#verbal crash

[cabin-complex-jon]

I have decided to use our AAC today to encourage us to slow down, since I have a feeling our mood is good but our spoons are low. It’s not easy, but probably worth it

Since I am tagging this: I am an alter who uses AAC part time. I'm open to interaction and socializing on this post :)

[ID: A drawing of Jon happily typing on a tablet next to a computer and listening to music. /End ID]

[shsl-leader]

am i allowed to use aac/communication cards if i have verbal crashes /gen

sometimes its not impossible for me to speak but its difficult and im tired. i'm not semiverbal, just drained.

[fan-fucking-tasty]

nothing like a nice walk with good music to make me verbal crash ig? only ever really verbal crashed for bad reasons.

[geothebio]

me and my mom agreeing that we both have undiagnosed autism

[journey-to-the-attic]

idk exactly how old ik is in the ddvd au but i had the thought: you know how most babies' first words are 'ma' or similar. mammon hears ik making the noise and he INSISTS that her first word must therefore have been HIS name, cementing his place as BEST uncle forever

then asmo's like "nonono, she could have been going asMO" and then a fistfight ensues

i think in my head, ik's nearly two when zhao first appears in the devildom, but she's at this weird developmental stage where she's simultaneously extremely dependent on her father, but also weirdly independent for certain aspects of her routine. she can walk, and will toddle off to do her own mysterious business for some periods of time, but most of the time she prefers to have her dad carry her around everywhere

she's also mostly non-verbal for the first few months - she mostly communicates by patting her dad's arm and then pointing at things - but she has spoken, so she's said "爸爸" (baba) before, but she only ever says it aloud in moments of extreme distress

but she would eventually start saying other words too, and it feels just as monumental as first words would to the demons, so i could totally see the mammon vs asmo debate happening then

but also, funny scenario: i imagine ik starts picking up words super fast once she DOES start speaking clearly, so while asmo and mammon are arguing over who she was addressing, satan sneaks over and gets her to say the clearest "uncle satan" they've ever heard

rip satan... it was all worth it though!

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

-> The Bartons, alcoholism, and violence

Harold Barton verbally abusive to Barney

Clint and Barney as children

The Barton boys parents died in a car crash as a result of Harold's drinking

Barney Barton after beating Clint and almost killing him (Hawkeye: Blindspot)

Harold Barton verbally abusive to Clint

Clint telling Barney while he's standing over him after beating him that "Dad would be proud" (observation that Barney is mirroring what their father use to do)

Edith Barton being taken to go with Harold

Harold Barton, drink in hand, screaming at his son

Harold Barton drinking

Do not reblog unless you are me

[blackholemojis]

not sure if u have before (i looked and couldn't find anyway; might just be my searches ^_^), could u make a few emotes for endearing nicknames in french/german ? i've been a lil' more nv around my partner at times, but i'd still wanna call him ones like "mon ange (my angel in french)", "mon bien-aimé (my beloved in french)", and "mein liebling(my darling in german)"

i understand if it's a lot to ask ! if you wanna skip over this and get to others, u can ^_^ take all the time u need, and i hope u have a lovely day <3

(also i was gonna come off anon but was too nervous- this is my 2nd req ! i requested ocd emotes back in the day, and i still use 'em <3 tyvm again for those !!)

Lol don’t worry about multiple requests, as long as you’re not being ridiculous about it (like requesting a dozen of more niche word emojis) it’s not a problem :)

[ID: the following written in purple bubble letters: 1) mon ange, 2) mon bien-aimé, 3) mein liebling. /End ID]

[autisticlio]

From someone who is autistic and has adhd, I don't mind people thinking the characters are either of those. Hell, I'd be a hypocrite considering I think any character I like is autistic. Just think it's kinda silly that the Death Battle team did not know what else to put for stats regarding a theoretical fight between them, so they went on Webmd and diagnosed them despite neither really mattering in context.

