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#I’m starting to think I should start writing my ideas somewhere but my ADHD will make me forget where I wrote it
hannahyesss · 3 months
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Last year was a remarkable one for me. I started a new career that I love and find challenging and rewarding. I fell in love with exercise and gave up feeling guilty about eating, and now I’m getting into the best shape of my life. I turned thirty. I jumped back into writing fanfiction and drawing fan art. I made new friends (and gave up on some friendships). And I’m poor as hell because I spent a month in Europe during the summer, and my school district hates teachers! But honestly, I’m so happy to be here. We’re already a week into the new year, and I can really sense that this is going to be a tough one, yet I feel ready to take it on.
Instead of a New Year’s Resolution, each year, I pick a word or theme. Every time I have a choice, I ask myself: which action would align with my overall values for the year? My theme last year was “Health.” Mental, physical, emotional, etc. I’d ask myself “Is this healthy for me?” Should I take a solo trip to Portugal? Should I eat pastries for breakfast? Should I go for a run? (The answer to all of these was yes.)
Here is how I embodied “Health” in 2023.
I had ADHD for nearly thirty years and didn’t know it. In that time, I graduated from high school and college and earned my graduate degree. When I reflect on how I achieved these things without the slightest idea I had a combination type ADHD, there are two things that stand out to me.
First, for most of my life, my anxiety has been debilitating and has kept me on track in a very rigid, uncomfortable way. Fearing that I would miss a deadline, my brain used to cycle through checks almost compulsively—which assignment is due? Did I pay my doctor’s bill? Do I have enough money in the bank? I was always at least twenty minutes early to everything because I was terrified of being late. I did my homework in class during work time because I didn’t want to bring it home and forget. (I was also very lucky that I took naturally to traditional education—I had good teachers in high school, but the curriculum was also very easy for me.)
Anxiety is an excellent mask for ADHD—but the cost is constant exhaustion.
Second, I have always gravitated towards jobs that keep me on my feet and running around solving problems. I managed a retail boutique for about five years which suited my ADHD very, very well. I was never involved with a task for more than fifteen minutes at a time. If I’m creating a book order and a customer walks in, I’ve got to stop my current task for a short amount of time and come back to it. I could always switch my brain very easily from one task to the next. Very stimulating! I’m a teacher now, and it’s basically the same thing.
By 2019, however, my anxiety had become so unmanageable that I couldn’t look at my bank account, I couldn’t keep my apartment clean, and I couldn’t even begin to think about doing laundry. I began working with my therapist specifically on getting my anxiety under control. It was really hard work! It involved identifying triggers and sitting with exceptionally uncomfortable feelings without judgment of myself. The story of getting a firm handle on anxiety is fairly long, so I’ll skip over several years of work to say that my anxiety is manageable now.
It took years, but my constant state of high energy anxiety has calmed significantly. While this is good, I had no idea what it was masking. ADHD symptoms began to take over my life. I cried all the time because I kept losing my phone or I set my keys down somewhere stupid or I was starting to be late to everything. Laundry was even more of a herculean task and keeping my apartment clean was a constant battle. Tackling anxiety with my therapist helped me see that untidiness is not a moral issue, but damn! I was still frustrated that I tripped over stuff or that my clothes were never clean! My therapist started squinting at me as these problems cropped up, and eventually, they were like, “These are fairly classic ADHD symptoms.”
I really, really resisted this diagnosis. I had been fine fine fine for my whole life. I have a Master’s degree! I’m a teacher! If it’s hard for me to do laundry, it’s just because I don’t like doing laundry. If it’s hard for me to brush my teeth twice a day, it just means I’m a person with poor hygiene. And the thing is, I was completely capable of doing these things. I did them all the time! It’s just that I felt so tired, and it was just a matter of forcing myself to get it done. After all, does anyone really like doing chores?
“But I don’t think you understand how much harder you’re working to do them,” my therapist argued.
“It’s hard for everyone,” I remember saying.
“Right, but for the ADHD brain, you have to use a lot more energy to get started and to get finished the things you don’t want to do.”
All right, fine. That might be true.
So I started to accept that I miiiiiight have ADHD. My mom was shocked when I told her and insisted she didn’t remember me bouncing around or having trouble keeping up with assignments in school. (Except that wasn’t…actually true. I had a gazillion late assignments in elementary school but then I switched from private school to public in sixth grade, and school became much easier. I could keep up because I was usually finished before other kids.)
But diagnosis seemed impossible. I didn’t want to go through the whole debacle of setting up a doctor’s appointment, calling insurance, finding someone to assess me, yada yada yada. (Side note: the cruelest thing to do to a person with undiagnosed ADHD is to make them jump through a lot of administrative hoops to get to their diagnosis. Which is exactly what you have to do.)
At the same time, my sister was going through her own journey of getting an ADHD diagnosis. However, when she began treatment for ADHD, I wasn’t particularly surprised because her behaviors looked much more like classic symptoms to me. She went on meds as soon as she could and told me that it just felt like she wasn’t so tired anymore. That she could just… do things. And like, yeah, speed can do that for a person. But honestly, I was thinking I could use some controlled substances to boost my brain energy if they’d give them to me.
By the time I was able to get in with a psychologist, I was already most of the way through my first year as a teacher. I couldn’t sit through curriculum planning meetings without getting lost in the conversation, I couldn’t keep my mind focused during my own lesson planning, and I couldn’t fucking grade papers for more than ten minutes at a time. Damn, though, I was really good at pretending I was a well-functioning adult. I can lie my ass off, and I am a fairly good actor, so I was terrified the psychologist was going to tell me that it wasn’t ADHD—I’m just lazy and dumb and I need to try harder.
Shockingly, this is not what he told me. He said I have combined type ADHD which means hyperactive and inattentive. Hilariously, he said since Covid started, he has seen a huge influx of teachers getting diagnosed. It’s a job that attracts ADHD types because you’re never doing the same thing for long and it’s just constant stimulation. (I was chatting with a fellow teacher friend about it who also has ADHD—two other teacher friends overheard our conversation, grimaced at each other, and muttered that they might need to make appointments with their doctors too…)
Pretty soon I started meds, and it was life-changing. I realized that I was using food for stimulation for most of my life which was why it was so fucking hard to keep a healthy weight. I can now run longer distances because I’m not sabotaging myself by constantly remembering how bored I am or how much I want to stop. Grading papers still sucks but I can now grade for a few hours at a time, take well-planned breaks, and then jump back into it. Although not officially designated a symptom of ADHD, my Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is much more manageable. I’m not constantly critiquing myself in the mirror anymore.
It’s truly been fascinating to see these changes in the last six months.
That’s not to say I’m cured or things are super great all the time. Laundry is still a struggle and I spent most of my weekend just lounging around the apartment (and called it rest). Last week, I increased my Adderall dosage to 15mg because what worked in the summer when I’m off work is NOT enough during the school year. In any case, I’ve been reflecting on how my diagnosis has helped me to see areas of growth in my life. Instead of “oh, I’m just an impulsive shopper,” it’s more like, “Oh, you are very susceptible to targeted ads. Let’s be cognizant of that and create a check system that helps you decide if you really need to buy that thing.”
I’ve learned that ADHD is NOT an excuse. I do NOT get to opt out hard things because of neurodivergence (I mean, sometimes yeah, I do, but not all the time, lol). Instead, it’s been a fun challenge to assess what I feel like I can’t do and figure out a way to trick my brain or work with my cute little weirdo brain to get shit done. I love puzzles! And damn if my brain isn’t one huge puzzle.
So here’s my advice: there is no such thing as laziness. If your problem is that you think you’re lazy, but since laziness doesn’t exist, it has to be something else. It could be ADHD—it could also be that you expect someone else to do the thing for you or that you’re depressed or that doing that thing you’re ignoring just isn’t something you care about.
Keep reflecting and remembering that you are not static.
Book recommendation: How to Keep House While Drowning by KC Davis
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I'm not going to write the joeleksi hurt fic but I can tell you about another scenario hjhj.
I was going to say maybe Joonas or Olli for this one but you can also imagine Joeleksi I guess, wkth his parents kind of refusing to treat him as an adult as soon as he lives at their place for a few days when he visits, e.g. saying he should go to sleep earlier (they saw the light on in his room late at night), and he should eat dinner with them (doesn't matter that he's not hungry right now), and who was he out with and what did they do and even now that he's here he's never here and he never calls them or invites them to his place, and is he sure he picked the right career (okay maybe not aleksi then, since his father's their manager) and doesn't he want to do courses somewhere to get some real qualifications, and it's so sad he didn't study law/medicine instead, and he should eat or drink this and that because it has a lot of x ingredient that c l e a r l y he needs more of, and so on and so on. So he's of course pissed off and angry and his vacation/visit isn't relaxing at all and he goes to vent to his friend about being treated like a child at x age etc. Not sure if that falls into your category of hurt but hey 🤔
(One day I will write my Olli vent fic but not anytime soon I think. I think you'll like it though, sometime in five years or so)
Naww, but Jess, why won't you do that for me :( (I'm joking).
Just throwing an idea out there, but idk, are you sure I should write this, and not you, who is literally going through all of this?😅
I mean most of this hits close to home, so I don’t know if I would even want to write this because thinking about all of it makes me angry and therefore not capable of getting it out without you know, feeling all that irritiation, and I’m rather the type to supress their feelings, thanks😄
Not to make this about Joeleksi, but I think with Joel having ADHD it’s easy for his parents to make him out to be a child who can’t live on its own and needs uncalled for comments and suggestions left and right (just this week I thought about some stuff my parents did with my brother where I thought wtf after years of being educated on that illness you should know better but I guess not, but also, not implying anything about Joel’s real parents here okay). But his friends definitely know what he’s capable of so whoever it is in this scenario would be great at comforting him and showing him that he indeed can do all on his own in case Joel starts doubting himself once the inital anger ebbs up.
But maybe Olli would be good too because he has graduated from uni (or the musical equivalent, y’all know what I mean), but then decides to be in a band, so there’s lot of friction it could create between him and his parents regarding his job choices and his future. And omg are you taking care of yourself on tour? Do you get enough to dink and eat? Are you safe in [insert country]?
Or also Joonas. Who has a personality that could be described as too girly by the generation before us, so his parents who never really understood him try to control him in other ways and never see him as the grown up person he is and think every choice he makes is the wrong one because in their eyes he doesn’t behave like an adult.
So many possibilities. Anyone hurt someone, please, thanks😊
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louloukeddie · 1 year
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How can someone so intelligent be so stupid?
Why you shouldn’t under-estimate the ‘scatterbrains and space-cadets’, and how we should make peace with being different – even when it leads to awkward moments, like kissing a client’s nose. 
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“How can someone so intelligent be so stupid?” This was the question I was asked in class, by a boy with a mono-brow in the seat behind me. His words have stayed with me – all of my life.
It is a question I often ask myself. Skip forward 35 years, and mono-brow boy was replaced by a grown man asking: “How did you get a job like that?” Perhaps he was inquiring out of genuine curiosity. Perhaps I am over-sensitive. But something tells me that what he meant to say was: “how does someone like you, get a job like that.” 
At 50 years old, it is time to put the record straight. I am intelligent, I have a successful career as an editor of a medical magazine, I am well-regarded in my professional life and I’m regularly head-hunted by leading journals in my field. I am even well-organised, in my work life (I love a list), but I have inattentive ADHD.
