#stimming wildly oh my god

[allmightyscroll-swag]

GEAHEJAJRBAEJRHEHRVRGRGRVGAHRBAHAHB

HEHHRHAHHBRBEBVVGVEGGRAHEHAHAHBEQHHAHAHEHAHOOHHLEOOOH MY GOD??????

JELLY SHAKING YOU JELLY SHAKING YOU INTO TERMINAL VELOCITY I'M GOING CRAZY

ITS THE GIRL!!!! UZI MY BELOVED!!!!! YOU DID HER SO GOOD IM EATING THIS GGGRJJSJAJAHJAHGREHAHWAH

IM SO NORMAL I'M SO NORMAL TOTALLY NORMAL YEA H

@allmightyscroll-swag I wanted to draw your hyperfixation <3

I also wanted to draw a big gun :)

[owlmylove]

I saw in the notes of one of your posts that you have dermatillomania. I was recently diagnosed with that but it's been a problem for a long time. I've never met anyone else irl with dermatillomania, and I was just wondering if you could share any coping mechanisms you use? I've been getting acrylic mail manicures so I physically can't break skin but that only prevents damage. It's not helping me actually break the habit at all

lmfao oh darling. i love you for thinking i have any answers here

of course, since it's me, i do anyways

congrats on finally getting your diagnosis!! for those who don't know, Dermatillomania is a skin-picking disorder believed to affect as many as 1 out of 20 people, whether they're picking/biting at cuticles and nails, plucking hairs, popping pores or picking at scabs etc. etc. The skin-picking can be compulsive, often serving as a self-soothing behavior against extreme emotions, stress, anxiety, excess energy or simply boredom

first, check out the wonderful folks at the Picking Me Foundation, the largest nonprofit & digital resource for those with dermatillomania. Their website has an online support group, self-logging downloadables, and their "fiddle pack project," for strategically selected (and tailored for dermatillomaniacs [not sure if that's a word but i decided it is now]) $30 multipacks of stim toys!

they're 100% nonprofit, and every pack they sell is matched with the international donation of a pack to a therapist, pediatrician or fellow dermatillomaniac in need!

plus, check out #pickingme on social media for both their advice & solidarity among fellow picking enthusiasts

Picking Me has A++ strategic advice for their stim toys, and thinking strategically about your own behaviors and habits is my biggest advice. what does your picking look like? when do you find yourself doing it?

if a pattern doesn't immediately appear, try logging when & where you find yourself picking, what happened beforehand, and how you feel while doing so.

part of dermatillomania I don't always see discussed is the satisfaction of seeing your body's landscape change; picking as a control tactic, a means of self-soothing and reaffirming your autonomy and power. or it may be an expression of perfectionism, or anxiety, or beyond. pay close attention to yourself. look for the overlap. what is picking doing for you?

once you recognize the mechanisms of picking, what needs it's fulfilling, and when, and how; then you can provide new pathways for your habits to flow down; I realized I tended to pluck my brows (and beyond...) in the bathroom, so boom: stim toy in the bathroom. figure out your unique physical locations and cues and give yourself new options

also, hide or obstruct the ease of access to former habits. acrylic nails are a great personal block; I put my sharp tweezers in a wildly inconvenient place, not out in the open, so it's harder for me to casually grab them. if you bite your nails or cuticles, buy the nail polish that makes it taste gross. if you pick at inflamed pores, use zit stickers (I prefer the cheap and plentiful OG brand, COSRX, which are barely-visible circles, but you can make it fun with any of the 10 zillion novelty shape brands now available at Sephora, Target, Marshalls/T.J. Maxx & most drugstores) make picking difficult, and give yourself other options

similarly, you can challenge yourself to lovingly make growth your focus. smooth cuticle oil into your skin; use growth serums & your favorite-colored polish on your nails; for facial picking, give yourself spa days of clay masks (fun to pick off as they dry!), pore strips (SO satisfying), and scar-reducing facial oils like rosehip; for bodily picking, moisturize with lovely non-comedogenic oils and smooth Mederma or natural scar-reducing remedies to help your skin heal. put all that time and focused attention + love and gratitude into increasing, not reducing, your body (+ self)

re: gratitude, I swear to god Jessica Defino had a post about gratitude as a skincare routine; thanking your skin everyday for its work as a barrier, for it's countless built-in systems that self-exfoliate, self-moisturize, self-heal and grow, all while keeping a harmful world at bay. the skin is our largest living organ, and it is here to keep you warm and safe. your skin is built to touch and hold, to hug and be hugged. you can learn to love it the way it loves you. you can touch yourself as gently, as kindly as you deserve to be touched. this, too, is a kind of growing.

(Also to my facial & pore-picking beauties: just read any and all of Defino's articles about simplifying [like, soap water and moisturizer simplifying] your skincare, skin-fasting, the joys of touching your face gently, and more<333)

figure out what actions and textures you've become accustomed to, and, whether you have the benefit of a pack of stim toys like Pick Me's or just certain blankets, jackets, fidget jewelry, or one Really Good Rock, try to find stims that mimic, replace or even subvert the textures you've been drawn to. you want something satisfying and engaging to play with while still feeling meditative to you.

or if stim toys aren't your thing, (and even if they are!) try tactile pastimes that lead to obvious visual progress: painting, drawing, knitting, woodworking, cooking/baking!, cleaning [dishes, sheets, etc.] gardening, so on & so forth. things that prove your control & show the mark of your will wrought upon the world

the next time you find yourself wanting to pick (hopefully waylaid by an alternate hand function and/or strategic obstructions) take a mental step back. carve out that space between impulse & action. pool the feeling into your palms and examine it, tilt it around to see it catch a different light. how are you feeling right now? what's causing you to feel this way? what else could help you alleviate or accept that feeling?

if it's stress, anxiety, anger or other strong negative emotions, rest one hand over your heart, one over your lovely stomach, and take several deep yoga breaths. Long inhale through the nose, hold for a few seconds, longer exhale out. Let your throat make noise. After a few minutes, make a list of what’s worrying you and help yourself rationalize what tiny steps will help lessen their effects on you.

(Deep breaths, longer exhales and putting a hand over your heart have each individually been shown to alleviate your body's stress response, an immediate way to gift yourself some calm and a sense of safety)

if it's boredom; again, new textures and pasttimes are your friend. try going for a walk or other physical action of your choice (does not need to be long or challenging to be good for you!), listen to a podcast or new music, challenge yourself to try something new you've been wanting to explore, but can never find the time. a desire to pick can indicate you are suffering from a lack of enrichment: so yes, now is the time to try to learn the kalimba.

so, yes, it turns out i do indeed have many answers, but my initial scorn comes from any suggestion i might be above my bad habits; I've picked at my skin several times today. and that's okay. try to recognize and subvert your impulses when they happen, but also acknowledge and accept that they will happen. that's just how it goes babey. progress, not perfection.

love, luck and godspeed<33

[solsearchingnights]

i finished! I fiNISHED! I AM STIMMING SO MUCH RN if it werent late as hell i would be Loud but it is late as hell so im just gonna Ramble! it is probably not great that i read this fic and the entire time i was going "ah yes, logical" wrt the depression thoughts and self-isolation but i did and that is a thing i am Working On so like that hit hard and it was just another way to be emotionally devastated by this fic. and also i love xenbe, and the blood sport crew and i love (1/???)

Okay so basically I would kill on your behalf holy shit you are so sweet. Oh my god this is incredible to get.

The fact that other people lose their minds just like I do over this story is so wild to me.

