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violentvaleska · 3 years

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𝑫𝒐𝒍𝒍

ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴇsᴋᴀ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ɴᴇᴡ ɪɴᴍᴀᴛᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ's ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛ. sʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴅɪsᴏʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ɪʟʟɴᴇss, sᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ sᴇx, sᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ʀᴀᴘᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴛʜɪs ɪs sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 4 ᴊᴇʀᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟsᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 :)

Arkham Asylum is depressing but it does have a certain aesthetic. Dark stone walls and wooden furniture decorate the melancholically looking asylum for the criminal insane. Like many other buildings, it was created to imitate the European gothic style. Impressing, religious and rather sharp or pointed architectures

It is probably one of the reasons why (Y/N) finds the Asylum rather interesting. It certainly is one of her favorite aesthetics, but she also likes Barock or the Austrian Biedermeier. It's softer and more colorful, but Arkhams aesthetic gives her something intimidating and she likes that feeling.

In her first week she was only locked up in her room, because she was a danger to herself and others. (Y/N) would constantly train ballet in the meantime or analyze every corner of her room, or rather her cell, and then sketch it as accurately as possible. Sometimes she would sketch or draw her classmate Hazel.

Helping her might be the reason why she is in this hell hole. The two girls were on their way back to the boarding school from the library, when a strange man approached them. He grabbed Hazel and hit (Y/N) unconscious. When the girl woke up, she heard screaming. The creepy man tried to force himself onto Hazel, but (Y/N) was able to stop him. She found a metal bar and started to hit him repeatedly into the head with it. The scared Hazel called the GCPD, who took (Y/N) with them. A psychologist diagnosed her with an anxiety, personality and eating disorder. They decided that she would get a safer and better rehabilitation if she was sent to Arkham Asylum instead of Black Gate. What the poor girl doesn't know is that her classmate Hazel never had the intention to get her into Arkham, she only did the right thing. She knows better now; doing the right thing in a city like Gotham only leads to more pain and corruption.

After a week, (Y/N) was able to leave her cell for the first time. She wasn't too fond of it, considering that she would need to visit a psychiatrist every second day or go to group therapy. She is in several programs, which should help her to "rehabilitate" soon. But (Y/N) knows that it won't be too easy for her. She hates socializing and rarely talks to anyone nor opens up to someone. Especially not in a place like Arkham. She is free food for the criminals; cute looking, innocent and basically harmless. Little did she know that a certain maniac will find a soft spot for her soon.

"Snap out of it girly." The rather large woman, compared to her, hisses.

"We are here." She explains in annoyance to (Y/N) and opens her restrainments with a key. The girl looks up and glances through the bars in front of her. The comonroom is full of people in the magnificent black and white striped Arkham uniforms. Some are talking to others or themselves, a few play games, while a few inmates don't seem to do anything. It's a little chaotic and (Y/N) feels already uncomfortable. The female guard opens the door and slightly pushes her straight into the cold and deep waters of her new environment. Dumbfounded she looks around, as the bars behind her are being closed and locked again. She feels like a prey in a lions cave. Slowly her feed dances across the cold floor, as they lead her to a lonely table in a corner of the room. Midway she feels a pair of eyes on her, but fails to find the person who stares at her. It makes her feel naked and vulnerable, she doesn't like that either. (Y/N) sits down calmly and let's her eyes roam the room to find something to do. It didn't take long for her to find a bookshelf and after a few minutes of staring at it she finally takes a few steps to the wooden shelf. It takes (Y/N) a few more minutes to finally find an interesting book though. She decides to read "Sleepy Hollow" and wanders back to her place in the lonely corner, where she starts to read the description again.

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by name of Sleepy Hollow ... A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere.

It's from 1820 and fits perfectly into Gotham because of its gothic elements. Terror, supernatural and dark outdoors are just a few of these classic books topics. People may wonder why (Y/N) likes the gothic time period so much, when her outer aesthetic doesn't exactly fit the dark and religious believes of gothic. She wears pastels, fairy like dresses and a bit bitchy skirts or tops. It might be a cause of her personality disorder, a delusional disorder to be exact. She desperately makes herself and others believe that she is innocent, naïv and the sweetest thing, but in reality it's just a safe space. Her psyche wants to protect her from her dark and destructive nature. Reading books like this, or watching horror movies only satisfies her true needs.

The book itself is rather interesting. The protagonist, Ichabod Crane, reminds her a little of herself and a few of the scenarios make her smile.

"Now, now, who do we have here?" A haunting voice makes (Y/N) gasp as she rapidly closes the book. Her hair falls into her face, as she notices a tall figure approaching her. The man takes a seat in front of her and places his hands flatly onto the table. When (Y/N) notices his face, hers turns from shock into horror. The man's face is full of scars, which outline his eyes and jaw, as well as forehead. His lips appear to be in a permanent smile due to the scars.

"Oh wow, if Johnny sees that book, he will behead you." The man grins and takes the old leather out of her hands.

"Boy was bullied in high school all the time, called him Ichabod Crane, even though his real name is Jonathan Crane. Has a better ring to it if you ask me." He lets the book fall onto the floor and finally notices the dumbfounded look on the girl's face.

"Oh sorry, I'm Jerome!" He introduces himself and grins proudly. (Y/N) stays quiet. She is scared and not really sure what he even wants from her. His name is familiar though.

"Maybe you know me, I did a lot of bad things, came back to life even." The girl shakes her head and loses eye contact again. Jerome sighs and takes her hand into his.

"Just your name, pretty please." The girl is obviously uncomfortable and pulls her hand away from his.

"(Y/N)." She whispers and folds her hands under the table. Jerome gestures his hand to his ear and bows himself over the table.

"What was that? Couldn't hear ya."

"(Y/N)!" The pretty girl answers louder and straightens her head to look innocently into his eyes. Jerome likes it. He likes the innocent and shy ones, they are fun to corrupt.

"Cute." The man, Jerome, stands up again and smiles arrogantly down at her.

