#its because hes fucking VISIBLY AUTISTIC

[mangocaticecream]

its so hard liking characters that a majority of a fandom hates. cant go a day without seeing someone hating .. painful

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

my mum's staying for the weekend pray for me

[transsexualprophet]

this is also just partially because i got rsd this afternoon from the guy im seeing but also im right and i should get to kill

[rjalker]

Dear people who aren't physically disabled who plan to write fantasy settings:

[ID: Several images taken from the Geordi La Forge yes and no meme format, with Geordi holding out a hand disapprovingly for the no section, then pointing in approval for the yes section.

The first image is the meme:

No: "Saying the existance of magic in your setting means there are no disabled people (this literally just means disabled people are killed. AKA eugenics)"

Yes: "Having disabled people who use magical mobility aids and other assistive devices. Realizing that someone is still disabled even if their prosthetic arm is made of magic instead of plastic."

This is followed by four more panels of yes section:

"Geordi la Forge is still literally disabled. His visor helping him does not erase his disability and make him magically abled."

"Toph from Avatar: The Last Airbender is still literally disabled even though her Earthbending helps her. It does not make her disability ~magically~ go away."

"Having your disability be accomodated does not mean the disability goes away. Having a prosthetic hand, even one that's made of magic, does not mean you're not disabled."

"Magical mobility aids do not mean disabled people don't exist. It just means they use magical mobility aids instead of plastic or metal ones. A limb made of magic is still a prosthetic even if it's made of the soul of the universe instead of plastic and metal."

Then another no panel: "'There's no disabled people beacuse magic'".

Then one last yes panel: "'Magic helps disabled people in a variety of ways'".

End ID.]

This also applies to science fiction; just because Luke Skywalker's prosthetic hand is super advanced doesn't mean it's no longer a prosthetic, or that he's not disabled. Same with Darth Vader - just because he has a suit that lets him breathe and walk around doesn't mean he's not disabled. (And Star Wars' propensity for making the villains visibly disabled while the heroes disabilities get covered up by super advanced prosthetics is a topic that deserves its own post, especially with how ableist some of the authors of the books are. Troy Denning is especially ableist)

Edit:

Because people keep being fucking obnoxious and ableist in the tags, yes,,, motherfuckers, if you refuse to have disabled people in your setting, that does make you fucking ableist. If you say that the magic is used to cure all disabled people and that's why they don't exist, that's fucking eugenics.

You cannot ""cure"", more like remove all disabilities without fucking eugenics. Magically automatically destroying disabled fetuses (a very fucking popular trope!) is eugenics.

The only way to fucking "cure" autism is to fucking kill all autistic people, also known as eugenics!

What about people with PTSD? Do you just fucking brainwash them so they aren't traumatized anymore?

Do you force all Deaf people to be able to hear? Do you force all blind people to be able to see? Do you force all anosmics to be able to smell?

Do you magically force everyone with a speech impediment to speak to your standards?

Do you force everyone born with bodily or facial differences to live up to your fucking standard of beauty?

You cannot fucking say "disablities don't exist in this universe because magic cures everything" without inherently saying that eugenics exists in your fucking universe.

Not all fucking disabilities need a cure. If you ""cured"" my autism I'd just be fucking dead. You'd literally just be changing me into what you think is fucking acceptable.

Stop fucking arguing in defence of ableists on my fucking post so you can pretend that eugenics has never been written about in magical settings when it is extremely fucking prevalent.

And while we're fucking at it, let your gods damned characters become disabled over the course of their story, and call them disabled within the fucking story. I don't care if they're a robot. I don't care if they have magic. Not all fucking damage can be fixed. Curses exist. Hardware can go out of fucking date and no longer be manufactured anywhere.

Let your characters become disabled and do not magically fucking cure them back to brand new every single time they get hurt. The only thing you accomplish by doing that is destroying any chance of ever having stakes.

No, "magical healing leaves scars on the mind from the memory of the injuries though!!!!" is not fucking good enough. Let your characters have scars. Let them become disabled. Stop being fucking ableist cowards.

Edit number fucking 2:

No, motherfuckers, you do not get to comment "if the disability was caused by magic it's not ableist to cure it with magic". You are the ableist this post is about. Shut the absolute fuck up, stop treating being disabled as the worst possible outcome, and just admit you're a fucking ableist. If you don't want your characters to become disabled, then don't fucking make them disabled.

[ID: The Garfield "you are not immune to propaganda" meme, now edited to read:

"If your first thought upon reading this post is, 'Oh, but it's okay to magically cure disabilities caused by magic!' Congrats…you are the exact sort of ableist jackass this post is about."

End ID.]

Edit number fucking 3:

Autistic people exist! People who are born with disabilities exist! You cannot create a setting where disabled people do not exist because we're all "cured" or "fixed" and not inherently say that you are killing disabled people as soon as they're born, or fucking aborting us as soon as you figure out we'd be born disabled! That's fucking eugenics!

There is no way to "cure" autism without eugenics! There is no way to "cure" people with body differences without eugenics! There is no way to make disabled people nonexistant in your setting without eugenics! Thinking you can and should "cure" and "fix" all disabilities IS EUGENICS!

Also:

[ID: A character shouting at the camera, now edited to read: "Shut up about Dungeons and Dragons! Shut up about Dungeons and Dragons! If the rules of Dungeons and Dragons are ableist, then fucking change them! It is your fucking personal responsability to be a better person than your bigoted society wants you to be!". End ID.]

[ID: White text on a dark brown background with white and black borders around the edges, that reads:

"I don't fucking know or care about Dungeons and Dragons.

This post is not about Dungeons and Dragons.

Do not fucking throw the rulebook of Dungeons and Dragons at me like it's some sort of 'Gotcha!'.

You will literally just be blocked like the rest of the ableist assholes who've already tried it.

If you play dungeons and dragons, it's your responsability to make your games not be ableist, even if it means breaking the rules.".

End ID.]

I do not fucking care what the ableist rules are in Dungeons of Dragons. Do not fucking throw ableist rules for a game I have never and will never play at me on a post I made so that people could learn how to make their settings less ableist. If the rules in Dungeons and Dragons are ableist, then fucking change them. If you don't want to change them, then stop fucking playing an ableist game.

Disabled people deserve to see ourselves represented in fiction just like everyone else, without any fucking requirements that we be "cured" or "fixed" before the story ends.

How the fuck would you feel if a trans and gay character's whole story revolved around going on a quest to become straight and cis, did so, and only then was allowed to live happily ever after?

Why do you fucking think suggesting people write stories about disabled people going on a quest to be cured because it's the only way they'll ever be happy is any less fucking offensive?

Also:

This post is NOT a place for you to talk about how disabled people in fiction should have the option of curing their disabilities. It's just not. That's the fucking default for this society. That is not a revolutionary concept. It's not novel. We fucking know this society wants us gone. A post about how disabled people deserve representation is not the place to talk about how "Well, actually, in fiction disabled people should be cured!" Like that's not the fucking universal default???????????

Edit #4:

Everyone needs to stop tagging this singing praise for Fullmetal Alchemist. A story that uses disability as a punishment and the characters are on a quest to cure their disabilities is not the amazing representation you're all claiming it is just because the character who is only disabled because of DIVINE PUNISHMENT uses prosthetics.

Read this post, and this one. Fullmetal Alchemist is a hell of a lot more ableist than you people are letting on.

guess what you can now find a PDF version of this post on the web archive.

Edit #5! August 23rd, 2023!

A) Everyone. Disabilities that can only exist in the magical setting are still disabilities.

Trying to cure the younger brother's magical disability of being a soul floating around in a magical suit of armour is, in fact, going on a quest to heal a disability!

It doesn't matter if the older brother doesn't want to get his limbs back when they're going on a quest to heal the younger brother's disability! Especially when they BOTH get magically healed at the end!

Magical disabilities that can only exist in that setting, but not real life, are still disabilities, and it's not okay to magically heal them either! What part of the Garfield meme on this post did you all choose to ignore?!

B) When you leave tags on a post you are reblogging, the original poster can see them! When you leave tags on this post, I can see them!

If you think this post is ""too aggressive"" then simply do not reblog it! Don't fucking tone police me on a post I've had to edit five times now due to the constant ableism people have been commenting since I made it!

I have been called the R slur by multiple people in response to this post! People have literally reblogged this post to defend eugenics abortions! You can't see these comments or replies anymore because I blocked the poster!

If you think minorities are being too aggressive by responding appropriately to bigotry, you're a bigot! And you should either not reblog the post at all, or at the very least, shut the fuck up and not tone police us!

Do not fucking put tags on this post complaining I'm being too aggressive! That's called tone policing and you're a bigot if you do it! Don't fucking do it on anyone else's posts either! They can see your tags too!

C) When I fucking say Harry Potter fans are banned from this post, yes, this means YOU!

Either stop supporting a billionaire who's literally using the profits from her bigoted shittily written books to fund REAL FUCKING GENOCIDE, or fuck off!

By continuing to support the Harry Potter series, you are literally giving JK Rowling free fucking advertising! You are encouraging more people to read the series and watch the movies, spending more money and giving her more fucking money with which to LITERALLY SHAPE A COUNTRY'S LAWS TO COMMIT GENOCIDE. She is literally fucking fighting to make being trans illegal! She is literally fucking fighting to have even more of autistic people's rights taken away!

You cannot fucking be a fan of the Harry Potter series in 2023 and call yourself an ally to all the minorities harmed by JK Rowling and the bigotry baked into her shitty series!

Read another book! The Web Archive has tons you can read for free! Literally every single book on gutenberg.org/ is free! Including audiobooks for some of them!

If you write Harry Potter fanfiction, simply fucking get rid of the names and identifiable features and start writing original fiction instead! It's literally free!

Not supporting a literal fucking genocidal billionaire costs LITERALLY NOTHING! And if you refuse to fucking stop supporting JK Rowling, which is what you are doing when you support the Harry Potter series and squeal over her OCs, you are not an ally to any fucking minority! No! Not even if you're trans yourself!

