#autism is obvious with this one y'all...

[happi-tree]

midnight (close to you)

Taylor ❤️‍🔥                  just now u up

Lincoln grimaces at the 03:27 in bold numbers across the top of his screen before swiping on the message and unlocking his phone to type out a quick reply. 

Me                  Yeah. 

Lincoln is no stranger to seeing Taylor up at weird hours, but as he glances at past messages (filled on Taylor’s part with lots of exclamation points and cutesy little emotes), he suddenly feels a bit more awake. 

A chat bubble appears below, animated dots appearing and disappearing as he waits. 

Taylor ❤️‍🔥                   🕯️?

Me                  On it.

Or: Taylor has a bad night, and Lincoln tries his best to make it more bearable.

ao3

Swiftli time, lovebirds!!! Here’s my fic for day 5: demons/nightmares. Like days 1 and 3, this is part of the supernatural au @llumimoon, @kaseyskat, and I planned out together. Hope you enjoy!

(Title taken from "Sleep-walking" by Dreamcatcher).

Lincoln Li-Wilson is tossing and turning in a vain attempt at sleep when his phone buzzes.

Blearily, he wipes at his eyes as he focuses on the screen, wincing at the sudden brightness.

Taylor ❤️‍🔥                  just now

u up

Lincoln grimaces at the 03:27 in bold numbers across the top of his screen before swiping on the message and unlocking his phone to type out a quick reply. 

Me                 

Yeah. 

Lincoln is no stranger to seeing Taylor up at weird hours, but as he glances at past messages (filled on Taylor’s part with lots of exclamation points and cutesy little emotes), he suddenly feels a bit more awake. 

A chat bubble appears below, animated dots appearing and disappearing as he waits. 

Taylor ❤️‍🔥                  

🕯️?

Me                 

On it.

Lincoln pushes himself out of bed, making his way over to turn on his fairy lights (a joke gift from Normal, tiny pairs of butterfly wings casting the room in warm-tinted pinpricks of light) and opens one of his dresser drawers, pulling out the components he needs.

Next to go is the area rug, rolled up and pushed to the side to uncover the large pentagram painted into the floor, encircled by runes Lincoln had checked and double-checked, written in Taylor’s steady hand. 

He places the red taper candles in the direction of each of the four winds, scatters coarse salt atop the inked circle (a formality at this point, but he can never be too careful). He fumbles with the lighter, trying a few times before remembering to shut off the ceiling fan. 

Lincoln makes sure to crack the door open (the increasingly invasive questions from both of his dads had been downright embarrassing the last time they did this and he is not in the mood for a repeat experience). They won’t mind, he knows.

Besides, there are many worse things a teenage boy like Lincoln could be doing than ritually summoning a demon. Half-demon. Whatever. 

At each point of the star, he places small offerings: an unopened box of strawberry crunch Pocky; a Garfield plush (which he deeply hopes Taylor will give back to him, since it’s one of his favorites); a room-temperature Ramune; a sparkly sticker; a homemade charm bracelet (no iron or silver, of course, warded for protection and serenity). 

In the very center of the pentagram, Lincoln carefully places the Hatsune Miku keychain Taylor had lent him for this exact purpose.

Lincoln pricks his finger and lets a drop of blood fall to the outer edge of the circle, lets the sizzle of it drown out the soft mutterings of the incantation.

Five pinpricks of flame flare higher, brighter, and brilliant ribbons of fire spread outward to conjoin in the center of the circle. Lincoln watches warily as the ball of flame grows and grows, expanding outward and beginning to color with the reddish-magenta hue of his friend’s aura, casting the room in stark maroon shadows.

Before his eyes, the blaze grows brighter, burns hotter, practically pushing at the bounds of its ink-carved confinement, and Lincoln feels the heat lick at his face, warm against his cheeks.

As suddenly as it began, the light is extinguished, revealing the hunched pajama-clad form of Taylor amidst the embers and smoke, the faint cerise glow around him fading until he’s backlit by Lincoln’s fairy lights.

It’s an enchanting sight, normally, one that Lincoln cherishes, but not when Taylor’s glancing down at the painted floorboards with glossed-over eyes, trembling slightly.

“Hey,” Lincoln says, breaking the line of salt with a nudge of his socked foot, crawling forward until their knees touch.

A single, long strand of Taylor’s fringe is still aflame, so Lincoln leans inward and pinches it gently between his thumb and forefinger and extinguishes it with a hiss.

“Taylor,” Lincoln calls, voice hushed in the night but hopefully loud enough to get through to him. He tucks the midnight-dark strand behind the delicate, reddened point of Taylor’s ear.

When he doesn’t respond, doesn’t look up, worry settles further in his stomach, a leaden weight.

His hand cups his best friend’s face, carefully guiding upward until Taylor meets his gaze.

Glazed-over and deeply tired, Taylor stares blinkingly at him for a moment, eyes welling with tears.

“Hey,” Lincoln tries again, “what’s going o-” The air is knocked out of him in a quiet oof as Taylor lunges forward into his chest. He’s uncomfortably warm to the touch in such a way that would burn most people but only leaves Lincoln with a tingling sensation, kind of like sitting by a fireplace for a bit too long. He can feel the fabric of his sleep shirt growing wet where Taylor’s buried his face into his shoulder, and his arms come around to encircle his friend instinctively. 

“You’re burning up,” Lincoln frets as he touches the back of his hand to Taylor’s forehead. It feels like stretching his hands out over a bonfire rather than a candle, like usual, and he frowns at the way the heat pushes angrily against his wardings, making his hand glow a barely-perceptible gold. He frowns even deeper when Taylor only wriggles further into his arms, making a sad, distressed sort of sound.

Lincoln notices the way Taylor presses his ear into the left side of his chest, pushing against him like he’s searching out his heartbeat, and something in him twists a little. 

This floor can’t be comfortable for him, especially not when he’s shaking and breathing unevenly. 

Lincoln looks behind him, opens more of the salt circle with his bare foot, knocks over a crimson candle in the process.

Whatever, he’ll clean it up in the morning. 

“Gonna pick you up now, okay?” Lincoln murmurs, ducking his head so he doesn’t have to speak too loud and making sure to keep his voice slow and steady and reassuring.

Taylor nods against him, and Lincoln allows himself a shadow of a smile. 

“Good,” he says, and adjusts his hold, sliding one arm under Taylor’s knees and another along his back (beneath his shoulder blades, just in case). Something thin and warm coils itself around his forearm and squeezes, and Lincoln doesn’t need to look to know that Taylor’s wrapped his tail around him for support as his clawed hands scramble for purchase on his upper back. The fabric of Lincoln’s shirt shreds a little, but as always, Taylor’s scratching doesn’t manage to break through the latent magic just atop his skin. 

“Up we go!” Lincoln says, and Taylor clings to him even tighter as he holds his smaller friend aloft, carrying them both to his twin XL bed and depositing Taylor as gracefully as he can.

Which isn’t very graceful at all, since Taylor refuses to let go of him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Lincoln soothes - or at least tries to. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I just need you to let me go, ‘kay?”

Taylor shakes his head, mumbling something almost inaudible into his chest.

“What was that?” he says, even though he knows he heard the muffled no, not again the first time.

“Can’t,” Taylor says instead, leaving Lincoln leaning awkwardly over the edge of the bed, feeling oddly cold despite the feverish boy in his arms. 

“Okay,” Lincoln mutters, shifting his hold a little (because while Taylor is relatively easy to pick up, soccer has, admittedly, not done much for his arm strength). “Can I move my hand so you can hold it, maybe? So I can be next to you?”

Taylor hums in the affirmative, so Lincoln slides a hand from beneath his friend’s back, and Taylor takes it the second it’s offered, clutching it with clawed fingers like a lifeline as Lincoln climbs into the narrow bed beside him.

That doesn’t last long, though, because Taylor is quick to throw an arm across Link’s shoulders and drape his leg across Lincoln’s own in a strange, full body half-hug. 

Lincoln hums a little in concern, worry pulling at his brow. Taylor really must not be feeling well with the way that every point of contact between them burns the tiniest bit, despite the layers and layers of enchantments and wards and immunities that have woven themselves into Lincoln’s cells.

Taylor’s head buries just below Link’s jaw, the way Normal tends to do when he’s feeling needy or sad and wants their pack’s scent around him. His horns, still growing by the day, clip against the side of Lincoln’s face harmlessly as he shuffles into him. 

Lincoln takes a minute to marvel at the close bond he has with his friends that defies human description. To go from having nobody his own age to talk to, much less be around, to having three people who care about him - despite rocky introductions - who love him enough to call him family, to be pack, to choose him, to come to him for comfort and camaraderie, to want him… it’s a lot.

 Sometimes, if Lincoln thinks about it too hard, the way his friends give him affection so freely - the way Normal nearly tackles him to the ground with the force of his hug and calls him by Name when the world gets to be too much, the way Scary leans into him without hesitation, the way Taylor curls into him now without reigning in his infernal traits - he could almost cry.

Taylor’s tail wraps around Lincoln’s waist, steadfast and needy, the spaded tip of it thumping irregularly against Lincoln’s side. 

