping trip, clearly bewildered.

Jack twists his body, turns his back to them to find an empty spot somewhere on the counter. “Cabot has a half percent more fat, and Bittle likes his crust flaky,” he explains absently while emptying the contents of the bag onto the spot he chose. It’s important to Bitty that this goes perfectly, and while Jack can’t control Whiskey's abilities in the kitchen, wouldn’t be able to fix baking mishaps if those occur, this is something he can do. Make sure Bitty has the best conditions to work in, grant him a little peace of mind.

When he turns back around Whiskey is gone, and it’s only Bitty standing behind him, his eyes twinkling and his lips parted slightly.

“What?” Jack asks, confused.

There’s a long stretch of silence while Bitty just looks at him. Jack’s rarely comfortable with intense scrutiny from others, but Bitty -- Bitty’s gaze is soft, and he looks at Jack like he’s something good, something to admire. It’s a look he gives Jack often, usually accompanied by the gentlest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the kindest of words. Sometimes Jack’s mind is slow to catch up, too stubborn to be convinced of his own worthiness, but this is the look Bitty gets when his emotions are broadcasted so loudly that even Jack’s mind has to pipe down and listen.

Bitty takes a few steps closer, grabs Jack’s palm between both his hands. “Marry me?” he asks breathily, with a smile curling at his lips.

Warmth flutters in Jack’s stomach at the words, and an answering smile grows on his own lips. The ring glints on Bitty’s finger whenever he moves his hands, is glinting now, where his fingers are curled around Jack’s in the sunny kitchen. It’s been a distraction many times in the past year, but each time Jack sees it he’s reminded of what Bitty and he have promised to each other. The future that is still to come.

There’s no one in the kitchen but them, and the Haus residents sound busy enough in the other room that no one would notice if Jack stole a lone moment. “Sorry, I can’t,” Jack deadpans, grabs Bitty by his hips and gathers him into his arms. His fingers slide over the soft fabric of Bitty’s clothes and find the gap between his top and his shorts, dipping inside to rub against Bitty’s warm skin. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m already engaged.”

“Leave him, then,” Bitty says without missing a beat. He tilts his head up to nudge Jack’s cheek with his nose, wraps his strong arms around Jack’s neck. His face is so close to Jack’s that Jack can count his pale eyelashes, can see the splotches of fading pink on his skin. He’s been spending a lot of time editing his cookbook on their balcony since springtime has arrived, and his body tans nicely but the bridge of his nose has been reddened and peeling for a while. “Run away with me.”

Jack can’t help the temptation, kisses Bitty’s right cheek and then his left one. “Sorry, bud.”

“Why ever not,” Bitty sighs, most dramatically, and uses his grip on Jack’s neck to lean his upper body backwards. “A man who knows his butters? You better believe I’m willing to fight for you, mister.”

It’s the sincerity in his voice that has heat prickling across Jack’s skin, raw pleasure squirming in his chest. It’s a futile battle, though, a battle Jack realized was lost when he dropped Bitty off at this very Haus after their very first summer together, longingly watched him skip up the stairs and thought, oh, I wanna marry him. “I can’t,” he tells Bitty quietly, pulls him closer so the words stay trapped between them, rough and intimate like a secret. “I love my fiancé too much.”

“Oh,” and Bitty flushes at this, red blossoming on the apples of his cheeks like he’s flattered -- like the ring around his finger hasn’t been there for a year, like Jack hasn’t taken to kissing it before kissing Bitty goodbye on nights he leaves for games; like Jack loving him too much to ever consider anyone else is still a novelty, a compliment, after all this time. “Well. Lucky him.”

Lucky me, Jack thinks, and bows his head to fit his mouth to Bitty’s in for a lingering sweet kiss.

[confused-stars]

I saw your tags for the Sign AU, and I can't stop thinking about the possible interrogation. Shigaraki is preparing himself for hours of grueling questions about locations, members, quirks, and plans. But then his favorite hero shows up and asks how he knows his sign name? It's been two hours and Shigaraki still doesn't understand why they are asking about this. He is confused. Aizawa is confused. And AFO has no idea about all the chaos a sign name has caused.

*clears throat* may i-

It must have been hours at this point. Tomura is sure, from how drained he feels and how tight his stomach is with hunger. They’ve offered him a sandwich, sure, but he wasn’t about to accept it. Especially since the handcuffs around his wrists were clearly created with him - or touch-based quirk users - specifically in mind: rather than hold his hands behind his back, or loosely in front, they force his palms together, fingers pressed against each other as if he’s praying, secured together with five sets of dual rings that wrap around his joints. It’s not uncomfortable, but it also leaves him just a little more helpless. If he wants to eat, someone will have to feed him, and he absolutely refuses to even entertain the notion.

Kurogiri is still out there. The League is still out there. They’ll come for him if only he waits long enough. They’ll find out where he is. He’s not being moved to Tartarus, he knows that much, because Sensei is there and they don’t want them close. 

He almost wishes they would move him. That they'd just give it up already. He hasn't said a word since they brought him in.

Well... that's not entirely true.

When All Might was here earlier, tired and skinny looking and... and pathetic, with no right to keep his head held high like that, and he called Tomura by a name that's not his (it's not, it's not, it's not), Tomura did snap at him to shut up. To 'fucking stop it'. He hated the kicked puppy look. the gentle words that felt like poison to Tomura's ears, because who does All Might think he is? Tomura Shigaraki is still a villain. Tenko Shimura is dead. When he spat that out, All Might's resolve hardened, and he began a more traditional interrogation. At that point, Tomura couldn't have answered even if he'd wanted to. He still can't speak, now. They obviously don't know that. It’s a weakness he’s not just going to admit to.

Tomura’s head jerks up when a set of steps actually stops outside the door. He shakes a loose strand of hair out of his face, hating that he can’t even brush them aside himself. Who is it this time? The detective with the lie detector quirk again? Or someone who can actually force Tomura to speak? How far are these heroes willing to go?

But the door opens, and it’s the one person Tomura can’t help but be shocked to see. Eraserhead.

Tired-looking as always, the scar underneath his eye a new addition from when Tomura last saw him in person. What’s he doing here? Tomura wishes he could ask. Instead, he just settles for a somewhat confused glare.

Eraserhead looks him up and down, expression unreadable. All underground heroes must have good poker faces, Tomura thinks. He wishes he had that ability. Tomura is not a good liar. He never needed to be.

“When’s the last time you had something to drink?” Eraserhead asks, hands moving to sign along, and, okay, is he here to play good cop? Playing off the begrudging respect Tomura has for him?

Tomura doesn’t move. He keeps glaring. Eraserhead sighs and approaches the table, dropping down in the chair opposite Tomura. He fumbles with a pouch on his belt for a moment, and eventually pulls out a juice box. It’s almost enough to make Tomura laugh at the absurdity - it’s the same brand Kurogiri buys. Eraserhead stabs the straw through the little hole on top and pushes it over on the table. Tomura looks down at the juice box, then up at him. He is thirsty. His throat is dry enough that swallowing hurts a little, and the sugar in the juice will definitely be helpful, and when the League comes to break him out, he’ll need to be in the best shape he can hope for. 

He sinks down in his seat the best he can, and stretches his head forward until he can catch the straw between his lips. It’s still humiliating, though better than someone holding it for him, and he looks anywhere but Eraserhead as he empties the juice box within seconds.

“Well, that’s a start.” Eraserhead slumps in his seat and sighs, sounding very world-weary. Tomura knows the man is only in his early thirties, but he seems to have been aging rapidly lately. That’s probably due to Tomura’s own actions. He wonders what Eraserhead sees when he looks at him. A victim to be saved, like All Might apparently thinks? Just a too skinny kid who is in over his head? Or is he actually smart enough to understand that Tomura doesn’t want, doesn’t need saving? That Tomura is the monster they should all be afraid of and he lives for it?

Maybe Eraserhead sees a little bit of both. Those eyes of his are very sharp. Tomura should have had the noumu take them, back at the USJ. Then his quirk wouldn’t have been a problem anymore either.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking,” Eraserhead tells him, voice dry as Compress’ favored liquor.

Tomura raises a brow at him. Shrugs. Looks away.

Eraserhead is silent for a little while. The seconds tick by, though Tomura can’t be sure that his count is correct. There’s no clock in here. No window, either, of course. He has no way of telling how long he’s really been here. If he ends up falling asleep eventually, he’ll be completely lost. Hopefully his rescue comes before that.

“... Shigaraki,” Eraserhead says finally, slowly, “If you wanted to talk to me right now, would you be able to?”

Oh. Oh, no. Tomura knows they're being watched, but he doesn’t know how the detective’s quirk works, if he can detect a lie when it’s just communicated through a gesture... but even if he can’t... Tomura nodding right now would kind of prove Eraserhead’s point, wouldn’t it? So he sighs and gives a jerky shake of his head.

Eraserhead nods, clearly Tomura just confirmed what he suspected. Because unlike most heroes, Eraserhead actually has the brains to back up his quirk and fighting skills. "Detective, I'm going to need the key to those cuffs."

There's a crackle from the speaker in the corner of the room. "That doesn't seem like a wise idea."

Ah, arguing right in front of him. Tomura smiles lazily, even though he hates having his face exposed like this. They took Father and the others, of course. He's going to have to find them before they leave.

"I'll erase his quirk if he tries anything. You want him to communicate, don't you?" Eraserhead asks, a tad snappy.

There's a long pause, then the door opens and the detective steps through. He doesn't take his eyes off of Tomura, even as he hands Eraserhead a single, tiny key. Tomura returns his gaze with an outward calm that he's not feeling at all. He can't make them go back on this decision, he wants so desperately to have his hands free so he can scratch that incessant itch that's been growing worse and worse with each passing minute.

"You're going to let me take these off you without trying anything, right?" Eraserhead asks. They have no replacement cuffs, but those would be a farce anyway, wouldn't they? And if they want Tomura to sign, he'll need greater range than a standard set of them would allow him. He rolls his eyes and nods, presenting his folded hands to the hero. The detective watches for another moment or two, then steps back out, undoubtedly to continue observing.

It takes a little fumbling on Eraserhead's part to get the cuffs off, with all their little moving pieces, and he's either being very careful so he won't hurt himself on accident, or, less likely, so he won't hurt Tomura. Tomura's own eyes drift to his elbow and he wonders about the massive scar that must be hidden underneath that sleeve.

Finally, his hands are free, and gently glowing red eyes turn to his face.

Tomura ignores him for the time being in order to scratch at his neck, deep and thorough until he tears skin.

Eraserhead makes an aborted movement, as if to stop him, but then seems to change his mind, fist clenched atop the table. Good. If he wants Tomura coherent, he'll need to let him fight off the onset of another episode that's been looming for a while.

"Did All for One teach you sign language because of your nonverbal phases?" Eraserhead asks. It makes Tomura very aware of the fact that he doesn't usually do interrogations. This is none of the usual bullshit, talking around the point for ages. This is blunt and straight to the point.

Tomura gives a headshake.

Eraserhead waits, expectant.

Tomura thinks the hero is lucky he's bored and his is an innocent line of questioning and he actually respects Eraserhead. That's why he pulls his hand away from his neck and signs 'Sensei doesn't speak sign.'

"Who taught you, then?" Immediate, no hesitation. Why does he want to know this, of all things? Literally anything else would be more important. He may as well be asking how Tomura got so proficient at darts.

He sighs, and spells it out. 'K-U-R-O-G-I-R-I'

Eraserhead's brows draw together. "He taught you things? How long has he been around?"

Tomura presses his lips together and glares. Like hell is he giving them anything on the rest of the League. Especially Kurogiri.

The hero sighs. "Look, kid." Tomura scoffs.

"... Shigaraki. Back at the USJ, you used a name for me that's different from my official hero name. It's a name very few people know."

Now it's Tomura's turn to frown. He knows what the separate signs of Eraserhead's name mean, of course, and he's often thought they were odd, but seeing as his own sign name is also anything but villainous he didn't think he had room to judge.

'Your sign name?' he asks, 'Eraserhead?'

"No." The hero shakes his head and makes a series of signs. "Eraserhead." He then repeats the signs Tomura just used. "Shouta."

Oh. Well, that's awkward. Tomura gets the entirely absurd urge to apologize.