[toastsnaffler]

wellll everything could be worse.. at least we're not stranded in the arctic for years on end with lead poisoning and a Beast out to get us 😌

[thatdude-noah]

The thing about not wanting all your aro thoughts to be negative is so real

Because I do LIKE being aro it's nice to have a reason for the way i am

But there is a reason people say what makes us human is our ability to love

Everyone and yourself knowing you love wrong compared to everyone else will never be easy or fully positive and I have to still work every day to be ok with it

i am such an unapologetically queer person and i love that about myself. being aro is included in my queer identity, and i just. love being queer. so fully. i do. and being queer is never easy, but there is always some joy to find in it.

but being aro is such a specific type of queer struggle that is so hard to get past sometimes. being seen and understood as so fundamentally different from everybody around you. and like. being aromantic has such a connotation of lacking something. i don't have this basic thing that everybody else around me seems to have and seems to flaunt.

i know it's not all bad. and i know all queer identities have struggles. but the aro struggle seems to be tugging at my heart right now and i don't know if i'll ever fully get over it.

[castielsupernatural]

the hilarity of continuously receiving phone calls starting with “i’m contacting you regarding a car accident you were involved in riding an uber on november 5th”

[bobbie-robron]

Well, when you kept knocking me back I thought… maybe if I changed my name to Roberta then I might stand a better chance. (Part 2)

In part two of the episode, Robert and Elaine arrive at their destination for the picnic. Unfortunately, Robert opens his mouth and what comes out of it isn’t to Elaine’s taste. Elaine walks off but Robert follows in the car. Robert convinces Elaine to get in the car but they end up in a crash when eyes are taken off the road. A frantic Robert calls Andy then idiot Sugden rises as he moves Elaine into the driver’s seat before the ambulance arrives. Meanwhile, Ali and Katie are at Ollie’s leaving do and believe the twosome are having a grand time. Robert begs Andy to keep quiet. Gifs will be posted separately.

29-Sep-2003

[azurune]

Sigh I really hope that’s the end of it. I just want to be able to post on here without worrying about my ex. Apologies to friends that may have to witness the tags below

[legofemme]

I want to make a plane dragon but i know nothing abt planes . Can someone recc me a plane they think is cute

[prokopetz]

On the one hand, it's true that the way Dungeons & Dragons defines terms like "sorcerer" and "warlock" and "wizard" is really only relevant to Dungeons & Dragons and its associated media – indeed, how these terms are used isn't even consistent between editions of D&D! – and trying to apply them in other contexts is rarely productive.

On the other hand, it's not true that these sorts of fine-grained taxonomies of types of magic are strictly a D&D-ism and never occur elsewhere. That folks make this argument is typically a symptom of being unfamiliar with Dungeons & Dragons' source material. D&D's main inspirations are American literary sword and sorcery fantasy spanning roughly the 1930s through the early 1980s, and fine-grained taxonomies of magic users absolutely do appear in these sources; they just aren't anything like as consistent as the folks who try to cram everything into the sorcerer/warlock/wizard model would prefer.

For example, in Lyndon Hardy's "Five Magics" series, the five types of magical practitioners are:

Alchemists: Drawing forth the hidden virtues of common materials to craft magic potions; limited by the fact that the outcomes of their formulas are partially random.

Magicians: Crafting enchanted items through complex manufacturing procedures; limited by the fact that each step in the procedure must be performed perfectly with no margin for error.

Sorcerers: Speaking verbal formulas to basically hack other people's minds, permitting illusion-craft and mind control; limited by the fact that the exercise of their art eventually kills them.

Thaumaturges: Shaping matter by manipulating miniature models; limited by the need to draw on outside sources like fires or flywheels to make up the resulting kinetic energy deficit.

Wizards: Summoning and binding demons from other dimensions; limited by the fact that the binding ritual exposes them to mental domination by the summoned demon if their will is weak.

"Warlock", meanwhile, isn't a type of practitioner, but does appear as pejorative term for a wizard who's lost a contest of wills with one of their own summoned demons.

Conversely, Lawrence Watt-Evans' "Legends of Ethshar" series includes such types of magic-users as:

Sorcerers: Channelling power through metal talismans to produce fixed effects; in the time of the novels, talisman-craft is largely a lost art, and most sorcerers use found or inherited talismans.

Theurges: Summoning gods; the setting's gods have no interest in human worship, but are bound not to interfere in the mortal world unless summoned, and are thus amenable to cutting deals.

Warlocks: Wielding X-Men style psychokinesis by virtue of their attunement to the telepathic whispers emanating from the wreckage of a crashed alien starship. (They're the edgy ones!)

Witches: Producing improvisational effects mostly related to healing, telepathy, precognition, and minor telekinesis by drawing on their own internal energy.