I really wish I had like, the words and coherence to reply to like every point and thank you for every single thing, but can I just offer: I am now stimming wildly and my face hurts from smiling!! Thank you so much!! <3 <3 <3 <3

[musashi]

on paper and on principle, tone tags sound like an incredibly compassionate idea. tone is often hard to parse through text. it especially hard on neurodivergent folks, who often struggle to convey & parse tone in everyday situations. some of these folks invent indicators to make life easier on themselves and others. the origin and idea of it are rooted in compassion, and even in the context of what i am saying, they remain something entirely harmless.

cards on the table: i do not like tone tags, but i am not someone who believes that my personal preferences should be thrust on anyone else. i do not play like that, and in fact my personal disdain of tone tags is actually a natural end to that trait of mine--i certainly believe in accommodation for the disabled and neurodivergent and even just people who are 100% able-bodied and want to be treated a certain way, but i also believe that neuroclash is something we need to be aware of, and oftentimes compromises need to be reached in polite company. that's just a part of, like, being a person, human or not.

example: someone who vocal stims a certain way might trigger or overstimulate someone with those stims. neither of them are wrong, but the neuroclash is there, so they have to work together to navigate that. maybe the overstimmed one agrees to wear headphones, maybe the stimming one agrees to go into the other room for a while, but either way, someone has to compromise there if they want to live in harmony. this is just life.

all that to say, tone tags are neuroclash for me. specifically when they are used on me. i do not, at ALL, like people assuming that i need an accommodation when I have not asked for it. i do not like people seeing that i am autistic and making the assumption that i am any certain kind of autistic. "don't overhelp" is the first thing you are taught in sensitivity training when it comes to disability--when assisting someone with a disability, you defer to them on how they'd like to be helped, and you never, ever assume you know more than them, because it is wildly condescending and ableist.

but when i inform people of this boundary, and ask them to please not use tone tags when speaking to me, i am met with the same response almost every time:

"Oh, I don't use them because I think you need them, I use them for me! So that I don't come across the wrong way."

and that, to me, is the fucking heart of what it's all become. what a horrifying fucking statement.

this statement runs under the assumption that, when talking to ANYONE, this person believes that every single person they interact with will take them in the worst faith. that their conversational partner will not simply assume the best of them--that if they say something dryly, or with a certain type of punctuation, or with a certain phrasing, the person on the other side will assume they are being intentionally rude or mean. so they HAVE to tack on tone tags, to pre-emptively clarify that they are being friendly.

hello?

that's fucking INSANE?

and look, i know everyone's tired of me talking about moral / scrupulosity OCD, but i swear to god, it TERRIFIES me how much of it i see just existing on the internet. on the internet, i can SEE people's compulsions! they literally just, like, TYPE OUT their compulsions where everyone can see them! tone tags are--not to everyone, but to a HUGE group of people who probably don't even know it--fucking compulsions! if you are using tone tags because you are scared of someone "taking you the wrong way," that is a compulsion! that is not normal! normal people will not always assume the worst of you and insist you clarify! if people have done that to you, you are being mistreated, RUN AWAY!

sometimes i see it in, like, DMs too? someone doesn't message back fast enough, or maybe they fall asleep, and the compulsive one sends a barrage of follow up messages like "sorry, was that off-kilter? shit, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have said that. are you mad at me? hey, let's just forget i said that." THOSE ARE COMPULSIONS!

i see it when i'm trying to watch a damn youtube video! i click on some tier list and the youtuber launches into a tirade about how "these are just my opinions, please keep that in mind, everyone has different preferences--" THIS WILL LAST FOR A FULL MINUTE! WHY ARE YOU ASSUMING THE WORST OF YOUR AUDIENCE???? WHY DID YOU WRITE, RECORD, EDIT, AND LEAVE THIS IN?

it is not normal to talk like a PR firm is coaching you. it is not normal to live your life under the ever-present idea that you will be scrutinized. THIS IS NOT NORMAL. if you feel this way, PLEASE please please, you do not have to SEEK a moral OCD diagnosis, but at least please read up on the signs & symptoms so you can look out for it in yourself. i see it everywhere nowadays, people are SO obsessed with saying and doing all the right things at the right time, based entirely on some arbitrary standard of morality that seems completely random, and it is NOT NORMAL.

every time i see a tone tag i am haunted by this thought. it's even in the little ways people TALK to each other now. this has nothing to do with my distaste for tone tags, but my distaste does grow whenever i have this conversation. so many people say shit like "well, i'm autistic! people misunderstand me so much! i overexplain because i don't want to be misunderstood!"

they misunderstand you because THEY ARE CUNTS! WHY ARE YOU CHANGING YOUR BEHAVIOUR FOR SHITHEADS? NORMAL PEOPLE WILL ASSUME GOOD FAITH IN YOU! CATER TO THEM, NOT THE ASSHOLES??? AUGHGHGHGHGHHHHH

the most boomery, conservative-sounding take i have that i swear to god is less stupid if you unpack it, is that tone tags are a perfect microcosm of the undiagnosed moral OCD epidemic and how pervasive it is in literally EVERYTHING in online "leftist" spaces, right down to the way we talk to each other

[maybedefinitely404]

Not Your Typical 2

Genre: college AU, hurt/comfort

Pairings: romantic Demus, background Logicality, and Prinxiety

Content: autistic characters (Logan and Janus), arguments, panic attack/anxiety, ASL, talk of pretty bad ableist parenting/manipulation.

Song mentioned is Electric Love by BØRNS

Word count: 3.3k

“BABE!”

Janus’ head shot up seconds before Remus barreled into their room, clearly having run there, possibly all the way from his night class. He dropped his load of textbooks onto the floor, hopping from foot to foot.

“You have a backpack for a reason,” Janus sighed affectionately. His boyfriend shuffled the empty bag off his shoulders so it fell to the floor with his school supplies and resumed his hopping.

“Listen to this!” He held up his headphones, clearly holding himself back from just popping them on Janus’ head himself. 

“New song?”

“Just listen!”

Janus snorted but put the offered headphones on, watching as Remus restarted the music from his phone.

It began quietly, a lilting melody that was quickly underlaid with a sharp beat. He raised an eyebrow at Remus; it was catchy, but did not seem like his boyfriend’s type of music. There was a surprising lack of… screaming. Or profanity. Or yodelling . 

He had interesting taste in music. 

But Remus just bounced on his toes, nearly wiggling until an electric guitar riff made Janus jump a bit. It wasn’t necessarily a bad jump, more one of surprise, but he gave a thumbs up anyways to reassure Remus. He closed his eyes as the verse began, relaxing in his chair and shutting his brain off. 

Janus hadn’t even noticed he was tapping his hands on the arms of the chair until he peaked an eye open to see his boyfriend’s excited expression, not unlike a child on Christmas morning. 

 A bit after they’d started officially dating, Remus had accidentally discovered Janus’ once-least-favorite neurodiverse trait in himself; happy stimming. It was overly vulnerable and had gotten him teased too often when he was younger, so he had made a habit of masking the excited movement. It had only taken one date to the animal rehabilitation centre, and an hour long detour in the reptile area, for that barrier to break. But Remus had taken him for the sole reason of showing Janus the snakes, what was he supposed to do?

The first time he’d been totally natural around Remus (due to finding a green tree python, because oh my god Remus look at it!), bouncing and tucking his cheek to his shoulder and flapping his hands, his boyfriend had solemnly taken his hands, leaned far too close, and uttered something along the lines of ‘What the fuck was that and how do I make you do it again?’ Apparently he thought it was cute.

Preposterous. 

And judging by the slow rising in the song’s pitch, that was exactly what Remus was attempting to trigger. Janus could feel a smile forming against his will as the music crescendoed, and with it came a floating sensation. It felt like fire shooting up his spine, or pop rocks in his skull, an addictive rush of joy that filled his body with adrenaline, the best possible butterflies in his stomach. His hands flapped in an effort to release the energy and for now he let them, the grin now making his cheeks hurt.

All at once the beat settled back to it’s verse tempo and Janus pulled the headphones off somewhat sheepishly. 

