crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.
i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.
in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.
i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.
i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.
plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.
the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.
we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.
i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.
a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.
today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.
loved beyond thinking.
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Someone In Between; Something Intertwined
Your babyboi Rendacted (from @14dayswithyou) struggles to be himself in your new-ish relationship. Gender neutral reader c:
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
You haphazardly pushed a cart full of returned books across the library. It'd been such a long day. Elanor had called in sick, so on top of desk duty, both the morning and afternoon story times fell on you. The kids were well behaved—as well behaved as elementary schoolers could be, anyway—but by the time it finished you were at your limit. The only solace was that today was Friday, so you had the whole weekend to spend at your boyfriend's apartment. A smile bloomed on your face and you couldn't help but push the cart a little faster as you thought about them, surely waiting outside already.
Ren, your tall, clingy, dark-haired-at-the-roots boyfriend. It'd been 5 months since you officially started dating, and 4 months since he'd been convinced to let go of the Haruko persona. It was agonizingly slow progress, you still didn't know him well—he came off a bit neutral sometimes, unsure how to act around you before reverting to Haruko or a blank slate to mirror you. But you were happy that small parts of the real him managed to peek through over the months, no matter how much time it took. And it was taking a long time.
As you opened the overflow room, you checked the clock on the wall. It was barely 4 minutes until the end of your shift. The cart bumped over the threshold when you pushed it in and locked the door. Once that was taken care of, you did a quick look over the computer and study areas, picking up scrap papers and trash to put in the bin before heading to the break room, then your desk to grab all your things.
You took a peek in Conan's office to bid him goodbye. "I'll see you next week! Enjoy your weekend," you said with a cheery voice and walked towards the entrance.
"You too!" he called after you.
The doors flew open and you practically skipped with relief out into the cool autumn air. You spotted Ren leaning against the brick of the building, dressed in their now-usual style of black on black on more black. His hair was partially tied up in a ponytail, most of it still a pastel pink that fell over his shoulders. From the low collar on his shirt, you could see he'd covered his tattoos with makeup, but a few of his piercings were in. He was trying, and that meant so much to you. His ocean blue eyes were focused on the phone in his hand, so he didn't notice you at first.
"Ren!" You sang out their name and bounced over to them.
He looked up in surprise before quickly smiling. "I was just texting you," he said and put his phone in his pocket. "Hey, Angel."
"Hiiii," you said as you grabbed his hand, taking gleeful notice of the light blush forming on his cheeks as your fingers laced together. At first you used to think it was only his Haruko persona when he blushed at any contact—but it turned out they really liked holding hands. It was the first thing you learned to keep in mind about the real him. So you made sure to do it as often as possible. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
"It's only 5:01."
"And I'm sure you got here much earlier," you teased him, earning his embarrassed agreement when he flushed a deeper pink.
"Just 20 minutes," Ren mumbled and changed the subject. "Did y'want to stop anywhere? We don't have to go straight to my apartment."
"Nope! Work's got me feeling lazy. I'm all yours for the rest of the night." With that, you stood on your toes to kiss his cheek.
He kissed you back on the lips, his snake bites catching the light as he smiled. He didn't even try to hide how happy he was. "Good."
~
An hour later, you were sitting on his couch eating pizza, a horror movie on low in the background while you chatted. You'd gotten half the pizza with your favorite toppings and—with a lot of stubborn encouragement on your part—Ren had gotten what were supposed to be his favorites. There was some overlap with a few of them, but he swore up and down they were things he liked.
"L-Lots of people like pepperoni," he insisted. "You can't be suspicious of that one. It's basic."
"You got more than pepperoni to be suspicious about. But, true. I'll allow it," you conceded and munched away at the last of your pizza slice.
"Besides, I'm not that picky about food."
You swallowed, thinking about the age old debate about pizza toppings. "Pineapple on pizza?" Right on cue, the next victim in the movie shrieked in bloody terror.
"I'd eat it," he said after a moment of thought.
"Oh. Anchovies?" The screams continued.
He was a little more confident on this one. "Yup."
"What about the really weird toppings?" you asked. You inwardly grimaced as you vaguely remembered a weird picture Moth had sent.. "Like… corn and chocolate?"
Ren made a face between confused and disgusted. "Together? On pizza? People eat that?"
"Maybe. Probably," you said and shrugged. You grabbed a napkin from the coffee table and wiped your hands, then stood to throw away your paper plate. "People eat plenty of weirder things."
He paused the movie and quickly followed you into the kitchen with his own plate; he'd finished eating a little bit before you. As he trailed you to the trash can, then the sink, he spoke honestly, "It sounds really… out there. I don't think I'd eat it."
"Hmm," you said as you pumped the soap dispenser. You weren't sure if his answer would change if you said you'd eat it—not that you would, ew—but it was nice for him to voice his own opinions without trying to hear yours first.
You felt him trap you against the counter and rest his chin on your head. His arms came around you, but he only began washing his own hands as you were doing. It was an oddly comforting position.
An easy silence fell over the two of you, only broken by the rush of water from the tap. Eventually, the water stopped and he grabbed a paper towel, quickly drying his hands. You expected him to move, but instead he grabbed another towel and started drying your hands for you. He seemed content, even humming quietly to himself. So you simply watched. His rough fingers were steady as he delicately went over every inch of your hands until they were completely dry. He wasn't even half as thorough with himself; it was cute.
"You're really touchy," you innocently blurted out.
Ren suddenly let go, as if he'd been burned. "S-Sorry, Angel. I should've asked—" He quickly backed off, putting distance between you two and fiddling with his sleeves.
