#can i just turn my neurodivergency off for a day i need to get work done | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steviewashere · 2 months

Text

Debrief

Rating: General CW: None Really Apply to This One! Tags: Established Relationship, Married Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Hurt/Comfort, Deep Breath Exercises, Dialogue Heavy, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington has Seizures (Not shown), Steve Harrington has Migraines (Not shown), Stressed Steve Harrington, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington, Not Really Said But it Is Implied, Negative Stimming (Hair Pulling), Teacher Steve Harrington

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is helping them unwind after a rough day."

💕—————💕

It was a bad day when Eddie hears the front door slam close. The first telltale sign that Steve’s had it rough, that he’s worked himself up, that he’s thinking too hard and too fast and needs to unwind. What comes next is the groans and the huffs and the irritated little sighs. The slamming of his thermos on the dining table. A chucked briefcase. Sneakers that, from where Eddie can see on their couch, get creased on the heel from how Steve takes them off. Never a good sign.

Just as he rocks forward to stand up from his comfortable cushion, Steve comes careening around the corner. A lukewarm plastic bottle of water in his left hand, glasses unfolded and dangling in the other. His hair is standing up every which way, as if he’s been pulling at it for the last little bit. Dress shirt untucked, sweater vest already absent from his body. He’s removed his belt somewhere in the time it took him to get home. So his pants are threatening to fall off his waist. But he just rushes over to the couch and plops down unceremoniously. Eddie leans back in his spot, attempting to nonchalantly lay about his space, waiting for Steve to start the conversation.

Really, he shouldn’t let Steve continue to be worked up. But, for the sake of who Steve is and for the sake of an argument-less night, Eddie has to indulge.

It’s not even three minutes later that the water bottle is crumpled in Steve’s grip, empty, and carelessly thrown onto their coffee table. Eddie turns down the volume of their TV as soon as Steve huffs.

“I fucking hate this new principal,” he seethes. Here we go, Eddie thinks, though calm. “She just drops into my classroom without giving me any sort of warning. Gets all my kids excited to the point they can’t calm down. Her fucking heels were practically stomping about the tile. And she is so demanding!” Steve’s elbows are set heavily on his knees, pressing down hard enough to leave an obvious divot in his pants. His fingers are splayed over the sides of his face, itching to move into his hair.

Eddie turns towards him a little. But he doesn’t say anything, not yet, at least.

“Fucking—“ He cuts himself off with a groan. “—Going through my lesson plan! Tsking under her breath whenever she sees something not up to her standards. Grumbling that certain things were going to be too hard or too long or too…Ugh!” There his hands go, wrapping around tendrils of his hair. He tugs hard enough that the skin on his scalp stretches with the movement. “At least my previous boss would wait until after the students left the classroom! At least she’d fucking explain in length why certain things weren’t working. This new principal, she just fucking takes it upon herself to scratch things out all willy-nilly—AND—she doesn’t consult me about it first! Doesn’t even explain! Doesn’t give me the chance to explain! I just—I don’t—“

This is the time where Eddie has to cut in. He leans into Steve’s space little by little. Enough until they’re warm at each other’s sides. His hands cover the backs of Steve’s. “Let go, honey,” he whispers. And waits, squeezing at Steve’s skin until he does release. “There we go,” Eddie murmurs, “Take a deep breath for me.”

He stutters through an inhale, but instead of exhaling—“It’s so stupid! Who the fuck does she think she is?! And none of the other teachers like her! They all think—“

“Steve,” Eddie murmurs firmer, “You need to take a deep breath.” Inhale and exhale. Then, Eddie states, “Stress causes seizures and migraines, sweetheart. She isn’t somebody worth getting sick over.”

“She’s my boss, Eddie,” Steve whines back.

Eddie runs his palms soothingly up and down Steve’s arms. Some of the tension seeps from his shoulders, but the rest of his body is pulled taut like a brand new bow. “I know,” he whispers, “but she doesn’t matter to me. You matter to me. And you getting sick over somebody like her only does harm.” He ducks down and meets Steve’s eyes. They’re shiny with tears, red on the waterlines, squinted to avoid crying. “You can tell me about what happened, but I’m going to help you, alright? You remember how we do this?”

Steve sniffles. One of his hands wipes at the bottom of his nose, coming away wet with snot. He grimaces, but sucks on his bottom lip in thought. When it comes to him, he mumbles, “Deep breaths. Quiet voice.”

Nodding, Eddie whispers, “You got it, love bug. Take another deep breath and then tell me what’s bothering you.” He brings a palm to settle over Steve’s chest, rubbing in slow circles over his heart. It’s beating hard and fast under his palm. Unsettling. Pressing a little into his sternum, Eddie requests, “Go ahead and lay down on the couch.” He stands from his spot and waits for Steve to elongate. Once his legs are stretched out and his head is cushioned on one of their lousy throw pillows, Eddie settles on the edge of the middle cushion, close to Steve’s hip. He keeps his hand on Steve’s chest. Doesn’t crowd his space, but the heavy weight of his arm is reminder enough that he’s there.

Steve closes his eyes. Hands rested on his belly. Fingers splayed instead of tugging at one another. The inhale lasts for four seconds. And Eddie’s proud of the way Steve holds it, the entire seven seconds. Not once giving up on it. When he exhales, his eyes flutter back open. He finds Eddie’s face, gives him a tight smile, and nibbles on his bottom lip. His eyebrows raise in silent question and Eddie simply nods in response.

“The new principal at my school made me angry today by vetoing my entire lesson plan,” he states calmly. “She had asked for my schedule for the day, which always includes my plans. And I watched her sit at the back of the classroom. With her stupid—“

With his palm, Eddie presses down lightly on Steve’s chest. “Deep breath, Steve,” he commands softly. They avoid using words like stupid when Steve debriefs like this. As soon as his tone goes sharp, his heart rate elevates, the louder his voice gets, the more frustrated he is, and then the whole day crumbles around them.

Another four seconds. Then seven. And eight on the release. Steve asks for permission, Eddie grants it to him.

“She pulled out a ballpoint pen, not a pencil, and marked out things on my plan she didn’t like. Which was most of it,” he relays, “And that made me irritated, not angry. But then a kid asked her what she was doing. So she told this kid the truth.” His hands spasm lightly on his belly as if attempting to bunch his shirt, but he prevents himself from completing the action. “And he said really loudly that the principal was ‘Giving Mr. Harrington a bad grade.’ That shouldn’t embarrass me, but it did. Because—“ He stops to take a deep breath of his own, not even prompted by Eddie.

He smiles to himself as Steve closes his eyes and inhales. Does the whole exercise. And clears his throat to continue.

“—Because it made me feel like I did a bad job. Like I—Like maybe I failed?” He questions rhetorically, searching for the right word. And decides that, yep, that was right. “It made me frustrated that she couldn’t keep that confidential from the student. And it only made me angrier when the kids began to laugh and tease me. I shouldn’t be so—“ He stops himself with another groan.

Palm press. Breath. Exhale. Permission.

“I got so overwhelmed, Eddie,” he admits. Completely shameful. “I didn’t know how to reign them back in, even though I’ve been doing this for nearly ten whole years. There wasn’t any yelling or anything, but she was scolding me with her eyes. Made me feel like—“ And instead of a groan, there’s a sniffle. Small and polite, but there. “—Like I was getting reprimanded by my dad. Which is so humiliating. And I just felt…Small. Like I wasn’t there at all. Wasn’t a teacher. As if I—As if maybe I didn’t deserve to be there today.” And at that, Steve crumbles a little further. Tears sluggishly leaking down his face.

Eddie rubs his thumb over Steve’s chest. He aches. “Oh, baby,” he breathes. “You deserve to be there, Steve. You’ve worked hard for your job. For those kids. I’m sorry she made you feel that way, sweetheart.” He presses lightly once more on Steve’s chest. “Take one more deep breath, alright?”

As Steve does what he’s told, Eddie gently lays his hands on either side of his face. Thumbs wiping away at the tears. He’s surprised that Steve lets him, but then again, today was rough enough. Probably didn’t want to make it harder on himself.

“You know what I think, Steve?” He questions.

Steve hums in response, eyes finding his, big and wet and tired.

“I think she’s very unprofessional,” Eddie states sure. “I think that you did your best with what happened. It’s not your fault that the students acted the way they did. It wasn’t okay of her to tell that student your business. And it definitely should’ve been a conversation she had with you outside of classroom time,” he immediately validates. Because, yeah, this whole situation is bullshit. And you know what? Eddie kind of hates this principal, too. Maybe he has a little bit of a bias, but that doesn’t matter. “She shouldn’t make anybody feel that way. You know what I think you should do? And fair warning, it’s kind of a big scary move.”

“What should I do?” Steve asks, his voice raspy from crying, but calm and curious.

“You need to talk to her boss. Explain to them what you told me. Calmly, by the way. You have to keep your head on your shoulders,” Eddie explains. “But I know that you can. Because you seem a bit better, right?” Steve nods. “Just rung out now, huh?” Again, Steve nods. Sometimes the words are too big for his mouth, the emotions having already been large enough for his chest. “And that’s okay,” Eddie tells him, validating again. “I’ll order in our dinner. Put on a movie. And we can just cuddle. I don’t expect anything more out of you.”

“Okay,” Steve tiredly mutters. He does sound small. Like he’s a teenager all over again, not well into middle age. “Will you help me figure out the words to explain again? Just so I don’t make a fool out of myself?”

“Of course,” Eddie agrees. “But I think we should do that tomorrow after your day, okay? I think today’s been enough of a burden for you.” He runs his palms down the sides of Steve’s neck, over his shoulders, down to his hands and holds him gently. “I’ll grab your pajamas. You get comfy. And remember that I love you. And you’re enough. And you do such a good job at what you do.”

Steve smiles softly at him. “I love you, too,” he whispers. And that, in itself, is enough of a thanks for Eddie.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #steddielovemonth #day 19

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rottingparts · 11 months

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Taste

[Ironhide x Fem!Human!Reader x Ratchet]

Summary: You like the Autobots... Specifically Ratchet and Ironhide. You are sure no one ever has to know, but when a coworker confesses to you things go down hill fast.

Word Count: 2,200+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI! Not beta'd, Oral (Fem Receiving), mentions of anxiety, weird guy behavior (not from the bots), nothing too bad, let me know if I should tag something though!

A/N: This was written because I'm very self indulgent and cringe is dead! That being said, this was written with Plus Sized!Reader and also Neurodivergent!Reader in mind! BUT! It doesn't have to be read that way! Also, this isn't set in a specific movie. Everyone is alive and happy :)

No one had to know you adored alien robots, no one needed to know. Especially your earth friends. Or the robots themselves for that matter. Absolutely no one was going to know. It was definitely a secret you could and should keep to yourself.

You had been working closely with the autobots, and had ended up in the lab with several of them, helping with whatever they needed. Ratchet seemed the most grateful for that. You were both learning and helping each other at the same time. He got to learn more about human culture and you got to learn about Cybertron.

That is where you started to realize you maybe liked robots a lot more than humans. Ratchet was so sweet and thoughtful.

One day, while working with Ratchet, Ironhide entered the lab. You had little interaction with him before that moment and were honestly kind of nervous around him. But as you got to know the weapons specialist you started to like him as well…

But… No one had had to know.

Until, one of your scientist friend’s decided to drop the worst bomb possible right in your lap.

“Hey.” A voice that was not Ironhide’s or Ratchet’s rang through the lab. You rolled your eyes involuntarily before turning around to look at him. “We need to talk.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widened momentarily, “That’s a good way to greet someone, Mark.”

“What?” Mark looked taken aback.

“I have anxiety, that’s not a thing I generally like to hear…”

“Oh,” Mark visibly grew anxious, causing you to mimic the panic. “Well, I just, I wanted to ask you out-”

You froze, “Like on a date?”

“I mean, like if you’re into it-”

“I’m sorry,” You interrupted him quickly, not thinking much about him not finishing his sentence, “You’re my friend-”

It was his turn to cut you off. “You’re friend zoning me? I like you a lot!”

“You can get over that, don’t worry.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Is this- Are you-”

You cocked your head at him as his wheels turned in his big scientist brain. Something clicked. But not necessarily correctly. Wires crossed somewhere.

“You’re fucking the robots!” His voice echoed through the lab.

You figured ‘No, but I want to be,’ was not a tactful answer. So, you did the next less tactful thing. Which did not help your case at all. You grew defensive, and yelled back. “No!” It sounded more like a question than a statement. “Why would I- What are you on about?”

“You hang out with- with those-”

“Autobots.”

“Shut up!” He was growing furious. Your eyes widened and you decided to get the fuck away from him. Without thinking you turned to walk away and his hand grabbed your shoulder, turning you right back around. “You are fucking the robots!”

You were frozen. The large hangar door opened and Ironhide and Ratchet walked in, seemingly aware of the yelling.

“What’s going on?” Ironhide’s voice was gruff and his optics were narrowed. “Why are you yelling at Y/N?”

You swallowed. “You aren’t helping my case…” You turned around, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Wow,” Mark scoffed, “you picked these two?”

“Picked us for what?” Ratchet cocked his head.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Mark rolled his eyes, “I figured out she was with you two.”

“Are you delusional?!” You finally snapped at him. “They would never like me like that! Drop this shit, get over me, and fucking leave!”

Mark stood there, staring at you, gawking. This time, whatever he was thinking, was definitely right. “You… You do like them…”

Ironhide crouched down, closing in on the scientist. “It’s best if you leave.” He growled out. “She won’t ask again.”

Mark gulped and decided it would be best to leave. You groaned and placed your head in your hands. “Thanks for that,” You sighed. “I didn’t know if he’d ever leave me alone.” You stood up straight and looked at Ironhide and Ratchet, “Well… Um. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“It’s mid afternoon, you do not go to sleep until after dark. Usually around ten o’clock.”

“Why do you know that?” Ironhide interrupted Ratchet.

“For the exact same reason you know what time Y/N is gonna be in the lab everyday of the week.”