“Hell. Yes.” Remus whispered, a matching wide smile stretching across his face. He cradled Janus’ face between his palms, as if he were something fragile, and edged forward until their noses booped, “You’re so. Goddamn. Cute.”

“Am not,” Janus forced out between his squished cheeks. It would have been much more convincing if he weren’t fighting off more happy wiggles. 

Remus snorted and pressed a peck to Janus’ lip before whirling on his heels, more or less skipping to the common area.

“Logan, I did it!” He sang grandly. He twirled around the living room with a whoop, startling a laugh out of Janus. Virgil and Roman, who must have been situated on the couch, yelled as Remus splayed across them just out of Janus’ line of vision. 

“Get off us, you oaf-”

“Jesus, Remus!”

“Oh Logaaaaan!” 

Janus leaned against the doorway of their room to watch the scene unfold. Remus finally gave in to the pushing from their roommates and rolled onto the floor with a brilliant thud and a cackle. 

“Get him off my foot!”

“He’s your brother.”

Remus snickered and promptly attached himself to Roman’s leg like a koala, digging his teeth into his shin.

“REMUS!” 

“Yeth?” He asked around his mouthful. Roman freed the leg not being eaten and, with no preamble, delivered a solid kick to his brother’s side. 

“I’ve been shot!” Remus wailed dramatically, rolling onto his back.

“I’m going to need a rabies shot!”

“I see the light-”

“Am I bleeding? Virgil, get the first aid kit!”

“Alas, the world goes dim! What an end, what an end…”

“What if they have to amputate?”

Janus’ hand could no longer muffle his laughter, and his laughing distracted Remus enough to get a dazzling smile from where he was laying half under the coffee table. The diversion seemed to remind him of why he’d come into the living room in the first place.

His face fell into a pout and he shrieked, “LOGAN!”

The door to Logan and Patton’s room flew open and the latter poked his head out with a violent shush. 

“Logan is on the phone!” 

True to his word, Logan was pacing their room behind him, stimming anxiously while he spoke into his phone in a completely neutral voice.

Virgil sat up straighter, earning a concerned look from Roman, who gave up on nursing the bite mark on his sweatpants. However, Remus was oblivious to the sudden tenseness in the air, kicking his feet onto the coffee table.

“Who is he on the phone with?” Virgil asked, slowly getting up from the couch.

Patton shut the door after a quick glance into the room. The rest of the dorm stayed silent until he’d clicked the latch into place, as if all holding their breath. Logan’s voice became just a murmur behind the wall as Patton met Virgil’s eyes nervously.

“It’s his parents,”

“WHY-” Patton shushed Virgil wildly, hands waving up a flurry. The man continued in a hushed tone but with just as much fury, “Why is he talking to his parents?”

Roman jumped up, probably to try and ease an almost-spitting Virgil but only succeeding in stepping on Remus.

“Ow!”

“Then why are you on the floor!?”

Virgil took a step toward Patton. “He hasn’t talked to them in a year-”

“I will eat your whole leg off!”

“I’d like to see you try!”

“Oh? OH!? When you wake up tomorrow with no legs, you’ll regret that!”

“Remus, just get up!”

He froze from where he’d been pushing himself up from the floor, gingerly lowering himself back down and crossing his arms. “Well, now I’m not going to.”

“Why don’t…” Janus faltered as every eye in the room settled on him, fighting his instinct to shut his mouth. They want to hear you, they want to hear you- “Why don’t we like Logan’s parents?”

Virgil and Patton answered at the same time.

“They’re assholes.”

“They’re not great p- language!”

If Janus remembered correctly, Virgil and Logan had known each other far longer than any of the others, though it wasn’t hard to surmise from Virgil’s reactions. He’d never seen him get so worked up. 

“They’re ableist, homophobic pieces of sh-”

“But!” Patton interrupted, “We probably shouldn’t say more without Logan here.”

Virgil grumbled under his breath and dropped back onto the sofa, followed by Roman, who placed an arm around his shoulders. It did nothing to placate his anger, but he did lean marginally into his boyfriend’s side.

“We don’t like them,” Remus said in a falsely bright tone as he squirmed out from where he’d been trapped. “How long does he have to talk to Tweedledee and Tweedledick?”

“Language…”

“What do they want from him?” Virgil demanded. Was it Janus’ imagination, or were his eyes shinier than they’d been a minute before?

“I don’t…” Patton glanced at the closed door, “I’m sure Logan can tell you later. I’ll tell you as soon as he’s ready to talk, okay?”

They were given one more reminder to hush, and then Patton disappeared back into their room. The group fell into silence as soon as he was gone.

Remus broke the lull with a loud knuckle crack and a, “So, American Horror Story, anyone?” 

No one complained, which Remus took as affirmation. Virgil had turned to burrow his face into Roman’s shoulder, which smartly, no one addressed. The opening credits flashed across the scene as Remus scrambled onto the loveseat, patting the spot next to him.

“Snakey, sit.”

Janus shook his hands briefly to dispel his nerves before taking the spot next to his boyfriend, leaning into his side. Every bit of contact that he initiated excited Remus to no end. He swung his arm over Janus’ shoulders and pulled him even closer and then, to Janus’ revolt, began to run his thumb lightly over his hand. 

“Yuck, no, no no no, stop,” Janus squirmed, stilling Remus’ thumb with his other hand, and nestling even further into him. 

“Oh, right. Forgot.”

“No harm done.”

They’d barely gotten through an episode of the show when the door opened behind them. Roman wasted no time shutting the TV off, and the four of them watched with rapt attention as Patton and a slightly disheveled Logan emerged. 

“I hear there was some commotion over the content of my phone call.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely!” Virgil snapped. 

“Your concern is noted but unnecessary,” Logan replied curtly, “My parents called because I was not answering their messages.”

“They’ve been messaging you?!” Virgil hissed, pulling away from Roman’s hold to stand. 

“Do they ever stop?” Logan rolled his eyes and finally released his death grip on his cell phone. He slid it into his back pocket instead. “For some reason they insist I come back home this summer.”

Him and Patton did that bizarre communicate-silently thing they did often, as Logan lifted his arm and his boyfriend attached to his side immediately. Perhaps one day, him and Remus would have that level of intuitiveness that puzzled him so. The thought made his face grow hot. A glance at Remus confirmed he hadn’t noticed, though. 

“You haven’t gone back since first year. Why now?” Roman asked. His twin hummed in agreement.

Logan turned his gaze to the floor, taking a while to answer. “I don’t understand their timing. But they are threatening to withdraw financial assistance towards my schooling if I refuse.”

The room exploded into chaos. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“That’s not fair, after all they’ve done to you-”

“Would anyone notice if they went missing?”

“Remus-”

“You can’t go back there, Lo…”

“I wasn’t planning to! But now I may not have a choice, Patton.” 

“When do you have to decide?” Roman asked, earning a glare from Virgil.

“It’s not a choice, he can’t go!”

“This is my choice, not yours, Virgil! Either way, the due date is in a week. I’ll have made my decision by then.”

Janus stiffened as the air was pulled from his lungs. “Wait, what due date?”

No one seemed to notice his question, however, as the volume in the room raised another octave. His words were lost to the level of shouting, completely invisible to everyone. He tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did. 

As easy as it would have been to just fade into the background, as per usual, the unanswered question was burrowing a hole in his chest. Janus tugged on Remus’ sleeve.

“What due date?”

Finally, Remus turned sharp eyes from the conversation to him. The slightly manic glint to them softened as soon as he saw Janus’ panicked expression, and he shifted their hands so their fingers locked. 

“S’when we gotta let the school know if you’re staying on campus for summer break. Didn’t you get the email?”

“What email?!” Janus hissed just as the arguing reached its peak. Logan had pulled himself away from (a decently distraught) Patton and was gripping his own arms with white knuckles. 

