#+ i’m funny as an adult about textures not so much in terms of eating but in terms of physical touch

[vigilantejustice]

sometimes i think there’s definitely something like. diagnosably wrong with my personality + the more i examine my childhood the more i’m convinced there’s an explanation.

got gifted a guidebook for the sims that had a SUPER detailed multi-generational tutorial playthrough which was just a cool way to highlight all the fun new mechanics of the game but kid me followed this tutorial with complete unwavering rigidity every time and felt like i was somehow playing the sims (a game with literally no rules) wrong or that it didn’t count if i didn’t follow the guide letter for letter what kind of...

[chaotically-cas]

29 Things I Think Allistic People Need To Hear

From an autistic person

Not my usual content but I felt it needed to be said.

Saying “everyone is a little autistic” is really hurtful. Yes, everyone has their struggles but these struggles are far different for autistic people. Saying everyone experiences it is invalidating & harmful.

Being graded on eye contact & standing still is wrong. I’m pretty sure at one point or another we’ve had a project we were graded on & one of the grades was eye contact & not fidgeting. These things are extremely hard for autistic people & they are practically second nature. It’s like holding in a sneeze.

Stim & figget toys in schools. Of course fidget spinner’s & stim cubes can be bought & should be bought by anyone. If you want one, get one. But the way schools are banning them is crazy. They are very necessary for autistic people & it’s so much harder for them when schools ban their use.

QUITTTTT BABYING US!! We aren’t ‘uwu babies’. We are humans. We are perfectly capable of functioning without allistic people’s pity & looking down on us. We are our own people that don’t need a hand to hold in every damn situation. We aren’t cute because of it. 

Listen to autistic people. Everyone is all for advocating for people until that group of people want to advocate for themselves. So shut up & listen once & maybe you can learn something you didn’t know.

Creative writing in class is difficult. You don’t know how many bad grades I’ve gotten on because I can’t think of a good story out of my ass. It’s extremely hard for autistic people. Please give us a prompt it’s more helpful than you know.

Role playing in class. I think we’ve all had to do something where we research a famous person & have to assume their identity. This is again, so hard for autistic people. It’s hard enough for us to be ourselves. Most of us can’t understand these actives enough.

Slurs. Quit saying retard. It’s not an insult. It’s not funny. It’s offensive & every time you use it you’re hurting a disabled person & spreading harmful stereotypes. It’s not just a word. It’s not just a bad word. It’s a slur. Same as the f word or any other slur. Don’t use it.

People talking over us. No I dont mean just in conversations. Although that is another issue. I mean organizations like autism speaks that put words into autistic peoples mouths instead of letting them speak for themselves.

Stop making fun of our special interests. Whether you find anime cringey or think an adult loving Aladdin is childish just stop it. These things being extreme joy to us. They make us happy in a word that we don’t understand. So just leave us alone & let us be happy.

Don’t stare at us if we’re stimming. Especially in public. If you see me flapping my hands. Don’t stare. If you hear me humming quietly, don’t judge. These activities aren’t for your viewing pleasure. They’re for autistic people to regulate & express how they’re feeling.

Normalizing ableism. It’s so normalized. Whether it’s phrased like “suffers from autism” or how regularly ‘retard’ is used in classe; ableism is so often over looked especially by adults. There are no many micro aggressions they are just passed off as us not having a thick enough skin. When in reality it’s really damaging.

People first language. If you ever correct someone by saying “no, they’re a PERSON with autism. Not an autistic person”. Literally shut up. We’re autistic. We’re people. Being autistic doesn’t make us any less human so you don’t need to make it seem like it does. We’re still human no matter our disably. People don’t have to be reminded of this.

Using words like psychopath & sociopath. Calling autistic people these things just because you don’t understand us is disgusting. If you don’t understand these terms don’t use them. Just because we aren’t good at showing empathy in some cases doesn’t make us ‘psychopaths’.