Ratchet spoke with a matter of fact tone. He crossed his arms and for a moment, a brief moment, Ratchet and Ironhide’s optics met and they seemed to be glaring at each other. You were fast to jump in and break it up.

“Hey! I find it enduring! It’s nice you’ve picked up on those things! Well… It is a little weird that you know what time I go to bed… Who needs that knowledge?”

“Exactly!” Ironhide threw his servos up, “It’s weird!”

“But!” You went to reassure Ratchet, “It definitely isn’t as weird as what just happened!”

There was an awkward silence, one that you could only smile for so long for. Yoursmile grew awkward and your eyes went from Ratchet, to Ironhide, back to Ratchet, and dropped to the ground. You scratched the back of your neck and swallowed hard.

“Mark was right, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not fucking anyone!” Your hands went up and your eyes widened. “No,” Ironhide grumbled, his optics rolling, “he said you liked us. And I’m assuming he means the kind of ‘like’ that means you want to be more than friends.”

You did the only thing you could think of, “Aw, do you guys count me as a friend?”

“This isn’t about us.” Ironhide started.

“Yes it is.” Ratchet finished. “And yes we do. But, speaking for both of us here, we ‘like’ you.” He put air quotations around the word ‘like’.

Your eyes widened and you smiled. “Really?!”

Ironhide looked like he wanted to beat the shit out of Ratchet, but only briefly. “Don’t ever speak for me again.” His voice rumbled, and he glared at Ratchet. Then he turned towards you, optic ridges resting, causing his optics to soften slightly, and he crouched down to your level. “You seemed awfully enthusiastic at that confession-”

“I like, um- I would love to be more than friends with both of you…” Ratchet lit up, Ironhide close behind. You all three stood there a moment. “What now?” You asked. “I’ve never confessed to anyone, much less two someones.”

Ironhide and Ratchet seemed about as confused as you were, until an idea struck you. “Remember, Ratchet, when you said you wanted to learn more about human anatomy… Up close, and personally?”

It clicked for both Ratchet and Ironhide. Immediately they were closing in on you. “Wait!” You put our hands up. “We don’t need anyone walking in on us… I’ll lock the main doors, you go lock the hangar door. And, someone take care of the camera-”

Ironhide was quick to obliterate the camera in the corner of the room. Your eyes widened at his eagerness and you ran towards the door to lock it. You were back at the center of the room in what felt like seconds and you waited for Ratchet to return after he locked the door.

“Where to start…?” Ironhide examined you closely.

“I could get rid of these clothes for starters.” You were eager to begin stripping, and you were quickly exposed to them, standing in your underwear. Vulnerability hit and you began fidgeting. You weren’t sure where that burst of confidence came from, but it was suddenly gone.

“We do not have to do this. Not now, if you don’t want to.” Ratchet noticed your nervousness.

“Um, no! I want to! Really!” You swallowed hard, sure the sound echoed through the room, “Uh, I've never been this exposed in front of uh, Cybertronians…?” You sounded confused, your arms hugging you tightly.

“No worries,” Ironhide was closer to you than Ratchet, his optics observing you, “We’ve never never been this close to an organic before-” He looked like he wanted to get rid of your underwear.

Ratchet moved closer to you when you dropped your arms to your sides and it was his turn to observe. He reached out for you and even though you did not flinch away, he paused. “May I?” He politely asked.

“Of course.”

One of his fingers touched your stomach and when you sucked in from the cool feeling, Ratchet flinched back. You reassured him you were fine and he continued. “You are very soft,” He made mental notes. His hand grabbed for your waist and gave you a gentle squeeze. He pulled away and Ironhide started to butt in.

“My turn.”

Ironhide needed to know how soft you were. He grabbed for your thigh and the soft flesh moved with his hand. Ironhide cocked his head and looked at you. “Comfortable enough to get rid of these?” When you nodded, he asked another question. “Are they important to you?” You shook your head. They were ripped from you. The cool air caused you to gasp and close your legs.

“Why is it so damn cold in here?” You groaned.

“I don’t think you’ll be cold much longer…”

You relax and inhale deeply. With legs still slightly crossed, you reach to undo your bra. You let it fall to the floor and Ironhide and Ratchet are both very close to you again, looking at your breasts. You can’t help but awkwardly smile at them, Ironhide reaching out to touch them.

“I never knew how soft you would actually be-” Ratchet was in awe. “-I could just-”

He didn’t know what he could do. Him and Ironhide were stunned. Ironhide made the first move. “Get on the table right there.” With a nod, you obliged. You hopped onto the cool table and awaited more instructions. “Hm,” Ironhide was taking mental notes now, “You are very obedient.”

“She deserves a reward.” Ratchet was smiling.

“She’s much too small for our spikes-” Your eyes widened at Ironhide’s words, “-but I think I know a way to reward her.”

Ratchet did not have time to ask ‘how?’. Ironhide was moving too fast for Ratchet to have time to say anything. Your thighs were gently grabbed, Ironhide’s large servos being extremely gentle with you. Your legs were spread and Ironhide was in your business instantly. You leaned back slightly and waited for Ironhide’s next move.

“You aren’t much different than us in this department.” Ironhide examined you closer than before. “Can I- Hm, can I taste you?”

You wanted to hide your face. “Sure-” That was all it took. Ironhide’s head was between your legs, practically keeping them spread. His tongue was lapping at you, slowly at first. His optics were closed and he was obviously focused on every inch of you. You fell back on your forearms, resting them on the cool metal of the table. You stifled a moan.

“Be loud.” Ratchet blurted out, “We want to know how you feel.”

You nodded and as soon as Ironhide found your clit you let out a loud moan. Your head fell back and your eyes shut. A soft hum fell from your lips and your breathing quickened.

Ironhide kept doing his thing and caught on very quickly on what pace you liked and how roughly he could hold you.

“Ironhide-” You moaned out, “I’m gonna-” Your nails were digging into your palms. Ironhide understood. Your hips bucked upwards and Ironhide rumbled against you. It drove you over the edge. You were coming undone against his mouth and Ironhide was smiling against you.

A loud moan echoed through the lab as you came. You had half expected Ironhide to keep going, but suddenly, the feeling of him between your legs was gone.

“My turn,” Ratchet mimicked Ironhide’s earlier words.

“Did you just pull me away?

“Yes, I would like a taste,” Ratchet positioned himself between your legs, not even giving Ironhide his attention when he talked. Ratchet’s servos placed themselves on your waist and you leaned back again.

Ratchet was quick to begin to tongue fuck you. His tongue swirled around your clit before licking stripes up your pussy. His optics were not closed. They stayed on your eyes. He maintained eye contact with you as he ‘tasted’ you. He would slowly blink at you, and you were too stunned to look away.

Your hips bucked and Ratchet was quick to push them back down. You let out a soft whine and looked over at Ironhide briefly, who was just… watching. You looked back at Ratchet and everything in you started to tense. A knot formed in your stomach and you were coming undone again.

“Ratchet!” You exclaimed with eyes shut, head thrown back, and body tensed. Ratchet did not slow. You were squirming beneath him. “Fuck!”

A knock came from the hangar door. The only thing causing Ratchet to stop in his tracks.

You writhed with pleasure once he let you go, not registering the knock. You lied on the table and heard Ironhide shout something. You looked up and saw Ironhide with your clothes in one of his servos. He was trying to hand them to you.

“Hey,” Hound yelled from the other side of the hangar door, “Why do-” He paused, “Why do I smell… ‘Fluids’?” As soon as the words left his mouth were rushing to get dressed. “Is there a human in there?”

“Go away!” Ratchet yelled back.

“Ratchet and Ironhide?” Hound bellowed back, laughing loudly, “You both have a human in there?”

“The other scientists,” You started, finishing getting dressed, “they’re going to be here soon, asking about that camera. I should go…” Ratchet and Ironhide looked at you, optic ridges rising. “But, this doesn’t have to be it, not if you don't want it to be!”

Ratchet and Ironhide nodded, “We aren’t done with you yet.”

#valveplug #transformers smut #bayverse transformers #transformers #transformers bayverse #ratchet #ironhide #ironhide x reader #ratchet x reader

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callsign-magnolia · 11 months

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 9

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, trauma response, abusive parents.

Word Count: 6.9k

Chapter 8 | Masterlist

I eventually fell back asleep on the couch before waking up and making breakfast. I changed out of my pajamas and into some yoga pants Kelly convinced me to buy and a soft shirt. I attempted to watch a movie, but without glasses or contacts I couldn’t see clearly. I had to stand smack in front of the tv to see and it was annoying so I gave up. Once the movies were over I got bored and the thoughts crept in. What if my dad knew and confronted Jake at work? What if something happens to his jet and he crashes? What if I didn’t cut the stove off and catch the house on fire? At that thought I jumped up, going into the kitchen and making sure I did in fact, cut the oven off. I sighed in relief when I did and walked away, but suddenly stopped, turning back around and looking again because I forgot what I just saw. I huffed, turning back into the living room. I tapped my foot, and looked at my phone seeing it was only noon. I huffed, laying my head back. You’re nothing without us. My mother’s voice echoed in my brain. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to go away. I decided to distract myself by looking for eye doctors in the area. I looked through reviews finding a handful that I would consider until I finally found one. I stared at the number, it practically glared at me. Maybe I could have Jake call? God no. I need to do this myself. I’m a grown woman, I can do this myself. I dialed the number and it rang twice before a friendly voice answered. “How can I help you?” She asked. “Hi um… my name is Katie Blair and I need to make an appointment.” I heard typing on the other end and she hummed. “Have you been with us before?” I shook my head. “No.” More typing. “Okay, the next opening we have is Wednesday at four-thirty.” I nodded. “That works.” I agreed. “Great. We’ll see you Wednesday. Have a nice day.” She said and hung up. Once that was done, my mothers voice crept back into my head. You’re an ungrateful little shit. You’ll die out there on your own. You’re hard to love. Tears welled in my eyes and I grabbed my phone, pulling up Bradley’s number.

Can we talk when your free?

I text him, hoping he would respond eventually. I laid back on the couch, taking deep breaths and trying to clear my mind. Eventually my breathing evened out and I slipped into unconsciousness. “Darlin’.” I jumped awake, startled by the voice and the hand on my arm. “Hm.” I sat up as Jake sat next to me. “How long have you been asleep?” He asked and I glanced at the clock. “Shit. Four hours.” I said, face planting the soft couch. He chuckled, rubbing my back. “Must’ve been tired.” He said and I scoffed. “Something like that.” I said. “Well, I’m gonna go shower. I’m thinking steak for dinner? I put some in the fridge to thaw this morning.” He said as he got up, heading to his room to shower. “I can start it." I said as I sat up. "You sure?" He called down the stairs as I nodded, stretching. "Yeah." He's letting me live here rent free, the least I can do is make him dinner. I went into the kitchen, pulling out the steaks, then rifling through his freezer for sides. I found some asparagus and some potatoes in the pantry. I was halfway through cooking the steaks when he came in, shirtless. He didn't notice but it took me a second to avert my eyes. "Is it just us tonight?" I asked and he hummed. "Yeah, Kelly is working late tonight." I nodded as I finished the steaks, letting them rest as I tossed the asparagus into the same pan with some garlic.

"Damn that smells good." He said, coming to stand next to me. I smiled, practically keeping over the compliment. "My mom wasn't completely useless." I remarked and he laughed. "Guess not. Anything I can do?" He asked. "You can go ahead and cut the potatoes open. Give them a chance to cool a little before I burn the shit out of my fingers." He just chuckled and sliced them open. Soon dinner was done and I made him go sit down. "I can make my own plate." He said. "I can make my own plate." I mimicked. "No shit. But I'll bring it to you." I said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not winning this one Jake. Go sit down." I said with a more stern tone and after a second he did as I asked. I smirked, plating everything and walking it out. "See. Not that hard." I remarked and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah." I waited patiently with a smirk on my face as he took the first bite and his eyes went wide. "You're telling me that we ate out the past two nights and you can cook like this?" I laughed as he ate more. "And it's even medium rare! How did you know?" I shrugged. "It's the only way my parents eat it, so it's the only way I know how to cook it." I said, starting in on my food. "Yours medium rare too?" I nodded. "That's the only way I've ever eaten it. Mom would make steak and she refused to cook it differently for me."

Dinner was great and we talked about our day, but once we were done the mood changed. "I have something to tell you, but I need you to not freak out." He said, sitting up in his chair. My heart started racing a million miles a second. What could he possibly have to say? "We overheard your dad talking to Cyclone." Why would he be talking to Admiral Simpson? He doesn't like him. "He's going around asking everyone to keep an eye out for you. Apparently when they came home and saw that you were gone, they called the police and tried to say that you were kidnapped." My chest started heaving and I was trying to calm down. But now not only were the police looking for me, so was practically everyone on base. "Oh my god." I said as tears built in my eyes. "Hey, no darlin'." Jake said as he took my hand, squeezing it in his. "The police say you probably just left. You packed a bag and took your purse, so they think you just walked out of there. They aren't looking for you." I sighed in relief, feeling better about that. "But you should lay low for a while. If anyone from base sees you, then your dad will know." I nodded, taking deep breaths. "I can do that. I can lay low." I muttered. "Good. I'll clean the kitchen." He said, grabbing my plate and standing. "I can help Jake." I said as I stood. "You cooked, I'll clean. Go do something." He joked and I huffed but did as he said. I went up to my room to plug my phone in, setting it on the small white bedside table. But something light blue caught my attention. It was in my suitcase, wadded up at the very bottom. I grabbed it, feeling the soft material in my hands but even in the dark I knew what this was. My favorite Tiffany blue dress, and the one Blake ripped. I could still see the droplets of blood that fell on it.

Do you have any idea how this makes us look?

Sometimes giving people what they want makes life a lot easier.