They rest like that for several moments that seem simultaneously like an instant and like they stretch on into eternity, eons passing with each movement of Lincoln’s fingers through Taylor’s sleep-mussed hair.

Since Lincoln can’t really look at Taylor without craning his neck awkwardly, he chooses a spot on the ceiling to stare at, reveling in the feeling of Taylor cuddling up against him and taking obviously deep, slow breaths so that Taylor can match them. The heat at his side slowly abates from almost-singeing to a comforting warmth, and just as slowly, Taylor’s breath evens out from where it fans against his neck.

Lincoln lets the relative silence wash over him, waiting.

“Link?” Taylor asks, voice slightly muffled. 

(Taylor’s lips brush against the side of Lincoln’s throat in a way that makes his breath catch, sends his heart fluttering in his chest, but that’s not something he wants to think too hard about right now.)

“Yeah?” he responds quietly, and thankfully his voice doesn’t sound too strangled as he whispers.

“Thanks.” Taylor doesn’t look up, doesn’t let go, but he’s relaxed more fully into Lincoln’s side rather than grasping in a desperate panic. 

“Anytime, man.” It’s amazing, the way Taylor’s presence can warm him from the inside out without even trying, without even factoring in his demonic abilities.

Lincoln doesn’t press for answers. 

At this point, he doesn’t really need to. It’s become something of a routine for them over the past few months - whenever Taylor is left in an empty house and craves company, whenever Lincoln is feeling a little too cold, whenever sleep eludes them, the summoning circle is there, just to the side of Lincoln’s bed, and suddenly, things are a little less lonely.

Sometimes, Taylor wants to talk. Sometimes, he keeps to himself, and Lincoln tries not to let it worry him too much.

Anxiety meds are great for that, but the haunted look in his friends’ eyes is an unknown that Lincoln can’t protect them from, can only try his best to understand, fumbling and human as he is. 

“I, uh. Had a bad dream,” Taylor starts, tucking his head out of Lincoln’s neck to face him.

Ah. Tonight falls in the former category, then.

“Yeah?” Lincoln hears himself say, though he had figured as much.

“Yeah. Really, uh. Really bad.”

Taylor’s voice sounds so small in the mostly-dark quiet of the room. 

Lincoln squeezes their hands, still conjoined, a tiny, wordless reassurance.

“You’re safe now,” Lincoln tells him. “My dad’s warded this entire house like crazy.”

Taylor scoffs. “Yeah, like I could forget after the first time you snuck me in.”

“I thought we agreed we would never talk about that again,” Lincoln responds, mock-shuddering.

“You begged me not to bring it up, I promised nothing. Not the same thing.”

Lincoln likes seeing Taylor’s smile again, even if it’s just the barest flash of fang glinting in the soft glow of his distant fairy lights. Even when it fades a few seconds later.

Taylor’s tail squeezes around Lincoln’s middle, and Lincoln brings a hand to rest on his shoulder.

“Hey,” He murmurs. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Taylor laughs again, but it’s a shaky, mirthless sound, this time.

“I know you wouldn’t,” He says quietly. Then, “You didn’t, in my dream. You, uh, died.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says.

“Didn’t wanna bother you with it, but you were awake, and it’s stupid, but…” Taylor’s voice trails off.

Lincoln exhales, holds his friend closer.

“I wouldn’t wanna lose you, either,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, just between his horns.

Taylor’s warmth flares in his hold, just a little bit, and the corners of Lincoln’s lips turn up a fraction. Even despite everything, his best friend is incredibly easy to fluster. 

“There were… hunters,” he mumbles, looking down at Lincoln’s orange-and-black striped comforter, grasping for his hands and fidgeting with their loosely-locked fingers to distract Lincoln (and maybe himself, too) from the way his shoulders still tremble. “They were coming for us - Norm, Scary, Hermie. Me.”

Something in Lincoln’s stomach feels like it just twisted, and pressure builds behind his eyes - half-exhaustion, half-sorrow.

“Taylor - hey, Tay, look at me, please?”

Lincoln sees the way that Taylor’s downturned, red-tinged mahogany eyes brim with tears, threatening to spill over onto his cheeks.

Lincoln gently extricates a hand from Taylor’s grasp, brings it to rest under his chin, tilting it upward until they are face to face again and he can peer into his eyes.

Taylor’s eyes have a fire lit behind them, one he’s always noticed in the back of his mind before either of them were aware of his demonic heritage. It’s captivating, the way that they catch in the light, spark to match the bright burn of Taylor’s convictions. Again and again, they’ve drawn Lincoln in like a moth to a flame, crimson-brown-black and enchanting in an entirely different way than anything of the fae.

Lincoln thinks he would jump into the fire and set himself ablaze if it meant that he would never have to see the light behind his eyes shrink to the pinpricks that he sees now.

Hot tears stream down Taylor’s cheeks, silent except for the small hiss the droplets make as they hit the fabric of Lincoln’s bedspread.

Lincoln thumbs the rest away as Taylor leans into the affection, catlike, and the thing in Lincoln’s stomach writhes again.

“Taylor,” he says again, “Look at me.”

Dark eyelashes flutter open, and Taylor looks so, so tired, so haunted.

(Lincoln’s seen that look before on the face of someone else he loves, and he’d give anything to never see it on either of them again.)

“I need you to listen to me.”

Lincoln has… a hard time making eye contact, sometimes, but this is important, so he stares into his friend’s eyes, doesn’t back off or let his gaze slide away. 

“You know my family wouldn’t let that happen. That - my dad - it’s his whole thing, you know?”

“Your dad wasn’t there,” Taylor says. “Just you.”

“Then I wouldn’t let that happen. You know I wouldn’t, if it came down to it.”

“I know,” Taylor replies, miserably. “That’s the problem.”

Oh.

“The jackass - in my dream, y’know - the guy that shot you, you know what he said? He said that it was a shame that he had to waste a silver bullet on a pesky human. That it was sad that we’d, like, magicked you into siding with us. Which was so fucked up and I - I couldn’t move, I was so angry. And scared, god, I was terrified, and Norm and Scary were, too, and then it all went black, and-”

“And you woke up?” Lincoln guessed.

“Yeah,” Taylor says. “Nearly melted my phone trying to text you.”

Lincoln frowns, scooches closer to him. Rests a hand on Taylor’s cheek, leans in to press their foreheads together.

Taylor’s horns poke uncomfortably against his skull, but Lincoln ignores it - besides, with all of the immunities he’s built up, the pain barely registers.

“I’m here,” Lincoln says.

“I know,” Taylor responds, and his voice is hoarse.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You - Link, you can’t just say that. I know you’ve got some weird, fucked-up magic shit protecting you, but you’re human, and I’m -”

“Half-human,” Lincoln reminds him, not unkindly. “You didn’t ask for this.”

“Well, you didn’t, either!”

“I know,” Lincoln responds. “We’re both new to this, and there’s horrible people out there that have it out for us, and we just gotta… live with that.”

“It’s not fair,” Taylor groans, resting his face in the crook of Lincoln’s neck again.

“It isn’t,” Lincoln agrees as he begins to card fingers through warm, dark hair. Taylor makes a soft, whispery sort of sound like the crackling of a campfire, resonating from his chest in the demonic equivalent of purring. 

“You’re right. I’m human, even if I’m harder to mess with than most,” Lincoln says. “But I chose this, at least a little bit. I chose you, all of you. And I’m not gonna back out. We’re in this together, dude. As long as you’ll have me?”

“You say that like it’s a question. I’ll always want you. I’m a selfish bitch like that.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my best friend like that,” Lincoln teases, and presses another kiss to the top of Taylor’s head for emphasis.

He chuckles. “You keep that up, and people are gonna think we’re more than best friends.”

“Pretty allonormative of you, Taylor,” Lincoln snipes. “Plus, I don’t see anyone else here…”

“Well, then, I guess I can retaliate without an audience,” Taylor responds, and Lincoln can hear the familiar mischief in his voice.

“Retal- ah,” the air leaves Lincoln’s lungs as Taylor presses his lips against the side of his neck, purposefully lets a fang graze against the delicate skin there.

“Mm,” Taylor hums. Lincoln can feel the vibration of it against his throat, and the sound goes straight to his head, warm and sleep-fuzzed and more than a little deliriously dizzy.

“Sorry,” Taylor says, not sounding the least bit apologetic as he pulls away after a moment with a soft popping sound. “You were saying?”

Taylor’s tail sways back and forth behind him, giving him the appearance of a predator ready to pounce.

“Guh,” Lincoln responds intelligibly, trying to get his brain back online. “You’re the worst, sometimes, you know that? Like, I was going somewhere with that, and then - you -”

“I am pretty insufferable, huh,” Taylor says with a close-lipped grin, sounding far too self-satisfied.

“Guess I’ll just have to suffer you, then,” Lincoln replies with a small grin of his own, dragging Taylor down into his arms.

Taylor gives in easily, tail brushing against the side of Lincoln’s leg affectionately.

“Taking one for the team,” Lincoln says. “I’m pretty good at that.”

“Too good,” Taylor says, looking up at him from the circle of his arms. “I don’t need you throwing yourself into the, like, line of fire for me when I’m immune, yeah?”

