Day 4! House on haunted hill!!

So me and tates have an au for today!

Overview: Nanba is a museum of the occult with the inmates as spirits that possess items or haunted dolls. Momoko is curator with Mitsuru as her assistant. The guards are security guards and sei, hitoshi and houzuki are in charge of maintaining the items well kept. Noriko and Enki also possess objects as ghosts but are kept upstairs, kept away in secret.

Inmates and what they possess

Jyugo - doll, given to him in juvey

Uno - his lucky card when he was alive

Nico - medical training doll

Rock - bowl

Tsukumo - kunai

Liang - porcelain doll

Upa - ancient scrolls

Qi - smoking pipe

Honey - brooch

Trois - pocket watch

Musashi - university plushie

Enki - monkey’s paw

Noriko - staff

How they died:

Jyugo: human experiment while in juvey

Uno: drowned by a gang that lost to him in poker who believed he was cheating

Nico: medical experiments in the hospital

Rock: poisoned

Tsukumo: his lacking skills as a shinobi cost him his life

Liang: died in battle

Upa: part of a noble family, kidnapped to be held for ransom and killed when he fought back

Qi: died of a mysterious disease

Honey and Trois: arrested and killed on acts of theft

Musashi: died in a university fire

Enki: died fighting

Noriko: died if a disease

Autism: A Love|Hate Relationship

I see posts “I love being autistic” and “I hate being autistic”. Quite often (almost all) do not say why. Being autistic, I want to to know why. I want to know why about everything :). I will try to give you some whys about my feelings on the topic. Why do I love being autistic and why do I hate it.

I love the sensitivity - for me walking from a warm carpet to a cool hardwood floor is intensely erotic. Feeling the grit of concrete scraping my feet as I skip along the sidewalk while smelling the Ancient Guardian’s pipe smoke is exciting in ways I cannot make words for. The bark of a tree scratching my hands while I climb  makes me shiver.

And I hate the sensitivity. The fear that has no basis when I see sudden flashes of light. The rage when a fluorescent light flickers. The need to hide from fireworks displays that I know are miles away. The meltdowns from a flashing image on my computer screen.

I hate that I cannot make mouth noise without major effort because I do not think in words. That I cannot say what I think because there are no words for the smell of Baby’s breath in the morning when she forces a kiss on me before I’m even awake. That I cannot tell her how it feels to me.

I love that I think in experience. That every time I think of Baby’s greeting it includes the feeling of her weight pressing down, the smell of her breath, the image of her face, the feel of her skin on mine. That every mention of something becomes an experience (once I decipher the words). That reading of climbing a tree becomes the feel of bark, the smell of pine, the stickiness of sap.

I hate that when I get annoyed it becomes a flaming forest fire of rage.

I love that when I get pleased it becomes an erotic delight that makes me shiver.

I hate it when I do not understand words. There is no “I love” to go with this. I cannot think of a good side to not understanding mouth noise. I don’t even get a break from not hearing it - I have to hear it and deal with my brain trying to make sense of it and failing (like hearing a language similar to your own but not the same so you constantly try to translate and fail).

There are some logic things my brain does behind the scenes that I love - but they are behind the scenes and I haven’t been able to describe them. They are useful enough that people hire me to do computer work in spite of the cost of making places safe for me, so they must be good things.

Overall, I would not recommend being born autistic. It’s not a horrible fate, but it’s not the best option. An elf in a forest in a land with dragons, and knights in shiny armor, and wizards of great wisdom would be better. Choose that.

There are things about being autistic.