"Well, see you around doll." With that being said he leaves her alone at her table. A shiver runs down her spine, as she picks up the book from the stoney floor. Shaking her head, she opens it on page 30 and continues her journey in a fictive reality full of monsters and dark fantasies.

Dreams can be something beautiful and adventurous. We learn and live from them, go through new stuff in the deepest place of our imagination. Nightmares are entirely different. They show us our insecurities, our fears. A nightmare seems to go on forever, while a pleasurable dream ends so fastly. (Y/N) was woken up by a nightmare.The man with the beautiful red hair and intimidating eyes, scars and voice forced her to step Hazel in the face with a knife. When she woke up, her body was sweaty and the cold air hit her skin like snow in the winter.

It is going to be yet again another cold night for (Y/N). Goosebumps crawl up her body, as she desperately tries to warm herself. She thinks about the disturbing dream again and can't shut up the voice in her head which says that Hazel would deserve it. She called the police after all. Turning around, shivering she closes her eyes and sighs. If it wasn't for Hazel-

Her thoughts are interrupted as she hears a strange noise in her room (she likes to call her cell that), like a rasping. Her heart beat runs faster, as a hot wave of panic overcomes her. She moves to the nightstand table and turns on the small and dimmed light of the lamp.

A terrible scream escapes her, as she sees the man sitting in her chair beside her.

"Relax doll, it's just me." The scarred man with the ginger hair says as he tries to calm her down.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is cracking as she speaks and a single tear rolls down her cheek. In her mind she is his next victim. He would probably hurt her, torture, kill or even rape her.

"Oh you know, I'm just looking for a friend." He emphasizes the last word and smiles naïvly. He pulls off his gloves and places them on her nightstand table. He stands up and takes a seat on her bed instead; her scared form is shaking.

"And a sweet doll, like you, needs a friend in a place like this. You see, nobody cares what happens to you." He whispers and brushes his hand through her hair.

"I could hurt you." Jerome moves to press her body down onto her bed, smiling as he sees more tears in her beautiful innocent eyes. His warm hands trace down her neck, painfully slow, and finally he lets them rest on her breasts for a few seconds. He feels her heartbeat running a race, it's delicious.

"But I won't. I will give you a taste of the perks it has to be my friend." He explains and stands up again. The dangerous man reaches for something on the floor and swiftly lays it over her cold body. It's a blanket.

"Your report said something about your anorexic tendencies, so I figured you would freeze at night." Jerome takes his gloves into his strong and warm hands, his smile appears to be frozen on his face.

"I'll give you time to think about it." The tall man bangs onto the door and waits for one of the guards to open it for him. His eyes never leave hers in the process. The door opens up for him and Jerome gives (Y/N) a last wink before he leaves. The strong metal door closes behind him and (Y/N) deeply breathes out. She snuggles herself into the second blanket and closes her eyes.

Jerome read her report, which means that he knows everything now. Her secrets, her diagnosis, her full name, address of her parents, ballet boarding school address, everything. (Y/N) traces her fingers over the same parts of her body as he did and just stops above her left breast. Why would he do that? Does he want to seduce her? Make her feel wanted, needed or even protected? Or are his intentions deeper? He could have done it to force her into submission, to show her that he is in control, which he definitely is. The ginger haired maniac probably did it as a warning, a warning what he could do or would do if she doesn't do as he pleases.

Before sinking into another nightmare, (Y/N) thinks about the best way to get information about Jerome. She needs to know who she befriends with.

Her next day started off even worse than the last one. (Y/N) was able to snuck into the record room and wanted to search for every folder from block E with the name Jerome on it. She was only able to find two and her head told her to open the one with the surname VALESKA printed on it. Bingo. In the folder is a picture of Jerome and his criminal-record. She feels bad for doing something illegal, but this is important. It could save her life after all.

Name: Jerome Valeska

Gender: male

Age: 26

Date of birth: April, 1st

Place of birth: Kansas General, Kansas City

Height: 6'0

Weight: 176 Ibs

Hair: red

Eyes: blue and green

Body: tall, muscular, slim

Tattoos: non

Scars: all over the face, neck, upper body (see picture)

Details: freckles

Crime: homicide, matricide, , arson, terrorism, kiddnaping, illegal use of weapons and drugs, theft crimes, pretending to be a police officer, damage of state goods, manipulation

'He definitely has a fair list of crimes.' (Y/N) thinks and looks through more details, shaking her head in the process. He definitely shouldn't be her friend, he would drag her down and destroy her innocent nature. (Y/N) sighs and closes the folder, ready to place it back, when she hears a voice.

"Found something interesting?" Jerome taunts her. She turns around and looks straight into the serious, but still beautiful eyes of Jerome Valeska.

"I was hoping that you would follow me blindly, but I guess you are not half as dumb as I thought you would be." Ashamed she looks down onto the eggshell colored folder in her hands, her heart feels heavy all of a sudden.

She feels him getting closer, his hands are touching her shoulders, gripping them with a dominating force.

"Tell me doll, have I awakened some interest in you." His head appears beside hers, his lips form a cruel smirk.

"I came to the conclusion that it would be safer to stick around you." She answers and closes her eyes, her head falls down in sadness. (Y/N) knows that devoting her life into his hands is a deadly game, but she doesn't have another option. He would either make it a living hell or he would make sure that someone else destroys it. The last one won't happen if she would be his friend, at least she is sure about that.

"Good little doll you are." He whispers and stands up again.

"Just so you know; after reading my records-" Jerome pauses and grins disturbingly bright.

"I've done way more things than they gave me credit for." Jerome helps her to stand up and places his arm around her waist, leading her out of the record room.

"Now let me introduce you to my other friends."

Jerome's other friends are rather interesting. Jervis Tetch, who calls himself the Mad Hatter, only speaks in rhymes and lives in his delusional wonderland. He might be creepy, but Jerome's other friend Jonathan Crane, aka the Scarecrow, is even creepier. In the past few days she has only seen his face once and (Y/N) is certain that he is younger than Jerome. She almost feels sorry for him, but Jerome would make sure that she doesn't. Hanging out with them made her realize that nobody treated her with disrespect or talked to her. They are scared of Jerome, Jonathan and Jervis after all, which makes her feel safe and protected.