Tone indicators. This is both the over use & not using them that’s an issue. Saying things like “/j /hj /sarcasm /srs /lh” all in one post defeats the whole damn purpose of them. & not using any at all especially when joking around or using sarcasm can lead to a lot of misunderstanding. It’s not that hard to use one or two at the end of a post. /srs

Picky eating. Literally stop making fun of autistic people for not liking a lot of foods or ordering the same thing at every restaurant. A lot of textures & flavors are very bothersome to autistic people. They can cause overstimulation or even panic. Just let us be. So I eat mac & cheese 4 times a week. I didn’t know it effected you so much.

“Ugh you’re so annoying you can’t ever get a joke”. No hearing that is what’s annoying. Tones are hard for us to understand so while most people pick up on it autistic people are more likely to read too much into it or take it seriously. It’s simple to use tone indicators in text or even to say “I’m joking”. It won’t make your joke less funny. It’ll just help us understand more.

Be specific if you want things from us. Don’t just say “hey I need a pencil”. Or “the dishwasher needs put away”. Most likely we’ll just be like, yeah, ok, and? Be specific please. Say things like “can I borrow a pencil?” or “can you undo the dishwasher?”.

Faces seeming to look weird. A lot of us having facial stims that can alter our faces. Whether it’s excessive blinking, eyebrow raising, or face scrunches. Don’t ask us what’s wrong with our face or what we are doing. For me, because of my facial stims & tics my eyes/eyebrows are permanently uneven. Don’t bring it up.

Classroom behavior charts are horrible. Autistic people don’t behave the same as allistic people. Simple as that. What they see as ok behavior, others don’t. & some times they don’t realize these behaviors will get them in trouble.

Police brutality. Especially in black or brown autistic people. It’s so common that people call the police on autistic people stimming in public because they are seen as dangerous. & when these autistic people can’t understand what’s going on or can’t make eye contact they are labeled as more suspicious. Especially black autistic people. Just look at Elijah McLean.

Feeling dumb. Especially in schools or other scholarly conversations. Some autistic people aren’t able to keep up or fully understand everything that’s being said or presented. Which leads to us feeling dumb. Give us time to process or aso questions please.

Feeling robotic. You’ve most likely heard autistic people being compared to robots at one point or another. Whether that’s for the impaired ability to establish empathy or something else it’s an extremely negative & hurtful stereotype. Especially in media.

Saying ‘I forgot’ is a valid excuse. There is so much going on in our heads. So much to process & remember. We forget things. Everyone forgets things. Especially autistic people. Please don’t yell at us for always forgetting to do the dishes. It’s not like we chose to forget.

The harmful effects of the vaccines cause autism jokes. Aside from the whole anti vaxers debate, perpetually the idea that we shouldn’t be vaccinated because it causes autism is disgusting. It’s treating autism like a disease. Like the person who has it isn’t worthy. Or that autism is so chronic it will ruin everything. It’s like people avoiding cheese burgers because it’s rumored they make you ginger. It’s preposterous. 

Yelling at autistic people for struggling to want to learn new concepts/concepts at all. This not only goes for in school but in just normal conversation. It’s hard for autistic people to grasp things they don’t have an interest in learning. So please don’t yell at us for not understanding everything about a band that we don’t care about, we would if we could. It might not seem like a big issue but it happens more than you’d think.

Intrusive thoughts. (Tw: rape mention & violence) Most of the time autistic people experience extreme spells of intrusive thoughts “omg he’s going to rape you image him raping you” or “stab yourself in the side right now” or much worse. & when autistic (and other) people try to talk about it they are labeled crazy or insane. It’s a normal occurrence to have these kinds of thoughts. We don’t want to. But they happen. That’s why they’re called intrusive.

Executive disfunction. This is basically when autistic people are views as lazy but we physically & mentally just can’t. Where tasks as seemingly simple as going to get a glass of water feels like a mountain to autistic people. It’s not that we are lazy. We physically & mentally can’t work up to it.

Class rank & graduation requirements are unfair. Autistic people socialize differently. It’s just a fact. Our brains work differently in classes & outside of it. We could be working our asses off to understand our English class book, but we get an F. Not to mention how most schools require community service hours to graduate. Yes community service is good but it can be very hard for autistic people.

Please feel free to add on but a lot of these are drawn from personal frustrations. Please listen to autistic & other disabled people more. All these also applies to those with ADHD/ADD or any other mental illness where the situations apply. You’re all valid & amazing.

