bark texture

Some autistic DEH headcanons

Evan:

- constantly in a state of sensory overload
- special interest is trees
- frequent meltdowns
- likes rough textures
- like tree bark
- but also smooth textures
- like tree leaves
- stims by rocking back and forth
- also by rubbing his cast
- takes things very literally
- lot’s of scripting
- routines routines routines

Connor:

- quiet and secluded
- semi-verbal
- uses ASL when he’s nonverbal
- frequently uses sarcasm but has trouble recognizing when others are being sarcastic
- chews on everything
- E V E R Y T H I N G
- has some unhealthy stims
- but loud music is fav stim
- also picking at his nail polish
- and running his hands through his hair because it looks greasy BUT ITS ACTUALLY SO SOFT
- HAPPY FLAPPING
- LOTS OF HAPPY FLAPPING

Jared:

- if you thought the happy flapping was just a Connor thing boy were you wrong
- so much happy flapping
- comes off as an asshole but he actually just doesn’t know what’s socially acceptable and what’s not
- special interest is Portal tbh
- he connects with Space Core on a spiritual level
- GLITTER
- ON EVERYTHING
- favorite stim toy is his Tangle Jr.
- he also loves Thinking Putty
- AND FIDGET SPINNER OMG
- HE’S GOT A DRAWER FULL OF THEM

- mod Jewish center shooter

Autistic Merle Things

-Doesn’t bind because its so ding dang uncomfortable

-SpIn in nature and plants, hes got about 20 potted plants in his BoB dorm and on the Starblaster he had various plants of all sizes throughout every room on the goddamn ship. He makes Davenport swear to Pan that he’ll take care of them while Merle is dealing with John in parlay

-Stims with the soulwood arm! He taps his fingers on it and rubs his hands up and down the bark, he loooves the texture its so A++

-Never wears shoes or socks and keeps his sleeves to a minimum. He only wears shorts and has given up on buying new clothes at this point

-suuper touch sensitive and he doesn’t let anybody touch him, except Davenport and the other two THB on really good days. And of course Lucretia bc shes like his best friend.

-exhausted all the time but he just cannot drink coffee because the smell is so dang strong it hurts. He drinks tea instead but it is not the same amount of energy at all

-hums to himself all the time. Stims with singing even though he isn’t any good.

-his arms have 2 positions and theyre either As Close To His Body As Possible(raptor hands) or Straight Out To The Side there is no inbetween

-he sits on his hands

Please add on to this my autistic dad needs more love

Please Consider: Autistic Evan

[Please keep in mind I’m not Autistic. I do work with autistic individuals and my sister has Aspergers but I have no personal experience with it. I was just talking with @time-plus-night and we came up with it. Feel free to add/correct anything.] 

Autistic Evan Hansen who struggles with social cues. 

Autistic Evan Hansen who can’t tell when someone is joking or angry, and getting anxious because of it. 

Autistic Evan Hansen whose favourite interest is trees!! 

Autistic Evan Hansen who really loves rough textures, like tree bark. Slimy textures stress him out.

Autistic Evan Hansen who stims by playing with his shirts, scratching his arm, and rocking back and forth. 

Autistic Evan Hansen who loves the rough texture of his cast! 

Autistic Evan Hansen who is extremely sensitive to contact, flinching away from it. 

Autistic Evan Hansen who finds a lot of peace in the forest, away from all the loud, awful noises. 

Autistic Evan Hansen. 

Astral Travel

Guys, I did the accidental lecture thing, again. I was answering a question and ended up with a dissertation. Regardless, I thought I’d post it here in the hopes that someone would eventually find it useful.

First off, what is astral travel? It’s where you send part of your mind (your imagination, your ‘wandering’ mind, but not all of you) into the astral while retaining awareness of your body, and remaining in your body. It’s much like daydreaming, except that once things start to happen that you weren’t expecting, can’t control, or didn’t know beforehand, you’re likely truly traveling.

There are a few ways to get there–I find it easiest to get there via meditation and sinking into my mindscape, but for some people who specialize in bilocation (retaining awareness in both states at once), it’s as easy as going “let me tune in to what’s happening here,” much the same way you would if you suddenly decided to start actively listening to the background music.

There are a few skills I’d recommend you develop if you want to be able to travel successfully. First off, visualization is important. It’s how your imagination takes the input it’s getting through extra senses and translates it into something your mind can relate to–turns it into something you can taste/feel/smell/see/hear. For many people, however, vision is the most difficult sense to awaken in the astral, as it requires a vast amount of information and visual practice to be able to visualize something in full TV-style vision.