But being the friend of a criminal also brings a lot of damage to her psyche. He wants her to do some smaller jobs for him which include persuading, stealing and playing his sweet girlfriend. She hates that. He would want her to sit on his lap, play with his hair or just softly touch him somewhere. It is meant to intimate others, show them that the boss has a nice girl on his side. Pure manipulative intentions, nothing else. Though, sometimes (Y/N) doesn't know if his sexual jokes are meant to be, well jokes, or if he is being serious. A man like Jerome is hard to read and to understand, he is unpredictable and dangerous. If it meant to prove a point he would kill her, hurt her, torture her. Just to prove a point. But there is one thing she learned; Jerome is not a rapist. He despises who are. It's the only positive thing (Y/N) can say about him.

"Doll?" He whispers into her ear, making her shudder under his firm grip on her shoulders.

"You aren't that innocent are you?" His question not only confuses her, but insults her.

"What do you mean?" She wonders, her brows turn into a confused frown. (Y/N) is pretty sure that she is innocent.

"Oh come on princess, don't play stupid with me." The devil let's his hands wander down her arms, taking her fingers into his.

"Everything around you screams ballet and butterflies, but let's be for real. Your cherry has already been popped." Jerome's disgusting smile haunts her nightmares tonight for sure. Her face turns red, as she pulls her fingers away from his, standing up from her place on his lap.

"No." She spits out angrily, taking a few steps away from him.

"You think you know me, but you don't. I am innocent."

"You are delusional." Angry, (Y/N) walks away, leaving Jerome giggling alone.

"Come on doll, I didn't mean it like that!" Jerome shouts after her, causing the whole common room to look at them. He loves the attention.

"Fuck off Vakeska. You are the one being delusional, did you really think that I like this thing we have going on?" (Y/N) knows that she shouldn't have said that. Jerome’s laughter dies abruptly, his grin turns into an angry grimace, showing his teeth.

"I'd better sleep with one eye open tonight if I were you doll."

That day, (Y/N) learned to not anger Jerome. He took away her second blanket and didn't offer her protection, which the perverted psychos fastly caught up to. Nothing happened though, because whoever tried anything died all of a sudden. Later in her room, (Y/N) danced an hour or two before she went to sleep. She misses dancing a lot and tries to keep up with the classic steps of Swan Lake. Which is hard without a mirror and pointe shoes, but it's possible. Her sleep, of course, was haunted by the red haired devil again. In her dream he was not as scary as in real life, but still pleased her nightmares non the less. She woke up, crying and freezing. (Y/N) wants to apologize tomorrow, she would need his protection and a second blanket that is. The girl turns herself, trying to find a good sleeping position as a scream escapes her. A figure, tall and proud, hovers in the corner of her cell. She turns on the lamp on her bed side table and shudders as she sees the Scarecrow. Confused, she presses the blanket against her body, glancing at the scary man.

"Did Jerome send you?"

"Yes." His answer is cold and short, his intentions unreadable. (Y/N) is truly frightened, he could do anything now.

"What does he want, Jonathan?" The man is silent for a moment, a little overwhelmed. No one dares to say his name.

"He wants you." The Scarecrow takes a few steps to the tired and horrified looking girl on her bed.

"Don't fight him. Don't fight me." Crane knows that reminding her of that is useless, of course she would fight them. (Y/N) jumps up from her bed, trying to escape the tall, lanky figure but is immediately stopped by him. He catches her hair, pulling her back into his grasp.

"Please, let go of me!" Her struggling is making him feel annoyed, which is why he starts to drag her with him, out of her cell. He doesn't want to play around anymore. Putting a hand over her mouth, to silence her screams, Crane abducts the poor soul. He pulls and pushes her around, not caring that she is crying. Jerome wanted him to do that, scaring her, hurting her a little. It's just the preparation for what's to come. And (Y/N) knows that too.

After what feels like five minutes, they finally arrive before Jerome's cell, where a nervous officer stands, looking at them, his fingers shaking. He is bought for sure.

"Open the door and let us in." Crane demands, his voice sounds a little strange under the burlap sack. The officer opens the heavy metal doors and let's Scarecrow and the girl in. Waiting for something to happen.

Jonathan gives her one last push, which makes (Y/N) fall onto the stoney floor. A soft pained cry escapes her, which leads a raspy voice to laugh in the corner of the cold and dark room. (Y/N) is aware of who this laugh belongs to. It always taunts her in her dreams.

"Thank you Johnny." Jerome speaks and walks gracefully to the young woman on the floor. He would lie if he said that she doesn't turn him on in the slightest.

"You can leave now, old friend, but make sure that ugh- Officer Lang, leaves too." Nodding his head, Crane doesn't make any attempt to walk out of Jeromes cell.

"Right. You'll get your chemistry kit tomorrow morning." The red head promises with a warning smile.

"Nice doing business with you Vakeska." With that being said, Jonathan leaves the two alone, not wanting to stay and watch the show. He leaves poor (Y/N) in the lion's cave, literally.

The dimmed light in the room and the ongoing silence make (Y/N) nervous. She doesn't quite know what he would do to her now. It makes her feel sick.

"You know doll, I always liked 'em feisty." Jerome speaks up, circling her.

"But offending me in front of everyone was a number too big, especially for you."

A hurtful cry escapes (Y/N), as the devil pulls her up on her hair, so she could stand and look him in the eyes.

"Don't you think?" He asks, his bright grin long gone.

"Yes and I'm sorry I don't know what went through me." She wants to make him understand that she normally doesn't react like that. But Jerome doesn't buy it.

"Oh I know sweets. It just makes me wonder what exactly went through you." His smile returns, as he grabs her neck, pulling her closer to him.

"Remember the night I visited you and offered you to be my friend?" The girl nods her head underneath his, still rather soft, grip, making him grin in agony.

"Every innocent girl would have had a different reaction than you did when I touched you here." Jerome's other hand wanders up, groping her left breast, making her pathetically whimper in the process. The young man pulls her closer enjoying the moment a little bit too much. He can feel his blood rushing downwards, when he notices that the sweet (Y/N) doesn't wear a bra at all.

