#I had no idea what all counts as stimming though. definitely learned a bit there

[buried-in-autumn-leaves]

A Sister’s Promise (The Dress)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)

Relationships: B.O.Y.D./Huey Duck (Disney: DuckTales), Lena (Disney: DuckTales)/Webby Vanderquack

Characters: B.O.Y.D. (Disney: DuckTales), Huey Duck (Disney), Dewey Duck (Disney), Lena (Disney: DuckTales), Webby Vanderquack, Louie Duck (mentioned)

Word Count: 3027

Also Available On AO3 !!!

Movie nights are common for the kids. With such exciting lives outside and inside the mansion, there was something calming about nights like these. Where they would all sneak into Webby's room after the adults had gone to bed. Windows would be left open for Boyd, Lena, and the others to get in from outside without risking the front door.

This night was not unlike the others, but it was considerably smaller, only Webby and Huey currently present. They were waiting on Lena, who was expected to arrive soon. The absent of the other triplets was requested by Huey actually, and though odd, Webby didn't question it. She was sure there was a reason, and she'd learned not to question things between the three of them. As she finished bringing in the pile of blankets from the hall closet (They weren't meant to go in there, but what the others didn't know wouldn't hurt them.) Huey had settled on the floor across from the TV, "Hey Webs, throw me a snack?"

She reached into the basket next to her, where the group had kept all the snacks they've managed to sneak out of the kitchen. As she tossed a candy bar towards Huey, a tap could be heard on the window behind her. Huey jumped out of his seat.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I forgot to open the window. Probably just Lena, don't worry." She made a point made a point of reassuring them often, knowing how bad his anxiety could get. She ran over and threw open the window. Just as she said, as it opened a shadow could be seen moving on the wall, into the rooms, and then down onto the floor. After a second, the shadow faded, letting Lena's physical form take shape.

They smiled at Webby, "Hey, sorry, still not good at the whole 'going through windows' thing. The others not here yet?"

"It's actually just us this time, but I might invite BOYD over after Tangled. We're watching Big Hero Six, and it's his favourite-" She froze, and looked back over at Huey, her tone teasing. "Oh, would that be okay Huey?"

"Well not if you're gonna talk like that." He responded, rolling his eyes. Their crush on the android friend wasn't exactly a secret to anyone, but Boyd was kind of oblivious when it came to stuff like that, so thankfully he hadn't figured it out yet.

She noticed a backpack that had been hidden behind Huey before he had sat down. "Oh, are you sleeping in here? You can, of course. I'm just not sure how we'd keep that one from Dewey and Louie since you share a room and everything."

"Oh, no I wasn't planning on it, I just brought something I wanted to show you." He seemed a bit nervous, but mostly excited? "Just wait here for a second, I'll be right back!"

Without giving Webby or Lena a chance to answer, they ran out of Webby's room and she heard them enter the bathroom next door. Lena laughed, grabbing a random bag out of the basket of snacks and sitting down next to Webby. "Jeez, you guys are weird."

Webby awkwardly half-laughed back. "Yeah…" It wasn't anything Lena did, of course. She was just curious about what Huey could possibly be hiding.

A few minutes had passed. Webby and Lena were watching an Ottoman Empire rerun as they waited for Huey to come back. As the hosts once again started arguing, the two turned around, hearing a slightly static sound. Lena ran over to the source first. She pulled something out from under Webby's bed. "It's your walkie-talkie."

"Webby, please pick up, I need your help with something." Huey's voice could be heard clearly through the talkie, and Webby, confused, ran over to answer.

"Huey? Why do you even have your talkie on you? What's going on?"

"Junior Woodchuck Rule #1: 'Always expect the unexpected.' But that doesn't matter. Dewey's out in the hall. I need you to get rid of him for me."

"Get rid of him? Why? You're starting to worry me…"

"It's nothing bad, I promise. Just do this for me, please?" He seemed sure, and he didn't seem too upset, so choosing to once again not press the issue, (at least for now) Webby sighed and handed the device to Lena.

"I'll be right back, this shouldn't take more than a minute."

"It's not a problem, Pink. But I am not gonna pause this episode." Lena laughed, sitting back down near the TV. Smiling slightly, Webby nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Just as Huey had said, Dewey was walking around in the hall. He was carrying a tape measure and a clipboard. Webby watched as he seemed to write something down and hold the tape measure against a portion of the wall.

"Um… Dewey?" He turned around quickly, going to hide the objects behind his back. What he didn't expect was for the tape measure to snap shut and hit him in the side of the head. Exclaiming in pain, he shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"Hey Webby, how are you?" He said, clearly not wanting to explain.

"I don't-" She started, then sighed, deciding the conversation probably wasn't worth it. "Just put this off for the night and I won’t tell anyone what just happened. I'm trying to sleep."

"Fine, deal. Oh, have you seen Huey? He didn't actually tell us where he was going." He picked up the dropped items from the floor.

Panicking, Webby stuttered, trying to think of something that's not suspicious. "He's uh… With Boyd!"

Not a good idea, apparently. Dewey looked surprised, before questioning. "Boyd? Like the Gearloose robo-kid Boyd? OH! Did he finally ask him out?! Louie so owes me $10-"

"What?! No, I- Wait you guys were betting?" She scoffed. She'd definitely be bringing that up later. How dare they not tell her? She could've won so easily! "Anyways, it doesn't matter. Just please let me go to bed."

Previous plans completely forgotten, Dewey nodded and ran back towards his room, yelling at Louie about the money. Once she was sure he wasn't coming back, Webby walked over to the wall where he had just been standing and picked up the clipboard that now lay forgotten on the ground.

"Indoor waterslide? Well, at least he got the measurements right…" Placing the board back down on the ground, she skipped over to bathroom door, grateful that the triplets were so easily distracted. She knocked once on the door, speaking quietly.

"He's gone, you owe me." She wasn't completely serious, of course, but Huey was definitely texting Boyd later that night. It was about time something happened between them, anyways.

"Thanks Webs. I'll be back in just a minute, don't wait for me."

Back in the room, she sat down next to Lena, who was just as curious as she was about Huey's plans. After pausing the show on the TV, they spoke up.

"What do you think he's hiding? I mean not wanting the adults to see I get, but their brothers? I mean I just don't get it."

"I know. This has only happened like once before, and that was when…" She trailed off, then gasped, smiling. "New clothes."

"What?"

"They got new clothes! Oh maybe it's a skirt, we were looking at some the other day-"

She was cut off by a knock at the door, and stopped talking immediately. "Who is it?"

"It's Huey, I just wanted to be able to see your first reaction to this-" Webby interrupted him once again.

"Is it a new outfit?" She asked, excitedly. She heard a sigh from the other side of the door.

"Jeez Webs, you ruin all my surprises."

Then the door opened, and there was Huey, pink and red butterfly clips in his hair, wearing a dress.

It was red, and pretty simple in design, reaching down to where Webby's skirts normally landed when they wore them. After a few seconds of shock, Webby finally seemed to realise what was happening, and squealed. She ran over, almost choking Huey in a tight hug. As he looked behind her, he saw Lena smiling, hands flapping as she ran over to look at the clips.

"These are so cute! Did you make them?"

"Yeah I just-"

"How did you even get this?! Donald and the others always go shopping with you. Oh let me go get my camera!"