I love you all. 💕

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 3

The Meaning of Home Chapter 3

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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“You could have mentioned.” Pawel fills a bowl with chili from the slow cooker, then adds a scoop of spiced chicken and cheese, and tops it with sour cream. He hands it to his dad and points to the table. “There’s salad, too.”

“More meat, Dad,” Conor says, handing him his bowl. “Beans are weird. They have a really strange texture.”

“They’re also good for you.” Pawel doesn’t skimp on his son’s bowl; he’s seen just how much his kid can pack away. “And you need to eat salad, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Conor mutters. He slides into one of the chairs at the tiny round table that sits between the kitchenette and living room. When all three of them sit down, there’s barely room to move. Pawel’s afraid he’s going to take a bite and end up elbowing his father in the nose.

Still, it’s good to have real food with them, and know that both of them are eating something healthy.

Pawel sits back a bit from the table so he doesn’t knock knees, and holds his own bowl in his hands. The chili isn’t as spicy as he usually makes it at home, but that’s probably better for his father’s stomach anyway.

“Could’ve mentioned what?” Dad asks.

He sounds so innocent.

“That the guy who takes in fosters and happens to work with you is Leo Papa. As in my ex-boyfriend Leo,” Pawel says dryly. “We bumped into him and Emma and another one of his fosters—”

“Jennie,” Conor supplies.

“—At the grocery store,” Pawel finishes, as if Conor hadn’t interrupted. “And oh, funny thing.” He glares at Dad, who blinks back at him, calmly eating. “Turns out Leo’s married to Colt Harrison. My other high school ex.”

“Emma’s dads are the guys you dated in high school?” Conor asks. “They’re really cool. Why didn’t you keep dating them?”

“Leo graduated and left. Colt and I went to different schools. I met your mom.” There’s a lot more to each of those stories, but Pawel doesn’t want to get into the details right here and now. He’s not sure he wants to talk about the drama of his teen life with his son in general.

Conor already knows enough of the details, like the fact that he was born while Pawel was still in school.

“Colt’s really calmed down,” Dad muses. “He used to have a lot of attitude when he was a kid. I remember when you first started dating him, and he’d look down at our house. He thought everything should be served up on a silver platter. Being a dad’s taught him a lot more about reality than anything else did, I think.”

“Are you telling me he doesn’t drive a Porsche anymore?”

Dad barks out a low laugh. “Where would he put five kids in a Porsche? They’ve got practical cars. Although if they take in any more kids, they’ll need one of those big vans, or a miniature bus.”

“Emma wants Dad to find her parents, so she can go home,” Conor reminds them. “She says she’s not staying. I’ll be sad when she goes, though. And her house is fun. It’s kind of chaotic. I mean, Duke’s quiet—he doesn’t talk at all—but Matt’s always saying stuff, and he keeps changing into different animals. And Duke and Matt fight, even if Duke doesn’t yell. He still seems to get his point across, and then he chases Matt, and yeah, it gets messy. You met Jennie—she’s cool, for a little kid, but she’s always eating. Nevaeh’s really pretty. She’s learning how to drive.” 

Conor shovels food into his mouth, a spoonful between every sentence. His spoon clatters back into a mostly empty bowl, a few beans lingering in the bottom. “Can I go call Alan? We’re going to game tonight. I got my homework done while you were cooking.”

“Salad,” Dad reminds him, and Pawel’s thankful for the backup, even if Dad himself hasn’t taken any yet.

Conor puts just enough lettuce and vegetables into his bowl to satisfy the requirement, and finishes it quickly. He drops his spoon on the table. “Gonna go call Alan. Bye!”

The place is small enough that even though the door to the guest room bangs as it bounces closed, then open again, Pawel can still clearly hear Conor shouting a hello to Alan.

“How the hell do they have five kids?” Pawel can’t imagine trying to wrangle more than one.

“There are two of them. There’s a better adult to kid ratio, plus you know Leo’s family helps out.” Dad pulls the salad towards him, heaping his bowl full. “That’s what family does, and you know it. Ours is just smaller than most.”

Him, his dad, and Conor. Yeah. It’s a pretty small family.

Which reminds him, he should probably tell his dad about Chelsea.