"You are not innocent sweet cheeks. I bet you are a whore."

(Y/N) is under shock. She can feel her body stiffen under his touch, but she kind of likes it. That scares her. How could he just grope her and her body even likes it?

"No, I'm not a whore." She breathes out, trying to pry his hand off of her.

"Sure." Jerome comments and starts to slowly push her in the direction of the wall.

"Wanna play a game doll? It's called cat and mouse." (Y/N) doesn't like the sound of it.

"I'm gonna let go of you now and you get three seconds to run, got it?" Three seconds may seem short, but Jerome's cell isn't that big. When he lets go of her, (Y/N) starts to run in a different direction. It doesn't take long for Jerome to catch up with her though. He jumps her after six seconds, making both of them crush onto the floor. Him on top of her. A classic.

"Please Jerome." (Y/N) whispers and makes an attempt to crawl underneath him.

"Yes, start begging bitch." He groans, pulling her closer to his form, pressing her back against his front. Her struggling feels pretty good and she rubs just the right places. She must have some sort of experience.

"Gosh don't stop babe." He groans. Now (Y/N) is truly scared and confused. Jerome is into fighting. Her innocent side would tell her to stop. If she continues, she would just provoke his primitive urges more and more. Somehow, she doesn't react to her logical and innocent side. She wants to fight, she wants to prove to him that she is stronger than he thought.

She's wild. All scratching and biting. Jerome fights her too, the game just started to get interesting after all. His grip burns on her wrists, as he pushes her flatly against the floor, her breath hitches in her throat.

"I hate you." She groans, losing hope.

"I love you." He moans, gaining control. It always will be a fight between them, but for now Jerome just wants this one thing. He pulls the wrists of her hands together, fixing them with his larger and stronger left hand. His other brushes down her upper body, making goosebumps appear on her skin, as his hand slowly disappears underneath her dress. At first she feels a little disgusted and violated, but then, his fingers strike her sensitive spot. A shudder runs over her body, making Jerome giggle. He isn't quite sure why he does this, but it feels right. The devil starts to rub and please his new prey, making her react to his sinful actions. Her mind shut down. She loves every bit of it and leaves him to completely control her body. He might not want to believe her that this is her first time, but it in fact is. She only touched herself once, but she felt regret immediately. This feels wrong but so perfect at the same time. Her hands feel weak and numb in his grip, a mewling escapes her here and there.

"You are so wet, doll." He sights and slowly pulls out his hand.

"Just let me take you. Let me take care of you." He corrects himself, as he opens the zip of his pants. Her expression is drowsy and her pupils are delighted. She seems high, not reacting to his demands.

"Princess?" He shakes her a little, waking her from her strange condition.

"Let me have you." She nods, spreading her legs a little just for him. Jerome sees it as an open invention and frees himself from his boxers. He takes his time, pulling down her panties, looking into her eyes the whole time. He catches sight of her expression, which makes him startle a little. He sees pure terror in them. He swallows down a nod in his throat as he positions himself between her legs, touching her wetness a last time with his slender fingers. He wants to make sure that she is ready for him. Where would be the fun in raping her?

"Doll, I'm going to fuck you. Are you aware of that?" Jerome isn't quite sure if she really wants it, but again she just nods and whispers a little 'yes please'. He won't get anything else out of her. Jerome breathes out heavily and then pushes himself forward.

Her eyes widen, a blood curdling scream can't escape her, as she chokes on air a little. It's painful. It's so painful. She feels every bit of him; too long and too thick. It's not what she expected at all, the pain is different from what she felt before in her life. He slowly moves himself in and out, trying to catch a rhythm. He looks down onto her shocked expression and quickly moves his eyes away from her. He is truly ashamed of himself, using her vulnerability for his benefits. It makes him angry, he wants her to enjoy it too, she has to. She is a whore, she enjoyed other men and now she would enjoy him. She has to. His moves turn quicker, snapping onto her.

Soft cries and groans escape both of them, his urges encourage him to go deeper, harder, faster. And (Y/N) feels like she's been ripped in half. It takes a minute until the pain feels numb and it takes another for her to feel the growing pleasure. Her cries turn into whimpers and whimpers into sad moans. She tries to loosen the grip he has on her, closing her eyes as she lets him go down on her.

He is erratic and a little aggressive, but it doesn't pain her anymore. Jerome likes her new reaction and snaps his hips into her a little harder. Her wrists swell under his grip and her neck hurts, as he starts to strangulat her.

(Y/N) is aware that this is toxic. A first time is not supposed to go like this. Every part of her body would hurt tomorrow. She just doesn't care anymore.

"Fuck, you suck it up like a bitch." He curses and rams himself deeper into her, hitting a spot which makes her tear up in pleasure.

"I hope that you're on birth control, because I'll blast my load into ya." He groans and opens his mouth to let out an animalistic growl.

"Jerome." A shudder runs over her body as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. He hears every sound, every cry and scream as she cums. She is shaking, hard and tears stream down her face. It's the most beautiful sight he can imagine at the moment. It doesn't take long for him. Jerome lets out a choked cry and closes his eyes as he fucks himself through his orgasm.

They stay in the same position for a moment, just breathless and sweating. He pulls himself out just to find his cock traced with blood. Many thoughts go through his head at the moment.

I am too rough. Did I hurt her? Is she on her period? Is she going to bleed out?

It's then when she decides to speak up, that he completely loses it.

"I told you I was a virgin."

Jerome pulls himself back into his pants and takes a few steps away from her, angered and disgusted with himself. How did he not notice it? The signs were obvious. The terror in her eyes, she was too tight and her pained expression was too hurtful to look at. Jerome feels sick in his gut. He broke her hymen, he made her bleed and cry, he hurt her. She was innocent, she was truly innocent and he destroyed her. He should feel proud, but he doesn't. He made his obsession unclean, he printed her, he probably even raped her.

"Jerome?" (Y/N) asks, scared of his reaction.

"Can you do that to me sometime again please?" The ginger looks up confused and restless.