To explain what that feels like, perhaps I can offer you an analogy – if my brain was an island, it would be “bloody Ibiza” (apologies to Nick Hornby for shamelessly mis-appropriating a quote from his awesome book, About a Boy). 
In ‘Louise’s World’ (as my husband sometimes calls it), it is permanently ‘club night’. To use the Ibiza analogy, there are hot, sweaty bodies jumping up and down to 1990s trance soundtracks, until 6am, and then the clubbing starts all over again – Ad infinitum. It can be noisy and distracting, there is no chill out room, but I can also channel this ‘wired’ energy into creative projects, brain-storming new ideas or writing 80-pages of prose – without having to pee. 
However, what people see on the outside is a ‘scatterbrain’, a ‘space-cadet’, a ‘dreamer’, or any of the other labels that people give for people with undiagnosed inattentive ADHD. 
On meeting me for the first time, you wouldn’t guess that I have forged a career in writing for surgeons and other highly educated healthcare professionals – despite not having a background in medicine. 
In my role, I have had to quickly grasp an understanding of pathology, physiology, biomedical engineering, infectious diseases, robotic surgery, decontamination science, best practice in surgery, artificial intelligence, the political healthcare landscape, and much more… Not bad for a comprehensive-school kid that struggled to hand in their homework on time. 
I am expressive, articulate and fluid in the written word in a way that I am not with the spoken word, however. I hesitate, using filler words like ‘erm’ or ‘um’ when I speak, as I try and organise my rapid-fire, distractable thoughts. This can give the appearance of seeming unconfident or unsure of what I am saying – which sometimes leads to situations (as I have alluded to before) where I am belittled or misunderstood. But never under-estimate a woman with ADHD, or anyone else with ADHD for that matter. What you get on the outside is not necessarily what you get on the inside.
We may be absent minded or appear to be in a dream-like state, on occasions, but do not mistake our outward ‘vagueness’ with a lack of mental capacity or sharpness. When your brain is on fast-forward, sometimes it is hard to focus on the details in the outside world. But no amount of shouting to “remember to bring the right stuff”, “do our homework on time”, or “pay attention”, is going to cure us. In fact, in the right environment, our differences can have significant advantages. 
My ability to hyperfocus (one of ADHD’s ‘superpowers’) makes me a workaholic – my productivity levels can be off the chart when I’m interested in the task in hand. I rarely default to the obvious and I often think outside the box – I’m not even sure I have a box. If I ever had one, I probably put it somewhere and cannot remember where I left it – it is likely to be in the same place I left my car keys, passport, and glasses, which I misplace on a regular basis. 
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When I write, my brain makes unexpected connections; it fuels my creativity and I thrive on having several stories on the boil at a time. My synapses fire at lightning speed and all at once – but I have so many ideas that it can feel like a firework factory; someone has crept in, lit a match, and the result is explosive, effervescent fizzes of creative expression – bouncing off walls and illuminating the darkest recesses of my mind. It is noisy, chaotic, and beautiful all at once. And sometimes it just gives me a headache… 
For this reason, my mouth can struggle to keep up – I need time to process my thoughts. As a result, public speaking is my Achilles heel and my brain can take a vacation mid-sentence, without warning. I avoid public speaking at all costs…or I stick to a script. My distractibility also means that when I am talking to you, I am thinking about lots of other things. I don’t mean to, but I can tune out during conversation – I mask this by telling people “I’m a bit deaf” and asking them to repeat themselves. I even convinced myself of this for a while… 
However, when I first lived with my husband, he suggested that I should get my hearing tested. I often didn’t hear him – but of course, I passed the test with perfect hearing. At that time, I didn’t have any answers for why I didn’t always hear people when they were talking to me – it felt like a character flaw. I didn’t realise that this is the experience of most people with ADHD – maintaining focus is a challenge unless we are, well, really focused; we don’t mean to appear rude and disinterested. Our attention is like an untrained puppy – running off to chase butterflies when you are trying to make it sit. 
Despite the label of ‘inattentive’ ADHD, the issue is not simply one of inattention; often we show ‘too much attention’. Confusing, isn’t it? When I’m razor focused on one thing, time, noise, boiling kettles, tedious tasks all become sucked into a magical black hole and disappear. In the right context, this can give me a competitive edge – I can write solidly for long periods of time; I’m completely zoned in on my work. In the wrong context, it is extremely frustrating for others, who feel unheard. 
My creative output can be supercharged and my ‘off’ switch is broken, which means I have never missed a deadline. While I am hyperfocused on my work, the laundry backs up and my desk frequently looks like it’s been ransacked by MI5 looking for secret documents. 
It also means I can feel burnt out and over-whelmed – I often work long hours and don’t know how to stop. I mask the feeling of being overwhelmed in my professional life, but not so well in the privacy of my own home. This is why I like profanity…a lot. I try not to use it in the wrong company, and it isn’t directed at individuals, but a hearty exclamation of “for fuck’s sake!” is just what I need…It was what swearing was invented for, after all. Add emotional dysregulation on top of a magazine deadline and it can get very sweary indeed. 
Another feature of ADHD, which has brought unexpected benefits, is my constant need for variety – I like to juggle lots of different tasks, which is just as well, as my chosen career means I am constantly searching out the next new story. I can be simultaneously writing, replying to emails, and planning the next edition, which means that every possible tab is open on my laptop…just as it is in my brain. 
Getting a diagnosis 
Over the years, I have found ways to overcome the many hurdles put in my path by ADHD, so it is only now that I have sought to understand some of my ‘idiosyncrasies’… I have managed. I have coped. I have even succeeded. 
But recently I have started to see a shift. Lower levels of dopamine, which drive ADHD symptoms, have combined with the double whammy of menopause – impacting dopamine levels even further. Oestrogen has driven off into the sunset in a menstrual-red, convertible sportscar – signalling the start of a mid-life crisis and taking with it the flimsy veil that I have been wearing to mask my ADHD, most of my life. 
My once manageable ADHD has become much harder to manage. I have lost count of the number of cups of tea I have promised to my husband, only to become distracted – leaving the boiled kettle sat in its resting place to grow cold. I have felt increasingly overwhelmed, as I juggle competing demands of work, raising a family, organising a household, managing finances, and other things that people seem to take in their stride – like filling out forms. Nothing is guaranteed to see me swear more profusely than having to complete a long form online or waiting in a call centre loop, listening to ‘Greensleeves’, with lots of automated options to choose from. 
So, I decided to seek a diagnosis and hopefully some great drugs to calm my brain and (with any luck) shrink my middle-aged waistline as a side benefit too. Lots of obsessive viewing of You Tube, Ted Talks and ADHD websites meant that I already had most of the answers – I just needed someone to confirm whether I had ADHD, was losing my marbles, feeling depressed and dissatisfied with life, or whether I was simply a hormonal mess. So, I called my GP and told her what I suspected – that I had undiagnosed ADHD – and waited for her to scoff at the end of the phone. But she didn’t. 
Instead, she referred me to a mental health nurse who asked me to complete a very long questionnaire – ironically for a condition that makes completing questionnaires really bloody annoying. She agreed, it was highly likely that I had ADHD and that she had spoken to a number of women who had also masked their ADHD extremely well, most of their lives, until the menopause made it more challenging. 
However, she explained that it would be at least two years before I could get an appointment to be seen by a professional that would be able to offer a firm diagnosis and prescribe life-changing medication to adjust the balance of chemicals in my brain. 
Dopamine is crucial for concentration or sustained attention, working memory and motivational processes in the brain and acts as a transmitter between brain cells. Some researchers point to people with ADHD having lower levels of dopamine, while others suggest that the main cause of the disorder may lie in structural differences in the grey matter in the brain. While the reasons for ADHD are unclear, what we do know is that ADHD medication targets dopamine and can have positive effects in improving ADHD symptoms. 
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“Great!” I thought, “Just give me the magic pills and I’ll be on my way.” So, I contacted a private psychiatrist and made an appointment. After all, I have ADHD and waiting isn’t something I do well. Two weeks later (and a thousand pounds out of pocket), I had the diagnosis I had waited for…it took over 50 years to be recognised. 
So, how did I get to 50 with nobody noticing that I have ADHD? Extracts from my old school reports provided lots of clues: “Louise really must learn to organise herself”; “she must overcome her tendency to be absent-minded”, and “It has been a long time since I have met such a disorganised pupil.” 
I wrote on my hand in pen to remember equipment, carried scruffy papers around in a Co-op carrier bag, and would focus on one thing that really excited me to the exclusion of everything else – why didn’t anyone show any curiosity as to why I struggled in this way or try and offer some practical support? 
Why ADHD gets missed 
The answer perhaps lies in the perception of ADHD as being a stereotyped presentation of a young boy ‘bouncing off the walls’, unable to sit still. This means girls often slip ‘under radar’. We are just starting to wake up to the idea that girls have ADHD too, but it often looks very different to ADHD in boys. The “space cadets”, “dreamers” and the “ditsy” do not cause disruption or raise red flags in the classroom, so they go undiagnosed. 
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Impulsiveness can also look different in girls – as a child, impulsivity revealed itself as being an annoying, precocious little show off. My sister, who had extraordinary patience, was often upstaged by me interrupting her performance of “Little Donkey” or a tap-dancing show – I was a giant pain in the ass. I also got sent home for being ‘too boisterous’ and for ‘not very ladylike behaviour’, which included making realistic plasticine turds for Sindy doll’s flushing toilet, throwing myself from the highest stair onto a pile of teddy bears to see how high I could dare to go without breaking any limbs, and an obsessive attempt at breaking the world record for pogo jumping, which resulted in a blister the size of a tennis ball. 
In grown women, however, impulsivity can present as shopping to excess, living beyond one’s means, spending too much, drinking too much, eating too much, and changing boyfriends like most people change their underwear. My dating track record was starting to look more like the Guinness book of records, until I met my husband, who made me laugh – the best dopamine hit of all. 
However, ADHD can make you flit from one relationship to another, chasing the eternal dopamine ‘fizz’ of first romance. Boredom and stability are like Kryptonite for women with ADHD. This meant I dated some unsuitable party boys who never grew up – despite hitting the dopamine reward centre for excitement and fun, they were never going to make reliable fathers or husbands. In my pursuit of rollercoaster thrills, I dated a narcissist, a philanderer, an alcoholic, a coke addict, and a man who never wanted to go home from a party because there was “just one last banging tune” he wanted to listen to…until I was exhausted by it all. (I should take this opportunity to apologise to some of the ‘nice boys’ who were left wondering what they did wrong. It actually wasn’t you; it really was me.) 
Women with inattentive ADHD have ‘floordrobes’, unopened bills, half-finished projects, financial debt, and a-million-and-one-things on the go, at any one time. Our emotional regulation is reminiscent of the song by Crowded House: “Even when you're feeling warm, the temperature could drop away – like four seasons in one day.” One minute I can be completely sanguine and the next I can completely lose my mind and dignity over an “oven timer” that requires a “sodding engineering degree to master”. 
Social awkwardness and anxiety 
Many people with ADHD also experience social anxiety and this has been the hardest challenge of all. As a small child, I remember sitting in an optician’s chair. The Pakistani optician had a strong accent, but I could understand him perfectly. However, when bored, listening to instructions, or feeling socially awkward, my brain would sometimes take a mini vacation, as I have already explained. 