"Well I had to-"

"What style would this be considered? I think you'd look really good in a sort of pastel emo vibe, you know? Maybe we could-"

At this point Huey had stopped processing what was being said. The shouting combined with the flash of Webby's camera was so much and it hurt. He pushed his way through Webby and Lena and shakily walked over to the corner of the room the light didn't quite reach. He immediately sat down against the wall and pulled their knees up to his chest, hiding their head and rocking slowly. That was when the others seemed to realise the issue. Webby was the first to act.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry-" She spoke quietly, frowning when Huey had tried to sign that he was okay. "Lena, there's a pair of headphones on my bed. Go grab them for me please?" Lena nodded and quickly went to retrieve them.

So, sensory overload.

It wasn't uncommon for Huey to have these episodes. His ADHD commonly contrasted with his sister's, hers being more hyperactive while his was more inattentive. There was nothing inherently bad about that of course, sometimes it was even a positive part of their dynamic. However it also caused Webby to commonly forget about how bad Huey's sensory issues could get, and so her hyperactivity has caused Huey to go through these episodes a few times before. Still, she never felt and less awful every time it happened.

But this wasn't about her, so she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears as Lena came back and handed her the headphones. She walked over to where Huey was still in that same position on the floor and put the headphones on the floor next to them. She then ran over to a box on her nightstand. Her creative nature had helped her make a variety of stim toys for the others based off how she'd seen them act. Louie had a noise based fidget cube, Dewey a necklace with different chew-safe pieces on it in different textures, etc.

She pulled out Huey's, which was her personal favourite she'd made. One of Huey's main soothers is soft textures like plushies, so that's what she focused on. The plush cube had different fabrics on each side, ranging from longer fur-like fabric to fleece to silk. She made sure there were slight separations between fabrics so Huey had full control on which texture he was touching. This feeling of control tended to help them calm down.

When she walked back over to where Huey was, they were wearing the headphones, and his head was up, but the rocking was still going on. She walked over and handed him the cube, being careful not to touch him directly until he said they were okay with contact.

As this was going on, Lena had gone over to the doorway to dim the lights. The feature was installed by Webby (only starting two fires in the process) after Huey's first overload. And sure, it would've probably been easier to ask one of the adults to help her, but where's the fun in that?

Webby and Lena waited in an awkward silence, letting Huey calm down fully. It seemed the overload left them nonverbal, at least for the moment. Fortunately, since these episodes were common enough, being nonverbal wouldn't completely cut off their ability to communicate. The two had learned basic sign language a few months prior. It wasn't difficult, considering how many languages Webby already knew and how quickly Huey could memorize things like that.

"How're you feeling?" She signed slowly, giving Huey a second to process. After a moment, he raised his hands, only slightly shaking now, to answer.

"Fine, just voice troubles again."

"Are you sure? Do you need anything?" As the conversation went on, Webby said both her own and Huey's parts out loud so Lena would know what's going on. She had attempted to learn the language along with Huey, but turns out it's a little harder to focus on such small details when you can just magic yourself a solution to pretty much any problem.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He responded. "But I don't think I can answer those questions you asked earlier right now. Maybe we could just start the movie first?"

Webby smiled, handing the remote over to Lena, who went to look for the movie. "Yeah, of course. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

Huey smiled back and nodded, moving out of the corner and back to where Lena and Webby had set up for the movie. Leaning back against the end of Webby's bed, Huey smiled at their sister, turning his attention to the movie, that had just started.

-

By the time Mother Gothel had started warning Rapunzel about the dangers outside the tower, Huey had completely recovered. He cleared his throat, gaining the other's attention.

"I'm okay now. Uhm, to answer the questions, yes I made the clips. They're a pretty simple design, so I just stole some basic welding equipment from Gyro's lab while Boyd distracted him for me. And I didn't buy the dress, I made it. Sewing is one of the first badges I got, so it wasn't too difficult."

"That's really impressive, you know," Lena insisted. "You always say stuff like that. 'It's not that much, it's not a big deal.' Give yourself some credit."

Huey gave a small smile and nodded. "Noted… Thanks, Lena."

"Don't sweat it, nerd."

"She's right. And sorry, again. I keep forgetting and I really didn’t mean to-" Webby rambled before Huey cut her off.

"It's fine Webby, really. I know you didn’t mean to, you wouldn't do that." He said, mirroring the times she would always reassure them after an overload or any sort of episode.

Webby smiled at that, and then turned back towards the screen. However, the silent watching of the movie didn't last long, because it seemed Webby had one more question.

"Hey, Huey?"

"Hm?"

"Why do you hide this stuff from your brothers?" She asked quietly, frowning when Huey tensed up at the question. "You don't have to answer, I was just curious-"

"No… It's fine. Just caught me off guard I guess." He trailed off, absentmindedly staring at the TV. "I don't know, really. I think it's just because I want them to take me seriously?" He ended the statement more like a question.

"What do you mean?" Lena butted into the conversation, pausing the movie.

Huey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's a stupid fear." This got Webby to smack their arm lightly.

"It's not stupid. You have bad anxiety, and you overthink stuff. Think about Louie. When he came out, did you start treating him like a child? I mean, any more then you already do?" She laughed. Louie was always treated like the youngest sibling by a huge margin, despite only being a few minutes younger.

He shook his head. "No..."

Smiling now, Webby spoke up again, teasing. "Well? What did you do?"

Huey sighed, laughing slightly. "I altered his dress into a suit design."

"Exactly!" She exclaimed, beaming. "And Dewey helped! In his own way... But everything went fine. And it'll go fine with you too, I promise."

They didn't answer, simply smiling and nodding slightly. "You can start the movie again, Lena."

As the characters danced across the screen, Huey looked down at their dress, smoothing out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Maybe Webby was right. Maybe it would be okay. I mean they were family, right? He decided he should talk to Della first. That would be easiest. Plus she may be able to help talk to their brothers. She was their mom, right? If she told them, then nothing could really go wrong, at least for the moment.

He thought about how he would tell her, going through individual lines of dialogue and things she could ask or say. This internal monologue was interrupted by someone snapping in front of his face.

"Huey? You there?" Webby asked, smiling.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. What's up?"

"You have your phone on you, right?"

They nodded, pulling the phone out of the bag that had held the dress. "Need me to call Vi or something?" His phone was quickly snatched out of his hand, and he looked at Webby, confused.

"Nope! It's just this movie's almost over so Boyd is gonna be here in a few minutes-" She paused, looking over at Lena, "Ah, speaking of which, could you please open the window, Lena?" When they walked over to open it, Webby turned back towards Huey. "But anyways, since he's gonna be here, I'm taking this so you'll actually have to talk to him. And if you really don't want to tell him that's fine. Obviously I won't force you. But I really think he likes you."

Shaking his head, Huey laughed. "I mean, nothing else could go wrong tonight…"

"Yeah! And if anything goes wrong I can just delete the memory from his software!" She said, beaming.

"No!" Huey yelled, looking at the door and waiting a moment before talking quieter. "We've talked about this. No editing Boyd's memories!"

"Yeah yeah, I know. So what do you say?" She asked, excitedly.

She watched as Huey looked down at his dress again, and looked up, grinning.