"You liked it?" He wonders and swallows down the urge to cry. He may seem like that strong bully who gives two shits about his fuck buddy, but the truth is that Jerome wants to do it right. He just loses himself all the time and would constantly hurt the other. He is useless.

"Yes. I would like it, if you'd do that again to me." A soft smile appears on her pale face. It relieves Jerome.

"Did you mean it?" She asks him and looks hopeful into his beautiful dark eyes.

"What do you mean sweets?"

"Do you love me?" Jerome swallows hard and turns his back to her. No he doesn't love her. But he might learn to in time.

"Come and find it out, doll." His voice sounds playful, but deep down he feels stressed.

Empty promises are his specialty after all.

#jerome valeska #smut #doll #jerome valeska x you #cameronmonaghan #jerome valeska smut #jerome valeska x reader

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babaleshy · 3 years

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I'm Autistic

Because this will likely be a lengthy, wordy post about my self-diagnosis as Autistic as well as all of my experiences regarding Autistic traits, I'm going to leave a "read more" link so that you're not scrolling for ages just to catch up on your feed.

Ah, I see you've clicked "keep reading" or "read more" or whatever this site has it labeled as, now. You don't get to be mad at how long this is or how much of a waste of time reading this may be to you because you consciously clicked on the link. Therefore, I am exempt from taking responsibilities of eating up any bit of your time, including the time you've wasted reading this disclaimer.

So... Yes. I am. And it's a self-diagnosis right now.

You're probably thinking that I saw a Tik Tok clip, checked out a page on WebMD, and decided that I'm Autistic (this is in reference to a Tik Tok I saw last night that nearly made me spit out my drink because of how painfully accurate the "what people think self-diagnosis is vs reality" clip was). That is, of course, not the case.

A few years ago (likely 2018), I don't recall what it was I read online, but it made me go, "Oh wow, that makes so much sense to me," in regards to a neurodivergent trait. However, this was then I thought I had ADHD. My husband has ADHD, was diagnosed with it as a child, and because his dad forced the doctor (this was like, in the late 90s, early 2000s I think) to put him on Adderall and Ritalin, my husband does not remember 3 years of his life because he was a drooling, zombified mess. Why did his dad do this? Because his grades were bad. Did this help with his grades? No. Did his dad take him off the meds because he didn't get the desired result? Also no. My husband wasn't even informed on what ADHD was. He was simply told he had it and to take these pills. It wasn't until he (my husband) read the label saying that it could increase the risk of heart issues that he cussed his dad out and flushed all the pills down the toilet. Up until very recently, he wasn't sure if he actually had ADHD until he saw a YouTuber who was actually diagnosed with it display the exact traits he had.

But he didn't see this YouTuber when I thought I had ADHD, so my husband couldn't exactly relate, plus I didn't want to trigger anything with him on the subject.

But the more I researched, the more I realized I could be on the spectrum. It wasn't until 2019 that I was printing out articles, trait lists, etc. to highlight and put into a folder (which is thick and nearly bursting with what I've printed out to have a hardcopy of records highlighting the traits that I have, including traits my husband and my mom see in me) that I realized "I could have Asperger's."

Of course, I no longer use that term after finding out it was named after a n*zi, and I began to embrace the term "Autistic" instead.

But the thing that triggered me into going, "Wait, so it's not ADHD that I think I have, it's Asperger's?" was, like my husband, seeing a YouTuber talk about their traits and experiences. I had identical struggles, myself. (Through this same YouTuber, I also found out I'm greysexual, too! There's a name to describe my experience with sexual attraction! Yay!)

There are a lot of VERY SPECIFIC TRAITS Autistic people experience that aren't mentioned by the YouTuber or in anything that I've printed out and highlighted that I have found through various Tik Toks that I have personally experienced that simply further solidifies the fact that I'm definitely on the spectrum. When I showed the Tik Tok I mentioned earlier (I don't remember their name) to my husband last night, he was wide-eyed because the description of how that individual self-diagnosed themselves WAS EXACTLY WHAT I DID WORD FOR WORD HOLY SHIT.

I was already convinced I am Autistic, but each time I read Twitter threads of people's experiences with their Autistic traits, each time I watch Tik Toks or certain YouTubers share their experiences, it further solidifies that yep, I'm Autistic.

What's amazing is that my husband is very supportive. I'm extremely lucky to have married him. I've been a terrible masker but he loves me anyways. He never gave me shit for my meltdowns and tried to help me out, thinking I was just horribly overly stressed. Now that he knows why I've had the few outwardly noticeable meltdowns that I've had throughout our years together, he knows how to help me more, now. And while he's figured out my traits and what issues I have, knowing that I'm on the spectrum helps him make sense of why I'm like this, and he can help me accordingly whether it's to prepare for something in advance, help me calm down, etc.

(I should also add here real quick that there's a high chance I have OCD as well, but less of the compulsive actions and more of the obsessive thoughts, but I'm not entirely sure just yet if this is the case. I'm actually hoping to see someone about this but with the pandemic, I don't know when that will be.)

Now... onto the traits and experiences.

My Traits (that stand out with neon lights)(Will copy word-for-word a trait my mom or husband see in me and it will be typed in a different color.)

Having a folder that has all of my research I've obsessively looked up, printed out, highlighted what I saw in myself with one color (yellow) while highlighting what my mom and my husband see with another color (pink). I'm also using this folder to make this list as a reference because I sometimes forget certain traits I do have are because I'm Autistic. (I'm 32 as I write this, so when so much of what you think, do, and experience that you see is normal for you turns out to be an Autistic trait, it takes a while to get used to it and thus remember that because you haven't had a label for it your whole life.)

Despite being goth/punk, I dress as comfortably as I can. Textures aren't a very big issue for me, but what feels like strangulation of my body tends to be a problem. I cannot handle having the cross seams of pants feeling like I have a chopstick slowly impaling my vulva, or I can't stand how tight some shorts are that they pinch my hip joints.

I've NEVER spent much time grooming my own hair. It's either tiring, I"m impatient and want it done NOW, or both. This is why I have a Tank Girl haircut (all buzzed except for bangs), where I can basically "wash and go." (Husband does my haircuts and dyes and he's kickass at it.)