So, as I sat in the chair staring at the letters, I did not hear what was being said. Impatiently, the optician asked me to recite the letters on the lightbox and, in the silence of the darkly lit room, faced by a rather brusque stranger, I felt paralysed by social awkwardness. My silence led to the optician rudely asking my mum if I was “retarded” or “simple”. 
Even in the early 1980s, pre-wokeness, this was an ignorant thing for an adult to say, in front of a child. But this prompted my mother to launch into a haughty retort that: “She can’t understand your bloody thick accent!” What was an already awkward moment, escalated into an even more awkward moment of political incorrectness and we left without a pair of glasses, with steam coming out of my mother’s ears. 
I got better at hiding my social anxiety as I got older, but it still provided some awkward moments, as I entered the working world, in my early twenties. As an assistant editor on a business-to-business trade magazine, I was tasked with attending an awards dinner at the Grosvenor Hotel – celebrating the great and the good at the Electrical Industry awards. We were onto the 20th round of applause for innovation (in this case, an ‘exciting’ development in Busbar technology). 
I had discovered, early on, that fewer people drink red wine at awards dinners, so it is always a good option to opt for the red. Therefore, I was three-quarters into a bottle of cheap Merlot when our biggest-spending advertiser walked up to my table and caught my eye. 
“Louise!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, bending down to go in for the French ‘Faire la bise’ on both cheeks. 
It is bad enough having to kiss business acquaintances at all, but for someone who is socially awkward, not knowing if someone is going for both cheeks or one, can cause all sorts of anxiety and confusion. 
It is a mystery how we came to the decision to kiss strangers, after years of frosty, socially distanced handshaking, but what is worse is the uncertainty around whether we are going to kiss the English way or be ‘European’. This can lead to both parties darting around in a confused clash of moist lips… Frankly, in a post-Brexit era, double cheek kissing should be banned. 
However, I was feeling the effects of the wine and suddenly this big spending, big shot was lunging towards me. I started to rise from my seat to go in for a one-cheek plant, but he didn’t get the memo and, half-way in, I realised my mistake – we were going in for a two-kiss greeting. Being slightly off balance, I planted a kiss right on the end of his nose with a very loud ‘smack’. 
I don’t know who was more shocked – me or him. While most people would apologise, my mind simply froze, and the right words failed to come. Instead, I feigned an air of nonchalance – as if kissing a client on the nose was the most normal thing in the world.
You mean you don’t kiss people on the nose? How weird? Doesn’t everyone, these days? Kissing both cheeks is so last year… 
Ultimately, none of the challenges I have described look like the fidgety boy who cannot sit still. There is a lost generation of undiagnosed women in adulthood, who go through life with low self-esteem, unsure why the small stuff makes them feel they are failing at life. 
Simple tasks can feel like mountains to climb – remembering anniversaries, making dinner without using 10 different pans, memorising verbal directions, walking into a supermarket and buying what is actually on the list – or tidying a room and getting lost in a Pinterest rabbit hole looking for craft ideas. These are the many things that I struggle with. My life is generally filled with low-level chaos, saved only by colour-coded post-it notes and ‘to do’ lists. 
Medication 
So here I am – sitting with a bottle of pills that I am told will change my life. At last, I can be fixed! “It will be like putting on glasses for the first time,” one person wrote on an ADHD forum. But the thing is, now I’m not sure that I still want to be fixed. I’m not broken; I’m different. 
The thing about chaos is that it is unpredictable and exciting. Women with ADHD can be creative, innovative, driven, and spontaneous. But after trialling three different bottles of pills, at various titration doses, my brain feels much slower. It feels like walking through treacle. I feel relaxed and it is an unfamiliar sensation. But it doesn’t feel like wearing glasses. I don’t feel like myself. Maybe the dose needs to be tweaked? Maybe it is the wrong type of medication? Maybe if I keep trying different pills, I will find the sweet spot and suddenly feel ‘normal’? 
Over the years, I have felt ‘too lazy’, ‘too disorganised’, ‘too flaky’, ‘too stupid’. But, for the first time, it occurs to me that perhaps I should learn to like myself the way I am. I am the woman that spent two month’s building a Santa’s grotto for the kids in my rural village hall, with giant snowmen fashioned from plastic bins, beachball heads and cottonwool snow. In a frenzy of creativity, I lived and breathed Christmas – the house was filled with glitter, man-sized candy canes, and my husband had to step over an enormous, gold-painted sleigh to answer the front door. I spent far too much; many of the other school mums thought I had lost my mind. But, on that day, the kids whispered in earnest voices: “This is the REAL Santa, not one of those fake ones.” And that is what makes ADHD just a little bit wonderful...
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autistic-frog-wizard · 9 months
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i’ve been dealing with insomnia for as long as i can remember but it’s amped up a lot in the past 2 years and i want to moan about it cos it is the fucking worst
TW - insomnia (intense depiction of)
you may think that having more time in your day is good. it is not. why? this isn’t time you can actually use. this is the time you’re supposed to be resting. i went to bed somewhere around 5-6 hours ago. 3am is…actually pretty reasonable for me. definitely better than 5am or 6am and far more likely than 1am. however, i’ve not slept.
growing up it was a hell of a lot milder. a mix of procrastination and simply taking forever to fall asleep. split custody meant 2 different methods of dealing - at my mum’s i’d sneak a book into bed and read until i was tired. then i’d build stories in my head, and quietly run through them. sometimes i’d redo a scene, slightly to the left and with different lighting. at my dad’s…stick on an audiobook and hope for the best.
hilariously, the place that caused my insomnia gave me a pretty good coping mechanism. weird, right? as an adult i’ve kept elements of both, although i usually use music instead of an audiobook. audiobooks are reserved for those times where my mind forgets it likes music, i’m extra stressed and need something more nostalgic in feel, or i could potentially disturb another person (such as sharing a hotel room with someone). i’ve also learnt those stories were in fact maladaptive daydreams. they’ve grown with me, sometimes they shift every few months a bit, but they’ve stuck around. it’s just instead of it being the creations of a scared 9 year old, it’s a depressed 21 year old in charge, and one who’s probably quite annoyed at the fact they’re still conscious.
usually it’ll take me an hour or two between going to bed and going to sleep, always has, but when it hits about 3 hours i start resigning myself to the fact it’s not happening. when it hits 4 hours, i just give up. it’s not gonna happen, and there’s no point in laying in bed getting angry about the fact i should be asleep but for some infernal reason am not. this used to be a rarity. now it’s becoming more and more common.
the main side of my insomnia is usually more tolerable - simply keeping me awake and unbothered by blissful ideas of unconsciousness until somewhere around the 4-5am mark where i’ll start thinking “i should go to bed”. this is fine, since i can actually DO something until then. recently that’s been an art project, but it’s also included uni work, video games, other art projects, making dnd characters and more. sometimes i just doomscroll, but those are usable hours. this is part straight inability to sleep and part violent time blindness from my ADHD, and sometimes a little bit of hyperfocus pops up. i’ve certainly used this kind of sleepless night to my advantage before (i had several in 2 weeks to write the majority of my undergrad dissertation), and when i ended up pulling full all-nighters purely by accident, i would likely pass out the following afternoon and get a few blissful hours of sleep.
tonight…was not that. this is far worse. i felt tired a little earlier than usual, likely because my sleep issues snapped violently back the other way (as mine usually do - for any period of sleeplessness i can expect a period of extreme tiredness, where i’ll spend worrying amounts of time asleep. like…12-14 hours. this doesn’t usually last more than a couple of nights) 5 days ago, and…as far as i was aware, i was still in that state. however, as i was going up to bed i realised i needed to get my laundry up. then that i should probably put it away somewhere so i could get the other dirty clothes into the basket. then that in order to do that, i had to rearrange the suitcase i’m living out of whilst at my parents. this took about an hour, and woke me up a little bit, but not really. so i finished that, went back to my little routine, and switched out the lights.
i tried every trick in the book. every. single. one. i. know. none worked. i thought it was fine for a bit - it’s been taking me a little longer recently - but it wasn’t coming. and the worst thing is that the harder you try, the harder it is to actually fucking sleep.
i watched the light start entering my room through the blinds. stared as i was able to see more of my room, then the colours of the books on the shelves and the bedsheets the clothes on the rail. all with my eyes oh so painfully open when all i wanted was for them to be shut. my brain kicked back in to gear when all i wanted was for it to turn off.
“maybe i could have a nice early shower?” and wake my mum and deal with that fight? no thanks. “do some art!” haha fuck no. wrong kind of sleeplessness for that. “go make a coffee?” but what if it does come? what if i can sleep and i just need 15 more minutes? “get up and walk around?” that never works for me, that just wakes me up again, which is the last thing i need. “read a book?” all the books i actually LIKE are currently sat in 3 carrier bags in the spider-infested garage. also that would lead to either the light coming on, waking me up, or me straining my eyes, getting a headache, and being kept up by that.
all this waiting for nothing. all this for jack shit. no rest for my mind, no time for my body to attempt to put itself back together as it inevitably slowly falls apart under the crushing weight of simply existing. no signals to my stomach to tell it that the amount of acid it’s producing is frankly unnecessary and thoroughly unwanted. all with the knowledge that my alarms will go off in 3 hours time and i will not have slept.
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raenparade · 1 year
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10/12 - Working Space and Methodologies
At the end of October, in one of our lectures we all discussed our working methods/space and what we think of them. We all had to take a picture of our desk at the time without cleaning it, and this was mine:
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At the time my desk would most likely consist of:
Laptop/Laptop Stand
Graphics Tablet and/or Screen Tablets
Notepads
Tourbox Neo Editing Controller
Snacks/Random Crap
We also discussed pros/cons of our main work set up, and any changes we could make.
I have enough space for everything I need, too little space and it wouldn't function properly and too much - it would just end up being really cluttered. All the things I own are able to be moved pretty easily to suit whatever I'm working on. Using my tablet as a monitor is helpful when I'm writing or need more screen space to read and my laptop stand gives me a bit more room underneath without sacrificing precious desk space.
The desk isn't really a problem, it's more me! I get bored pretty quickly of the space I'm working in so I often feel like I need to switch it up. My brain will sometimes work fine one way for a week then suddenly it's not working, and it needs to be fixed now before I can bring myself to do anything else. It's mostly annoying because I can never tell when it's going to happen and can be really disruptive on a weekly or day-to-day basis.
I'm lucky enough to have a nice-sized living room with a dining table that I am able to work at should I want to. I'm also used to working on the floor or on my bed (even if it's not very good for my posture). I'll find myself drifting into my housemate's bedroom sometimes, more to have a body double than anything, which is really effective at getting me to finally work. Eldon is also really close, so I think I'll start coming in here to work, as I really like how the desks are set up and can be moved around easily!
I do like my desk! It’s spacious enough, even if it’s smaller than my desk at my parent’s house. It’s somewhere to sit and produce work and I enjoy having it facing the window, people watching is rather satisfying. My problem is that I’ve found myself wanting to work elsewhere recently, which has gotten worse as the nights have drawn in. For some reason I don’t like the idea of just sitting at my own desk all day, even if I am productive and get lots done. I feel like I should do this a little bit more, as when it comes to making art I prefer my set up most of all. The facilities in uni are more than fine! I’ve just gotten used to a certain way of working, and as I have to minimise decision making before I can work I usually just go with the easier option. Not always easier if you do want to avoid home, though.