“Why do you even care?! I’m fine!” He said through grit teeth.

“You’re clearly not,” Roman retorted. Virgil had pulled up his phone and was scrolling through it with purpose, clearly trying to find something. 

“I’ll figure it out! This doesn’t have to be an event for everyone!”

“That doesn’t mean you’re-”

“Will you just drop it, Roman?!” Logan yelled, voice cracking.

Janus nearly bumped into Remus with the way he flinched. The other’s arm immediately tightened around him, a grounding pressure across his shoulders. 

“I think we’re all tired,” Patton broke the tense air with a pleading tone, “Can we come back to this tomorrow? Please?”

Logan was gone without another word, followed by Patton after a round of strained good-nights. 

---------------------------------------

As clingy a couple as they were, sleeping was a different matter. One time, one time only, they’d tried to cram onto one of their puny twin beds and that had lasted a whole half hour before they decided to never try it again. Janus needed his space if he even wanted a chance at a peaceful sleep, and Remus had the lovely habit of embodying a starfish with a caffeine problem, even when unconscious. How he fit on the tiny dorm beds by himself astounded Janus, what with how he splayed. Janus had gotten two full hits to the face before he’d leaned against the wall and pushed Remus to the floor with his feet. The man hadn’t stirred. 

The next morning Remus had suggested (without thinking) that one day they’d just get a bigger bed, and Janus had turned a bright crimson at the easy way he had discussed their future together. 

Either way, for now, they stayed in their respective beds, but at that moment, Janus was missing the distinctive feeling of being Remus’ teddy bear. His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, or perhaps a tornado. It was a flurry any which way, one that kept his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he couldn’t even see in the dark. Across the small room, he could hear Remus shifting, his breath catching every time he moved, meaning he was probably still awake as well. 

“Remus?”

“Yeah, snakey?” 

Guess he was right, then. Janus rolled towards him, even though he couldn’t make out anything in the pitch black. 

“I can’t sleep.”

There was a chuckle from across the room. “Have you even tried?” It was a valid question; it hadn’t been more than five minutes since they’d turned off the lights.

“I mean, I won’t be able to sleep.” Janus sighed. He gnawed at his fingernails as louder shuffling came from Remus’ bed.

“Why not?”

There were a few things, if he was honest. 

“Does Virgil get mad like that a lot?” Not what he’d meant to lead with, but oh well. 

“Oh,” Remus replied lightly, “He wasn’t mad. He probably sounded real pissed though. He was just worried about Logan. They grew up together and all that shit, so Virgil got like a front row seat of all the shit they did to him. Taping his hands to tables so he didn’t flap ‘em, all that.”

Janus was speechless. 

“Is that all that’s buggin’ ya?”

“Not really.” 

“Spill the tea.”

In a familiar moment of self consciousness, Janus curled his knees into his chest. He wants to hear you, he wants to hear you. The blankets pooled around his waist as he sat up, hoping the position would somehow grant him more courage.

“I started thinking about… what Logan said, and now I don’t know if I want to go home or stay on campus over summer. I didn’t know that was even an option. But it would be so much easier to not have to pack up again, and I’m just getting used to it here, but what if my parents are mad, like Logan’s?”

The fairy lights that encircled their room flickered to life, revealing Remus had stretched to reach the switch from his bed. 

“I didn’t get the email and now I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to stay on campus, what if I missed a due date? It’s my fault, I should have checked every folder and now I don’t know what to do, I…” Janus’ sentence bled into a hum from the back of his throat. The swirling flotsam of thoughts thickened, a swarm of bees being swallowed by their own honey; worries still existing, but now infinitely harder to reach and express. 

“I don’t know what to do- I… I don’t, I can’t think, my brain’s too busy-” He wrapped his fists in his blanket to keep from gripping his hair. All of the sudden, he was a coiled spring and there was nothing he could do to loosen the pressure. He needed a release, he needed to move and to be held still, his chest full of helium but his arms filled with a colony of ants under his skin, every molecule separating and floating away. Janus shoved his fists into the blankets, pushing and pushing and begging for the awful pressure to disappear. 

“Hey hey hey, take a breath, snakey. I’m right here.”

The bed dipped under Remus’ weight and his first reaction was to reach out but no, no the ants were still there, in his hands, and he bent them backwards at the wrist to kill the itch. Curl curl curl, and his fists were jammed against his jaw, pressure push stop stop-

“I’m trying, I am, I just-” He cut himself off with a sob that was more of a cough, drawing in a wheezing breath. Remus must be freaking out, he could tell, and god he wanted to stop but the cycle continued, cough and breathe in and try to squish the fucking ants.

“Do you want me to get Logan? Or Patton?”

No, no, no. Janus shook his head vigorously and pushed his fists under his legs, leaning forward to force his whole weight on the limbs. Yeah, yeah that felt better, more weight, he needed more-

“Pressure,” Janus gasped, interrupting whatever Remus had been saying but finding he couldn’t care less. He removed one hand from the safety he’d found and hit the heel of it to his chest. “I need- I need pressure, weight, I can’t-” Cough. Hum.

“Weighted blanket? Is that it?” The worry in Remus’ voice was so clear it was almost embarrassing, but Janus would never admit how much he adored it; it was a level of softness no one else was privy to. 

“No-” The weighted blanket would have been his go to before, when he was alone, but it was never enough. 

Deep pressure therapy, he remembered Logan calling it. A way to regulate the nervous system when it was going nuts, something about resetting the ‘fight or flight’ reflex. He couldn’t remember the details. But he could remember Logan’s explaining different forms of it.  

“Hug?” Janus pleaded, rocking forward onto his hands once more.

“I- What…- Are you sure?”

Janus let out a broken sound. He nodded quickly, freeing a hand to circle it over his chest, palm flat, over and over. Please. Logically, he knew there was no time pressure, but there was an undeniable feeling of ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ rushing through him. Fight or flight, maybe.

Remus opened his arms and Janus was scrambling across the gap immediately, curling sideways on his lap. The only thing he could compare it to was dumping sand on a fire as Remus’ arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to his chest and pressing his nose into Janus’ hair. Remus swayed them back and forth like he was reading Janus’ damn mind, and he finally took a deep breath. All the stress trickled from his tense muscles bit by bit, and the younger could have cried from relief. 

Janus was quickly finding it hard to keep his eyes open as Remus kept rocking them, listening to his heartbeat and following his breathing in the rare quiet of their dorm that had come to feel like home. 

“Feeling better?” Remus whispered.

Janus tensed immediately. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

And he didn’t.

Taglist:

@max-is-tired​

@joylessnightsky​

@marshymoop​

[corvidshipping]

oh my god oh my god i forgot to tell you guys

so one of my big special interests is animatronics and anything involving them (novelty stores and restaurants, halloween decor, rides, fun fairs) and there’s a very old ride called The Speelunkers’ Cave which closed in the 90s which i have a big interest in bc. animatronics, but also i LOVE the character designs like i’ve actually based some characters on the speelunker designs. so anyway i found out recently that the park that used to have the ride brought the ride back!! it was replaced briefly by a yosemite sam ride but they’ve brought back the ride!! which i never expected bc it’s such a niche ride that was never like, wildly popular or anything, even in animatronic and theme park circles it’s still pretty niche !! and i couldn’t find anything abt it on the internet so i was like rly losing it trying to find out if they actually brought back the characters and animatronics or if they were just using the name and BRO. I GOT TO GO ON IT YESTERDAY!!! I GOT TO SEE IT WITH MY OWN EYES!! the whole time in the line i was bouncing around i could barely contain myself. i legit couldn’t stop stimming i AHHHDHEHFJDNDN

[rosy-cheekx]

Hypothetically

 @aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

--

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.  