Eccentric personality; may be reflected in appearance.

Is youthful for age, in looks, dress, behavior, and tastes.

Usually a little more expressive in the face and gesture than male counterparts.

"May not have strong sense of identity and can be very chameleon like before diagnosis." (This resonates with me in the form that I never saw myself in ANY fictional character other than Tank Girl. My husband agrees with this opinion, but he also says he also sees a lot of me in Caulifla from Dragonball Super.)

I enjoy reading and films as a retreat, often sci-fi, fantasy, children's (sometimes), can have favorites which are a refuge.

Uses control as a stress management (like routines, rules, rigid certain habits, etc.)

Usually happiest at home or in other controlled environment.

I've been seen as "sensitive" by some, and mocked for crying a lot by others.

I struggled with social aspects of college and have 2 partial degrees.

Often have trouble holding a job and finds employment very daunting.

Slow at comprehending at times due to sensory and cognitive processing issues.

DOES NOT DO WELL WITH VERBAL INSTRUCTIONS; MUST BE WRITTEN DOWN

Special interests (I'll get into these later).

Emotionally immature and emotionally sensitive.

Anxiety and fear are predominant emotions (some of which might be due to possible OCD).

I do have some sensory issues such as visual processing issues at times, certain sounds, certain smells, food I think, and issues with sunlight and my goddamn retinas.

Moody and prone to bouts of depression. Both of my parents as well as my husband have described my personality as reminding them of a cat.

Mild to severe gastro-intestinal difficulties (some of which could be due to endometriosis, btw).

I stim a little such as leg-bouncing, foot-waggling, some hand-flapping, some bouncing, the "spine-shimmy," joint-cracking, or playing with my ears.

Prone to temper or crying meltdowns, sometimes over seemingly small things due to sensory or emotional overload.

Hates injustice and hates being misunderstood, which incites anger and rage.

Prone to mutism when stressed or upset, especially after a meltdown, likely to stutter and may have a raspy voice.

Words and actions often misunderstood by others.

Perceived to be cold-natured and self-centered; unfriendly.

Very outspoken at times, may get very fired up when talking about passionate/obsessive interests.

Will shutdown in social situations once overloaded but generally better at socializing in small doses. May even give the appearance of skilled, but it is a "performance."

Doesn't go out much; will prefer to go out with partner only (aka my husband).

Will not do "girly" things like shopping.

Takes relationships seriously.

There's a bit on this chart (some of you probably already know by know what chart I'm using here) that says due to sensory issues, one would either really enjoy sex or strongly dislike it. I'm in the former camp complete with a pretty high libido.

Often prefers the company of animals.

So there are the traits that REALLY stick out like a sore thumb. These come from a site regarding female Asperger traits or however it's labeled as. I have plenty more from two other articles I printed out with lots of highlighting, but the chart actually sums a lot of the definitive shit quite nicely. At some point in this list, I could tell I went "fuck it" and copied many things word for word anyways since I'll be talking about experiences later in this post.

But it was this chart that I'd discovered that I started to realize that I really am on the spectrum, and to triple check, I asked my mom and my husband if they saw any of this in me. The traits typed in green are ones I wasn't sure of and had to ask them if they saw it. I'm not always aware of how I am, who I am at times, etc. I also didn't want to lie about it, so I had to get second and third opinions.

Despite all of this, only very few people that know me IRL know about me being Autistic. This is because I was heavily bullied growing up and since I haven't exactly left my hometown, I really don't want whoever stayed in the area as well to either have more fuel and re-enter my life that way, or try really hard to relieve their guilty conscience and demand that I forgive them or some shit. I also don't want "Autism Mommies" to come at my ass either asking that I help their kid (I'm not fond of children so that's not happening, plus ableism is what fucks a lot of Autistic people over regarding of age but they won't take that for an answer) or that because they---a neurotypical person---have a child who's Autistic, then that means they know all about it and because I'm not exactly like their child then I can't possibly be Autistic. It's just a whole mountain of shit I don't wanna get into.

This next bit will be split into 2 parts. One will be my special interests, and the other will be my experiences from my past that are prime examples of being Autistic long before anyone in the common public knew what Autism actually was.

My Special Interests (Both Forever & Temporary)

The following list will have my special interests but with indicators in parentheses as to whether they are forever-interests (as in, I never lost interest in the thing) or temporary (meaning, it was short-lived be it by weeks, months, or a few years). This will be in chronological order, meaning: the order of which these have appeared throughout my life.

Barney (temporary; helped me skip preschool and become honor roll student in kindergarten though)

Halloween (forever)

the color orange (forever)

dinosaurs (forever)

Donkey Kong Country esp. for SNES (forever)

animals (forever)

Godzilla movies (forever)

monster movies (forever)

Pokemon (temporary; I still like Pokemon, but it's not as hyperfocused as it used to be)

Digimon (temporary; same situation as with Pokemon)

Dragonball Z (forever)

Sailor Moon (on-and-off)

Ultimate Muscle (Kinnikuman Nisei) (forever)

Freddy vs Jason movie (still like, but the hyperfocus was temporary)

horror movies (forever)

Transformers (temporary)

Dark Knight movie (temporary)

Harley Quinn (temporary)

Lobo (temporary)

X-Men (forever, but only certain universes, mainly the 90s cartoon, and the character is always Hank McCoy)

neon-colored stuff (temporary; kind of some sort of semi-rave/techno phase)

books (forever; this was when I discovered it's "legal" to enjoy books if you "aren't smart"; I may explain this logic I had later in the post)

sex/sexuality/sexology (forever on the first two, temporary on the last one)

BDSM (on-and-off)

feminism (temporary in regards to doing research and educating myself; I still hold the views I've developed as a result, just not obsessively researching this topic anymore)

anarchism (forever)

ecology (forever)

Pleistocene epoch (forever)

goth and punk stuff (forever after discovering what these things are all about for real compared to when I was in high school and had no idea how to ask, who to ask, or where to look this stuff up at in rural Ohio)

Hellblazer (temporary)

Serbian heritage (on-and-off)

bats (temporary)

arachnids (forever)

teratophilia (forever; finally have a word to describe this damn kink)

gardening (current; unsure)

Russian language (current; unsure)

DIY things (forever)

Towards the end, it may not be in the proper order thanks to slowly losing my damn mind being cooped up mostly in my room on this farm since moving back here in 2014. The two that are "current;unsure" are ones I have a hyperfocus in right now, but I don't know if this will be temporary or not. I certainly hope not, especially considering how useful these things will be. And while I have gardening as one of them, I haven't properly begun yet because I get empty promises from my parents where they claim they'd help me, not to worry about it, then get irritated when I ask where the help is and they suddenly can't give me the help when I told them I needed it.