Having his sign name used by an enemy who very nearly killed him must be pretty uncomfortable for Eraser. Tomura would never want his enemies to know his own. It's private, and it was a gift that Kurogiri gave him. Even the rest of the League doesn't know it, they only know the one Tomura made up for himself, reusing the name of his quirk for it.

'Not many people know?' Tomura questions.

Eraserhead huffs. "Do I look like the kind of person who goes around sharing information like that?" Probably not, no.

Tomura nods. 'That's why you're here?'

"There's a lot that's odd about you, ki- Shigaraki. A lot that doesn't add up. This, in particular, is something that's been causing me some problems."

Oh.

Oh. Tomura can't help the laugh that breaks out of him, his voice returning only for the giggles that shake his shoulders. Eraserhead thought one of his trusted few had betrayed him. Had given the information to Tomura. That's too good. He almost wants to make him keep believing it. Or even tell him a lie, but, again, the detective is on the other side of the two-way mirror.

"I'm glad this is funny to you," Eraserhead says dryly, "Care to let me in on the joke?"

Tomura is still giggling when he signs, and maybe that's why he makes the mistake.

'Kurogiri taught me,' he says, 'But good to know I created some mistrust among you.'

Eraserhead is frozen in his seat. Even his quirk is inactive now, as Tomura suddenly realizes. He's held out pretty long. His eyes have got to hurt. Maybe Tomura can make him overextend himself. But there's too many guns nearby. Tranquilizers, no doubt. He wouldn't get very far, even if a kill or two would be satisfying.

'Can I have another juice box?' he asks, just to be difficult.

Eraserhead jerks out of his stupor. "Who... who did you say taught you?"

Did Tomura use Kurogiri's sign name on accident? Huh.

'K-U-R-O-G-I-R-I. Sign name: Kurogiri.' His hands form 'fluffy' and 'cloud' like they have a hundred thousand times. It's a cutesy name for someone who is not cutesy at all. But so is 'Dust Bunny' and so is 'Sleepy Cat'.

Eraserhead takes a shaky breath. His fingers are trembling when he signs 'Fluffy Cloud' himself. "Oboro," he says, "That's... what that... who that name belongs to. Shirakumo Oboro." He looks like he's very far away, but at the same time couldn't be more in the moment. He's pale, but his eyes are focused and dark. "Shigaraki. Tell me about Kurogiri."

It's in that moment that the door gets blown into pieces by a blast of blue flames.

And the shouting and running and destruction that follow don't really give them much more room for idle chit-chat.

[geekys-corner]

Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family. 

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

[younghopeproductions]

Trigger warning of abuse and I made the same thing in my ace attorney amino. I made a post that’s my amino account links and my ace attorney account is linked with it when you check the profile.

This shows some potential questions autism related questions my Apollo may get eventually.

And even if no one asks any of these, the answers will be there so people can understand Apollo more.

And I drew a picture of Apollo, sorry that it sucks.

This takes place somewhere before Turnabout Serenade, but after Turnabout Trump and somewhere between Turnabout Corner

1:What do you love about Autism?

I don’t really like that I have autism

2:How did you learn you were autistic?

When I came back to the states on my 5th birthday, CPS took me to a psychiatrist when I didn’t talk and was later diagnosed with Asperger’s

3:How did people react to the diagnosis?The adults that knew always told people that I was about to interact with eventually, like my teachers, foster families, and classmates and I basically learned to tell strangers I’m autistic from that.

4:Any special interests?

I have a lot, but my main special interests are reading(usually whatever I get my hands on), manga, art, anime, music, some board games(mainly checkers and chess)astrology, animals, and some video games, mainly Nintendo(mainly Pokémon, Splatoon, Mario, Super Smash Bros., and I’m starting to consider trying Animal Crossing, Legend of Zelda, and Cooking Mama)

5:Are there any support systems to help help you?

If you mean untrained people that support me, my two best friends, Klavier Gavin and Clay Terran and I live with Klavier’s brother and my boss, Kristoph. If not, I dunno what you mean.

6:I haven’t really researched that stuff except Autism Speaks…which made me more insecure..which is why I stopped researching on autism and autism charities

7:What are your stims?

Rubbing my wrists, fiddling with my bracelet, pressing my finger on my forehead, cracking my fingers, chewing the inside of my cheeks, hair pulling, bouncing my leg when I’m sitting, hand flapping(though it’s my rare stims), I might be forgetting some.

8:Do you have any support in your family?I don’t have any that appears to be accepting except my half sister Trucy(who most likely doesn’t know)

9:Do you have a schedule? If so, what’s your current schedule?

((Though if explaining this to a person in this time line, he doesnt mention the beatings))(Majority of time)I don’t have much of a sleep schedule, before breakfast, I always clean the house, wash dishes, feed and brush Vongole, help Mr Gavin get ready for the day, getting my beating from Mr Gavin, prepare Mr Gavin’s breakfast, 2nd beating, wash dishes, clean the clothes, water Mr Gavin’s flower bed, 2 minute cold shower(Mr Gavin’s orders, shower minute limit is 4), daily texts to Clay and Klavier, 3rd beating, go to law firm for work, 4th beating, do paperwork, occasionally give law advice, follow Kristoph’s orders, 5th beating, make/pick up Mr Gavin’s lunch, 6th beating, clean law firm, close law firm for the day, run any other errands after closing(mainly other jobs like babysitting, yard work, pet walking, being a waiter, and occasional housekeeper), leave from those jobs when done, do Mr Gavin’s errands like getting groceries, come home, 7th beating, put away groceries, feed Vongole, make Mr Gavin’s dinner,(sometimes) have only meal(usually half a slice of bread), 8th beating, wash dishes, clean house, water flower bed, 9th beating, 2 minute cold shower, 10th and final scheduled beating.(There might be no meals, additional beatings and/or other wounds as punishment if necessary)

10:How do you communicate?

I’m able to talk, but I’m not good with talking to strangers. If I’m nonverbal, I text, write, and sign, butI’m not good with talking to others, except people I know very well, I’m worse with phone calls, have a lot of anxiety in general, and I sometimes go nonverbal, usually during/after a meltdown or sensory overload, and when nonverbal, I can communicate via sign language, text, or writing.

11:What’s your job/occupation and do you get help?

I’m a lawyer, but I also take part time jobs like babysitting or being a waiter and not really.

12:What is your wish and do you think it’ll happen?

Someday I hope I’ll be good enough for a decent life and realistically, no.

13:What’s something you don’t like people say about autistic people?

I hate it when people say all autistic people are stupid. I know I am stupid, but most others aren’t.

14:What’s a myth about autism you know and how do you know if it isn’t true?

Vaccines don’t cause autism. I was unable to get vaccinated until I got back to the States due to Khura’in not having many vaccines at the time I was there and lack of health insurance and was diagnosed with autism before getting vaccinated.

15:What can’t you live without?

If you mean figuratively, I don’t want to lose Clay, Klavier, and/or Trucy

16:What autistic symbol do you prefer?

I prefer the infinity symbol over the puzzle piece, dunno why, looks cleaner?

17:What’s your favorite book involving autism?

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon

18:What languages do you know?

I lost count, but the languages I use most is English, Spanish, French, Japanese, Chinese, Italian, German, Greek, Borginian, and Khurainese.

19:How do you deal with meltdowns?

I…don’t have a way to deal with meltdowns, but whenever Klavier and Clay is around, they comfort me

20:What autistic person/people are you fond of?

Albert Einstein and Satoshi Tajiri (The creator of Pokémon!)

21:Is there something about autism or it’s portrayal in any you don’t understand?

I don’t know why one month is dedicated to autism. Autism doesn’t happen or gets diagnosed only in April. Actually, I don’t understand why other topics have their own months if it also happens on more than one month, like LGBTQ+ only being super well known in June. I’d like to know why.

22:What does acceptance mean to you, whether it’s about autism or anything else?

Acceptance to me means willing to learn about autism or anything else and to not insult them without getting to know them first.

[nonbinary-octopus]

Not Just the Two of Us Chapter 2: Making Plans

~~~~~

Chapter 1: Confession

[Masterpost]

[More of my writing]

Wordcount: 1.3 K

~~~~~

Roman thought about what Logan had said all day. And, he had to admit, he liked the idea more and more every minute. But, there was still one problem left.

“How should I do it?”

“Do what?” Logan asked without looking up from his book.

“Ask Virgil out.” Roman dropped his shirt into the hamper and his jeans on the closet floor, replacing them with the soft pajamas that made for good snuggles. “I want to do it right.”

Logan was quiet for a bit, but it was a considering silence, not a returned-to-his-book silence. When Roman came over, Logan put a bookmark in, setting his book in his lap. “Do you remember how I initially told you of my feelings for you?”

Roman sat at Logan’s feet, perched on the side of the bed. “You were very blunt,” he recalled. “I don’t recall the exact words, but you said that you were attracted to me and wanted to kiss my face.”

Logan nodded. “Although I have had a few years practice since then in showing my love, it has mainly been in nonverbal forms, and I have not had any more experience in the initial confession,” he said. “Thus, I am likely not the best person to ask for advice.”

Roman huffed. “Okay, fair. I guess I’ll wing it. I just…” He sighed, flopping backward onto the mattress. “What if he takes it the wrong way?”

“Would you like to do a round of ‘best, worst, most likely’?” Logan offered kindly. Roman nodded, turning and squirming up on the bed to lie beside him. “What’s the best possible result of you telling Virgil of your crush on him?”

“He doesn’t take it the wrong way,” Roman started hesitantly, fingering the blanket beneath him. “In fact… in fact, it turns out that he likes me back. We start dating. The three of us are very happy together, and there are never any complications from me dating Virgil. Neither of you are ever jealous over me, and I don’t feel guilty about making you share, or selfish for wanting to have two boyfriends.”

Logan dropped his hand down, running it fondly through Roman’s hair. “That’s good,” he said. “How likely does that outcome seem, on a scale from one to ten?”

“Mmmm…” Roman picked at the blanket. “Maybe a two? Tops. Probably more like a one, one and a half.”

“Alright. What’s the worst possible result?”

Roman shuddered. “He’s offended. Not only does he not want to date me, it turns out that he’s been secretly homophobic this whole time, and the only reason he never said anything was because I didn’t ever make a pass at him. He cuts off all communication and never speaks to me again. Also, he tells Patton that I’m a terrible, awful person who tried to commit adultery with him, and Patton gives me a disappointed look every time he sees me for the rest of my life, and also never speaks to me again, ever.”

“Yikes,” Logan said, his voice carefully level. He continued to stroke Roman’s hair. “And how likely do you think that is?”

Roman made a face. But he had to be honest about it. “Zero point five,” he admitted, turning his face down into the mattress for a moment. “If I leave out the homophobia, which I probably should, cause that doesn’t sound like Virgil, it goes up a bit, though. Maybe a one, but only just.” He paused. “Actually, no. Patton thinks ‘adultery’ is another word for ‘adulting’. Three quarters.”

Logan chuckled. “And what’s the most likely result?” he prompted.

Roman paused.

“Roman?”

“I’m not sure.” Roman pushed himself up on his elbows, dislodging Logan’s hand from his hair. “Either he gets uncomfortable and kinda laughs it off, not quite believing that I actually like him, or he takes it seriously and lets me down gently. Either way, it hurts, and I cry about it, but not in front of him, because I don’t want him to feel guilty. It’s not his fault I’ve got these feelings. But then I can do the closure thing you said, and move on.”

“Alright. And how likely?”

“Probably a seven or an eight?”

“Okay. How do you feel?”

“I feel—” Roman started, then paused to take stock of how he actually felt. “I feel okay,” he decided.

“Good.”

“How about you? Best, worst, most likely?”

Logan considered. “I agree with your best-case scenario,” he said. “And I would give it a similar rating. However, were I to make a few minor edits, so that the negative feelings of jealousy, guilt, and selfishness were not entirely absent, but were rather present but effectively managed without difficulty, I would rate it higher. A three or four, at least. Obviously, however, that is no longer the absolute best-case scenario.” Logan paused for a moment in case Roman wished to say something, but Roman was quiet, so he continued. “Given what I know of the natures of our friends, I do not believe that what you described as worst-case is even possible. Rather, I think the worst case scenario is that Virgil disengages before we are fully able to explain the situation, and believes you to be attempting to cheat on me until we have a chance to explain otherwise.”

“How likely is that?” Roman asked, voice tight.

“One. At most.”