= = =

Edit again Nobember 28th 2023 because this comment is just. such a perfect example for all of you that think this doesn't happen.

butter-whore2 said, two hours before this edit:

kind of a fan of tumblr's slightly more algorithmically elements for reminding me of the hell's other people construct for themselves but this one hits like five of the boxes. How do people do this to themselves? it's such a bizarre way to act over media I genuinely do not believe is capable of stirring an emotional response the metaphysics of disability here are unintentionally really funny but disability is not a coherent ontological framework, it's a vague descriptor for literally thousands of different things none of which lend themselves to categorizing Moralizing over fiction is incredibly lame.

Liking harry potter is also incredibly lame, it's not morally wrong nor transphobic and you do not get to decide that lol. people literally do get "cured" of their disabilities all the time, many of them have a positive experience in doing so. this is not what eugenics is.

the anti abortion stuff lol

Literally how do you live like this? you guys don't even read real books I don't get it.

Archived version of the comment for posterity.

So yeah, lofl, block this fucker.

[takemebacktowheniwassane]

i've been seeing a lot of falsettos posts recently deconstructing the fandoms beliefs and firstly

holy fuck thank you, i try to steer clear of fandom (and fandom-izing thereof) drama but this is getting a lot more visible recently so here's some little tidbits for you

whizzer brown is not an unflawed character!

okay so i haven't seen enough dissecting this but!!! in the chess game!

the whole point of marvin using that game to determine the ending of their relationship is because he suspects whizzer is constantly deceiving him and wants to prove it.

whizzer LITERALLY proves him right!

he asks marvin to help him along (yes i know he says he doesn't want help, hear me out, it's a little more complex than that) and takes advantage of the fact that marvin is- like- infatuated with him.

he draws him into a sense of false security then starts throwing accusations at him ("since you need a man!" "what?" "who's 'brainy'," "or witty, move.") until hes able to win, which he does with ease because he's been using marvin having this idea that he isn't smart against him.

of course, marvin's side of this isn't the best either but honestly, for once the fandom should focus on a different character when they think 'insane asshole'. typically we should also probably change our perspectives a little to be more unbiased cuz fr guys, this is getting really.. annoying.

i understand he's the most visibly flawed but that doesn't excuse constantly picking the worst parts of this musical (without other context, btw) to use against him.

and this post certainly isn't here to excuse anyone either i've just got a lot of opinions that i wanted to share while falsettos is.. trending? right?

2. marvin's (headcanoned but still somewhat researched) autism

this one isn't brought up as much but when i do see it around, it's kind of a skewed viewpoint.

while rewatching bits of the proshot i realized a lot of different neurodivergent traits that he shows-

he's helpless during I Never Wanted to Love You and is childish and regressive when he's upset (not every autistic person is like this either, i know this is a bit of a touchy subject so i just wanted to add that).

usually when people depict it i see it either toned down or joked about which is fine when all in good fun, and when its done respectfully.

not here to attack anyone, just here to point it out and say that yes :) he most likely is neurodivergent, but despite that his actions aren't condoned. he's still kinda a dick who needs to get his shit together

3. ..the lesbians also have shit going on?

just putting this out there- I DON'T SEE ENOUGH FOR THE LESBIANS! OR TRINA!

the girls in this musical are like thoroughly neglected and i think that's kind of shitty just assuming the fact that william finn put them in to demonstrate how gender roles put people in degrading positions (and he even makes it more prevalent by showing marvin as something like a misogynistic character who forces whizzer into more feminine roles to show the audience what woman have to/had to go through in society).

anyways, the lesbians aren't just there guys. they have a plotline too. in Something Bad is Happening, you derive a lot from charlotte singing about the outbreak of HIV/AIDS and realize how she operates on a daily basis (she's passionate about her work and takes every bad day as a hit to her life and career, explaining in a way that as a black, jewish, lesbian, FEMALE doctor in this time, everything that goes wrong is immediately brought down on her so much more than it would as any straight white male pharmacist-).

cordelia on the other hand has to handle the fact that her girlfriend is so adamant about her work ethic that she can't actually be super present in their relationship at times like that.

but either way she still sticks by her and is constantly trying to be supportive and endearing despite feeling like she's not amounting to her gf who's basically a hero in her eyes.

i kinda just wanted to bring that up because they mean a lot to me and they don't get enough love from the fanbase, thank you for listening to my TED talk <3

[moki-dokie]

genuinely hate that most of western society can't take "no" without an explanation tacked on as an answer without it being offending in one way or another like 99% of the time.

actually i just kind of hate how unnecessarily convoluted conversations have to be in general.

one of the greatest ways of explaining how I WISH people spoke is an episode of the west wing, s2e20 babish, a lawyer, is interrogating cj, the press secretary, about the this scandal with the president. after a few questions, he randomly asks, "Do you know what time it is?" "It's five past noon," She answers. Then he says, "I'd like you to get out of the habit of doing that." Understandably confused, she asks, "Doing what?" "Answering more than was asked."

and that's what we do. what we're EXPECTED to do. it comes off rude and curt to give the exact information and that's so fucking annoying and i hate it.

babish followed that up by immediately repeating his question, "do you know what time it is?" and cj, visibly annoyed but understanding his point, reluctantly answers with a straightforward "yes."

like. why is that so hard??

why to i have to play mental 4d chess trying to figure out what the fuck people mean half the time, or why do i have to give up more information than i want to just to say no while maintaining the rules of politeness? its buuulllllssshhhiiiitttttt

i mean i know this is the autistic gay website but come on. it's like pulling teeth getting people to be direct. why is it like this?????

anyway i'm annoyed bc i had to do this shit at work today. and OFTEN have to in the professional world bc god forbid something come off the wrong way.

asked if i was going to partake in a pumpkin carving contest work is hosting and i wanted to just say no. period. end of sentence. because they are not owed the reasons why. i shouldn't have to divulge anything at all. but i know a straight up "no" would be seen as somewhat hostile without context. my hands are not steady enough for it, i don't have the space for it, i don't have the extra time for it, i don't have the spoons for it, and i really don't want to buy a pumpkin just to waste because a) carving pumpkins make shit cooking pumpkins and b) even if i got a cooking pumpkin every other point stands to use it for cooking. but I don't want to say all of that either. so i have to try and figure out which point is going to lead to fewer rebuttals since it doesn't seem to matter where you work, they always WANT you to participate in this kind of shit. so i went with just saying my hand tremors make it too difficult, so no thanks. and of course i get a paragraph about how its friendly to every level of ability, how someone with rheumatoid arthritis just used some stencils and spraypaint to do it one time and blahblahblah like - for one thing i'm not going out of my way to buy supplies with my own money for one specific thing that i'll never use them again for and two WHY CANT YOU JUST TAKE MY NO AND MOVE ON JESUS CHRIST.

i should've just made up some crazy lie like one of the cats is allergic to pumpkin lmao

anyway. i hate conversational habits like this in our society its the literal worst

[ineffectualdemon]

The levels you get judged as autistic are weird

Because they are based on how well you communicate with neurotypicals (as I understand it, please correct me if I'm wrong) and don't actually cover the autistic persons level of need

Like I got level 1 because I am fairly articulate on a good day and as my husband puts it "you can seem human for roughly the first 15 minutes" (note he is allowed to say this, i find this humor funny and he's also on the spectrum)

I am educated, fairly well spoken, and can fake social niceties if I don't talk or if it's over text. This does not make me better able to take care of myself nor does it make me better than any autistic person who cant do that. I can talk good sometimes. Its just a fact not a judgement on my worth or anyone else's

But it sure is treated that way

I am not able to live independently. I can't handle if I'm asked to change the side of the road from my usual routine much less anything more disruptive. I can't manage my own finances. I have loud meltdowns in public. I visibly stim. Once my timer of being able to human breaks I will invariably say something wildly inappropriate and not understand why it's inappropriate. I can't arrange things for myself because I get flustered and confused. I need support on a daily basis

I cannot take care of myself even if you remove my chronic pain and fatigue.

Sure I could run an errand or go some place by myself before when I was still mobile but there was an over 50% chance of me having a meltdown on the way or once I'm there and needing help

And sure in the past I could go to new places alone ..if my husband took me the day before and walked the route with me and helped me write down very specific instructions and directions and be on the other end of the phone when i break down

Sure was once able to go to new places and events and then immediately get overwhelmed and lose my words and have a meltdown or dissociate in order to cope

And the after affects would mean I'm stressed out and physically ill for days after

Like I'm not saying I need anything like the support of high support needs autistic people

I am able to communicate my thoughts accurately through text most of the time

(not so much out loud. There I vary wildly between considered articulate and screaming with anger because I can't get the words! I know they are there but I can't access them and it makes me angry and no one else understands what's going on or why I'm suddenly angry)

I am aware that is a massive privilege and skill in my possession that allows me to advocate myself in way that is impossible for non verbal members of the communicate

You can advocate for yourself

But not same as me

And that's in my favour and I am sorry

So I try to advocate for you when I can

To have your back

Being non verbal, having intellectual disabilities, any number of factors could mean someone needs more support than me

And I am not saying we are exactly the same

But the fact that I am highly dependent on my husband to survive is just written off as not important because "I speak well"

And that's just a really weird way to weigh it in my opinion

Like yeah I don't seem to them like I should need to be dependent on others to survive but I fucking well am