“The dream wasn’t real, you know.”

“Could be, someday,” Taylor muses, and though the tear tracks have evaporated from his face, there’s still a twist of uncharacteristic melancholy in his expression. 

Lincoln hums. “Well, in the meantime, maybe we can protect each other? And the others. That sound okay?” he asks. “Because I’m not gonna stop having your back anytime soon.”

“Same here,” Taylor says. “You’re ours, and anyone who comes at us can take you away over my dead body.”

“Possessive,” Link notes, pointedly ignoring the way his heart jolts. “And kinda morbid.” “Eh, it’s a demon thing, I think,” Taylor shrugs. 

“Dork.”

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda hot.” 

“Taylor, you’re part demon. Being hot is your thing.”

“Oh, so I’m attractive to you, huh? What are you gonna do, kiss me about it?” There’s a single fang poking out of Taylor’s smile, and Lincoln fails not to think about the way it felt brushing over his pulse.

“Maybe. If we both go to sleep after this.”

Taylor blinks lazily at him. “Sleep sounds nice,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Think you could keep the nightmares away?” His eyes, as tired as they are, are so deep and dark and beautiful.

“I’ve got a few charms for that,” Lincoln answers, pointing around the room at bundles of herbs and twine and rune-inscribed parchment that Marco had strung up along corners of the ceiling.

“Link, I was trying to be flirty.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says. Then, “So if I kiss you, you’ll go to sleep?”

“Mm, that can be arranged,” Taylor agrees, his tail snaking around to tap against Lincoln’s nose affectionately before wrapping around his waist.

“Good,” Lincoln breathes, and he leans in to meet Taylor halfway. 

In the end, Lincoln loses count of how many lazy kisses they exchange in the faint glow of the fairy lights before they succumb to slumber, but when he wakes, Taylor is still in his arms, a faint smile on his face in his sleep.

Lincoln can feel his face mirror the expression as he wipes a bit of Taylor’s drool away with the back of his hand. He leans down and ghosts his lips over Taylor’s temple, tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear, filled with an uncomfortable-yet-comforting warmth wherever their bodies overlap.

Lincoln basks in it as he closes his eyes again, resting against the pillows, and knows that whatever dangers lurk ahead, they’ll face them together. 

[evangelifloss]

Thinking about a certain scene in Dungeon Meshi that completely encapsulates the Autistic experience of making friends as an adult and how hard it is to try and navigate it without ending up getting hurt.

Like IDK about y'all, but this is a common problem ALOT of Autistic Adults face when trying to make friends with other people, because unlike children who aren't good at keeping their opinions to themselves, Adults ARE. In society, we're even encouraged to "keep the peace" "be polite" and etc, which commonly leads to awful scenarios as shown above when Laois finds out his buddy has come to resent who Laois is without actually telling him. All too often the friends that we love to hang out with, people that we're so happy to spend time with, don't feel the same way and in many cases, come to blame us for our social cues or lack thereof.

And when/if we do eventually find out how our friend feels, Dungeon Meshi hits us with another painful panel of how that usually ends up playing out.

It's hard for Adults with Autism to make friends, and even harder to maintain them because alot of the ways Neurotypicals tell other Neurotypicals that they don't like a certain behavior is by quietly disengaging. Whether that involves having one sentence answers, going quiet, or having a certain tone in their voice, all those things signal annoyance or disapproval, but for the Neurodivergents, those subtle cues are completely missed.

And yet when we inevitably discover we DID do something, it is natural to ask "well why didn't you tell me?" because in our minds, it should've been the next step in the equation. However for the Neurotypicals, that's NOT something to bring up. Its important to be SUBTLE about the issue at hand and rely on signals to tell the other person. Blame is placed on us for not noticing the "obvious" signs of disapproval rather than the idea of talking it out as such things are uncomfortable and harder to do. Alot of the time what ends up happening is resentment due to the idea that it was "obvious" and the fact one didn't notice indicates a deliberate ignorance rather than a complete unawareness. It ends up calling into question our quality as a person and our sincerity. We get called "fake" or "malicious" or even "stupid" for failing social cues rather than questioning the decision to be indirect and vague.

For a manga about exploring the dungeon, it seems that the artist would rather explore very real and prevalent dynamics in society with the adventuring premise as a backdrop. I felt VERY seen in these panels, and many others, because it happens so suddenly and dare I say it, plainly. There's no dramatic build-up or spectacle made and in essence, it just Happens.

I think that's what makes the scene hit even harder. It seemingly comes out of nowhere for Laois, like how it always comes out of nowhere for alot of people, and it's never a dramatic twist either. It's always mundane and hurtful. A sudden unforeseen bump in the road that ends up calling into question one's entire friendship with someone and consequent other friendships. It asks "what if other friends feel the same. What if the people that I really like actually hate me and I don't know it?" Or at least that's what I came away with after reading the chapter. I've been where Laois was and the only reason I'm not there now is because I lost the naivete I had and doubt everyone else's sincerity.

[drawbudd]

Shoutout to the socially anxious or neurodivergent kings and queens that say absolutely nothing all class but answer when the whole class doesn't know an answer you are carrying this class

[skrunksthatwunk]

man ok so I've been trying to be more attentive to the way my body feels bc apparently i feel bad way more than i really notice and man i feel so goofy stupid about it

wait, maybe I'm visually sensitive?? what a shock!! i thought everyone had moments where they wished they were blind as a kid. i thought everyone felt better when they broke their glasses bc there was less detail and it made things less overwhelming. i thought everyone had to lie in the dark for a couple hours every day just to feel normal. i thought everyone's eyes hurt when they went outside even if it was cloudy. i thought everyone preferred looking at things via peripheral vision bc it's less direct. i thought everyone wore black every day so their eyes have somewhere to rest on. what the hell is this normal???? is it????? probably not right???????? what the hell

like i just didn't realize i felt bad until i felt better?? i never considered that i could be any of these things bc no one told me to pay attention to it and ignoring it was easier. and even when i did it was kind of a :/ feeling like a 3/10 discomfort peaking at 6/10 all day and then "hey wow why can't I do anything now that I'm home" like,, dipshit it's bc you're in hell what. maybe your idea of a 3/10 isn't right ya moron

oh maybe i don't feel as brain staticy after walking through the halls if i play music. it's almost as if it's overwhelming and bad. and i already knew that but i always get stuck not doing things differently so i didn't bother bc i could tolerate it (probably by dissociating tbh) and wow yeah now that i am it's just. easier. sheesh

oh, i can feel my bone marrow retreating into my body whenever i touch wet clothes? noted. can't actually do much about that one but it's the thought that counts

it even goes for nonsensory stuff like stimming and communication. maybe THATS why i wish so badly that i could communicate nonverbally (esp ASL, seems super useful), why it feels So Wrong To Talk sometimes. maybe THATS why i gotta move and/or make noise like 70% of the time and always have in some way. maybe THATS why i can't understand people if they're muffled/have an accent I'm not familiar with/if multiple ppl are talking, and why there's a delay in processing, and why i can't watch things without subtitles. hell hell ass hell hell hell etc

and a lotta this is only stuff i realized bc i started looking into various flavors of neurodivergency. still not really willing to self diagnose until i do more legit big boy research but at the very least apparently I'm onto SOMETHING if these realizations keep happening. like even if I'm neurotypical and faking it or just quirky or whatever it's making my life better to pay attention to how i feel for once so..? yeah it's productive ig. i swear this is a positive post guys

and a lot of it's easier realizing people don't usually mean 100% universal literal inability when they're talking about not being able to do stuff or when they experience things really strongly. sometimes stuff is just disproportionately hard or rare for someone. shit man idk. doesn't mean they ain't disabled or nd or whatever and, therefore, it doesn't mean i can't be just bc i used to be able to do my homework before the deadline :/ when ppl have special interests it doesn't mean they only think about one thing for their entire lives hell ass of course not why would you think that. jeez.

anyway i swear this is a good silly thing even though the tone is a bit mad(?) but sometimes it's just baffling the way I've lived my entire life. clown behavior. what is wrong with me. shape up there bud

[anameistoohard]

Hello! We thought it might be good to have a pinned post so y'all can know a bit about us.

I guess start with the obvious thanks to that title: We are a we.

The bit less obvious: We are one person :p We learned we were a system in September 2022. There's a bunch of us in here but not everyone fronts. The ones that do often have a lot of identity confusion/blendyness so we don't usually specify who's speaking. If you don't know, you can refer to us by the body's name, Taylor, and the pronouns we us irl, she/her.

We are also a trans woman: Or at least... the body is? It's complicated. The majority of us are girls/strongly fem leaning but we have some guys and enbies in here too. We started hrt in October 2021 so we were already a year into it when we learned about our system. After a lot of questioning we came to the consensus that we should continue hrt. The guys are willing to put up with it and overall we are quite happy with the changes.

