even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.
they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!
when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.
if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.
at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.
it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or there demons affecting my behavior.
but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.
and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."
it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.
someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.
george rexstrew deserves awards for many things but i have to say. edwin’s bloodcurdling scream as niko gets killed deserves a whole award unto itself. like. that scream did not feel at all like a tv show scream. to a somewhat jarring degree. and i can’t express how much I respect that
Thinking about the fact that Mabel and Dipper didn't know they had two great uncles.
Yeah they are 12 and at 12 I had a shotty understanding of my family tree- But really? Nobody brought up their great uncle? Stanley? Especially since they'll be staying with his twin brother, Stanford?
Shermie never went to Stan's fake funeral, which to me means the twos relationship was strained on some level. If Shermie is older that means his view of Stan was poisoned in some way, that even as kids they weren't close. If the Shermie is younger then he never even got to meet Stan and all he knew about him was how he failed his family. Hell, people probably barely mentioned Stanley TO Shermie.
The fact that Stan had become a black stain upon the Pines family name makes me so vividly upset. Stanley faked his death and the family just- seemingly decided to strike him from the record. To pretend he didn't existed to spare themselves the sadness and shame.
Stanford and Shermie Pines. The only children worth mentioning of Filbrick and Caryn Pines.
It was never Stanford that was lost to the world. It was Stanley, ever since he had to leave New Jersy- it was always him that had to be struck from the record. Change his name, change his state, change his affiliations, destroy the remains of ghost that was Stanley Pines. Kill him so the family doesn't bring him up, doesn't ask questions, stops asking "Stanford" about his twin.
I just keep thinking about the fact that since the day he made one single mistake all the way up until Ford walks out of that machine- Stanley Pines was killed and did not exist. And Stan himself had no one to blame, he had to play the part in his own demise- He is the only one who ever knew Stanley was alive and has been for decades.
He lives in the multitudes of every personality he's ever taken, all in the hope that he himself can stop being Stanley Pines.
soukoku shippers can NEVER come after kunizai now with the excuse of them having no angst i think they honestly win tragic yaoi of the year award WAIT UNTIL DAZAI HEARS HIS PARTNER GOT TURNED INTO A 7/11 $2.50 FROST GLACIER SLUSHIE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
I've seen a lot of people talk about how the game doesn't give you any leeway when you play The Dark Urge, how it makes it very clear that Durge was A Bad Person, but I haven't seen it pointed out that Sceleritas seems VERY well versed in gaslighting the hell out of them and steering Durge away from any doubt or guilt in regards to their actions. Makes me think that they've probably had those types of conversations before because Durge actually always had a soft spot, only it got smaller and smaller in time. I have not had the opportunity to see the Heal cutscene yet, but I've got the butler in my camp now and he had some interesting things to say, like
[Durge: Can you tell me the worst thing I ever did?
Sceleritas Fel: There was one time you gave a beggar some coin while we were en route to the Devil's Fee.
Sceleritas Fel: You didn't kick him or spot on him or anything! I was so shocked I almost fainted!
Sceleritas Fel: I still have nightmares about it to this day. But I'm sure you only did so to lower the suspicions of the Flaming Fist. Surely?]
and it struck me because tossing a coin to a beggar is a bit of a thoughtless act isn't it? You don't put much thought into it, you just see someone in need and you do it. Out of empathy, generosity, something The Murder Incarnate should not be capable of. Sceleritas' uncertainty of Durge's reasoning for it totally convinces me it was NOT intentional. A simple act of kindness that slipped out.
ALSO
[Sceleritas Fel: The only way for a Butler to die is if we are not of use to our Master. But you have always needed abundant assistance.]
They always needed abundant assistance. Why? Because they kept slipping out of Bhaal's grasp? We know they did at least once, with Gortash. Maybe it was not the first time, maybe there are more "Letters of Forgiveness" tucked away somewhere.