Dad points his fork at him. “I’ll agree, though, I didn’t see it coming,” he continues. Pawel stays silent; Chelsea can wait if Dad’s going to tell him more about what the hell’s been going on while he was absent. “Leo and Colt were good together; have been since they first met. But when Leo came in and said he needed a few days off to go pick up a foster kid—almost four years ago, now—it was a hell of a surprise. Matt had a tough time of it, too. His parents gave him up, put him right into the foster system because he’d Emerged as Clan. If Lucy hadn’t gotten him out….” Dad trails off, shaking his head.

“Leo said something about Lucy and Rowan,” Pawel says slowly. “I have two students whose parents are in a triad, and two of those parents are Lucy and Rowan. I’ve spent time with their family in Vermont.”

“Likely the same,” Dad says. “Lucy’s a teacher, and she keeps an eye out for Talented kids who might slip through the cracks otherwise. Apparently she’s been doing it since before the Emergence; it’s just easier now. She’s got a network of teachers, and one of them knows Colt, and that’s how it all came together. Matt did so well with them that when Lucy found out about a thirteen-year-old girl who’d run away from her family with her baby sister, she brought them straight to Leo and Colt, too. Rowan’s a lawyer, and he’s the one who works to make sure the kids are safe, and aren’t going to end up back in bad places. Nevaeh and Jennie’s parents didn’t want a little girl who sparkled all the time, and they were a danger to her, so they were declared unfit.”

“Conor thinks they’ll adopt them. Since Jennie’s grown up with them.” Pawel’s still trying to assimilate it, putting “parents” into the same box as “ex-boyfriends” in his brain. He still sees them both as the awkward teenagers they used to be.

Colt would say he has never been awkward.

He might even be right.

“They’ve thought about it. I think Colt’s looked into it, but even with the parents out of the picture as they are, they’re still alive, so adoption becomes a tricky thing.” Dad picks up his empty bowl along with Conor’s and takes them over to the sink.

Pawel uses the freedom to stretch his legs under the small table. He’s barely eaten anything yet, so he starts working his way through his chili, letting his mind spin.

He should get in touch with Lucy and Rowan. They’ve talked before, more than once actually. Maybe it’d be good to let them know he’s aware of their efforts. That he knows Leo and Colt.

No, not like that. That makes it sound like he knows them better than he does. Until he ran into Leo in the store, he hadn’t seen him in more than a decade. It hasn’t been quite as long for Colt, but close enough.

Still. This sounds like something he should offer help with. Even if he can’t foster, he can help with Lucy’s ability to network down in Unity. He’s sure she could use that, and well, he owes her family for all the help they’ve given in the last year.

He scoops up the last mouthful of chili. That’s decided then. He’ll give them a call later. Or text them. Reach out, anyway.

“Bring me your bowl.” Dad waits until Pawel brings his dishes over before he adds quietly, “Never did figure out if you ended things on good or bad terms, but I know you moped about both of them enough to figure they weren’t easy breakups. They’re both doing well now. They’re good for each other. Leo’s a valuable part of my force, and Colt’s a voice to be reckoned with in the courtroom. They fight for Talented folks to be safe. So if you’re thinking of somehow getting in the middle of this….”

Dad’s voice trails off and he gives Pawel a look.

Pawel has no idea what Dad’s thinking. “Get in the middle of… no. What? I was just going to reach out and offer to be a liaison in Unity, if Lucy and Rowan don’t already have one. And thank them for all the help they’ve given us. And maybe talk to Colt and Leo about whether I can help Emma out. Since apparently people disappearing has become my specialty.”

Dad huffs and turns away. “Fine. Just don’t go making any trouble for them. They’re good folk.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to—” Pawel gestures at the couch, but that’s not really helpful for getting any distance or privacy. “Actually. Why don’t you go put your feet up. I’ll finish the clean up.”

“You cooked.” The protest is half-hearted.

“And I was home all day, so I can clean, too.” Maybe being home support is a good way to thank his dad for everything he’s done. It’s something Pawel can do, anyway.

The TV goes on loud enough that Pawel can hear it clearly over the running water. Pawel takes a moment to tap out a quick message to send to Lucy.