Autism and dyslexia: These make our writing a bit stilted/disjointed sounding sometimes. The two of them combined can make socializing online exhausting, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it (anxiety is no help either). If we don't respond right away, or at all, just know we're sorry 💜

Art! The reason you're probably here lol: We create art in just about the most inefficient way possible, in ms Paint, where there are no layers, you can only rotate in 90° intervals, and if you try to resize a picture it becomes a blurry pixilated mess. And we do so without a drawing tablet. When we make pixel art we're manually placing squares one at a time. But there's something kind of soothing about this slow monotonous inefficiency. We mostly do pixel art, but sometimes we make comics, or just whatever we feel like making.

If you have any questions, this is an open invitation to ask: Curiosity is a good thing! Don't worry if you're using the "wrong" language or you think something might be too personal, as long as you're respectful and kind, feel free to ask us anything about us/our experiences/our art. If we don't want to answer we don't have to, so there's no harm in asking. Just please don't turn to us for links/resources, we're not good at keeping track of that kind of stuff.

Written by Mark (they/them), Danny (he/him), and Taylor (she/her)

(Edit: I guess we should mention we have a twitter too)

[sunthyme]

LAST PART!!! WE'RE IN THE HOME STRETCH, BOIS! Thank y'all so much, I know I keep saying it but I really appreciate y'all sm. The next post I do will feature my Yuusona or Prefect design and some headcanons featuring it. After that, I'll give y'all some options to see whatcha'll want. Now for...

🌹Diasomnia🌹

The disclaimer from Ignihyde is still in effect here, most of my headcanons are either because it looked cool or sounded cool lmao.

First up is...

🐉Malleus Draconia🐉

(he/she/they/it any basically) Agender - Panromantic Asexual

*giggles, kicks feet, twirls hair* Mal... Anyways! Some of y'all probably been waiting for this one! My silly fae prince, whose identity may or may not be based on my own. Sue me, this bitch is hella relatable.

- So, onto the headcanons, I felt like Mal wasn't all that intimidating when he first popped up outside our house. Idk, I see a cat-type personality and all my self preservation is thrown out the nearest window. She's just a big meow. But I wanted them to actually look rather intimidating, making his bangs cover his eyes a bit more, darker makeup, whatnot.

- I know Mal is canonically taller than the rest of the cast but Imma make her even taller. Its 6'6" without the horns and like 6'11 or 7' with them. I want them to be a cryptid!! Also the height difference with Lilia bout to be crazy.

- I like the idea that my prefect made her some lil Howl's Moving Castle earrings, even though it obvious doesn't exist in their world. Or maybe it does??? Who knows.

- *scientist voice* The autism is this subject is astronomical. *cough* Yeah, it's also not up for debate. The gargoyles, the general demeanour. Yuu is their favoured person.

- Malleus and my prefect would probably interact a little differently than Yuu does canonically, as we're both silly little autistic people, but I'll save that for my Yuusona post lol.

- Really tempted to throw in that it has a forked tongue. Does have fangs but Mal and Jamil probably both have forked tongues, j st for funsies.

- Loves to read sappy romance novels, is giggling and kicking her feet at soulmate stuff in particular. Has a whole list of little date ideas in a notebook (totally not saying this because /I/ have one or anything)...

Not mush else to say give I've only canonically interacted with her like three times but now for everyone's favourite grandpa!

🦇Lilia Vanrouge🦇

(he/she) - Bisexual

- Teehee! So I saw someone headcanons Lilia as Indian and I was SO here for it, though I think he's be half Indian, half Mexican or smth.

- Gave this girl SO many piercing. I feel like she got them 'cause she was bored. Idk, 500 years is pretty old, ya gotta spice things up some how.

- Some scars from 'ye old days'(tm) and I made his hair a bit wavy and added a green gradient to the ends, just to mimick Malleus' hair. Also, this bitch stands a proud 5'3" on a good day (aka with heels).

- He's the kind of dad that makes his kids wear matching pjs during the winter holidays and while he knows his kids like the back of his hand, chooses to give them silly gifts most of the time. Also, he spoils Mal and Silver rotten.

- Absolutely tries to get Malleus to properly flirt with MC but it never works out like he plans. Silver just watches with mild amusement.

Speaking of Silver,

🗡️Silver Vanrouge🗡️

(he/they) Demiboy - Achillic Asexual

- Yes, I was mad he doesn't canonically have a last name. I figured that Lilia would have officially adopted him at some point or another and typically you need a last name for a lot of things so I just gave them Lilia's.

- I think that Silver's gray hair is natural and once it gets to be a certain length, it just becomes gray. Additionally, Lilia's a cool dad so Silver got dyed ends and piercings too.

- I actually headcanon that Silver's blind and has narcolepsy (though that's pretty much canon). It was likely from birth or manifested early on and as a result, Malleus is a bit protective of Silver (and Sebek is too but he'd never admit it lol). He has a service dog, which is probably a cute golden retriever named Aurora, and records lectures to listen back to. He, Kalim, and Ruggie have little study groups as second years. Also, Silver's autistic. Lilia really out here collecting autistic children lmaooo.

- He really likes to knit. Don't ask why but I think he'd enjoy the rhythym of it. (He's made Ruggie and Kalim scarves and both treasure them a ton) He likes to make blankets for Malleus and Lilia as well as himself. He loves to work with the chunkier and softer yarns, especially because it makes keeping track of the stitches easier.

- Owes SO MANY plushies. His bed is half dedicated to them, most probably give to him by Lilia for birthdays and holidays. He loves soft things so all the plushies are like squishmellows and stuff.

Ah, I love Silver. Onto our last canon character,

🐊Sebek Zigvolt🐊

(he/him) - Achillic

Oh boy, this design was such a pain. I literally had to redo it because I didn't like it. Though, in the end, I think it turned out pretty neat.

- On with the physical stuff, I fucked around with his skin tone a bit because it did not look right with his hair in my og design which had a more lime, yellowy green instead of the mint. I made it warmer and ditched the yellow green for the original design's mint, just darker. Finally, I thought I needed a kick of something so I gave him some violet streaks and eyes and BOOM! A Sebek!

- I gave him a bit of a rounder face, I feel like he wouldn't have outgrown his baby chub yet, and a single dimple. I thought it'd be super cute, sue me. Cute lil freckles, the works.

- One thing I am super proud of was his Lichtenburg scar (I believe that's what it's called, I've only really heard in in TMA oops). While I certainly didn't do it justice here, I'll be fleshing it out at some point. I think it's a cool addition to the character based on lighting, maybe his magic accidentally hit him or damaged him at some point idk.

- He is, wait for it... also autistic. Shocker, pun intended. He's actually AuDHD to me and has issues with volume regulation, which is real idk. Would actually also be sensitive to loud noise, as backwards as that sounds. Has noise-cancelling headphones courtesy of Idia. Malleus is his favoured person and he looks up to him a lot.

- Grew up loving dragons and thinking they were like the coolest fcuking things then met Mal and was in awe. Was a totally nerd about dragons as a kid and still has figures and posters and whatnot.

God, I love the Diasomnia characters sm omgggg. It's time for my ocs!

🪡Thumbelina Souster🪡

Third Year - (they/she) Genderqueer - Pansexual

She looks like Zelda. I know... but she's pretty!

- Thumbelina is 'twisted' from the loom in the story of Sleeping Beauty. IF EPEL IS LITERALLY AN APPLE, she can be a loom. Anyhow, I made her a fae as well, likely one of the craft fairies, just taking on a more human-sized form. She takes a ton of inspo from the og story of Thumbelina, as a tiny little fae she got separated from her kin and raised by human parents. That's why she doesn't have the 'ick' about humans that most fae have.

- When she got accepted to NRC, Crowley gave her access to a potion that changes her size so she'd be able to attend school easier. Her parents were tailors and so she grew up around sewing but could never do it because of how tiny she was. When she changed sizes, she immediately wanted to try her hand at sewing, official joining (or maybe founding) the sewing club.

- After intially joining Diasomnia and seeing Lilia's piercings, they piqued her curiosity and she got some.

- As a fae, she loves to be outdoors and tends to a garden outside of the dorm. She also rather oblivious when some expresses interest in her as she's not familiar with human courting. Lilia adopts yet another autistic child lmao.

For another character based on something mildly abstract...

🥀Munkh Sarnai🥀

Second Year - (they/he/she) Genderfluid - Asexual Aromantic

- Munkh is my character for the thorns that encircled Aurora's castle. Minorly abstract but hey, cool ass character design.

- They're Mongolian and I wanted the spikey aspect to really shine through, giving them liberty spikes thanks to my friend's suggestion! Wanted to go really punk especially because I haven't really done so in a character design before and I LOVE IT!

- She was originally going to have a Maleficent colour palette for the spikes but it was getting too close to some of the other designs so I made it black and red to emulate roses.

- He's a part of the music club as well, likely a vocalist or drummer. He loves the energy and the people are really cool, plus obviously his vice housewarden's there.

- They're also on the athletic side and enjoy various sports, namely Spelldrive. Also, she does own her own blastcycle and immediately bonds with Deuce over a shared love of them. Deuce and Munkh like this 🤞.

Last but not least...

⏰Kyra Delano⏰

First Year - (she/her) - Sapphic

Pspsps... TMA fandom... pspsps Delano...