The words flooded my brain, remembering every moment of that night. Including the way his hands felt on me, the way they practically slithered under my dress. I felt disgusted with myself. I should've done more than punch him and I should've walked out of that house no matter what. But I couldn't. I was a coward and I fell right back into their trap like an idiot. Tears filled my eyes as anger grew within me like a fire being fed oxygen. The rip in the dress reminding me just how close I came to having my own choices ripped away from me. I turned rushing down the stairs, stomping on the way down. Hard enough I probably shook the house. "Katie?" Jake asked from behind the couch. I attempted to blow past him, but he caught my arm and I stopped. "Jake. Let me go." I said calmly, trying not to have a breakdown. I was so tired of crying, I wanted to be done with my emotions. "Darlin', let me see it." I shook my head. I couldn't let him see it, he'd absolutely lose it. "No. Just let me throw it away." He shook his head. "Trash wouldn't have you this upset." We stood in silence for a moment, me not looking at him, when he suddenly yanked me towards him and he snatched the dress from my hands. "Jake!" I yelled and he held the dress up, furrowing his brows in confusion. “What is this?” He asked, he looked close at the blood stains, his jaw clicking in anger. “Is this yours?” He asked lowly. I shook my head. “No, it’s Blake’s.” He looked at me for a second. “When you broke his nose.” He said in realization. “But the rip…”

“That was when I managed to get out from under him and he grabbed the neck line. It ripped when I got out of his truck.” I muttered. “What?” His eyes flashed to me and I could tell he was angry. I opened my mouth to respond but he stopped me. “What do you mean, ‘Get out from under him’?” He asked. “When my dad forced me on that date, he stopped just before taking me home. He stuck his hand under my dress and I smacked it away. He said that Coop told him I could be difficult and then he yanked me down in the seat and-” I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. “He pushed my dress up…” I was trying not to sob and took another deep breath and suddenly my face was grabbed. This was different from any other time my face was grabbed. Jake’s hands were gentle as he held my face, making me look at him. “Did he hurt you?” I wanted to shake my head no, but he kind of did. “Sort of.” He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean, sort of?” He growled. “When he grabbed my leg, he left some bruises.” I muttered, not meeting his eye. “So he didn’t force you into anything?” He asked. “No.” I shook my head. “I didn’t give him the chance.” I saw his lips twitch, as if he wanted to smile but he didn’t. “Can I please throw the dress away?” He looked at the dress in his hand and smiled. “I have a better idea.”

So he dragged me outside and off the back deck to a small fire pit in the yard. He handed me the dress and started up the fire. Once it was roaring he stepped back, looking over at me. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded, looking down at the dress in my hands. I took a step closer, stopping just in front of the fire before tossing it in. I watched as it went up in flames, burning away until it started turning to ash. Jake’s arm went around my shoulder, tucking me into his side. “How you feel, darlin’?” He asked and I took a deep breath. “A little better. But it’s gonna take some time.” He hummed, catching me off guard as he once again kissed my head. “Take all the time you need, darlin’.” We stood in silence until a thought crossed my mind. “Fuck.” I muttered and Jake looked down at me again. “What’s wrong?” He asked. “There are some pictures on my old phone that I need. If I access my old iCloud do you think my parents could get my new number or track me?” I asked and he shrugged. “You have a new email and everything so personally I’d delete the old one. One less thing your parents have to track you down with.” I nodded and rushed upstairs, grabbing my phone. I quickly got into my old account and grabbed the pictures I needed from storage and saved it to my phone before deleting it. I was sitting in a chair not far from the fire, looking at the pictures when I felt a presence behind me. I looked up to see Jake looking at my phone. “Is this after?” I nodded, allowing him to see the pictures. “I took them, just in case. I didn’t think about it when I left my phone at my parents.” He hummed, swiping over one. The bruises on my thigh glared at me. They weren’t bad but they were noticeably finger shaped.

Jake inhaled deeply before disappearing inside. I felt bad, these pictures seemed to bother him a lot and I didn’t want anyone worrying about me. I stared into the fire, my eyes locking on to the last piece of the dress burning. The beautiful blue color turning black from the immense heat, but I was brought out of my thoughts by something cold and wet. I looked over to see Jake offering me a bottle. I took it with furrowed brows, looking at the label. “Decided I needed one, so I thought I’d offer you one too.” He said as he pulled the other chair closer to me, sitting back in it as we watched the fire. He twisted the cap off, and set it on the arm of his chair, taking a sip. I looked down at my own bottle, attempting to twist the cap off but to no avail. “Oh, sorry.” He said taking the bottle from me. Irritation built in me at the action. I could’ve done it if he gave me another chance. “Kelly always needs me to take hers off. Didn’t think about you possibly needing it too.” I huffed. “I almost had it.” I muttered. His head snapped to me and his brows furrowed. “You okay?” Don’t let him know you’re mad, it never ends well. I looked at him with a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I asked and he leaned back in his chair again. “You just sounded mad.” I shook my head. “Oh, no I’m good.” I took a sip of the beer immediately spitting it out. “Oh my god! How do you drink that shit?” I asked and he laughed, attempting not to spit his own beer out. “Do you not like it?” I shook my head, handing him the bottle. “God no!” He set the bottle down next to him as I attempted to get the taste out of my mouth. “Have you ever drank before?” I nodded. “A few times but it’s only ever been wine. Mom doesn't drink anything else so that’s really all I’ve ever had.” I said and he nodded. “I’ll get you some when I go to the store next time. What’s your favorite?” He asked. “Chardonnay.” He chuckled. “Fancy.” He said in a posh tone, making me laugh.

The next day Rooster agreed to talk to me and came over once him and Jake were done for the day. I slipped on a square neck floral dress and opted for some of the white platform sandals Kelly bought for me on Sunday. It was weird to put on shoes that were flat but they were so comfortable. I grabbed my purse just as the doorbell rang and rushed downstairs. “Rooster? What are you doing here?” Jake had been home all of twenty minutes and I had been getting ready so I hadn’t even spoken to him yet. “He’s here for me.” I said as I walked over. “You?” Jake asked, looking at me and I nodded. “I asked if we could talk and he agreed.” Jake nodded, motioning Bradley in. “Oh, then come on in, I'm cooking and Kelly will be here soon.” I bit my lip, wondering how to tell him we were leaving. “Uh, Jake?” I asked and he turned to me. He looked at me with a wide smile. “It’s a private conversation.” I said, pointing out the door. “Oh, then y’all can sit out front, I don’t care. I have a porch for a reason-” “We’re leaving.” I said and he stopped again, looking at me once more. “Leaving?” I nodded. “Bradley thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house so we’re going for a drive.” Bradley nodded. “Figured we’d stop for dinner too.” He said with a wide grin. “But I’m cooking.” He said and I immediately felt bad. “Well… you and Kelly haven’t had much alone time since I got here!” I suggested. “We’ll probably be gone for a few hours so that’ll be good and if there’s leftovers I’ll eat them tomorrow for lunch.” I suggested. “Uh yeah. Yeah, that works. Um, Rooster? Can I talk to you for a second?” He nodded and stepped inside. “I’ll wait out here.” I said and stepped outside, closing the door.

After a few minutes Bradley and Jake came outside. “Ready?” He asked and I nodded. “I’ll see you later.” Jake said, kissing my temple and dipping back inside. The door shut and I stared at it for a second. “You have quite the protector there.” Bradley said as we walked out to his car. “I’ve come to see that.” I said. “Oh, I love your truck.” I said as he opened the passenger door for me. “Thanks.” He helped me in and he shut the door as I buckled the seatbelt. He got into the driver's side, smiling at me. “Jake was going on and on about how I had to be careful that no one from base saw you, as if I haven’t been hearing the same things he has.” He said as he started the truck. Once we started down the road, the wind picked up and it felt nice. He had the top off, allowing the sea breeze to blow by as we drove along the coast. The sun blinded me as we drove, my hand resting on my forehead to shield them. Rooster reached into the glove box in front of me and produced a pair of raybans identical to his. “You sure?” I asked and he nodded. “They’re my spares.” I smiled, taking them from him and putting them on my face, getting instant relief. “So what’d you wanna talk about?” He asked as he pulled up to a red light. “Um…” I said, not knowing how to start. “Shit, this is harder than I thought.” He chuckled, looking at me. “Lay it on me.” He said, his smile making me feel more comfortable. “I hear my mom’s voice in my head.”

He nodded slowly. “I do too.” I was a little shocked at his statement, looking at him from across the bench seat. “What does she say?” I asked and he smiled. “That she loves me. If I'm struggling she reminds me I can get through it.” I nodded, just wishing those were the things I heard my mother say. “What does yours say?” He asked, glancing over to me as if he already knew. “Basically that I’m a fuck up. On Sunday I thought I pissed off Kelly and I heard her voice in my head saying, ‘you probably did. you’re good at that.’.” I huffed, playing with my fingers in my lap. “Katie, I’m sorry.” He said and I shook my head. “I’m used to it.” I said and he shook his head. “But you shouldn’t be.” He was completely right. I shouldn’t be used to it, but I am. “Jake suggested therapy. He said his was mostly work related, but you have experience with personal things.” He hummed, nodding. “I do. My dad died when I was two in a training accident here at Top Gun. Mom died when I was seventeen. Brain tumor.” My heart broke for him. “I wish I could trade with you.” I said, leaning my head back against the seat. He didn’t say anything, but a part of me felt like he agreed. “When was your first time?” I asked and he was quiet for a moment. “I was six. Dad had been gone four years at that point. I got off the school bus and mom met me on the porch. She had on one of his naval academy jackets. It still smelled like him because she never washed it and when I hugged her, I had a panic attack. She decided at that point I should see a therapist.” I nodded. “Did you ever stop going?” He nodded. “Around high school. But I started again when mom died.” I nodded. “Did you know Mav is my godfather?” I looked at him wide eyed. “Really?” He nodded. “My dad was his RIO and they were best friends. Mav was there the day I was born and he was there the day mom died. We had a falling out when he pulled my papers for the naval academy.” I frowned. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Bradley.” He chuckled. “But I wanted to, plus it’s easy to open up to you.” I smiled at him, happy he felt comfortable enough to share this with me. “I used to be so angry at the world, people around me, for things they had no control over. Being in therapy has made me a better person. I used to be hot headed and I can still be occasionally, but I’ve learned I don’t have to be mad anymore.”

“What’s therapy like?” I asked. “A lot of talking. In my case a lot of yelling, a lot of tears but I always feel a hundred times better coming out than I did going in.” I nodded. We drove a little longer till we got to this pier and he pulled into a parking spot. “What are we doing here?” I asked. “Getting dinner.” He said with a smirk before he got out. “Oh.” I unbuckled and opened my door. “Woah.” Rooster said, coming over and helping me out. “I can do it myself.” I said and he chuckled. “I know. But my mom is probably rolling in her grave because I didn’t open your door.” He said and I giggled. “She seems great. I wish I could’ve met her.” I said as he placed his hand on my back, guiding me to the pier. “She would’ve loved you,” He said, making me blush. “I can hear her now, ‘Oh, Bradley! She’s just adorable!” I laughed at his imitation. We quietly walked over to this little shack and we stopped outside of it. “This place has the best burgers.” He said as he looked at the menu. “What do you want?” He asked and I looked at the menu. Everything looked good, but I stuck with the safe bet and got a burger and fries. The conversation was light and fun while we ate, but as I was finishing my fries it took a turn. “So, when you hear your mom in your head, what’s the most common thing she says?” He asked. You’re so hard to love, Katie. I took a deep breath, wiping my hands on the napkin. “The night I went on that stupid date with Blake,” His hand tightened around his cup, practically squishing it. “I attempted to leave. But my mom forced me to sit down and was telling me they did the things they did because they loved me.” I scoffed at my own words. “Just after that she told me I was hard to love.” I said, my eyes falling to my lap as tears formed in my eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be crying about this.” I said as I wiped my tears. Bradley got up, coming around and sitting next to me. “They’re still your parents, Katie. A part of you is always going to want their love.” I sighed shakily. “I don’t want to want it.” He sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Trust me, I wish you didn’t either.” He held me for a moment until I calmed down. “You done?” He asked and I nodded. “Come on. I got something that’ll make you feel better.” I stood and we went back up to the window and he ordered two chocolate milkshakes. “Glad I like chocolate.” I said and he laughed. “I had a feeling.” We walked back over to the bronco and he stopped, taking my milkshake. “Take your shoes off.” I furrowed my brows at him. “What?” He motioned to my shoes. “Take them off.” I knew there was no point in arguing, so I did it anyway. He handed me my milkshake and took his off before we tossed them into the bronco. "Come on." We made our way to the hill that the parking lot was perched on and he started down. I followed behind very slowly and very cautiously. "Need help?" He asked, holding out his hand for me and I lunged for it as I tripped. I grabbed it and he helped me steady myself as we continued down. "Don't let me fall." He just chuckled. "I won't." Once we were on flat ground he let go of my hand, chuckling at me. “You’re not gonna trip over your own feet are you?” I shook my head as we started walking down the beach. “It’s so nice out here.” I said as we walked along the beach. The sun was setting, there weren’t many people and the breeze was warm. “I like coming out here when I’ve had a hard day, or if I’m missing my mom.” I smiled at him. “And when you're missing your dad?” I asked and he chuckled. “I spend every day doing what he loved. I get up in that jet and I feel close to him.” It was nice knowing he had some way of feeling close to his parents.