Idk

The system just seems fucked to me

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

im such a big fan of the linda public school vs homeschool debate i think its a really interesting conflict, because obviously roman was homeschooled and it wasnt really beneficial towards him (which virgil could probably sympathise with regarding all of his mortal friends being terrified of him briefly), BUT also trying to tell logan or even patton that public school is the best option for their fae child is so obviously gonna be a problem, and then even when roman saw how logan was treated he didnt see how young it started and how much it was ingrained in him that he was wrong, and virgil didnt really see any of the worst of it so trying to commicate why its such a concerning idea is going to require bringing up some unpleasant things. but ALSO linda is not logan ((is it fair projecting his experiences onto linda or by trying to protect her are they gonna cause a complex anyway where she internalises being fae is wrong?)) or roman or patton or virgil and either choice could be uniquely beneficial or damaging just based on how she responds to her environment, which is impossible to actually determine without some trial and error, and id bet good money they dont want to risk the "error" part at all

just a very cool and interesting debate i feel, i enjoy how everyone has so many reasons to be so emotionally invested

thank you so much, you get exactly the vibe i was going for. the dichotomy of roman and virgil who were so so lonely as children due to isolation, versus logan and patton who were so hurt because of bullying, putting them in two very different camps as to what's best for their kid, makes it SUCH a hard conversation to have. they pretty much start having it the moment she's born and it continues for the next two years, and its the closest to genuinely angry they ever really get with each other. because theyre all really stubborn, but they rarely disagree on something this important so vehemently.

compounded by the fact that they dont yet know if she's going to age more like a fae or a human, and that being a visibly-6yo in middle school would theoretically make that issue exponentially worse

tentatively, im thinking that she will be homeschooled until she goes to college, and also that thats kind of one of the reasons why she doesnt do as well as she hoped. she had structure (in a house full of autistic people, you bet she had structure) but also a lot of freedom over dictating that structure, and the freedom to deviate from it when she needed to (in house full of ADHD people, you bet she was allowed to go run around in the yard whenever she needed a break).

so in college the combination of 1. less structure in the sense that she has less support network and people to hold her accountable and 2. less freedom in the sense that you can leave whenever you want in college, but the class doesnt stop and wait for you to come back, means she doesnt have the skills to make it really work for herself, especially compounded with the fact that she's emotionally much less mature than her peers

and that fucking sucks, for her and for LAMP. because you can debate for years, and you can do your best, and you can do everything right, and your kid might still wind up with baggage because of something you did. something you did and believed in your heart of hearts was the best thing for them.

the world is big and full of sharp things and you cant actually wrap your kid in bubble wrap. the bubble wrap is also full of sharp things, in this metaphor that immediately ran away from me.

all you can do is just keep stocked in bandaids, and hold their hand while you put it on.

[transloumand]

lestat did not deserve an unbridled autistic bitch no wonder he fumbled he's just too normal. that's why lestat and louis work bc louis' ass is too...i almost want to say preppy...for armand. armand would be like "Louis. today i bought a bajillion used dvds from various auction web sites. i'm looking forward to receiving them." said with this face 😐 and visibly fucking shaking with excitement. and louis would just kinda give him a weird look and give him a kiss on the cheek and be like ok love whatever you say. he just wouldn't get it. daniel..i don't think he gets it 100% but i think he definitely goes along with it and cares enough about armand to care about his random interests and the intensity of them. its so strange thinking about why louis and armand don't work but louis and lestat do because armand is kinda just like the Weird Freak version of lestat in a way. definitely less outwardly flamboyant but no less faggot.

[okerum]

throughout the short duration of my maze runner hyperfix i would write down random thoughts/headcanons i had about them so i'll just copy-paste all of them here

- newt is crazy ticklish but he gets so irritated when someone tickles him. minho does not care

- newt cant sleep in the same room as thomas because thomas snores crazy loud and newt is a v light sleeper

- thomas has a really bad habit of chewing on his fingernails

- once newt got over them kidnapping thomas, he got along really well with group b. and they loved him too (ik him and sonya r siblings but him and harriet would be such good friends. see the vision)

- newt loves reading. i think classics would be his faves

- also good omens

- also he likes mythology

- he probably needs glasses though

- thomas and minho would probably play roblox together and like. bully kids. sometimes brenda will tag along too (shes the meanest but she also thinks roblox is dumb so she goes on it less)

- minho is a total sweat when it comes to gaming

- old grandma newt

- minho and newt would be roomates

- ocd newt maybe

- thomas has SEVERE depersonalization problems

- i can picture newt dancing as a sort of outlet. not sure what kind but just in general

- minho has AT LEAST one skirt

- newt braids his hair ‼️‼️

- thomas and newt and teresa and sonya are all autistic

- also all trans

- plus brenda

- who is also a butch lesbian

- newt is lefthanded

- thomas is the kid with the peanut allergy

- NEWT NONBINARY! THEY/HE!!!!

- do i eveb have to say t4t newtmas...

- teresa is a big swiftie

- newt would like shoujo animes

- minho would like shounen animes

- none of the main 3 can dress themselves and they look like shit usually

- newt doesnt get flustered like at all but THOMAS .... he goes red at any compliment from his crushes

- minho and thomas wrestling lmfaooo

- theyve probably broken several fhings in the process. including walls

- minho badly mocks newt's accent and he HATES it

- newt probably lets minho get away with a lot of things that he doesnt let anyone else get away with though because hes just used to it atp

- thomas is jealous because newt gives him a good scolding (affectionate) whenever he pisses him off. if hes particularly upset, newt will just ignore him for a few hours which is so hard for thomas

- newt has a lot of self-soothing behaviors but he rocks (like, rocking back and forth) a lot

- hes mega autistic look hes either minimum eye contact or intense uninterrupted eye contact and he hates being touched unless hes warned

- also the whole routines/order/rules thing he has going on especially in the glade

- AUTISTIC

- newt's prolly one of those film nerds

- never watched it but he'd be the type to love brokeback mountain

- thomas is a chronic flannel wearer

- oh also forgot its not a given but newt has chronic pain and a mobility aid

- puerto rican thomas...

- hes also demiromantic and demisexual

- thomas is also ticklish

- tickle fights perhaps....

- thomas fell asleep first once at a sleepover and minho drew all over him/fucked with him in his sleep and he never fell asleep before minho ever again

- the gladers probably smelled like shit

- 40 some adolescent-teen boys all alone no supervision doing physical labor all day every day.... 💀

- the older boys do it more but the younger ones need reminding

- runners probably bathe more often too

- esp in the movies when the box only comes up monthly + no visible building for showers??

- teresa came up and GAGGED

- spiderman newt + batman thomas

- newt probavly is prone to sunburns and he was SUFFERINGGG in the scorch. sonya too but she had it a lot easier w group b's circumstances

- half filipino teresa

- also hispanic brenda is that obvious or not

- newt is unexpectedly demanding in relationships he wants kisses all the time

- newt is a bland ass texter

- thomas just doesnt text. he'll facetime you any time u text him bc he doesnt wanna text

- sonya knows basically NO celebrities you'll go "you know chris pratt??" and she'll be like "who tf 💀" (the ones she does know are just the women she has a crush on)

- gally has probably called newt the f slur before but only because he didnt know the extent of how bad it was and (after a good punch and superduper miffed) newt tells him yhe history of it and he never did it again. he felt rlly bad too

- teresa 100% has a full fursona set up in her head

- she also probably silently assigns everyone else fursonas

- newt is a reptile owner

- minho likes dogs but hes also a terrible pet owner so he just goes over to thomas' place to play with his dog

- sonya watches video essays. shes one of those people that'll turn one on every time she sits and eats

- harriet and newt r besties btw

- sometimes newt gets a little nosy about what sonya wont tell him

- thomas has a rbf and intimidates everyone at first (though its usually not long before he makes a fool of himself and everyone realizes hes just a Guy)

- sonya is like newt's reality checker

- ouuugghhh flower shop/tattoo parlor sonya/harriet

- minho tiktok user x newt youtube shorts user x thomas instagram reels user

- gally has NO social media

- newt has a lowkey freakishly good memory

- sonya has a small collection of stuffed animals. she probably liked squishmallows when they were a thing, she collected them a little

- she has pet mice and she pampers them

- newt and sonya have hamster trauma

- the ENTIRE gang went to see barbie together and they all dressed up

- gally probably showed up not dressed up but sonya and newt planned it so they brought him an outfit and peer pressured him into changing into it at the theater

- it was probably a barbie fit (as punishment) while the rest of the guys were kens

- have i said newt and minho would be roomies or no

- minho and frypan have TOTAL brainrot humor and they bounce off each other (sometimes thomas participates. newt watches silently but judgementally)

- newt with eds on top of his chronic pain from his knee im sorry bro

- very musically inclined thomas versus musically incompetent newt

- minho calls newt hot nonchalantly / newt attempted b4 /ref

- feel like its also a given but newt and alby had a fling

- thomas infodumps on social media and minho just talks about himself

- newt is probably entirely caught up in some niche drama situation someone's posting about

- minho's tiktok fyp is convinced hes a gay man

- newt's is probably convinced hes a lesbian

- thomas just has like weird obscure humor that nobody (including him) understands

- sonya is chappel roan's #1 fan

- truth or dare with minho goes CRAZY

- harriet has a pet tarantula.... freaky little lesbian.....

- newt smoking to get relief from his chronic pain and anxiety and depression and trauma and

- minho probably discovered a long time ago that while newt will NEVER ask for it, he sleeps better with physical contact. so he holds his hand silently and without acknowledging it

- passenger princess thomas lmfaoaoooofofotitu

- ivy trio plays horror games like phasmophobia and lethal company. thomas always dies first and newt is the only one actually playing the game

- rip newt you wouldve loved being inside while it rains and reading a good book

- he'd also be really good at romanticizing the midwest

-END-

okay thats all. a few edits were made so its coherent/fits my current views of the characters more but its 98% raw from my notes app. just a peek into my twisted mind 😈😈😈

[babygorewhore]

I’d never leave you

Tate Langdon x fem reader

Hurt comfort. WC. Just over 1k

Hi! So this is a Tate version of hurt comfort with a reader having both autism and BPD. My moots encouraged me to write this because of the inclusivity I bring with these disorders. It’s short. And I tried to keep Tate in character. But I hope you enjoy! This will be my latest AHS fic because I have a few other fandoms so it’ll be a while before my next!