"I'll tell him. As long as you don't try to mess with anything, and you can't be in the same room when I do it. I'll drag him out to the garden or something. Deal?" He held his hand out towards her, and she shook it immediately.

"Deal!"

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #dt webby #Webbigail Vanderquack #lena sabrewing #Huey Dewey and Louie #trans huey #Huey Duck #enby huey #trans webby #enby lena #long post #trans character #gender noncomformity #boyd gearloose #huey x boyd #webby x lena

[rousseaubsc2b]

Emma's working the late shift this week, so John will get home before she does. He made her mashed potatoes for dinner, knowing she'd hardly eaten all day. Something about a tooth giving her problems and getting to the dentist tomorrow, but he hasn't gotten a look at what was going on yet. Emma knew something was wrong right away, though.

Still, she wasn't very much herself this evening, not at all. Granted, her usual behaviour varies from extra talkative and telling everyone all about her day and what she saw on the way to the more introverted humming and stimming with a pen or her hair or a bracelet or someone's keys or what have you while she reads and fidgets. Tonight she was just very oddly quiet, sitting by herself, not really engaged in anything. If you ask me, she looked rather uncomfortable, drawn inward. As if someone had mentioned a rumour to her in passing that hadn't been very kind and now she was considering whether or not it might be true.

John picked up on this too as he sat down at the desk with tea. He noticed her staring blankly out the window into the dusk. "Emma?" She looked up without moving. "Something's the matter."

The question you ask determines the answer you get with her. In this case, he chose not to question her but state what he knew. She was free to disagree with his assessment, but she would also justify her reasoning. Either way, Emma had to respond to him.

John Watson was getting very good at getting a nonverbal Emma to speak to him.

He also knew better than to ask her "what's wrong." Nine times out of ten Emma didn't know and the question just frustrated her all the more, increasing the mental noise as she tried to answer something nearly impossible. 

"Do you know what it might be? Or part of it?"

I watched from the corner of my eye as Emma moved her hands not exactly idly, more like she was searching for words. She moved them in circles, trying to coax words out, flapped her hands in front of her, brushed her fingers against those of her other hand. Then she brushed her hair back from her face with both hands, over the top of her head. "Just too much change in routine today, I think. My tooth feels weird, that's definitely not helping."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, not that I can tell."

"Well, if it hurt, you'd know, wouldn't you? Although you do have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so... hmm." He made no assumptions and sipped his tea, then moved the chair closest to her out away from the desk. "Come here, show me what you've got there."

"I dunno if you'll be able to see it, but..." She sat across from him and cooperated while he turned on the lamp and angled it up to see the tooth she very gingerly touched.

"Yep, there it is," he murmured, turning his head. "I can see it from here. I'm surprised it's not hurting you. I think you're right, good idea to take it easy with what you eat 'til that's filled."

"Uh huh," she replied awkwardly, mouth open. 

"And it came out in pieces?"

"Three. Little tiny. They're in the bathroom, actually, I just wanted to keep up with what all came out."

"Right. Good."

Emma sighed as he turned the light off and angled it back down. John must have thought this was strange. "Something's still not right, though," he mentioned. Her eyes had flitted back to the window. He looked out, wondering if she saw something, but street lamps were the only things to be seen. Noticing his interest, she refocused her gaze on a pile of books on the desk; a combination of mine, his, and a few of hers. 

And she just looked... sad.

"Yeah," she finally agreed with a little nod, but then shook her head. "This whole day's just felt weird. I'm not a fan of it. Been weird since I got up."

"You didn't sleep much last night."

"Mouth felt weird."

He nodded to himself. "That'll do it." Knowing very well Emma rarely slept well anyway, but the same was true for him.

"Anxiety about Monday."

"Really?"

"Yeah, just... you know, afraid of oversleeping, afraid of whatever else could go wrong, getting back in the routine of the week. I used to dread every day when I was a kid in school, not just Mondays, but I think Mondays were the worst. The rest of the week, I was kind of in the routine, I knew what to expect, what the schedule was, then the weekend -- two glorious days of freedom to do what I wanted -- and then back to school. So much anxiety. Do you know -- right now, sitting here -- I can feel that same dread about going to school that I felt as kid. That dread of walking through the hall doors on a Monday morning. It actually makes me sick to my stomach just remembering it."

I could see the lightbulb turn on over John's head. Plain as day. He sat back in his chair and listened. 

Emma waved her hands in front of herself and talked more. "The way the sun looked as it rose, the gold color it made on the walls. I hated it. The walls were made of rocks, the doors were glass, there were steps going up to the building, and a teacher outside with a whistle... lots of kids getting out of cars, and the smell of breakfast that wasn't my mum's cooking in the hall as soon as I walked in." Her voice trembled with nerves, as if tears might threaten -- she wouldn't let them, but the memory was there. "And the only thing I had that belonged to me was my backpack, everything else that was comfortable to me was at home... and I couldn't turn back and run out the door to my mum. I had to stay. I just wanted to go home."

"I know what's going on," John murmured. "You do too."

"What's that?"

"Anxiety." He shifted in his chair. "Just... like you said. Monday. Leaving home. Change in routine."

"Sometimes it doesn't need a reason, it just happens," Emma expounded. "Just... suddenly the bad juju creeps back up and you go, 'What the hell is going on?' And it's nothing."

"Right." He was no stranger to this. "Emma, you have panic attacks?"

"Sometimes. Not often."

"Do you know when you're having one?"

"Yeah, my watch tells me. My heart rate jumps for no reason. I actually get it a lot when I try to sleep and I can't, like... it's not a restful sleep, my heart rate is just consistently up and down over however long. I'll wake up and have six alerts that my heart rate went too high."

"Now that's interesting." Shifted in the chair again. John was born to be a doctor. "It's weird, but I always feel... off... before that happens. This all just -sounds- crazy to me -- logically speaking --  I feel this way, I have absolutely no control over it, I just get... I have this constant undercurrent of anxiety in my brain. And I can't control when it decides to show out. That's really what it is, when IT decides to show out. It's like an emotional bully in my head. I swear I'm not crazy, John."

"No, you're not. Keep talking."

"And... for the most part, it honestly has ruled my life."

This dawned on Emma at the same time that she spoke those words. "It ruled so many of my decisions. It still sort of does, I suppose. I'm trying to not let it. But it's a constant, conscious battle between... myself, and... my brain. What I want to do versus what it's comfortable with."

"But you -have- come a long way," John prompted. "Since university. Round one. You've had a few different jobs, now you work with phones -- you've told me you were terrified of phones."

"It's all scripted. I wrote down everything I needed to say. And I practiced it. I still practice it every time I answer the phone."

"You just said it, Emma."

"What?"

"One way to fight anxiety back. Practice. Small things like that, that seem big at the time. Dealing with the phone."

"Right." She agreed, but she was processing, too. She leaned closer, cocked her head to the side. Her thinking pose.

"Going to Barts, talking to people there -- yes, we started that to help you with social skills, but how much of the social skills is also anxiety and how much is actually skill? They probably go hand in hand, right?"

"Yeah."

"So the more you practice it --"

"--the easier it gets."

"Less awkward."

"Maybe."

"Slightly."

"Turning the awkward into... some charming way with words."

