Eye contact averse autistic Jonathan Sims is so underappreciated as an idea for how pervasive autistic Jon Sims headcanons are.
Like. twisted irony, its funny as fuuck but also. Imagine him in season 5 having to stare into the eyes of the Avatars as he ceaseless watcher death blasts them. And its such a viceral sensation because not only is he absolutely exhausting himself using his powers, but hes also putting all his energy into keeping eye contact despite the fact it feels like its killing him becuase otherwise it just wont work.
Anyways Elias with slit eyes whos a perpetual starer vs Jon whos got the massivest peepers and will NOT look at you unless its to kill you. Two different types of cats. To me.
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Thinking about insectoid/bug furry/exoskeletal alien beauty standards.
So, I don't THINK even a human-scale exoskeletal being would get acne, so that's off the table, but maybe there's a thing about having a perfect exoskeletal texture in some species? Filling in small divets with some kind of paste, sanding down any unseemly lumps.
Of course, this would only be relevant for species whose exoskeleton isn't adapted specifically to have a bunch of protrusions. In the opposing direction, I would assume there would be enhancements for said protrusions-- prosthetics, lengtheners, etc.
Interested if anyone has thoughts about this! Idk how viable sanding down your own exoskeleton would be tbh, it sounds like it has potential to be painful...but then again, beauty is pain, isn't it?
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gaz is out of commission after a rough mission. a broken arm, some bruised ribs, and a minor concussion have left him on bed rest in a hospital close to base. he gets visits daily, from his sister who happens to live nearby, and from price, ghost, and soap, keeping him up to date with the happenings at work.
the recruits are a pain in the arse, as always, soap tells him. price lets him know that there's no update on makarov at the moment, but laswell is chasing a potential lead, so fingers crossed. but ghost, after he's asked how gaz is feeling, usually just sits there, reading a book. not that gaz is complaining, because, if he asks, ghost will tell him what's happening in the story.
he apprciates it all, their comraderie, their care for him. they don't have to visit him so much, with their busy schedules, but they do, and he treasures their relationships.
it's ghosts 'turn' to sit with him for the day. they don't actually hold any sort of consistent order for when they visit him, but price said that one time, and it's stuck. ghost had walked into gaz's room with two apples and sat down on the chair to gaz's left. he immediately pulled out a mean looking knife - how he was able to get that thing through the hospital to his room, gaz has no idea - and starts slicing the first apple.
"how'r you faring then?"
"horribly, sir," gaz tells him. he's said this every day since he's been admitted. he's not really doing horribly. well, not physically, at least. sure, his ribs still ache, but he's mainly just bored out of his mind.
"mm, you don't look too good."
seems ghost is over his pessimism. "how kind you are to me."
ghost tuts, and holds out a slice of apple for him.
"what's this?"
"an apple, garrick, you're not that far gone, are you?"
"oh, full of jokes today, huh? obviously i'm asking why you're cutting me up an apple like you're my mum."
"ought not to question your mother so much, hm? just take it."
so gaz does. he's never one to turn down fresh fruit. through his chewing, gaz thanks ghost. ghost hums in acknowledgement, and there's silence as gaz eats. once he's done, ghost cuts and hands him another slice.
ghost breaks the silence after a bit. "it's weird, you know that?"
"what is?"
"your addiction to apples."
"i'm not addicted."
"no?" ghost challenges. "you eat at least one every day."
"what are you even paying that much attention for?" gaz questions.
"can learn a whole lot from observation." ghost shrugs as he hands him another slice.
"yeah? from eating habits?" gaz takes the offered slice.
"like you wouldn't believe." ghost is obviously joking. okay, maybe it's not obvious, gaz isn't soap, with his eerie ability to read ghost's jokes and moods like an open book with size 60 font, but he's getting there. and he's pretty sure ghost is joking right now. so he chuckles and says, "you're full of it."
ghost waves his knife in gaz's direction. "watch yourself, sargeant," he says, eyes crinkled slightly, pleased that gaz understood he was joking.
ghost is a little weird like that, gaz thinks. he's subtle and dry with his humour, leaving it up to others to figure out if he's serious or not, and he always seems pleased when people get he's joking. maybe it's his way of being seen. gaz is assuming now, he knows, but he's got nothing else to do, cooped up in this room. he enjoys trying to decipher the way his friends work every now and then. he feels he understands them better this way.
"why'r you fueling my addiction then?" gaz jokes back, "you obviously disapprove of my habits."
ghost doesn't answer. instead, after a minute or so, he asks, "you want another slice?"
"yes please."
he's hit with a wave of appreciation for ghost in that moment. he's found somewhat of a family in this team, and he'll value it for as long as they're able to work together.