Warnings! Autistic episode and BPD episode depicted. Anger! Destroying room. Hair pulling. Tate slightly misunderstands reader. Not proofread

Tate was frantic as he searched the murder house for you. He hadn’t talked to you in a few days. Close to a whole week. He tried so hard to respect that you asked him for space. He really did. But he heard whispers from the other ghosts that you were in a dark place.

You weren’t dead like him and he wanted to keep it that way. He would never harm you on purpose or let anyone hurt you. He had sulked around the shadows, remembering how it felt to hold you. Your arms were his favorite place to me.

Tate heard a loud bang. Then a crash. In your bedroom. His old room. Bursting through the door, Tate’s brown eyes widened as he took in the state of the space.

You were crouched down, your notebooks, jewelry and clothes thrown around you. The dresser was on the floor and drawers were pulled out and haphazardly scattered around you.

You had spoken about these episodes before. Tate understood you were autistic along with a personality disorder. You kept it away from him, insisting he couldn’t handle your mommy and daddy issues that caused some of it. He had begged for you to open up but that seemed to only make you pull away more.

Your face was deeply flushed, your hair ripped out of its previously style and Tate cringed when he saw a few chunks in your clenched fist that was against your head.

Tate rushed over to you, reaching out but you jerked back and started gaining your balance as you stood. “What are you doing in here? I told you to leave me alone!” He immediately felt hurt but he pushed it aside and scanned you. Your eyes were glazed over. He couldn’t tell if it was from crying or lack of sleep.

“I heard something and I couldn’t just not see what happened-“

“Oh god, Tate. Come on. I can’t even-this is-fuck everything is too- I can feel the texture of that shirt! I can’t stand it!” You shakily pointed at a fleece t shirt on the floor. “And my phone won’t stop buzzing.”

Tate nodded, trying to understand through your volume. “I can put it away-“

“No! I don’t want any of it. I want it away from me! I’m so sick of this. And I can’t find my headphones.” Your voice cracked.

Tate knew those were a safety net, at first he thought you wanted to ignore everyone but it was just protective measure. “I’ll find them-“

“I don’t want help!” This time you yelled louder. “I just want a different mind. I hate myself. I don’t want to be me, Tate. Every day, something else adds up. And I can’t handle it anymore.” As you continued speaking, your voice became lower.

Tate took a step closer. He just wanted to hug you and make this all better. He wanted to touch your too big sweatshirt and kiss your sweet face that he loved so much. “Baby, pushing me away isn’t right. Why don’t you want me to help you?”

He half expected you to scream but instead you sank onto the wooden floor. Opening your palms where torn out hair slowly slipped off your flesh.

“I don’t like how this feels.” You shuddered, trying to fling the rest off.

He took the opportunity to quickly settle in front of you, his knees touching yours as he experimented if you’d pull away. You didn’t. Tate carefully took your hand and took the end of his shirt and started wiping away any remaining strands. He hated that you did that but he refrained from saying that right now. He didn’t want you to tell him to leave again.

“What-What happened? Why are you so upset?”

You were visibly shaking now, teeth chattering slightly. “I don’t have a good reason. My friend said something-and it was just off. I felt like she really didn’t like me. Maybe she was talking about me to other people. And then-I couldn’t find my headphones. Everything went shit.”

The last thing he wanted to do was move away from you but Tate forced himself to lean down and inspect underneath the bed. There they were. He crawled forward, shifting past you and pulling them out. “Found them, baby.” Your shoulders slumped heavily as you took them. Tears prickled in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Tate. I’m so sorry for yelling at you. I know you just wanna help-I didnt wanna hurt you-“ He shook his head fiercely and gently leaned forward.

He gauged your reaction but you met his presence as he rested his forehead against yours. “It’s okay. I’m always gonna be here. And I want to help you. Even if you’re angry or-hurting. I’d never leave you. I love you…” he trailed off.

“Maybe you shouldn’t. Because I don’t want this to happen again but it will. And I don’t want you to be stuck with another problem.” Tate then cupped your cheek, his own eyes growing glassy as you held eye contact a little longer.

“No. You’re not a problem. You are everything. You hear that? I don’t care if I have to hold you while you cry or scream. If I have to listen to music from playing outside of your headphones all day, then I will. I would do anything for you, baby. And you want to know why?”

You shrugged a little.

“Because I love you, baby. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And-I don’t want you to push me away anymore. You can tell me anything.”

He didn’t want you to argue as you opened your mouth.

“I love you too.” You whispered and his chest expanded with warmth as you brought him into a hug. He nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing a few gentle kisses against your skin.

Begrudgingly moving away, Tate scanned the bedroom. “Hey. I’m gonna make this livable again. Why don’t you put these on and try to relax a little? Can you do that for me?”

You nodded and he could tell you were growing tired from the intensity of your emotions. He helped you stand and guided you to the bed. Tate stroked your cheek with his knuckle as you settled against the pillow.

He would try his best to understand more and relate to you. But for you? He would do anything.

Tagging

@scene-and-dandylover @xxhellfirebunnyxx @reidsbtch @imyourdaninow @icannot3 @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @elaine-in-the-membrane @enchanting-evan

If I forgot anyone forgive because I’m baby.

[astranite]

Limp

John and Virgil!!! The whole range of hurt/comfort, angsting and fluff though leaning rather towards comforty. Scott also sneaks in for a good bit at the end. And there are hugs. Also there is autistic John and Virgil which it isnt about but its very there :)

This started off from the first line from a tumblr prompt from @aliceinwhumperland and the idea from @katblu42 to have John being the one limping then it grew from there!!! Minor warning for injury and medical stuff. Also that this reached 6k words!!

---

"You think you're hiding it, but I can see that limp from space."

Virgil leaned closer to his comm, giving John a prime view of dark, angular done-with-this-shit eyebrows.

John definitely didn’t panic. He just didn’t want the totally needless scrutiny of a medic brother all up in his business. Or asking questions like, ‘What did you do to yourself this time?’

“What limp?” he replied. He could play it off as obtuse and then no one had to ever to find out. 

Virgil gave a Scott-worthy facepalm. “Do I have to worry about a concussion too?”

Okay maybe that was too obtuse. But he was running on few hours of sleep, back to back rescues and no bloody breakfast so who could blame him. 

“I’m fine, Virgil.” John rolled his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Well then, John could prove it. Ignoring the ache in his left foot and that the last time he tried this was probably what had gotten Virgil’s suspicions on him in the first place, he twisted through the central hub of Five to the entry to the gravity ring. 

Lowering himself carefully in what was usually a thoughtlessly graceful manoeuvre, he landed on his feet in the grav ring, a triumphant, “See, I’m perfectly fine,” already on his lips. Except as soon as his left foot touched the ground with his weight on it, a sharp stab shot through it.

He couldn’t hold back the painfully obvious wince. Or the sudden gasp. 

Virgil’s disappointment was another blow. “And here I thought I had one sensible brother. How did it happen?”

Mechanism of injury, a completely ordinary question for a medic to ask. One he’d compliantly answered for many accidents, even ridiculous earthside ones such as, ‘Fell over again and it’s all gravity’s fault.’ But up here he was meant to be in his element. 

John crossed his arms stubbornly, wobbling on one foot. 

“Couldn’t say.”

“Johnny.” Virgil was exasperated by now. 

“Definitely not telling you anything if you call me that.”

“Johnathan Glenn Tracy.”

“Nope. That’s not even my name.”

“John.”

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” John spat. 

Virgil looked taken aback. 

A lump rose in John’s throat. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a shit day.” 

He could feel his face growing as red as his hair with shame. It would definitely be visible over holograms. To make it worse, Virgil was probably as exhausted as he was. The last rescue had been nasty, earthquakes so often were, and Thunderbird Two had been on several more before that. He didn’t deserve to have to deal with John’s sarcastic, bitchy attitude as well. 

John admitted defeat and hopped over to the wall to hold onto a grab bar to keep his balance and take the weight off his foot. And resisted the urge to bang his head against it because that sort of thing had gotten him into this mess in the first place. 

His foot was throbbing, Virgil’s expression was soft because he’d already forgiven him and John was just over it all. 

“Please promise you won’t laugh.” He couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else, no matter how unlikely it was that Virgil would. 

“Alright, I promise. I’m not going to judge you, John.”

“I kicked a wall,” John mumbled, “On purpose, because I got mad that the bagel dispenser wasn’t working and a call came in so there was no time to fix it and I couldn’t sleep last night and I’m stressed about literally everything and just wanted a fucking bagel but clearly that was too much to ask of the universe!”

John shut his mouth with a clack. The words had come out in a torrent rising in volume that he couldn’t hold back. Over such a stupid thing too. 

When John could finally  bring himself to glance up from the stars beneath the floor outside, Virgil’s gaze held nothing but empathy. 

“You’re right, it has been a pretty shit day.”

John nodded quietly. 

Virgil continued, “Just— John, you know you don’t have to hide stuff like that from us, from me, right?  We’ve all done stupid things in anger before and probably will do so again. That big, blue splodge of paint on my studio wall? Yeah, I chucked a paintbrush at it because a painting wasn’t working out and I was frustrated and it was three am after a string of bad rescues and I lost it a bit.”

Huh. John hadn’t known that. Virgil was usually least likely to blow up as far as it went. 

“Point is, you’re not alone in this. Tracy temper, remember? We’ve all got it and we are all working out how to work with it. But it isn’t an excuse to conceal an injury that might need treatment even if it seems like it, ‘Should be fine,’ or ‘Isn’t that bad,’ or you think it’s caused by something stupid and you’re worried about us judging you. Because we won’t.”

John took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth. 

He wasn’t even getting lectured at for being an idiot, or having it brushed off as nothing because, ‘Red heads and their tempers, y’know,’ or plain old being yelled at because, ‘John, you’re meant to be better than this.’