"There you go. Learning to make a connection with a patient. Talking to a parent in a positive way even though their kid has just gotten a pip stuck up their nose. You're an optimistic person --"

"Quite a bit of that is thanks to my meds, but yes -- "

"-- and I really think once we kind of... eke those social skills into action, you are going to be a phenomenal nurse."

Emma grinned. Now she looked like she might actually cry.

"God knows you're smart enough. I've got no doubts there. None." John clapped his hands together once. "The rest, we can work on." "You know what else helps anxiety?" Emma thought out loud. "Besides practicing defeating it."

"What's that?"

"Distracting it."

"Good one." He considered this. "You have any ideas?"

"I was hoping you might. I'm kind of... still not a hundred percent there. Ish."

"Ish."

"Right."

"Okay."

I turned on the telly. Idly. No reason. Just to see what was on. I noticed Emma hardly ever watched telly on her own, it was always as an aside with us. She tries so hard to stay busy... I wonder if she often forgets to slow down.

Perhaps John was seeing that tonight, too.

It didn't take long for the two of them to curl up on the couch, Emma in her comfortable spot on John's chest, wrapped in his arms. In between game shows, I heard the two of them talking, laughing about something between themselves. As much as I tried -not- to listen to them, I couldn't help myself, and -- 

"One... two... three..." John was counting, but.... why....?

"Blink, blink," said Emma. John chuckled.

"Four."

"Wiggle, wiggle."

I had to turn and look now. Making her follow his finger in front of her face -- 

"Five."

"My nose itches." Emma rubbed her nose, or pretended to.

He's teaching her the functions of the cranial nerves.

"Six."

"Look six ways." Followed his finger again.

"Seven."

"Cheese." She grinned. 

John laughed and rewarded her with a kiss on her lips. "Eight." She touched her ears. "Nine." 

"Yum."

"Ten."

"Hmmm..." Thinking. "Wait. Gallbladder made my shoulder hurt."

"Yes! Good one! Eleven?" Emma touched her shoulders. "And twelve." She blew a raspberry. John laughed and hugged her tightly. "That was entirely too much fun."

"One more time? I want to be able to remember which ones do what before I put names to them."

"Alright, here we go."

John smiled at me. I'd been spotted. 

I grinned.

"One." Emma touched her nose. "Two." Her eyes. "Three."

"Blink, blink." He laughed again. The way she said it tickled him every time.

"Olfactory. Optic. Oculomotor.... Four, trigeminal, sensory information about your face."

"My nose itches."

"You've got something on your face." He pretended to wipe something from the corner of her mouth.

"Okay, let's do those four," said Emma.

"One... two... three..."

“Blink, blink.”

We all laughed.

--SH

[valtheimm]

would it be naughty to ask for every even number of the OC ask meme for gorgeous angel thalion? i love her already...

Naughty! But i forgive you instantly, i want nothing more than people asking me qs about my girls with such zeal! 💗💖💕💞💝💟💓2. Does your oc collect anything?Well, she doen't sell some memorable artifacts/junk she got along the way, like Aurnora's amulet or the swords she used to use. Apart from that she doesn't collect anything. Yet. We'll see.4. What kind of clothing does your OC wear?She is middle class and her mother is a tailor, so she is used to some degree of finery. Not too lavish, but nice and comfortable. That partially went out of the window when she screwd her relationship with her family. Nowadays she wears armor, but she still misses fine clothes. Eventually i'll start linking fashion she likes.6. What’s your OC’s favorite animal? Least favorite?So far she's not thrilled about Cyrodiilic wildlife that strives to kill her. In this house we don't like birds much, but i can imagine her living with a crow. Yeahh, that sounds good.8. What is your OC’s theme song? Haven't figured one and only for her yet, but in her playlist there's definitely J Lo's 'Dinero' and Nelly Furtado's 'Maneater'. She's trash. I love her.10. What deadly sin would best represent your OC?Maybe greed, but she does donate to the poor. She just really likes money, ngl.12. How patient is your OC? How hot-headed are they?Like 50/50. She will wait, but she may whine about it. She will charge the daedra head-on tho.14. What foods does your OC like to eat? What are their least favorite foods?She likes pumpkins, the weirdo. She also likes pastries and apples and roasted meat. This is basically what she usually steals from castles, bc she doesn't believe in paying for food. Other than that she's used to typical Cyrodiilic food, because she grew up there. Doesn't like corn or rice. Steals them all the same and uses them for potions.16. What does your OC smell like? Rain and freshly moved grass and sometimes like ash and hellfires.18. What are your OC’s greatest fears? Weaknesses? Strengths?Huh. I don't think i'm ready to answer this, i don't know her well enough. -+She is physically not very strong and relies on magic a lot. But she is very good at destruction, especially fire, and gets better every day. -She is selfish and mostly does good deads for something. She *will* help you, but not of sheer goodness of her heart. She'll expect something in return. +But if she finds a person she loves she goes 'ride or die' with them (at least one of these people is Rhea, bc bitches eventually meet up).-She does get jelous too. What's hers is hers.+She is confident in herself, but not arrogant, thanks god.20. If they came from their world to ours (if not already in our’s) how would they react? What would they do?I am going to include her in my Fallout au probably. She goes for punk aesthetic, gets herself a nailed baseball bat and confidently blasts her way through hardships.22. What kind of student were they/would they be in high school?The one that gets mostly Cs and just wings it. She enrolls into IC Arcane Univercity to understand magic better and better control it, but the lectures are *so* boring to her she quits eventually. She likes more practical magic. She gets bored easily. She is NOT an academic. 24. What is their outlook on life? What is their philosophy/ what do they think in general about living?Huh. Thal is not pessimistic, but is a bit whiny. She's that pic from Bob's Burgers 'fine, i'll do it, but i will complain all the way'. But she mostly complains internally. Generally 'life sucks and she deserves better, where're ten handsome men with fans feeding her grapes?' She's not wrong tho, she spends mostly all the time wet and cold from rain and constantly half-hungry.26. Who is the most important person in their life? Why? Who is the least important to them?Rhea. She learned once about an existance of a sister from her dad when he was drunk again, so she tried to find her after Oblivion Crisis. That was after Red Year, so it was a dead end. They eventually meet through none other than Eris (and also Faralda). Rhea is her only family now and she is constantly impressed by her older sister. Rhea knocks some sense into her academia-wise too. Thal considers both Rhea and Eris giant nerds. Which they are. Anyway, she loves her sister.Her dad. She kind of killed him. But that is a story for later.28. What kind of nervous habits do they have? Do they stim? Do they have any kinds of addictions?Can't say much here. She taps her leg when she's impatient.I still have no idea what stimming is too, so she doesn't do it.Thal is careful about her addictions. She doesn't even drink coffee. She *is* 'addicted' to fire though. She is kind of an arsonist, which may or may not correlate with the previous question,,,30. Do they want to get married? Why or why not? Would they ever want kids? Do they have kids? Why?Hm, i don't think so. First we'd have to find a LI for her. I considered Martin before i met him, but now that's a hard pass for her. We'll see how it goes.And she's too young to have kids, not that she wants any.32. If they could have one thing in the world, what would it be?Right now i honestly have no idea.34.What social groups and activities does your character attend? What role do they like to play? What role do they actually play, usually?She likes to know what's happening around her in different social groups, but she doen't actually participate in any of them much. But she likes to have the information and maybe use it. 36. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?Again, no idea right now. I just can say that she wants a better control over herself and be less lazy probably. She has a long way to go, so we'll figure this out :)38. What would your character do with a million dollars? Open a shop, which she does. I talked about it in a previous ask :)40. Your character is getting ready for a night out. Where are they going? What do they wear? Who will they be with?She's a wet and cold goblin that just wants some free food and a free bed. Right now she only goes to taverns or sulks around palaces, stealing food and information and finding a warm bed to sleep in.42. Does your character have any scars? Where did they get them from? Not yet she doesn't44. How does your character react/ accept criticism?Doesn't like it. Well, who does. She'll listen, but is most likely to stay by her own opinion.46. Your character is given a voodoo doll of themself. What do they do with it? Do they see if it actually works?Just a typical 'give it a shoulder rub, put it in a nice bath' type of things. I do hope it works.48. What were their parents like? How has that affected how they are as an adult?Ohh hoo boi. Her mother is middle-class Altmer who had come from Summurset to Cyrodiil and have been living there for quite a while. Has a bad taste in men, considering Thal's father. She loved her daughter in her own, maybe a bit cold, way, but after what happened to her husband and her shop in process that love has diminished.Thalion's dad was a drunk even when he was still with Rhea's family. With being drunk came occasional beating. Since he abandonned them he picked up gambling in Cyrodiil. But he is very charismatic and charming and his get-rich-quick schemes often worked out, so Thal's mom got sucked into the relationship. She didn't believe Thal when she told her dad beat her up, because her husband is a very good manipulator too. All in all, the man sucks. One fine day when he was asleep Thalion got into his room, lit up a candle, dropped it on the floor and burned the whole shop to hell. Her father suffocated in the process. Her mom wasn't home. The arson got pinned on Thal, but she denies it vigorously to this day. But if you ask her about it again, she'll probably say 'yeah, i did it'. 50. If your character was presented with imminent and unavoidable death/fatality, how would they react? Would they try to avoid death anyways? Would they try to make their last days count? So, if Thally was in Martin's shoes? At first she'd try to get out of it, but after time/if her loved onea were included, she'd do the right thing. She would definitely try to make her last days count thoughThank you so much, this made my two whole days and waa also very useful 💓💟💝💖💗#asks #/thal/