Wizards: Drawing down the infinite power of Chaos and shaping it with complex rituals. Basically D&D wizards, albeit with a much greater propensity for exploding.

You'll note that both taxonomies include something called a "sorcerer", something called a "warlock", and something called a "wizard", but what those terms mean in their respective contexts agrees neither with the Dungeons & Dragons definitions, nor with each other.

(Admittedly, these examples are from the 1980s, and are thus not free of D&D's influence; I picked them because they both happened to use all three of the terms in question in ways that are at odds with how D&D uses them. You can find similar taxonomies of magic use in earlier works, but I would have had to use many more examples to offer multiple competing definitions of each of "sorcerer", "warlock" and "wizard", and this post is already long enough!)

So basically what I'm saying is giving people a hard time about using these terms "wrong" – particularly if your objection is that they're not using them in a way that's congruent with however D&D's flavour of the week uses them – makes you a dick, but simply having this sort of taxonomy has a rich history within the genre. Wizard phylogeny is a time-honoured tradition!

[mostly-imagines]

I Missed My Funeral

jason todd x reader

aka you learn what happened to jason

warnings: detailed discussion of how jason died, this is not so happy but i can promise you my jason angst will always have comfort

You wonder if your nightmares are accurate.

Your brain is probably just conjuring up every worst case scenario it can fathom, but maybe there’s truth to one of them. You hope not.

It’s something you haven’t been able to keep out of your mind these past few weeks, and everything seems to remind you of it. When you see his guns, when you’re using a knife to cut up dinner, when you see a car crash on the news, or even when you walk past a fucking pharmacy. The thoughts are everywhere, all the time.

Even as you lay in bed, head on his chest, your mind keeps on drifting where you wish it wouldn’t.

You know he died. He never said it out loud, but you’d seen his autopsy scar plenty of times. You’d always refrained from asking questions, he seemed nervous enough the first handful of times he was around you with his shirt off. Enough time has passed that he’s comfortable being shirtless around you, even okay when you touch his chest. The decrease in boundaries has granted you more solace in one another, but it’s also caused your mind to go wild with possibilities. 

Even now, as you lie against his bare chest, you can’t keep your cat-killing thoughts away.

“You’re being quiet,” He comments, not accusatory, just factual. 

You snap out of reverie, “Sorry, I—”

His hand soothes up and down your arm without pause, “Don’t be sorry. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you look down, thinking over your words. “What…what happened to you?” You ask quietly.

He goes still. 

You immediately regret bringing it up, sitting up from his chest to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, I don’t need to—”

He shakes his head. The slightest response from him shuts you right up. “No, it’s…it’s okay. Probably should’ve said something by now.”

He nudges your head back down to his chest and you oblige, trying to relax your body against him again. It’s a difficult thing to talk yourself into when his isn’t any more relaxed.

“I…you know I used to be Robin?” His voice is low, hesitant.

You nod.

“Well…I made a mistake—a few mistakes. I wasn’t as careful as I should’ve been and I walked into a trap.”

You’re sure he’s placing more blame on himself than he should, though you don’t know enough to fight him on it yet. You wrap your hand around his forearm that drapes across your chest, a silent affirmation that you’re here with nothing but support and reassurance.

His breath stutters, “The, uh…the Joker set me up and…well, he killed me.”

You don’t want to ask how. You don’t want to know how. But you feel like you have to and it’s selfish and you know that but you can’t leave just it at that. 

It’s a barely audible whisper. You’re not even sure Jason could fully hear the word, but he understands the intent anyway.

His next exhale is shaky, “Yeah, um, that’s the rough part.”

Your head twitches. “That’s the rough part?” You breathe out, scared to hear what’s next.

You can’t see from this angle, but Jason’s eyes are welling over, trying desperately not to let tears fall. It takes him a moment to prepare himself to verbalize the next part. 

“He…he be—” he stops himself. “…He hit me with a crowbar. A lot.”

Oh.

You can physically feel your chest sink.

That’s worse than all the horrifying scenarios you’d built up in your head. That’s…he was beaten to death. For trying to help people. 

You don’t want to leave him in the silence for too long, so you ask the only thing you can think to. 

“How old were you?” 

He drops his head to press his mouth against your head, like he’s trying to ground himself. “Fifteen,” He murmurs into your hair.

Oh.  