Which brings us to the point–you’re probably not going to experience a stroll through an astral forest the same way you’d experience a stroll through an earth forest, unless you’re both incredibly practiced and attentive to detail. Instead, you might catch flashes of the forest sound, bits of green of leaves, the feel of the crunch of the leaves under your feet, the texture of bark under your hand, the song of the birds and rustles of other animals, etc.

Second! You’re probably going to want some practice before you truly start delving into the astral, so I’d recommend starting off by creating your own astral space. A lot of us do this, and it’s widely recommended for beginners and advanced practitioners alike. It’s a good way to practice your visualization and warding skills, and it gives you a “safe” start and end point, and somewhere you can always get back to if lost.

It’s very similar, I’ve found, to the “mind palace” or “method of loci” memory technique.

You take a space you’re intimately familiar with, and build it from the ground up. It does not have to be somewhere you’ve been–just someplace you can imagine in intricate and exquisite detail, and continue to pour energy into making more “real” each time you visit it.

I’ve spent entire sessions sitting on the rock next to my pool and imagining what the ripple of the water looks like from any angle, trying to get it to accurately reflect the sun, or spent hours lying on the grass noticing the feel of the sun on my skin, or wandering around touching the trees or grass to get the textures more accurate.

This was briefly mentioned a moment ago, but the third thing you’re going to need to know, and arguably the most important, is warding. Ward everything. I don’t want to be a fearmonger with horror stories; in fact very little bad has ever happened to me in the astral besides one thrilling fight that I wouldn’t necessarily call a bad experience. However, it is always better to be safe than sorry, and whether you’re doing something as simple as an energy bubble to keep out anything with ill intent, or more powerful and complex anchored multi-layered offensive and defensive warding, it’s something that any and everyone can never do enough of, in my opinion.

Ward yourself and your astral space, especially. In general, no one will be able to find your astral space, but some things can follow you back from traveling to find your “base.” Your space is a safe haven to you, a personal little fold of astral you carry around in your head, and someone else getting into that could seriously injure or mess you up, not to mention leech off of your energy. Don’t invite someone in there, unless you trust them intimately, and even then, it doesn’t mean take down your wards.

instagram

A full shot of the forged #aspen tree #fireplace surround. I apologize as I thought this video was with the previous video. All forged copper, brass, bronze and steel leaves. Full on detail of the texture of bark, scars and the eyes of the tree. More of a #metalsculpture. Forged steel grass tufts, which was an interesting challenge to interpret the heads of the grass. I’ll be talking more about this install in this week’s video. Client was very happy! #dragonforgeltd #dirtysmith #interiordesigns #homedecor #metalart #blacksmith (at Parker, Colorado)

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The Fault in My Code: Ch. 18

You can read Chapter 18 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 18: One Hungry Maroon, One Seeing Blue

           It was the lightning that woke him, followed by the peal of thunder that shook the air around them. Will jolted, stared up at the ceiling, then pulled himself out of bed. With the curtains open, the doors that led to the small balcony overlooking the ocean was ethereal, and he let the cool metal of the handle shock his skin awake.

           Unheeding of the downpour, Will stepped out onto the balcony, allowing himself to become drenched. He stared out at the roiling ocean, black with its fury, then to the clouds so heavy with pitch that the space where they ended and the ocean began was non-existent. Something boiled beneath his skin, tempted him to jump. He swayed forward, found himself swaying back.

           He covered his eyes to better feel the rain, and he sighed, the sound just quiet enough that the downpour didn’t let it carry farther than his mouth. He lowered his hands, grasped the rail just in front of him and stared out, searching for something he knew he wouldn’t find.

Keep reading

Flower Boy

Elven! Mark Lee x Reader :)

Genres: Fluff, Drama, Fantasy.

Word count: 943

Y/N is a young adult, specifically one with kleptomaniac habits. One day, they steal from the wrong band of hunters and piss off a very, very temperamental witch. An unlikely person appears and things get a little bit… murky.

Enjoy!


You struggled to breath with every step you took, the subsequent slamming of your feet into the rough terrain making air fly out of your lungs far faster than you would prefer. Only the incessant beating of your heart could be heard, like a rapid drum beat. You knew your pursuers could hear you.

“Catch her!”