Virgil cared about him. That was simple fact. 

So John cooperatively answered Virgil’s questions about pain, the range of motion he had and when exactly had the injury occurred this morning. That he couldn’t bear weight on it was pretty telling something was wrong. And it really did hurt. 

“You’re going to need to come down here so I can get x-rays of that foot,” Virgil said apologetically. 

John bit back the wave of disappointment, along with the accompanying urge to snap and snarl. 

“I know.”

He really didn’t want to go back to earth and deal with everyone’s concern and fussing when he just wanted to ignore them and go to bed. Up here on Five no one was close enough to be affected by his moods unless they put in a comm call which he could, as above, ignore. 

But John dutifully transferred control over to Eos and the island, packed his bag because he’d probably be there for a while but he wasn’t going to think about that and loaded himself into the space elevator. He knew how dangerous untreated injuries were in space better than anyone. 

The descent was slower than usual, as was protocol for an injury where speed was not of the essence and a less turbulent descent outweighed the need for timeliness. It gave John plenty of opportunity to stare at the rounded edge of the space elevator’s inner ceiling. Frustration over near guaranteed being grounded bubbled up until he had to screw his eyes shut and force himself to focus on the way the g-forces felt against his body so he didn’t utterly lose it. 

Landing on earth came with a jolt that managed to catch John by surprise. He flinched, then checked the systems read outs and undid his restraints. Remaining lying on the launch couch was one third to demonstrate he could be sensible and wait instead of trying to walk off a potentially serious injury, another third because he didn’t want to tangle with gravity on his own, and also so that he could childishly pretend he was still up on Five and far away for a little longer. 

Virgil knocked on the space elevator doors and a second later they slid open. John gave him a weak smile. 

The journey through the hangars to the infirmary was made with Virgil’s supportive arm around his waist and John’s arm draped across his brother’s broad shoulders as John stubbornly limped along. He did take a moment as his feet first touched the concrete floor and gravity really took hold to lean into Virgil’s half hug and just breathe. 

The infirmary was the same as it always was, with its sterile smell overloaded with the sharpness of antiseptic that made it different from the atmosphere on Five, and thankfully quiet. 

John manoeuvred himself up onto the closest bed, sinking into the stiff foam mattress as much as was physically possible. Stars, he was tired. 

Virgil was exceedingly gentle as he eased John’s foot out of his space boot. He stripped the sock off too, propping the foot up to rest in his lap to examine it. John grimaced as Virgil necessarily poked and prodded at where it was sorest.  Though the bruises and swelling were not particularly hard to spot from where contact had been made with the solid bulkhead. 

John anxiously chewed his lips waiting for Virgil to get the portable x-ray, zap him and be done with it. 

Moving his sore foot around at all the required angles for the shots was… a process. 

He did his best to be patient as Virgil took the x-rays off to Grandma for a second opinion on how they would most effectively treat him, but ended up curled in a ball on the slightly plasticky hospital sheets, stubbornly facing the wall with his foot carefully positioned in a way that it least hurt.

He wasn’t asleep, it was not late enough for that and he was far too wired but he was knocked out of his reverie nonetheless by Grandma stroking his hair. 

“Definitely broken, kiddo. No getting around that.”

Even John could see it when they showed him the x-rays. He could only be grateful the fracture was neatly aligned and wouldn’t need surgery, he’d seen plenty of worse breaks in the field. It still meant weeks of being grounded, away from Five and unable to go home to his stars. 

Virgil applied the cast under Grandma’s supervision. John shuddered at the sensations even as he tried to keep still. He was proud of how far Virgil had come in his medical education and he made sure his brother knew that. 

The usual checks after coming down from space wore on his nerves. He took the painkillers for his stupid broken foot, the anti-nausea meds as his stomach wasn’t settling from the change from microgravity and the tall lidded cup of the least disgusting flavour of electrolyte drink as directed. 

He fidgeted with his baldric, tracing over the lines of his suit; everything was a lot today. For all of them; John didn’t miss the dark circles beneath Virgil’s eyes or the way he slumped as he sat on the bed next to John once Grandma had left and the cast was setting. 

Virgil had briefly crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself, hands rubbing the flannel of his sleeves. Then he uncrossed them, hunching his shoulders to appear smaller, less intimidating, fingertips still going over the soft, worn fuzzy material of the cuffs of his flannel.

John placed his hand, palm up on Virgil’s leg. Virgil took it and John squeezed his fingers once as they sat in silence for a while. 

Changing out of his space suit for the loose pyjama shorts and t-shirt Virgil brought was difficult and awkward with his foot. And how clumsy he was here in general. 

Trying to walk on crutches was, to put it in far politer words than John vehemently used, a disaster. 

One second he was standing with the crutches around his arms, adjusted to the correct height, his casted foot off the ground, everything done properly, about to take a step. The next he was a tangled pile of limbs on the ground. 

John’s cheeks were burning red yet again. Stupid, fucking gravity and his miraculous ability to trip over nothing. 

He shoved the useless hunks of metal away from him as the room blurred, swiping at the angry tears as they formed. 

Virgil crouched in from of him, checking him over for injury. Well, further injury. 

There wasn’t any, apart from his rather dented pride. John didn’t count the damp tears trickling down his face as he studiously attempted to ignore them. 

Virgil made a soft noise as John let himself be pulled into a hug. Warm flannel absorbed his tears as John hugged Virgil tighter. Somehow it felt like he hadn’t seen him for months even though it couldn’t’ve been that long, could it? Unless they counted for quality time rather than John being periodically dragged down to earth… He missed his quietest and closest brother in age even if they’d been talking mission only this morning. 

Maybe John tried to hide from the world for a little while, and Virgil let him. They both needed this; Virgil’s face was also buried in John’s hair. 

After a while, sitting sprawled on the hard infirmary floor caught up to them with all the aches of too long days of heavy work. And broken bones. John shifted with a grimace.

Now he had to get back up off the ground when the crutches were clearly not a help, when he was pretty near useless down here, unable to resist the inevitable pull of gravity to the centre of the earth and the unforgiving ground. 

…He was probably being far too dramatic about it. Should just get it together like everyone else seemed able to do. 

But it was still a problem that he didn’t want to deal with because fundamentally, he wished he was back on Five. 

He had been going to tell someone about the injury, of course. Just as soon as he’d thought up a watertight excuse slash explanation. As soon as got himself under control and stopped being so sensitive over everything that he’d snap at anyone who got near him. So he would not end up like this, a too-emotional mess on the floor. 

Virgil once again checked his cast and his broken foot were undamaged by his fall. John wondered whether it was as much for Virgil’s sake of making sure idiot big brothers weren’t going to suddenly keel over as for John’s. John rubbed a hand roughly over his face. It was because Virgil cared. And maybe time had proven he had a right to worry.

John protested as Virgil went to pick him up, on the grounds Virgil had already been doing plenty of heavy lifting on rescues today and he had to be exhausted already, and John really didn’t want him to throw his back out or his knees or whatever other worst case scenarios John could come up with. 

He also knew he’d look utterly ridiculous in Virgil’s hold, all gangly, lanky limbs out of proportion with Virgil’s shorter, stockier build. And John was more likely to accidentally elbow someone in the nose, which had demonstrably happened before and the guilt still chewed at him, than even Scott fighting tooth and nail against being slung over someone’s shoulder when he there was no way he could even physically stand, let alone walk any distance. He warned Virgil away sharply.

“John. I know my limits, and you aren’t any worse than Scott.” Virgil sounded done with it all. “And I’d rather carry you than have to pick up the pieces or reset that cast, which I have also had to do before, because one of my brothers is injured and deserves help but they are too damn stubborn to let me.”

The fight in John left him as a hissing exhale, like a hole in a space ship venting atmosphere. 

Virgil scooped him up off the ground, promising to figure the rest out later as John avoided flailing too much. 

His brother’s arms were secure around his knees and under his shoulders, holding him close so there was no danger of him hitting the ground, of the falling that some part of John secretly feared, even with the rocking movement of Virgil’s strides. John’s cheek stayed mushed against Virgil’s flannel-clad chest. 

The walls of the house passed him in a tired blur. He really didn’t want to be left to sit around in his room where no matter how tired he was he wouldn’t sleep yet. Lying there staring at the ceiling all afternoon with nothing better to occupy him than his turbulent thoughts was frankly not a good idea. 

He said as much to Virgil, probably far too bluntly. The usual multi-stage filter he sorted his words through before he ever said them had met its untimely demise in face of his exhaustion several hours ago. 

It wasn’t like he wanted to hang around amidst the noise and movement and peopleing of the lounge with everyone else either. John being difficult again, as usual, the voice in the back of his head snarked.

Virgil had mercy on John and took the back route through the house instead of past the comms room where everyone would see him, even if it was only his family who he should know wouldn’t judge him. Everyone had been in the position of being carried about when they’d fallen asleep somewhere or were injured or were about to be chucked into the pool, so except in the last situation, John shouldn’t’ve been embarrassed or really cared, except that he did. 

They passed by John’s bedroom. John curled a little closer to Virgil in something that could’ve been called relief. He really wasn’t sure he wanted to be completely alone right now; he trusted Virgil.

A booted foot nudged open the door before Virgil placed John down on one of the big, squishy beanbags in the corner of his studio. 

John melted into it. He didn’t think he had bones anymore. Or any outside of the ones he’d just broken which had plenty of painful evidence of their existence. But no bones. He could even forgive gravity just this once when it was letting him sink into the soft surface. 

He looked up at Virgil’s low chuckle. 

“They’re good, aren’t they? Gordon found them online and I chose the colours.” Virgil smiled fondly. 

They hadn’t been here the last time John had hung out in Virgil’s studio with him. A spike of sorrow stabbed at his chest. 

New beanbags were a tiny change. It shouldn’t even matter. Except they demonstrated precisely how he was missing out on the details of his brothers’ lives while he was away. 