[kookiesbadhabits]

overdue (M) | one

gif by hoshikio

Ship: jungkook x reader

Summary of Part 1: You meet Jungkook in the library, and he asks you to keep his gift in exchange for your overdue book under the rug for the time being. You end up being his personal plaything when you learn he has complete control over your pleasure upon obeying his demand that you keep his gift somewhere special. Hint: the gift is a small vibrator you place in ya pants.  

Genres: smut, a little fluff, mostly smut

Warnings: dom-jungkook, sex toys, exhibitionism, edging, over-stim, multiple orgasms, choking

Part 1 / Part 2

Word Count: 3.6k

This was your usual sanctuary, whether you had a spare or had to stay late after school: the library. When you didn’t feel like socializing or just breathing people’s air, this place was where you would retreat. It was always quiet here, the friendly old librarian knew your face out of the hundreds of students that had come and go by now. You even started helping her with the book returns, which was the least you could do.

The massive bookshelves lined the library like pantheon partitions, each strewn with worlds you could escape into. You lightly smiled as you ran your fingers down the spines of the new books of the literature section as you thought, ‘do I feel like the classics today?’ taking slow steps between two shelves.

A figure walked past the shelves in your peripherals and you reflexively glanced towards the movement. For a split second, you saw a new face and met eyes, ‘never seen him around here before’, you wondered. He was lackadaisically pushing a wooden cart of books slowly assessing the signs when he made eye contact with you, his eyes lighting up for a moment before turning away to his path down the aisles. You couldn’t deny his uniform suited him well, and you were almost interested enough to want to go and speak to him. He had an intriguing aloofness that drew you to him, an impressive talk in his walk, as if every breathing entity worshiped the ground he walked on and more.

You shrugged the thoughts off and went back to perusing through the shelf, where you finally came across a potential book: Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka in hardcover. You reached for it excitedly and began to tug it out when you noticed some unusual resistance. You tugged at it a little harder but the book wouldn’t budge. In fact it was being pulled further the opposite direction–someone else was trying to grab it.

With minimal effort, the opposing force finally yanked Kafka out of your grasp.

“Hey!” You sharply whispered at the person on the other side of the shelf. You could only see a glimpse of a person’s broad chest shifting lower until you came face to face with him, the gap between the bookshelf being the only distance, ‘wooden cart guy’. You felt red in your cheeks for a moment from his handsome features being so close, but reverted back to frustration for your book. His doe eyes just stared back at you, eyebrows slightly in a curious raise, waiting. He knew what he was doing though, the game of cat and mouse had already begun for him. You just thought he grabbed the book by chance, despite your taking hold of it first.

“I’m sorry, did you want this?” he asked with a smug tone, a subtle smirk forming on his lips before relaxing again. You rolled your eyes and felt your shoulders tense, 'someone hold me back from this boy’

“Yeah, so if I could have it back now,” You whispered with a hiss before giving him your best intimidating glare, “that’d be great.”

His mouth merely paused, then spread into a big smile, exposing his bunny teeth, before cracking up in a cheeky giggle with crinkles forming around his eyes, “Cute. Was that supposed to be your serious face?”

“Well—” The red came back to your cheeks and you darted your gaze away, straightening up from the book shelf as well. You crossed your arms impatiently, unsure of what to say until you held out your hand across the gap and mumbled out the words, “Just– can I–may I please have the book?” Who were you kidding? You were never any good at confrontation, why else would you spend time in the library with every chance you got. This was your safe place, your routine, calm and quiet. Not to mention, the person you’d run into was this mysterious and attractive new character in your domain; otherwise your comfort zone.

Expecting the cool surface of a paperback to touch the palm of your hand, you’re taken aback when you receive something much smaller, rounder. You pulled your hand back to find a peculiar gadget in your hand, no bigger than an inch, black and oval-like. You examine the thing, perplexed, keeping your hand open, fixated and confused as to why this stranger would hand you the thing. You looked back at him through gaps of the bookshelf and were about to ask what is was when he suddenly cleared his throat and fixed his posture. His voice was a murmur beyond the book shelf, complacent and smoothly averting you from your curiosity, “Alright, how 'bout I check you out?”

“Pardon?!” your voice remained in a whisper with your face scrunched from a mix of panic and confusion. 'I get it brain, he’s cute, and his low voice to keep from disrupting the serenity of the library was a little to-die-for, but get it together.’ your mind flooded with yellow flags.

“The book. Let’s check it out.” His voice was both firm yet polite but his playful smirk kept you on guard. He was pleased to see you stumbling over your words, unsure of your next move. He disappeared from the bookshelf gap, and so you quickly followed.

'He totally meant for me to take that the wrong way,’ disinterested, you slumped along before halting at the wooden semi-oval counters of the main library desk. This boy was definitely trying to tug you out of your comfort zone, and you weren’t having it.