We spent the next few hours sipping our milkshakes and walking along the beach. My parents never brought me to the beach the few times we’ve lived close to one so this was really my first experience. “So where did you grow up?” He asked and I shrugged. “Everywhere. We moved almost every year it seems like.” He nodded. “I never really got the chance to make friends, but we moved out here when I was sixteen and we’ve been here since.” He hummed. “Where were you born?” I chuckled. “Coincidentally, here. My dad was stationed here for a while and my mom went into labor with me.” I sighed. “She called it the worst twenty one hours of her life.” He scoffed. “She deserved the pain. But I’m happy you’re here.” He said, nudging me with his elbow. We made our way back up the hill and Bradley dropped the tailgate on the bronco. “Sit up here.” He said and I placed my hands on the tailgate behind me. As I jumped he grabbed my waist, making sure I got up and seated. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pulled a black bag closer to him, looting around in it. “Aha!” He said, pulling out a container of baby powder. “Baby powder?” I asked with a quirked brow. “Yep, helps get the sand off.” He sprinkled some on my legs and his before grabbing a towel and wiping them off. Once he was done there was no sand to be found on my skin. “Remind me to get some of that if I go to the beach.” I said, hopping down from the tailgate. Once he closed the tailgate, Bradley helped me into the car and shut my door before we took off down the road. It was dark now but the wind was still warm. It blew my hair around as we drove in silence, nothing but the radio on. But a few miles before we got back he turned to me. “So… gonna go to therapy?” He asked, looking over at me. “I think I’m going to try. I’m just scared.” I said and he smiled, grabbing my hand and holding it up. “You’ll be okay. It may take a few tries to find the right therapist for you, but when you do, it makes a world of difference.” Once we got to the house I noticed the lights were still on, which was odd. Jake seems strict about his sleep schedule and he should be heading upstairs by now. Kelly’s car wasn’t in the driveway so I assume she went home. Bradley helped me out, taking my hand in hopes I wouldn’t fall out.

The bang of the front door made me jump as Jake threw the front door open. “WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!” He yelled as he stormed off the porch and towards us. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” I whispered, quickly moving behind Bradley to shield myself. “I’VE BEEN PACING FOR THE PAST TWO HOURS!” He yelled and Bradley held his hands up. “Jake-” “I have tried calling and got no answer! I had no idea where the fuck she was, if she was still with you!” My hand gripped Bradley’s shirt as my heartbeat thrummed in my ears. “Hangman-” “No! Do you know how stressed I have been? I had no idea if someone saw you, if you ran into her parents-” “Hangman!” Bradley yelled and I became light headed, my adrenaline flooding my body. “She doesn’t need someone controlling her life! What she does need is someone who lets her have her freedom!” Bradley yelled back. Jake’s eyes shifted to me and immediately a look of guilt crosses his face. He sighed deeply, as if letting go of all the tension he’s felt. “Fuck.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair. “You’re right.” He said and it was like all the anger disappeared. “You can’t spend all your time worrying about her. She’s an adult.” He nodded, smiling at me. “I’ll be inside.” He said, motioning to the door before walking that way. “You okay?” Bradley asked, turning around to face me. “Yeah… he just really scared me.” He hummed. “I could tell. If your grip on my shirt was anything to go by.” he joked and a blush covered my cheeks. “Sorry.” He laughed before pulling me into a hug. “Don’t worry about it.” As if he could sense my emotions, he squeezed me tightly and immediate relief washed over me as I squeezed back. After a few seconds he let go and I felt a little better. “Something else your mom taught you?” He beamed with pride at my words. “Yeah, it’s something she did to me when I was stressed or overwhelmed.”

“Well, I’m tired so I’m gonna go in and go to bed.” I said and he nodded, yawning. “I’m gonna go crash in my bed.” He said, walking around the bronco. “Goodnight, Katie.” He smiled at me and I waved as I walked towards the porch. “Goodnight, Bradley.” I replied. He got in the bronco and started it, but waited until I was inside to leave. I triple checked that the door was locked before making my way through the dark house and into the guest room. I immediately stripped out of my clothes and grabbed some of the pajamas I packed when I left. It was a tank top and shorts combo. They were emerald green and satin and so comfortable. The little ruffles on the hem on the shorts made it cute, not that that really mattered. Once I changed I sat on my bed, pulling out some of the lotion I bought and started putting it on my legs. I thought back to Jake out in the driveway. He scared me so bad with all the yelling and when he rushed over, it was like my dad was stalking towards me and I just wanted to bolt in the other direction. Tears streaked my cheeks and my chest constricted. I sniffled, trying to stop my tears, but of course I couldn't. So I sat there on the bed, rubbing lotion in my legs as tears dripped onto the white sheets. “Katie?” Jake’s voice caught my attention as he knocked on my open door, breaking my dead stare from the chipping polish on my toes. I quickly wiped my tears, not wanting him to see me upset. “Oh, darlin’.” He said, coming over and sitting next to me on the bed. “Katie.” I didn’t want to look at him. I knew if he did I would just start crying again. “Katie. Please look at me.” He said and I didn't move. I was startled as his hand gently touched my face, turning me to face him. “Katie, darlin’. I’m sorry.” I shook my head, turning away from him. “No, it’s my fault. I should have looked at my phone and called you back.”

“No, Katie. It wasn’t your fault. I was just so worried and when I saw you get out of the car I was so… relieved. Then I was angry at Rooster.” I furrowed my brows. “Rooster?” He nodded. “Why Rooster?” I was the one that asked if we could talk, not him. “I know you’re safe with him, I know that.” He said, flopping back onto the pillows. “But just the thought of something happening to you, and I’m not there to…protect you? It kills me.” I chuckled. “Aw, do you care about me Jake?” I joked and I felt him grip my tank top, tugging on it to catch my attention. “It’s not a joke, Katie. Of course I care. I worry about leaving you here alone, when you left the house with Rooster.” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “When I woke up that morning, and you were gone, it was like pure panic took over. I was ready to go over to your parents house and kick the door in.” A feeling swelled in my chest at his words as I looked back at him. Having someone who cared for me was a new feeling and it’s gonna take some getting used to. I sighed, flopping back next to him, resting my hands on my stomach. “I wish you did.” I muttered and he turned to face me as I continued to look up at the ceiling. “I was stupid to think anything would change. But they played the part of loving parents so well.” I said as anger swirled inside me. “That’s one of the first times I remember my mother hugging me. I know damn well it was the first time my father did.” I started pulling on my thumbs, wondering if I would pull one out of socket.

“They apologized for everything. For the first time in my life they told me they loved me.” I said through gritted teeth. Jake sat up, leaning on the wooden bedframe. “Then I wake up the next morning with a lock on my door, my mother telling me i'm an awful daughter and that they could no longer handle me.” Tears filled my eyes again, but this time out of anger. “That feeling of hopelessness when I pulled and pulled on that door. I finally stopped beating on it when my hands started to bleed.” I wiped the tears, not wanting them to fall. “I begged and begged them to let me out. I leaned against that door for three days, hoping they would change their minds. I gave up on hoping it was a dream, I knew better. It didn't matter how much I begged and pleaded, all it got me was a day without food.” I felt his fingers thread through my hair, and it felt so good. “Katie.” I looked up at him through my lashes and he stared down at me in silence for a moment. “You didn’t deserve that. You know that right?” His words made my bottom lip quiver and I started to sit up when he stopped me, pulling me into him. I had never been held like this, but it was so comforting and I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around his waist. “What’s so wrong with me, that they couldn’t love me?” I asked as the tears flowed freely now, soaking his t-shirt. “Nothing, darlin’. Absolutely nothing.” He said. His words soothing me until I drifted off to sleep.

The next day when Jake got off work, he was swinging by to pick me up for my eye doctor appointment. But I was so distracted watching a show that I was running late, that being signaled by the sound of Jake’s horn on his truck. “Dammit!” I yelled, grabbing my shoes and hopping to slip one on before putting the other on at the bottom of the stairs. I rushed towards the door, purse in hand and I barely remembered to lock the door on my way out. I ran through the yard, yanking open the door and climbing in. “What’s going on? We’re gonna be late.” He said as we back out of the driveway. “I know we’re gonna be late.” I snapped, buckling and sitting back in the seat. “Gee what’s got you in a mood?” He asked and I scoffed. I wanted to snap at him again, but I thought better of it. He might just leave me on the side of the road, I joked to myself. We were silent the rest of the car ride, which was nice. I just couldn’t get it together today, which was odd for me. My hair was up in a bun with my bangs hanging loose, I didn’t put on any makeup or jewelry, not having any time. I just managed to slip on a sundress and sandals. Once we were there, I didn’t even wait for Jake. I just got out and walked up towards the door. “Katie. Katie!” He hissed and I stopped, turning to him. “Wait, let me go in first.” He said. “Why?” I asked in an irritated tone. “What if someone from base is in there?” He asked, walking in with me on his heels, ignoring his words. We went in and I pushed past him, going up to the front desk. “Katie Blair.” She immediately pulled up my info and I looked around. There was no one in the waiting room, making me feel a little better. “Hi, you must be Katie.” I looked over to see a very tall, very built man about my fathers age standing before me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, the fear settling in the pit of my stomach. “H-hi. yes… I’m Katie.” He just smiled at me as he shook his hand. “Well, if you’ll follow me.” I immediately turned to Jake, hoping he wasn’t so mad he wouldn’t come with me. “Would it be okay if my friend came with me?” I asked and Dr.Sparkman smiled.

“Of course.” We went into an exam room and I sat in the chair, Jake taking the chair beside me. We went through the usual motions of testing my eyesight, including dilating my eyes. “Well Miss Blair. It looks like from the last prescription you brought me, your eyesight has in fact gotten worse, and that goes for your astigmatism as well.” I sighed, hating that it got worse. “Do you want contacts and glasses?” I immediately shook my head. “Glasses only.” He nodded. “Very well, if you go out here we can get you set up with frames.” I grabbed my bag and Jake held my hand as we walked out, seeing as my eyes were still dilated and I felt unsteady on my feet. “Can you even see these?” He asked and I nodded. “Up close I can.” I said, grabbing a set of frames and holding them close to look at them. He chuckled as I looked around, holding each set close. I quickly noticed a pair of Kate Spade ones. They were a metal frame and the lenses were back and mostly rounded and rimless on the bottom. The stems were gold in color and the tips were black on the outside, but white on the inside with black polka dots. I looked at the price before quickly putting them away and moving on, but nothing caught my interest like they did. “See anything you like?” Jake asked from behind me, startling me. I sighed, setting another pair back on the rack. “No. I can get the prescription and order some online.” I said and he hummed, nodding. When I didn’t find anything I got my prescription, and we headed out. “Anything else you want to do while we’re out?” I smirked, rolling my head to look over at him. “Yeah, actually. Can we go to the bookstore?” He just smiled at me before busting out laughing. “Anything you want, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @wkndwlff @alltimereverie @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose @rosiahills22 @deanoheartspie @cornishkat @high-speed-r @fogle97 @mygyn @ohgodnotagainn @emma8895eb @senjoritanana @genius2050 @sandaltoesocks @mayhemmanaged @dempy @itsdesiree86 @callsign-athena @jstarr86 @brooke-stinson @rachkon @topguncultleader @bethbunnyy @topgun-imagines @clancycucumber230 @seitmai @kkrenae @djs8891 @shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @eugene-emt-roe @hisredheadedgoddess28 @littlewhiterose @formulapierre @wade-wilsons-chew-toy @bethabear12 @halstead-severide-fan

#undiagnosed #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake seresin top gun #jake hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for asking my dad to chew quietly?

I (23f) live with my parents (60s both of them) while I try to save for a house. My siblings also lived with our parents until after they graduated uni, i just graduated. I pay rent and buy my own groceries.

The issue is I may be neurodivergent. My therapist i just quit seeing refuses to label anyone, so I don't have an official diagnosis but I check most boxes that are symptoms.

I have this thing where I can't stand hearing people chew. It sends chills down my spine and makes me nauseous. Like nails on a chalkboard or how some people can't stand the sound of Styrofoam.

My dad snacks a lot. His favorites are chips and salsa or a handful of nuts. Which is fine! Except I can hear him chewing if the TV is off and we are in the living room (every other room there is no sound to distract).

At first I asked him politely to turn the TV on, and i explained his chewing was bothering me. He said that he's just chewing and didn't understand, but did so.

Except now he won't because he says i need to get over it. This isn't an every day occurrence. I have tried to leave the room, he gets frustrated. I have tried putting on headphones, which sometimes works and sometimes frustrates him.

If he was chewing normally, I know it would just be a me thing and would think I am the AH. However, I have watched him chew and he will open his mouth and chew then stop (for example, chew with mouth closed, mouth closed, mouth open, mouth closed, mouth closed, mouth open until the bite is finished and he swallows. The variations change, it isnt a set pattern).

We got in an argument last week about his mouth being open, he says it wasn't. He told me to grow up. This week he is doing it again and refuses to turn the tv on. My headphones died so I can't do that. To me, the crux of the issue is him chewing with his mouth open. I dont hear it when it is closed. So I recorded him without telling him, asked him to chew with his mouth closed or please turn on the tv, and he got upset. I showed him the video and he got more mad and said I was disrespectful and an arrogant brat. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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shrimpathizer · 2 months

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this is just a theory (i haven't looked into this bit that much) but I feel like the reason that misinformation is so wildly rampant in online communities about ADHD (probably also autism) is in part because of how inaccessible actual professional information about it is.

Like, I remember before I got my diagnosis (what started off this whole thing a while back), I was looking at the CDC website description of symptoms of ADHD with my mom and. If you thought you were neurodivergent and were looking at this thing trying to see if you should get tested, its basically saying "screw you. you're either a child who is going to be here because of their parents, or an adult who is also here because of another neurotypical."

one of the criteria was literally "is often 'on the go' acting as if 'driven by a motor.'" that means absolutely nothing. you are using undefined expressions to explain something to someone who historically is not good at understanding unexplained social norms (such as expressions).

plus, its incredibly subjective. "on the go" could mean something wildly different for one person then the next. and "often" could mean "all the time every day" or "only at school" or even "every other week." not to mention the memory issues that at least a lot of the people who I know with ADHD struggle with.

someone who might have ADHD has no way of knowing if they "often have trouble organizing tasks and activities" or if that is a normal amount. there is no way for them to easily know if they "often do not seem to listen when spoken to directly."

so it seems obvious to me, that they would turn to other people with ADHD. and the easiest place to find them these days is online. thats how I started wondering if I should get diagnosed. they're probably trying to find some other way to understand or know. and since its social media and social media is rampant with misinformation, of course they are going to be fed misinformation.

people are going to tell them "you see this weird thing that you do? I do that too. and its actually because of this much larger thing. trust me." and people will. because there really isn't much of another place for them to turn. they are going to self-diagnose with every disorder under the sun to make themselves feel at home and feel like they aren't weird or wrong.

maybe i'm way off here but I think that if you want people (teens in particular) to stop turning to social media for comfort and information, you should give them other resources that are accessible. that they don't have to pay to see, that they can understand clearly, that acknowledges all the weird things that they feel bad about.

and sort of as a side note: i remember in elementary school, early on (this might have just been my school/city/state), the school set up one of those mobile classrooms on the yard and would pull kids out for like a good couple months to do eye exams. because we've normalized that kids also have eye problems and thats normal. and maybe, could we also get a small little assessment. just to see if we can find neurodivergent kids early on and get them help so that they don't suffer for years and years.

and i'm not talking as someone who has had it hard. i have had it so easy compared to so many others. i have supportive parents and get good grades, and yet, i am constantly burnt out. i constantly feel horrible. not just because of depression. maybe i'm being too radical here but i feel like i shouldn't need a 504 plan to say that if i'm having a panic attack i can leave the room. that if i'm having trouble focusing i can go to the library or somewhere else. that i can get extensions on due dates. that i can see a copy of the notes or lesson for reference. i don't know maybe i'm just incredibly radical that i think people shouldn't have to be expected to work four times as hard to get anything done and then get blamed when they don't live up to the expectation. whether or not they are neurodivergent.

