One Of The Most Important Things To Unpack And Unlearn When You’re Part Of A White Supremacy Saturated

Like a lil protection spell for my cheese ✨ 🧀 🕯

charlie is so autistic coded it isn’t even funny. obscure special interests. doesn’t understand social cues or norms. you can never tell if he’s joking or serious. just “gets” music to the point he’s a genius with it. has to have his own psychological trauma explained to him so he can realize it’s trauma. same outfit 4/7 days of the week. safe foods are weird and also all he wants to eat. big feelings that he can’t process without a meltdown. vocal and physical stims. pattern recognition. doesn’t like physical affection. has meltdowns when overstimulated. loves routine and gets upset when his schedule is changed. it’s all autism babey.

German Christmas Gothic -make it TV

(Source: me on twitter)

rat cookys :)

My family never put much priority on my comfort or happiness. I'm slow to wake up, and I grew up thinking that I hate mornings. My sister is the type of a person who is as wide awake as she'll be all day as soon as her eyes snap open, and when we were teenagers she used to wake me up on school days by tossing the dog at me (our old Tessa was enough of a terrier to always land on her feet, claws first, and could be tossed like a cat) and waking up every day having to wrestle a dog's tongue out of my mouth before I could open my eyes was Not Nice.

My family would berate me for being too sensitive, dramatic, or even downright manipulative, for being able to burst into tears first thing in the morning.

When my boyfriend wakes up before me, he takes meticulous care not to wake me up. He climbs out of bed so cautiously and slowly, gets dressed without turning on the light, and sits quietly in the dark of our one-room apartment until my alarm rings or I wake up on my own. This morning, I woke up to notice that the room was softly lit in a way I didn't recognise, and saw the love of my life quietly gaming in the light of a storm lantern.

I love mornings.

i do feel sympathy for my parents because they often got called to school for meetings whenever i got a little too macabre. My special interests from second grade on were the Bubonic Plague and Vlad the Impaler so this happened as often as you might imagine,

so anyway my school made us go through Confirmation in seventh grade as 12 year olds, which is whack. It’s the Catholic sacrament wherein you retake the vows your guardians made on your behalf at your baptism. It signifies your transition to adulthood in the eyes of the church and God. So you should be, you know, an adult. All of my other friends did it between ages 16 & 20.

You can’t really commit in a genuine way when you’re 12 and the sacrament is written into your class curriculum as homework.

But I digress.

When you get confirmed, you choose a Catholic saint as your patron and learn everything about them and try to model yourself after their values and faith to follow their example.

You’re supposed to envision the sort of person you want to become in the church and look into saints with relevant patronages.

But I got in trouble because my teacher found me googling specifically which saints were martyred by Rome via “eaten by wild beasts” as my baseline criteria

eleven from stranger things is autistic!

Can you take my white ass to target