Heard you help find foster homes for Talented kids in need. My son’s met a few of the kids you placed in my home town. If you ever need a contact in Unity, I’d be happy to help.

He leaves his phone face up on the counter.

He’s up to his elbows in suds, scrubbing the inside of the slow cooker, when his phone buzzes. He glances over to see a response from Lucy.

I’ve actually got folks in Unity and Valiant, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. I already know you’ve got a vested interest in keeping Talented kids safe, and a larger network means more help. Just like we’ve been telling you with our family in Burlington: lean on people when you need them.

Even people who barely know him are giving him advice. 

He lets the screen fade; he’ll reply later when his hands aren’t soaking wet. Instead he finishes filling up the small dishwasher and gets it started. As soon as the rumbling begins, Dad turns up the volume on the TV so he can hear over the rattling of the dishwasher.

It’s just too much noise for Pawel. He makes his way to the guest room, knocking on the half-open door before he nudges it wide enough to step inside. Conor waves a hand, and Pawel takes that as meaning close the door, so he does.

“What are you playing?” Pawel looks at the screen, but all he sees is Alan, who waves at him.

“We haven’t started playing yet.” Conor’s voice is too loud, his headphones still covering his ears. Pawel taps at them, and Conor removes them and switches the sound to the speakers. “We’ve just been talking. Alan was telling me about all the things happening at home. I really like my class and my teacher here, but I really miss home. Except for Marjorie. I don’t really miss her.”

“But you miss me,” Alan says, grinning. “Hi, Mister Szczek.” 

They’ve known each other long enough that Polish names, along with the random few words Conor knows and has shared, roll off Alan’s lips like he’s part of the family. Well, he and Conor are schoolyard married, so maybe he is part of the family.

“Hi, Alan. Actually, I’ve got a question for you both.” Pawel sits down on the bed next to Conor, leaning in so he’ll be on camera. “I picked up tickets for SongFest out in Buffalo this weekend. I was thinking you could join us if you boys want.”

“You got us tickets for SongFest? Do I get to see Rory and Thorne on stage? What about that girl? Trish? Is she doing music there, too? You changed your mind! You said I was too young for concerts.” Conor bounces on the bed enough that the laptop wobbles. Pawel reaches out to stabilize it as Alan laughs.

“You’re too young for clubs,” Pawel says. “And this is going to be a long day, out in the hot sun, assuming it doesn’t rain on Saturday. But I figured we could give it a try, and since it’s outside, the music won’t be quite as bad on your ears. You already don’t listen to half of what I say.”

“Mom says my dad and me have selective hearing,” Alan volunteers. 

“She’s not wrong. Sometimes it’s better to just not listen. Can’t get in trouble if you don’t hear it,” Conor agrees. His gaze slides sideways, as if he forgot Pawel is sitting there. “Soooooooo,” he draws the word out before his gaze locks back on Alan on the screen. “Can you go with us?”

“We’d be driving out on Friday,” Pawel clarifies. “The actual festival is in Buffalo on Saturday, and it goes late. We’d have a hotel for both nights, and come back on Sunday.”

The smile falls away as Alan shakes his head. “I can’t this weekend. It’s my cousin’s birthday next week, and we’re doing a big family thing this weekend in Boston. She’s my aunt’s miracle baby, and we always get the whole family together to celebrate her. She’s three this year. She’s my oldest aunt and my youngest cousin. I’m youngest, before her.”

Conor ducks his head. “Oh.” He pulls his blanket onto his lap, picking at the fuzz on it.

“We’ll have to find a different weekend for Alan to come out and visit then,” Pawel says firmly. The boys have been apart for two months, and that’s a long time in a nine-year-old’s life. “Then you can introduce Alan to Emma.”

“We’ve met.” Alan sounds cheerful about that. “She’s pretty cool. She and Conor call me sometimes. I think she should come live with you guys when you come home.”

Conor makes a low scoffing noise. “She’s not like a stray dog. We can’t just keep her. She’s already got foster dads, and besides, my dad is going to find her parents. Then she’ll have to go wherever her home really is. Which will suck, because I really like hanging out with her, but it’ll make her happy, so that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’s really cool you’re going to do that, Mister Szczek,” Alan echoes.