#miso speaks #vent post #rant #adhd #adhd things #adhd problems #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #neurodivergence #social media #misinformation #long post

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chris-continues · 1 year

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hello hello! could i ask for reader and knives stimming together? i feel like he'd be unused to acknowledging his own stims and maybe reader can help with that?

thank u!

I WAS LITERALLY THINKING ABT THIS YESTERDAY AAAAAAA

Getting comfortable with one another.

Knives and neurodivergent reader!

@coffinbeananteiku U FEED MY BRAINROT THIS HAS SOME OF WHAT WE TALKED ABT IN KNIVES CHANNEL

I always write my reader as neurodivergent as that is my experience, but I felt like prefacing it once again.

You continue scrolling down the page you’re reading on, glancing over to Nai once again. You should’ve been studying- really, you should’ve, but while researching you stumbled upon an article on the embalming process in Egyptian times, and you couldn’t just pass up the opportunity to look into it more!

So.. yeah, probably a bit of a rabbit hole. And probably a bit off task. And Nai is probably a bit annoyed as he huffs, “You should work on your essay.”

Shit- you were caught. “Hah, sorry. I got sidetracked reading this.” You wring your hands out with the other, looking down at your keyboard shamefully.

“Reading what?” He peeked over, adjusting his glasses to get a better look before his eyes widened. “Yeah, they used natron. Did you know it takes around 70 days for the body to fully dry out?” His fingers tap against his knee repeatedly, reading over your laptop before staring at the coffee table as he continues,

“And- ahem, they filled concaves of the body with linens due to the dried out state- hundreds of yards of linens, actually. Then of course traditional wrappings, but the ceremonial measures taken-“ he stops himself, knee bouncing slowing once his eyes turn to look at you. “Excuse me, I went on a tangent.” He clears his throat once more, adjusting to go back to work, to your dismay.

“Oh no no, I’m listening! I’m like super interested in this kinda thing, it’s really cool. Tell me more!” You smiled in an attempt to reassure him to continue, hands waving excitedly.

He was nothing short of utterly ecstatic as his knee continued to bounce, passion evident in his eyes, “They had, uh,” he pauses to think back on what he was saying, “Ritualistic ceremonies performed for the burial themselves by religious figures, such as them being the only ones permitted to wrap the final linen around the body.” He turns to check your reaction, and is definitely pleased to see you stimming happily.

“Keep going! I’m like- so excited to learn about this stuff, it’s nice to see you so passionate over it.” His eyes blink, once, twice- before once again speaking.

Nai goes over the whole process and listens intently as you share your knowledge, heavily impressed by your enthusiasm and enjoying yourself.

For once, studying is put aside as you go back and forth, occasionally interrupting excitedly only to assure the other it’s ok, because you don’t need to worry about social cues that don’t measure up to much. Just enjoying yourselves.

#autistic knives #knives x you #knives x reader #Chris writes #trigun stampede #millions knives #knives millions #happy stimming #stimming #autistic spectrum #autistic coded #neurodivergent #drabble #fanfic #college au knives

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ms-gallows · 10 months

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Leon Kennedy headcanons: Romantic Relationships

Reposting because tumblr ate it. Based on RE4 Remake Leon.

I said in a previous post that RE4 Remake Leon reminded me a little of Mr. Darcy. With his crush, he’d be more quiet than usual. Unsure of how to act on feelings (or if he should) and worried how his crush would react. Being slightly curt with his crush. Trying to sneak some stares and looking away just as he’s about to get caught. They would be certain that he dislikes them, when he’s really just nervous. They would never guess he had a crush on them because he’d seem so distant. But he would do some nice things behind the scenes. Overhear you saying you need to buy some trivial thing, you come back the next day and it’s on your desk. Stiffly suggests going out together, but just casually, of course. It’s not like he likes you or anything. Puts on a serious face and asks if you’d like to get coffee:

This is exactly the face he makes when he asks. This is a very serious situation. “Coffee. Would you join me for some?”

(RE2 Leon would have handled it differently. Still shy and awkward, but definitely less businesslike. More prone to blushing and chuckling nervously. “I was..um...wondering if you’d like to get some coffee. Sometime. Anytime-uh..”)

Now I think this cold/distant approach I’m describing is something that happens if Leon is actually romantically interested in someone. If he’s just looking to fuck he’s more suave and flirtatious. So if he has a one-night stand that turns into something more, his partner is going to be in a very awkward situation while he figures his shit out. He doesn’t seem like a romantic person, but the want for romance is definitely there. He’s just very pragmatic and task oriented. But in his heart of hearts, he wants something deep and intimate; a melding of two souls. He just doesn’t really indulge in those feelings because he thinks it won’t happen for him.

If someone gives him a very heartfelt and sincere compliment, he doesn’t really know what to do. He gets flustered internally and it doesn’t compute. Just kind of goes blank. That, or he laughs it off. Did they really just say that? Do I need to get my hearing checked? When pursuing women, he’s definitely got an urge to be gentlemanly. It can come off as a little traditional. He’s definitely egalitarian in his beliefs, he just falls back on convention with dating, ie: paying for dinner, giving his date his coat if she gets cold, etc. When pursuing men, that’s where he’s out of his element. In my headcanon, Leon didn’t accept he was into men until he was an adult. With women, he falls back on the conventions of dating, but with men, he has to rethink it. Do we split the bill? Do I pay? Does he pay? It’s easier for men to make him blush as well. When pursuing enbys, he’d be more careful and anxious. He’d probably still unconsciously take up a masculine role, but he’d ask a lot more about how they’d prefer he act. He doesn’t want them to be uncomfortable around him. Pays careful attention to how they want to present one day to the next if they’re fluid. (God damn it I want a fic of Leon finding out his crush is non-binary lol) Leon might take a little time learning to work with neurodivergent partners, but once he learns what they need, he’s very patient, understanding, and attentive to their needs. (sidenote: I adore autistic Leon headcanons)

Ends up dating normie women a lot, but has a soft spot for alternative women/men/enbys. They tend to enjoy the same music as him so he likes that. I get this feeling from Remake Leon specifically. I feel like OG Leon wouldn’t be interested in alt people that much.

Artistic types are foreign but intriguing to him because he doesn’t have a creative bone in his body. It would be so funny to see him getting with an academic nerd type? “I don’t care for this architecture. Who pairs Corinthian columns with Ogival arches?” “Yeah babe, it’s terrible.” (has no idea what they’re talking about) “Whoever is responsible must pay for this assault on my senses.” “I’ll get on that.” (sarcasm) He’s drawn to people who are intelligent and compassionate. People who are mature and capable of deeper discussion. Likes people he can learn from. Also a plus if someone can defend themselves or is willing to learn to. He doesn’t want to worry about their safety. It’s one of the main reasons he doesn’t look for a partner (for now...I’m sure there’s a breaking point. A dark sense of humor is also appreciated, though he typically makes sure to be sensitive with serious subjects himself. If you can get him to do a double take with a dark joke, he’s going to remember you. End: feel free to give feedback!

#leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re4 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #re2 #resident evil 2 #resident evil

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sutherkins · 11 months

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peter sutherland x neurodivergent!reader 💌

this is very self indulgent lmao. i tried to keep the mental stuff vague so you can hopefully imagine any mental illness in place of stuff besides the reader clearly having adhd because i have adhd. i hope anyone who reads this is able to relate and feel understood and comforted <3

warnings: mention of recreational drug use, reader is in between ages of 21-25 (i’m 23, so)

it’s not like you were opposed to telling peter about your medication. if he asked, you wouldn’t lie. you just didn’t want to be the first to bring it up. you knew you shouldn’t be ashamed of having to be on medication, and you knew he would never judge you, but you couldn’t help it.

that lasted for a couple months. your meds wore off around four or five in the afternoon and because of this, a lot of the time you got to spend with peter before he had to go to work was spent holding yourself back and trying to keep your symptoms closed off in an area he couldn’t see.

but now there was a problem. peter was somehow able to manage a couple weeks of vacation time in order to spend more time with you, real time he had always called it. he hated only getting to spend a couple hours with you each day just as much as you did, which was why he asked you to stay with him at a cabin he owned during his time away from work.

you said yes, of course. you figured he’d eventually find out during the trip, so you tried to relax at the thought of the conversation at the very least happening in a comforting environment. you’d just finished packing your bags when peter walked down the hallway of his apartment complex to your door and knocked. you smiled, you’d given him a key already so he didn’t need to knock, he came over all the time anyway. you liked that he did it anyways, always respectful of your privacy and space.

“you ready?” peter asked while grabbing your bags and walking them down to his car.

you nodded excitedly and hopped into the passenger seat, the car already full with snacks for the drive and your favorite music playing on the radio.

the two of you sat in comfortable silence until your meds started to kick in, kicking your energy into high gear and making it practically impossible for you to keep your mouth shut. you were worried he would start to get annoyed by so much chitchat but he didn’t seem to mind, intently listening to everything you had to say and responding when needed. he even laughed a couple times which was a victory in your book.

you arrived at the cabin soon after, beaming at the cabin and then at peter. “sorry for talking so much. i didn’t annoy you, did i?”

“of course not, pretty girl. it’s just your meds kicking in. nothing wrong with that. besides, i love listening to you.” he quickly grabbed the bags from his trunk and started leading you to the front door.

once you got inside you tilted your head, peter setting the bags down on the floor. “wait, how did you know i take medication?”

“i’ve seen it in your bathroom cabinet. ‘take one every morning’.” he quotes the label that’s printed on the bottle. “it’s for adhd, right?”

your face scrunched, “well, yes. i never outright told you so i just assumed you didn’t know. you don’t mind?”

peter grabbed your hand and led you to the couch in the living room, silently telling you to get comfortable while he got a fire started. “why would i mind? there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“no, i know. i mean, i know you know that too. my brain just…likes to lie to me sometimes. im guessing this also means you saw the other meds i take, then?” sighing, you squeezed his hand in need of reassurance.

“yeah. and just to repeat myself, there’s still nothing wrong with you or taking medication. whether it’s for adhd, anxiety, depression, insomnia… anything really. it doesn’t change the way i see you and it never has.” peter squeezed your hand in response, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

cheeks quickly turning red, you groaned and leaned your head onto his shoulder, hiding your face behind your hands.

he was having none of it, moving your hands and replacing them with his own, cupping your cheeks. “hey, hey, hey…none of that. you don’t need to hide with me.”

“i know, i know. i just need reminding sometimes.” smiling softly, you gazed at his loving expression, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth on your skin.

“i’m happy to do it.” moments pass before you hear peters voice again, now wavering from trying not to laugh. “im happy to try some of those edibles you have too. i saw you packed ‘em in your bag. did you really think i wouldn’t notice you getting high?”

“peter!” you poked his side until he fell backwards laying on the couch, your legs straddling his hips. “it’s for my anxiety. and for fun.” his hands immediately shift to rest on your waist, grinning up at you. “i think i’m a bad influence on you.”

he snorts. “oh, definitely. i kinda like it though.”

#peter sutherland x reader #peter sutherland x you #peter sutherland #peter sutherland fanfiction #peter sutherland fanfic #peter sutherland fluff #the night agent fanfiction #the night agent #the night agent fanfic #reader insert #gabriel basso #i have adhd and need to be comforted and cuddled by peter sutherland so here u go

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cult-of-the-eye · 5 months

Text

MAG 86 here we goooo

Ok so I actually listened to this like a few days ago but I never got round to looking at the transcript but HERE I AM

God this is the blanket never did anything one

He says tucked in so fucking menacingly like Jesus Christ man

TIM MY LOVE

I can't get that one post out of my head that says how Tim was the furthest from being taken by the Eye cause he keeps tripping up on pronunciations and stuff in statements that other archival staff wouldnt honestly it's such a genius take

Oh shit this is getting really long I'll add in a read more

God I love how he's rebelling in every sense, he's doing the bare minimum, he's literally warning people away from it

It's kind of interesting the way he always thought the statement stuff was stupid but in the whole of season one and a lot of season two he managed to hide his distaste pretty well, like even when he lashed out at Jon about the Prentiss incident, he still didn't say that the statements were stupid, but he's saying it behind his back - maybe some part of him knew that Jon needed the statements to work and some part of him still felt for him enough to not point that out

He's kinda dramatic with it as well but I feel like in more of a self aware way than jon

You can feel his distaste honestly the statement just sounds wrong coming from him, which is interesting cause I didn't think that about when Martin did it

So he's mad at the fact that he put effort into a job that he wasn't even that comfortable with in the first place and now he's trapped in? Not about the monsters??

Jesus Christ Tim being a bit of a dick to melanie

HE BLAMES MARTIN????? Damn bro you weren't there how could you tell he didn't do it properly??