The beanbag covers were greens and yellows, soft, earthen shades exactly what John would expect Virgil to pick. Colourful, but not in your face. Soothing and restful but not dull. 

Observations probably not as important to anyone else as John found them. 

Virgil ducked out and came back with John’s tablet, the one he used earth-side with its bulky, lilac shatter-proof case. 

John took it carefully from Virgil’s hands, not because it was breakable even dropped from quite a height, but because of the consideration Virgil gave him, to bring him it to read on when he couldn’t go get something himself. 

In space, alone, it wasn’t like there anyone to do that kind of thing for him. Even with the gifts snuck into monthly supply crates by his family, he’d sort of forgotten how it felt.

He shoved away the ever so familiar feeling of being torn in two. He loved the stars, loved being up on Five, he really did. In spite of this, missing his family while up there was a constant wound he packed with the duty of constantly being called upon, of constantly needing to be the Voice Who Answers, in hopes of staunching his bleeding emotions. It contrasted with how he never wanted to outstay his welcome on Earth. 

Why was it that no matter where he was, he still wanted to go home?

Why did anger seethe and rise only to leave him all hollow and empty?

John gulped, running his hands over his face. He tucked one into his hair, tugging at the strands in an effort to distract himself. Why the fuck was he like this?

Virgil had turned away to get something off his desk, so at least he didn’t have to see John freaking out over nothing.

John forced a smile when Virgil looked back at him in concern. It wasn't like he could do anything about it. 

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Virgil said.

He was wearing his set of large, over-ear noise-cancelling headphones, covered in green stickers, his chin nodding along to a beat John couldn’t hear. Virgil wasn’t smiling but the creases around his eyebrow scar were shallower. Today had been getting to him too. 

Left alone, John examined the art studio more thoroughly, letting himself become absorbed in the details, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

The whole place was very Virgil, in the best possible way. Storage for art materials was arranged with an engineer’s precision for putting and keeping things in their proper order, cupboards with closed doors painted olive green and neatly labeled in Virgil’s blocky handwriting. Only the pencils Virgil was currently using were left on his desk, in their tray reordered into an exactingly coloured gradient. John couldn’t deny that it also clicked in his brain with that urge to line stuff up. 

An electric keyboard lived along a side wall by a bookshelf containing folders of sheet music and art theory books. John knew from Virgil that the music was arranged by each song’s dominant colour palette according to folder, when he asked as at first he couldn't make sense of the system when of course Virgil would have a system. 

There were speakers in a few places around the room for the frequent times Virgil listened to music while creating. Good quality ones because Virgil said certain staticky types gave him the same sensation as putting gritty sand in his mouth.

It was Virgil’s space for making art and just being, so he’d adapted it to him. Virgil got overwhelmed when there was too much visual stimulation, with constant busy, bright colours and clutter of the world he couldn't put away, so here was an escape from that. 

The walls and ceiling were light, giving an airy feeling. A large landscape window joined inside and outside seamlessly, looked over what John privately thought was the best view on the island, except for the observatory. You could see right out past Mateo, over pokey trees and ocean. Late afternoon sunlight poured in, and there were shades if it got too much.

Greenery was introduced into the room itself by the massive monstera plant in the corner, its umbrella-like leaves forming pleasing shadows on the floor, contrasting with the near liquid golden light. More smaller plants were scattered about. John brushed his fingers over the monstera, to reach out and touch the tangible connection with life and the earth. 

Occasionally a piece of art was hung up for a while as it was finished before being moved to its intended display area in an other part of the house, like the watercolour sketch of playful dolphins amongst their reef obviously intended for Gordon. But mostly there wasn't anything to distract from the artwork, on canvas or as music, that Virgil was bringing to life. 

John found the studio calming too, even when he usually tended towards wanting all his bright stars, books, open screens and telescopes in his space at once. There was something about the soothing surroundings, how the faint smell of paints and real paper lingered, mixing with engine bio-oil and coffee, that meant safety and home. His brother’s mark on it was undeniable. 

John couldn’t help but search for the splatter of paint Virgil had mentioned earlier. It was blue and on a wall in this room, so it shouldn’t be hard to miss but in spite of all of his skills at searching, it was nowhere to be found. Eventually he resigned himself to the fact that Virgil must have painted over it, destroying the tangible proof that he’d acted out in anger.

The beanbags squished beneath him when he flopped back, long legs stretched out and foot smarting when he moved it, picking up his tablet for something to do. His substantial library of books wasn’t holding anything that could keep his attention right now as he flicked between them, opening and shutting pages. He tipped his head back, looking upwards, letting his tablet fall face down onto his chest.

And there it was. On the wall above him, the blue splodge of paint exactly from Virgil’s story. 

Except it wasn't just a splodge because a rainbow of lines had been added around it, faithfully following the original shape and expanding upon it, forming a bird with wings outstretched, flying freely across the wall. Something utterly beautiful from from what had begun as only painful.

John’s breath caught. He didn't know how Virgil did that. He wrung out hope from anger, forming all the emotion into art where John just flailed because he didn’t want to touch his feelings with a thousand kilometre stick.

But here, in Virgil’s studio surrounded by the calm quiet where he could finally breathe, he could try.

So he picked up his tablet. Opened up the word programme. And began to write.

He had no idea where he was going. No plot, no plan, no outline. When he usually did this, for reports, for academic works, he always had his ideas and arguments all laid out in his head and he simply had to put them on the page in front of him.

His fingers found the keyboard and he let them, doing his best not to second-guess and delete every word he put down. To think too much and bail out as it got too big and too scary even when this was just typing on his tablet sitting in a beanbag in the corner of the room, not doing anything at all that could be thought of as dangerous or would mess up his broken foot. 

It wasn't really much. In subject or in word count or in technical finesse. He hadn’t been doing this writing thing for very long, not since university and stories scrawled in his near illegible handwriting hidden in paper notebooks beneath his bed. Not for himself. 

He saved the document and slammed the window closed before he could look at it and convince himself it was all completely stupid and he never should’ve even tried in the first place.

But it was cathartic and it gave him somewhere to put the irrational seething anger, outlined by the sorrow that seeped through in the lines between, to bleed out on paper, in words that were his first language and first love. In the beginnings of stories that didn’t have to be perfect or real and contained far too much of himself to even think about showing anybody yet, but that maybe one day he would. 

When Virgil knocked on the door and opened it, John jumped like he’d been caught out. Then he glanced up and saw the blue paint splodge turned flying bird from the corner of his eye, and he could smile at Virgil with all the love in the world and more understanding of how his brother worked. Of why after hard rescues and bad days his first instinct was to turn to piano or canvas.

Seeing what Virgil was carrying on the tray in his hands had John wishing he hadn’t ever broken his foot so he could throw himself at Virgil to hug him this very second. Though if he hadn’t been injured, he never would’ve come down from Five today.

A blueberry bagel, toasted, with the special strawberry cream cheese that was his favourite but never lasted long in space. Or on Earth, unless his brothers saved it for him on purpose. 

There was a cup of tea too, next to Virgil’s customarily massive mug of coffee.

John just stared up at him, until he found his voice to whisper all his thanks over and over. He took the plate and the cup in slightly trembling hands, then placed them on the floor next to him. 

He raised his arms so that Virgil would crouch down and John could squish him into a hug. 

John clung to red flannel for a few seconds longer than he usually would. Virgil returned it in kind, smiling at him with soft, brown eyes. 

Then he was fussing over John’s foot again, propping it up on pillows and wrapping an icepack around it. John took it in because this was Virgil’s way of showing he cared. As well, it would mean he could get back on his feet sooner by not ignoring the injury. Plus it hurt less.

Before Virgil returned to his desk and pencils, John bumped their foreheads together in show of affection not as frequently done between them with the distance. It was often Scott and Virgil’s thing.  Virgil hummed happily at him even when John wobbled as he leaned forward, making the collision slightly more forceful than he intended. Instead they laughed together over Tracy hard heads. 

Enjoying each other’s company with no pressure to talk or interact was nice and exactly what they both needed. They could do their own things in parallel, Virgil with his art, a sketch forming beneath steady hands, and John with… whatever he was doing at this point.

Gathering up his courage, he cautiously reopened his word document from earlier and read over what he’d written. It was… okay actually. The typos and errors he grimaced at were numerous, but those were fixable problems.

It was a story, he’d written something. John found himself smiling down at his tablet with the urge to add more so he did.

The time passed in the light from the windows transforming from light gold to a fiery orange, stretching across their room and their island alike. As dusk grew closer, the bird calls and insect songs changed, and there were so many wonderful things about space that John could never give up loving but it didn't have this.

So maybe that was what was wrong with him. Instead of a flaw in his very humanity, it was more not enough food and too much stress, not sleeping right or talking to anyone. Those simple things he sort of… forgot about, ignored. John needed to be around family too, with the sunlight streaming in, plants in touching distance and the quiet company of Virgil and some care to feel better. 

Maybe while he was down here, he’d even go stargazing outside tomorrow, lying on a picnic blanket on the grass like he used to. Monitor work could be taken care of at dad’s desk, there’d be time to help Allie with his school work then play video games together and once his cast was off, swim in Gordon’s ocean. To hang out with Scott too and help pull his beloved biggest brother out of his own overwork spiral. He hadn’t had a chance to catch up with Grandma or Kayo or Brains in a while either. 

Only then would he return to Five, to his stars and space, his research and monitor duty proper. His little room up there, the gravity ring and central floating hub, with Eos as his companion, they were home too. Not in replacement of the island and his family but in addition. And he knew he could come down to Earth when he needed to even if, especially when it was just because he wanted a hug.

Right now, the soft patter of his fingertips on the glass screen blended with the scratchings of Virgil’s coloured pencils on artist’s paper. 

He munched on his bagel and sipped his tea contentedly. Virgil had been cupping his warm mug of coffee in his hands, happily sighing as John fought the urge to giggle.