It’s very cool, right up until the moment Pawel thinks about how that means figuring out a plan, and then interacting with Leo and Colt to enact that plan.

“I’ll do my best.” Pawel touches Conor’s shoulder. “Why don’t you guys do your game for a bit. It’s a school night, so you still need to get to bed.”

Conor shakes his head, as if he can shake off the blues. Maybe it works, because he’s smiling when he reaches for his laptop. “Okay, Alan. Let’s do this.”

Pawel is clearly dismissed.

He exits the room, leaving the door propped just enough that he can hear the rumble of Conor talking as he puts his headphones back on, and nothing else. Dad’s half-asleep on the couch, watching a show through his eyelids, so Pawel sinks down there and joins him. As Dad snores softly, Pawel grabs the remote and stops the show. Dad can get back to it later, and he won’t notice Pawel channel surfing while he snoozes.

Time passes in a haze of snippets of comedy and drama. Pawel can’t seem to find anything he really wants to watch, and Dad has no opinions as he naps. Pawel keeps one eye on the time, and he’s just about to call out when he hears Conor yell, “Got to go! Bye!” The sound of the laptop closing is clear enough to make Pawel wince, but he knows that machine has put up with a lot from his son already.

Conor emerges a few minutes later, already in his pajamas. He heads straight for the bathroom, and Pawel can hear the water running as he brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. By the time Conor makes it into the living room, the noise has disturbed Dad, who sits upright and yawns.

“Bed,” Pawel says firmly, not entirely certain which one of them he’s talking to. Probably both.

“Goodnight son.” Dad squeezes Pawel’s shoulder as he stands. He reels Conor in for a long hug on his way by, then disappears into his own room.

Conor stands there, hands clasped behind his back, his lower lip drawn in between his teeth.

“You want something,” Pawel says.

“Since Alan can’t go and you said you already bought a ticket, can we bring Emma with us to the festival this weekend?” Conor blurts it all out in a rush, biting his lip again when he’s done. “I know you don’t know her really well yet, but she’s nice and we won’t be trouble and it would really be a lot of fun.”

If Pawel takes Emma all the way to Buffalo, he can’t see her foster parents letting her go alone.

Pawel slides his palm over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hears the soft, defeated exhale from Conor.

“Okay,” Conor says softly. “I get it.”

“That’s not—” Pawel hesitates, peeking between his fingers at where his son stands there, waiting for an answer. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to her fathers. Foster fathers.” Even without Emma there to correct him, he corrects himself. He understands the importance of terminology. Sometimes you have to make sure you say things the right way. Words have power, even when you’re nine.

Words might even have more power over children. That’s why it’s important to acknowledge the ones they want to use.

Conor darts across the room, plowing into where Pawel is still on the couch for a flying, tackling hug. “Thanks, Dad. I love you. Can I tell Emma you’re going to ask? Should it be a surprise? When are you going to ask?”

So many questions.

So many complications to this one simple request.

Pawel wraps his arms around his son, choosing to just hold on for the moment. He pats Conor on the back, and Conor slowly disengages from the hug, bouncing on his toes as soon as he’s upright.

“I’ll talk to Leo and Colt,” Pawel promises. “But you need to give me time.”

“It’s already Tuesday,” Conor whines. “You said we’re going on Friday. That’s not a lot of time. Wait, what about school? Are you taking me out of school?”

“That’s one of the things I’ll need to talk to Leo and Colt about.” One thing among several. And this is coming out of the blue, after all these years of silence. Because of course Pawel’s son has managed to dump him into chaos. It’s what the Szczeks do.

“For now,” Pawel adds, “go to bed. Let me take care of the adult things, okay?”

“Okay. G’night, Dad!” Conor slams the door to his room behind him.

Pawel’s left on the couch—his bed for the summer—alone with his thoughts. 

So. They’re taking Emma to the festival. He promised. If her foster fathers allow her to go.

There are so many ways in which this could get awkward.

It’s up to Pawel to take the first step, so he opens his phone and brings up a text to Leo’s number.

Okay. Dinner. When?

He presses send. There, that’s started. It’s in the hands of his exes now.

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