I try to bounce around a lot, I love working in the Illustration studios, they’re spacious and there’s enough people to feel like there is some energy in there but you can also knuckle down and do a lot of work. I’ve even brought my tablet and everything in there before! I got quite a bit done! I’ve also taken my setup to Open Access! Felt a bit wrong, even though I wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. I blended in with the Cintiqs in the room and I was honestly surprised no one said anything.
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It might sound like more effort, to bring everything to another building, instead of just working at home. On the surface, yes! But somewhere else I don’t have other distractions, and it scratches that itch I have to leave the house. I can set everything up relatively easily, and I’m lucky I don’t live too far. If I’m at home I’ll just get distracted by things in my room or procrastinate by doing chores or anything, and there’s not always someone to ‘body double’ with me.
Body doubling is an effective technique used by a lot of people, but works especially well with combating ADHD-induced procrastination. I’m not sure what it is about having someone else in a room or around you closely that means you get more done. If I am at home I do this with friends on a Discord call. I’m doing this right now, as I write this article! If I’m drawing, I’ll share my screen with a friend and they might nudge me if I go off track, but currently I’m listening to a podcast with a friend. I can sometimes just get work done by myself, with music, podcasts or video essays in the background. But us both listening to a podcast adds a sense of security, I think? Honestly, I also work pretty well in bed! I know people often say you shouldn’t blur the lines between work and rest areas, and I don’t disagree. However, I’ve readily accepted that I have to break a lot of conventions and subvert the way I work. If it works, it works! I try not to argue with my brain too much. I’ve learnt to not box myself in to certain expectations and working with my brain, not against it, has helped so much more than I thought before.
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Thanks to my IKEA Blahaj shark, Kenneth, for his contribution to my workspace.  
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dark-caffeine · 3 years
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Neon Virgil
I don’t have much to say, just that I forgot my original idea and that’s how I tried to fix it.
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I still hope you like it though!
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manekicatwriter · 3 years
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hellooo! i was wondering if i could make a request for an modern au sbi x gn sibling reader where they’re around 17-19, and they’ve got depression. they’ve had to go away for a few weeks after a bad episode ended in an attempt and they were hospitalized and sent somewhere for rehabilitation and now they’re coming home and they’re all anxious and quiet and stuff- so the boys do their best to like comfort them and reassure them that they’re loved and they belong there? i’m sorry if that’s an awkward request, i was just recently discharged after a similar situation and honestly the comfort would be great. it’s totally your call if you chose to write it tho, i understand that this is a difficult and triggering subject and not everyone is comfortable with writing things like it. if you aren’t comfy please feel free to just ignore my ask! <3
you’re here, and that’s what matters.
TW: mentions of attempted suicide. please proceed with caution.
hey! i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been through a similar situation and understand how you feel (though my case was not as severe). i wish you a safe road to recovery.
note, i think you asked for their characters but it leant itself towards their rl versions. i have a feeling the dsmp versions would be too chaotic for this sensitive subject.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! please do not be afraid to send in an ask. ANON IS ON!!
Phil:
- phil was very scared about you being so gravely hurt, it kept him up for some nights. thankfully, you pulled through.
- he visited whenever he could. if he couldn’t, he was busy making sure coming home felt as comfortable for you as possible while also educating himself on how to take care of you.
- phil would listen to how you felt, and be understanding of your feelings.
- “You don’t have to tell me why you did it, I’m just glad you’re here,” pulling you in for a warm hug.
- when you got back home, he made sure he and the boys had prepared your favorite dinner and desserts.
It was the day you had just got home from rehabilitation, and you two were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t said much, you felt like you had nothing to say. Phil had asked for you to sit down so you two could talk, one on one.
You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your voice started to crack. “For making you guys worry about me.” Tears started to form from your eyes and you wept into your hands.
Phil immediately reached over to you to hug you, letting you cry on his shoulder. “We don’t blame you. We don’t blame anybody. I just want you to be here safe with us. Let it all out.” He pat and rubbed your back soothingly as you kept crying. But it was a good cry. He was just glad you came home.
Tommy:
- even though many see tommy as a loud and obnoxious boy with a general disregard for others, we all know deep down that’s a persona. he will go out of his way to make other comfortable in his presence if he truly cares for them. which he does, for you of course.
- he wants to make you happy! when the time is right, he’ll crack jokes and offer to play minecraft with you.
- would tone down the yelling. not because you asked, but he’s afraid of triggering you. treats you like glass. if you notice he’s being quieter than usual and you don’t care, you tell him you don’t.
- if you’re feeling it, he’ll take you out to fun places and to eat. nothing that’s too outlandish like a theme park, but just enough to have a reason to get out of bed that day instead of sleeping in.
It had been a week since you had gotten home and Phil had instructed you to maintain somewhat of a schedule to upkeep yourself. Right now was your nightly routine, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, and finally sliding under the covers. It felt nice. The blanket of sleep consumes you easily…
Until you bedroom door opens you’re being aggressively shaken awake. You groan, shying away, but they’re persistent.
“Ey, wake up, it’s morning!” Tommy shakes you again.
You realize you didn’t dream, but think nothing of it. “Tommy please, what do you want.”
Finally, Tommy pulled your warm sheets from over you, making you flinch. “I wanted to go out to the park today! Feed the ducks! Yeesss!”
You sighed. If you didn’t comply now, Tommy will refuse to stop nagging you for the rest of the day. You rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. You could very clearly hear Tommy’s cheers.
You two had gotten ready, eaten breakfast, and said goodbye to the rest of your family so you could head over to the park. It was close enough that it wasn’t unbearable to walk to. Even if you weren’t completely yourself yet, you were glad Tommy was.
After the short walk you two finally reached the park. Tommy immediately bolted toward the pond and you jogged behind. He had already started throwing the ducks some seeds, and even threw it on a duck. It didn’t seem too pleased.
You two sat at the edge of the pond as you watched the ducks eat. “Hey.” You hear Tommy call to you, and you turn your head to him.
“Can we talk about what happened? With you? Is it okay?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.
“Go ahead, what is it?”
“When Techno found out what happened to you, and told us the news, I was scared shitless.” He let out a sad huff. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Tommy kept his eyes fixed at the pond in front of him. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He sighed.
You put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy…” You started, “I’m sorry for making you worry. You shouldn’t have to feel like that because of my actions.”
Tommy was lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking up, “No, please don’t apologize. It’s not anybody’s fault this happened, right?” You nodded.
Tommy stood up, dusting his pants off from the grass. “Come on now, let’s go get some ice cream!” He pulled you up from the ground.
“Last one to get to the shop has to pay!”
Immediately, Tommy bolts in the direction to the ice cream shop, and you catch up to him. No matter the circumstance is, he never seems to fail at putting a smile on your face.
Wilbur:
- i HC wilbur being the oldest, being older than techno by 3 years and older than tommy by 8, like IRL. :]
- i think out of all of your siblings, wilbur exudes the most “protective older brother” energy, yeah?
- remember when tommy lied about his mother being in trouble and how worried and anxious wilbur got? turn that up to 11 with what happened with you.
- with wilbur being the oldest, he of course had the responsibility of taking care of everyone. but somehow you and him didn’t spend as much 1 on 1 time as much as wilbur did with his other siblings
- wilbur definitely was going to change that, realizing that and not wanting to make that mistake again.
- he decided that finding a new hobby with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
You were sitting at the dinner table, being the last one there. You were poking at your food for the most part, and Wilbur got home late from… whatever Wilbur thing he was doing. Phil cooked pasta for dinner tonight. Wilbur put down his bags at the door connected to the garage. “I’m home! What’s for dinner?”
“Pasta.”
“Mmm, I love some good ol’ pasta.” He said, already taking a plate out to serve himself. “Also, hey, I bought something I wanted to build with you. Do you mind?”
You finally looked up from your very interesting pasta. “Build..?” You had no idea where this was going.
Wilbur placed his plate on the table and approached the bags of groceries, going through them to find the bag he was looking for. He pulled out a LEGO set. More specifically, a LEGO City set from the looks of the box? “Wilbur, how much was that?”
He blinked at you innocently. “It was only, like, £25. And look! It’s got a little submarine we can make with a rock and ugly sea monster—“
“But why?”
“Why not? It wouldn’t hurt for you to do something new, yeah?” He smiled at you, shaking the LEGO box in front of him to show it off. You sighed, but smiled. “Alright. But maybe you and I should eat this pasta first before we start building.” Wilbur nodded.
“Speaking of water, don’t you think I could teach you how to swim or something?”
“Oh, fuck off with that!”
Technoblade:
- i think out of everyone in the family, he understands you the most in terms of how you feel.
- not suicidal, but just generally having depressive episodes due to his ADHD.
- techno’s generally closed off, but started to really open up to you because he wanted to show he cares, even if it meant going out of his comfort zone.
- techno suggested journaling. once a day or once per week, it didn’t really matter. just as long as you could write down your feelings somewhere.
- he didn’t explicitly say it, but he also bought a book for himself so he could do it along with you. although, he more often than not just forgets to write in it until you mention your own journal.
- if you want to be sad and quiet, you can be sad and quiet with him. his room is a safe space for you if you ever need it and you’re always welcome to come in, just as long as you knock first.
With one hand on your mouse scrolling through the internet, and another resting your head on it, you were safe to admit you were utterly and completely bored. Honestly, you thought about taking another nap after your last one, but a knock on your door stopped you right before you pulled the covers over yourself. “Can I come in?”
You rose from your bed. “Come in. Oh hey Techno.”
He gave a simple wave and his signature “Halloo.” He walked right over to you and handed a journal and a ballpoint pen. “I got this. For you.” His stare was sharp but you could sort of tell he was nervous.
“What for?”
“I dunno. Writin’ your feelings down or drawin’ or somethin’. Whatever helps you vent.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Oh Techno, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You gave a slight smile, but saw that he still had another journal in his hand. “You have two journals?”
Techno raised his eyebrow in confusion before looking down at his hand. “Oh this? It’s for me. So we could do it together, I guess.”
You let out a happy hum. “That’s nice. Say, why don’t we go to your room? I want to see your new lava lamp and stuff.”
Techno shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more stationary too if you want.” He waved his hand before letting himself out the door, with you following not far behind.
hi hope u enjoyed reading as much as i did writing it. this format was new for me but very fun!
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lumini-317 · 3 years
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Hello!
This will be my official “introductory” post!
My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).
This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.
I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.
I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.
I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.
I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!
I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.
I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.
I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.
I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.
I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!
I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.
The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.
One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.
I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.
Any-who.
If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.
I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.
Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.
You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.
Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.
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But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...
Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!
I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!
Thank you for reading (:
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gywin97 · 3 years
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Do you think you could write something for sabriel? It’s my favorite ship in spn but i just can’t find any good fics. I saw a comment from you about writing so just curious
“…this is new.”
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder at the younger hunter, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a cup of coffee and his laptop. The archangel was sitting cross-legged on Sam’s bed, wearing Cookie-Monster pajama pants but completely shirtless. Usually that would be what grabbed Sam’s attention, but right now the six golden wings were stealing the show. Sure, Sam had technically seen them before as shadows when Gabriel was in a smiting mood, or maybe felt a gust of wind when the angel popped in for a surprise visit. But he’d never seen them like this, big and beautiful and sleek and getting feathers absolutely fuckin everywhere. It looked like Big Bird had blown up in his bedroom.
“Hey Sammy,” Gabriel said in his usually cheerful tone, although Sam noticed it sounded a little flat today. “Oooh, is that coffee? Can I have some?”