You realized your mistake and turned around, shaking your head in apology. Without the persona as a barrier, he was more on edge about your reactions sometimes. "I didn't mean it in a bad way. Here—hand, please," you demanded and held out your own to him. He cautiously took it and you smiled, closing the space to pull him into a hug. "See? No harm done. Touchy is good. Wonderful, even."
Despite the blush on his face, he seemed relieved. "Really?"
"Almost as wonderful as corn and chocolate pizza," you teased.
He laughed for a moment before squeezing you against his chest. "There's no way you'd actually eat that," he mumbled above you and got even quieter. "I'm so sorry, Angel. 'M afraid you'll push me away one day."
His arms felt so nice wrapped around you, but his words broke your heart. "I'd never do that. I care about you, Ren. Okay?" you whispered into his shirt. Your fingers curled tightly into the fabric and you pressed on. "Not Haruko, not anyone else." His real name slipped out in a quiet whisper. "You."
A rather stressful sigh left him and he started rambling, "I'm trying my best. And I get what you mean, but it's hard t’believe you'd want me as I am. I'm less than perfect for you. Why would you want that?"
"I don't need or want 'perfect' like I'm a test you studied for," you huffed in frustration and looked up at them, shocked to find hurt and loneliness in their gaze. "I'm not mad at you!" you immediately sought to reassure him. "But I want to accept you like you've accepted me, warts and all. I'm not perfect either."
"Except that you are per—" he opened his mouth to protest, but the way your eyes narrowed had him choosing his final word carefully. "Are… person?" He pulled away to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. "I just can’t trust you’d like me when I haven’t been myself that often. You don’t know me that well.” His bangs covered his eyes as he lowered his head and looked away.
“I like the parts I’ve seen,” you stubbornly declared and crossed your arms, rapidly firing off the list you kept in your head. “You sleep like a corpse, you’re a tease and a flirt—even worse in bed. You won’t give anyone the time of day but me, you like your coffee black but somehow have a ridiculous sweet tooth.”
“Angel.” They tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear them.
“Little things make you happy even though you’re a pessimist, a drama queen when you want to get your way, a smug, petty brat on top of that, a total fucking geek if I’m being honest—sometimes you get really excited and babble about tech I don’t understand—and the very first thing I learned—”
“Angel,” he interrupted a little louder with a touch on your shoulder and you snapped out of it. Gentle as could be, he pried your fingers away from your arm. You didn’t realize you were practically digging your nails into your skin from how riled up you were. “Okay,” he continued in a low voice, a tinge of awkwardness to it. “You know me, in some ways.”
You smiled up at him, just as self-conscious about your momentary rant. “You really, really like holding hands, too,” you quietly pointed out and wiggled your fingers in his grip. He hadn’t let go, not that you wanted him to.
“I didn’t think there was so much of me—the real me—that you cared enough to notice,” he said, idly tracing over your fingertips. The gentle touch comforted you.
“It’s all important to me. And it made me so excited when I could see those little parts of you," you admitted with a nervous laugh. “This is embarrassing, but I'd try to write down all the things I'd learn when I got home so I wouldn’t forget. But then I’d scribble and tear up the papers—I’d think to myself like ‘that’s creepy, stop it you weirdo.’ Isn’t it though? Taking notes on someone is a bit much.”
Ren seemed to piece something together in his mind before answering confidently, “Not at all, in fact it’s really cute. Who's studying for who, here?”
Heat flushed your cheeks and you blew out a silent breath from pursed lips. “I wasn’t studying. I was happy that you were being yourself! There are so many quirks or habits you don't realize that just make me fall more in… love… with you…?” You trailed off, eyes widening in tandem with theirs as you both processed what you'd just said.
The confused look on his face had you positive that his brain was malfunctioning. At least yours certainly was. “Ah—In love? Like you love me?” he asked in disbelief and repeated himself. "You love me?"
You nodded robotically, wanting to melt into the marble floor. You did love him. And all the little pieces that shined through the cracks in his act. You loved getting to know him, good and bad, bratty or sweet. Confessing to note taking already had you flustered, yet here you were, continuing to run your mouth and put it all out there. “Yeah... I love you,” you managed to say in spite of yourself.
He lifted you off the ground by your waist, drawing a weird squeaking noise you had surely never made before out of you. He didn't seem bothered as he sat you down on the counter and tenderly kissed your forehead. “I love you, Angel. More than anything,” he breathed out against your skin then pulled back. “I really love you.” His hand brushed stray hairs away from your face before he was cupping your cheek, staring at you for a long while with a shamelessly adoring smile.
Sirens started blaring in your head the longer nothing happened, so you quietly asked, “Can you kiss me before more embarrassing stuff comes out my mouth?”
“Ahh, um, I’m kind of—overstimulated? Overwhelmed? I never thought I'd hear y'say you love me," he confessed with giddiness. "I can’t decide between teasing you or crying from happiness."
“If you tease me right now I’m going to be the one crying."
That got him to choose. Not a moment sooner, he finally kissed you. The sirens in your head quieted down, only to be replaced by butterflies in your stomach as your eyes closed. He was just as affectionate as he always was, but you could tell he had trouble holding his emotions back from the way his hand gripped your thigh. There was a trembling excitement to the gentle kisses he gave. Ren was clearly on cloud nine. His lips drew a feather light trail from the corner of your mouth up to your ear, barely tickling you as he lingered.
“Angel,” he whispered softly as his thumb traced circles on your leg.
You tilted your head to look at him, feeling pure bliss from his affection. “Hmm?”
“Don’t tear up your study notes next time. ‘Wanna read ‘em.”
“Noo!"
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