Roman nodded, unable to prompt Logan on the last question. Logan continued anyway.

“As for the most likely outcome, I am also uncertain between two possibilities. In either, Virgil listens and does his best to understand, though it is a lot to take in. This is where it diverges. The first possibility is that Virgil agrees to give it a try, and goes out on a date with you. We proceed from there. Alternatively, Virgil decides either that he would not like to be in a polyamorous relationship, or that he would not like to be in a romantic relationship with you. Or, possibly, both together. He informs you of this with as much tact as he can manage, because he is your friend and he does not wish to hurt you. Then, although it does hurt, you are able to put your crush behind you and move on. Things may be somewhat awkward for a time, but this does not do permanent damage to your friendship.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “Unfortunately, as you know, I am not very skilled in knowing how others feel, so I cannot say which is more likely. However, I would give either of these a seven or an eight.”

Roman nodded shakily. “Y-yeah. Okay.” He tried a smile. “That helps.”

How do you feel?” Logan queried again.

“Good?” Roman nodded, half to himself. “Yeah. I feel good. Almost confident. I think I can do it.”

Logan smiled. “Good.” Leaning in, he kissed Roman on the forehead. “Tomorrow, we can make plans to further reduce the chances of the negative outcomes, if you’d like.”

Roman nodded. “I don’t think mine’ll happen anyway,” he said. “But we should make sure we do it somewhere we won’t get interrupted, and that Virgil’s comfortable first. I really don’t wanna spook him, or only get halfway through the explanation.”

Logan nodded agreement. “Tonight, however, how about you come under these covers with me, and we go to sleep?”

Roman chuckled, shifting around and pulling the blankets back. “Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.” Logan moved his book to the nightstand, and set his glasses on top of it. Roman hit the lights, then finished getting under the covers. Logan lay down beside him, and they took a few moments to snuggle up comfortably around each other. Logan tucked Roman’s head under his chin in an inversion of their standing hugs.

Roman relaxed into it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~~~

Chapter 3: Confession, Take Two: Asking Virgil Out

[ambersky0319]

If you're sure about more prompts, then I have another Loceit one since I've been binge reading them non-stop 💙💛 One too many wrong words -Robot, Unfeeling, Doesn't care- and Logan finally breaks down. He has a panic attack, one that no one helps him with, and suddenly he's non-verbal. Its not a choice he makes, it's a stress-induced side effect that he can't fix himself. The others think that it's a choice. He talks to Thomas through something like a notepad. (Part One)

Eventually he has another attack but this time someone helps him through it, but he can’t tell who as he lost his glasses somehow. Afterwards, Deceit starts trying to help. Either by getting the others attention to help them see Logan, or maybe helps him with his work, or helps him be distracted when he gets too stressed. (Part Two: Wow this is long, sorry) 

Maybe after months of non-verbal speaking, he falls in love with Deceit. He either finds his voice to tell him or writes it down somewhere for him to find on accident. Deceit reciprocates and tells him that he helped that second time. You can do purposeful unsympathetic Sides or not, that’s your choice. (All done. I hope you like it ❤️) 

———–

I loved writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it!!! This was such a fantastic idea!!

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Morally gray/unsympathetic sides (up to interpretation really but leaning heavily towards unsympathetic), panic attacks, Logan angst, overwhelming stress on a character, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Masterpost 

—————————–

Logan thought that he knew what caused panic attacks. He thought he knew how to stop them, or at least make them more bearable, too. But he had never actually experienced a panic attack before. All of his methods that had helped the others he discovered through research and helping them find the best way to get through their attacks.

While filming one video, however, things had gone way too far.

Logan admittedly doesn’t remember much of what led up to their dispute. Mostly numerous jabs at him, Logan guessed. But he could feel his chest starting to tighten, and Logan started lashing out a bit more with little thought as insult after insult was spat between him, Roman, and Virgil.

He doesn’t even remember now what had caused the attack. All Logan knew was that he was having one.

Logan sunk out immediately upon realizing that he was panicking, rising up into his room on unsteady legs. He was able to reach his door to lock it when they finally gave out on him and he collapsed, his breaths uneven and short. Logan squeezed his eyes together, leaning against his door and trying desperately to catch his breath.

Any technique he knew to help left his thoughts. He was failing and failing to get his breathing under control as he tucked his legs close to his chest, ducking his head to hide it behind them. He couldn’t feel anything yet he could feel everything, everything was louder too, but it was all a buzz. He didn’t know what to do. What could he do? Make sure no one saw him like this.

They would hate him, wouldn’t they? Maybe think he was faking, or copying Virgil. Because Logan didn’t feel emotions, right? How could Logic ever feel anything? Logic didn’t feel things. Logic provided information, sound reasoning, and a way to ground oneself. Logic didn’t have emotion tied to it. Logic never did.

So why was Logan unable to just pull himself out of this?

He stayed there, curled up by the door for what felt like hundreds of hours. According to the clock, though, it had been only about thirty-five minutes. Logan took deep breaths, his throat felt sore and his eyes burned as he wiped away tears. He didn’t have the energy to go out and see if they were still recording, or if everyone had just decided to end the shoot early. He could hear Patton and Roman bantering cheerfully from upstairs, and he sighed shakily.

Logan forced himself away from the door. His head felt as though it were throbbing, had he hit it on accident? He might’ve. He walked on legs that felt like jello and he felt physically exhausted. So, Logan did the only thing he thought he could manage and even tolerate.

He climbed into bed and fell into a restless sleep.

Logan flinched as someone knocked far too loudly on his door. He tried to respond, about to snap at whoever for waking him up. But nothing came out other than a hoarse, unintelligible sound. Logan frowned, rubbing his eyes roughly and grabbing his glasses. Maybe this was just a side effect of him having a panic attack. He knew Roman sometimes went nonverbal after particularly bad ones himself. He hoped it was temporary, much like the princely side.

Logan was almost completely out of bed when the person just walked away, and Logan frowned as he listened to their footsteps fade down the hall. He walked to the door and opened it, looking out and grimacing at how blinding everything was. But no one was there.

A note and what he assumed was dinner was at the foot of his door though, so he picked both up and went back into his room.

The note was from Patton, briefly apologizing for how Roman and Virgil acted but also saying how Logan should apologize too. Logan frowned at that before continuing to read. The rest was just a list of things that still needed to get done for the video, specifically more of Logan’s parts.

Logan set the note aside so he could focus on the leftovers Patton had brought him, opting to worry about the video later.

Logan going nonverbal, however, was not temporary.

No. It lasted far longer than any of the other sides had ever gone. And Logan knew it wasn’t by choice. So many times in the following month did he want to snap at someone or easily defend himself when the others made jokes about him. They hurt, after all. But he would just go ignored.

The others thought Logan had done this voluntarily. He didn’t tell them about the panic attack out of fear of being judged or ridiculed(he knew he was jumping to conclusions but he couldn’t stop thinking of all the things that could go wrong). So he endured it, turning to pen and paper to communicate. It was easier that way.

Logan stopped trying to defend himself altogether. And once that happened, the work started piling up. Suddenly, Logan was tasked with editing scripts, scheduling, keeping Thomas on track and not distracted(how he was supposed to do that when the others kept distracting Thomas themselves he did not know, but the blame was constantly pinned on him anyway), participating in the filming of videos, and editing said videos. All this work that the others just kind of shoved onto him. He couldn’t say no. They just ignored when he would try and write a response, saying he took too long and could’ve already started.

So, Logan had given up on fighting them.

He almost did become the robot he was so often compared to. He almost did stop caring. But then Patton would scold him for not putting enough heart into Thomas’s work, or Roman would say it’s not creative enough, or Virgil would claim it was too risky and he should start over. And Logan just grew more and more frustrated. He wasn’t getting better. He wanted so badly to get better, but he also wanted to stay their friend, he still wanted to have a seat at the metaphorical table.

It wasn’t much of a surprise to Logan when he slipped into another panic attack. It was after Roman had come in for the fifth time claiming Logan hadn’t done well with the most recent script’s edit, and that he should start over. He had ‘thanked’ Logan and called him 'their editing machine’ which just frustrated Logan even more as he was trying to work on a good time for Thomas to go to the doctors.

His door slammed closed, and Logan could feel the tightness in his chest and he found it hard to swallow. He pushed himself from his desk and stumbled slightly out of his chair to get to the base of his bed. He intended to sit on it but ended up collapsing just before he reached it. Logan didn’t care as he curled up, covering his mouth.

I’ll be alright. This is fine. I can do this. He thought. After this is over I can get back to work. I can finish that fucking script finally.

But what if Roman came in again? What if Patton or Virgil found something wrong with it instead? What if they had other ideas and asked Logan to somehow put them in, forcing Logan to rewrite the script? What if he just passes out here and the others thought he was wasting time? What if they got mad at him over this?

He choked out a sob and it hurt to even breathe, he wished he couldn’t, wished that when having a panic attack he could just stop.

Something had fallen beside Logan, or maybe had moved there itself? Logan couldn’t tell. He couldn’t feel his glasses on his face. Had he taken them off? But the thing moved again, and Logan couldn’t make them out through his tears or his terrible eyesight.

He did make out their voice, though.

“-an. I want you to do as I say, okay? It’s going to help you, I promise. You can hear me, right?”

Logan tried to follow the voice, keep up with it, and tried to let that be the only thing he focused on. He nodded slightly, inhaling sharply. The side made some sort of relieved noise.

They started to guide Logan through an exercise to help ground him, first helping with his breathing and then asking various yes or no questions. Logan would tap their hand in certain patterns and having to remember them helped him calm down as the other side asked him things in a soft and soothing voice.

Eventually, Logan had just passed out, his thoughts a low buzz as the exhaustion once again forced him asleep. When Logan woke up, his glasses we’re on the nightstand with a glass of water and a note saying he hoped Logan would feel better after some rest. The side hadn’t left any name, though.

Logan didn’t get to work immediately, he tried to unwind a bit so he didn’t have another panic attack so soon. He grabbed one of his favorite books, a greek mythology book from when Thomas was younger, and he piled most of his pillows and blankets into one corner of his bed so he could curl up and read comfortably. It was late, around 12 am (how long he’d been out he didn’t know, he found that he didn’t really care) and so Logan didn’t fear any of the others storming in to shove more work onto him or to scold him for not using his time wisely.

The next few days went by just the same as before. Except now, much to almost everyone’s displeasure(Logan really didn’t mind), Deceit was hanging around. He didn’t say why exactly but demanded to partake more in videos. The arc of the series was heading in a direction where Deceit was needed anyway, so the others couldn’t exactly argue against it.

Logan was pretty happy Deceit was around more now. Because Deceit made an effort to include Logan in discussions. When the others tried to brush Logan off, he’d momentarily silence them so Logan could share his own thoughts in videos, which the others had to at least evaluate.

One day Deceit knocked on Logan’s door before opening it a bit, poking his head in and when Logan smiled at him slightly, he took that as a sign he was allowed inside. Another thing Logan liked about Deceit- Deceit was patient and would wait for Logan to respond and didn’t just barge inside his room whenever he felt like it.

Logan had returned to the third video he was editing, his fingers hurt a bit from staying in the same position for almost days now but he was so close to happy done by their release dates. Then maybe Patton would get off his back for being unable to keep Thomas motivated and the fans happy.

Deceit settled himself on the edge of Logan’s bed. “What might our fair nerd be working on tonight?” Deceit asked, watching Logan over his shoulder. Logan glanced up at a list pinned to the shelf next to his computer and then pointed to it. Deceit squinted to read it better, and Logan didn’t see him frown.

He could hear the frown in his voice though. “You’re editing the season finale for Sanders Sides yourself?” Logan shrugged, and Deceit continued to read the list. There were still two more things on the list that would take a long time to finish, a few hours each at least. It was almost dinner.

“Do you want me to take on these last two scripts for you?”

Logan frowned, stopping where he was on the video and turning to look at Deceit, a puzzled expression on his face. “You’ve been working all day, Lo. It’s the least that I can do.”

Logan bit his lip. He grabbed his notepad and pen and quickly wrote something before handing it to Deceit.

Are you sure?

Deceit smiled gently and nodded. “Certainly.”

Logan relaxed slightly, though still looked hesitant as he grabbed the two scripts that still needed editing and passed them to the deceitful side. Deceit summoned his own laptop and got to work without any complaints.

