#matthew . tism.

[lilydvoratrelundar]

"I'm not scared of her" "You should be. She's... dangerous" "So am I"

[losergendered]

well. new pfp <3

[dolokhoded]

the thing about me is im going to hyperfixate on the new testament of all things. i will inevitably and predictably get attached to the guy who betrays jesus and then hangs himself, cause that's what queer ex-christians do. that's alright though, cause there are more characters i like ! like eldest thunder for example. second one to die in a horrible martyring death leaving all his friends and his younger brother behind. and if that doesn't work out well, there's always the zealot.

[raven1sh]

Hyperfixations are weird. Currently fighting between loving Matt Murdock and four Australian dogs that are a family.

Meaning I know get unnecessary amount of serotonin at the color red and saying “Bingo!” in random intervals in the most awkward Australian accent.

[stardustspaceway]

I don’t have a funny caption idea so imma just talk about my doodles

Im guessing that Paul was around 16 when he saw Emma in Brigadoon (in 2003). In my head, he’s that type of kid who doesn’t really have a group they gravitate towards, socially awkward, blends into crowds and willingly sits alone. You never really notice him. Sycamore is kinda implied to be the poorer school than Hachetfield High. Less funding and no one seems to want to go there so maybe Paul just didn’t have a lot of money, growing up.

The Paulkins scene where Emma is holding his face. I die everytime. I think it’s funny how uninterested Paul looks when Emma is being romantic with him. Both this and the “kiss” scene. It’s the ‘tism…

I think more people should make fan content with Paul and Hannah interacting. They’re both autistic coded hatchetfield characters who end up predicting supernatural happenings. The thought of Paul Matthews, having a touch of the gift yet being normal guy #2 is a little funny. He knows something awful is about to happen but who would believe him. Little does he know, he’s the narrative’s favorite guy to torture. Hannah’s also one of my favorite HF characters, mainly due to Nightmare Time. All she deserves is a comfortable life with her sister and Ethan…

[clotpolesonly]

Six Of One

welcome to another episode of "Jess projects her experiences onto fictional characters" 😂 it's been a little while! (i strongly suspect that this experience of mine is the 'tism somehow, hence me subjecting my autistic king Declan to it) anyway, the title is a truncation of the phrase "six of one, half dozen of another" which means that two options are equal in value and, thus, it doesn't actually matter which you choose. one is as good as the other. | Jordeclan | Gen | 2.3k | Established Relationship | Verbal Shutdown | Accommodations | Fluff | (also on AO3)

The new studio space was spacious, well-lit, and blissfully free of vegetable-esque breasts. This one also had an elevator instead of three flights of stairs, thank God. Declan stepped out of it and into the familiar scent of turpentine and canvas, strong even though all the doors along the hallway were currently closed. A small, private smile tugged at his lips, despite his mood.

Perhaps it wasn’t right to call it a mood. By all accounts, Declan felt fine. His day had gone well so far, with a number of business transactions handled smoothly and efficiently, a phone number attained for a frustratingly difficult to track down associate-of-an-associate-of-an-associate, and several texts exchanged with Ronan with hardly any insults involved. It was breezy outside with just a hint of chill in the air signaling the incoming cold snap. The barista at the café had called him Derek again, but she’d finally gotten his coffee order just right. Matthew had only been five minutes late to soccer practice instead of his usual ten.

Declan had had far more stressful days than this one—he could practically see the look Ronan would give him for the sheer magnitude of that understatement—and yet he couldn’t help the tightness in his shoulders as he let himself into the studio.

Jordan was at her easel, engrossed in whatever she was working on today. Music spilled from her laptop, as it often did when she painted, and her voluminous cloud of curls jounced with every enthusiastic bop of her head. The baggy jean overalls she’d taken to wearing had been released from her shoulders, straps instead tied haphazardly around her waist to leave her in a mildly paint-splattered sports bra instead. She was barefoot.

Some of Declan’s tension eased.

The Artist Unbound, oil on canvas, he thought. Or perhaps pastels, to capture the soft haziness of the feeling that grew in his chest to see her like this. Not for the first time, he considered taking Jordan up on her offer to teach him how to actually make art himself, instead of only appreciating others’. It was always said with a teasing lilt, but she meant it. Every time, she meant it.

It wasn’t until one track flipped over to another less to Jordan’s liking that she noticed his presence. She immediately rerouted from the laptop to dance her way across the room, smiling, until she was close enough to kiss him.