To me pre-tadpole Durge is just terribly mindbroken and indoctrinated person hooked onto the sense of safety, purpose and acceptance of their dark side that the cultists and their father give them. Yeah they enjoy murder, gore and all that. That's the curse of their blood, but I don't think they were ever entirely consumed by it. Morality, guilt and empathy have always been there on the edge of their mind. Losing their memories (depending on player choices I know, but bear with me) was what they needed for them to be finally brought forward.
Obsessed with Simon sacrificing his life every chance he gets to save Markus but when it's Markus risking his life to save him Simon tells him every fucking time he shouldn't have done that
still insanely funny to me that ortus nigenad has canonically written 18 volumes of epic poetry about a bodyguard who was, in fact, Just Some Guy, and regularly quotes himself out loud in conversations on the regular. man had to die at the start of gtn because he was too fucking powerful to live
Wow I have been nonstop thinking about tennis king yuuta and his little baby boy I’m going to kill you (affectionate) - @yuutito
teeheeeeeeeee….. here’s some more, aleks :’) enjoy :))))))
“Everybody thinks he looks like me, but I don’t see it that way. Maybe it’s because every time I look at him, I see my wife and I’m reminded of her […] I’m a little biased so I see her in everything.”
You find yourself with tears welling in your eyes the more you read into Yuuta’s latest magazine interview. Between his sweet quotes and the pictures of him with your son, it’s taking everything in you not to burst into full-blown tears.
Your boys look so handsome. You and Yuuta shared your concerns with publicizing your child at such a young age, but you two came to the conclusion that you’d rather have the control in the narrative than to let private family pictures be leaked uncontrollably. As another point of reassurance, Yuuta’s career provided him with just enough lime-light to be a household name without the crazy fame and criticism that came along being a true celebrity. Besides—Yuuta talked enough about you and your son in press conferences and interviews that it was bound to happen sooner rather than later.
The article wasn’t entirely about you, or your family—or at least, you’re sure it wasn’t intended to be; you knew your husband had a knack for rambling about his loved ones, even where work was concerned. As you continue to read, you find a segment where the author compared Yuuta’s current statements with something similar he’d said about you twelve years ago—at the very start of his professional career: “If I owe this [winning Gold] to anybody, it’s my girlfriend. She’s always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. I wouldn’t have qualified or even thought to qualify if it weren’t for her.”
It feels like you and Yuuta were just two kids in love back then. You didn’t think it could be more than that—you didn’t think you could love Yuuta more than you did all those years ago, but somewhere along the way just being in love wasn’t enough to describe it; Yuuta became your partner, someone you loved fundamentally, but also because you couldn’t stand to see yourself without him. And just when you thought you couldn’t love anyone nearly as much as you love him, you turn the page to a picture of your husband and son peeping through the holes of a racket and your heart feels full.
When you scan the image more closely, you realize that it isn’t just any racket—it’s an old one, one you’d given to Yuuta as a gift probably back in high-school. You had no idea he’d kept it, but you suppose you shouldn’t be all that surprised; Yuuta is nothing if not sentimental.
“Ah, there she is~” Yuuta’s voice cuts through your thoughts. When you turn, you see him, with your baby boy on his hip, sliding the back porch door closed.
Both boys approach you with a smile on your face, and you set the magazine aside to sit up in the lounge chair to greet them. Yuuta presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips before you do the same to your son. Immediately after, he reaches his arms out for you, and Yuuta chuckles, “You wanna be with your mama? Can’t blame you, I missed her, too.”
He hands the baby off to you, and takes a seat on the other end of the chair, reaching over to coo at his son as you smother his face in kisses.
“How was the farmer’s market?” you question, letting the baby settle into your lap.
“Good, he picked out some very bright peppers, and we got some more strawberries, know you’ve been craving them,” Yuuta smiles, reaching over to pat your son’s head, when the closed magazine catches his eye, and he reaches for it, quickly flipping through, “Ah—I guess that interview’s out. He’s grown so much, even though it was only a few months ago.”