Logan obviously finished editing the video before Deceit was even halfway done with editing his first script. He reached to take the second one instead, but Deceit grabbed his wrist gently and shook his head.

“Why don’t you get some dinner, and then maybe watch a documentary or something? You’ve done some great work already today and deserve to relax a bit.”

Logan almost fought against Deceit’s words, but his head hurt from listening to the loud voices of the others all day and his eyes stung from the light of the computer. Deceit watched as Logan silently agreed and left to go get some pizza from downstairs.

This went on for a long time. And Logan found himself enjoying the deceitful side’s company. He loved listening to Deceit talk about psychology or the different loopholes you could use in court, and Logan found himself becoming less and less stressed when Deceit was around. They split up the work the others pushed onto Logan and not only got done faster but also induced less stress on either of them.

Even when things did become too much for Logan, though, Deceit was always there, holding one of Logan’s favorite movies or a new documentary or offering a massage. Sometimes Deceit would read to Logan as Logan tried some low-stress activities like drawing.

It had been roughly half a year since Deceit started spending so much time with him. And that’s when it clicked with Logan concerning his new and originally annoying emotions.

He really, really liked Deceit.

However, right now was not the time to have this realization. Not when Deceit had his arms around Logan, holding him close as they rewatched Round Planet for the twentieth time. Logan tried not to ruin the calm atmosphere by shifting at all, though he seemed to have screwed that up because Deceit pulled away from him slightly.

“Lo, you alright?”

Logan nodded on instinct and he could practically see Deceit’s frown without even turning around.

“Logan…”

Logan bit his lip before sighing slightly and turning in Deceit’s arms. Deceit’s arms dropped from his middle to settle at Logan’s waist, and Logan couldn’t help but think about how perfect Deceit’s hands felt there.

God, I’m pathetic.

Deceit tilted his head at Logan before reaching for the logical side’s notepad and pen, passing it to him and pairing their show. “What’s on your mind?”

Logan accepted both of the objects held out to him. He glanced from the notepad to Deceit’s monochromatic eyes then back to the pad, worrying at his bottom lip slightly. Deceit just waited quietly, letting Logan take his time to think through what he wanted to write.

Logan wrote something down multiple times, before borrowing his brow and shaking his head, tearing the paper and coupling it before tossing it to the trash can. It wasn’t until the fourth note did he finally hand Deceit the notepad, his cheeks and ears flushed a dark red.

I think I might really, really like you.

Deceit didn’t dare get his hopes up, but he could definitely feel his heart skip a few beats as he thought of the implications of Logan’s words.

“Just so I don’t misinterpret,” Deceit began, looking up from the paper in his hand. “You mean romantically, right? You like me romantically?”

Logan groaned slightly, hiding his face in his hands as he only grew darker. Deceit could imagine him saying to shut up or possibly calling it stupid. But he nodded behind his hands.

Deceit smiled brightly, it still felt foreign to him to smile like this and was a rare sight only Logan ever got to see. Deceit gently pried Logan’s hands away from his face and used another one of his hands to tilt Logan’s chin up.

“I like you too, Logan. I like you a lot.”

Logan smiled almost shyly as he shuffled closer to Deceit and pulled him into a proper hug, burying his warm face against the scales on Deceit’s neck. Deceit laughed, soft and fond, as he held Logan close again and he pressed the gentlest of kisses to Logan’s temple.

A few minutes passed by like that, holding one another close in comfortable silence. But then Deceit broke it with a whisper.

“I have something to tell you, Lo.”

Logan pulled his head from Deceit’s neck, tilting his head.

“You remember your second panic attack, the one you said you don’t know who helped you?”

Logan thought back to it before nodding. In reality, he didn’t remember much about it.

“I was the one who helped.” Deceit rubbed the back of his neck slightly. He smiled softly at Logan as Logan processed what he was saying.

Logan’s expression changed from mild concern to delight in seconds though, and he pulled Deceit closer, almost connecting their lips without thinking. But then he froze, drawing back slightly and he held Deceit’s gaze.

Deceit laughed slightly, breath fanning over Logan’s face before nodding and leaning closer himself, but he let Logan control the kiss. It was gentle as Logan cupped Deceit’s cheeks, Deceit’s multiple arms snaking around Logan’s waist and middle to hold him as close as possible.

—————————–

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[johannas-motivational-insults]

Adora might be autistic too

Alright, most people in the SPOP fandom agree that Entrapta is autistic, as her coding is extremely obvious. However, some of us also believe that our beloved protagonist Adora is on the spectrum as well. She comes off as quite the aspie, and while Asperger’s is no longer a diagnosis in the DSM-V (but is in other manuals), it falls under the blanket diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and its diagnostic criteria is still useful in analyzing people for signs of the disorder. In analyzing Adora’s character I will refer somewhat to both disorders, with the understanding that Asperger’s is a specific manifestation of ASD.

I would like to preface this by saying this is a headcanon and people are free to disagree with me. Some of these characteristics I’m going to bring up could also manifest because of her very sheltered upbringing in a cult-like atmosphere or mental illnesses such as anxiety and complex PTSD (both of which she arguably has). I am autistic myself, so obviously I am inclined to interpret these symptoms this way, but to each their own. It’s also worth noting that Adora has a lot of symptoms that cross over with AD(H)D, a cousin disorder to ASD, and it’s totally possible she has both.

In any case, there is now enough evidence hinting at Adora’s neurodivergence (especially now that the Rebel Princess Guide has been released) that I feel the need to explain this theory in detail instead of just occasionally mentioning it. So here goes...

She’s naive/easily manipulated

This one doesn’t really need explaining, we’ve all seen it. Adora assumes people are telling the truth because why would anyone lie to her? That is such a relatable spectrum feel. She was handily brainwashed by Shadow Weaver in the Horde, while some of the others didn’t seem to swallow the propaganda so easily. This is of course partly because of the special attention and affection Adora got from Shadow Weaver, but she had to be vulnerable to manipulation in the first place for it to work.

Later, she trusts Huntara easily in the Crimson Waste despite Bow and Glimmer’s warnings about her questionable character. Adora happily follows her into a trap even once Bow and Glimmer tell her they're going the wrong way, reasoning it’s probably a shortcut rather than reevaluating her misplaced trust. This can be partly explained by how she‘s gay af for Huntara, but still.

(Interestingly, the episode cuts straight from this moment to the obviously autistic Entrapta going against her own friend's advice and refusing to give up on the portal machine despite the obvious warning sign of Hordak’s violent dismissal. Parallels, much?)

Her difficulty understanding other points of view

A lot of Adora’s conflict with Catra is predicated on misunderstandings, and she has a hard time understanding the effects her actions have on other people, Catra in particular. For instance, she misunderstands Catra talking about ruling the Horde together as being purely about power, while Catra’s actual goals are safety and Adora’s companionship. That miscommunication is not just Adora’s fault, but it illustrates that she has difficulty understanding other people’s needs and motives without being explicitly told.

This isn’t just a problem with Catra, either. In general Adora has a difficult time understanding other’s motives and feelings. For instance, she doesn’t understand Glimmer’s insecurity over Bow’s friendship with Perfuma at Princess Prom, and she can’t fathom why Entrapta would choose to work for an evil faction, going so far as to assume she must have been brainwashed into it. This is because, just like with Catra, she doesn’t understand that some people’s priorities are not the same as hers.

Autistic kids tend to reach developmental milestones at different times than neurotypicals, sometimes being way ahead and other times falling behind. One such marker that is usually slower to develop and often stays impaired is theory of mind, our ability to a) understand that other people have different perspectives and b) understand those perspectives. Adora’s difficulties being able to put herself in someone else’s shoes definitely lines up with this symptom.

She’s clumsy

For someone so athletic, Adora sure lacks coordination. This is a commonly cited symptom of people with Asperger’s, though it shows up in people with other forms of ASD too. In general, autistic people often have difficulty with fine and/or gross motor skills, and this can lead to being accident and injury prone. According to Catra in 3x05, Adora bumps her head a lot. That may have just been a callback to 1x01, but either way clumsiness has been part of her characterization since the beginning, one of her many loveable, adorkable qualities.

Her lack of social and self awareness

Adora can be painfully oblivious to her own inappropriate behavior. There’s several examples of this throughout the series, one of the more costly ones coming at Princess Prom. Shocked by Frosta’s youth, Adora fails to register how maybe this (in front of Frosta, with all eyes on her) is not the time to remark on it. She immediately realizes this was the wrong thing to say (or at least not something she should shout), but that small delay causes both her and Glimmer a lot of embarrassment.

Part of the issue here is that she loses control of her volume, which in itself is a common problem for those of us on the spectrum. This isn’t the only time we see her have this problem, either, and it’s amplified (tee hee) when she’s drunk/infected.

More generally, one of the funniest examples of Adora’s poor social awareness comes when she barges into Huntara’s flirtation with the bartender in the Crimson Waste. She’s so focused on her task of recruiting Huntara that it doesn’t even occur to her that this is an intimate moment and intruding would be rude.

In the Rebel Princess Guide Adora also says she wishes Queen Angella would let her make some adjustments to the uniforms of the Bright Moon guards, which implies she tried to make these suggestions already. Maybe she figured She-Ra could suggest anything, but as both a newcomer and a royal subject that’s a bit of a faux pas. Chances are, that went right over Adora’s head.

She can’t read a room to save her life (literally)

This is another, more specific aspect of social awareness. Adora has difficulty picking up on the implicit rules (social norms) when she enters unfamiliar situations, and has a tendency to step on toes because of it. She also doesn’t understand when her friends try to nonverbally communicate what she’s doing wrong, and nonverbal communication deficits and problems with social awareness and insight are two major symptoms of ASD. One specifically listed example is “difficulties adjusting behavior to suit social contexts”, including:

Lack of response to contextual cues (e.g. social cues from others indicating a change in behavior is implicitly requested)

Unaware of social conventions/appropriate social behavior; asks socially inappropriate questions or makes socially inappropriate statements

Here’s a couple specific example of times where Adora misses or misunderstands nonverbal cues to change her behavior:

At her first Rebellion meeting she doesn’t realize that maybe she shouldn’t sit in the special-looking chair, and doesn’t clue in that that’s why everyone is freaking out.

In the Crimson Waste, Glimmer responds to the growling bar patrons surrounding them by suggesting that maybe these aren’t the kind of people they should be asking for help, but Adora persists. She jumps up on the bar and makes a speech trying to get directions (which is socially inappropriate for the context as well as dangerous), somehow missing all the scowls from the patrons as well as Bow and Glimmer’s wild gesturing.

Panic over unfamiliar social situations

Adora’s anxiety about going to Princess Prom could be attributed to many things, not just a spectrum disorder. Her obvious anxiety, for one, though to be fair there’s a high comorbidity between the two disorders. In any case, it seems the unfamiliarity of the situation is a sticking point for Adora in particular, while Bow and Glimmer are nothing but excited for their first ball.

Adora’s anxiety seems to stem mostly from being overwhelmed by the prospect of entering a new social situation with a whole bunch of unfamiliar rules to remember. She’s still learning behavioral norms outside of the Horde, and this is a huge jump up in terms of difficulty for her fledgling social skills.

To cope with her stress she goes overboard trying to prepare by making a conspiracy board of sorts, flash cards, and an obstacle course. And at the ball itself, it seems like she’s even rehearsed how to behave.

This probably isn’t only relatable to autistics, but it’s very relatable to us. Creating and rehearsing behavioral scripts is a common strategy to avoid embarrassing ourselves in public. Unfortunately, as we saw above, this works for about five seconds before Adora botches the whole thing by commenting on Frosta’s age.

Extreme stress over details

In general, Adora is a very anxious, perfectionistic person who hyperfixates on details, a very autistic trait. As mentioned above, this is wonderfully illustrated by her overpreparation for Princess Prom. She’s broken down the overwhelming list of rules in the invite into categories to make it more manageable, gone into detail categorizing people’s relationships to each other, and learned trivia about the guests in order to feel more prepared. Yet, somehow she missed the important fact that the hostess is only eleven years old.

Unfortunately this hangup doen’t only affect her, but also her friends and allies. The overarching theme in “Roll With It” is how debilitating Adora’s anxiety and perfectionism can be. Her eye for detail and ability to see flaws in plans is actually very valuable, but she gets so hung up on every possible thing that could go wrong that she can’t accept imperfect solutions with calculated risks.