I should also note that I don't exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge in a whole lot of these interests that are forever-interests because I'm normally exhausted just trying to exist with minimal trouble from people. I'm hoping this will change. The things I know I have an almost encyclopedic knowledge in would be Dragonball Z, animals/ecology, and... a-and that's it. That's really it. That's all I've got because Dragonball Z was so profoundly different compared to other cartoons I've watched in the 90s that it was a wonderful escape, and I grew up around animals, taking care of animals, and watching nature documentaries. The stress I went through growing up has caused my memory of some of that wonderful animal knowledge to be lost and what could be re-gained may be easily forgotten again, hence why I need to narrow my focus for what I'd like to be an ecologist for. While I love paleontology, I want to help the living world's ecosystems and environments, too. I'd love to go back to school for this stuff now that I'm more informed of who I am and what I want in life (as opposed to being forced to pick a college major while still in high school while I'm just trying to survive the concept of existence).

In terms of collecting things pertaining to my interests, a common pattern you'll see me have is a very slowly growing Hank McCoy collection. This is largely because there isn't too much stuff made regarding this character. (There also isn't much stuff I can find that involves Piccolo, Cyndaquil, Donkey Kong, giant ground sloths, etc. that isn't already snatched up by other fans.)

Now, I'm going to get into the list of experiences. Some of which will talk about my special interests, but I also really want to talk about my struggles, too.

Experiences That Screamed "I'm Autistic"

In gradeschool, I was friends with someone who probably wasn't actually a friend and her mom made her hang out with me since I didn't really have any friends. She has told me several times that she didn't want to be my friend anymore with some kind of hostile catty smile, but I just.. I wasn't getting it. Because there was a smile. Why say that with a smile? After all we've been through? Then she's back to being my friend the next week. She really wanted to hang out with the popular girls (yes, there were cliques in 90s American gradeschool) and has done countless things to sabotage our friendship such as telling me Barney is a fake, Donkey Kong was a real gorilla who hung himself, etc. And I believed all this shit, too, in an attempt to still be an acceptable friend. She even told me that I couldn't be a witch because I liked toads so much (toads were the only wildlife I excitedly interacted with in my back yard on a regular basis).

I love Halloween for many reasons, but one of them (aside from my favorite color being involved) was the fact that it was acceptable to wear a mask. I love (and still do) the idea of covering my face because I feel less "naked" to the world. So this pandemic had a small plus for me in the form of mask-wearing outside of Halloween has become somewhat more acceptable.

In 5th grade, another classmate who had more obvious Autistic traits and was diagnosed with Asperger's at the time was an asshole to me. They would constantly give me shit and bully me for whatever reason. When I finally took a stand, the teachers on duty at recess called me to the bottom of the hill, forcing me to look at them WITHOUT allowing me to have my hands up to block the sunlight that hurt my eyes, and were able to manipulate me into "admitting picking on so-and-so for no reason" because I chased them around the playground where a group of girls (the same cliquey assholes the former "friend" wanted to mingle with) had to group-carry me away. They're the ones who snitched and they gave me those same hostile smiles. That's when I learned that not all smiles meant good things. I was 10.

I sometimes "lose the ability" to ask for help long before the "help" I ever got in any circumstance was just me being met with frustration by whoever is trying to "help" me or I'm met with "sorry, can't help you there. (The former being with homework or school work, the latter being with going to authorities about bullies.)

Growing up, I was never girly (or girly enough) and I've tried to, but I failed miserably. My special interests would roar through and because it was too odd or different or annoying, it gave other girls fuel for bullying me with.

Regarding the lack of being girly enough, I was at a pool party with the former "friend" mentioned earlier and she started this "game" where she and the other girls would leap into the pool saying, "I love you, Leonardo!" This was in 4th grade and in reference to the Titanic movie, which at that point, I'd never heard of, because I was too pumped for the latest Land Before Time sequel. So when I leapt into the pool, I said, "I love you, Raphael." All the girls were confused, asked who that was. I then asked, "Aren't we playing Ninja Turtles?" Because the only Leonardo I knew of was a fucking Ninja Turtle, goddamnit. Who let you brats watch that shitty romance film anyways? Boring as fuck.

Aside from the occasional weekend visits or sleepovers at the former "friend's" house, I didn't get to socialize much, so I would spend most of my days (especially in the summer) watching what was on TV or watching from our very large VHS collection. During which I would make mental notes on how certain characters acted or what they said and try to remember that to mimic them in a social setting, which would be out of place because I'd be so focused on mainly the dialogue that once it prompts me to say the thing, they don't respond how I expect them to and then I'm at a loss.

I was very ignorant of music and didn't even know the concept of independent or underground bands existed. Plus, rural Ohio is a cultural wasteland. Otherwise, I would've gotten into metal, goth, and punk way earlier in life. So I thought that bands that existed were because television said so.

Speaking of an odd logic... If it was taboo or bad to talk about, I thought it was illegal. Thus, I thought any knowledge about sex was illegal and that it was supposed to happen "naturally."

I also thought that, because I wasn't considered as smart by my peers, some teachers, and even as such in the form of an insult from my parents from time to time (despite what they claim NOW), that also meant I wasn't allowed to enjoy books, because only smart people are allowed to enjoy reading. So therefore, it would be illegal for me, a not-smart person, to enjoy reading a book. So I had to focus on the pictures because if I enjoyed reading, somehow everyone would know and then I'd get into trouble.