“About time, Pozzi,” she said, arms sliding around Declan’s waist. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen down a manhole or slipped through a sewer grate or something equally cartoonish and ridiculous. Not because I thought it likely—I mean, let’s be honest, if anyone is going to fall prey to cartoon physics in this, the real world, it would definitely be Ronan—but I’ll admit, I did get a certain amount of schadenfreude from the mental image. Hope you don’t mind, love you lots, anyway, what took you so long? Did Matthew lose a fight with his cleats again?”

Declan opened his mouth to tell her about the Masshole who cut him off right when he needed to change lanes to catch his exit. He was going to tell her about the lady’s flowery “Choose Kindness” bumper sticker and make a quip about irony. “If only I could be that lacking in self-awareness,” he planned to say, “it’s probably so much easier to live that way.”

He didn’t say any of it. He thought it. He thought it clearly and fluently, all the words lined up and ready to go. Then he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

His shoulders inched back up toward his ears. Jordan’s fingers dug into his back, no doubt feeling the tension creep in there as well, and she pulled back a bit to look at him.

“Alright, bruv?”

Declan closed his mouth. He nodded. It both was and was not the truth.

Jordan tilted her head to the side, lips pursing. She didn’t look concerned, which Declan appreciated, but the scrutiny brought more color to his cheeks than he would’ve liked.

Tone light and easy, she said, “Hand-Cat got your tongue with its weird little hands?”

That mental image, every bit as cartoonish as Ronan falling down a manhole and twice as disturbing, yanked a laugh out of him. Jordan’s smile was smug, like it always was when she managed to make Declan laugh in a way that would embarrass him if he’d done it in public, but she was still watching him carefully. Looking for clues, maybe, or for an explanation.

Declan wanted to tell her, It’s fine.

He wanted to tell her, You don’t need to worry, it’s only that my mouth has spontaneously developed a dysfunction where it refuses to produce sound.

He wanted to tell her, This happens sometimes. No, I don’t know why.

He wanted to tell her, All the words are still in here, I just can’t seem to get them out.

Instead, he fished his phone out of his pocket. He opened up their text thread and typed out a message, turning it around for her to read instead of sending it.

[Do you mind if I talk like this?]

Jordan had to pull back further to squint at the small screen, tightening her grip on his waist to keep from tipping over backwards. A crease appeared between her eyebrows, lips pursing again. Her eyes darted to his face for a mere second, assessing, and then her face cleared. She shrugged expansively.

“Doesn’t make any difference to me, Pozzi. Words in air, words on a screen—six of one, if you know what I mean. Call it a baker’s dozen if you throw in emojis. Did Matthew teach you about those yet? The silly little pictures the kids are using these days?”

Declan rolled his eyes. He typed out another message.

[I’m acquainted with the concept of emojis, yes. I didn’t even need Matthew’s tutelage in them.]

He included a little old man emoji to punctuate the statement. It might have been the first time he had ever actually utilized an emoji in a text message, but Jordan didn’t need to know that. It made her laugh, anyway, which was the important thing.

She stepped back out of their embrace, her hands taking a brief detour to squeeze his ass before letting him go completely, and dug her own phone out of one of her overall pockets. She held it up with a jaunty little shake.

“Mind if I respond out loud?” she asked, walking backwards in the direction of her half-finished painting. “Only, this shit’s messy, and touchscreens and fingerpainting don’t get along very well. Though I suppose I could make something avant garde out of it. Statement about the sanitization of the internet and corporate whatever-you-like killing the creative spirit and whatnot. You’d have to buy me a new phone after, if I sacrificed this one to the art gods, but I know you’re good for it.”

[You can talk normally.]

Declan sent this text, since Jordan had retreated too far to read it from his screen. She checked the message and nodded. Then she spent a minute fiddling with her phone, humming along to the laptop’s next selection. She propped it up on the edge of her easel, far enough away from the canvas to not be in danger of getting splattered, with an air of triumph.

“Futzed with the settings,” she explained. “So it won’t time out and turn off as fast and I won’t have to keep trying to unlock it with messy fingers. If you say something and I don’t notice for too long, whistle or some shit.”

Declan watched as she picked up her abandoned brush, loaded it with paint, and set about her work without further ado. It took him a moment to recalibrate. He wasn’t certain exactly what reaction he’d expected, but an absence of questions, comments, or concerns apparently had not been it. Eventually, he shucked off his jacket and took up his usual position on the couch, angled just so to have the best view of Jordan herself and also a glimpse of her piece as it came together under her deft hand.

