Gap-tooth - 🧶

My oil painting of an Uncrustable

What age are you now, Orla? Fifteen. Yeah. You might want to think about wising up.

fuck you

if you’re an ADHD person reading one of my #actuallyautistic posts and wondering ‘do my experiences count for this’ the answer is basically always: ‘if you think they do, then absolutely!’

there is a huge overlap between ADHD and autistic experiences (I’m diagnosed with both). please feel free to relate however you want and add whatever tags feel relevant to you.

(also, you don’t need to have autism or ADHD to relate to my posts on those topics. my whole goal is to educate people by describing my experiences & symptoms in a relatable way. relating to autistic and adhd people is good! it is so much better than the opposite.)

yuri and yaoi are some of the best, most sacred things in the entire world

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

Taking intentionally bad photos of yourself is so fun because 1. you get funny images, and 2. you have transcended beauty and entered life

ideal gender: children’s cartoon villain who is intimidating for their first couple of appearances but afterwards is just treated with mild exasperation slowly morphing into a grudging fondness