I Painted A Mirror. An Eye For An Eye, Friends.

autistic people are allowed to fit autism stereotypes

i take things literally. i don’t get a lot of neurotypical humor and often feel left out of the joke or even feel like i’m the joke sometimes. i’m gullible. there’s no way to sugarcoat it or put it more nicely, i’m just gullible. i don’t always know what’s satire. i’m socially awkward and have a hard time befriending or remaining friends with anybody who isn’t like me.

much of the autism community puts so much emphasis on “all autistic people aren’t x” and not enough on “who cares if we’re x, we deserve rights”

this goes doubly for ID and nonspeaking autistics btw i just can’t speak to that experience personally

Playlist #1

My personal favourite playlist; I did not make it, I found it on youtube. https://youtu.be/jhX-2wYCjxI

BEES Thank you for your bee pun, OP, this has made my day. And remember! If the bees go, they’re taking us down with them.

Can I offer you a terrible joke in this trying time?

AIDONEUS, OPHELIA AND LIV- MY BELOVEDS!! Truly incredible art and characters that are dear to my heart.

HERES SOME FILLER ART

Enjoy my non Fallout related ocs from a book I’m writing with my friend @deityofcaffeine-writerstears

Nosebleeds

I’ve decided I shall give people nose bleeds- whether with my fists or my looks. Or both. Depends on the person.

Evil can't be scientifically defined. It's an illusory moral concept that doesn't exist in nature. Its origins and connotations have been inextricably linked to religion and mythology.

Dr. Spencer Reid, Criminal Minds, Season 5: Our Darkest Hour

Fanfic writer.

I really do love being a fanfic writer; being able to create content for my favorite shows is an incredible gift that I’m greatful to have-

But it also means that I am cursed with truly horrible ideas at times..

May you burn with the monster that plagues your soul; may you lay in the ashes of your very sins and damnation. May the devil do with you as he sees fit and throw you deep into the pits of the eternal hellfire, and may you reap what you have sown.

Cole, Tacita Corvus (my book)

Cole by the window - Tacita Corvus peek

Soon, perhaps too soon, Cole found himself sitting alone in the attic, the moon shinning in the sky. Hours had passed since dinner time, and every member of the Vasily family had gone to sleep. Though, it didn’t much bother the boy that he was left with nothing but the company of Mx. Moon and Ella Froufrou, who was seated comfortably in his lap.

He stared out the windows, gaze fixed upon the winged creatures that slumbered upon the roofs of family’s and lonely people alike. There was a feeling of both uncertainty and comfort in the air, one that Cole was not yet familiar with. It felt strange to be dressed in clean clothes, curled up under a blanket and observing the stillness of Lanercost with a full stomach.

Cole thought for a moment, brows creasing as he searched his memory for what he was looking for. When he found it, he couldn’t help but smirk and let out a satisfied and partly amused sigh.

Nyctophilia.

That was the word he had been searching for. It was a noun, meaning ‘an attraction to darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness.’

He smiled at the definition, though, he then began to chuckle lightly under his breath as he gazed at the stars, having suddenly remembered another bit of information he had gained from the library, just as he had the rest of his knowledge.

He had suddenly acknowledged the meaning of Nyx’s name.

Cole recalled that Nyx was the daughter of chaos, primordial goddess of the night in Greek mythology. Though the name itself leaned more towards feminine, it was still androgynous either way, which was most likely why Nyx had chosen it for themselves.

 Cole gave a small hum into the darkness, he thought it was a lovely name, and even lovelier now that he had recalled its meaning. He hoped that maybe one day the two could find a way to converse, as it was difficult to do so presently.

The boy returned his attention to the town and the candles still burning in people’s windows. There were few, but each one let him know that someone else was still awake, possibly suffering from insomnia, or simply enjoying the nighttime as Cole was.

The boy felt a small pang of something in his chest as he recalled the sounds of the violin he would often hear when drifting off to sleep in the alley of forest row; how the smooth symphony had accompanied the stars perfectly.

Chaos

Chaos is wearing mismatched socks with holes in them, shuffling through drawers for that one ring you could have sworn you saw there just the morning before, and leaving the house only to remember you forgot to put on shoes.