You find the blush on his cheeks beyond endearing. Yuuta always finds room to be bashful no matter how many times he’s waxed poetic about his love for you, or his family—his cheeks always stain pink like the first day you met him.
“It’s sweet. You’re sweet,” you smile, sparing a hand to run through Yuuta’s hair, charmed by the way he leans into your touch, “I didn’t know you still had that racket.”
“Of course, I keep everything you give me,” he says, earnestly. He closes the magazine and scoots a little closer, taking advantage of the proximity and of your touch to lay his head on your shoulder, “Did you… read all of it?”
“Almost, but no, why?” you question, with a light-hearted grin, “Did you say something that would lead the world to believe you’re somehow even more in love with me? Because you might already be past the threshold, dear.”
Yuuta hums. He reaches to take you son out of your lap and carefully shifts himself to that he’s laying down, his head on your lap, and the baby in his arms, happily giggling and cooing as Yuuta holds him up. He lowers and raises him back and forth a few times, nuzzling their noses together when their faces are close, before sitting him up on his chest.
Then he tilts his head up to look at you, wide, love-filled eyes blinking slowly before he says, “Maybe… depends on if me saying I want more kids is past the threshold or not.”
they would get divorced in one universe just to find eachother in another one
alternatively titled: sometimes you're the level-headed token flesh-head impulse-control-and-polycule-member of a stubborn, eccentric, and hearty telephone-headed drug addict, and there's cruelty in the world you deem fit to suicidally fight, and that either goes about as well as you'd expect it to, or you learn about love and the value of your life and junk along the way
retired ghoap going on a renovation competition show
ghost takes over the budget and he's ruthless with it; tracking every paint swatch and piece of lumber down to the last cent, haggling for every purchase and making the most of their coupons. soap's in charge of design; he can visualise floor plans better than anyone, seeing the completed spaces in his mind when they’re little more than a steel shell
they run their site like a military base, treating their builders like rookies; expecting them to follow orders but also waiting for them to inevitably mess up so they can fix it
they're an immediate shock to the judges; they fully expected them to have no idea what they're doing, to have no understanding of style or trends, but they didn't sign up just for shits and giggles
they know how to hit a brief and can do physical labour faster than the actual builders. with soap's discerning eye and ghost's practically, they design gorgeous rooms and become a real threat for the prize money. they handle the stress and sleepless nights like it's second nature bc really, it is; a few all nighters painting are nothing compared to being shot at
they also take great joy in messing with the other couples
it takes a while for them to figure out they're even married; they argue like it's going out of fashion, never holding their opinions or frustrations back but it's their love language as much as their banter. you can hear them barking at each other from across the site; callsigns and “It” and “sergeant” thrown around just like in the field
the challenges are where they have the most fun
the day to day? that's work; they're strict, both with themselves and the schedule, never letting anything fall behind or go incompleted. but the challenges? that's play time. they love pushing the brief, toeing the line of the rules purely bc they can
they get to a two part art challenge and ghost's scheming before before the host even opens their mouth. part one? one half of the couple has to design some kind of art piece that will feature in their house. part two? the other person has to gather supplies and tools and make the art
there's a time limit for how long they can take to gather the supplies; once it's up, they can't go back for more and they can only use what they can carry themselves to their station. they're in a warehouse filled with scrap and paint and tools, the choices almost overwhelming
ghost politely interrupts the host to ask for a clarification; absolutely anything in the warehouse can be used so long as they can carry it?