Her propensity to be overwhelmed by too much information (like with the Princess Prom invite) shows up here too. Adora grows more and more frustrated and overwhelmed as more princesses join the planning session, adding more variables to deal with and more people to manage. She begins lashing out and shooting down every possible solution that doesn’t satisfy her need for perfection immediately. Her behavior looks like it may be headed for a meltdown until it culminates in an epic rant revealing all her anxiety and how it ties into her insecurities about her own imperfection.

Thankfully her friends are able to reassure her that she has support and doesn’t have to be perfect, but it’s an ongoing battle, one we already saw her struggle with in “Flowers for She-Ra” and “The Battle of Bright Moon”. It’s a strong tenet of Adora’s personality that is proving difficult to shake.

What she misses about the Horde

The recently published Rebel Princess Guide contains a list by Adora of things she misses about the Horde, and this list screams neurodivergent. I’ll go through it point by point, since there’s a lot to unpack here.

THINGS I MISS ABOUT THE HORDE

1. I miss the rigid schedule. It never changed, and I always knew what to expect.

Ritualistic behavior and an insistence on sameness are often seen in individuals with ASD. In fact, it’s a major symptom. Many of us have diifficulty adjusting to changing schedules, changes in diet, or even minor changes in our environment (such as placement of objects, boy do I have stories there). We need warning when things are going to change, and even if we know it’s coming it’s still a struggle to adjust.

2. I miss the constant sound of machines and whirring. In Bright Moon, there’s always music playing, or people laughing, and birds singing. It’s nice but it makes it hard to focus!

Autistic brains process sensory information differently from neurotypicals, that’s basically our disorder at its core. Over or under reactions to sensory input are common and in fact considered a major symptom, and this entry of Adora’s specifically refers to difficulties with sensory filtering. We have a hard time filtering out information that’s irrelevant to our current task, which makes us easily distractable.

3. Believe it or not, I miss my hard cot in the barracks. My bed in the castle is way too soft!

This ties into both the insistence on sameness and sensory issues.

4. Catra… sometimes.

This isn’t autistic, it’s just gay.

Speaking of which...

She’s gay

Adora's relationship with Catra has always been queer-coded, but any doubts about her sexuality were dispelled in season 3 by the way she fawns over Huntara like a baby gay over her gym teacher. Her obvious queerness might seem unrelated to the topic of autism, but those of us within the community can attest there’s probably just as many queer people among us as there are cishets. It’s so notable that there has been quite a bit of scientific research confirming people with ASD are more likely to be LGBT and gender atypical and exploring the cause of this link.

(This needs no proving at this point, but enjoy these gifs anyway...)

In conclusion

Overall, there’s a lot of hints and circumstantial evidence suggesting Adora could have ASD. Was this the creators’ intent? Hard to say. Adora is the protagonist and one of the most developed characters, so she’s definitely not a cardboard cutout or checklist for ASD symptoms (compare that to Entrapta, a secondary character whose behaviors can often easily be attributed to autism). It’s totally possible the creators just characterized her as naive and awkward and obsessive without realizing the implications of that cluster of traits together.

Regardless of authorial intent, it’s perfectly valid to look at Adora and see representation of the ASD community. The groundwork is there. And if someone else looks and doesn’t see it, or sees something else causing this behavior, that is also fair. No one is forcing anyone to accept this headcanon (or at least they shouldn’t be), but in return please don’t disparage it. Even if she is not autistic Adora is definitely autistic-coded, and we could use some more heros with the disorder, given how we’re mostly relegated to being villains and anti-heroes (not that there’s anything wrong with us filling those roles sometimes, but a little variety would be nice).

Adora is often referred to as a dumbass, but she’s actually quite intelligent, just sometimes slow to understand how she should act and how people feel. Still, she tries her hardest, just as she does with everything else. Adora is heroic and compassionate, even if she sometimes struggles to understand others. When autistic-coded characters are so commonly portrayed as cold and unforgiving, Adora is a sorely needed exception.

[youngsamberg]

I'm curious with the exception of the proposal and wedding what are your all time top peraltiago moments??

ooh okay here they are in chronological order: (this got so much longer than i was anticipating holy wow i am so sorry here are my top 38 peraltiago moments i guess fjdsalsadj) ((again with the exception of the proposal and wedding))

the bet. just the entirety of the bet.

“i’m sorry i said you were a bad partner. i was the bad partner. truth is, our job isn’t always great. sometimes it sucks. but... it sucks a little less when i get to do it with you.”

the breakroom scene in “the apartment” when jake lists amy’s flaws and she’s like ???????? and he’s like “you suck at throwing away your secret lists”

the whole “i kinda wish something could happen between us romantic stylez” speech

“it’s your baby!” “are you sayin i knocked you up?” “ya sure did!”

the entirety of the road trip aka my favorite episode

all of boyle-linetti wedding but especially the end “if you still wanted to slow dance with someone i know someone who would be up for that” “okay” “this is gina’s great aunt susan” and as he’s walking susan to the dance floor when he looks at amy and sighs “ahh... you....” and amy’s laugh and then both of their faces as jake is dancing with susan

every time jake lost his shit during det. dave majors

JOHNNY & DORA

“we broke a rule”

“i was home and i wanted to talk to someone about us, and dozerman, and about holt being gone. and then i realized that the only person i wanna talk about that stuff with is you.” might be my favorite line

“i don’t care if i get demoted i just care about being with you...... captain dozerman”

the iconic yippie kayak kiss

“i love you” “noice. smort. i love you too”

when jake got overprotective of amy in maximum security and took himself off the assignment bc obviously she could do it on her own

“and jake... i haven’t seen him in weeks and it’s been so hard. i love him so much. oh my god. i’ve said ‘i love you’ to him before but i’ve never added ‘so much’. what if i never get to say ‘so much’?!?!”

the nonverbal communication when jake tells amy to shoot him in the leg with his eyes

“she’s your girlfriend, peralta!” “not tonight she isn’t! although don’t kiss anyone else, i love you so much”

“it only matters what amy thinks, and apparently she loves you” “i do”

“was that a harry potter reference?” “it most definitely was. i started reading them because you love them so much”

“when we were back there racing through the miranda rights i just looked over at you and thought, you’re awesome and you’re good at doing things. i mean sure i’ll miss towel but your happiness is worth way more than winning some stupid bet”

babysitting cagney and lacey

their resigned sad smiles in the car before they go back to the courthouse when jake and rosa get found guilty and the “i love you” “i love you”

“everything’s fine. i’m talking to you”

“she’s incredible and she’s my best friend and i realized in that moment that i wanted to spend my life with her”

two turkeys is also one of my favorite episodes

jake’s stupid jealousy in the puzzle master

“it’s hard not to say a really corny thing right now about how every day’s a honeymoon with you” “aww. although technically you did just say it which is very embarrassing for you”

the end of bachelor/ette party

jake telling amy that rosa’s gonna be okay in show me going bc he knows she’s worried about her

the roleplaying in honeymoon is iconic they’re such nerds

amy telling jake about her me too experience

jake supporting amy and telling off her mom in the golden child

CASECATION!!! idc what anyone says it’s an incredible ep

amy constantly facetiming jake when she’s not at work in ticking clocks

deciding to start trying!!

obviously the entirety of trying

“ames... are we having a baby?” “we’re having a baby!”

[flightfoot]

Dragon Falls Ch. 2

AO3

Light filtered through her eyelids.

 Kagami groaned.

 Sadly, groaning didn’t actually cause the sun to reverse and go into hiding.

 Against her wishes, she woke up the rest of the way.

 And very much wished she hadn’t.

 Every part of her body ached. She felt like she’d just been hit with a sledgehammer between her eyes, and her wings…

 She tried to shift them.

 Big mistake.

 Searing pain ripped through her, forcing her to let out a yelp. Craning her neck around, she got a good look at them.

 They appeared intact, but the joint of one of her wings was severely swollen.

 She winced.

 Dragons healed quickly, but an injury like that was likely to take a week or more to recover from. In the meantime, she was grounded.

 What even HAPPENED?

 Casting her mind back, she tried to recall.

 The memories were fuzzy, as they always were after a raid. The queen’s compulsions dulled higher order thinking, replacing it with her own will - mostly “get food”. Sheep were her favorite.

 While she’d been off hunting for the Queen numerous times, this was her first time going up against humans. These were by far the most dangerous hunting grounds.

 And now here she was, alone, in a valley, badly injured, unable to fly away, and-

A face swam across her vision, blond hair and a smirk, and then-

 The structure collapsed on her.

 She shuddered. Well, that explained the injuries. But what happened after that?

 Branches brushed against her, uneven ground occasionally causing her to stumble. 

 She didn’t pause, just getting up and running some more.

 All she knew was she needed to get far away from there, to somewhere safe.

 A short fall, trying to spread her wings and finding one wouldn’t move properly-

 And then she was on the ground.

 She faintly heard leaves rustling, but couldn’t bring herself to move.

 PAIN.

 Something CRACKED, going back into place.

 Flailing a little, she opened her eyes.

 THE BOY.

 Tried to get to her feet-

 And fell.

 He ran.

 She passed out.

 That crack… did that boy relocate her wing joint?

 And he hadn’t come back with backup, even though she was unconscious and helpless…

 Though that part might be due to it being night at the time. She had decent night vision, but from what she’d heard about humans, theirs was atrocious.

 Hauling herself up (and grimacing a bit at the soreness) she set about investigating her surroundings.

---------

 This area she’d fallen into was pretty nice at least. Only one entrance in or out (unless you could fly or felt like falling fifteen feet), with a small freshwater pond and some nice spots for sunbathing. 

 The single entrance made things tricky. On the one hand, it meant she couldn’t be surrounded by vikings. On the other hand, it meant that she had no escape route.

 Probably best to avoid it except for getting drinks of water. 

 Her stomach made her other needs known, giving out a rumble.

 She sighed. Hopefully prey was plentiful.

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

An hour later she’d caught and eaten three rabbits and a squirrel. 

 Turns out they weren’t used to being sprayed with water or electrocuted. 

 No fire blasts. While that would certainly have done the trick as well, setting the forest on fire while she was in it didn’t seem like the best idea.

 Her ears pricked.

 Voices floated up from somewhere close by.

 She hid behind a bush as well as she could. Even injured, she’d probably be able to fight off a couple vikings, but best to gather intel first.

 “...you think it’s still there?”

 “Probably. It was hurt pretty badly.”

 A flash of yellow caught her eyes.

 A boy and a girl traipsed into view. 

 The boy… that hair looked a lot like what she remembered from before, with the attack.

 The brown-haired girl was new though.

 She darted out of the bush. The brunette raised her axe instinctively.

 Keeping an eye on her (the axe probably wouldn’t do MUCH damage, but it partially depended on where she was hit…) she faced the blonde. “Why didn’t you kill me before?”

 Both the humans’ mouths dropped open as their eyes bugged out of their heads.

 She tilted her head to the side. 

 What were they doing? Was this some human signal?

 She had a difficult enough time reading DRAGON body language, did she have to master human nonverbal communication as well?

 “YOU CAN TALK?!”

 They didn’t know that? “Of course I can-”

 Wait.

 They only ever raided the humans when under the Queen’s influence.

 And while being controlled by her, they were little more intelligent than the prey they hunted.

 “You’ve never heard us talk before.”

 The boy stared off into the distance. “Those sounds I heard you making before, the screams… I… I thought they sounded too human. I- I guess… I guess now I know why.”

 The girl put her hand on her chin. “I’ve been through a lot of dragon raids. One of the first things I learned was how indistinguishable dragon cries were from human cries and I just… no one ever thought, even CONSIDERED why that might be.”

 Blinking, the boy snapped out of his daze. “Well there was Alix’s brother’s theory.”

 “Jalil’s… oh right!”

 She turned to face Kagami. “Uh… you’re not secretly a banished viking, cursed to wander the skies in the shape of a beast, right?”

 Humans were weird. “I am fairly certain I am not.”

 “So why can you talk? Why haven’t any dragons talked to us before? Oooh can only SOME dragons talk? Why have you guys been raiding our town? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.”

A squeal emanated from somewhere close by. It took her a moment to realize it came from the girl.

 “Do- do you know what happened to my mom?” a voice asked quietly.

 His voice quavering with hope, the boy looked up at her, almost seeming to plead for her to say ‘yes’.

 She hated to disappoint him.