- Kyra's my oc twisted from Tick Tock, the alligator(?) from Peter Pan. I gave her the yellow-green from my original Sebek design and it looks way better here.

- I think as a reference to the clock and like 'ticking', she'd have Tourette's. It sometimes flares up more than others so she has an agreement with the teachers about class times where it's acting up.

- I think she'd have like mild beef with Josephina because they met on a wrong foot during orientation but it's not a huge deal. Probably sleep-deprived Josephina said something insulting Diasomnia and Kyra was like, "What the hell?". They have a friendly competition going on now, every gym class.

- She's a part of the track and field club and is one of the fastest on the team. That being said, she's not a huge fan of physical activity and prefer to read in the library or study.

Head's up, I lied. This isn't the last post. I have to do the staff and extra character like Neige, Che'nya, and Cheka. Plus Grim. I tricked you >:). Mayhaps it'll be up tomorrow... love y'all!🩷🩷🩷

[keicordelle]

Yuki and Performativity: the autistic mask

(aka the analysis I've been trying to figure out how to format for like 3 weeks)

Okay, so now that Yuki's autism has been ~established~ (here, but I'm just going to pretend everyone was following along), I'm really really interested in the subtle ways that that presents itself in his characterization.

Because Re:member does a really great job of making it obvious, because it's written in Yuki's perspective (at least in vol 2) and so heavily flavored with his own though process. But It's equally present in his characterization in the anime (and I assume the game, but I'm not caught up so we're just going based on the anime here). And a lot of that time, that characterization is so delightfully subtle that I didn't even pick up on it the first time through. But now I'm obsessed and I'm Noticing Things and y'all must suffer with me. so.

I think it's fair to say that Yuki's blunt and cold nature are features of his autism. Also probably the fact that he is extremely awkward when it comes to emotions and, notably for this discussion, expressing them. (oh to be a fire extinguisher)

But he's also really good at acting. And I'm making some assumptions here based on my own experiences, but I figure this comes in large part from the amount of effort he puts into trying to read others. He picks apart other people's interactions to figure out why they're reacting certain ways because he doesn't Get It.

And so he uses that in his every day life. Like, you wouldn't really figure someone so extremely autistic and introverted would make for a very good idol, what with the whole "having to interact with people all day every day" thing -- and he didn't want to be an idol! He just wanted to make his music and have people appreciate it! In fact, he looked down on idols at first, which probably had more to do with him undervaluing their artistic integrity (or at least I imagine that's how he would frame it), but he is very explicit about how he doesn't like how people fawn over him (read: idols) because of their looks rather than on the merits of the music.

Anyway. One of the key features of his characterization is that he's always acting. Always. There are a handful of moments we see him in the anime where he's not playing a role, even and particularly when he's off stage.

I've talked before (here) about Re:vale's introduction and how from the very first moment we see them, they're On. Not just in their initial prank on i7 where they pretend to be serious and scary, but also in the bubbly happy personas they present afterwards. They drop one mask for another, and at no point are they ever not wearing their idol stage personas. This is relevant to i7 for reasons but for this discussion rant it's relevant because this is how Yuki engages with the world. There are only a handful of times where we ever see him truly drop his guard -- usually only when he's alone with Momo, and occasionally around Yamato, which will be relevant in a bit. (And one other very notable time towards the end of season 3, but we'll get there.)

Anyway. He's only ever comfortable when he's playing a role. Which is never explicitly established, and I love it all the more for that, because they're totally content to just let you pick up on that without shoving it in your face. But they introduce it in ways that are subtler than I even thought at first. Because at first I was like, "okay, well he's got his stage ikemen persona, and he's got his sillier tsukkomi routine, and he's got his darker prankster who genuinely seems to be enjoying your discomfort persona (which is probably the one among them that's closest to his reality, because he really does seem to enjoy teasing and making people uncomfortable even when he's not On)

But literally any time he has to engage with someone, he falls back on a performance. A myriad of them, in as many different faces as he needs. And even when he tries to be genuine, he'll fall back on that performative role as soon as someone offers him an out. He will become whatever other people need or want him to be, so long as it doesn't involve being himself.

We see this particularly clearly while Yamato's struggling with his role in Mission and Yuki comes to him in a genuine effort to help

You can see the transformation in Yuki's face : Yamato has offered him a role, and he is now going to take that and run with it.

He steps into that role as easily as that, and from there on out, everything he says, while still true to his own beliefs, is very heavily shaded by his new performance as a criminal psychologist. It makes it easier for him to express himself, because he's no longer Yukito Orikasa, fumbling his way through emotions that he's been told time and again that he doesn't express properly, he's Yuki, criminal psychologist, and that's something he can figure out how to be.

You can even see it in his gestures; from then on, they get extremely dramatic, very much what you'd expect in a stage play (moreso even than in a movie). Which works well considering this is an anime and dramatic gestures suit the medium, and that's probably part of why I didn't really notice that at first. Even his tone becomes more dramatic. You can hear it flowing up and down the scale of emotion, rather than his usual low, teasing edge. Really great direction all around tbh

We see this same sort of transformation in the next episode, while Yamato's staying with him, and honestly this scene makes it a whole lot clearer. Yuki does actually start off more himself in this episode because he's in his own home. He doesn't really want to go out of his way for Yamato, he's mostly helping him out of obligation, so the mask slips a bit.

He flits in and out of a couple different personas fairly rapidly at the start of their interaction. Even Yamato remarks on this, which I actually didn't realize until just now when I was skimming through to find the shot I wanted to reference. He's never fully seen Yuki with his metaphorical hair down before, and the change is remarkable

He offers Yamato some advice, rather against his own will. His countdown here is his "speak now if you want me to listen to your problems or else I'm leaving" ultimatum, and he fully intended to when he gets to zero. But he doesn't (which I think surprises them both), and when Yamato calls out to him, he stops and actually offers genuine advice, no persona there to filter it. And it's harsh, like he usually is when he's unfiltered, because he's Autistic As Fuck and doesn't really know how to be anything else no matter how hard he tries (as is very explicitly laid out in Re:member : he has tried, hard, and he just can't figure it out)

And then he immediately falls into another role, when it's clear he's going to be trapped in this conversation that he doesn't really want to be having. Which is equal parts to soothe himself and to piss of Yamato, I think. Maybe heavier on the piss-off-Yamato side of things, because for all that he's helping him, they really really don't like each other, and Yuki's really kind of an asshole at heart

And from here on out he fully embraces the mocking asshole persona he's chosen to adopt. The same thing happens: he becomes more expressive both in voice and gesture, and it both softens the blow of the harsh things he says and makes it worse.

And you can then see the exact moment Yuki realizes that he's Fucked Up this conversation and pushed things much much further than he expected or intended to

(a shot which is on the screen for like less than half a second and that I had to clip and go frame by frame through to get because my own autism is now Activated)

The next scene is, I think, rather intentionally ambiguous (at least at the start) as to how genuine Yuki's responses are. It's fairly well established that, despite his aichmophobia, Yuki doesn't really have a ton of self-preservation instinct when it comes to fights, so it's seems entirely reasonable that his continued efforts to poke at the already enraged bear are just, what he'd do and not a persona he's putting on

However, it becomes clearer further into the scene that this is indeed another performance for him. First here, somewhat subtly, where in the actual line of dialogue, he calls Yamato "Yamato-bocchan", which, while appropriately mocking, also places him very firmly in a role other than his natural disposition.

From here on out, it becomes fairly clear to me that he's reverted back to his role from Mission. Yukito Orikasa is shed once more (if he was ever truly present here), and Yuki the Criminal Psychologist has taken his place. Yamato's breakdown follows a similar script to his character's here, though his is genuine -- but Yuki reads the similarities and falls back into his psychologist role.

He then offers Yamato some advice that actually references Shizuo's own words, which is... a huge Dick Move in this moment but that is actually a super neat and subtle reference, especially because he genuinely thinks he's helping.

he's not.

And this part is fun because it then becomes a lot less clear if Yamato's clued in to the role he's playing and is now playing along with his part in the movie, or if he's really just genuinely doing this (it's the latter, but it teases the possibility for most of the scene)

But anyway, the point kind of got away from me. You see Yuki fall back on this acting any time he's in a situation he doesn't know how to handle -- or, well. Not just then, actually. Pretty much in any situation. He's more comfortable pretending to be someone else than he is being himself, and he'll default to that whenever he can get away with it. He maintains it even when he's alone with Momo a lot of the time (I have an headcanon about Momo knowing what it is he's doing and allowing him it, as a sort of kindness)

Of course, his dealings with Yamato are hardly the only time we see this so clearly presented. He draws any number of roles over him like a mask, and falls into whichever suits his needs -- perhaps most notably at the very end of season 3, where he dons the caricature persona of a thug in order to try to protect Momo. Which is, uh. Maybe not the best idea he's ever had but hey, it works, kind of, so more power to you, Yuki.

He (arguably) adopts this same sort of thuggy image earlier in the season, for much the same reasons, when he waits outside Ryo's apartment with a baseball bat (that he definitely does not know how to use).

However! Of particular interest is the scene where he confronts Touma, where he's actually not assuming some sort of role. This scene is pure, unadulterated Yuki, and that frightens Touma and Torao exactly the same way as it puzzled Yamato above.