“Mrs. Kim never had an assistant besides me in here,” You said as you idly rolled a pencil back and forth, trying to make up for the previous weakness in your manner by making small talk.

“I’m what you’d call a-–compulsory volunteer,” he said casually giving you a smile that flaunted more flirtation than a usual approachable geniality. “You’ll be seeing me around for a while, so I’m Jungkook. You are?”

'So you caused too much trouble, and now you’re being forced to work here,’ you thought to yourself before replying with your name bluntly. Your eyes wandered as he typed your name into the system. The computer buzzed and beeped, finally an error window popped up on the screen. Jungkook hid a slight curve of his mouth to the side, 'Just according to plan’, he thought. You were too focused on appearing nonchalant that you didn’t catch it.

“Ah tsk tsk, Ms. Y/N, I can’t check you out,“ he started,'stop wording it like that’ your inner voice fumed, and you could hear an exiguous enjoyment in his voice. "You have an overdue book: Demian.”

You were dumbfounded, you could have sworn you had returned it just before your spare ended the other day. You jerk your bag over your shoulder, rustling through it, your brows tinged with concern. It wasn’t in there. All the while, Jungkook watched on leaning back on the chair with arms crossed behind his head, amused by how easily unsettled you had become over a negligible matter. He couldn’t help but feel compelled to play with you more.

You looked back up to the boy, who smiled like a toddler hardly containing a secret. You immediately grew skeptical.

“I mean, I could just get the system to think you gave it back so you can take this book out and you could find the real book later,” He talked like a pompous businessman making a proud pitch but you listened anyway. “That is if–” He dragged the last word.

'Don’t say it’, You thought raising your brow tapping a finger incessantly on the counter and braced yourself for the incoming request for a date or even sleazier.

“You keep the gift I gave you,” he ended his note with a bright goofy smile, awaiting your response.

You were caught off guard by the unexpected offer. You let out a deep breath to keep your cool before you gave him a casual smile with undertones of confusion and reluctance. It sounded like a harmless request to you so you immediately wanted to agree but something in the pit of your stomach rolled with doubt, “That’s it?”

He nodded coolly before turning the chair back to the screen, looking like he was attending to other "compulsory volunteer” work. You stood there, feet rocking back and forth from heel to toe, unsure of why the request seemed dangerous. Deep in contemplation, you gave the corner of your bottom lip a little tug with your teeth. You had no idea of what the little device was, was it safe to just accept it for a book? Jungkook cleared his throat, eliciting you to lift your gaze back up to him. You couldn’t tear from Jungkook’s gaze, he seemed to be reeling you effortlessly out of your comfort zone, putting you in a trance strong enough for the word to escape easily from your docile lips “Okay.”

You didn’t know why but your heart pounded against your chest after uttering the one simple word, and you felt your throat had dried a bit. Maybe because part of you did know what it was, what it could be, and part of you wanted out of the comfort zone you had so meticulously carved for yourself through the library. Jungkook smiled before handing you his phone, earning an “Eh?” from you, some releasing some tension from the precedent silence.

“I’ll need your number for affirmation that you still have it,” he joked but something in his voice made it sound like more of a command. You submitted, because the request seemed admittedly harmless enough. What’s the worst that could come from giving this guy my number? You pick up the phone from the counter, your movement almost painfully slow in not wanting to show how much your hands were shaking. When you glanced at Jungkook, a cheeky innocent smile was plastered on his face, encouraging you to follow through.

*Save Contact*

Your phone screen blinked on, new message. It was already five past midnight, your friends knew your nose was deep in a book at this time and knew not to bug you so it captured you attention. You stopped your reading and unlocked the phone to see that it was from an unsaved number.

(555)-221-2858 - 12:05 AM - : Taking good care of my gift? -JK

You glanced over at your bag, you hadn’t taken it out since your exchange at the library, and suddenly the pit in your stomach that had vanished upon leaving the library came back. The strong sense of uncertainty and willingness to your adhere to your new acquaintance was foreign to you. Finally, you typed a reply,

(Y/N) - 12:06 AM : still in my bag, safe and sound i guess?

You stared tantalizingly at the three dots as he began typing moments after you had sent your text.

Jungkook - 12:06 AM : that’s not where a gift should be kept you know :(

Your head tilted with intrigue, 'And what could you be inciting, Jungkook?’

(Y/N) - 12:07 AM : so where do you suppose i should keep it?

This time the three dots took a little longer to appear, and you were annoyed at yourself, caught waiting for some strange boy’s text. He seemed to be typing forever but really, not more than a minute had passed. Part of you was craving any kind of conversation with him, and you couldn’t place why.

Jungkook - 12:10 AM : only the rightful place that specific gift should be

Jungkook - 12:12 AM : your panties

Your body tensed up in reading his last text, but you oddly weren’t disgusted. This wasn’t coming from some greased up, saggy-jeaned, prepubescent, axe-reeking teenage boy. This was coming from Jungkook, the compulsory volunteer with the bright bunny smile, an assertive walk in his talk, and apparently an authoritative hold of your inhibitions. This was what part of you guessed the gift was for, but it was such a small (hopeful) voice, it may as well had not been there at all. You type and barely construct a reply with enough sense to knock down this boy’s smug demeanor.

(Y/N) - 12:15 AM : i don’t understand why a gift should have business anywhere near there.

Jungkook had a small smile at the corners of his lips as he read your replies, 'Even through your texts, I can see right through you, (Y/N)’

Jungkook - 12:17 AM : come to school with the gift the way i want it and i’ll make you understand.

In pressing send, Jungkook was already certain of your next mood, he could feel your curiosity, your wonder, your desire to be driven out of your sanctuary away from the safety of peace and quiet, and he was more than happy to be doing the driving. Meanwhile, you were succumbing to the insane suggestion, something about the words “i’ll make you” staring back at you from the brightly lit screen. You replied nearly five minutes later after being torn between putting down and picking up the phone to type.

(Y/N) - 12:22 AM : i’m going to sleep gnight

At nearly 1 am, you hopped onto your bed, your bag at your feet, the gift still waiting for you. You needlessly look to your door to ensure lights were off, and that everyone was asleep. Before you knew it, your hand reached for the bag.

Between classes, you returned the book after realizing you’d placed it back in its shelf instead of turning it in the book-return bin. Having no time left, you caught yourself scanning the library for a familiar tall, brown-haired figure. You shook your head and rushed to your English class.

To your surprise, Jungkook was the first person you saw upon entering the classroom. 'I would have noticed you before,’ you thought as you watched him walking over to his desk after talking to a friend. He seemed like any regular student, approachable and humourous. That is, until he looked over to you, and the familiar glint was back in his eyes, and he gave you a casual knowing smile and nod. His eyebrow seemed to raise as if to ask you if you had the gift as he directed. You licked your lips subconsciously, noticing they had dried and swallowed, about to nod, before stopping yourself to walk to your seat instead.

You begin pulling out the essentials, when your phone lights up in your bag, and you take it out to find a new message notification. You swiped with little hesitance.

Jungkook - 10:23 AM : I can find out for myself you know

A stubborn nature grumbled in you, or more just the urge to challenge the boy to push you further.

(Y/N) - 10:24 : I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.

Jungkook looked up from his phone to look over to you. You were in the second row, in the middle of the room, and he was only a row behind, a few seats down from you. He could find out with a clear viewpoint of the show. He began typing again.