 But lying would hurt more. “This was my first raid. I know nothing about any specific humans.”

 He went quiet, looking down at his feet. The girl put an arm around his shoulder.

 “As for the other questions, it does depend on species. Most dragons can talk, but there are a few who do not have the intelligence required to do so, as well as a few others who communicate through other means. All of us who are sent to raid your village are able to talk, however.”

 The girl frowned. “Sent?”

 “By the Queen. She bends us to her will, forces us to hunt for her, to please her. Some have tried to escape-” She shuddered. “But few have succeeded. She- she can hypnotize us, make it so we have to follow her commands, even miles away. Anywhere her voice can reach, she can take control. And it can last for awhile - up to a day. Your village is just outside the edge of her sphere of influence.”

 She looked down. “While under her power, we cannot speak, can barely think. If we could keep our wits, keep our sense of self-” she spat, “-then we might be able to oppose her, to throw off her control. Her call suppresses that part of us entirely.”

 The two humans looked at each other. “The dragons - every time we’ve captured one, my father’s ordered them killed almost immediately. They- they never got a chance for the Queen’s influence to wear off!”

 The color drained from the boy’s face. “They were killed… and they weren’t even in control of themselves at the time.”

 The girl nodded. She looked like she’d hurl if she opened her mouth.

 A low growl escaped Kagami’s throat. She’d heard stories of the dragons who’d never made it back, mourned the fallen. 

 While she’d saved some of her ire for the Queen for forcing her subjects into such a dangerous situation in the first place, she’d also harbored some fear and anger for the humans who actually killed the dragons involved.

 But they hadn’t known.

 To them, it was no different than her killing those rabbits.

 “We’ve got to tell everyone!”

 The girl turned, started to head back. The boy caught her arm. “Wait. I want to stop this as much as you do, but do you really think they’ll believe you?”

 She let out a frustrated noise. “Well if a dragon’s TALKING, they’ll have to, won’t they?!”

 He shook his head. “If they see a dragon in the village, do you really think they’ll all sit down and have a conversation with her? Or just attack immediately?”

 “I am not entering the village,” Kagami interjected. No way she was being kept out of this conversation. “My wing is still injured and I do not know if I can trust them to just talk. And while you two seem friendly, I have not forgotten how often you humans have hurt or killed us. I accept that you may have done so based on limited information, but they are still dead.”

 The girl looked away and sighed. “Yes, but… but what about next raid?! I- I don’t want to watch someone get killed if I could’ve prevented it!”

 They all stood looking at each other awkwardly.

 She turned around and started loping off.

 “Wait, where are you going?!”

 “It does not look like anything will be settled here and I must explore the rest of the island, try to find a better resting spot. I do not wish to risk being discovered and murdered by a random human.”

 The boy called out again. “But- but how will we find you again?”

 She stopped, closing her eyes. 

 These humans honestly seemed like they wanted to help. Like they didn’t mean any harm.

 But she also barely knew them.

 “I will find you. My hearing and sense of smell far outstrips what you are capable of. If I deem it safe, I will appear.”

 She didn’t completely trust them yet.

 But she wanted to.

 Turning around again, she got two dragon-lengths away-

 “WAIT!”

 Again?

 “What’s your name?” the boy pointed at himself and then at his companion. “I’m Adrien, and this is my friend Alya.”

 Adrien and Alya…

 She mouthed the words for a moment, getting used to the feel of them.

 It made this feel more… official somehow. 

 They weren’t just “those humans”.

 They were Alya and Adrien.

 And maybe, just maybe

 In the future she might call them ‘friends’.

 “I am Kagami.”

 She raced off, this time without interruption.

 They all had a lot to think about.

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on The Witness

[no spoilers... this game would be nearly impossible to spoil in text]

Where do I even start?

I guess one thing to know about The Witness is that you can watch the famous 9-minute tracking shot from Nostalghia - where Oleg Yankovsky tries to walk a candle from one end of a drained pool to the other without extinguishing it - in its entirety. (I think it’s the entirety, I left before the clip was over; yeah, Jon, I get it.)

How do we interpret this? I haven’t watched Nostalghia, but I know that scene. Every film major knows that scene. Tony Zhou cited it in discussing lateral tracking shots, how they emphasize environment and create emotional distance from humans in the frame, and how Tarkovsky uses this to make the sequence lonely and arduous. Kyle Kallgren cited it in discussing how YouTube makes critique of certain types of art difficult, and Content ID essentially decides for us what film as a medium is even for.

Jon Blow plays the clip in full with no commentary - or, rather, the game itself is the commentary. There’s a sequence in Indie Game: The Movie where Jon Blow expresses some pain about how his game Braid was received, how he felt no one who played it ever really understood everything he was trying to say with it. That feeling might be ameliorated if he weren’t such a constituionally obtuse motherfucker.

Perhaps the scene is meant to draw parallels between Yankovsky’s dedication to a task that is simple yet difficult and the game’s puzzles, built, as they are, around complexity-through-simplicity. Except, Yankovsky’s Andrei has a personal investment carrying this candle, one Tarkovsky has spent the entire film setting up. I was about five hours into The Witness when I found this clip - more than twice the duration of Nostalghia - and I still didn’t know why I was solving the game’s puzzles or what they were trying to communicate.

Perhaps the scene is meant to draw parallels between the patience it encourages in its audience and the calm, meditative mode all The Witness’ allusions to Buddhism are seemingly on about, to give yourself over to the time investment the game demands of you. Except, Nostalghia asks you to spend nine minutes thinking about one thing; zen Buddhism encourages you to think of nothing; The Witness asks you to spend between fifteen and forty hours thinking about a zillion things. It is not a game about clearing your mind, it’s about filling your mind up. There is little continuity between the thoughtless peace of meditation or Yankovsky’s emotional collapse and the game’s intended “aha” moments.

But the ambiguity, the contextlessness of the scene’s inclusion, means you can’t be sure whether it’s contradictory. If we assume it’s about dedication, and we find a flaw in that worldview, maybe the problem is that we didn’t assume it was about meditation. And vice versa. If it fails to communicate, maybe the problem is us.

The only thing this scene communicates for sure is that Jon Blow wants me to know he watches Tarkovsky.

Jon Blow wants you to trust he knows what he’s doing. That the game is saying something. He also never, ever wants to tell you what it is. (If he could just tell you, he wouldn’t have spent eight years making it into a game, I suppose.) But this operates on completely opposite rules to the puzzles. Puzzles in The Witness are maze-drawing panels with increasing numbers of rules, all conveying their rules nonverbally, through gameplay. You see a symbol you don’t recognize, or a shape you don’t know how to draw, and you try things out, you make assumptions, you fail repeatedly, and then something works, the panel lights up, and you know you got it right. Now you understand what the symbol means.

The theming doesn’t work that way. Whatever theory you have as to what the game’s about, there will be no moment of clarification. Blow has an incredible talent, in fact, for constructing imagery that is hilariously blunt yet still ambiguous. As with Braid, where he crammed a straightforward narrative about memory and regret with allusions to quantum physics and the atomic bomb, The Witness references Einstein, the Buddha, Richard Feynman, romantic poetry, tech culture, game design, and - most of all - itself.

I realize I’m dancing around the subject here, because what the gameplay is (or isn’t) in service of is far easier to talk about than the gameplay itself. The Witness is a big island full of touch screens where you draw lines on grids. That’s it. The island is dense with structures and biomes, impossibly having a desert, a swamp, and three different kinds of forest which appear to be in four different seasons. What it doesn’t have is any reason why you’re there or a justification for solving ~600 line-drawing puzzles other than because Jon Blow wants you to. I was wrong in my video from 2015 to call The Witness narrative-based; the game contains narrative but it is not a narrative game. The island is very pretty, meticulously crafted, and not trying in the slightest to look like a real place. It is Myst minus everything people like about Myst.

Absent a reason for my character - if I’m even playing a “character” - to solve the puzzles, why am I, the player, solving them? The short answer is, “Because they’re there. You knew what you were buying. You solve the puzzles because it’s a puzzle game, do I gotta draw you a diagram?” (No, you need me to draw 600 diagrams.) That is unsatisfactory because the island is clearly more than an elaborate menu system.

Do I solve them because they’re interesting? I mean, they’re not bad, if you’re into Sudoku or, like... cereal boxes. In and of themselves, they’re not my cuppa. People told me about a repeated sense of epiphany the game provoked for them, but that’s not the way I experienced it. Every puzzle is so carefully tutorialized that I never felt I was making an intuitive leap. There is no lateral thinking in The Witness, it is strictly longitudinal. You get a row of puzzle panels, and you take them one by one (you are, in fact, prevented from jumping ahead), each one building on what it taught you. And they get hard, certainly, but each is the logical progression of the one before. And each is a marvel of nonverbal communication, but that’s more Jon being clever than it is me. This is not to judge people who did get a feeling of discovery; one person’s “aha” moment is another’s “yeah, Jon, I get it.”

(Aside: I did get a proper “aha” moment when I came to a panel that could be solved two ways. It controlled a moving platform; draw one line, the platform moves right, draw the other and it moves left. And I thought, “Huh, I guess I get it, but those shapes seem kind of arbitrary.” But then, while it was moving, I realized the platform itself mirrored what I had drawn; the two designs were what shape the platform would take when connected with each endpoint! And I went “oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s clever, that‘s really clever.” My first epiphany. It was the most Myst-like the game got, it was clearly not the kind of experience Jon Blow was interested in recreating much, and it took place 7 hours in.)

Do I solve them because I’m compelled? In the first play sessions, I asked myself several times, “Do I even like this?” The game is often tedious and frustrating and I regularly muttered “fuck off, Jon.” But I kept playing. I got annoyed when people interrupted me. I got a hideous case of Tetris effect. They’re not the kind of puzzles you can spend the day thinking through, like you would with Myst or Riven; they’re too abstract to visualize without them right in front of you. And the world is pretty but it’s not a place I wish I could visit, like I would with, again, Myst or Riven. But I kept going back. I solved puzzles less because I found pleasure in finishing them than I found displeasure in them being unfinished. Jon Blow has given talks on how game design focused on being “addictive” is basically evil - his word, not mine. And yet... it felt more like I was playing his game because I was hooked than because I was enjoying myself.

Do I solve them because I trust Jon Blow? Because I believe this will all amount to something? Jon certainly expects me to trust him. The game blares PROFUNDITY AHEAD constantly. (I remind you it quotes the Buddha.) But, in the years since Braid, I have grown less impressed with Jon Blow’s “art game genius” shtick. One fun bit about playing The Witness so late is finally reading all the discourse, and, well before finishing the game, I had read the thoughts of Andrew Plotkin, and Liz Ryerson, and Andi McClure - all of whom are brilliant - so I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting into. What’s surprised me is, having gotten to the first ending - not the secret ending - what the game is up to still isn’t clear. There are enough allusions to heady ideas that you can infer some stuff, but the default ending - while pretty enough - adds nothing and reveals nothing. And getting the True Ending means completing the In the Hall of the Mountain King section, something many will never find and precious few will ever complete. (Debating whether I’m going to even try.) If Jon Blow wants you to trust that he’s going somewhere with this, he makes you wait a long time before finding out if it’s worth it. [EDIT: turns out the secret ending comes after a different set of obscure puzzles than Hall of the Mountain King.]

Which leads me back to my original conclusion: I am solving the puzzles because Jon Blow told me to.

I suspect the arc Jon wants is for me to begin solving puzzles because I want to know what they’re in service of, what point Jon is trying to make, and then spend so long on them that I forget about the destination and just wrap myself up in the work, and, after dozens of hours on the hardest of the hard puzzles, Jon will finally reveal that the point he was making was about the labor I have just done. That he couldn’t tell me what it was for until I’d already done it. That the labor was its own reward. And how much you like The Witness is going to depend on whether or not you feel ripped off.

The overall impression The Witness left me with was less of meditation than discipline. (I have joked that playing The Witness feels like being in a D/s relationship with Jon Blow and not knowing the safe word.) Jon presents a simple concept and then expects you to solve every. single. permutation. of that concept. You do the work to find out what it’s about, and then what it’s about is the work. That game is about itself. The subject of The Witness is solving The Witness. It’s about purity of design, about simplicity, about slowly mastering a set of skills. (That these skills are neither inherently pleasurable to perform nor applicable in any other context seems not to matter; the point is, you learned them.) It’s hard not to read a game fixated on the beauty of its own design as all kinds of smug.