I think he's mad at himself for not being there and deflecting it on to martin

She likes that it's quiet!!! That's cute

Martin's not big on change AH neurodivergent vibes

All the archival staff are literally queer and neurodivergent you can't change my mind

Also the fact that he thinks that's the biggest reason why martin doesn't want Melanie around, not the Horrors and the same reason as Tim

I think Tim is refusing to think that Martin might see the situation in the same way as him because if he does then it means Tim's way of dealing might not be the best way and that's an unacceptable thought to him

Suspicious and resentful - my man is self aware I think he knows the way his path is going (hurtling towards destruction) but is too stuck shaking his fist at god to try and get out or he's sort of known his whole life that this is where he was supposed to end up, a terrible fate created by his own two hands that dug their own way down to rock bottom and he's just so tired of trying to do anything about it that he's just accepted it

SASHA OH GOD

Wow seeing firsthand the effects of the stranger, the way neither Tim nor Melanie can remember the real Sasha, but Tim has to live with the fact that he didn't notice and Melanie has to live with the fact that she did, but can't prove it

WHO AM I EVEN SAD FOR

AUGH I THOUGHT SOMEONE MADE THAT UP I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS CANON OH GOD

He lost his FRIEND and he DIDN'T REALISE and he STILL DOESN'T KNOW THE WHOLE TRUTH AUGH

Oh I wonder why he left the tape running? I'd think he would've forgotten to turn it off but if so I feel like he'd have that shocked moment of remembering which he didn't

Maybe he wanted proof of the conversation? Maybe it was a warning to anyone listening to the tapes? See firsthand how terrible it is at the Magnus Institute so you don't work here? I dunno

Ha I had to ask my lovely mutual @melandrops to explain what a marker was

Oh god honestly this statement fucked me up I completely understand why people hate it I hate it

I was so scared of the dark as a kid and the idea of being reduced to that state of lack of awareness and vulnerability is actually terrifying

Also the dude dying in the blanket???? Ew ew ew

Love the fact that tma doesn't just go with a oh shit I forgot a torch so it was pitch black kinda horror but the I brought a torch, I even brought spare batteries but it still did nothing which in my opinion is even scarier

Oh god her whispering the blanket never did anything that was horrifying

Melanie was actually so good at giving the statement girl really got into it

I was also talking to @melandrops about archivist!Melanie cause I think that would be really interesting... she'd definitely bring a more proactive vibe to the role...

It's interesting to think that Melanie and Jon hated each other at first sort of because they're so alike? It's like the we are made of the same stuff (derogatory)

Love how she just checks out the dead guy

The way she's denying it even though she's literally had paranormal experiences before that's so Jon core she would be a great archivist

JON????

Oh shit I just realised he's labelled as Archivist...when did that happen??

That's so funny he's like bitch maybe I do have reason to kill you

Hmm nice touch of Melanie being like do you guys not want me cause I'm a girl?? Is this misogyny??? Good guess but unfortunately it's worse

It's quite nice that Jon's trying to save her even though the meetings about helping him and her quitting would mean he'd lose the one informant he might have in the institute

Shot in the leg by a ghost in India????

Ha Tim hates you and Martin's probably being watched

Love how Tim's hatred for Jon is so visceral and known that they don't even bother watching him

I bet Elias would delight in knowing about Martin's little crush on Jon and how Jon actually hated him in season one and then how their relationship progresses he'd thrive on the drama and the angst the little bastard

Ok ok it's good that he's on the right track, he guesses it was elias

Wait the whole murder was on tape... WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT TAPE??? DID ELIAS TAKE IT??? COULD IT BE USED AS EVIDENCE???

YES MELANIE IS BEING CAUGHT UP (info style) BUT ALSO NO MELANIE IS BEING CAUGHT UP (web style)

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yasemin-writes · 1 year

Note

Your adhd writing advice post was amazing advice. If you're able to, I'd love to know if you have anymore tips for neurodivergent writers + readers ❤️

lkjsdfadf thank you 🌝 ok oh god, didn't actually expect people to find it useful... Using "Advice" quite liberally, here's some stuff that works for me or my ND friends:

More Tips & Tricks for ADHD Writers

Body Doubling with other people. They work, you work, side-by-side. (Discord or Zoom with friends, at coffee shops or through body doubling apps.) -> only works for me if there's regular progress check-ins

Write With Me/Study With Me live streams or YouTube videos can serve the same purpose

Batshit goals. ADHD brains process time differently. That's why 3-month-goals don't work for us. Writing a novel in 2 weeks? Yeah, that I can do. Fuck "be kind to your mind" and embrace the chaos demon in your brain. Short-term-gratification is where the brain goes brrrrr.

ADHD brains mirror their surroundings. A lot. We mirror behaviours, speech patterns, accents. That means, I don't read books while working on a first draft or I'll start mirroring writing styles. (Audiobooks are fine for whatever reason.)

Write on whatever medium your brain demands. I'm currently revising a novel - the first draft of which was completely written in the notes app of my phone. Why? Cause my brain wanted to be on my new phone.

-> Not a recommendation, but a sidenote: I get obsessed with new tools/software, etc. - I'm (thankfully) able to splurge on a 20$ bluetooth keyboard just because it's pink and clic-clacs while typing. That turns into me writing non-stop for days because I'm obsessed with the new tool I got.

Brown Noise. Look it up.

Get a visual timer for your writing sessions. (Image) Nothing like pressuring yourself into productivity with the constant big red reminder that you should be writing faster, faster, faster. ESPECIALLY if you work with noise cancelling headphones. I recommend switching off the alarm, so if you drift into hyperfocus, it won't pull you out.

And some advice for ADHD Readers

The act of "reading" in and of itself often isn't enough stimulation for me. Especially starting a new book (Executive Function?!) -> once I'm hooked on the book, the need for outside stim usually fades

I try to combine reading with other activities:

I set Audiobooks at 2.0x speed while doing something with my hands, like drawing or repotting my plants.

Physical books are harder to get into, but walking on a slow treadmill works, or putting on the TV in the background (music isn't enough stim) - I also REALLY love reading on public transport

If you MUST read a book, for class or sth, and are struggling - get the matching audiobook. Put on the audiobook at a comfortable speed (2.0x for me) and read the physical book simultaneously.

And the big one:

Read what you're in the mood for. Sometimes that's a thick fantasy book with complicated worldbuilding and 5 sequels... sometimes it's a free & unedited monsterfucker ebook. If I'm not in the right mood for a specific book, reading will feel like work. Even if I've been looking forward to that book for years.

Also the OG post that the Ask is referencing was this:

#writing #writeblr #my writing #am writing #creative writing #adhd #adhd writer #writing tips #writing resources #writing advice #ND writing

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sophiainspace · 3 months

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Oh my god, the Discord server rules.

First, there's the server where you're not allowed to @ anyone unless they have a little bell in their name. My socially anxious people-pleasing ass has worked incredibly hard to learn this rule, until it's a reflex to turn off the ping as I reply to people. Seriously, everyone there seems to hate being mentioned with a ping - deeply, completely, prostrate yourself on the floor if you dare do the evil of the ping. I'm not even talking @everyone. Just any reply that sends a notification. A travesty, a murder, go directly to hell. (This means I now turn off the ping in servers where people want it.)

Then there's the server where you have to stick strictly to the subject matter of each channel or there will be a whole moral panic. There are three 'talk freely' channels, each with a slightly different focus, where believe me you cannot talk freely. That's before you get to the INFINITE LIST of subject channels. Oh yes, if a thing exists in the wide fucking universe, there will be a channel for it, and you will not set a foot out of the 'laundry' channel to discuss laundry in 'home', nor will you mention another household chore in the 'laundry' channel, or cursed be your progeny even unto seven generations.

Then there's the one where I read the rule "No mentions of religion or politics" and left immediately. Anywhere but Discord, I'd have thought this was minor hyperbole. But oh no. This is Discord. There are two or three of you around here who know what I do for work. You will get why I have never laughed so hard, as I imagined the scenario in which someone asked me what I did today and I mentioned in passing something I was working on and the ban-hammer came down so hard I was trebucheted directly to the Vatican, exiled there forever if you like religion so much, as the words would have flashed up on the black Discord screen.

Then there's the server where you can't spam. Which basically seems to mean no posting one line after another. Ever. I left that server after less than a day, anxiety spiking through the ceiling. I have RSD and constantly worry that I talk too much - there was going to be a terrible mess if I stayed, and the mess would be the puddle of liquid me all over the server floor.

Then there's the server that likes you to tag all spoilers (absolutely fair, this server is the only place with sensible rules honestly, given the series it focuses on.) Where I was briefly liveblogging about said completed series, but ended up hinting about too many things that I need to tag with each episode they relate to (in this case, potentially about 20 eps). Server folks are absolutely right that I should do this. It's just going to take more brain cells than I have left, after the above sets of rules HAVE DESTROYED MY TINY MIND. Love the server, might stick to their food channels.

Then there's the server where you can't backseat mod, and that's fine because I exist there to cause the trouble I can't in the above servers, and the mods can mod me. Just as long as I'm careful not to get thrown out. Since there's nowhere else I can actually talk about my fandoms without stepping on the garden rake of a ridiculous rule and doing a Sideshow Bob for hours.

I like all these servers. Brilliant, wonderful, full of great people. Also full of people with interesting attachments to weirdly specific rules, categories and ideas. And I'm too old and neurodivergent for 10 servers with 10 different sets of rules where if you break a single one, they break you.

So it's back to tumblr I guess. Where there are no rules, only vague but absolutely vital social conventions that no one warns you about until you blunder into them, and then there will be torture and death. Never mind the main character of the day on Twitter, try being the tumblr travesty of the decade, all because you did a thing no one wrote down but everyone knows is worse than abandoning your elderly grandmother in the middle of a field and driving away.

I'm going to my living room to freak out about TV alone.

#discord #tumblr #social media

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synonymroll648 · 10 months

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no hummingbirds, no butterflies (just soft whirrs & peaceful daylight)

pairings/relationships: queerplatonic keefex, minor mentions of dex’s dynamics with his parents, + referenced dadwin (keefe & elwin as a parent-son duo of sorts)

tws: minor (autistic) overstimulation, anxiety, touch starvation, swearing, implied sexual humor (keefe’s here, what’d you expect), and i think that’s it - but please let me know if there’s more that should be added!

summary: “I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’.

OR: An exploration of what Keefe and Dex’s dynamic could’ve been if Keefe hadn’t run off to the forbidden cities.

additional notes: happy final day of @keefex-week 2023, even if this is for the day 1 prompt queerplatonic! i started this fic back in feburary as an ayyam-i-ha gift for the one and only wonderful @bookwyrminspiration, but didn’t finish in time, and then i tried finishing it in time for its tumblr bday, and didn’t finish in time for that either. but at least i finished in time for this! i hope you enjoy the third draft of keefex being queerplatonic and neurodivergent (i wrote this with autistic!dex in the front of my mind. also, this entire fic was inspired by this keefex shitpost i made [and the really gay eckodon scene in book 4].) comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!

word count: 6.4k

ao3 link (recommended)

taglist: @gay-otlc @purplesoup-lad-le @when-wax-wings-melt @asexual-juliet @cowboypossume @xanadaus

fic under the cut :)

Out of all the things that can surprise Dex Dizznee at 12:21am, getting hailed by Keefe Sencen isn’t one of them.

The buzzing of his imparter laying on his bed cuts through the quiet ambiance of the noisemakers carefully placed in his room. The gadget Dex has mindlessly fidgeted with for minutes on end gets set down on his desk, and he carefully steps through the mess on his floor to pick up the hail.

(After turning the volume down, because Keefe has accidentally woken up Dex’s parents from laughing too loud on more than one night like this.)

“Heeeey, Dexy,” Keefe deliriously croons across the line.

Deliriously is the correct description, Dex knows, because Keefe only ever uses that tone when his guard is down—and after Loamnore, lowered guards only ever occur after a mental breakdown or from serious sleep deprivation.

Or both.

“Hello to you too, at this totally reasonable hour for the two of us to be awake,” Dex sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking his feet up onto the mattress.

A snicker. “Tooooootally.”

Dex does a brief internal analysis of his face—he doesn’t have enough time to be thorough without being awkward, but no mental notes at all is bound to leave him floundering later on in the conversation.

Dark circles → Keefe is probably at least halfway out of his mind.

Bedhead → Keefe is definitely at least halfway out of his mind.

Lots of blankets and pillows → Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis.

Slightly more prominent freckles across the bridge of his nose than usual → Congratulate Keefe on getting some sunshine.

Keefe starts talking again, and Dex is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to resume conversation. “What’d I interrupt?”

“Me trying to get work done for the Black Swan or school but being too tired to think properly.”

“I’m guessing you’re also too awake to go to sleep.”

“Bingo,” Dull exasperation on Dex’s end.

“Relatable.” Fatigue softens the ‘t’ so much that it’s only implied at best. Relatable is surrender wearing a humorous mask; Keefe’s favorite shield.

You need to say something. It’s the start to an all-too familiar chain reaction. He almost lists out all the ways You need to say something evolves into something much more panic-inducing, since lists usually help, but this is one of those few exceptions where listing it all out will screw him over.

So Dex starts on the steps to prevent that, with an inhale quiet enough that Keefe hopefully doesn’t think he’s sighing. Next is grasping for something to contribute. Something silly, preferably.

Dex is a second slower to reply than he’d like, but he finds something that works. His headspace relaxes once he asks, “Is the bingo card or the bingo pieces or the bingo itself relatable?”

“Hmmmmm, good question…” Keefe tilts his gaze up to the ceiling of his starry bedroom at Splendor Plains.

Dex takes his thoughtful pause as an opportunity to study Keefe further. He notes gulon pajamas, and eyelashes that are long and dark and confusingly nice to look at—which makes him think of the eckodon ride to Alluveterre, the first time he’d really noticed them—which makes heat begin to fester under his skin, because that was a lot of physical contact and—

—Keefe starts talking again, and it’s enough to get his brain to shut up. “Bingo pieces, probably. Sometimes I get put in situations where things work out, and sometimes I get put in situations where they don’t. Comes down to everyone else’s luck.”

The Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis part of Dex’s mental notes from earlier resurfaces at the front of his mind, and he leans a little more towards preparing for helping Keefe through an existential crisis.