Jungkook 10:28 AM : pay close attention in class, (Y/N)

After reading his last text, your brows furrowed and you put the phone away as your teacher walked in.

With a keenly hidden smirk, Jungkook reached into his pocket, the teacher’s lesson was the last thing on his mind.

Your phone lit up, and you reflexively hide it under the table, to check what Jungkook could possibly be up to now.

Jungkook - 10:55 AM : :)

'A smiley face? What kind of–’ *Click*

'What is this?’ your entire body flexed, you instantly sat up straight, your hands gripping at the edges of your desk. Your legs coiled around the legs of your chair. You felt your chest having to rise and fall noticeably, as the room seemed to be getting warmer. The pencil in your hand trembled and you blinked a long two seconds as your mind processed the sensation between your thighs. Your breathing, labored, as you struggled to keep your voice in check and your expression stoic. All the while, Jungkook tilted his head to better see your newly discovered distress. He bit his lip to see the way you squeezed your thighs together, desperately crossing your ankles; the way you gripped on the desk like your life depended on it; and the way your lips slightly parted to reveal the most subtle pant. He licked his lips at the sight, and stealthily wrapped his hand over his bulge, squeezing slightly before adjusting it.  

Jungkook’s gift was nestled in the middle of your lining, pressing, no, vibrating against your clit, at an unforgiving fervent pace. The sudden stimulation had you almost jumping out of your seat, catching you completely off guard. Your felt your lungs cave in upon realizing the teacher had been calling your name, directing you to the projector, repeating his question,

“What does the glass ceiling represent, (Y/N)?” he didn’t look impressed by your getting distracted from the lesson.

Jungkook’s devious smile peaked the surface once more with a slight chuckle as he looked over at what you’d do. You squinted at the screen, composing yourself, pushing yourself to pretend that the rush of pleasure wasn’t coursing through every nerve in your body, emanating from your core.

“The glass ceiling,” you began sounding more shy than vulgar, “is an abstract barrier that prevents–” *Click* You gasped abruptly, catching more of your classmates’ attention, and receiving concerned stares. The vibrating grew more intense, pushing you closer to the edge. Your could barely hide the frantic look in your eyes as you attempted to continue.

“Prevents women from attaining higher positions in a hierarchy,” You practically had no spaces between the words as you tried your hardest to finish your answer in one breath. Some slight relief washed over you, lifting some pressure off your shoulders. ‘Goddammit Jungkook’

The teacher raised a skeptical brow at you, cleared his throat, and returned to the lesson after affirming that your answer was correct. The class proceeded to slowly revert back to the regular classroom atmosphere, their attention no longer on you, excluding the few lingering looks. You proceeded to look as normal and unfazed as you could until the last of the stares and murmurs had died down.

You glanced at Jungkook who flashed you an innocent smile, and your panicked glance turned into a glare.In an instant, the innocent smile had vanished, and you felt your pussy quivering at the sight of his tongue gliding along his bottom lip, and biting down, adding a tint of red in his lips. He batted his eyes, inviting, challenging you, before reaching his hand into his pocket again. *Click*

You’re flooded with waves of impassioned gratification, you could swear that if you weren’t in the middle of a classroom, your eyes would be rolled up to a close by now. Your converse scuffled against the tiled floor, toes curling and feet sliding to straighten your legs. You bit harder on your lip, a quiet moan escaping the restraints of your willpower. You looked back at Jungkook, to beg him to stop the agonizing bliss. At this point, you were getting so close to an extreme high that you’d an impatient longing for, you didn’t know whether you wanted him to stop or turn the intensity of the convulsions even more.

His eyes were glued to you, getting more and more turned on with the way you were getting off to his gift. He longed to kiss that flushed face, bury his face between your legs, and pull your hair as he pounded mercilessly into you while the toy vibrated against your clit. He wanted to hear the greed in your moans after giving you orgasm after orgasm until you became addicted to his touch; until you wanted nothing more than to have him inside you.

As he fantasized, keeping his eyes fixated on you with his bulging becoming increasingly visible, you kept his gaze. You imagined his strong hand pinning your arms over your head against the wall, his other hand wrapped around your throat with a grip rough and gentle enough to allow a generous breath in and out of your lungs, as he ravaged your dripping heat. The vibrator was so intense and you had become so wet, you could feel it slipping between your lips and touching your clit directly. The rush made your entrance quiver and your grip on the table made your knuckles white. Your breathing became choppy, stopping completely as you felt you were only a moment before reaching the carnal climax. Being in the middle of a classroom with the high risks of being noticed only added to the thrill. You closed your eyes, jaw dropped ajar, keeping your pants light and silent. Just a little more, the friction against your clit drove you over the edge, you were going to come, so your eyes fluttered open to look over at Jungkook again. Whatever resolve you had before was no where to be found. All that mattered to you was the sweet release, and Jungkook gave you a knowing look before slowly inching his fingers to his pocket one last time.

You stared, bracing yourself, biting your tongue, anything you could do to prevent letting out a most embarrassing moan as you climaxed in the middle of all your unsuspecting classmates.

*Click*

“Eh?” you freeze, you could feel your body wincing in disappointed. The vibrating came to a complete stop, the sensation gone leaving you in a whole other level of hopeless torment. So close, small tears had welled up in your eyes as you looked over weakly to Jungkook, who gave you only a wink.

“That son of a bitch,” you cursed under your breath that you couldn’t deny sounded more like a sensual whine.

A/N : I may have completely changed the direction of this story as well as the theme. Idk i just didn’t feel the the original had enough sexual tension, not enough sin at all. Decided to fix that, hope you enjoyed, I’ll be here washing off with a dab of holy water because this is just the tip of the iceberg

#jungkook #smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #kookie #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic #fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts jungkook #rj is bangtan scum

[ratusalim]

What is Autism?