-

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

-

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing 

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

[carcasstohounds]

the worst fucking feeling is a friend stimming or something but in a way that makes it so fucking hard to think or is so wildly distracting. my friend got a stress ball/pop it thing from our math teacher and it’s so fucking annoying. the sound is awful. i can’t listen to it more than once because the sound is so like. piercing, almost? like not actually but that’s how it feels. their other favorite stim is jangling around a chain on their pants and it’s also a sound that just. fucking kills me. i can’t listen to it for more than a second or two before i have to leave the room because i can’t deal with it at all. people rocking is visually really distracting for me and it’s one of those things where i would never say anything about it because it’s necessary for them but oh god. it makes it so hard to think. i hate repetitive stuff, like sounds or visual stuff, and it’s a fucking nightmare trying to exist because of that. it’s like. i can’t say any of this. i would never say it. but good god. i want to scream.

[just-antithings]

Mod el please share all your hetalia ships and feel free to gush about your favs :)

anon i dont know how to tell you that reading this ask literally made me start flapping my arms so excitedly i smacked myself in the face and i dont usually stim that wildly and i had to take a bit to gather my thoughts so i wasnt just an incoherent yelling mess and also to do some stuff for school but shhhh

okay okay so obviously ive mentioned im very fond of usuk so ill save them for last but

im a basic bitch and i just. i love gerita okay like. theyre so cute. i do not have coherent words about them they are just. soft and silly and squishy. geritapan is also very good because im also just an absolute ho for polyships

and also god knows gerita needs a fucking braincell good lord theyre so dumb. japan can be that braincell. japan is the only reason they would get together otherwise theyd just sit there being gay and useless (affectionate)

i also like ameripan! its a funny sort of opposites attract while also kind of similar to the friendly relationship our two countries have irl! i think america can help bring out the dork in japan that he tries to hide and japan is like. america's only impulse control lmfao. ameripan good

from what ive seen of it, lietpol is cute! theyre both kind of disasters and i love the idiots to lovers ships sjfnsnf

hmmmm what else... austria and hungary are cute, natch, and i love how hungary is feisty and austria is quiet and contemplative most of the time, i love characters and ships that break the norm

prucan is cute and funny just because of how fucking different they are and also because the one time canada fucking had enough and yelled at america for three hours makes me think that if the two of them ever got started against some poor other soul it would be a Sight to Behold

but also i saw sth the other day where seychelles remembered canadas name and he was like oh!! u remembered me and im like oh no thats adorable so theyre cute too

i feel like fruks got that rivals to idiots to lovers thing going on, which is Very funny but also like. i dunno i feel like theyre just two old men who just wanna hang out with someone they know well and fine whatever i guess we can kiss too sure

in fics i read my favorite dynamic for them is just. absolutely close, thick as thieves, would willingly die for the other but they also just fucking rib each other nonstop like. romantic or platonic whatever fruk is great

uhhhh what else...

oh spamano is great. romano is just. such a little shit and spain just doesnt care sjfbsb i dont actively ship them but i feel theyre kind of in the background everywhere else and i always feel happy seeing them

*rubs hands together* hohohho boy usuk time

so theyre just. So dysfunctional. the Angst. the Drama. the level of Mutual Care they refuse to acknowledge because all it will bring is Pain and possibly more betrayal like hoooooo boy thats the good shit

they just have so much history (ha) that like. theres so much potential for relationship building there

idk man found family to enemies to begrudging friends again to "i would fucking die for you if you asked but im too scared to let you know that because i dont want either of us to get hurt again" to lovers is the good shit idk what to tell you

thank you again for enabling me anon djdnsnf it made my day!!!

[calpalirwin]

Dog Days of Summer

Summary: The family spends a day at the lake

A/N: Lake days are better than beach days and that’s that.

Word Count: 2.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

“We should go to the lake,” Vanessa said one afternoon as her and Ashton watched Mason and Bailey splash around in the pool.

“You mean the beach?” Ashton asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I mean the lake. Think it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, alright. Next Saturday we have these two?”

“Or when Finn has them. Want to invite him and Mia too. Make a day of it. Unless you planned studio time, then it can wait until we have the kids again.”

“Nah, I’ll let the guys know we’re taking a day.”

“Aw, look at you becoming a nine-to-fiver,” she teased, kissing his cheek.

“Hey!” he scoffed in mock offense. “Let’s get one thing straight: I will never be some white collar stiff.”

“I’m a white collar stiff,” she reminded him, her eyes narrowing.

“And I wasn’t finished. I can have the job I have, and still create time for my family. I might not always be great at it because I never really had a reason to stay at home a whole lot. But I’m always gonna try.”

“Alright, sap. All I said was that we should go to the lake.”

“Sounds great, baby,” he grinned.

“Papa!” Mason screeched from where he was standing on the pool’s ledge. The four year old jumped in place.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Ashton told him before hopping off the ledge he was sitting on and wading into the cool water that hit him waist deep. “Ready?” he asked, holding out his arms.

Mason took a big breath, plugging his nose before taking a wild leap towards Ashton. His body splashed into the water, but before his chin met water, Ashton already had the boy safe in his arms. “Me! Me!” Bailey cried, pointing at her big brother and making grabby hands for Ashton.

“Okay, Bai’s turn,” Ashton told them both, letting Mason go to swim back to the steps.

“Bailey,” Mason said, helping her get out of the pool and to the ledge to jump. “Bailey,” he said again before demonstrating how to hold her breath.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” Ashton coaxed, arms ready to catch her. “I gotcha.”

The one year old screamed in delight as she flew through the air towards Ashton, who like he had done with Mason, caught her before her head went under water.

~~~

“Daddy! Mimi!” both Mason and Bailey exclaimed as they ran up to Finn and Mia.

“Hey! Good week?” Finn asked, crouching to meet the onslaught of hugs.

“Yeah, good week,” Vanessa answered, giving both Finn and Mia a hug hello. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I wanna take the kids to the lake.”

“Okay… so take them to the lake.”

“With you and Mia, you dolt. As a family.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so how’s Saturday?”

“Uh…” Finn looked over at Mia, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah, Saturday works,” Mia answered with a smile. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Oooo! I’ll make t-shirts!” Finn teased with a laugh, earning him a shove from both women. “Oh, it was a joke, relax.”

“Yeah, but Finn, you have to remember. You’re not funny,” Vanessa told him, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

~~~

“Oh, my God…” Vanessa groaned as she caught sight of Finn, in a white t-shirt trimmed dark blue with “Daddy” written across the shoulders in a bold, black print. “I’m gonna drown him…”

“No, you’re not,” Ashton laughed. “Look, the kids and Mia are wearing them too.”

Vanessa groaned louder, noticing the matching shirts, each trimmed with a different color. “Drowning. Finn. Such a pity. Strong swimmer, and he died so young. None of us saw it coming. A tragedy, really.”

“What’s a tragedy?” Finn asked as Ashton and Vanessa came within earshot.

“Your death,” she grinned at him. “I thought you said the shirts were a joke.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t funny.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh, c’mon! I made you and Ashton shirts, too. We can be one big matching family!”

“I hate you…”

“No, you don’t. And you secretly love the shirts.”

“Momma!” Mason told her, pointing proudly at his shirt.

“Yeah, sweet boy! Did Daddy make you guys shirts?”

“Momma!” he nodded, handing her and Ashton theirs.

Vanessa sighed and quickly changed her shirt. “Fucker…” she growled at Finn, giving him a shove. “Using the kids against me like that.”

Finn just laughed, “Aw, c’mon Ness. It’s not that bad. I even got it made in your favorite color. Be a good sport, Momma.”

“I’m wearing it, and you’re still alive. Take the victories where you can, Finn.”

“Fuck, it’s so soft!” Ashton marveled, slipping into the fabric. “What company did you do this through? Need to tell the guys about this. Holy shit.”