“Not on your life, not after the Redbull incident,” Sam warned, placing the coffee on the nightstand and well out of reach of the ADHD angel. “What’s going on?”
“Uh…” Gabriel shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting downwards and his hands curling in the bedsheets. “If I say it’s nothing, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Figured,” he sighed, Gabriel’s face shifting into what could only be described as a pout, and Sam had to remind himself this was a godly being who would smite him without breaking a sweat. “Ok, so our feathers kinda turn from winter to summer feathers, and uh, the winter feathers have to go somewhere-”
“Are you saying you molting!?” Sam squeaked, then realized something else. “In my bed?! Gabriel!!”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just – it’s really, reallyitchy, ok?” Gabriel almost whined the words, feathers ruffling along his wings in agitation. “Actually, that’s kinda why I’m here, I need a favor.”
Oh Chuck above. “A favour?”
“Nothing hard! Not even any murder involved!” Gabriel insisted quickly, holding up his hands to stop any oncoming complaints. “It’s just a vessel issue, that’s all. See, human body equals human joints. I uh, can’t reach my back side of my wings, especially close to my spine. I was hoping…”
“You want my help?” Sam couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice, the angel avoiding his eyes again. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, poof them away?”
“Poof them away – no, Sam, that’s not how it works,” Gabriel gave him a dirty look. “We can’t ‘magic’ our own wings. Dad’s little joke, to force all the angels to get along at least twice a year. Course, that was before we started stabbing our way through our family reunions, so now…”
“So this happens to everyone? To Cas, too?” The scientist in Sam got excited, hands itching to write all this down. “How does he deal with it?”
To his surprise, Gabriel looked at his toes. One hand scratched his shoulder, the celestial being fidgeting nervously as he though through his answer. “Well, since our brother’s have started doing the dirty deed-”
“-Dear god Gabriel-”
“He’s had Dean-o to help him out,” Gabriel explained, still not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Our grace can get a little wonkey, so we get an instinct to go find somewhere…”
“Somewhere?”
“…somewhere safe,” Gabriel said, his usually bright voice almost a whisper. “Or someone safe.”
Oh. Oh.
Sam wanted to smack himself when he realized what the annoying angel was trying to say. Gabriel’s instinct was to find somewhere safe, somewhere he felt he could let his guard down completely. To find someone who he trusted enough to show his vulnerability to.
And he’d come to Sam.
Gabriel must have seen the realization in his eyes, because he straightened his back and gave his usual cocky grin. “Hey, probably should have asked before I turned your room into a chicken coop. I-”
“How can I help?”
Gabriel stiffened, and Sam wished he could take a picture of his face. The angel looked almost cute like this, all big eyes with a little smile and small feathers mingled in his hair. The image gave the hunter a warm feeling in his chest, one he decidedly did not want to look to closely at. “Just…brush out the areas I can’t reach with your fingers, like you would with your hair. Oh, and some feathers will fall out when you do, so don’t freak out.”
“Alright,” Sam took a shaky breath and rearranged himself on the queen-sized bed, sitting directly behind the shorter man. He lifted one hand and tentatively touched the upper right wing, half expecting his hand to fall through like it was one of Gabriel’s illusions. Instead his hand landed on soft feathers, feeling hard bone and lean muscle just underneath. He gently pulled his hand downwards, sinking his fingers deeper into the fluff as he went along. Gabriel let out an audible sigh, as he did, a content little smile on his face.
“Mhmm…you’re a natural, Sam…” Gabriel wiggled slightly, directing his hand to a particularly itchy spot. “There, like that. Little left – Yeeeeeahhhh, like that.”
Sam grinned, enjoying the effect he had on the cocky angel. This being had seen and created galaxies, and yet here he was, almost purring as Sam moved his hands up and down the wings. A small pile of golden feathers compiled on the ground next to the bed, the pile growing bigger as Gabriel grew limper. By the time Sam had finished one side, he was basically holding the angel upright, his face completely at peace. The last time he’d seen someone with that blissed-out expression, Dean ate the wrong brownies and spent an evening gushing about how pretty Castiel’s eyes were.
Getting an idea, Sam finished the feather’s closest to the angel’s back, clearing out the last few loose feathers. Then he rested his right hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, gently pulling him towards his chest. Gabriel didn’t resist at all, easily falling backwards and laying limp against Sam. Honestly, Sam wasn’t even sure if the angel had noticed the change in position, but the action made a warm bubble appear in Sam’s chest. He wound one arm around the angel’s chubby waist, cautiously holding the angel even closer.
Gabriel made a happy little chirp, shifting a little so that his face was tucked into Sam’s collar bone. He wiggled a bit to get comfy, half on Sam’s lap at this point and showing no sign of moving. “Mhmm…hey, Sammy?”
Sam froze like Dean had caught him stealing the last piece of pie. Oh shit. “Uh, yeah?”
“I’m uh, really glad I came here,” the angel mumbled, not opening his eyes as he spoke. “Even if I messed up your bedroom.”
Sam gave a breathy laugh, tilting his head down and burying his nose in the golden-brown curls. His other arm snaked under the wings, pulling the pint-sized angel flush against his larger chest. “Good, because I’d be pissed if you went to Dean for this next time.”
“Cassie would smite me, possessive little chickadee,” Gabriel replied, and Sam could feel his body shake as he laughed. “Scout’s honor, I’ll only come to you for all my feathery needs from now on. Um, on one condition?”
“What is it?”
One hazel eye peeked open, looking up hopefully at the hunter. “Can you finish the other wings now? Please? Still itchy.”
Sam broke out in a laugh, unable to stop it. He hadn’t felt this happy in a long time, Gabriel pulling out a lightness that he’d almost forgotten. “Yeah Gabe, anything you want.”
Gabriel smirked, hazel eyes fully of mischief. “That’s a dangerous sentence to tell me, Sambo. Sure you wanna stand by that?”
Sam grinned, leaning down at kissing Gabriel’s shoulder, slowly moving up along his neck. The angel let out another happy little chirp, curling up against Sam like a kitten curling up in a sunbeam. Sam smile against his skin, the happy bubble in his chest growing bigger.
“Yeah, I’ll risk it.”
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andguesswhat · 3 years
Text
The fool on the hill - Chapter 7
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Yeah, well… Probably not what you’ve expected…  But for me this is them as well…
The Clown and the Circus Bear
*
So everything had been perfect. 
Owen had felt genuinely happy. He thought Tom was fucking adorable, he wanted to kiss him, wanted to fuck him. 
The moment on the hill with him was definitely something he would always cherish, always remember. This deep feeling of affection combined with this immense tension, the thrill, this feeling that yes, the other felt the same, wanted the same…
And as fucking frustrating as it was that they were interrupted and didn’t kiss, he had loved that, too. It was like being in a cheesy movie where the tension was ramped up yet again with a cheap director’s trick.
He took a deep breath. 
But now this. 
It had been like this before. 
Sometimes when he was genuinely happy, he would suddenly get this fear of losing everything. Like he wasn’t allowed to be this happy. So the happier he got, the more likely he was to crash. 
And this morning he had crashed, and crashed hard. 
A dark cloud of thick cotton already surrounded him, numbing and suffocating him. And there was nothing he could do about it. 
He had managed to get through the day and pretend everything was fine. But now he was on set at this birthday party of Natasha's and he felt completely out of place, like he didn’t belong here. Everyone around him was laughing too loud, talking too loud and he just wanted to get away from it all. 
Of course, after yesterday on the hill, everything was pointing towards him and Tom kissing tonight. Because why not. They should have fun at this party and then at some point.... kiss... right?
And it was that very expectation that caused Owen to crash. 
The excitement that he had felt yesterday was gone. Instead there was this fear of somehow not meeting the expectations, of doing something wrong that would destroy everything.
He hated it. 
Knowing that this was just some kind of sick mechanism in his head and he wasn’t able to do anything about it. He hated feeling like shit when this happened, but he bit his tongue and just smiled through the pain.
He saw Tom talking to people, saw him searching for eye contact with him, beaming at him, winking at him but Owen avoided him, always went somewhere else, far away from him. He felt a twinge in his chest at each smile sent his way and he finally couldn't do it anymore, so he disappeared behind some backdrops and got to the areas that were only illuminated with emergency lights. 
He had always loved that. Wandering through abandoned, dimly lit sets. He loved the atmosphere it created. But now he was just enjoying the darkness and a break away from all these laughing people. 
With a big sigh he sat down on the steps in the TVA interrogation room, resting his arms on his drawn knees, and closed his eyes. 
Why the fuck…!
He didn’t want this. 
He just wanted to be happy. 
He had been happy. 
So what was wrong with him?
Why had he to be like that?
He really hated himself. 
He wanted to drown this feeling in alcohol but he couldn’t risk falling even deeper.  
To think about his kids in these situations sometimes helped. Sometimes it made it worse, made him think he was the worst dad of all. 
Since he had come to Atlanta to work on `Loki´ everything had been so good this far. 
Even his current sleeping problems had stopped. He had felt calm. Content. Confident. 
Meeting Tom was one of the best things that had happened to him lately. He felt good in his presence. Safe. It was something he hadn’t expected. So he had cherished the time he had spent with Tom on and off set as something really special. 
And working on `Loki´ had been a blessing, too. The script was crap if he was honest. But due to that they had so much fun, so much freedom to try things out, to improvise, to just see what they came up with and it gave him the urge to write again. If it was for him, he would already do prequels, sequels and spin-offs with Mobius. He just loved it. He loved playing Mobius.
It really had done him so damn good. 
Owen contorted his face. 
So why?
Just why the fuck had it to be like this?
He heard someone coming. 
Saw Tom looking for him…  
With a bottle of beer in his hand. With a concerned look on his face.
“Hey…” 
With his fucking soft voice that Owen loved so much. 
“Everything alright? I don’t… I don’t want to bother you when you want to be alone. I was just… worried.” 
Being as sweet and caring and polite as always.
And it hurt Owen deep down in his chest. 
“No.. no, you don’t. I just… “ He didn’t know what to say.  
He just knew that he didn’t want Tom to leave.
“Can I sit down?” Tom asked carefully. 
Yes, please. “Sure.”
So Tom sat down next to him, looking at him with big questioning eyes. 
Yeah.. he should probably explain something. 
“I’m sorry… Tom.” Owen began. “I…”
He hated it. “I’m a mess...”
But Tom just looked at him compassionately and waited, so Owen continued. 
“I… have problems… sometimes.. mental problems… So I get sad sometimes… when I’m supposed to be… happy… when I am happy… It is some kind of dysfunction in my head. Like.. Well, like the happy clown gets sad…”
He sighed.
“And I’m really sorry… Because I guess.. you have expected something else… tonight… But I’m not good for you… I guess, I’m not good for anybody when I’m like this…” 
Tom squinted his eyes and pressed his lips together as if he was disagreeing but trying not to say anything. So Owen emphasized his point.
“I just can’t… give you what you want. I wish I could. But I just can’t.” 
He shook his head and looked down at the floor because he just didn’t know why he actually couldn’t.  
“I know this is hard to understand…” He knew how fucking stupid this all sounded. Why don’t you just do it if you want to? What’s the problem? They always say… 
He closed his eyes, feeling ashamed of himself.
“I do understand…” he heard Tom say softly.
Owen lifted his head to look at him. He was looking right back at him, with so much compassion in his eyes, and he continued speaking. Quietly. 