"Autism” , the Developmental physician said with a sigh, when delivering her unwavering diagnosis for my sons lack of verbal speech and interest in everything else in the room besides her, after spending all of 40 minutes with him. I look at her and the blood drains from my face as soon as I see it in her eyes, Pity. Of course, this meant something bad. I’m not sure what exactly it meant, but the trained doctor human is telling me that it is not good, what reason would I have not to believe her? For weeks and months following, I was in constant flight or fight mode, momma bear mode my friends call it. Looking for the best schools, looking for possible medication, how do we cure this Autism thing, how do we fix him? There is a small window for change they all said, and if you treat it ASAP your child will be “better”. Just pay this huge bill quickly, and leave your child in this room that looks clinical and unfriendly with all of our staff dressed in nurse scrubs – we know what we’re doing here, we have been doing this for years. No one ever was selling happiness, they were all selling a cure. I am ashamed to admit this was our lives for the better part of a year, we were scared, worried and uninformed, and all the placed we tried to get information from, counted on that. After months seeing my sons happiness slowly decline, I stopped, and asked myself a question – Actually, what IS autism? All the information I have gathered up until that point was all over the place, every child different, people talking about high functioning and low functioning and this little word that keeps being emphasized – SPECTRUM. Basically, you can have a little bit of autism or a lot, results may vary from person to person. WHAT?! This is what I condensed the answer down to, emphasis on the word CONDENSED. “Autism is a communication and social disorder, which is coupled with exacerbated sensory needs that need to be understood and managed if the person so desires– results will vary from person to person” When I settled on that answer, I realized and through to myself – “Is that it?” , He thinks a little to the left, he sucks at communicating, and he feels bigger in his body with all his senses. Of course this is something we can figure out. Together he can teach us what the best way is for him to communicate, and then he can let us know when the outside is getting too much and what he needs to do to feel in control in that moment. Why is that something that needs to be cured? I then went in search of autistics who love who they are. My son needs to learn to love who he is , and learn to be the best version of himself, and that includes being surrounded by people that encourage him to optimize his autism, not cure it. I am part of a group called – “Ask me, I’m autistic”, and posed this question. Here are some of the incredible answers I got from other autistic members. “Tania Melnyczuk  – Stimming is part of my autism. Sensory overload is as much part of my autism as dysmenorrhea is part some other women’s femaleness. I haven’t had sensory overload for several years now. It was very bad for some years. “ “Tania Melnyczuk – My definition? OK, lemme try… This is a bit more than a definition, and I will probably have to edit this.  Autism is an umbrella term for a number of neurodevelopmental phenomena. (In layman’s terms, “neurodevelopmental” has to do with “how your nervous system is designed” or “the way you’ve been wired”.) Autistic people have ways of responding to information that differ from those of average people. They may be particularly good at seeing the detail (literally), or seeing the big picture (figuratively). There are numerous other characteristics which autistic people may have. Not all autistic people have the same autistic characteristics. Whether autism is beneficial or detrimental depends largely on the way in which other people view autism, because the environment within which autistic people exist is largely created by non-autistic people. Just like some strengths and vulnerabilities are more common amongst people of a specific gender, age, or skin colour, so autistic people have particular potential strengths and vulnerabilities. For example, autistic people and their non-autistic relatives are more likely to have connective tissue disorders, channelopathies or mitochondrial disorders than the rest of the population do. It is unclear whether some difficulties exist exclusively in autistic people. (For example, the “mind-body disconnect” described by non-speaking autistic writers such as Emma Zurcher-Long perhaps does not occur in non-autistic people.) Likewise, there may be strengths which occur in a some autistics that do not occur in the rest of the population. When autistic people get sick or upset, they sometimes behave in ways which average people do not recognize as a reasonable response to an internal or external problem. People may then try to “treat the autism” instead of addressing the problem. Some people find autistic ways of thinking, autistic ways of expressing joy, autistic ways of coping with difficulties, autistic ways of exploring the world or autistic ways of having fun too different from their own. They try to destroy these differences by trying to make autistic people behave in ways which they believe are more appropriate. Working hard to help autistics appear more normal is called “normative violence”, and is perpetrated by people who regard their own neurotype as superior. As sociologist Anne McGuire explains, normative violence against autistic people is not just driven by overtly nasty people, but also by many powerful autism charities that describe autism in negative ways and endorse harming autistic people “for their own good”. Professionals (such as educators and therapists) who harm autistic people become part of the cycle of abuse, and the abuse is then praised by society as a whole. Autistic people are also vulnerable to bullying and discrimination from others in society. The dynamics of neurological elitism and ableism towards autistic people work in similar ways to the dynamics of racism or sexism. As a result of this, some autistic people may learn to view themselves through the eyes of those who define them in negative ways. When disabled people adopt ableist views, it’s called “internalized ableism”. If a person is valued “in spite of their autism”, it is not helpful, because autistic people are not separate from their autism. Autism can be optimized (made to work well) if autistic people and those around them recognize the value of diversity. ”  ” Tania Melnyczuk –  Autism does define me, though. So do my gender, certain aspects of my culture, and choices I have made in my life. Autism is defining part of who I am, because my autism drives many aspects of the way I think and respond to the world. *Credit to Nick Walker* “ “Beth Smith Âû  – A different operating system, such as Linux, which itself has many different flavors and furthermore differences between installations in each system. Many used to a windows or Mac world would think of such systems as faulty versions of what they’re used to, but we are just different and better at different things, for example Linux may not always have “ease of use” for the unaware, but makes a wonderful server to those who know such things. ”  “Richard Higgs – From my perspective: Autism is a way of experiencing the world that appears to be different from the way most of the population experience it. On a sensory level, things get pretty intense and it is hard to filter out any of the constant barrage of stuff that comes at you from all your senses, all the time. That often makes it difficult to communicate, because our brains are so “full” (there are other reasons for the communication issues, too. More on that later). When there is too much of all of that we lose control of our already tenuous filters and have meltdowns. NTs don’t seem to share our “thoughts and feels” thing: every thought, image, idea, feeling, concept, is networked with everything else, at the same time, so for us to see the “whole picture” of something, we need to take all of those things into account simultaneously, and this is really, really hard to put into words. In those cases it is easier to just shut up than try to put that 3-dimensional network into a linear narrative. With all this overload, it helps to have something concrete to hold on to, some repetitive, automatic action that takes up a part of the reptile brain so that we don’t get completely sucked into an abyss of thoughts about thoughts about thoughts, and this is why we stim. We like to be precise, so we often come across as pedantic, but sometimes we also just get quiet, because there are no words that accurately express the complexity of what we are thinking or feeling. Empathy is a tough one: intuitively we get very involved in how you must be feeling. Very, very involved. Problem is that our already overloaded brains have trouble processing all of that, and you are so damn COMPLEX. It is hard for us to simply acknowledge that you are sad, when we know that you are 37% sad, 8% relieved, 23% angry, 1% blissful, etc.: what I said earlier about being precise. Change: Now imagine you have managed to gain some sort of control over how you are in a situation. You have those filters sort-of in place, you have your stims set up, you have planned to be nice and say a whole lot of meaningless stuff to people about how you like their hair and when they last washed their car, and then all of a sudden the universe throws you a curve-ball. All your careful preparation for survival goes our the window when something doesn’t go according to that plan. The noise gets louder, the lights get brighter, the label in your t-shirt get scratchier, the crease in your sock digs into your ankle, that woman’s perfume smells like a gazillion jasmine trees, that gherkin on the canape gets 800% more sour and salty… Meltdown time. Then there are the weird rules about what is socially appropriate. Those rules don’t make sense to us because they have nothing to do with physical survival or how people are really feeling (what is “Fine, thank you” anyway?), or what they are passionate about or interested in. We have lots of interests, and those get pretty intense, too. We would like to share our enthusiasm about trains, pre-colonial Maori art, the Fibonacci series… because you don’t seem to be all that enthusiastic about anything. Anything that matters, anyway. “ This is what I have learnt so far: Autism is different for every autist to varying degrees. Autistics communicate differently, the world is bigger, louder, and the lights brighter Autism IS NOT a scary thing that we need to cure.                                                             Autistic is something that you ARE, not something that you HAVE or GET. It is part of what makes you, you. Yes, it can be daunting, lonely, difficult, challenging and isolating, because of communication challenges. Sensory matters are complicated, because they are different for everyone, they are highlighted in autistic people, but can be managed if we learn what THAT person needs and what they DON’T. Together, figure out new ways to communicate. Talk to other Autists. Get to know them, they will show you a world you have never seen, heard or felt before And let me tell you… It IS incredible.