Normally, this was the part of the evening when Declan would talk. Well, he spent a lot of every day talking, but this was when he would actually say things. Things that mattered to him, stories he wanted to tell, jokes too inappropriate to make in a business setting, anecdotes no one else in his life would’ve cared to hear but Jordan always did. Now, he turned his phone over in his hand a few times before typing out, [Missed my exit. Some Masshole with a “choose kindness” bumper sticker cut me off in traffic, if you can believe that.]

Jordan’s phone buzzed with the incoming text. He watched as she finished a careful stroke of the brush before glancing down at the screen, still lit up. She snorted.

“Choose kindness? The irony’s killing me, mate. D’you think she takes selfies sipping $18 frappuccinos and captions them with Love Is Love and #positivity?”

[Almost certainly.] He added a peace sign emoji. It made Jordan laugh. [But Matthew was very nearly on time today, I’ll have you know.]

Jordan’s gasp was theatrical. “Really? He does learn!”

[Miracle of miracles. He didn’t even bitch when I said we didn’t have time to stop for McDonald’s. Truly, a day of firsts.]

Part of Declan thought that maybe Matthew had chosen to let it go on purpose—one of those rare moments of perceptiveness that were growing less rare with time, now that Matthew was making an effort toward, as he put it, “learning how to think better”. On the way to soccer practice had been when Declan’s mouth had started to betray him. He’d had to think “Matthew, put your seatbelt on” six times before he’d managed to actually communicate it audibly. The McDonald’s question had been met with a curt “no time for that”, forced out with far more effort than made any kind of sense for four very simple words that Declan said on a regular basis. By the time they’d reached the school, it had been a true struggle to muster up a goodbye, and once he had, he’d known there would be no more verbalizing tonight.

Matthew hadn’t seemed upset or like he thought Declan was mad at him, which was a relief because he wasn’t. There had been nothing wrong. Declan wasn’t even anxious about anything, beyond his general baseline. He’d thought plenty of perfectly amiable thoughts in Matthew’s direction on that trip. He’d told himself to say them instead, over and over. The rest of him just hadn’t cooperated.

He wondered now if, had he not been driving, Matthew would have minded him texting instead. Matthew wasn’t text-phobic like Ronan. He probably would’ve been over the moon about the opportunity to introduce emoji usage into their conversations, regardless of whatever malfunction of Declan’s speech capabilities had provided it.

Jordan certainly didn’t seem to mind. She chatted away the same way she always did, with only a slight delay when her eyes were too busy to spare. Text wasn’t a particularly expressive medium for conveying tone, but she knew him well enough to infer when he was being wry. She did send him an amused look for how long it took him to type out several paragraphs’ worth of commentary on the Henry Wallis wannabe from down the hall, but she put down her brush to read it all eagerly enough that he didn’t feel judged for it.

Despite the alteration to their routine, it felt just the same as it always did.

Declan wanted to tell her, I love you.

Instead, he texted, [You’re really not going to ask, are you?]

He’d been quiet—so to speak—for long enough that Jordan had to double-tap at her screen with the back of her cleanest knuckle to access the notification. She didn’t need clarification or context. She just wiped some carmine paint onto the thigh of her overalls and said, “Is it something that needs asking about?”

Declan turned that question over in his head. He would have asked, if he’d been in her position. He’d been asking himself for hours. Hell, he’d been asking himself for years, what this was and why it happened and why he couldn’t just spit it out when he got like this. He’d yet to find an answer or a solution.

But Jordan hadn’t needed one. All she’d needed was a way to keep hearing him.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He couldn’t say it right now, but he could wrap his arms around Jordan’s waist and press a kiss to her shoulder. She set down her brush in favor of reaching up to bury her fingers in his curls, cupping the back of his head to keep him close. She was undoubtedly getting paint in his hair. He decided that he didn’t care very much. They stayed like that for most of a song, swaying gently, Jordan humming along contentedly despite this particular track not being of a genre that easily lent itself to humming.

On the easel, Jordan’s phone screen dimmed, sleep mode impending. Declan picked it up before it could go fully dark. He typed in a text and held it up for Jordan to see.

[Thank you.]

Jordan wiggled around to face him properly, settling her arms around his neck and somehow managing to trap the phone between their chests. She kissed him, sweet and slow.