This scene itself is more a commentary on his relationship with Momo than it is Yuki's performative nature, really, because it highlights very well the fact that he's willing to do anything for the sake of his partner. It's pretty clear to me that when he walks into the dressing room and when he first confronts Touma, he's not Yuki the Badass, he's Yukito Orikasa, desperately trying to track down his partner.

Like, this is very much Yuki's real personality, not one of his endless roles

And that is precisely what gives him the edge here. Touma and Torao are really not expecting him to be so cruel and careless. They're used to Idol Yuki, handsome and flippant and appeasing. Not Yukito, entirely willing to stomp all over the law if it means saving Momo from danger

This is one of the only times that Yuki lets his true colors shine so obviously true. Usually Momo or Rinto is there to remind him to be aware of his station and to keep himself in check, but Momo is in danger and Yuki Does Not Care about the consequences, because at the end of the day, he's cold and calculating and absolutely nothing like the friendly persona he puts on, and he's only really doing this because he's passionate about music, not because he loves being an idol

Anyway. I guess all that sums up into: Yuki, first among the Autists, hides behind different masks so often that everyone around him is startled when he drops them, including himself a lot of the time. And that the show (and presumably the game) does a really incredible job of presenting this incredibly subtly

[twistedsocials]

🔥🔥🔥idk if you're still taking answers about stuff we can go on about when it comes to the twst fandom but I got one!!

🔥🔥🔥how the fandom treats Sebek is just sad cause y'all either sexualise tf outta him or you guys find him annoying. y'all don't really look into his character or the entire idea of his character and realise how important he and his family are to the diasomnia family plot/lore!! and the way y'all call him annoying?? idk just always felt icky to me as i've always hc sebek to be autistic(because I always hc the characters I relate to a lot to be autistic) 😕😕 and the mf is 16, leave that boy alone stop sexualising him!! that is a minor!! do not make me pull up with that kendrick lamar song not like us!! y'all are weird!! anyways srry if this is too long but I've wanted to get this off my chest for a while because I really find Sebek to be a cool character and I hate how the fandom treats him. They ignore and make fun of him until they sexualise him.

I LOVE YOU FOR THIS/P

NO LITERALLY LIKE THERE’S TWO SIDES TO A CONVERSATION ABOUT SEBEK. THEY EITHER SEXUALIZE THE HELL OUT OF HIM OR BULLY HIM FOR HIS OBVIOUS AUTISTIC TRAITS (obsession with Malleus aka a hyperfixation or being too “loud” which is something I, as an autistic person, struggle with myself). Also dude he’s literally way more than just “angry malleus fan!!” like no he would not get jealous at Yuu for being close to Malleus in fact canonically I believe he was happy when someone also took a liking to Malleus. I love Sebek sm I can go on about him, how important he is to the Diasomnia lore, and his autistic traits too.

Seriously though it’s like the moment someone displays a trait of autism that isn’t a “socially awkward baby”, it’s like everyone jumps on them calling them a nerd. And with Sebek simps yall forget that he’s literally 16, 16 years old. I’m literally his age and seeing people sexualize him makes me so uncomfortable.

Oh my god I can go on about this thank you so much dude.

[homesweetgoodneighbor]

There is that one time when someone joins your fiber arts group and she singles you out and sends you texts and it's obvious she is reaching out because she feels a connection and you see it and suggest you have lunch and y'all do connect even in the most bizarre ways possible...

...and then you find out she's never had people she jived with and she is ADHD/Anxiety/ Autism and people don't read her well, AND WE ALL UNDERSTAND AND SHE JUST GOT ADOPTED WITHIN AN INCH OF HER LIFE...

Best. Thing. Ever.

[ashleywool]

"I LOVED THAT SHOW"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

People aren't going to forget.

I love that for us.

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

[queeraang]

genuinely i support self indulgent blorbo rotation but i need some of y'all to keep one foot on the ground and understand that you're engaging in fanon.

i have seen people foaming at the mouth because they're convinced that their personal headcanon is like factual and obvious to anyone consuming the media and not y'know a fun idea they came up with in the discord gc a year ago

recognizing your own experiences in a character doesn't make that real or count as representation. I feel like Prince Zuko reflects a lot of the social issues i have as someone with autism. But he is not autistic, the creators have not given me autistic representation, it is not ableism on the part of in world characters or the viewers to dislike traits about him that i personally read as indicative of autism, because he is not canonically autistic.

transformative works are lit but also if you only engage with a piece of media through your own extensive mental edits to the point of being hostile to the actual creators or people who enjoy the source material as is, i feel like maybe you should just get into original fiction or something

[unholybabes]

tap tap tap. is this thing on?

hi hi! it feels so weird to be posting on here after lurking. after forever dwelling in the cesspits of this app, i've finally decided to make an attempt at making some friends! especially ones into the same things as me.

a little bit about myself. my name is everette, i use he/she/it, and I'm a lesbian! i also answer to eve and evie! if it wasn't incredibly obvious, i have autism, and my hyperfixation just so happens to be everyone's favorite silly band: ghost <3

tags i plan on using :

#eve masterlist (all of my posts, archived.)

#eve makes (sims 4 content)

#eve ghosts (ghost content)

#eve rambles (unorganized, miscellaneous rambles)

#eve writes (prompts, ficlets, headcanons, anything i decide to write)

#eve answers (!! exactly what it says! i answer!!)

more may be added!

my interests ; ghost, the magnus protocol & archive, i have no mouth and i must scream, contemporary horror lit, j.c leyendecker, arcane, bg3, dbh, saw, debate, web design, the romantics, chappell roan, the romantics, ethel cain, tyler the creator, musical theater, especially cats and phantom of the opera. definitely more, but those are the basics!!

this is also an official call for literally any ghost fans. i desperately need more friends into ghost. being into a 'satanic' swedish rock band in the deep south is hard, y'all :(.

<3

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Ruby's F/o Tournament - FINAL ROUND

Here we are folks, the final match... The explosives-crazed internationally wanted madman and the Mushroom Kingdom's most terrible enemy. My main f/o, versus the first character I ever made a self insert for. It's our most fiery match ever!!

As always, vote however you see fit, whether you like the character more or my ship with them more. Propaganda will be below the cut. May the best f/o win!! 🧡💜🧡

Junkrat

From anonymous: as a certified junkrat roleplayer i GOTTA go to bat for my boy. He’s like if you made looney tunes as a concept into a person. Autism dialed to 100. I dont care if he’s a criminal he’s a sweetheart. also i think you’d enjoy this tidbit i’ve had him say: “It’s *Junkrat,* thank you very much! I picked that name out meself! Mum didn’t let me make it my legal name, though. Said it’s bad for rez-ew-mes. Jokes on her, I ain’t held a single legal job in all my life. An’ I think Junkrat is very respectable! Makes my interests obvious. I like junkin’, an’ I like rats. Simple!”

From anonymous: Jamie is the most iconic of all! In my mind no one is more synonymous with your blog and your ships and its the first one I fell in love with

From @shipsashore: For the time I've followed your blog, I knew you as Junkrat's lover. Absolutely iconic couple here. Giving my vote to your silly trash husband.

Bowser

From @edencantstopfallininlove: Bowser has the raaaaange. He can go from silly and affable in one moment to ruthless and intimidating in the next. He can BREATHE FIRE for frick's sake. Also a good dad! In the words of the King of the Koopas himself, "Losing is not an option! And neither is giving up!"

From @shipsashore: Not voting for Bowser but I just wanna say yall are still an iconic couple. :)

Notes from Ruby

I'm writing down here because I don't want to put a bias for either of my guys. Sure, Jamie is my main f/o, but Bowser is also my very first, from back when I was only 10 years old and didn't have all these terms for it. He's the first one I ever drew self ship and self insert art for, who I came up with a story for. He means a lot to me and I still love him to this day. On the other hand, Jamie is my main, he's the only f/o I've officially done a wedding for, and sunk countless hours (and dollars) into loving him. This match is an impossible one for me, one I could never choose between... Here's hoping y'all have an easier time 😅💜🧡💜🧡💜

[chewyjellycable]

oooo you want to talk about dele on tumblr soo bad ooooooo

I CAN'T BELIEVE I NEVER ACTUALLY RAMBLED ABOUT THEM ON HERE OH MY GOOOD I NEED TO FIX THIS. (Edit: This is a lie I did it once and entirely forgot about it. There's a lot more info in this one, though feel free to check the other one even if there's repeat information!!)

Anyways here's a list of things about Bredele de Cassonade I think y'all should know (with many accompanying links):

Bredele is intersex (designated AFAB though), and (kind of) identifies as Agender! They use They/He/Zem, but are fine with any other pronouns. It doesn't matter if you use masc, fem, or androgenous terms for them!!

Unlike Langue, they found their identity very easily since they really didn't care what they aligned with. It all felt silly to them. Langue would dog on them about not being "girly enough", but even then they didn't feel like a ""real girl"" (their body always functioned oddly due to being intersex), so! They're not!