“Well, I don’t know… I mean everybody feels different, everybody has different… problems.. challenges… I don’t get sad when I’m happy.. But I do know what the sad side of a clown feels like… or actually more the sad side of a circus bear… which I am… Or was… I don’t know…”
Owen had to laugh a little at that. “Tom, the circus bear… Sounds like a cute children’s book.”
Tom smiled. “Yeah… .  I don’t know. Maybe it’s some kind of ADHD,” he shrugged his shoulders, “… but I’ve always done what people wanted me to do. And people wanted me to do really stupid things… . And I just did them. I loved the attention, I loved being liked… and to be loved… so I did more and more without really knowing why… And it really took me a long time to realize that…" he looked at the ceiling lost in thoughts, "I have worked constantly for 6 years in a row… I’ve sort of done every movie they offered me.. I have no idea how many interviews I gave during that time… how many stupid things I did… and all that just to not sit in that bear cage after the show…. And feel lonely and redundant…”
Owen felt his heart ache hearing all this. He didn't dare to breathe, didn't want to break this fragile bubble that they had somehow built here.
“And at some point I really lost it, I got so tired of it all… But you’re stuck in this wheel … " Tom’s hand made a circle," and you don’t know how to get out of it… I didn’t know who I am or what I wanted…” he sighed and nibbled at the label of his bottle. “I think I’m better now. Know how to take all this. But this doesn’t make me immune, you know. It will always be there…”
He took a deep breath, straightening up his back and looking directly at Owen.
“I’m sorry… I don’t want to be whining here.. I just want you to know that I know how it feels to be sad… when from the outside looking in... it seems that you don’t have any reason to.” 
Owen was deeply touched.
“Thank you…” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me…”
Tom gave him a reassuring look.
And then he got this Hang-on-I-have-to-think-about-something look on his face. 
Owen loved thinking-Tom. 
Watching Tom think always made Owen feel like a little kid at Christmas that couldn’t wait to see what was in the box. A quote? An adorable metaphor? 
“So… If you’re unhappy because you were happy…” Tom began. 
And Owen immediately loved how Tom had changed his voice to a more chatty and juvenile tone. 
“It’s sounds quite awful when I have to think that I am the one making you unhappy, so I’m going to reverse it: You being unhappy … does it mean that you like me… ” he gave Owen a challenging look. “…a little more… than a little?” 
Owen laughed. He shrugged his shoulders mockingly and showed a little space between his thumb and his index finger. “Yeah.. maybe a little more.”
But Tom didn’t seem to mind the mockery because he looked at Owen severely and said -  in his soft voice again -, “I can wait then.”
Owen didn’t know what to feel, he smiled a small smile but it came from deep in his heart and he hoped Tom would notice. 
“Thank you.”
Somehow he wished Tom would just grab him and kiss him. 
But it wouldn’t be Tom if he crossed the line. It wouldn’t be Tom if he didn’t respect him and his condition. 
And as much as Owen wished he would cross it, it showed him two things. 
One, that Tom was even more damn lovable. 
And two, that he himself was the one who needed to free himself out of there. Nobody else could. 
But he was determined to do it.  
He had to get better soon, if for no other reason than he could finally kiss Tom. His favorite Brit with his nonexistent lips. 
And now, now he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Tom. Held him close. And he was fucking glad that he could do it.  
“I’m sorry…” he whispered. 
“Don’t feel bad about it…,” Tom whispered back. “I want you to know that I don’t expect anything... And just as you are, you are good for me.” 
Tom’s word were soothing, his voice was soothing, Tom was soothing. Like he had been from the start.
“Thank you,” Owen said again and because he couldn’t resist, he added, “my little circus bear.”
Tom snorted. “Don’t! Just don’t!”
Owen grinned. “Yeah, I thought you are more of a pussycat anyway.”
And even he knew it would take some time before he felt right again, before he felt carefree again, he was fucking glad. 
That Tom had somehow turned this fucking sad situation in something lighter and beautiful. 
And that Tom had shown him a spark at the end of a hopefully not so long tunnel.
*
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handern · 3 years
Note
Devy this is a weird question but you're my only mutual I know who speaks French. Do you have any recommendations for french language children's books? Especially geared at like 6-10 year old readers? I'm trying to practice my language skills, but my french isn't quite good enough yet to read the book reviews. There's "adult readers", but they have a startling lack of anything at all fun in them. I want dragons and spaceships and shit, not sad people buying groceries
Oh I'm going to pull out my list of french writers books I read when I was 7/10 but I'm not sure if it's really what you're searching for?
Even when they're aimed at kids french books by french authors can have a lot of very pedantic words no one uses on a daily basis
Also keep in mind that most popular books written in english out there have probably been translated into french at some point !
Erik L'Homme :
- Le Maître des Brisants (just read book 1 and 2, the 3rd one was a mistake sorry mister Erik sir) : Steampunkish scifi, I don't remember the whole plot but it was pretty epic and I think it was about a boy coming on a spaceship for an internship? Now I need to re read it
- Le Livre des Etoiles : a young boy training to become a mage in a world that was part of ours and is still linked to ours but through a very small gate. It has celtic themes and epic fights but in a more modern way than most fantasy books
- Phaenomen : four kids in a "hospital for children with special needs" realize they have some powers while they go searching for their favorite doctor who vanished one day without a word. Kind of a modern take on changeling kids, smh it gave me a coping mechanism for ADHD and sensory overload that I still use haha
Pierre Bottero : all his series are linked somehow so here's the publication order, which is not the chronological order
- Ewilan series : a girl finds out she has the power to cross from our world to another one, and also that she's the most powerful magic user born in that world. She goes in search of her biological parents trapped somewhere in that world along with a very eclectic band of weird people. It was some of my favorite books ever.
- L'Autre : set in our world, it follows two heirs of some 7 or so families of people who can use magic, they have to learn to control their powers and I also forgot the main plot but hey the girl can turn into a panther and at some point she murders someone which was very cool of her
- Elana : following my childhood hero, Elana from the Ewilan series. It starts with her as a toddler being raised in the jungle after her parents' death (the best book) then it follows her growing up and being trained as a Marchombre (less interesting but still good) which is a thing that would take too long to explain like, they could be assassins but they're not and they could be thieves but they are not but also they're both assassins and thieves for most of them except they're not, they follow a goal way more important than just assassinations and thievery, of spiritual and physical perfection. I started practicing climbing bc of these books.
Erik L'Homme and Pierre Bottero :
- A comme Association : monsters hunting monsters (4 first books are by both of them, the rest is Erik L'Homme alone). It's pretty fun but I didn't get the end at all. But it's pretty fun yes and makes me very emotionnal bc Pierre Bottero was my favorite author and he died right after the 4th book's completion. The characters are really cool and very fun, and of course there's some monsters befriending
Serge Brussolo : each of his series has like 10000 books, I have no idea how this man writes so much but I'm pretty sure his writing rate should be illegal somehow
- the Peggy Sue series : my grandpa gave me the second book instead of the first by accident and thank goodness he did because the first book absolutely TERRIFIED ME, the rest is really kids books but the first one is horror. It tells the story of a girl who can see ghosts and they make her life miserable for it like, literally try to murder her and her family. She ends up travelling through weird places/worlds, it's pretty cool but jesus christ the first book. Warning for graphic murders, mind control and cannibalism in the first book. Some kids get almost boiled alive to be eaten in the second book but you know what? That's tame compared to the impression the first book left on me! There are sheep who eat people in the 5th book also if I recall correctly
- the Sigrid series : A girl born and raised in a weird submarine realizes that something is wrong and weird, ends up travelling through very eerie worlds where she has to learn the rules very fast to survive, it's also kind of horror-like, but less horrifying than the first Peggy Sue book. There are some spaceships, submarines, ghost boats and a lot more
Fabrice Colin : this man is a genius but also sometimes a dirty little copycat man I love him so much. He wrote a lot and not all of his books are equal in quality but when it's good it's really excellent
- Les Enfants de la Lune : set during WWII, a child who lives with his grandmother finds a letter adressed to his grandfather who died 10 years ago, he goes to the meeting to announce it to the people who wrote the letter and ends up meeting the last elves trying to leave our world before the last portal closes. It's very bittersweet and has absolutely amazing characters including a crocodile who probably ate a nazi at some point, evil pterodactyles and a mechanical kraken in the Seine. I spent 10 years hunting for a copy of this book, I would borrow it ten times a year at the local library
Eric Sanvoisin : I was absolutely obsessed w the atmosphere of his books. Horror but not scary? Kind of intriguing and creepy but in a very cosy and familiar way?
- Les buveurs d'encre : vampires but they drink books ink
- Les chasseurs d'Ombres (type in the author's name or you'll just get the Moral Instruments in the results) honestly it's been so long I don't remember much except that I harassed my parents until they bought me the book after I read it at the library. I think it has vampire-y vibes too with investigations
I also read every single book of the "Autre Mondes" collection by the Mango editor, which has really cool scifi books but there are so many it would make this list way too long so I'll just recommend "Les Abimes d'Outremer" which is about space whales being spaceships, but this collection is a goldmine if you want well wrapped together short-ish novels
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Hi I dont know if you want jercy requests at the moment but i had an idea for one :
Dark percy murdering calligula as a revenge for jason
Hello angel! Whew this request was willldddddd and I had soo much fun with it. There isn't any jercy per se (in fact Annabeth and Percy are together in this) but Percy is furrrrrious about Jason and he exacts a very twisted sort of revenge for his friend's honour. Basically this was an excuse to write dark!percy and by gods I hope I delivered!
CW: revenge driven, grief, graphic depictions of violence
Burning Maze Spoilers
he used to be nice.
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He used to be nice.
Percy had been digging around the weapons room when his name had been shrieked like a dying animal. He had been looking for protective gear to give to little demigods in his sword-fighting class, when a scream like broken bones cracked through his body. He had been starting another calm, routine-controlled day at camp half-blood when he heard the news that made him snap.
*Two hours earlier*
“Jackson,” Annabeth knocks at his cabin door. He hears her voice carry through the open windows, and over the continuous sound of the ocean. “Pers, we have breakfast in half an hour and you have a sword class to teach today.”
The event had been printed on her wall of “to-dos” so that neither of their adhd brains would have the chance to forget. But he groans at the reminder, not wanting to escape his warm bed, or the duvet that wraps around him like a hug, or the pillows that hold his head as if he is a god. Sometimes he wishes he was a Hypnos kid. Their whole thing is sleeping . The knock sounds again.
“Seaweed Brain, come on,” His girlfriend sighs, “You promised we’d talk to Chiron about the—"
The loud and obnoxious cry of a harpy sounds somewhere in the distance and whatever she says next is drowned out completely. He knows though. Knows what she’s going to say and what they have to do. So he drags himself out of bed, like the last sack of potatoes on the crate. Heavy and bruised and discarded for the most desperate of the lot.
“I’m up,” He manages to rasp. He doesn’t like talking to people till he’s brushed his teeth, and eaten something, and spent at least half an hour staring at an empty coffee cup. A New Yorker through and through he supposes.
“Okay,” He hears Annabeth call, “I’ll see you at the dining hall then.”
He makes a sound half way between a grunt and a yawn and hopes she understands because that’s the best she’s getting out of him. The morning routine is quick, even done at the speed of a stubborn toddler. Soon he is sitting at the Poseidon table, scarfing down eggs and toast, and washing it done with a second cup of coffee. The buzzing in his veins is completely normal. And he’s definitely not speaking at a thousand miles an hour. This is how he always talks. Why on earth they allow coffee in a camp full of adhd kids, he’ll never understand. But it works in his favour so he isn’t going to complain.