Then Dex leans a few degrees back into the or part of the note, once Keefe cracks, “Kinda like all the backstories we came up with for Keebler elves.”

Laughter, fast and loose and loud, threatens to explode out of Dex’s chest. He quickly covers his mouth, unable to help looking away and throwing his head back while he tries to not disturb the sleepy nighttime air that blankets Rimeshire.

When Dex looks back down at Keefe, there’s a proud grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, smushed up against the cozy mess of his bedding. Keefe wrestles a hand out from under the blankets it was trapped under, and points directly at his imparter camera. “You thought it was funny, don’t deny it,”

“I won’t,” Dex relents. A wistful sigh almost turns into snickers, since he’s apparently spent way too many nights talking with Keefe over the past few months. “That was probably the funnest reason for pulling an all-nighter.”

A giggle. More than one giggle, actually. A whole stream of them, like a human song kids would get hooked on. (Giggles. Keefe is undoubtedly delirious, guaranteed to be more than halfway out of his mind. There’s no other explanation for him being so light and sunny at 12:26 in the morning.) “Best all-nighter eeee-ver! No school, just the silly.”

Dex arcs an eyebrow like the sunrise that’s hours away. “The silly?”

“The silly!” Beaming a childish grin, Keefe’s fist punches out of his heap of blankets and up into the air, almost as if he’s cheering for something.

The force of it sends Keefe’s imparter—wherever it’s propped up on—toppling over. The view on Dex’s imparter shifts to close-up constellations behind glass. He hasn’t done well enough in his Universe class to be able to identify anything before Keefe cries, “Dex! Mrs. Stinkbottom! My dearest companions! Noooooooo!”

This time, Dex has to gently bite down on his knuckles to keep himself from laughing too loud.

(Dex has to stop himself from wondering too much about the depth behind My dearest companions too. Because he’s gone down far too many rabbit holes about whether or not he’s romantically attracted to Keefe and been left with a confusing answer of no, but also not being satisfied with the label platonic either. He just focuses on the joy of someone finding him valuable outside of his tech and alchemy skillsets.)

There’s a smile on Dex’s face so wide it makes him feel dumb as he watches Keefe lean over his bed to try and grab at his imparter. Awkwardly angled footage goes a little fuzzy as Mrs. Stinkbottom gets pulled up before Dex. Well, not Dex, the imparter, since Dex is leaned back against his pillow and headboard and not collapsed on Keefe’s bedroom floor, but no one cares about technicalities like that other than Dex.

Finally, Keefe’s hand presumably wraps around his imparter, and Dex’s screen is a blur as Keefe hauls ‘him’ up. “I got a little too silly for the world to handle,” he pouts.

“The world? I don’t think me and Mrs. Stinkbottom count as the world. Pretty sure there’s a lot more to the world than that.”

“Well, that’s the only part of the world I care about right now.”

Don’t read into it, don’t read into it, don’t read into it—

Dex doesn’t read into it. Because he’s a master at this seemingly mythical thing called self-restraint, if his friends are anything to go by. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure you care about your blankets and pillows right now,”

Keefe’s lips thin into a disconcerted line. “...Yeah, I do. Caught me red-handed,” he mumbles, relaxing further into the comfortable disaster he’s wrapped himself in. “But that’s it.”

You sure about that? he wants to ask, but takes the few seconds of silence to consider his options and turn the conversation towards something else instead. “How much have you slept?”

Things That Would Replicate Keefe’s Hysterical Laughter at That Question When Mixed Together Properly:

Tea kettles when their contents are boiling.

Monkeys screeching.

Gasps from someone who almost drowned. Or ran a long distance at a high speed and finally got to stop. Or something like that.

A recording of someone’s sobbing or laughing that could pass as both to unaware listeners.

It’s a little startling—startling enough that he jumps at the unexpected change in sound. Frantically, he turns down his imparter volume. And then Dex tries to climb under his covers as quietly as he can and curls up on his side, so he can fake being asleep if his mom pops in to check on him. (She’s a light sleeper, which she’s jokingly coined as her proof that she married into the Dizznee family instead of being born into it.)

Keefe wipes at his eyes. “You gotta specify a time frame, Dex. Tonight? The last twenty four hours? The last week? Etcetera,”

It takes a blip of time to remember what they’re talking about. “Last twenty four hours.”

“I took a nap after lunch. Ro woke me up for dinner. After that, I painted until I spilled my water jar on accident. Cleaning up made me realize how tired I was, so I tried to sleep. Buuuuut…” Something about the way Keefe’s facial expression just barely shifts makes Dex suspect that he’s either gonna cough up a hard truth or lie to cover it up. “my brain wouldn’t shut off. And now we’re here.”

Dex takes a shot in the dark—literally. The only thing lighting up his room is his open curtains. Moonlight washes the room in pale silvers and a whole scale of blues. “Was it that you couldn’t stop thinking period, or you couldn’t stop thinking about the wrong things?”

The steady, easy rise and fall of Keefe’s form stills. It resumes when Keefe sighs and says, “Does anything get past you?”

I’ve spent my whole life analyzing everything to the best of my ability, because I’ve spent my whole life out of the loop and fighting to get in it. It’s late at night, and your guard’s down. Of course nothing you do gets past me. Too serious, too blunt. Killjoy of a response. Dex condenses it into something lighter, but still truthful. “When it comes to you, no, not that I know of.”

“I feel like that’s a sign that I’ve overshared on one too many nightly hails over the past few months,” Keefe tries to laugh it off, but Dex can sense the nervous undertone.

“I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop you next time you try to open up,” Dex offers. He hopes Keefe doesn’t take him up on it.

Dread begins to stir in his stomach as Keefe pauses to consider. It dissipates when Keefe says, “Nahhh, I trust you to not take advantage of me being stupid. Also, like—actually, you know what? Can I ramble about something? The only way my brain can make points is through stories right now. But if you want me to shut up, that’s fine.”

“Ramble away,” Dex says. It’s nice being your number one person to talk to, even if I’m sure it won’t last forever.

“Okay, so, earlier today—well, technically yesterday now, but no one cares—anyways. Anyways.” Keefe clears his throat, fist in front of his mouth. Eyebrows downturn in a way that’s either ironically or unironically serious; Dex can’t tell.

Dex poorly suppresses a smile. Turns up the volume again to hear him better, and resolves to just remind Keefe, No sudden noises please, if he gets too loud again.

“So basically, after Ro woke me up, Elwin knocked on my doorway today and told me dinner was ready if I was hungry. It was in the usual spot he leaves it for me since being in the same room as people is hard and he’s cool about me eating alone, y’know? I feel like I told you about that already, but whatever.” (Keefe has indeed told Dex about this routine. On multiple occasions.) “I hear his footsteps walking away, and I open the door and I say ‘Elwin?’”

“Out loud, or using signs?”

“Out loud,” Keefe confirms.

It’s been a month or two since Keefe managed to start saying short phrases to people aloud again, but it’s still difficult enough—especially without preparation beforehand—that it’s always a surprise to hear him mention talking out loud face-to-face recently. Dex’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline. He holds back the Wow, Keefe, incredible job—genuinely, ready to jump off the cliff’s edge of his tongue. Lets Keefe keep talking.

“So he turns around and he tilts his head in this way that’s like, hey, keep going. My nerves started acting up, but I managed to ask if we could eat at the table together. I had to clear my throat and clarify—well, I was really just rambling, but whatever—that sitting, like, right next to him would be too much. And I’d probably have to sit on the opposite end of the table, but he told me that was totally fine. No disappointment or anything. And we—we actually had a conversation. Not just a few sentences. I could keep up with talking back and forth for longer than a few minutes. And there was this point where he said…” Keefe stops. “He said, um. Hang on.”

Keefe flops his face into his pillow. Dex suppresses an instinctual smile at the unintelligible noises that come out of Keefe’s throat, because he doesn’t know if they’re positive or negative. Yet.

So he asks. “Is this good or bad?”

Keefe nods. Confusion forms in a crease between Dex’s eyebrows. Some absurd part of Dex suspects Keefe can sense it through the screen, because he turns his face towards his imparter and clarifies, “Good. I think. I’ve just forgotten how to handle affection in general. And I’ve never known how to handle it from parental figures.”

Parental figures has delighted surprise lighting up Dex’s face for a split second before he smooths his expression out into something neutral again. Elwin’s always been a lot better than Cassius. Keefe maybe, just maybe, finding someone else to call ‘dad’ or something like it would be good for him.

Dex hopes they get there. Eventually.

Dex also doesn’t know if it’s too early to tell Keefe that, so he errs on the side of caution. “From what I’ve heard you tell me, I don’t think Elwin minds that you don’t really know what you’re doing. But what did Elwin say to you? You cut yourself off.”

Keefe blinks, a bit slow to respond. “Sorry, I was processing that first sentence. Uh. He said that he was really proud of me. For,” —Keefe’s laugh in between words is bittersweet— “being so brave about all of this. And I thought he was playing up how he felt to make me feel better, so I told him that he didn’t have to lie to me. Then he told me that he was being dead serious, and he was sorry he didn’t say it more often. And he tried complimenting me more, but, um, I—I told him to stop because I didn’t want to start crying, y’know? Especially since I couldn’t—can’t hug him. Or anything like that,”

Dex doesn’t really know how this relates to whatever point(s?) Keefe was trying to make earlier about trusting Dex, but he’ll roll with the punches. “I’m not a professional on emotions or anything, but I think it’s okay to get overwhelmed by someone being nice to you when you’re used to literally nothing at best.”

“That’s…” Keefe goes quiet. Dex wonders if he said the right or wrong thing. Hopefully it was right. It feels right, at least. “That’s good to hear. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dex says, and gives him a tired smile. Not because he’s tired of Keefe, but because it’s who knows what hour in the morning now and Dex has been on a losing streak with his sleep schedule for roughly a week now.

Keefe sighs. “I wish I could hug you,” he whines. “You’re always so nice about putting up with my bullshit, and you’re cute when you’re tired, and I call you all the time but I still miss you because it’s not the same as when I could wrap my arm around you and say I’ve got you, Dexy, without physical consequences.”

There are many, many things that Dex could think in response to that. There are many, many things that Dex does think in response to that. But the first thing that comes to mind is if this conversation had been a string of imparter texts, Keefe would have written something along the lines of “:(((“ at least once just now.

Keefe bulldozes on. “Like, you’re so…patient,”

And then Dex cuts him off with a snort. “You are the first person I have ever heard call me patient. Ever.”

“I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’.

It’s an observation. Not a revelation, because Dex has known for months now that his dynamic with Keefe is defined by oddities. They are misfits on the outskirts of everything they know. They are two boys that don’t fit neatly into any boxes—one with a genetically modified ability that’s drastically altered his life in ways no one knows how to fix, and the other the son of a bad match that’s become a regent at 15 and a Black Swan technopath even younger. They are more than that, too, and they see all of that more in each other. They see all the mundane more and the wild more and all the more in between that doesn’t fit into any box society likes. They’ve been seeing more of all the more in one another over these past few months, and scrapping their discoveries together like spare parts into something that’s probably confusing and worthless to the rest of the world, but it works for them.

Progressing without refining, coloring outside the lines—it’s not what mechanics or artists are supposed to do, but for this piece, for their style, for their invention, it works for them.

This weird version of love that they have, that seems to permanently float either between or outside platonic and romantic binaries (Dex is too sleepy to tell): it works for them.

It works for them.

“You make being patient worth it, Keefe. You always do, in the long run.”

Half-lidded eyes shoot wide, and Dex can’t tell if the glaze over icy irises is due to tears or lighting until Keefe’s turning away and whining, “Dex, what the fuck did I say about not wanting to cry?”

Dex is glad that his words touched Keefe, since his hands can’t. Appreciation presents itself through amused exhales at the smile on Keefe’s face that won’t go away. “I thought you liked honesty, though?” he teases.

Keefe rolls back over in his twist of bedding to glare at his imparter, but it looks more like a pout. “Yeah, but I also like not having a crisis over whether or not—I’m pretending I live in an ideal world that doesn’t hate me, by the way—I want to draw you a bajillion times or paint you a bajillion times or tickle fight you until you’re in hysterics because I like the way your laugh sounds or hug you for an eon normally or hug you for an eon the way we did on the eckodon or if I want to kiss you. And I know that last part’s probably overreacting, but also, I can’t tell if it’s wanting to, like, kiss you on the cheek? Or more than that? Or less? Which makes things harder and way more confusing,”

Dex’s eyebrows aren’t practically touching his hairline, they are touching his hairline. (In spirit. Because eyebrow muscles don’t work like that in the real world. He thinks.) Dex adds You want a REPEAT of the eckodon ride? onto his mental list of conversation topics, then asks the slightly more pressing question he got from Keefe’s rambling: “You want to kiss me?”

Because Keefe Sencen? Renowned heartthrob that had half the girls at Foxfire wrapped around his finger without even trying that hard? Wanting to kiss him? Him? Dex Dizznee? The sheer notion was fucking absurd. Bonkers. Ridiculous.

“I mean—like—listen—okay, just, just let me explain before your brain runs wild, I know how you are,” Keefe splutters.

Dex suppresses a grin at Keefe being the flustered one for once. “Oh, I’m definitely listening.”

“Okay, so, first off, kissing was a brief idea that popped into my head when I thought, How do I show Dex how much I care about him? Kind of like an afterthought. And the original afterthought was, like, impulsively kissing your cheek. In a goofy way. Not full-on making out with you or anything.” Keefe pauses, and two things shift in the meantime: Keefe’s facial expression tipping off of panic into thoughtfulness, and Dex’s facial color gradually sliding from its pale base color to a blush that only gets more vivid as Keefe talks. “Though I probably wouldn’t complain if we made out, but it’s not something I’m yearning for every second of every day or anything. The possibility only just hit me, after all. I want it if you want it, I mean. But if you don’t, I’m all good. We’re all good.”

