#itsnotpatsy

“i’m busy, too,” you tilt your gaze at her and your head follows suit. the hellcat doesn’t give a shit what elvira mistress of the dark is doing, because it’s not something you need to worry about. you’re out on official hellcat business, which means you have a bust to make. the police are vaguely involved with the situation– corrupt cops and new york city? unsurprising.

around here, you can trust the masks much quicker than the people not wearing them.

“i’ve got a few nights to ruin,” your voice drops– kitten– you rumble with it a little, at least, mostly because maybe you can both be fucking civil this time. –even if you’re not, you can be enjoyably not civil, “you wanna come?”

        Yes, Hela finds she does. Perhaps she and Hellcat can be of use to each other. She does want to complete her mission, though she cares little enough about who hurts who on the streets of New York; mostly she wants something to accomplish, world conquest no longer an option. Asgard destroyed, the Bifrost shattered. Midgard bristling with defenders, and ways of bringing her to heel.

        Speaking of which.

        “First,” she says, and changes angles, stepping back into shadow, between Trish and the nearby wall--hidden. She reaches up and peels her earpiece from her ear once again. That won’t immediately make them suspect--she does it all the time, irritated by the constant squawking of her handlers and supervising agents. “You have claws. Get rid of this.”

Heck yeah. I imagine the difference in sensory stuff must be a radical detail to be able to describe.

yeah! the sensory stuff is true, 

but i was mostly talking about... hm, how to word it. it’s a combination of a autistic people having own culture of social cues and trauma that is shared among austistic people.

for example, a lot of autistic people have had to literally learn body language and how to tell sarcasm ect to try to ‘pass’ for non autistic, which means we learn to describe body language differently, we learn to describe other people’s emotions better because we constantly have to process ‘tells’.

examples: look people in the eye, don’t clap your hands softly, if someone has their arms folded it means they’re upset, if someone’s voice is all wobbly it means they’re upset, sometimes a  voice going up and down means sarcasm. this makes it really easy for me to write actions into the scene, it’s more like a puzzle i guess.

oh boy that also ties into the trauma of having to pass, the teaching isn’t always nice and it’s really confusing why all these rules matter-- which makes me more intentional in how i describe body language or other details.

and there is research into mindblindness, where people with autism (im speaking generally here) have trouble like, seeing other people’s perspective? like, if something is happening and someone is upset, my first reaction is ‘i’m not upset, why is this person upset?’ (i respond ‘more appropriately’ now since forcing/faking empathy was drilled into me, which ironically makes me better at understanding a character’s emotions because i have to literally do the same thing to IRL people)

in my writing, or more my reading process (which informs my writing) i will read a book with a really specific & vivid description of a room but i still keep seeing a room i’ve seen in real life that is similar because it’s hard to imagine something wholesale sometimes? so then because i’m constantly having to tie things back into real experiences it makes my writing feel more alive, though it does limit topics i can write about sometimes. (basically Write What You Know but turned up & twisted around)

                    SHE DOESN'T mean to hover but she can’t help but be worried. trish had come crawling through her window like the walking dead. minimal injury but that hadn’t seemed to matter much to claire when trish, lacking the grace of her namesake, had stumbled into her, positively exhausted. they had been talking      not arguing       for weeks now about how hard trish was pushing herself. ’ someone has to be out there. ’ trish would tell her and it would end the conversation every time. how could claire ever really argue with saving people? she could only argue for moderation. don’t destroy yourself trying to save everyone, claire would beg silently.

                         a hero who knew their own limits, that’s what claire wanted trish to be. 

❛   you done in there, trish?    ❜ with a gentle knock on the door she cracks it open (  there's nothing she hasn't seen before.  ) claire can't help but laugh at the sight of trish squished into her bathtub a few sizes too small. it fits claire perfectly, but claire doesn't have the build of an amazon.

    she crosses the room in a few steps and runs a hand through trish's damp hair. she'd found the energy to wash it somehow, though that energy had run out quickly apparently. trish was dozing lightly. at the feeling of claire's hand trish looked up with drowsy eyes and claire looked back with soft ones. she couldn't be bothered to wipe the tenderness from her face at seeing hellcat look so sleepy. grabbing a towel out of the rack she motioned for trish to stand up. she wasn't strong enough to drag the hero out of the tub herself.

claire guided trish to sit down on the closed toilet, and wrapped one towel around her head. once she was done she kissed trish's forehead and moved to the rest of her body, not wanting her to get cold. she wasn't sure if trish could get cold from a little less than warm air on wet skin but why take the chance? stress and exhaustion weakened any immune system. 

   ❛   i got you a robe for when you're staying over since you can't fit mine.    ❜ her voice is quiet as she pats dry trish's hips. something peaceful hangs in the air around them. dare she think it         the moment drips with domesticity. the thought makes her pause and then just smile easily. some things don't need to be dwelled on. some things can just be easy.

she drapes said robe over trish's shoulders, stopping to rub them gently. it's as soft a robe as she could find. claire is always keeping in mind trish's newfound sensitivity. she only manages to drag the other up because they help her by standing, a little unsteadily at first. she puts an arm around trish's middle and presses them close together as she leads them both to bed.

There’s been years where it was difficult for Cat to distinguish between balconies throughout the world. Oh, a balcony wasn’t a balcony, after all, and the feeling always hung in the air, different, no matter where she was...but anything unique was always easy to smother with that delightful little cocktail of jet lag and a cell phone attached to her ear like this year’s Graff collection. A constant hanging weight for years. So, mornings in Beijing melted into evenings in Bangladesh. The mountain air in Colorado shifted into the nighttime cool of the Appalachians. Metropolis, Gotham, Tokyo--It was all different, but loneliness--

Well, maybe that tinges things a bit more than jet lag. Blurs it all together until her days are weeks and weeks months.

It was exciting, once. Now it’s just the day-to-day, another few hours away from her son--her home--and...a woman whose quickly familiar smile is becoming a little bit more of her day to day. Which might be a little telling that today that loneliness seems a little less, despite the snow, and the romance, and the absence of her sons. 

It’s not uncommon to spend the actual holidays out of the city, pushing through meetings and airports--Carter was usually with his father on some of the bigger ones, celebrated a week or so before--and business, this time, took her to the radio spires of a familiar city with one Trish Walker, the star she was aiming to get syndicated at the start of next quarter. It’s a toss-up on whether or not their return flight being snowed in on Christmas Eve is a positive or negative, that emergency hotel booking working out in their favor. Fingers trace snow along the balcony rail before flicking it away, turning around to offer a smile to those night-sharpened eyes behind her, that city that never sleeps blinking lights and horns not quite muffled by snow down below. She leans up against it despite the cold, changed or cold. Yet, anyways.  

Not the “cat” you’d expect him to hang out with ;P

❛  just doing my job.  ❜     though both must know that that is a lie.  brienne certainly does.  though her feelings are murky and unexplored  ,    so they do it in a way they know how.  affection given easily  ,    and far from the job description.

this is actually one of the things abt lilith that’s very hard for me to say, because… i find her somewhat opaque still, although i feel MASSIVELY enlightened by this season and by other stuff i’ve been reading/working on; and especially because lilith’s approach to relationships is so formed by trauma. to be in a relationship and to be totally comfortable with another person would be very difficult for her and it would require her processing shit she hasn’t yet 100% processed.

right now, i can say that… i think that one of the hardest things for lilith is to just Be. it’s very very very very very difficult for her to not be hyper-conscious of the Performance she is putting on for her Audience and to always be trying to perform in a way that will get whatever her desired result is. any person that she’s really in love with, that she feels comfortable around, will be someone she doesn’t have to perform for.