By the time him and Annabeth are done talking to Chiron about introducing therapy to the camp, he feels like his eyes are moving faster than his sensory receptors can process and his thoughts are moving faster than his ability to process at all. So when his girlfriend, smiling at him about something, stops outside their training room he looks at her with furrowed brows and asks, “What are we doing here? Are we training for something?”
She frowns, “How much coffee did you have this morning?”
“Only three cups.” He shrugs, and clenches his hands in his pockets as if she can see through the fabric to the shaking body underneath.
Her grey eyes widen as if she’s about to scold him, a petulant child being chided by their ever tired caregiver. It makes the part of him still attempting to function slightly wild. He squishes that part down with the force of a thousand ships. Someone calls Annabeth’s name so with a quick peck to the cheek she leaves him in front of the training room and jogs towards the middle of camp and out of sight.
He stares at the room, trying to get his brain to stop focusing on things he doesn’t need to focus on right now, like the three lines of a song he heard at the grocery store a week ago that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.
He used to be nice.
Entering the training room he scans the schedule and sees he’s teaching a class of small people, campers younger than ten who are just learning the ropes but should disaster ever strike will be ushered to the Cabin 9 bunkers to wait out the storm. It is a rule that no-one under the age of twelve be subject to war if they need not be. And he will make damn sure the need never ever surfaces.
He gathers swords of various shapes and sizes, along with a few daggers, and the straw dummies that have seen better days. It boggles his mind that they’re at a camp for children of literal greek gods but somehow there’s no funding for basic necessities like extra cots in the Hermes cabin, and better dummies to stab.
Muttering to himself he moves aside metal and stacks of straw, trying to find protective gear in the pile dumped at the corner of the training room. When he doesn’t see any he lets out a long suffering sigh... he has to go to the weapons room, which is more of a broom closet with deadly devices than anything else.
The room smelt musty, and the reek of rust slams into his nostrils at dizzying speeds. It reminds him of blood, and it made his skin itch with the need to get out. But still he bends down and searches through the mess of celestial bronze, and gold and—
The scream cauterizes his happiness. He is panic and pain and death and everything brutal in a single awful instant.
“PERCY!” His name has never sounded so full of agony, each syllable holds the stages of grief.
He is running towards the anguish before he’s even fully realises what’s going on. But what he sees when he crests the hill is enough to make the warmth of his heart run burning cold.
Annabeth is curled on the ground, tears like rivers of woe streaming down her cheeks and a purple flag clutched tightly in her fists.
“What happened?” His voice is soft. If he hears himself too loudly he’s going to shatter.
Annabeth cries harder, her whole body shuddering. Grief is overwhelming. Grief is all consuming. Grief will make itself known like thorns in your thumb or bullets in your heart.
“What happened?” He repeats.
And someone, far away, right next to his ear, inside his head, says, “It’s Jason, Jason Grace. He’s dead.”
He used to be nice.
It takes him three days. Three days of non-stop travelling, by foot, and air, and sea, to reach Caligula’s home. A palace. A grave. It is three days too long. Too long for a murderer to be walking free as if there are no consequences to his vile actions. But still he is here now and he will see the fall of a great, and watch how he bleeds just like everyone else. Not gold, the colour of the emperor’s one true love, but red, the colour of his victims.
Percy's eyes are almost black with violence, green so dark it reflects the night sky. His hands clench and unfurl as if practicing to wrap around a throat and squeeze till the symphony of breathing plays its last note. His body is strung taut, a bow string waiting to release. He is murder. He is nothing. He is your worst nightmare.
“Caligula.” He scrapes. It is the exact sound of a sword sparking against stone. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
Nothing but scared silence greets him. He can feel the fear coating the walls of this burial ground like a fresh coat of paint. He will make a playground of the blood he spills, will invite all manner of creatures to use it as a park. He will revel in the slaughter he is about to participate in.
“Caligula!” His voice is the sharp edge of a small knife. Unassuming but deadly. ‘“It is no use hiding. There is no place you could go where I couldn't find you.” He feels the earth sway underneath him, and he grins. Oh this is going to be fun.
“Fine Emperor, if this is how you want to do it.”
With a shrug, he flings out an arm and turns three columns to dust. He watches the stone crumble, feels the sand on his palm as if he was crumbling the columns in his hands like soft cheese. With a small stomp of his foot a crack rivaling the river Thames splits the marble floor in half. The entire structure shudders, creaks right above him. His grin only gets wider, more dangerous.
“I will level this place to the ground. I will erase it from history as if it had never been. You will not exist Caligula, because you will go with it. Will be crushed under the weight of your own wealth.”
“You’re a fool,” A voice, reedy and nasalled in a way that has his soul curdling, shouts from somewhere on the far side of the room. “You will crush us both."
Percy laughs. He laughs and the sound widens the cracks in the floor. It is deep, and wild, but in the way a wild thing is caged: snapping at it’s bars, hissing to be free. He laughs.
“You are a fool Caligula. A fool if you think i am not willing to die if it means you suffer. A bigger fool still if you think it will not give me great pleasure to spend my last moments watching the life leave your eyes,”
The distant sound of bubbling starts to fill the room. Percy wonders if he can make blood boil. His mother has certainly said so enough times.
“Leave now half-blood,” The Emperor spits. There is still something of arrogant, misplaced bravery in his voice. It amuses Percy. “Leave now and you will not face the consequences.”
“And pray tell,” He contemplates, “Who you think will deliver your consequences if i leave?”
A scoff that echoes into the pathways of his brain comes from the back of the room. “I do not need consequences dealt. I have done nothing to deserve them.”
The sound of bubbling is getting louder. He looks curiously at the cracks still spidering around the room. “Ah Emperor,” He tuts, “That is where you are wrong. People who deserve consequences hardly ever get them. It is those who don’t think they deserve them that become the unlucky bearers.”
“What are you going on about, boy?” He snarls.
The bubbling is loud enough now that Percy almost checks to see if a small brook has carved its way through the floor. There is nothing there except ever growing cracks, turning to rifts and canyons before his eyes.
He used to be nice.
“We can do this one of two ways Caligula.” He starts, honey bees with a sting a little too sharp to be defence. “You can apologise and I’ll kill you quickly, or…” His smile is sickening. “And this is my preferred method, I could watch you die slowly, watch the life drain from your body and into the soil of blood-crops that will grow here, and your dying words will be the mercy you will inevitably beg for.”
The bubbling spills over the cracks, leaking salty water onto the dying marble floor.
“Better choose soon oh dear Emperor,” He giggles, “I am the only thing holding this room together. As soon as I let go the floor will split like your loyalties. You will be crushed to death by your own greed. And if that doesn't happen you will surely drown.” To emphasise his point water starts gushing from the floor, no longer a bubbling stream but a raging river. His laughter is carried along the ripples that hit the walls, already leaking with the all encompassing ocean. “Wouldn’t it be a pity Caligula? To drown in your own home, surrounded by all the things you killed for, watching as they drown with you?”
“Shut up half-blood,” He screeches, “You do not have the power it takes to kill me. You are nothing compared to the centuries I have been alive.”
“Do you know who i am honouring Caligula?” He asks softly, a stark and terrifying contrast to his smile a moment before. “In all your centuries can you remember but one demigod, a dear friend of mine, but just another victim of yours?”
“Does it matter?” He scoffs, “They are all the same in the end. All bleed, and cry, and piss, and die the same.”
The grin Percy lets loose starts hurricanes. It is the absolute wrong thing to say. ‘“If it is all the same to you Emperor,” He becomes terror. “Then i think i’ll spill your blood at his altar.”
And before the doomed emperor could react an invisible hand wraps around his throat and he was being dragged to the middle of the room. His eyes wide, popping out of his head; hands clawing at his neck as if trying to remove the grip they cannot feel; feet flopping helplessly underneath him.
“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.” It is a command.
Caligula glares, attempting to spit at his feet.
Percy tilts his head and with a single crook of his finger he slams the emperor into the wall. The crack is deafening. It makes him grin.
“Apologise for killing Jason Grace.”
Caligula produces an ancient roman gesture, passed through time as if centuries cannot dismantle the insults of humans.
Percy twists his wrist and the emperor’s body contorts into something unrecognizable, bones snapping and shattering to fit their new mold.
“Apologise for killing my friend.”
“Fuck you,” He manages to choke out.
A wave of ocean water alarming in its beauty rises behind him. He is its god. And with a wink he shoves all of it down the emperor’s throat. The column of that pale neck bobs as if attempting to take the water down. He can see the body trying to retch it all up, unable to handle the sheer amount, the salt that comes with it.
“Watch Caligula,” He motions to the palace sinking under the weight of his ocean, “Watch as everything you have ever cared to love drowns.”
Percy grabs a shard of mirror, uncaring of the gash it sweeps across his palm. He holds it up to the ancient powerful Emperor, who is convulsing into nothing. “Watch.”
He used to be nice.
Sometime later when Percy Jackson walks up a hill, and into the fading sun there is nothing but content mania lining his features, and behind him where a grand home once stood, is a trickling river and a single spear carved with the words, “Neo Helios”. The only sign that Caligula, Emperor and murderer, ever existed,
He used to be nice.
Until someone killed his friends.
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[image id: printed text that reads, "I used to be nice." end id]
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fragileizywriting · 2 years
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I have a question for you that you might not be comfortable answering and it is TOTALLY fine if that is the case so please don’t feel obligated to respond!! What I’m wondering is, how do you see yourself reflected in each of your characters? Traits about yourself, things you wish you were, goals you have, etc. Again, if this is too personal please don’t worry about it, I was curious because I was reading through some of my old writing and thought “I really projected onto this character huh”
hi anon!!! oh lawd, i have no idea if i should answer this in like. a full play-by-play way, or just gloss over stuff, because i'd love to answer this in huge detail but i have no idea if anyone (even you, the person who asked!) would be interested so here's what i'll do: i'm going to write my answer, without editing it over and over again, and hope to god you're okay with whatever length it ends up being :') here goes!
i have to start with the way i write lady noire. i have to. i write lady noire with the tag "marinette has ADHD" which is exactly and honestly what i have. in the kwami swap fics that i write, everything and anything she says or thinks is exactly the way that i talk and behave when i'm having a good day (which is to say, an absolute mess!) she's constantly tripping over her words, smacking into doors, always looking like she's handling her school life (when she is very much holding on for dear life just trying to pass), etc etc. kitty!marinette is by far the most obvious "me" whenever i write, which is why i think i like writing her so much. i give her my problems of attachment, of struggling to understand between romance/platonic relationships, of fits of crying that don't exactly line up to what exactly is happening in the fic. if i ever had to pick a character from any of my AUs to represent me, it would be 1000% lady noire.
i think i relate to marinette the most in all of the AUs. each marinette is different-- i only really have four of them-- but i think i write them with different personal traits that are still representative...? of me...?
maybe the marinette i have the least in common is FLP marinette. i think her skittish-but-blunt behavior is something i want to have because it's endearing and genuine, but i don't think i have it at all.
mouse!marinette i definitely have the overthinking sometimes. she thinks so much. but i definitely don't think as much or as clearly as she does, i'm definitely more impulsive like kitty!marinette is.