Dex blinks. Throws all caution to the wind, and thinks about it. Thinks about whether or not he’d like that kind of kissing from Keefe. Keefe would most likely start slow, because that feels like a Keefe thing to do, so Dex imagines that. Imagines how he might feel if they were whispering to directly into each other’s ears instead of each other’s imparters, if Keefe pulled him in for a kiss instead of keeping his distance without compromising himself—

—and almost immediately thinks No thanks. Which is a little odd, since he likes the way Keefe looks and acts, but his stomach hollows out at the idea of another mouth moving over his, no matter how kind the intention. Mashing two mouths together is an overrated display of affection hyped up too much by mom’s romcoms and other romance enthusiasts is the explanation for it that pops up into Dex’s head. The lack of spark or pull that Dex feels towards kissing in general plus the weirdness of textures and germs interacting through mouth to mouth contact probably factors into his opinion too.

Overriding that kind of mind and body instinct feels wrong, so Dex offers up more honesty to Keefe. “I think I’ll pass on the kissing. Making-out kissing, at least. Kissing anyone makes me feel weird—a bad kind of weird, if you get what I mean.”

“Sir yes sir!” Keefe barks out, giving him a cheesy salute, and Dex giggles. “Thank you for making it easier to make my brain shut up about kissing you. The identity crisis prevention is appreciated.”

“Of course, of course,” Dex jests. “But for the record, I don’t think you potentially wanting to kiss boys in general is a bad thing. As long as they’re good for you, y’know?”

Quiet overlays Keefe’s demeanor, and Dex can practically hear the gears in his brain turning. Processing. Then Keefe gives a small smile and says, “Thanks, Dex. I’ll keep it in mind. Buuuuuut,” Keefe claps his hands suddenly, and Dex nearly jumps out of his skin. “I’m not in the mood for heavy introspection right now! Soooo…maybe you could tell me about the things I said that you’d be okay and not okay with instead? For the sake of, like, boundaries and stuff.”

“Ah, yes. Discussing boundaries when we’re both sleep deprived and not thinking straight. Incredibly intelligent move.”

Dex apparently didn’t put enough lightheartedness into his deadpan, because Keefe scrambles to backtrack. “I mean, yeah, you have a point, we can do that sometime later in daylight, or later, or never. Whatever you feel like. No worries.”

“I was joking. We can and probably should talk about it now, even if we’re not 100% functioning,” Dex reassures.

“Okay. Um. Where do you want to start?”

Dex references his mental conversation prep list, and plucks out a relevant item he hasn’t used yet. (He will use the sunshine comment before the end of this hail, or so help him.) “Can we talk about the whole ‘basically wanting a repeat of the eckodon ride’ thing? Because in the moment you seemed pretty eager to end that, and I’m simultaneously confused and curious at your…change of heart, so to speak.”

A hypothesis Dex will never be able to test the accuracy of: If Keefe weren’t under the weak starlight of his bedroom walls and somewhere brighter in this moment, Dex would be able to see a flush crawling over Keefe’s ears. Perhaps even over his cheeks, too. The musing is based on evidence—the hand running through Keefe’s bedhead, the loaded exhale, the averted gaze, the upper teeth worrying his lower lip.

Anxiously, Keefe chants strings of swears under his breath before composing himself a little. “First things first, just to know how much of my dignity I’m losing here at whatever time of night it is right now, can you tell me how often you think about the eckodon ride? And what you think of it, if you do think of it at all?”

Oh god. Dex had not prepped for actually talking about that. At all.

So much for not floundering later on in the conversation, he curses his past self.

“Do you want me to start right now and then just pause and backtrack when I word things wrong, or do you want me to try and get things sorted out before I talk?” Clarification and a counterattack, a delay of the inevitable.

“Take your time,” Keefe murmurs.

Dex does. While Keefe breathes in a purposeful pattern he messes up every now and then, Dex rearranges the scramble of thoughts in his head until every piece is in the right place. And then he double checks to make sure it’s right. And when he thinks Maybe I should triple check, he forces the words out into a freefall and hopes that when they collide into the connection between him and Keefe, it won’t hurt. “Before I get into emotional vulnerability, I would like to say that I still stand by my opinion that your breath stunk. You need to invest in having carry-on breath mints at all times, dude.”

Keefe bursts out laughing, and it’s everything from playful ocean waves curling and splashing at his lower legs on a shoreline walk to distant melodies whispered in the wind. “I’ll do that, next time I go out,” Keefe promises, and for now, only Dex will ever know how big it is to hear Keefe make plans for a more social future he said he’d given up on at the beginning of these nighttime hails. “But only if you do too. Because I swear, your breath rivaled gulon farts, my guy.”

But only if you do too. My guy. It softens Dex like the glow of the stars outside his window. His smile is a crescent in the dark. “Fine, fine, I will. Maybe I’ll make my own and hail you so you can watch alchemy antics.”

“Please do. But finish talking first.”

Dex takes a deep breath. “Okay. Uh. Where was I?”

“Emotional vulnerability, I think?”

Exhale, trace back to which thought he left off on, and go. Hurtle out of comfort and into the brilliantly terrifying unknown. Speak before the end of the fall. “Right, emotional vulnerability time. I don’t think of the eckodon ride every second of every day or anything. But it pops up from time to time. More often when I’m talking to you, of course, but it’s not like I can hear whale songs or see Z-shaped objects without at least briefly thinking about it. As for what I think of the eckodon ride, I think…” Dex falters. Stumbles. His carefully constructed thoughts flutter just out of reach.

What was I thinking earlier? What have I thought about it before? “I think it was nice. Confusingly nice, but nice. I felt—it felt—it was different. A lot more physical contact than I was used to. And I guess I liked looking at you close up more than I was willing to admit before. Noticing little details was interesting—like how long your eyelashes are, since I didn’t really have anywhere to look but your eyes and I usually try to look close to people’s eyes but not quite since I get distracted by their eyes when they talk if I make eye contact, but we weren’t talking, and I just got to look, and—ugh, I’m rambling. That sounds weird. My words aren’t, I dunno what the word is—wording? Right? That’s wrong, but whatever. My words aren’t wording. You get what I mean.”

Dex drags his hands down his face, and grimaces at the light layer of sweat that’s built up there in such a small amount of time. Has the freefall ended yet? Will his stomach please stop hollowing out?

The freefall crashes to an end, and Dex slips out of the wind into into safe waters when Keefe asks, “So you didn’t mind how close we were the whole time?”

With only the moon as a witness, the timidness in Keefe’s voice is clear. With only the moon as a witness, all the air empties out of Dex’s lungs when he says “I didn’t really mind, but I thought you did,” into what feels like six feet underneath the sky.

Thuds pulse loudly in his veins and ears in the real silence. Every gentle slide of fabric moving with the crests and troughs of Dex’s breathing feels like the edge of too much, but Dex doesn’t know which side of the edge it falls onto. Staring at his imparter is too much now, too, so he turns his face into his pillow and swipes his thumb back and forth across his sheets as a nearly futile distraction from his frazzled senses.

Keefe reels him out of it, out of the increasingly weird stimulation levels and the imaginary water. “I didn’t really mind either, and I didn’t know what to do with that, so I shoved you away and jumped to something that I understood. And then I tried not to think about it. Which worked for a while, but then Loamnore happened, and now it’s really hard to not think about how much I miss being close to people, which makes it extra hard to not think about the eckodon ride when I’m around you, and now we’re here.”

A hum vibrates in Dex’s throat; it resonates with all the gadgets scattered around his room on sleep mode. “So originally, you didn’t want to fully process the eckodon ride, but now that you have, you miss that kind of proximity?”

“Yes,” Keefe breathes out a syllable and longing.

“That makes sense,” Dex nods to himself.

Contemplation lulls talking from either end of the line to sleep for a little while, but not Dex. Yet. At some point, Dex’s imparter slipped so that he couldn’t see Keefe and Keefe couldn’t see him. Not focusing on the changes in his expressions and environment, when it’s so late and quiet and Dex woke up at 2am yesterday and hasn’t slept since, makes it a little difficult to stay awake.

“So if I end up being able to handle touching people at some point in the future,” Keefe starts, and Dex starts at the sudden verbalism and the hope in his voice that they both thought he’d lost, “kissing you is a no, but hugs are a yes?”

“Hugs are a yes,” Dex agrees.

“What about, um—” Keefe stops short.

Laziness compels Dex to flick his imparter upright with telekinesis instead of just reaching over and grabbing it. He raises an eyebrow at Keefe. “What about what?”

Dex is the furthest thing the elvin world knows to an empath, and yet. And yet. He can feel Keefe’s embarrassment through the countless miles separating Rimeshire and Splendor Plains. Keefe’s almost completely buried beneath blankets, pressed deep enough into his pillow that only some messy blond tufts are visible.

“This is so stupid,” Keefe grumbles into fabric.

“I think this is rather funny, actually. Hilarious, even,” Keefe can’t see Dex’s shit-eating grin. “Share with the class, Keefe. How were you gonna finish that sentence? Be honest,”

(Dex turns down his imparter volume to the lowest setting. Just in case a certain froster is wandering around the halls with those silent mom feet of hers and walks in at the worst time possible.)

Dex thinks he hears Keefe mumble holding hands, but that seems far too innocent to be correct, so he asks, “What?”

Keefe pops up out of his cocoon. He looks like he wants to shrivel up and disappear to somewhere that’s anywhere but near his imparter. “Holding hands. That’s how I was going to end the sentence.”

Suspicion narrows Dex’s eyes. “Considering the kind of jokes you like to make, I feel like it takes more than the idea of holding hands to get you flustered,”

“Not anymore,”

Dex can’t tell if Keefe is whining or scraping the surface of loneliness that he’s shoved aside for tonight, and decides it’s a good idea to pull him away from that. He can lament his losses when the sun’s there to smatter more freckles along the bridge of his nose. “Getting back to the point—you wanted to know how I felt about you wanting to hold my hand?”

Slowly, Keefe nods.

“I don’t see why it’d be anything to get flustered about. We used to hold hands for light leaping all the time. Extending that doesn’t seem like a huge deal, in this hypothetical.”

“How the fuck are you so chill about this but I’m not,” Keefe says, and yeah, he’s definitely whining now.

Dex laughs. “My serious answer is because 1) I’m not touch starved and 2) we’re talking theoreticals, and my emotions kind of take a backseat during conversations like these so my critical thinking skills can take the wheel, since it feels like there’s no stakes since it’s all, as I said, theoretical. My joking answer, on the other hand, is because I’m cooler than you.”

Keefe cracks a smile. “True, true,”

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Is there anything else I said earlier that you’re not cool with?” Keefe returns.

“List it off again?”

“Uhhhh…” What some humans would call Keefe’s ‘Adam’s apple’ bobs as he tips his head back and thinks. He raises one hand and flips up a finger for each item he rattles off. “Stuff we haven’t talked about yet: Me wanting to draw you a bajillion times, me wanting to paint you a bajillion times, me wanting to get into a tickle fight with you just because I like how your laugh sounds, and teeeechnically cuddling?”

This is the kind of thing that Dex should probably have to mull over for a while, but answers come to him oddly easily. “All of those are fine, but I will warn you that I might kick you on instinct if you tickle me too much. Which isn’t that hard. My dad makes fun of me all the time for still being ticklish. He said that Dizznees usually have built up immunity to tickles by my age.”

Keefe blinks. Numerous times. Exaggeratedly. “Normally I’d be losing my mind at you being cool with me using you as a pillow for no reason, but I’m way too stuck on tickle immunity being a thing you can build up.”

Dex forgets to be quiet with his wheezing. “Dude, I have so many whack stories about things me and my family have done that have to do with tickling. Like, my dad said that when he was a level two he’d make elixirs specifically to give him vampire fangs so he could bite his siblings harder when they tried to tickle him,”

The tea kettle monkey screeching hysterical laughter from before comes back with a vengeance, and Dex is very glad his imparter is as quiet as it can be without deafening Keefe out entirely. “I need the full story now,” he gasps out.

“You’re in for a ride,” Dex says, settling into a more comfortable position on his bed. But then he remembers one thing he swore he’d say before this hail ended, and makes sure to look the camera head on when he comments, “Oh, by the way, before I don’t shut up for another three hours, good job getting some sunshine. The freckles look nice on you.”

Horror rounds Keefe’s eyes comically. He frantically runs his fingers along his cheeks as if his aforementioned freckles were braille spelling out some awful message on his face. “You can see them?”

“How else would I know they look nice on you?”

Keefe groans and curls up like the roly poly bugs Dex loved to pick up as a kid. Keefe’s imparter falls forward, and the imparter screen thumps into fuzzy blackness. “I chase Bullhorn around the property so Elwin can have a break for a day one time, and this is how the world rewards me,”

“As I basically told you already: I think it’s a great reward. Anyway. Wanna hear about just how petty my family gets or not?”

“I’m 100% down, Dexy. Hit me with good old storytime.”

Storytelling hasn’t ever really been Dex’s thing, but Keefe doesn’t seem to have high standards, which is nice. (The other explanation is that Dex is better at storytelling than he thinks, which he refuses to believe because he hates being wrong about anything ever.) He laughs more than Dex expected, and insists on getting his sketchbook at one point to draw out certain parts, and then they both giggle so hard they can’t breathe. They gesture and talk and talk and talk until Keefe says his throat and ribs hurt, and Dex agrees on that last part.

Dex’s last thought before his breathing slows and evens out is some hazy musing of how nice it is that he can be Keefe’s person without having to feel hummingbirds or butterflies to get there.

Both of their imparters are on when they fall asleep to soft whirrs and wake up to peaceful daylight.

#qpr keefex fic #but it's the real thing this time!#qpr keefex #keefex #keefe sencen #dex dizznee #kotlc #kotlc fic #keefex fic #keeper of the lost cities #keefex week 2023 #autistic!dex #bisexual!keefe #aroace!dex #keefe feels alterous attraction towards dex in this btw. if i didn't make it obvious enough (sorry if i didn't)#dadwin #forever in mourning of how keefe isn't gonna get adopted by elwin :( ik grady and keefe is good but. KEEFE AND ELWIN [sobs]

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