“Anytime, Pozzi,” she murmured against his lips. “Six of one, know what I mean?”

Declan thought, I’m starting to.

[isogenderskitty]

based on this being right after that conversation with bill and also on the “IM GONNA GET COFFEE. YOU WANT ANYTHING?” at the end of mr davidson’s song, i get the feeling that paul just. copes with any mildly upsetting work occurrence by speed walking to beanies to see emma. which is really cute actually

can we talk about how it was nobody else’s fault, apocalypse included, that paul didn’t finish his reports in tgwdlm. he literally left to get coffee and then never went back to work that day. iconic tbh

[oldfritz]

Can I get the ask meme for everyone’s favorite ‘Tism coded lil guy Ludwig?

welcome to the party, my love. ufo50 treating you kinder tonight?

favorite thing about them: he's sad and wet. i like that in a man. also he's just interesting. you can do a lot with him. the fascination with him comes from much the same place as the actual country, to be honest

least favorite thing about them: literally nothing

favorite line: that being said, everything patrick seitz has ever said in a blooper reel. who cares that it's not canon material? five cats for five deutschmarks did get it's reference in the dub...

brOTP: him and kiku just get each other, you know?

OTP: local heathen prefers gerame, more at eleven

nOTP: all the heavy ones, but let's be a little lighthearted. i don't like germano

random headcanon: of course he's rich, but he prefers to live upper middle class. ostentatious displays of wealth and status make him itchy. makes him feel like his fathers

unpopular opinion: i don't honestly think i have any?

song i associate with them: madman's eyes by dave matthews band and dynasty by rina sawayama

favorite picture of them: rawr XD (i'm so sorry)

[adm1rationofthem0ngoos3]

“Matt can I possibly have a bite?” - @ask-zephyrkane

Matthew smirked. "Sure," he hummed. [ the 'tism is strong, and have can be used for either asking Matt to bite you or if you could bite matt, which way is it? <: ]

[starryv01dz]

PORTAL BROTHERS ANGST HCS BC THEY BREAK MY HEART-

Ok one, Bryan hates to admit it but he's incredibly jealous of Dylan, especially of the fact that Dylan got Matthew's ring, and not him. This went so far to the point Bryan was thinking of stealing it somehow when he eventually got Matthew's body, but decided to back out of that idea since he realized that it would be difficult, and also that if he did somehow, Dylan would never forgive him.

And hc two, Bryan was invited to Dylan's birthday a couple months back, but came up with an excuse not to go because he didn't want to face Dylan with the bringing back Matthew situation. Bryan didn't want to have any interaction with Dylan at that time because he knew it could make him back out from the plan.

Dylan found out Bryan cancelled last minute over a phone call, and Dylan tried to offer them to go to lunch together and talk about stuff maybe since he heard some stuff from Adrien, but Bryan just told them he was busy and hung up.

AUGH. OH MY GOD NIKI IM GONNA EXPLODE U

adrien forces bryan to go with lunch with dylan... and they talk.... and bryan gets really emotional..... hurt comfort ensues...... sorry the tism

[therearemorethanfivenights]

So I saw the FNAF movie, spoilers...

I loved every damn second of it. I mean, from a critical movie standpoint? Not the best. From a lover of the robo-murder-bear game standpoint? I need more injected directly into my brain right this moment. The references were all so beautiful. One thing idk if people noticed because I haven't really seen anyone mention it - did y'all notice that Matthew Patthew's nametag said Ness? Jfc. I felt wibbly emotions during that fort-building montage like "Yes let them be kids!!1! These are my friends!!" I tell you the 'tism was strong that day.

Could have used a bit more time though, I think I wanted to see a bit more of Peepaw Willie in action. He's such a fuckin goofball, loves doing murder, and having the time of his life. Lillard killed it and I kind of get what people say about him being hot. Perfectly unhinged performance, sir. Also, I like how they reversed some of the twists? Throwing in a kind of theory red herring near the beginning.

10/10 would recommend. Can't wait to see what actual monstrosity marionette is gonna end up being in the sequel, after the credits tease. Puppet my beloved I'll see u soon bby

[illogarithmil]

Rotes as Revision: Byzantine Kingship Rituals

So I am very TTRPG-brained and have a bad habit of letting it distract me from uni-work - as in "ah, the essay's due in tomorrow, I have time to make a 60x60 hexmap and populate it with encounters!" However, I'm also very 'tism-brained and so if I don't think about my beloved special interest I will simply Cease Being Productive Entirely.