but DL marinette, oh god, okay--
she's the marinette i write the most, right? obviously, and i think what really gets me about her is that she is so desperate for contact and connection with others. it's genuinely hard for me not to write a DL fic with cuddles involved because that's literally all i think about. close contact and sleep (i have very poor sleep, as many people here already know) and marinette's wants for a family are the trifecta of izy when she's having a bad day.
i'm asexual myself, so the idea of having a family (as in, like, partner/partners) that will still love me and "won't kick me out" is just something that i've really come to struggle with last september. i think i wrote about that in a previous tumblr post somewhere? oh, i found it, here it is!
i wrote marinette wanting a family, a good and honest one that won't shy away to catering to her needs of wanting to be tactile and close and something something most important part being the bed-- the entire first half of comfort givin' was like. two days post-breakup, i'm pretty sure, and i was just reeling. you know? it was so painful to do anything. i honestly don't even remember what i did first-- oh, yeah. i was at a friend's house for the first time in like two years leaving the house to see her. i think i ate a hotdog. i didn't even tell my friend because she was doing homework and i was so out of it, i got broken up with over text. over text. this was a guy that had bought me a promise ring just a while ago saying that we'd get engaged as soon as i finished college, but, that sure didn't work out LSDJKFLJSKDFLJSFKD five (five!) years gone. through text. how embarassing
i know that my newly-appointed-ex decided to get wasted that night (out of saddness???? or something????? even though it was him who dumped me, so..??), so i made sure to turn off my phone just in case he tried to text me all drunk about how he was sorry and whatever-- i have no idea if he did. anyway
even still, now, i'm shocked like i didn't expect any of it to happen at all, like, everything was fine on my end, and i see that a lot in marinette when i was writing her before. i guess i wish i was as strong as her, to keep trying and looking for more and more. ironically, this succubus has helped me out a lot this past year, including helping me realize what i want out of my relationships and what i want for myself. i see myself when she doesn't find it particularly interesting to be with other succubi because of what happened-- i don't hang out with our friends anymore. i see that loneliness a lot. having a nino or an alya in my life would be a godsend. and a luka and adrien, too, of course.
sorry this got depressive LKDJFLSJDKFLSKFDJLKDLFJSDK idk i just wanted to give you a good answer. maybe this was tmi but i thought this was a cool ask and i wanted to give it a shot. thank you for asking, anon, this was such a cool ask! sorry i got sidetracked everywhere!
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one-abuse-survivor · 3 years
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before i start, thank you so much for doing what you do;this blog has given me good advice countless times and i really have to thank you for that.
my issues with my parents are that they don't take me seriously. i can literally go up to them and say: "mom/dad, i think i might be autistic or have ADHD (both would be quite likely) can i get that checked out" and list a bunch of examples why i think that and they'll just be "nah, that can't be, you don't seem like that at all" as of i didn't break my mind over it researching it and talking to people who have it to see if we've had similar experiences just to get some kind of reference as to why i feel the way i feel and why i struggle so much with things that so many other people find so easy.
but then, in the following weeks and months (after talking w them) they just randomly point out things about me that kinda annoy them, like me talking out of turn a LOT or me not looking at people or me having trouble focusing if there isn't also music and a movie going at the same time or mom saying that i seem hyperactive to her because i'm always moving my legs or pacing around or rubbing my hands or drumming on the table with pens. things like that (plus a lot more) were the exact things i was telling them about and they just put it off like it's nothing but as soon as it affects and annoys them it's suddenly very real. at this point i'm struggling to talk to my parents about anything even remotely more serious than generic smalltalk and i'm having a hard time believing myself that my struggles are in fact real and i'm not just making them up.
and also on a less related note; the thing i hate most about my parents: if i'm wearing headphones and couldn't understand what a parent was yelling from somewhere else in the house then it's my fault. but if it's the exact same situation but i'm the one calling and they couldn't hear me, then it's obviously my fault too (i kinda get the first one but srsly how could i not wear headphones when they're constantly arguing with my brother in the room next to mine) (either way if one of the scenarios is clearly my fault, then the other shld be clearly their fault bc that's how logic works)
hhhh, this got quite long. i would love to hear your thoughts about this
a continuation from the other ask about my parents not taking me seriously even when i ask them for help with my hardest problems. that ask didn't really go in the direction i had planned but there is so much going on between my parents and me that i really need to talk to someone about
background: i'm around 15-16 rn and have a brother who's 18. primary school was academically very easy for me (lots and lots of great and even perfect grades) but my brother didn't have it as easy (lots and lots of mediocre and meh grades) so my parents really just kinda let me do my thing while they were constantly busy with my brother. so i got really independant and did all of my stuff on my own bc a) i always had done it that way and b) my parents were already busy and stressed. but after my brother got his first computer and got into video games his grades dropped and my parents started constantly arguing with him and taking away his computer and stuff like that so there was always a lot of tension (and i got to a point where i can't handle people yelling; that's what i was referring to with the headphone thingy at the end of the last ask) i don't know if i can go that far and say that my parents kinda neglected me and my emotional needs in favour of saving my brother grades but that's pretty much the way it feels.
i'm now a sophomore (school works a bit different here but i'm the equivalent of a highschool sophomore afaik, here it's just 10th grade) and starting from about mid 8th grade (end of 2018) i've been struggling a lot with self care and upkeep of my already minimal social circle and academic stuff (i'm at the academically highest level of school you could be at my age without skipping any years) and also mental health.
i got quite depressive and started isolating myself and casting away friends and my grades went down a lot, which really disappointed me because my great grades were kind of my trademark thing. but i didn't feel safe talking to my parents because of the huge distance that we built by me "never" needing their help with stuff.
in that time (almost a year ago, our anniversary is in twenty days or so) i got a girlfriend and i'm hella glad that i can talk to her about everything but i feel like i can't just go dump trauma and parent issues on her forever
about last november or so i was at a pretty low point and was suicidal and that's kind of when i snapped and went to my parents to talk so being cast away and having my issues invalidated really really hurt then and made me spiral even deeper and my gf was the only thing keeping me afloat.
i'm kind of a bit better now but i have rebuilt my view of my parents from "idk we never really interact" to "trying to interact or talk is not worth the energy" and needless to say i don't like them that much
oh and i forgot about all the times i got panic attacks and sensory overloads @ school because there are so many people there (1700 students + 200 teachers) and it's loud everywhere and of course asking my parents for what to do if suddenly everything is too bright and too loud and you can't move or talk because of it didn't get me anywhere (and since i didn't know what it was called or how to describe it properly, i didn't really find any Information online either
and just typing this makes me think of so many more things that they did that aren't okay things to do (a lot of gender identity stuff for example because i'm also neck-deep in that) . but writing this has also helped a lot right now. thank you for being there and listening.
and just in case i'm ever gonna pop back in to say something i'm gonna drop a name for easier identifying
sincerely - 🌌 milky way anon
Hi, nonnie! Thanks for the kind words, I'm really glad my blog has been of help ❤️
I'm sorry your parents are making it hard to believe your struggles are real :( you deserve to be taken seriously and to get access to all the help you might need. Just the fact your symptoms are there and you're noticing them and they're interfering with your daily life is enough to get them checked, regardless of if you need a diagnosis/meds/anything else. No one deserves to live wondering if their struggles are worth discussing with a doctor or professional.
And you're right: if one of those things was your fault, then the other should be theirs, logically. But I don't even think it's "your fault" you didn't hear them because you were wearing headphones, to be honest. I think it's just something that happens from time to time and that doesn't warrant getting mad over; I think it's the kind of thing that simply needs to be talked about so everyone in the household knows how to communicate with everyone else without getting frustrated. It's as easy as saying "hey, whenever I put on headphones I'll just text the family group chat to let you guys know I won't hear you. If you need anything in those moments, just text me instead". I do this with my girlfriend sometimes—if we're wearing headphones and we're in the same room, we simply pat each other when we need something and wait until the other takes off their headphones to talk. It really doesn't have to be an issue where anyone is to blame. You're allowed to take steps to feel safe and comfortable in your house without getting punished for it.
But, of course, this doesn't work if the people around you choose to prioritise "being right" and proving you're wrong over a peaceful and healthy cohabitation, which is what most toxic and abusive people do.
As for your second ask, I would say if it feels like your parents neglected you and your needs because they were always focusing on your brother, then it's okay to say that they did. The fact alone that those feelings are there makes you deserving of talking about it and wanting to heal from it; the cause of those feelings doesn't have to be something major, or sound deeply traumatising when you say it out loud, in order to "count". And people whose emotional needs were consistently met don't feel like they weren't.
I've already shared this video before, but if you want some resources on identifying and healing from emotional neglect, I really recommend watching it. Please bear in mind, though, that the video says it's important to not blame parents for emotionally neglecting you, but I don't think that's the message a lot of people need to hear and I think you should allow yourself to feel angry at your parents for not meeting your needs and causing you trauma. That's pretty much the only thing I'd criticise about the video.
I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling with your grades and mental health lately, nonnie. I had a quite similar experience when I was in high school—I used to always get great grades, but my mental health and trauma put a lot of strain on them (as well as on my social life; I lost a lot of friends in those years) and it was really distressing to see the only thing that made me "worthy" crumble between my fingers like that. I'm still trying to unlearn this idea that your grades define your worth, and it's been really hard.
I'm so sorry your parents weren't there for you when you hit that low 😔 I'm glad your girlfriend could help you stay afloat in that moment, but they absolutely should've been there for you all those times you reached out to them for help with your struggles, and the fact that they didn't is emotionally neglectful of them.
I'm glad you're in a better place now ❤️ I really hope you can find out all the information you need on gender identity and sensory overload and any other issues that might be affecting you. Know that you deserve for your parents to be there for you. You shouldn't have to face any of this on your own, or even with only the support of other people your age. You deserve for them to care. You deserve to have your symptoms checked out. You deserve adult guidance to find resources to help you better understand and manage your struggles.
Sending all my virtual support your way ❤️ and happy belated anniversary to you and your girlfriend!
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februaryberries · 4 years
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Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post
Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!
This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.
Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !! 
This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)
In no particular order:
If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”
Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one
Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help! 
Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk.  figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done. 
On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because
1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)
2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.
And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.
Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in  a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about ! 
Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year ! 
Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown) 
I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.
My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.
Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.
You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful. 
DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER
Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,
for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.
Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.
When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.
Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !
That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!
Have a good day :)
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phykios · 3 years
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honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]
Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 
Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 
Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.
“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”
Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.
Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.
She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 
I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?
It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.
sure, wya
520 8th, text me when you get here 😁
That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 
She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 
He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 
“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”
“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”
It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”
Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 
“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”
He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”
A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 
Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”
“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.
“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 
“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”
“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”
“How did it go?”
“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 
Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”
He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”
“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”
Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”
“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”
He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 
Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 
At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”
This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 
“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.
“The med school guy, right?” 
Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 
Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 
“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 
Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.
Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 
He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.
“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”
He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.
Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”
“You… thought I was Jason?”
“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”
He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”
“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”
“For a whole week?”
This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”
She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.
So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.
Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 
“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.
Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”
“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”
He scoffs. “No we don’t.”
“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 
“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.
“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.
He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”
“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”
Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 
Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.
After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”
“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.
“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”
“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”
She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”
“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”
“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”
He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”
She turns.
If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.
“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”
Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.
Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”
This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”
He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”
“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”
“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”
She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”
“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.
“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”
“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”
Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 
She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 
She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 
He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”
“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 
“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”
“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 
Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 
“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 
She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”
He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.
In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.
Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 
He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.
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