“Finally! Some fuckin’ gratitude! Thank you, Ash. That’s the spirit I was looking for,” Finn said with a playful glance thrown Vanessa’s way.

~~~

“C’mon, Ness,” Finn teased. “The point of the paddleboard is to stand up on the thing.”

“No, the point is to paddle,” she corrected from where she sat cross-legged on the board, the oar resting across her lap. “And I paddled.”

Finn snorted. “C’mon, it’s easy.”

“For you, maybe, Mr. I Surf.”

“I don’t surf in still water.”

“Yeah, so this is probably easier for you.”

“I have a kid with me,” he gestured at Mason sitting further up on his own board like that made all the difference. “C’mon, Ness. Worst case is you fall in. So what? It’s just water.”

“It’s not just water. It’s you teasing me relentlessly after I faceplant.”

“Aw, I was gonna tease you relentlessly anyway.”

She splashed him with her oar.

“Oi!”

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Ashton offered.

“You know how to surf too!”

“No. Having gone surfing before, and knowing how are two totally different things.”

“You have Bailey on your board. If you go in, she’s going in with you.”

“Pass her over,” Finn said, maneuvering his board closer to Ashton’s.

“Got ‘em both?” Ashton checked as he plucked up Bailey and handed her over.

“Yeah, I got it. No excuses, Ness.”

She narrowed her eyes at the men. “Fine. But if I fall, no laughing about it. And you owe me a flip.”

“You won’t fall,” Ashton told Vanessa while Finn agreed to her demands and Mia grabbed her phone to film the whole thing.

“Just nice and easy,” Finn coached while Vanessa shifted to sit up on her knees. “Helps if you set your dominant foot first. There ya go. Steady… Now your back foot. No, further back. Right there. Alright when you’re ready, push yourself up.”

Vanessa felt her legs wobble as she hovered half-crouched over the board, her hand clutching the hand hold for dear life. With a deep breath, she let go and pushed herself upright, her arms shooting out to her sides. “Hey! You did it!” Ashton whooped. “See? I said you wouldn’t fall.”

“Oh, I hate this! This sucks so much!” She shakily moved to sit back down on the board. “That sucked.”

“Why did it suck?” Finn asked.

“Because my balance is god awful.”

“But you did it anyway, even though you’re not good at it. Good job, Ness. Proud of ya. Did you see Momma, guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, do it anyway. Great teaching lesson for the kids. Leading by example. You’re still an ass for encouraging their mother to eat shit.”

“How is our believing in your ability to stand upright encouraging you to eat shit?”

“No, Ashton believed in me. What you did was peer pressure.”

“And that’s why he’s my fiance, and you’re my ex,” Finn mocked in a high-pitched tone. “Yeah, yeah. Ash, you’re up.”

Ashton took less time to get his footing before standing up, his arms held out to help him balance. “Aw, this ain’t so ba- whoa!” The man wobbled wildly before steadying himself. “Shit…”

“See? It’s a lot harder than it looks!”

“Yeah, and this calm water shit actually doesn’t help at all. Actually makes falling off feel a whole lot more embarrassing.”

Vanessa cupped her hands around her mouth, hollering at Finn, “Do a flip!”

“Alright, alright. Ness, take Bailey. Ash, you get Mase. Front flip or back flip?”

“Whichever one is easier,” Vanessa said, pointing over at Finn. “Watch Daddy, guys.”

Finn took a deep breath before flipping himself into the water, landing with a big splash that made the kids erupt in giggles. When Finn’s head popped back to the surface with a “Ta-da!” Vanessa scoffed, “You call that a flip?”

Finn splashed water up at her. “Yeah, like you could do better.”

“Five bucks says I can.”

“Ten says you’re wrong,” he retorted as he pulled himself back up on his board.

“Easiest money I’ll ever make. Here.” She passed him Bailey. “Now,” she continued, standing up with a lot more ease and stability than her first attempt. “Mia, make sure you get this on film. Finn, you watching? This is how you do a flip.” With a grace even Finn didn’t know she possessed, Vanessa launched herself into a seamless backflip, hitting the water feet first.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Finn sputtered, when Vanessa came up for air with a shit-eating grin. He pointed frantically at Ashton. “Did you know she could do that?!”

Ashton’s wide-eyed and slacked jaw was enough of an answer. “N-no. I- Baby, that was awesome!”

“HOW?! When the FUCK did you learn to do that?!” Finn continued to stammer.

“I never told ya I was a cheerleader?” she asked with a grin.

“Cheerleading?!” both men screeched in disbelief. “No,” Finn shook his head. “I know you. You weren’t a cheerleader. No way. You’re lying.”

“You know college and adult me, Finn. Contrary to popular belief, I had a life before I met ya.”

“You were a cheerleader?” Ashton asked, finally closing his mouth.

“Mhm, and I can prove it,” she nodded. “What’s up, sweet boy?” she asked Mason who was stimming like crazy from where he was still sitting on Ashton’s board.

“Momma!” he shrieked, pointing at the water and flapping his arms. I jump too?

“C’mon.” She waved her hand for him to jump in the water.

“Papa,” Mason stilled, looking over at Ashton, and pointing at the water again.

“You wanna jump to me?”

Mason nodded.

“Okay. But you gotta get on Daddy’s board.”

“C’mere, Mase,” Finn beckoned. “I’ll help you stand.”

While Ashton got into the water, Finn helped Mason stand up, hands hovering close in case Mason started to lose his balance. “Alright, bud, whenever you’re ready.”

Mason flung himself towards Ashton, who despite treading water, managed to snag Mason before the little boy’s head went under.

“Me! Me!” Bailey chanted, her little fists banging on the board.

“Alright, Bailey-boo,” Finn said, helping her stand up. “Jump to Papa. Ready? One, two, three!”

“Bailey!” Mason cheered as his sister joined him in the water. “Daddy! Mimi! Momma!” He waved his hands crazily. Get in with us!

“‘Ump! ‘Ump!” Bailey encouraged, patting the surface of the water gently.

Mason mimicked Bailey’s movements, nodding his head in excitement. Safe, see? Only water. Jump!

“Three,” Finn started counting down as him, Mia, and Vanessa climbed slowly to their feet.

“Two…” Mia said shakily, having been hiding happily behind the camera up until now.

“Three!” Vanessa decided and all three adults joined Ashton and the kids in the water.

~~~

“Oh, they’re gonna sleep good tonight,” Mia mentioned in a low whisper, jerking her chin towards Mason and Bailey who were curled up together on the blanket in the shade.

“That, or just a really good nap that keeps them up all night,” Vanessa chuckled.

Finn flashed a smile, “I don't see how this is a problem.”

“Oh, I’m not above coming around your place if they can’t sleep tonight,” Vanessa told him, before turning her attention to Mia. “Can you send me all the pictures and videos you took?”

“Already did.”

“Lifesaver!” Vanessa clutched affectionately at her chest before shooting a glare at Finn, “Don’t fuck this up.”

“Hey!” Finn glowered back in full offense. “I’m a great boyfriend, thank you!”

“You were alright I guess. I mean, I still talk to you and stuff.”

“You say the sweetest things,” he deadpanned with a look over at Ashton. “A real keeper, this one.”

“Can’t wait to marry her,” Ashton said sincerely.

“Yeah, how is all of that going by the way?” Mia asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Way smoother than I imagined. I mean, we’re not doing much. Just a small ceremony and party with friends and whatnot.”

“Your dad walking you down the aisle?” Finn asked.

Vanessa scoffed at the very idea. “God no. I haven’t talked to them since Mason’s third birthday. Toxic is toxic right? Even if they are blood.”

Finn smiled proudly, glad that Vanessa was finally sticking to her guns and not giving in to her family’s shit anymore. “So, who’s giving you away? The kids?”

