1 Work in self-inserts isekais transmigrations or whatever you call it
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Lauren curled her lip. "What? Are you like, retarded?"
"Yes," I said, unironically. "I have autism."
The chatter of those sitting at our lunch table suddenly died and they stared at me with varying levels of discomfort.
Jessica laughed nervously. "You’re joking, right?"
I turned to her, staring somewhere above her shoulder. "No."