the host confirms; anything under the roof is their's to use
ghost thanks them and steps back in line, standing at attention and waiting for round one to start
ghost volunteers to be the one to do the art, shocking everyone since soap is well known as the artist of the two of them. but soap sees the mischief in his eyes; he knows he's up to something and can't wait to see where it goes
the timer starts and ghost immediately shucks his hoodie and gets to grabbing; stuffing the impromptu bag with everything he recognises from soap's own supplies. there's seconds to go when he bolts for soap, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry
the other couples are pissed and call it cheating, trying to get them disqualified
ghost just shrugs, soap still over his shoulder, "they said we can use anything we can carry. i followed the brief"
soap just laughs like a mad man
they win the challenge by a landslide
everything's going smoothly, they've won enough room reveals that they’re in a good financial position, they’re ahead in their current room and in a great headspace
then soap gets injured
it's an honest mistake, a part of the roof they thought was stable collapsing and hitting soap
and ghost, always calm and in control, panics
he's on the other side of the site when he hears soap cry out and goes running; shoving past cameramen and builders, screaming to know what happened before he even sees him. he finds soap on the ground, blood dripping from his temple and it's too familiar; a thing he sees in his nightmares
he doesn't know what to do with all his fear so instead, he channels it into anger
he goes off on all his builders, demanding to know how they could be so useless and careless as to miss the unstable roof; screaming at them in a way he hasn't done since he was on active duty, tearing down a rookie for poor trigger management
all the while, his gentle hands tend to soap; checking the wound, if he's concussed, soothing him before he can slip into a flashback of his own. he growls at the cameras, doesn't let the onsite medics anywhere near him; he doesn't know them, doesn't trust them with his johnny. it's only soap's gentle convincing that makes him step back, that forces him to stop and breathe; glaring the medics down from soap's side as they check him and come to the same conclusion soap already reached
he'll be iust fine; a few stitches and he'll be right back in it
ghost goes with him to the hospital to get the stitches laid, abandoning the site to their terrified builders to look after. it takes a few days before he can handle them being separated again, can't even handle one of them going shopping while the other site manages
but soap doesn't begrudge him for his clinginess, not when he knows it's rooted in the fear of losing him. he just keeps him close and calls him his good luck charm when they win the room reveal that week
Obsessed with the way Evadne's relationship with Apollo is described. Obsessed with the way Apollo was especially gentle with her because she was sheltered, hidden away and hadn't had any sort of experience with love prior to Apollo (and due to it being described as her 'first learning Aphrodite's joy' through Apollo', it was probably her first time even being attracted to someone). Obsessed with the way when she runs away, she stops in a violet patch to give birth. Y'know, violets, very famously the flower so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used in love potions? Those violets. Obsessed with the way that when Apollo realised his lover was going to have to deliver their child alone, he sent BOTH the goddess of childbirth and ALL THREE OF THE FATES to help and support her. Obsessed with the way that Apollo sends snakes to feed his baby honey straight from their fangs because Evadne abandons their son out of straight primal fear when her stepfather finds her and how the description of that honey is 'sweet venom' [ἰός] of the bees and is DEFINITELY a poetic pair/pun with [ἴον] aka violets and that every single thing about this relationship, conception and birth is a complete and utter fairytale down to Evadne's insanely overprotective stepfather having an immediate change of heart when he learned Evadne's child was an actual, legitimate Son of Apollo and the babe, after being cared for by his dad's honey-fanged snake buddies, was found perfectly healthy five days later swaddled in a blanket of violets (y'know the flowers so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used for lo-) and they called him Iamus aka Boy of the Violets which is AAAAAARRRR I AM GNAWING AT MY ENCLOSURE
Iamus was made of love. Everything about him was surrounded by deep and profound love and like, let's not even talk about his whole Thing of when he came of age and was like "I need to find out what my purpose is" and he literally had a Disney Protagonist moment where he ran out into the wilds and was like "Father!! Grandfather!! Tell me what I'm supposed to doooo!!" and then APOLLO FUCKING ANSWERED AND LED HIM TO ONE HIS TEMPLES ENTIRELY BY TALKING WITH IAMUS AND LETTING HIM FOLLOW HIS VOICE FOR THE WHOLE JOURNEY LIKE -
What do y'all know about the kind of SSS tier romantic escapades Apollo had fr?