You flip over so you’re chest to chest with him and hold him tight. “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting you to say that. The very very few times he’s had anything even remotely relating to this conversation, the revelation is always met by silence. Or worse.

But you’re sorry. No one’s ever said that to him before. About anything, but especially this. What does sorry even mean in this context? You didn’t do anything, are you sorry for asking? Do you…do you feel bad for him?

He swallows hard, “You’re sorry?”

“Yeah,” You say, furrowing your brow. “You’re a good person, Jay. You’re a really good person and…you didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to you. Especially that. I hate that you’ve been through so much and I’m sorry.”

He refuses to blink but the tears are threatening to win anyways with nowhere else to go. 

He shakes his head weakly, “It was my own fault.” 

“Jason,” you say seriously. “It was not your fault. You were trying to help someone, weren’t you?”

It takes him a moment to respond to that. “I—yeah. Yes. My mom. My birth mom.” He takes a breath, “He, uh, he was blackmailing her and I tried to help her—I tried. But she gave me up to try and save herself…it didn’t matter in the end.”

While you didn’t know about the history with his birth mom, you’d been sure he’d died helping someone. That’s just who he is—whether he knows it or not.

“There was a bomb and it…” He lets that bit trail off. “I don’t remember the explosion. I think I passed out before it happened.”

He doesn’t remember the explosion. But…

He does remember the other part.

You have to drop your head into his neck so that he doesn’t see the way your eyes well up. 

“Please know you’re a good person. Please,” you plead. “You’re the best person I know.”

“But…” his breath comes out shaky, “No one…no one did anything.” 

The tears fall now, and in spite of the fact that he hasn’t let himself cry in front of anyone since he was ten, he doesn’t feel the usual burning impulse to hide. Not from you.

His voice breaks as he says, “He killed me and he didn’t…”

You sit up straight again and hold his face in your hands, looking him in the eye. “That’s not your fault. Whatever Bruce did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with you. It’s all about him.”

You gently wipe his tears with your thumb as the weight of his head drops forward, leaving your touch the only thing holding him up.

You know he has…problems with Bruce. You know his death is a sore subject among them for more reasons than the obvious. You also know the Joker still lives and breathes today and there’s some sort of rule or agreement that Jason isn’t allowed out on patrol when he’s loose. 

There’s clear trust issues there, on both sides, but you’ve always had trouble figuring out what exactly Bruce had done to leave Jason so closed off. It pushed him away from his family and caused potentially irreparable scarring to his ability to trust other people. It actually makes a lot of sense that this is what caused the rift between them—you’d been thinking maybe Bruce was the reason Jason died or he couldn’t stop it, but this…this is a different kind of damaging. Fuck, no wonder Jason feels like he doesn’t belong in his family. 

You take a heavy breath, “You’re important. You’re important to me and whatever moral roadblocks Bruce couldn’t get over doesn’t change that—it has nothing to do with how good you are.” 

You’re definitely crying now but at this point it doesn’t matter. It’s more important for him to hear this than for you to pretend like this isn’t as horrible as it is.

He doesn’t look up at you but you can see his own tears dripping off his face. You don’t see him cry very much at all, and definitely not like this.

You sniffle, “Do you wanna switch?”

He nods against your palms and lets you out of his hold to sit up as he shifts lower on the bed and wraps his arms around your torso. You weave one of your hands in his hair and stroke softly. The other rubs soothing patterns on his back, feeling the heaviness of his breath under it.

You kiss the top of his head, “I love you. So much.”

He holds you tighter, murmuring “I love you,” into your chest.

It’s quiet for several minutes after as you both process the words said.

You’re the first to pipe up again, “How did…”

He exhales, “Ah…it’s a little complicated…”

He wants to talk about it another time. That’s fine by you.

Another silent minute passes before, “Bruce isn’t…he’s not a bad…we had a lot of problems after I came back. Both of us. Took a while to get over ‘em.” There’s a beat before, “Still getting over ‘em.” 

You nod, continuing tracing onto his back. His voice is clearer again, stronger.

“Is that why you don’t like being at the batcave?” you ask.

“No,” he murmurs. “It’s ‘cause he keeps the suit on display.”

You look down at him, frowning. “What suit?”

“The robin suit.”

You pause.

“That robin suit?”

He nods.

…what

for clarification bc i think i thought this was canon oh well

🔮🕯️the reblog witch bids you do her bidding 🕯️🔮