I allowed myself to be spoiled on the True Ending, and it seems, in the eleventh hour, if you draw lines til your fingers bleed, the game makes room for self-critique, questioning whether all this dedication to design actually is, in any way, meaningful or useful to us. Which, just a little bit, smacks of an artist spending two years making a sculpture of himself, chiseled to make him look a perfect Olympian beauty, only to label it “EGOISM.” Ooo. Make you think.

I suspect, in the end, I played it to (partial) completion because I was curious. I didn’t necessarily buy Jon Blow’s hype, but his hype is intriguing. As a portrait of a certain mindset, a monomaniacal obsession with design for design’s sake, the folk-religion of salvation through technology, and the critique of same, it is fascinating. I know people - smart people - who genuinely love this game, and, if the above is any indication, I clearly love talking about it. I have no regrets.

But, word of advice: if you don’t a) love the puzzles, or b) love the discourse, just walk away. Everything will be fine.

[thuskindlyshescatters]

Would Cinder be better if she had stayed mute?

Real question here! I was thinking about what makes us attracted to Neo and when we’ve seen Cinder’s most compelling character development. Both queries have the same answer -- when they have to express themselves nonverbally, it’s much more exciting to interpret their inner monologue and guess at their motivations, rather than to have all this dialogue and to still know neither of those things.

Note: This post is not meant to dunk on Jessica Nigri; I think she’s done wonderful work as Cinder in Volume Seven and I’m excited to see where they go from here.

But wouldn’t Cinder be... better?

First, let’s examine what makes Cinder’s dialogue in Volumes Five, Six, and Seven ineffective. (Not Four, since she was silent, and not 1-3, since she was a vastly different character.)

It’s mostly a stylistic issue. Cinder’s lines are written and performed with a breathy, sexy tone to them (saying “aw” a lot, run-on lines that make any statement suggestive, cheesy nicknames like “little bird,” “the lion,” or “little red” that she didn’t use before, etc.), which really doesn’t help her become more intimidating -- it’s like the writer’s have an idea of the sexy, menacing villain they want in this role, but haven’t decided a method of making her that way.

An issue with the story that stresses this awkwardness is her lack of established motivation. We’ve seen suggestions of her “wants” in select scenes, but only two lines have ever truly hinted at her backstory:

“I thought you said you were the girl that wanted power. Did you lie to me?” (Salem, 4x11)

“You think hoarding power means you’ll have it forever, but it just makes the rest of us hungrier! And I refuse to starve.” (Cinder, 7x13)

Yeah, that’s right: the only one actually delivered by Cinder was the most recent episode.

Ultimately, it comes down to too much pointless or awkward dialogue devoted to her evilness and sexiness, and not enough devoted to her true character, which is a much more effective means of making her seem evil.

But we did like Cinder in some scenes, right? There were moments when we may have genuinely felt for her, or at least understood her, making us appreciate her in a new light. Scenes where she communicated something deeper, something more complex about her morals, values, and beliefs. Something that made her villainy seem real.

These moments! When she’s realized her failure and consumed with frustration; when she’s silently horrified by Tyrian’s brutality; when she jumps at the sound behind her because she’s still recovering from her fight; when she’s exhausted yet still desperate to please Salem...

All of these scenes reveal her wants, her frustrations, her fears -- with nary a word spoken!

Then, in Volume Six, she encounters Neo, a mute character who stole the audience’s hearts with her nonverbal expressiveness. While she’s cute, it’s also clear she’s deadly, she’s fiercely loyal to Torchwick, she takes pleasure in violence, and she seeks direction.

We wish we see the same in Cinder, but every time she opens her mouth, the information we get is none of the above. At most, it’s “she’s sexy, here’s a little bit about the plot.”

So here’s my thesis: Volumes Five, Six, and Seven would be better if Cinder remained silent.

Not in a “seen and never heard” kind of way, but in a “what if we got more time to see her truly express herself when dialogue was no longer at her disposal?” kind of way. In Volume Five, all those over-dramatized lines that mostly just clutter her screentime with clunky exposition would be gone; instead, she would be Salem’s silent Black Queen piece, bent on revenge. In Volume Six, her moments of frustration and vulnerability would be prioritized over her one-liners and vague threats. And finally, in Volume Seven, she and Neo would be a perfect pair; not needing dialogue to communicate their nefarious plans, striking from a mutual feeling of hell-bent rage and an underlying compulsion to follow their old habits. Maybe she would even be trying to recover her voice in 5-6, but partnering with Neo would make her realize that she doesn’t need it in order to gain power, and thus Neo’s reintroduction to the story would actually matter to Cinder’s character development.

I don’t want to list out all my examples, so in closing, I want you to think of one Cinder line that’s made you roll your eyes. (You know it exists.) Would that scene have been different if she’d not said anything? Would it have been better if she had instead expressed herself with a glare or a smirk or a threatening gesture?

Yeah, probably.

[thechildoflightning]

Interlude

Title: Interlude

Fandom: Sander Sides

Pairings: platonic loceit, background LAMP/CALM

part of the jksf verse

~~~

Summary: 

Logan wasn't sure he understood Deceit, hadn’t really gotten the chance to know him quite yet, but he was determined to try, which meant him and Deceit needed to talk.

Showing up randomly at Deceit’s apartment wasn't exactly the way Logan had been planning to go about that conversation, but here he was anyways.

Warnings: Snakes, Scars (mentioned), Abuse (past, mentioned), Manipulation (past, mentioned)

[ao3 link]

~~~

Interlude

Logan wasn’t sure what to think about Deceit. On one hand, the man seemed well-intentioned. On the other, he had tormented Virgil for years. But Virgil seemed to trust him- or at the very least was giving him the benefit of the doubt. 

Which Logan could understand. After all wasn’t he doing the same thing with his own parents?

His own parents hadn’t physical hurt him, not like Deceit had done to Virgil, but Logan’s parents had actually had the maturity and responsibility of making their own decisions, and they had made decisions that hurt Logan. Deceit didn't have that choice, both due to being a minor in addition to the manipulation and abuse he had undergone. 

For Logan it was suffering. For Deceit it was survival. It was important that Logan didn’t forget the significant distinction.

It boiled down to the fact that Deceit didn’t have a choice, while Logan’s parents did. Logan had attempted to reconnect and rebuild with his own parents. He would do so much more for Virgil, including- but not limited to- trying to get to know and understand what was possibly the only positive connection Virgil had to his childhood.

Which was why Logan was currently standing outside Deceit’s apartment door. 

There was a note on the door, requesting that he used the doorbell, so Logan reached over and pressed it, preparing himself for the upcoming interaction. 

His choice to visit Deceit had been a sudden impulsive decision, which was completely out of character for Logan. He didn’t do things like this. He didn’t show up at people’s doors with no warning. It wasn’t his routine. He was all about preparations and planning, and here he was, completely ignoring that. 

It made him shift from heel to toe and wring his hands uncomfortably as a sense of wrongness filled his body. Logically, he knew why he had come to talk to Deceit, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he had chosen now of all times.

The door swung open. 

Deceit casually leaned against the doorframe, regarding Logan carefully.

“Uh- Logan, right?” Deceit tried to confirm. 

Logan nodded. 

Deceit nodded in return. 

Logan opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again. Nothing. 

It was like his vocal cords had emptied. They were open, and they were clear, but the words just wouldn’t come out. His throat was a gaping cave with nothing but wind coming through.

Shit. Not now. Logan made a little frustrated noise and grasped his hands tightly, allowing his fingers to dig into his palms, just hard enough to feel, but not hard enough to break skin or cause much pain.

“Logan?” Deceit said. 

Logan nodded and made another frustrated noise, wishing his voice would work. (It didn’t).

Deceit shifted a bit at the door, before nodding his head and stepping a bit to the side. 

“Do you want to come in?” Deceit offered. 

Not knowing what else to do, Logan nodded and slipped past Deceit to enter the apartment. 

Deceit led them over to a table in the kitchen and took a seat, allowing Logan to do the same. Logan sat and stared at the table, lifting a hand to trail and follow the lines in it. 

“Uh,” Deceit started, seeming at a loss for words. 

Logan could understand that, considering he was in a similar position. He ached for the PECS binder he had just begun to use again. It helped a lot during nonverbal episodes like this one.

“Logan, not that I mind you being here, I mean, you’re welcome to visit, but- well, why are you here?”

Logan said nothing. 

Which was the worst, because he wanted to say something. He wanted to talk to Deceit. He wanted to explain that he wasn’t sure he trusted him yet and wanted to get to know him. Wanted to not be so uncomfortable around him. Wanted to trust him. 

But he couldn’t talk. 

His brain was working overdrive attempting to catch up to Logan’s change in routine by making  this random visit. But it wasn’t catching up fast enough, resulting in his speech cutting out completely. So now Logan was stuck, unable to talk, in a situation where he didn’t have someone who understood exactly what was going on. An understanding that he had gotten used to over the last few years.

He sighed and pulled out his phone, opening it to the notes app. Generally, typing wasn’t much better for him because it took energy that he didn’t have at the moment. It was what had finally convinced him to get a new PECS binder in the first place. 

He typed quickly, each letter painful, before sliding the phone over to Deceit. 

-can’t talk-

Deceit looked at it, frowned, and slid it back. 

“Okay,” he said, “Uh, did- did you want to talk?”

Logan nodded. 

He thought he should probably leave, come back another time when he had actually planned this out and his brain wasn’t as tired. 

He didn’t move. 

“Okay,” Deceit said, “Well we can do not talking. That’s fine.”

Logan stared at the table and gritted his teeth, hating himself a little bit. 

“Hey, do you like snakes?” Deceit asked him abruptly.

Logan didn’t lift his head, but gave a tiny shrug. Objectively, snakes were cool, but Logan had never actually interacted with them before. 

“Well, I have two. Want to meet them?” Deceit asked.

Logan shrugged again, but added a nod for good measure. Why not? It wasn’t like they were going to be doing much talking anyways.

Deceit gestured towards two tanks and started walking towards that. Logan pulled his shoulders tight and followed. 

Descent out a hand above one of the tanks. 

“This is Guildenstern,” he said. He moved his hand, holding it above the other rank. “And this is Rosencrantz.”

Those were Shakespeare names, right? Logan couldn’t quite remember where the names came from but he was almost positive they were in some Shakespearean play. He had to have either read it in high school or heard Roman talk about it when planning Shakespeare in the Park.

Logan shifted onto his toes and bounced a little, trying to desperately remember. When nothing same to mind, he made a little huff of displeasure. He had to know. He wanted to know. 

So Logan pulled out his phone and typed in a single word before shoving it in Deceits direction. 

Deceit mouthed the word the word with a frown. 

“Names?” Deceit eventually voiced out loud, seemingly unable to puzzle out what Logan was asking. 

Logan nodded. 

“I just told you their names.”

Logan nodded once more. 

Deceit stared at him for a minute, before his whole face lit up. 

“Oh, did you want to know about the names?”

Logan nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. Cool. Yeah. Okay so Guildenstern and Rosencratz are two characters from Shakespeare’s Hamlet.”

Logan had been right, they were Shakespeare. 

“But they’re minor characters. Before this guy, Tom Stoppard, actually decided to give them their own play. It’s an existential tragicomedy playing on the ideas of absurdity. Major characters of Hamlet also tend to feature as minor characters in the show. It’s this- It just turns it all on its head, yknow?”

Logan did not know, considering he hadn't seen it known about the play, but he could tell Deceit was passionate about it. 

“I just really admire the brilliance behind the work. To write a play like that, to reimagine two minor characters from such a notable figure’s work, and then give them their own play is incredible. And to do that well with humor, philosophy, style it the same as Shakespeare. And then to have it be successful?” Deceits eyes shined and delight in passion and he looked back over at Logan. His smile dropped and he slammed his mouth shut. “And yeah- that’s where my snakes got their names. That was probably super uninteresting and boring. Sorry about that.”

Something clenched tightly with Logan. How many times had Logan himself said almost the exact words Deceit had? Sure for Logan it was infodumping versus passionate rambling and there was a difference. But, it was the same concept of being told that no one was interested in what you had to say.

Logan shook his head frantically as he tried to somehow communicate that it was okay for Deceit to ramble on about his interests.

Deceit frowned and gave a tilt of his head.