It was with a cheerier and more relaxed Virgil that they ended up squished together on the beanbag pile once the sun was fully set. John snuggled into his brother’s side, it really had been too long but he was here now. 

Virgil’s fingers tapped contentedly against the knee of his jeans like he was playing a melody on the piano, other arm tucked around John, meaning John could feel the vibrations as Virgil hummed along. John went from messing with the case of his tablet to happily flickering his hands at his sides.

Also, how were the beanbags this comfortable? These ones didn’t even rustle and squeak like he remembered the ones they’d had as kids did. 

Those had met a horrific end with their guts all over the house when Gordon had wanted to know what was inside them and out of scientific curiosity John had helped find the answers, utilising his ability to read and follow the instructions on the tag of how to open the pull-less zipper with an ancient paperclip. 

He retold the story to Virgil whose eyes widened in surprise.

“So it was you!” he laughed. “I’d wondered how Gords did it, but I hadn't put anything past the fish.”

John lost his battle with holding in his own giggles and decided to let Virgil in on the secrets of a few other John-and-Gordon specials.

There was a knock before Scott ducked his head around the corner of the doorway, just as John glanced up.

Scott leant against the frame, intense blue eyes looking him over. John couldn’t tell whether they were sharper in person than over hologram or softer. They stuck on John’s cast, flicking to Virgil before scanning carefully over his body, same as if any of the others were injured in the field. 

“Scott,” John stated. An acknowledgment that his big brother was here. The tight, tangled  barbed wire ball that had been living in his stomach for days loosened further. 

“You okay?”

How was he supposed to answer that? In this moment, laughing aloud with Virgil, yeah he was. But all the rest of the day, the week beforehand? John gave a noncommittal shrug that didn’t give much either way. 

Of course that became cause for Scott to come closer. He knelt in front of John, ever so mindful of his broken foot. 

Telegraphing his movements, Scott reached out and brushed John’s hair out of his face before silently kissing his forehead, all gentle big brother who was here for him no matter what.

He repeated the motion with Virgil. 

John froze for precious seconds then threw himself at Scott. 

It hurt. He’d forgotten about his foot in its awful cast for a moment, knocking it painfully against the floor with a broken yelp. But Scott caught him anyway. Virgil’s arms went back around him too and he was still humming but in a steadier pitch. 

John was sniffling against Scott’s chest, soaking up his brothers’ warmth and all the love in the room, even as he wasn’t sure whether he was crying again from sorrow or pain or because they both cared about him so, so much and the happy-overwhelmed feeling got stuck as a lump in his throat.

Maybe together they could fix this mess John had somehow made. But right now John let them hold him close, let Scott rock them until the calm of the room could creep back in.

A cuddle pile formed on the beanbags once again, this time with Scott too. John leant back on Scott’s chest, still hiccuping occasionally from the tears. Both sets of their long legs alongside each other were tossed over Virgil’s lap, who’d very fairly called them a lanky, boney weighted blanket, while snuggling in with no suggestion they move. He could feel Scott’s chin resting on top of his head, breaths lightly tickling his hair.

Virgil had had to check again, with the medscanner he kept in his studio first aid kit, that John hadn’t screwed up his foot in its bright orange cast. Yet he hadn’t and even though John could still feel the pain of the impact, Virgil had given him another dose of ibuprofen which would take the edge off soon.

John’s eyes slid half shut with exhaustion. Scott let him fidget with his hands as he gripped them. Virgil was tapping out piano pieces again, a more relaxed melody now against the top John’s bare shin, the sensation grounding and reminding him Virgil was close.He had his brothers. All of them. All of his family. They loved him and they’d help him figure this out and that was more that enough, it was everything.

[never-surrender]

HALSIN IS AUTISTIC. Nobody can convince me otherwise, but I'm here to write a headcanon about the how of the matter. So how is Halsin autistic, what are his stims and the tells that make it so that you know that he is? Well.. honestly his tells are quite subtle. He doesn't visibly stim, so you have to look at other things to be able to tell.

For one, his best and seemingly only friend is fucking nature itself. If that isn't the biggest tell I don't know what is. He was a loner as a child, at one with nature enough that he was able to befriend Thaniel... its really cute, honestly.

His sense of justice is so fucking strong that he takes everything personally as his own thing to take on or as his own fault. To a point he blames himself for the shadow curse, when it is not his fault at all. And then when it happens, he 'obsesses' over it (read: special interest), and will not let it go until it has been handled and taken care of.

He uses his hands ... a LOT. like a LOT A LOT. Bro can't stay still, is always using his hands, whether its through talking or by whittling.

Bro probably knows everything there is to know about ducks. He says they're his favorite animal, and because of it he's constantly whittling them.

[terresdebrume]

Hello children, it's office drama time

Covering several aspects of a worsening work environment x)

Aspect the first: the creation of the staff/teacher room

So until last year, each teacher had their own room and students would move from one to the other for classes. This was much more comfortable for us, allowed us to actually decorate our rooms (as encouraged) and also gave the students a little bit more occasions to move around between classes rather than having to stay in there 2hrs at a time. At the end of last year, we were told that we would have to switch to the reverse system and use a teachers' room to prepare classes.

Now, because language classes mix students of the same year and the Chinese lessons use the homerooms (which are bigger) I have my own room and I'm therefore not subjected to the teachers' room, but I can still have Opinions over its installation, which went as follows:

Upon arrival 3 days before the planned start of the school year, all teachers are instructed to work in "their room" for the mornings & attend meetings in the afternoons. The vast majority of teachers, having neither a homeroom nor a subject room to take possession of, has no fucking idea what they're supposed to do

While I set up the French class + my homeroom, a few of the room-less teachers who were present last year take one of the two staff rooms and set it up to their preference

That same day, the guy in charge of logistics and maintenance barges in, rudely tells everyone off for setting things up, and informs them that actually admin will be the ones assigning seats in the staff rooms

Upon being told that things would have been smoother if the rooms were set-up, logistics guy proceeds to explain that he never wanted this system and didn't know it would happen (it's a lie: we got the room assignments a week before we came back to work)

Staff room is left as is for 3 business days, then logistics guy tries to gain sympathy for staying until 9pm on a holiday to set up the staff rooms. Again: he knew about this AT LEAST two weeks before the installation

The Saturday before classes start, seating assignments in the staff room are sent. All teachers are grouped by specialties except for Z (head of foreign languages), K (head of English) and M (English teacher who's been here for years & got a camera in their homeroom which apparently records image AND sound)

K & Z, both new to the school, both picked as heads of department over people who have 3-5 years of seniority (and in the case of Z, more competence than them imo) are seated together, away from teachers allegedly in their department

M is sat in the middle of the PE teachers, away from their head of department

The consensus between M, S (another friend) & I is that it's starting to feel like M is in the management's bad books

Aspect the second: the probable HQ plants

Z, foreign languages head

Z joined us for the last two weeks of last year, upon which they immediately (as in week 1)

Badmouthed the 2ndary Chinese teacher to L, the primary Chinese teacher who was trying their best to act as head of department at the request of the principal at the time, saying the other teacher's classes were a bit shit and she wasn't invested (granted it was an open secret in 2ndary but have some fucking decorum/professionalism ffs)

Spent the entirety of those 2 weeks trying to get L to go out with them for drinks despite a) having known them less than 2 days at the first occurrence b) L's repeated response that they didn't drink (I have since been told that Z has done that with several teachers & proceeded to ask pointed questions about work to the inebriated teachers)

On top of that, I personally am not very fond of Z because this afternoon they made a comment on the visible mending on my jeans, which would be fine except they touched the patch which is on my fucking thigh + my understanding is that they tried to make one of our autistic student take off the construction helmet they wear to deal with their sound sensitivity (there is a possibility I misunderstood that one though to be fair, I will need to follow up on that w students)

K, head of English

Joined this year, immediately buddy'd it up with the superintendent who is pretty distant usually. Was conspicuously seated next to other suspected plant Z in the staff room. Also: M, person overlooked in K's favor for head of department, ended up sitting in the other staff room from K's, and this morning K said in front of all the other teachers of that room that 'they could keep M' when all the other English teachers are in K's room

(in fairness: M put their foot in it MAJORLY on day one and is now trying to avoid K as much as possible so that uh. Does not help.)

I will also say that I straight up don't like K's Vibe on the basis that their "greetings" to me every day this week (after literally talking for 15 minutes tops) has been to say "you!" Pretending to shoot me, and then trying to laugh it off

I have explicitly told them I don't like it this morning (after trying to jokingly point out it was weird a couple times, only for them to tell me "it's going to become a habit") we'll see how that shakes out

ETA: Minor but very telling bullshit

One of our classes rn has 32 students

One of our early meetings delineated rules for avoid AC overuse and one of the proposed actions was to ask the scholarship students to take pictures of the AC units + fans every hour and send it to the student services

[rainbowgod666]

Welcome to the Multiverse

Colors sendable (the first image is from @sizzlingcandyjellyfishhh while thesecond image is from @gaybichon), and also the @wynmu vibes thing. While the divider was made by @sister-lucifer (weird url ik but mines weirder soooo)

To all RPers: my very existence takes the narrative and uses it as toilet paper. The 4th wall is my onahole. You can use the askbox to talk to your blorbos.

To let you get started, here are some of my best posts. Remember that the Ourple ones are KINDA mandatory if you want ANY background on wtf is this blog.