A way I have recently been testing of getting around this is making TTRPG content based on whatever I'm studying at the time! One significant example, a mage game set in Northern Ireland about a plot by gnostic paramilitaries to create a new Celtic realm by utilizing the awakened spirit of a long-dead Pharoah, is a WIP at the moment, but whilst I put down my dissertation on Loyalist groups in the Troubles to focus on some essays about the Late Antique middle east for a bit, I thought I'd knock out something quick for that.

I therefore present: a Mage rote inspired by the artistic and cultural displays of dominion made use of by Eastern Roman and Sasanian emperors in their interactions with each other, though definitely applicable to circumstances outside of that! This is all heavily inspired by Matthew P. Canepa's The Two Eyes of the Earth: Art and Ritual Kingship between Rome and Sasanian Iran, an excellent book you should read if you're remotely interested in the pre-Islamic Middle East, early Iranian or early Byzantine history from either a political or cultural perspective. There are two more I have ideas for (Ritual Humiliation [Entropy 5, with optional Prime 4/Time 4] and Prestige-Garnering Warfare [Prime 3 with optional Mind 2]), but also this post has been sitting in my drafts for three weeks with only the first written so I may never get to them. Alas, the fickle butterfly of inspiration settles but briefly!

Paradigms:

Iconographic Authority (Mind 5 [crude form] or Prime 4/Mind 2+ and 10+ points of Quintessence [standard form])

The representation of the ruler, given as a gift, seems to take on the aspect and dignity of the ruler themself, carrying the sense of their presence far beyond them. Though this might conjure images of paranoia-wracked cults of personality to some, its effects can also be highly desirable - for example, the sense that a neighbouring ruler is literally present in one's court projects an image of one's power and of mutual respect without the expense or stress of continuous visits.

Common Practices: Art of Desire, Craftwork, Dominion*, Faith*, Reality Hacking Common Instruments: As part of the crafting process: Artwork*, Management and HR*; As the object itself: Artwork*, Books and Periodicals, Cups and Vessels*, Gems and Stones, Money and Wealth, Sacred Iconography, Symbols*, Weapons; As part of the gifting ceremony: Blessings and curses*, Dances and movement, Drugs and poisons, Eye contact, Fashion*, Food and drink*, Group rites*, Money and wealth*, Music*, Offerings and sacrifices, Prayers and invocations*, Sacred iconography, Social domination*, True names (titles)*, Voice and vocalizations* * appropriate for the inspiring period of Byzantine-Sasanian interactions

The mage themselves or, more likely, some of their servants craft an item representing them - usually but not necessarily a literal depiction (if it is more abstract then the difficulty should increase by +1 to +3 depending on how directly and specifically the symbols used refer to the Mage). It is then handed over in a special ceremony to another individual, as part of which they are likely showered with other gifts and luxuries. This ceremony will usually be protracted, allowing for ritual casting, though of course extremely long castings risk wearing the target's patience thin.

For the crude form, four+ successes are required, with additional successes being used to extend duration (which means that in reality, 8 are probably the minimum to make the rote useful - see the Duration chart in the M20 core book). For the duration, the target's subconscious mind is altered so that they constantly feel as though the giver of the gift is physically present with them and behave appropriately - for example, avoiding acting against them in any way that would be obvious to somebody stood in the room alongside them.

In the standard form, the item is instead a Wonder - see the rules for crafting wonders - with Arete 2 (or more if more Quintessence is invested during crafting), imbued with a Mind 2 effect which it uses on every creature that observes it, beginning with the creature gifted it. This effect projects the mental impression of the presence of the giver quite directly - it is, for targets, as if the item were literally the giver. It will first roll arete after a minute of observation, then ten minutes, then once per hour a target is in its presence, beginning by accumulating nine successes against the target (at which point its effect on them is indefinite and automatic, taking effect whenever they are in its presence until the Wonder is destroyed) and then targeting other creatures, giving one creature the impression for one scene per three successes. It does not suffer the penalty for juggling multiple effects, being very specifically designed to do so.

The effect (and the effect of the Wonder in the standard case) is only vulgar in regions without a tradition of representative artwork, or at least without one of ruler-representation as a means of projecting authority. Both forms are somewhat difficult to detect as being alien impositions rather than natural reactions, requiring at least Mind 2 or (in the standard case) a Prime-based examination of the object itself.