“I- I don’t know what you mean?” he admitted softly, “I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, “I just- I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

Logan shook his head, frustration growing inside him. He felt trapped. He knew what he wanted to say and he knew what he meant to say, but he didn’t know how to communicate that to Deceit. Deceit in turn, didn’t know how to communicate with Logan. He didn’t know how to provide options to alternative means of communication, or understand what was going on. They were both struggling and out of depths in the situation and nothing could be done to fix it because it was neither of their faults. It just was.

Logan huffed and thought about what to do next.

He could leave- it would probably be easiest to leave- but it would leave an itch of dissatisfaction. Logan had come here on a mission that he still hadn’t completed. He wanted to get to know Deceit, and he thought he was maybe starting to.

Logan pointed back to the snakes and gestured in a way that he hoped Deceit understood as ‘Keep talking. Tell me more. I’m interested.’

Deceit continued to look at him blankly and gave a little shrug.

Logan grit his teeth and allowed his hands to meet, wringing and pulling at one another. Deceit watched the movement.

“Hey. You wanna hold one of them?” Deceit asked after a moment, “I think you might like it.”

Deceit thought Logan might like holding a snake?

In Logan’s mind, that seemed like an odd thing to assume, but he had no actual qualms and this poor attempt at a conversation wasn’t going anywhere. He shrugged and then nodded. Why not?

Deceit lit up. He walked quickly over to sink and rinsed off his hands before returning to one of the enclosures. He carefully slid the lid off and then reached in with both hands, gently scooping up the sake by the middle of its body. The snake quickly slithered around his arms, latching on to him firmly.

He pulled his arms carefully out, snake now wrapped around them.

“Guildenstern is shedding, so you can hold Rosie,” he explained, nodding down at the snake when he said its name.

Logan nodded, not having any real preference, or knowing what shedding had to do with any of this.

“Rinse off your hands first,” Deceit instructed.

Logan nodded, and then moved to the sink and did as told. He returned a moment later, unsure of what to do now.

“Okay, I'm going to give you her now. Try to support her with both hands, but if she wraps around you and does her own thing, that’s fine. Uh, she won’t bite- or she will bite if you do something stupid like grab her really hard or something. She’ll only bite in self defense. Just be gentle and you’ll be fine.”

No squeezing the snake. Got it. Logan could manage that.

“Okay,” Deceit said, “All that good with you?”

Logan nodded and held his hands out. Deceit then carefully untangled the snake from his arms. She had been steadily making her way up his body, stretching up into his shirt.

“Excuse me miss,” he said to the snake, “Please stop that. You’re going to Logan now, okay?”

The snake, of course, did not listen, but Deceit slowly detached her anyways and set her in Logan’s hands.

The first thing Logan noticed was the weight. He then noticed the cool feeling of her scales on his skin, how smoothly they rubbed against him. And then she moved.

She compressed part of her body and then extended, gripping onto him with strong muscles, and the weight of the pressure just about made Logan melt.

It felt so nice. It was possibly the nicest thing Logan had ever felt in his entire life. She was soft, and cool, with a weight and pressure to her that sent Logan’s head spinning in pleasure.. 

Logan couldn’t flap his hands so he shook his head a few times and started to hum.

“You like her?” Deceit said, tentative and hopeful.

Logan nodded vigorously and shifted from heel to toes, heel to toes. He nodded some more to make sure Deceit understood.

“Okay good. I thought you might.”

Deceit had thought right.

“I’m glad you think so,” Deceit said with a laugh.

Oh. Had Logan said that out loud? He hadn’t even noticed, to enraptured by the snake to pay attention to something as simple and boring as conversing. The snake was so much better.

She had now begun to climb up Logan’s own arm, smooth skin sliding against hers. He grinned happily at the movement, the pressure soothing and solid against him. Gosh this snake was just the best.

After a moment more Logan pointed at the snake and then back at Deceit, hoping that the other man would tell him more about her.

“You… want me to take her back?” Deceit questioned carefully.

No. No that was not what Logan wanted! Logan shook his head frantically. He liked the snake exactly where it was.

“Okay, okay. I won’t take her back,” Deceit said.

Logan hummed again and rocked on his feet.

He made new gestures, pointing to his mouth, then the snake and then waving his hand.

“You… want me to talk about her?” Deceit tried again.

Logan nodded in agreement. Deceit gave him a soft smile and began to do exactly that. He talked about ball pythons temperament and behavior. He told Logan about Rosie’s own personality and about Guildenstern’s as well. He commented about where he had gotten her from, and about the type of morph she was. He talked and talked and talked, stopping momentarily to make sure Logan was still interested.

Each time he stopped, Logan waved him on to continue and Dee shrugged and continued on.

It took a long time, but eventually the energy in Logan started to fade. He was still rocking and the feel of the snake- especially the pressure- was still everything, but time and the world around him seemed to come back into focus. 

It was also at this point that he realized how late it had gotten. 

“I should probably go now,” he said abruptly.

Deceit looked at him, mid-sentence in whatever he was saying about the snakes.

“Sorry,” Logan said, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“I-” Deceit grit his teeth together and Logan felt like a jerk. He hadn’t meant to interrupt Deceit, but he tended to do that a lot without realizing. “I, sorry, can you repeat that?”

Oh. Maybe Deceit wasn’t mad at him. Maybe he just hadn’t heard Logan.

“Sorry,” Logan repeated, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

Deceit gave Logan another unreadable expression.

“Do you need me to repeat myself again?” Logan asked.

“One second,” Dee said, “One second. Just give me- Don’t drop my snake, okay?”

With that, Deceit disappeared into another room,. Logan shrugged and continued to inspect the snake.

When Deceit returned he was fiddling with something in the ear on the opposite side of his facial scarring. A hearing aid, Logan realized.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Deceit said, “Say whatever you were saying again?”

“I was saying sorry, that I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” Logan said. He paused, then spoke again, “You’re hearing aid is whistling,” he noted.

“Yeah,” Deceit sighed, “It does that sometimes.” he reached up and fiddled with it a bit and the whistling faded away.

“Oh, should I not have mentioned it?” Logan asked.

“I- uh. No. No I’d prefer you mention it.”

“Okay,” Logan agreed.

“And it’s gone, I was just saying some of the same stuff about the snakes. Uh. What did you say before that.”

What had Logan said before? Oh right, it was getting late.

“I was saying that it was getting late. I should probably head home. Thanks for letting me hold your snake.”

“Yeah no problem,” Dee muttered, “hey uh. You don’t have to answer. But why- why did you visit?”

Logan shrugged.

“I wanted to get to know you. You’re a part of Virgil’s life, have been for awhile. I don’t want to take that relationship away from either of you, that’s not my place. But at the same time, Virgil is my husband. I care about him. I just wanted to get to know you, understand you better. You’re going to be a part of my husbands life, which makes you part of my life, and because of that I think it’s important for us to have an understanding of one another. Does that make any sense?”

Deceit stared at Logan for a good while, before eventually nodding.

“Uh yeah. That makes sense. And I mean- I get the hestitance. I was,” Deceit swallowed, “Well I wasn’t good to Virgil. So I can see why you would be careful.”

That wasn’t exactly what Logan was saying. He had never thought Deceit had bad intentions or was someone deserving of caution. It was more that Logan wanted to understand. But Logan didn’t know how to explain better, and he didn’t know where the disconnect between Deceit and him was. He left it for now.

“Okay,” Logan said instead. The snake in his arms twitched, and he realized he needed to give it back. “You can have your snake back. Thank you for letting me hold her. She’s very nice. And thank you for telling me about ball pythons. I really enjoyed learning about them, you seem to really care about your snakes.”

“Of course, and it’s no problem,” Deceit said, “I’m glad you like them too.”

Logan smiled, and rocked again. He waited for Dee to reach out to grab the snake or tell him how to put it back, but he didn’t say anything.

“Did, did you want the snake back?” Logan asked.

“Oh, right,” Dee said, giving an awkward half laugh. He walked forward and gently scoped the large creature off of Logan. Logan was sad to see the calm animal leave him. She had been quite comforting.

He turned away from Logan and gently set her back in her cage, before placing the lid back on and readjusting her heat lamp. After, Deceit directed Logan and himself both over to the sink to wash their hands. A minute later and he was facing Logan again, in the same spot they had started.

“I should probably be leaving, but it was nice to get to know you,” Logan said, offering his hand out for a hand shake.

Deceit took it, his grip firm. He shook Logan’s hand and then dropped his own.

“It was nice to meet you too.”

With that, Logan turned to leave. When he had reached the door and was about to open it, a call stopped him.

“Hey uh Logan?”

Logan paused and turned to face Deceit.

“I, uh, you can come visit the snakes again if you want. You’re not bad company.”

Logan visibly brightened and nodded his thanks. He would have to do so. Deceit wasn’t bad company himself.

~~~

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[everyonesonthespectrum]

30 Days of Autism Acceptance Days 21-29!

Ok I missed over a full week and I’m super sorry about that. It was my birthday on the 24th and there was a lot of chaos on that day and the week surrounding it, I hope y’all can understand. All of the prompts will be under a cut, too

April 21: Give a shoutout to some of your favorite autism blogs/autistic bloggers

I really don’t follow any besides @spongebob-autisticquestions, if y’all have any blog recommendations, let me know!

April 22: What are some social rules that do not make sense to you/that you don’t understand?

(Note that I live in the Midwestern US, so the social rules that I experience may differ from yours.) A big issue for me is the conflict of needing to be independent, while also obeying what others say without question. Like, I can’t be obeying orders like a dog if I want to be living on my own in an apartment or house. 

Also, the whole eye contact thing bothers me, it’s really hard for me to keep eye contact, and keeping it for long periods of time stresses me out. I’d much rather look at the floor or off into the distance. 

My parents (and sometimes my teachers) give me grief if I don’t say please or thank you all the time too. Like, you’re the one who always feeds me and pay for my meals, why should I have to say thank you every single time? You know that I’m thankful, I don’t need to boost your ego.

April 23: Do you have any internal rules? What are they?

If I take my pills with food, I always take them after I’m done eating. I also always count the pixels in threes when I’m doing perler bead sprites. I’m a bit of a neat freak too, and I keep things in columns and rows (for example, all of my packaging supplies are in boxes stacked on top of each other).

April 24: Talk about community. What does the autistic community mean to you? Is it important? How does it feel?

Besides this blog, I’m not really involved in the autism community. Facebook is full of Autism Moms™, I just got a Twitter account 2 days ago, and the only people you’ll really find talking about autism on Instagram are cosplayers, because we’re autistic ourselves. I’m glad we have a community here, and that it’s a safe space for us to talk about ourselves and our experiences.

April 25: Do you know any other autistic people off the internet? Is anyone else in your family autistic or are you the only one? Do you wish you knew more?

I might have some autistic family, but I’m not sure/I’m unclear on it. For other IRL people, my ex is autistic, one of my good friends is self-diagnosed, and there’s probably more cosplay friends that I can’t remember at the moment. I also go to a gap year program for neurodivergent people, so there’s 2 other autistic kids there with me.

April 26: In what ways can allistic people better accommodate you and other autistic people? What would you consider helpful?

I feel that if they understood that we can advocate for ourselves, that would help a lot. Also, understanding that it’s called a spectrum for a reason, and that no two autistic people are the same. Understanding our needs would help too, of course.

April 27: Do you have any vocal stims or echolalia? Can you give any examples?

I do vocal stims a lot! I talk to myself a lot in reaction to things (i.e. a YouTube video), and I often make squeaking noises when I’m happy! On the opposite of the emotional spectrum, when I’m upset or having a panic attack, I yell a lot with no specific words, especially when I’m nonverbal.

April 28: Are you LGBT? Discuss the intersection between both identities.

I am! I’m trans/nonbinary, polysexual and polyamorous! There’s not much intersection that I really notice, though going to events like pride can be overwhelming. Luckily there’s some smaller parades in my area, so I don’t have to put up with the stress of going to a huge event in the city.

April 29: Why is acceptance important? What does it mean to you?

Acceptance is extremely important in destigmatizing us and autism, and so people don’t think it’s acceptable to kill us and do things to us without our consent (i.e. surgery to make us infertile). If we’re viewed as humans, then we’ll be understood more, and be treated with compassion rather than hostility. We need to be accepted to be able to live our true lives, without fear of what could happen to us.