Her face flushed as she looked anywhere that wasn’t Finn, locking eyes with Ashton who nodded encouragingly. “Was hoping you would actually. Given everything and whatnot.”

Finn swallowed thickly. “Be honored to.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’m really happy for you, you know that?”

“I’m really happy for you, too. We did pretty alright for ourselves, huh?”

“We sure did.”

__

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[maiaphaelsource]

Maiaphael cuddling inside a blanket fort they made under warm blankets while they watch a movie and eat some snacks? Thoughts? Also thank you for making this blog! :') i love they! and I also love u lots for making this archive blog for them.

a fantastic concept. thank you for this ask (and i love you too!)

god okay so many thoughts. first of all, blanket fort! it's the kind of silly thing you dont expect them to do because they're both so- serious, i suppose. but they kinda need it because as a vampire Raphael is always cold and as a werewolf Maia is always warm. so they just get a thousand pillows, make a huge comfy bedding on the floor, and get blankets. Raphael is all wrapped up like a burrito with blankets over & under him and Maia has one (1) tip of the biggest one over her so she can be close to him. and then of course she lies over his chest and hugs him and it's so great and warm. he loves petting her head (gentle little squeezes over her curls so he doesn't hurt her and can still stroke her scalp, and it feels so good) as well, so they're just very comfy as they watch the movie

movies! i think Raphael is secretly a nerd. I mean, come on, he was there when most Nerd Classics™ aired and he needed a distraction haha I'm fine and if anything Magnus would probably take him to watch them. there's no way he doesn't have a soft spot for the classics. he probably hates the more recent stuff, it's all stiff special effects porn with bad writing in his opinion (and he is right), but he can watch and rewatch most classics and/or indie/fanmade/generally outside of the commercial circles sci-fi stuff. also reading sci-fi! he loves it

and canonically so does maia, so when she finds out about that? she's delighted. immediately she wants to watch all of his favorites with him with full commentary. "I'll make popcorn!" and she's smiling so bright and so excited, how can he say no to her?

so he talks very softly, "i remember when this scene aired, we were all so shocked at the plot twist", "oh, this used to be my favorite character, now i think i like the other better", etc. it feels a little weird to be talking so much during a movie, but maia likes to listen and he hadnt realized before how much of himself and of his past lies in his opinions of the shows. and it's nice

and look they both have a lot of thoughts over that stuff, because- well, they're both queer poc, they are more prone to engaging in media in a more creative and re-appropriating way. so they share their headcanons, lore ideas, opinions, internal meta. they both have amazing ideas and thoughts in completely different ways, and they're so excited over how the other can bring in fresh, interesting, well thought out ideas they would never have themselves. they end up excitedly discussing the media in question for hours on end, both smiling softly, happy to share. and again- there's so much of themselves in all of their ideas/headcanons/meta, it feels like something very intimate to be sharing them (and it is)

or documentaries! Maia loves documentaries, i am sure of it. not just on the obvious topic of marine biology (although she does have. a huge amount of them, both in DVD and downloaded on her laptop, hell, even VHS. catch her getting all sorts of vintage documentaries and books on sea life, she just has it all) but just in general? she likes history and sociology and just gaining knowledge as a whole, she's smart and curious and no topic is too trivial or useless. she'll watch anything from ancient Egypt to sociologic analyses of the furry community, as well as funny ones like the fyre festival documentary. oh, and mockumentaries! she absolutely loves those

Raphael never was a documentary guy, but with Maia, he is. first, because he also loves to learn. second, because he loves how enraptured she gets, how her eyes shine and she gets excited and even gasps when there's something particularly interesting she didn't know about. third, because with Maia he can stim as much as he wants, so that helps him pay attention

and she's just so happy she can share that stuff with him. also, they have a blast watching the fyre festival documentary. the incompetency is so off the charts. and they run a restaurant, so they have every right to make fun of them

and food! honestly, i think they just have popcorn. they already cook and work with food all day long so they want something easy to make and nice (although Raphael refuses to make microwaved popcorn. but he enjoys doing it on the pan so Maia doesn't really complain. also, it is better). and Raphael likes the texture, and they just have the bowl on their laps and aaaaa soft

and sometimes sweets! maia loves sweets so Raphael gets her those, usually fancy ones from bakeries or that he made himself, since she can't have any chocolate. he isn't a huge fan of super sweet things himself, but he loves that she loves it, and every time he brings her some she smiles so wildly and eats it with so much, like, pleasure? clearly lost in it, all melting and moany and "hmmm it's so good" and it's the best compliment ever. he can't stop smiling at her :')

okay i think that's all my thoughts but aaa thank you so much for this ask i loved answering it!

[snowstories]

@dooplissss about your reply (if its not too much trouble, could you write some suggestions for creators on how to address/write characters with psychosis/schizophrenia? I now know what to avoid, just not what to aim for) on this post; I purposefully didn’t give specific advice on how to write schizo-spec/psychotic characters because I don’t really feel qualified to do so. I’m not schizophrenic, I do not have a schizo-spec/psychotic disorder diagnosis, and I haven’t had hallucinations/delusions for about eight years now (one or two notable times exempt), and as a result I’m not actively involved in the psychotic/schizo-spec community (idk how welcome I am, if welcome at all, and I don’t really have the spoons to research it much), so I absolutely do not claim to be an expert on the matter of writing schizo-spec/psychotic characters. It’s very possible (and in fact likely) that my information on this matter is not entirely accurate and that I still have internalized ableism on this front.

I’m gonna list some things that I would have personally loved to see in a character when I was experiencing psychosis, but if you’re planning on writing a psychotic/schizo-spec character, I strongly encourage you to hit up blogs more involved in the schizo-spec/psychotic community with your questions and to do more research on the topic in general. The following list is more of a list of things that would’ve really helped me to read while I was a kid experiencing psychosis, than a list of Objective Writing Advice™ that I’d be able to offer you if you asked the same question about autism. It’s entirely personal and subjective.

With that disclaimer out of the way, here’s some thing I would/would’ve liked to see in a character with psychosis:

A character who experiences psychosis living a happy life. This one sounds so basic, and yet I’m literally getting tears in my eyes just thinking about it. Psychotic/schizo-spec characters are always portrayed as eternally suffering (if they’re not outright dangerous, obviously), and while psychosis can absolutely suck and portraying this isn’t wrong per se, knowing that there is a future for people like me would’ve helped me a LOT as a kid. Just like. Give psychotic people a cute pet, or a hobby that they get immense joy out of, or a job they love, or friends/family who love and support them, or all of the above! I cannot stress enough how much I want to see this.

Hallucinations that aren’t there because of some Thematically Appropriate Reason, but just because hallucinations exist. Literally just hallucinations that don’t have any Deeper Meaning and don’t necessarily relate back to the character’s mental health state or something. Just basic hallucinations.

Note: it’s definitely possible for hallucinations to be connected to someone’s state of mind, and that has happened to me a couple times, but it’s such a massive trope in media that I’m sick and tired of it, especially since it’s always treated like a gimmick more than anything else.

Related: hallucinations that aren’t necessarily scary, just wildly annoying. Honestly the majority of my hallucinations probably weren’t that scary? There were definitely some that were terrifying, don’t get me wrong, but for the most part, they were just kinda there, annoying me. Like the voices in my head who constantly argued over petty shit. Was that scary? Not beyond the realization that there are voices in my head, no. Was it annoying? Oh god yes. 

Reality checking. Please show your character reality checking. Reality checking wasn’t just a lifesaver for me, it was an absolute necessity to get through daily life. I never had any kind of formal training in reality checking, so idk if my methods would’ve been therapist approved, but I used a lot of grounding methods such as stimming with a comfort object, touching things in general, and talking to other people (sometimes trying to get them to confirm that the Thing wasn’t there, if I was feeling brave enough). 