They like growing their hair out and letting their facial hair grow in, but they rarely get to do that because of work. They did have longer hair in their school years before they chopped it off for the sake of their job. They let their stubble grow in when they're on vacation, though!!

Though when it comes to relationship, they CANNOT for the life of them figure out what they like. They last assigned themself to be asexual and androromantic, but even they're not sure. It's hard for them to decipher a lot of things emotionally, especially relationships with others.

They currently hold ""possible relationship interest"" in Milk, Espresso, and Cream Cheese Tea.

Their pet is called Ditzboard, who's a ditzy little thing who trip and falls and does all manner of clumsy things but never drops its documents!!

Autism. They bit things as a child and still do sometimes when under stress. They get overstimulated, they hate the sound of their own heartbeat, they have specific tastes in food and textures, they have shutdowns (and meltdowns), they don't understand social cues very well outside of what they've had to teach themself... They also do a lot to themself to make themself feel ALIVE, though I won't specify what here.

They've held an interest in doctors since they were a kid. Hell, as a kid their favorite game series was Trauma Center. Much like how Langue played Ace Attorney when they were younger. :] Both DS games!! I like to think they shared a DS as kids.

Dele also has a keen interest in blood. It may be morbid, but they love thinking about it. It's not that they'd harm anyone for it, absolutely not, but the red fluid is something they think about and it fascinated them endlessly. They'll be bleeding and think of the blood and how it will clot and what it looks like on his skin whilst treating the injury. (They also don't have many to talk about this interest in for obvious reasons.)

Despite their visual differences, Langue and Bredele do get mistaken for each other sometimes!! Dele gets flattered, Langue gets offended.

Dele is ONE inch taller than Langue, and was born moments after Langue was. The lawyer SEETHES at the fact that Dele is better in ANY capacity. Langue will take anything they can get to prove they're better than him.

Langue's jealousy runs deep. Being the louder and more emotional of the two, they're one of Dele's worst critics. They'll lie to zem, bicker with zem, but at the end of the day they're siblings and Dele wouldn't give that up for the world. Langue, however... It's hard to say if they'd truly give up much for zem.

Bredele has learned mending magic from the spare few times they've visited Parfaedia. He's not very magically gifted, so he'll take what he can get!! Besides, it's very useful for equipment (and Langue's glasses when those crack and break too much to reform quickly).

They think Dasani Bottled Water is very unhealthy compared to other types of water bottles due to the lies Langue has told him.

BACK ON THE EMOTIONAL PROCESSING. Dele cannot cry. Well, they CAN, but it's very hard for them to. They can go through the world ending and there's only a chance that they could. A lot of negative emotion just gets numbed out and they can't express it unless it just gets to be Too Much, and even then it's just. So. Difficult. At a younger age, they were called a monster for being so "emotionless".

[mmgmeredith]

DNI:

transphobes, homophobes, peados/maps (y'all can die in a ditch fr), misogynists, racists, and minors.

moodymeangirl alters bloglist

@moodymeangirl - whole entity main/ system home. we have general anxiety disorder, social anxiety disorder, non verbal learning disability, cptsd, did, autism, and adhd. the Bump's have bipolar disorder. medicated insomnia survivor. undiagnosed ed that's managed and beginning to be treated. more personality disorders than u can shake a stick at tbh. this info is mainly for us to ref when memory does not suffice. @mmgbump - Bump (she/her) 17-21, woman + enby @mmgbump - Older Bump (she/her) 22+, woman + enby @mmgmeredith - Me (she/her/it) 23 and 4 months, thing + girl = girlthing. okay with nonbinary + woman as general terms. @mmgdaisy - Daisy (it/she/they) 23 and 4 months, woman + nonbinary + tomboy gender + wifegender + butch gender + lesbian gender + dykewife gender + more. @mmgmarcus - Marcus (he/they) 24, trans masc nonbinary + butch gender + boy + dyke + nblw and nblm and nblnb (but as gender, marcus is very service orientated). @cuntghost - an unamed (it/its) unage/eternal @mmgdead - a ghost of someone, died of heartbreak + combo of bad life conditions (she/her/it) 18-19 @mmgemma - source (or first alter?) (she/it/they/he) ether body age or body age minus the time between birth and first time suffer. there's a couple more of us unlisted for whatever reason (privacy, safety, just use main) and u may come across them. that's okay; be nice/treat them how they've asked. others you may meet who don't have their own blogs: joseph + josie + jo (she/he/it) - these are children. they are unlikely to go on any of the adult blogs. they do blog here, but we keep that one close to our chest for obvious safety reasons. u may meet them sometimes in the tags on main. josephine (they/them) - an adult version of the young 'uns above. i (DaisE) haven't met them tbh but im just writing down whats being told to me rn. unnamed role only alters (no pronouns, one of them is he/him tho) - they have jobs, seemingly no interest beyond them, and limited personality (tho they Are People!). the other children - there's another three kids but I (DaisE, and i think also Meredith) don't have access to their names and pronouns. ages are like seven, nine, and ten. some of us have sideblogs that r alter specific. they're too disorganised to masterpost, but you'll usually see either main or the alter-home in the description.

okay, that's it from me. pls respect us and have fun!

[sundaynightlive]

True Blue (Klance)

Live, laugh, stream Boygenius.

Disclaimer: I mention autism in this and that Keith might be on the spectrum. I'm not neurotypical but I don't believe I have autism, so if the way I did it was in any way insensitive, PLEASE lmk so I can rectify this. My roommate (and best friend) is autistic and while I don't necessarily know their experience I have spent a ton of time with them and have had long, in depth discussions about their experience which is why I felt comfortable writing it. It's a little in line with my own experience, which is why I think it might be slightly off? If it rubs you the wrong way, for sure drop a reply. Peace and love, sweetpeas <3

Also, can y'all tell I'm in a secret relationship? That obvious, huh.

It’s when everybody has dispersed back to their rooms, Shiro giving one last worried glance over his shoulder, that Keith finally walks up to the healing pod, pressing his forehead to the glass (or whatever clear, Altean material this thing's made of) and heaving a deep, shaky breath.

“Idiot,” he whispers.

Lance isn’t usually the kind of guy to be in the midst of the action. Keith’s sharpshooter tends to stick around the high ground and well-covered edges, but today has been an exception. The hallway of the ship had been tight, with little cover and little room to move. He found himself right there in it at Keith’s side, and for the most part he’d held his ground—blocking with his gun, tripping enemies, watching Keith’s back.

For a moment, a fleeting moment, Keith had actually felt incredible fighting at his boyfriend’s side.

And then that moment passed, and everything came to a screeching halt.

It’s a deep flesh wound in the meat of the shoulder, a puncture in the right thigh, and a broken rib. Not enough to kill, but enough to send Lance crashing into Keith’s side, out like a light—and more than enough to give Keith an absolute heart attack.

He sighs heavily, and crumples in on himself to the floor. He’s tired, bruised, and worried. Lance is going to be fine, he knows (he does), but that doesn’t stop the ache that crawls up and through his feet and hands and lungs. 

He never wants to see Lance unconscious like that again.

A few hours later, Allura peeks in and tells him they’re having dinner. Keith isn’t the slightest bit hungry—actually, he’s rather comfortable, back pressed against the pod, drifting in and out of sleep and distant memory. 

“I’m okay.”

She frowns.

“You should come eat, and change,” she says. Keith shakes his head. No way. Absolutely not. He’s not going anywhere until Lance can come with him, and if it gets too dire, there’s a bathroom a few feet away. A shower, even. 

That’s good enough for him.

“He’s alright, Keith,” Allura tries, “Just a few days in there and he’ll be—”

“I know,” Keith interrupts. She regards him for a moment, a long look of concern and confusion, and then relents with a heavy sigh.

“Alright. If you need anything—”

“I know,” Keith repeats.

She hesitates a few moments, and then leaves. Keith closes his eyes, and rests his head back against the pod that contains his boyfriend.

-

8 months earlier Lance McClain had entered Keith’s room, unannounced, and miraculously ducked out of the way of a boot flying towards his head with worrying accuracy.

“If you’re here to gloat, get it over with,” Keith hissed in his direction, a wild, untamed anger alight in his eyes. He’s… frustratingly beautiful, Keith, with his mullet of dark hair, indigo eyes, and lean muscle. He’s half-dressed, the top part of his flight suit hanging from his waist. Lance tries not to look down at his chest, and fails miserably.

He swallowed that away.

“Keith—”

“Actually, you know what?” Keith basically charged at him, which was terrifying for the first few moments. A finger pressed firmly into Lance’s chest, and he took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. He really didnt' want Keith to hit him—that would be a worst case scenario. “Fuck you. Every other mission you’re the fuck up, so I don’t want to hear—”

“I’m not here to gloat,” Lance said, shame and embarrassment burning something fierce in his gut at being called a fuck up. It was difficult, but he swallowed that away, too. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

That's when Keith faltered.

The finger retracted, and so did the boy, stalking over to sit heavily on the edge of his bed, and then burrying his face in his hands. There was a few moments of silence, and then Lance followed, sitting gently down next to him, putting a warm hand on his back.

He wanted, then, to smooth his hand down porcelain skin, but he refrained.