Thorns and brambles lashed at your legs as you stumbled over a particularly thick section, the thin, sharp tips of twigs and briars breaking the flesh. You let out a yelp as you turned into a channel, tumbling into the mud and falling into to stream, “Fuck!”

You wiped the dirt out of your eyes with your worn canvas shirt, abrasive on your skin. Two figures crested the top of the hill, the noise of more clearly not far behind. The one on the right - a young looking, orange haired scout carrying a bow – pointed at you from atop a rock. His partner, an older scout with darker hair, knocked an arrow and drew his bow.

All this for a fucking spell.

The other members of the hunting party appeared pair by pair, all caring deadly bows. Yeah, stealing that spell had been a really bad idea. You could picture it already: They were going to spike you through the eye and roast you on a stick, plucking the spell scroll from your pocket before letting your body erupt into violent flames.

A woman stepped forward, long flowing silver hair practically floating around her with anger. Her whole aura spoke power; electricity flowing through the air like it was polarized. Her eyes were as bright as lightning, a sign of her status.

A witch.

“Return what you owe and you’ll leave here alive.”

You gulped, leg tensed as if ready to turn and bolt. Your mind knew better, though, stopping your impulsive body. If you ran, they would surely kill you. You let your foot settle, accidentally falling after your ankle crumpled in pain. You yelped as your right leg twisted, hitting the wet, mossy ground on your already sore side. The woman’s gaze remained solid, unwavering. She calmly descended the slope into the stream, boots steaming as she sloshed through the two inch water step by step. The witch held out a pale palm, intricate patterns that screamed wiccan all over her skin.

“Hand it over, wretch.”

You felt a presence manifest behind you; A light, airy presence that carried the smell of soft blossoms, dew, and earth. Their voice was cheerful and teasing, a childish sort of quality to his tone, “No one’s handing over anything, Siphony.”

He walked up beside you and you choked as you caught sight of the new arrival. His hair was the color of water lilies, his eyes a stunning brown as rich as rye whiskey… but what was most special was the spiraling vines that decorated his ears like fine jewelry and how the freckles that ornamented his skin had a bark-like texture to them.

“Mark!” The red-haired hunter from earlier yelled, waving his hand excitedly. He immediately ceased the eager movements when Siphony served him a white-hot glare, “Sorry…”

“Damn fucking right, you’re sorry…” the witch muttered, turning back to Mark. He had pulled you up, not with his hand, but by conjuring a vine to yank you to your feet. The woman’s eye twitched, clearly irked, “As far as I know, you are not involved in this affair.”

“Too bad,” Mark sighed, retaining his carefree vibe, “I made myself involved.”

“Like I said, this does not involve you! Get your irritating ass out of here before I banish you to oblivion, flower boy!”

Mark whittled, “Do you have to be so mean?”

You could hear the men at the top of the hill laughing at his statement, making the air crackle as the witch’s final nerve burned out, “Leave. Now.”

Mark smiled, “Will do.”

The sound of a thousand claps of thunder reverberated throughout the entire forest as the air seemed to condense into something thicker, more materialistic. It was like a mirage, splinters rising from nowhere to form a wall of bark, wood, and whatever got caught along with it. Leafy vines weaved between the chaotic mass, straightening it out into a pattern only nature could achieve.

“How did you… who…” You stuttered, “What are you?”

The corners of his lips drew a mischievous smile and he gestured with his thumb to the organic wall, “Apparently I’m a flower boy.”

A sound broke the air. A loud, enraged yell that devolved into a piercing screech more violent than a lion’s roar. The witch was furious, the poor scouts yelling apologies in order to save their own hide.

Mark cringed and took your hand, “You should run if you wish to live. I’ve known her for quite a few centuries… She doesn’t have a low mortality rate, so to speak.”

“I’d like to live but I can’t run,” You hobbled on your limp, injured leg, “I’m hurt.”

“Well that’s an issue…” He sighed, pursing his lips before perking up, thin eye brows adorably lifted, “I’ll carry you!”

“I-I’d rather-“

Before you could protest, a couple of vines harassed you up onto his back, forcing you to cling to the taller boy.  He was warm, the feel of his skin all natural and fresh like you thought it would be. He flashed a charming smile over his shoulder, tea rose lips parted in a thought-stopping way. You couldn’t even remember what you were going to say.

“Now I know,” You thought as you looked at Marks mysterious, charming smile, “Now I know why I stole that spell.”


This was really fucking fun to write o h m y g o d