Also (and you should definitely check this with other people before going ahead and writing it), my reality checking methods were tailored to fit my needs. My hallucinations were pretty much always based on the supernatural and/or religion, meaning that they were generally easy to distinguish from reality (unless I was in a delusion that was connected to/reinforced them), so to reality check I would often use logic like ‘does x exist in real life?’ and if the answer was ‘no’, then it was a hallucination. This method does not work if I’m in a delusion, obviously, and it wouldn’t work for hallucinations that could be real. I also touched things a lot to remind myself of what reality is when I was experiencing hallucinations, because my hallucinations were never tactile (despite tactile hallucinations being among the most common). So like. What I’m getting at is maybe consider how your character’s hallucinations manifest, and what type of reality checking would work best for them.

Anti-psychotic meds that actually work, or at least are not actively harmful. While meds can definitely be harmful, useless, have terrible side effects, or all of the above, meds meant to improve your mental health tend to be very demonized in media, with a lot of media portraying them as things that will make you change your entire personality and/or go into a catatonic state. And this is absolutely possible (I know people this has happened to), but this portrayal has become oversaturated in the market, imo, and it was one of the primary reasons I postponed asking for meds for literal years (I eventually requested them, but the hallucinations I had asked them for stopped before they got prescribed (although the psychiatrist had granted my request and was looking into possibilities, the hallucinations I’d asked them for stopped before they made any decisions, and that was my last real psychotic episode, so I never did end up getting them). So I’d just like to see a portrayal of anti-psychotic meds where, even though they’re not a miracle cure and may suck on some levels, they do actually help as well. 

A character who experiences psychosis in a story that’s not about their psychosis. Give me a high fantasy story with a schizophrenic protag, or a romcom with a schizoaffective protag, or a magical girl show with a girl who experiences psychosis as the protag, or literally anything among those lines. Don’t always make it About The Psychosis.

You’ll also notice that all of my character wishes in the above point are protagonists. This is because I want schizo-spec protagonists. Not a one off side character in a Very Special Episode, not little siblings or children who function as character motivations for the protag rather than characters in their own right, not creepy villains, not comic relief sidekicks whose psychosis is ~hilarious~, protagonists who are heroes. 

Show the character with loved ones who know about the psychosis and who are aware of how to deal with it when the character starts experiencing delusions/un-ignorable hallucinations. Not that I’d know what the correct way to act in those situations would be (lord knows nobody ever told me or helped me through any of that lmao), but showing loved ones aware of psychosis can a) help people recognize appropriate ways to act in these situations and b) shows people who experience psyshosis that there’ll still be people who love them. 

Honestly? Write a character who can see supernatural things. Now take away the presence of those supernatural things, and keep the way everybody treats them, the way they feel isolated and scared, and the arc where they find friends and people who understand them, and you’ve got a 99% chance of having at least a semi-decent psychotic character imo.

Example: the anime Natsume Yuujinchou is about Natsume Takashi, a teenager who has seen youkai for as long as he remembers. As a result, he’s been consistently bullied because he’s weird for screaming at nothing, and passed around from relative to relative because nobody wants to deal with him and the ‘fits’ that he supposedly throws to get ‘attention’. One of the main themes of the show is him finding friends and family who love him, even though they might not understand him and his strange behaviour remains. The way the show presents Natsume’s childhood is honestly painfully relatable, and the way it presents him finding new friends not just in those who see/believe in youkai, but also those who don’t know what’s up with him and just take the fact that he sometimes yells at nothing or sees things that aren’t there for granted.

It’s obviously not a perfect 1:1 narrative or anything, but it’s genuinely miles above anything else I’ve ever read with deliberate psychotic characters, and it’s really funny to me that people can understand that being treated like a crazy person who deliberately causes people harm for their own gain/entertainment is shitty when it happens to ‘normal’ people, but can’t parse it when it happens to psychotic people. And by funny I mean ‘fucking infuriating’.

What I’m getting at in these points is this: be sympathetic towards your psychotic characters. Don’t give people a pass for treating them like shit just because they’re psychotic. If they’re isolated/bullied/abused, don’t make it seem like it’s their fault because they’re ‘difficult to deal with’. Don’t treat people who are their friends/family like saints for ‘putting up with them’. Literally just write psychotic characters like people worthy of compassion I don’t get why this is so hard. 

that’s all I can come up with on the fly, and they center around delusions/hallucinations heavily because those were the primary symptoms for me, but remember that delusions/hallucinations are not the only things that can pop up with schizo-spec/psychotic disorders, and in fact, the diagnostic criteria for many schizo-spec/psychotic disorders show that delusions/hallucinations aren’t even necessary for a diagnosis, as long as other symptoms like disorganized speech, negative symptoms, and/or ‘grossly disorganized or catatonic behaviour’ are present. 

also, it could very well be that I’m reading too deep into this, but the wording in your reply (”I now know what to avoid”) kind of lead me to believe that my post might’ve been the first time you’ve encountered the subject of proper representation of psychosis in media, in which case, you are DEFINITELY going to want to do more research on what to avoid. my post didn’t even scratch the surface of the negative stereotypes around psychosis in media.

also sorry for doing the reply like this, it’s... Long and I didn’t want to do this in the comments of the original post.

[dog-teeth]

oh my god i'm so happy for you hand flapping is so GOOD! I used to stop myself from doing it but a couple years ago I decided I might as well and !! it's very good. sometimes you can't express everything out loud but waving your hands/arms/entire body wildly?? Perfect

its the BEST i used to feel really bad about doing it but now im confident enough to do it again and its all thanks to my amazing autistic/adhd mutuals on here who reblog positivity posts n information about stimming

[dovand]

adhd dean gives me life srsly!!!!

cars and movies and rock music are special interests for him!!! and he likes rock esp when you turn it up and can feel the drums and he bounces along to the beat bc he can FEEL it and its grounding him !! !! burgers and pies and such are safe foods!!!!! and when cas says something nice he’s fluttering happy and when they cuddle he has to stop himself from stimming so wildly he breaks someones teeth and when he PROPOSES oh my god when he proposes hes practicually THRUMMING with it and he SPEEDS through his little speech and hes grinning the whole time and when cas says yes (because of course he says yes, theyre so in love and he doesnt hesitate for a moment) dean SQUEALS and at first hes a little embarrassed but then he sees how cas is smiling at him and hes just so fucking happy to be there ..>!>!!!

and he starts stimming more openly!!! at the dinner table and sam and eileen are signing rapidfire and grinning, jack is talking happily about whatever caught his interest, cas has his hand on dean’s thigh and is listening intently to jack, and dean looks around and he sees a little family. he sees a family theyve worked so hard to keep and he flickers his fingers against the tablecloth and cas sees and smiles at him and deans heart is so FULL

im gonna cry !!!! i love them sm

when dean sees things that make him so happy he just !!!!!! does the little hand wavey thing !!!! because he can’t contain his emotions into some small reaction !!! but when he was young, john would side-eye him for it !!!! and so dean would suppress it...but when he’s older, and cas invites him for a western night in the dean cave, and he sees the tv screen and the little cowboy decorations everywhere, he can’t hold back !!! he bounces his hands up and down and grins so big and then, when he remembers his audience, he nearly stops, but cas just smiles at him and then at his hands and says, “im so glad you like it” and dean just !!!! swells with joy !!!!!

[millenniumkid-blog]

( *claps* atem/yami not being autistic on his own but since he winds up sharing a body/soul/mind with yugi he picks up on some of yugi’s traits hes here like “oh my god why am i crazy fixated on duel monsters why is it all i can think about why is it keeping me up at night why do i convert all regular logic into duel monsters logic why is it all i wanna think or talk about” he gets really excited once and starts stimming like shaking his hands really wildly and hes just like oh my god whats happening to me. he touches sand and hes like WHAT THE FUYCK THIS IS THE WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD I HATE TEXTURES. )