List of my powers / Its the end of the world as you know it (and i did it on purpose) / an admin kicked me off the island lmao / Mental Health Time / That one time i traumadumped to mewo omori about my usual shit / PM Seymour has removed me from his internet. / You Absolute Buffoons / The Numeron Game / Well thats a thing that happened! / Out of touch: leap yeap / 🅱️usiness / Magnus did nothing wrong, except its steven universe / welcome to the internet, SCP edition / #HALLOLLAH# / AMERICA IS FASCIST HEAVEN BECAUSE FUNNY / Lost Childhoods / please save those poor gay americans / Free Disco Elysco / Bone to the bad / Priting Wrojects / the True Range of my abilities / the fuck's an apocalypse knight anyway? / @punkitt-is-here fucked Geronimo Stilton and i think its a good thing / Alex goes batshit insane and forces everyone to do as he says... again 🙄 / Screaming in a Pattern. / wizardposting: because powerscaling needed fuckign Zeno Dragonballsuper apparently / BEN 10 BUT LANCER? FUCK YEAH! / So i went batshit insane again / High Geology / fantasy settings on tumblr are really fucking cool actually / RIFLE. IS. FINE. BUT YOU FUCK UP DESIGN YOU UROD. / i technically claimed ownership of Dr. Bright and Betty from glitchtale do you seriously think im NOT gonna do that for homestuck? / XenasOuch / SCP-8000 contest, OR: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUC- / LEMMINO but like, 8 years ago / Hazbin Hotel: a necessary... something i guess. / the original joke was my brain yapping about predators sooo...

Below is who i am, and also the tags you can (and should) search for

Hi, name's Alex.

Born on the first ever day of 2005 and also having aspergers, i am a guy from italy trying to make it impossible for anyone to spend a day without knowing who i am. Also i literally trascend powerscaling so hard the only things that can even put a DENT on me are... decided by me. Welcome to the multiverse i guess.

DNI: people who support genocide, people who tolerate corporate bullshit, racists, and terfs.

The following list is ALL THE TAGS USED TO NAVIGATE THIS BLOG. Seriously. This masterpost is an explaiantion for the "portal hub" i placed in the search bar

Lore Post: sometimes the lore of the multiverse, sometimes my personal life.

Welcome to the multiverse: sometimes MASSIVE textpost telling everyone "oh yeah right, this dude has autism", usually me existing. tHE MAIN TAG.

Alex's Answering Machine: literally my asks

The magical workshop: turns out the wizards of tumblr are the reason the phrase "some of y'all have gotten too comfortable saying stuff without getting punched for it" exist. And its up to my autistic, protagonism-fueled low self-esteem high self-awareness ass to... fix shit up.

Belowstory: undertale but REALLY FUCKED UP: so basically frisk falls down and is greeted by a feminine voice that calls itself chara (it becomes slightly visible after getting out of the ruins) and like the good boi undertale character he is he proceeds to save the world. This entire thing exists because one time I was like "how fucked up OP can a sans be before its My Immortal levels of wtf?" And uh yeah here we are uuuuuuh sans greets you by pointing a .44 magnum at you so thank the head of the guards (papyrus) for saving you. Everyone here is broken and just wants A Fucking Break. Also you gain levels in pacifist because LOVE is Level Of VirtuE. Fuck you lmao

Undertale.exe: so I looked at Camilla Cuevas being an awful person. Then i looked at the beautiful anime that is @jakei95's underverse... then i smushed it all toghether to basically create the perfect AU. Frisk is a pansexual fuccboi that Has Game, Chara is THICC and powerful, Betty is built like a ballerina and is 1000 years old, and Asriel is a Streemur. All of them live in this house far away from the city thats literally a larger version of sans' house. All charachters can legally drink (prepare for Drunk Chara shenanigans where its Betty Glitchtale the drunk one instead) and the only one who (probably) isnt gay is Asriel (even though frisk covets the Dreemur Dong) (one day soldier, one day...). Many chatachters from many AUs sometimes come to visit cause, you know. Its a nice place.

Curseworld: massive writing project of mine which is just "adventure time shaped mass of autism". The world is cursed and fucked over, and everything is colorful. Its also part Owl House because fuck you the magic system is FUCKED here.

Internet friends: basically internet stereotype-shaped people. We have a furry thats normal, a reddit/discord mod that just wants to work in peace, and the protagonist is Just A Guy but a-ha! He has both an xbox an...d ps5 thus fucking over any CAD reference. The last sketch i made was a mr.monopoly shaped guy who really wants youngsters to actually AFFORD shit who is married to a very obvious reference to Meru the succubus. Also i 100% intend to put a gag about mr beast living in an ATM when he isnt making videos

Im looking respectfully: look. Back then tumblr was basically Rule 34 with twitter users. Now its way better at the cost of a fraction of their value. Have fun looking at attactive women!

TOH:NEXT GENERATION: not even @moringmark's comics are safe! Enjoy the adventures of ayzee commented by me... telling everyone that shes STRONG strong. Like holy shit girl inherited will much?

Warhammer 50k: listen. This is just me looking at games workshop and fucking emperors tts and going "fuck that. Heres mine". This is a project where my "shard" assegned to this universe basically copies the imperium because, and im not joking, "the emperor is kind of a baka, but then again tzeentch is a thing so...". Also btw TTS is canon as SHIT. Like fr its all canon. Yes even the shadowsun fling, let kitten rest.

Pluripotent Impotence: an scp canon of mine thats basically "the foundation is so cold and clinical they MASSIVELY misunderstood shit". 6140, 6500, 5500 and 7000 are canon. 2718 and 5000 are in the files but they basically might as well not exist. 3812 is living tech support. 166 is in her early 20s and 239 is 19 and they fuck nasty (theyre also childhood friends. Girl Love i guess~) because fuck you clef love wins especially yuri go snort telekill dust. 2317 loves humans and thins theyre cute and squishy and when its seventh child turned out to be fucking JoyBoy? Yeah get this: he DID condemn the fortune teller that was like "dude your sevent child is one of those prophecy children that are so in vogue these days" but also messed with fate so that her death ended up being the coolest and most inspiring shit ever because he was like "considering the average Evil King story, i might as well just... let this happen! Maybe i can convince my literal offspring to spare me!" And it fucking worked. Also a bunch of shit is canon. @i-am-dado looks like a Kpop star and is somft. Dr Jack bright is my character and mine alone and also elias shaw is there i guess. My OC bangs the first one of these 2 amulet boys on a regular basis and the second one occasionally, dont ask why is there a gay polycule when im straight, there are some things that escape my mind. I have been in SCP for a long time and regardless of me making my account 6/1/2024 (LA BEFANAH) i have been here longer than you believe in. From my perspective it took a year before a 5000 contest was announced, so fcuk yoyu

Earth-ℵ₀: the best way to take care of the DC and Marvel universes is... let an autistic dude fix damages done by money-hungry idiots in hollywood. The joker is unimportant. Dr.Manhattan is Done With This Shit. I made a squad with random charachters i like. Lmao suck on uranium rods UwU

ytposting: (Funkdela Catalogue: Encounter starts playing)

Omni-shit: ben 10 is actually a good series guys, and the reboot is an interesting way of showing what would Ben 10 Classic look like if it was made Now

1% enhancement: basically i look at something and go like "hey what if the charachters were basically part me but not in a Knights of the Apocalypse way"

Tumblr italia: aò sono italiano che cos'altro vi aspettate

components: basically i use tumblr as image hosting. LoL.

Items: images turned undertale items. For reference, i have 2³¹-1 HP and my stats are ATK 100000 and DEF 65535. Yes the attack is a yugioh zexal reference. NOSTALGIA IS PTSD BUT GOOD.

Mungeon Deshi: dunmeshi is a good anime and marcille is italian

Full Nelson Analchemist: if FMA exists in my presence im going to give the 20k mg weed gummy to Truth

Evangelion 4.0: look, hideki anno has gone insane. Every time he makes evangelion as the most brain damaging version of telling someone to go touch grass people inevitably miss the point. I take it upon myself to give the @jakei95 treatment to the poor creatures (also fun fact: KAWOSHIN CANON. THEY KISS ON SCREEN. FUCK YOU AMERICA.)

The hoes are stuck: homestuck. What you thought they were safe from my grasp? 人間 you havent seen sheiße.

FeeF the BeeB: minecraft mod bullsheiße

[[Nothing Is Worth The Risk]]: lets just say that sometimes, the multiverse isnt that "cool and good"

Ultimate Sonic: i have a Sonic AU where... uhm... just. If i have a post about that. Just look at it. LoL.

Multiverse Polls: i make tHEM-

Autistic and Artistic: (draws happily)

Side effects of reading this blog can vary between true insight into the inner workings of the universe and self-defenestration from the top of the burj khalifa.

Anyways welcome to the multiverse

Do yourself a favour and dont go out without a loaded gun.

[dameronalone]

no no. I'm gonna make a post about it. I was thinking abt making a nonrebloggable rant in tags but. I'm too bitter and asshole-ish today

the ableism in the moon knight fandom is fucking disgusting.

me every time someone goes "omg my widdle baby Steven so cute 🥺🥰" whenever he does. something. totally normal.

im just. constantly moderately to extremely uncomfortable with the constant babyfication of him. like yeah I know he's a very visibly* autistic man I don't know what else I was expecting but I still hate it and I still hate how BLATANTLY everyone is about the constant ableism, especially in reader-fic communities.

because Steven is a widdle baby who doesn't know what sex is or he doesn't know what boundaries are and BOTH are horribly ableist autism tropes.

its just gross. it's fucking gross. he's a grown man. being autistic doesn't change that he is in fact a grown man. like i don't care what your headcanons are for him as long as they aren't grossly ableist. sure write a story about adults who haven't had sex before, that's fine that's good I don't care, but the second you start veering into. treating him like a little baby. wrong. do not pass go. do not collect. go straight to jail.

*visibly has the asterisk because Marc is also clearly autistic but not in the "usual" ways that Steven is. it was very obvious to me and many other autistic watchers that marc was autistic.

this most is mostly about Steven so i won't get into all the ableist ways Marc (and jake) are treated (especially because the ableism surrounding Jake tends to be more of the DID kind than the autistic kind but it's there) and all I have to say on that is that it's Fascinating to see the three variations of violent anti-autistic ableism fanon does with people sharing the Actual Same Autism, Like, In The Same Brain