“I… know what it’s like for someone you look up to to chew you out like that,” Lance explained softly, “And Shiro’s not really a big brother to me, or anything, but I know if Marco or Luis were that hard on me… especially for something so stupid—”

“It wasn’t stupid,” Keith argued, rubbing his face and then looking up at him. Lance swallowed again—Keith was so pretty it was fucking with Lance’s head. Damn this stupid crush he had—it was interfering with his ability to be an effective teammate. He wanted this to be more than that.

Which was so not cool, at least not now.

“I fucked up. Big time.”

“That doesn’t mean he should yell at you like that in front of the whole team. Especially when the whole issue was communication.”

“I should’ve known better.”

“How?” Lance deadpanned. Keith’s eyebrows scrunched up, and he turned to study the wall, as if he was really contemplating. Here’s what had happened—

They planned to infiltrate from different points of the ship, and take it quietly so as to not alert any other nearby patrol ships or junkers. Then, with free range of the ship and a hostage situation, Keith and Pidge would be free to search through databases and stockpiles to see what tech or resources the Galra had been laundering through—a fairly simple endeavor.

What they had not accounted for, however, were the Galra mercenaries posted in certain sectors of the ship. When Shiro had gone to warn Keith of this over the comms, Keith had taken that as—the plan has changed, we’re pursuing action against these mercenaries, and upon following that mindset, had landed him and Pidge in the middle of combat they had not been prepared for, and alerted the ship’s staff before Shiro had gained full control of the hull. This made for a spiral of chaos that was swiftly quelled, but apparently got on Shiro’s nerves, even though the mission had been overall successful.

He was always so worried about unnecessary casualties. Fair, Lance supposes, but they are in the middle of literal war.

“I… don’t know,” Keith admitted finally, “I could have… hesitated?”

“And gotten you both killed?” Lance asked. Keith sighed. He flopped back and Lance followed suit, stretching a little bit. Keith was so close Lance could feel the body heat wafting off his torso. He tried not to think about it too much.

Too much was a relative term.

“Whatever, I’m over it. Let’s talk about something else—what are Marco and Luis like?”

And the rest is history.

They spent the next two months connected at the hip, or at least, sneaking into each other’s rooms late at night to talk about everything and nothing. If Keith needed to vent, he went to Lance, and vice versa. If they were bored, they found each other in an empty part of the castle and found something to entertain them. If Hunk or Pidge were being shitty, or Shiro was being too much, or Allura was being especially pushy, they would give each other matching looks, and go giggle about it elsewhere. 

It was wildly beneficial, for Lance, at least. He stopped feeling lonely, and he stopped feeling useless. Not only did Keith convince him vocally he was a necessary addition to the team, but just being friends with him made Lance feel like if nothing else, Keith needed him. Keith liked having him around.

And that was more than enough.

-

Lance was Keith’s first real experience having a friend. He had a dad, he had a brother, but Lance was a friend. He chose. 

Keith could never have avoided falling in love with him.

Being with Lance was easy in a way that’s hard to explain if you don’t already know what he means. Like the way breathing is easy. Keith didn’t even have to try to do it, he just did it.

That, for him, was love.

He’d never really been good with people, or at reading people, or at understanding arbitrary social rules and expectations. It just didn’t… click for him. But with Lance, it didn’t have to click.

“That… kind of upsets me,” Lance said.

Keith started. He looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor, perplexed.

“What?”

“What you just said,” Lance explained, “That I’m the “comic relief” or whatever.” Keith furrowed his brow. His first instinct was to defend himself, and explain why it didnt' make sense that Lance was offended by that, but he stopped himself. They’ve talked about that--getting defensive about other people’s feelings instead of listening to them. 

Lance was looking at him expectantly.

“I’m… sorry,” Keith said, finally, “Why?” A distant cousin of a smile passed over Lance’s features for a moment, and then he shrugged.

“I don’t know. I guess it makes me feel like… a joke to you guys.” Keith’s eyes widened. That was not even remotely what he’d meant by it. He was fairly certain that’s not what anyone meant by it, but he supposed he can see that side.

Jeez, had Lance thought that the whole time?

“Of course you’re not a joke to me—us,” Keith corrected, feeling a bit of warmth creep into his cheeks, “I’m… sorry.”

“Getting better,” Lance praised, “What did you mean, then?”

“Well,” Keith said slowly, because what did he mean? “I thought we were just saying you’re good at lightening the mood, you know? It would be… really quiet and depressing without you.” Lance nodded, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

“Well… thanks, I guess.”

“I won’t say it again,” Keith said firmly, because how could he? Lance thinking he was a joke was just about the last thing Keith wanted—he felt bad enough about calling him a fuck up a few weeks ago, even worse now. Damn it, had they all been operating under the assumption Lance got that these were all jokes? Less than jokes, even.

Fuck.

“Thanks, man. That means… a lot.” Keith laid back down, flat on his back, staring up at Lance’s ceiling. The glow in the dark star stickers weren't glowing because it wasn't dark, but he still felt a little warmth at seeing them there. Ironic that Lance could just go to the hull and stare at a hundred-billion real ones, but incredibly endearing besides.

His insides twisted up.

Fuck number two.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thanks for telling me.”

“Telling you what?”

“That what I said upset you,” Keith explained softly, staring up at those stars, hoping Lance wasn't looking at him. He was pink—very pink. “I don’t really… get when I’ve said something shitty. And most people just get offended and stop talking to me.” Lance laughed a little at that.

“My niece, Nadia, is on the spectrum. You know, autism? She’s just like that—she struggles with social cues, so we walk her through it just like I did with you. It’s really no problem—actually, it’s the least I can do.” 

Keith tried to work out what he meant by that, but he couldn't, so he just stared up at the ceiling for a few quiet moments, contemplating. He wanted to live in Lance’s space forever. He wanted to stay in this room with him, silently existing near each other, no words necessary. Nothing necessary.

God, what did that mean?

“Do you think I could be on the spectrum?”

He heard Lance’s shrug against the mattress.

“Maybe.”

And nothing more was said about it.

-

Lance kissed Keith for the first time two months after that day in his room, and when Keith melted headfirst into it, he nearly broke away to jump for joy. He didn’t read the signs wrong—this was happening. He and Keith were happening.

“I like you,” Lance said when the kiss broke, “I like you so much.”

“Got that,” Keith replied, pressing his forehead into Lance’s. Lance felt giddy and warm and buzzed all over. He felt like he could fly—like he could launch Blue a thousand feet in the air and jump off and soar. He dragged his fingers over Keith’s neck and through his hair and across his cheeks, almost like he was checking to make sure this was real.

It was real.

“Kiss me again,” Keith breathed, and so Lance obliged him. He’d do anything the boy asked. Forever.

“Did I say stop?”

“No, sir.”

-

Keith stays in the infirmary for the next 72 hours. Shiro worriedly brings him a change of clothes and Hunk drops by with the occasional meal. They keep insisting that he leave, that Lance is fine, that it wasn’t his fault—he knows that. He didn’t stab Lance, that’s obvious. 

They don’t understand when he tells them no.

At first, keeping their relationship a secret was just a means of making sure when they did tell everyone, they’d have a few months under their belt as proof that this was serious, and not a terrible, Voltron-ending fling. 

Then it became second nature.

Just as their friendship had been, it became familiar and meaningful to keep their personal relationship to themselves. They were each other’s safe space, and as such, it didn’t feel right to go around announcing to the world that they found comfort in each other. Hell, it felt invasive to even think about.

It feels invasive even now. That’s why he doesn’t explain himself—he just let’s the team think he’s gone completely nuts, and makes himself comfortable at the base of the cryopod, occasionally gazing up at his beautiful boyfriend, looking so peaceful.

In the 74th hour, Lance wakes up.

“I seriously think that shit is bad for humans,” is the first thing he grumbles as Keith helps him out and down onto solid ground, “God, it feels like I have the worst hangover.” Keith can’t help but laugh a little, and Lance grins over at him. “Let me guess—you slept in here on the floor like a dumbass.”

Keith’s smile turns sheepish.

“I couldn’t leave you,” he explains softly, and Lance sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m okay. You, on the other hand, should’ve been sleeping in bed.”

“You were really hurt,” Keith argues as long tan arms slip loosely around his waist, “I was worried about you.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” Lance replies. Keith melts. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and holds him close, careful to keep his face above Lance’s shoulder, no matter how badly he’d like to press his nose in it. Lance’s hands smooth over his back softly, and he almost shudders at how nice it feels. It’s so good to be back in Lance’s arms after the past three days of watching him in that pod, so close and yet impossibly far.

Lance presses a kiss to the side of his head. He feels at home.

They stay like that for a while, safely inside each others’ embrace, breath intermingling, and bodies coming loose—Lance from the stiffness that comes with being inside that stupid tube for many hours, Keith from stress.

“Hey, Lance?”

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

Lance presses another kiss to the side of Keith’s head. He had said it long before this, absolutely ages ago. Not even two months into their relationship—

I love you. Don’t say it back—I wanna watch you fall.

And here Keith is, at the bottom, resting safely in Lance's arms.

“I know, mi amor. I know.”