I also thought it was illegal to talk about periods.

I socially struggled BADLY when I got to middle school because my brain was like... 4 years behind? How the fuck do people know all these bigger words? Or complex issues? This was also when I had to start suppressing ALL urges to cry because at that age, I'm not "supposed" to cry over everything. So I still, to this day, suppress it to the point of guaranteeing inducing a headache. Because I've always caught shit for crying.

Middle school was when I met an oppressive "friend" who was obsessed with me because she had a crush on me and was rather controlling of who I could and couldn't talk to and got pissy if I got close to making a new friend. Because I was desperate for a friend that wasn't like the former "friend," I allowed this abuse into my life.

High school was me just trying to survive. By the time I got home, I was too mentally exhausted to enjoy anything short of watching TV or whatever was rented from Blockbuster.

My brain was still feeling like it was years behind, and I struggled to keep up with whatever was supposed to be something I knew about, including the concept of masturbation.

Like I said earlier, anything sex-related might've been illegal to talk about, and because masturbation was still kinda taboo, I feared I'd get in trouble, but my teenage hormones compelled me to do it a LOT. It consumed my free time almost like an escape, a form of stimming, but I was shameful of it to the point of suicidal thoughts.

The former bullet was due to being raised in a christian household. My parents didn't have such views on sex like this, but I was afraid of being in trouble for asking, took to the internet, and caught some misinfo about how immoral it was. I mourned I'd be going to hell.

Speaking of religion, I thought it was illegal to change your religious beliefs, and there was only Judiasm, Muslim, and Buddhism outside of christianity (I'm Pagan, now).

While I was excited to get away from my parents presumably for good after high school, college was a new form of hell. The sudden, dramatic change in environment and lack of ANY preparation for living like an adult on my own caused me to mentally/socially/emotionally malfunction. I had outbursts I desperately tried to suppress, I felt stupid because everybody sounded smarter than me, I didn't actually want to go to art school but wasn't smart enough for anything else and never really bothered to better my artistic skills and thus felt like I shouldn't be there anyways, I struggled to fit in better, I had no idea how to function that certain habits such as neglect of my own dishes on my desk developed because I LITERALLY COULD NOT SEE MY OWN MESSES DUE TO THE STRESS I WAS EXPERIENCING. This was 3 or 4 long YEARS of this.

Attending art classes mostly run by very demanding (and demeaning) teachers while my art skills weren't up to par added to this stress on top of me not actually wanting to be THERE in the first place, just away from my parents.

I nearly ruined a friendship with a roommate because of my struggles. I'm not even sure if she is aware of my Autism because I'm afraid to approach her about it for some reason.

Plenty of times throughout my life where I'm loud and don't even realize it.

I've info-dumped on my parents, but right now they half or completely ignore me.

I've tried making eye contact, but it's like staring in the sun not in the sense of pain, but in the sense of by natural reaction looking away. When I force myself to make eye contact, I'm spending so much focus and effort into doing that to the point where I am unable to pay attention to what the person is saying. Instead, I stare at the mouth so I make sure I hear correctly the words they're telling me.

Each time someone is mad at me and gives me the silent treatment, and I inquire what I did to piss them off, they get madder because I'm somehow supposed to immediately know when I fucking don't. Then, half the time, they continue not telling me and I have to hear it from someone else. This further confuses me as to why they don't just simply fucking tell me.

I've annoyed people to listening to the same one or few songs over and over again. A lot (currently obsessed with the Sunset Overdrive and Tank Girl movie soundtracks).

I can "smell" the heat outside on a summer day.

I can smell other people's unique scents sometimes (especially when in someone's house; also experienced this in other people's dorms).

I can't remember what grade this was, but in high school, we went to some kind of space camp facility thing, and our class was split into two groups: one group was the group who was on Mars and ready to come home, the other was on Earth and can't wait to go to Mars. I was in the former group. My job in this little fun display interactive room thing was to examine the isotopes and report... uh.. I can't remember.. Report something that was off. Everyone else was dicking around with what they're supposed to do, and I was actually doing my job, and then said something, like I was supposed to, if I found something that was off (I don't remember the specifics). When the scientist who worked at the facility praised me on "saving the crew," I caught this look from the entire class a look I can't quite describe other than they didn't seem to like the fact that I did a good thing and was being praised for it instead of any of them (or they were shocked that a "dumb girl" like me could achieve this and get praise for it, I don't know.. hard to tell). This was a science class field trip, but despite this, I didn't have an interest in space, and still didn't feel I was smart. (Come to think of it, I think this was actually an 8th grade field trip, I can't remember.)

Just discovered this today: I'm actually very easily overwhelmed that could trigger a meltdown when I wake up. I don't know for how long until that point passes, either. But this could also be explained with how I've reacted to certain alarm clocks (the ones with the bells just induce pure rage in me). Either I will be on the verge of a meltdown or I'll have a fucking headache all day. Normally, I just wanna drink my coffee and either read or practice a little on Duolingo.

I don't always have enough room for a lot of info in my head for things that I like, so I have to carefully narrow shit down. Right now, I'm trying to figure out what to do about my urge to get my hands on some monster movies while making sure nothing else I've retained info for wanes. Not sure if this is due to stress or what. But apparently I have designated compartments for certain categories in my brain. If I get into monster movies, continue to work on my knwoledge on ecology and paleontology, and gain more knowledge about arachnids, that shouldn't impede on the "language" category, so whatever I learn in Russian will remain safe.

Interest "Webs."

I have what I'd like to call an "interest web." My special interests in one thing can lead me to having an interest in another. I care about nature, and I also care about paleontology. Paleoecology is something I'd like to dip my toes into. But because this all involves nature, I have an interest in botany (though it's still intimidating so I'm sticking with local native trees) and arachnids (after conquering my fears and learning more about them). So the web stops at arachnids there (no pun intended).

Back to ecology and paleoecology...

I have a major interest in the Pleistocene because it was just before we humans started writing shit down. Hints of that era echoes within our current environment, from the pronghorn being "unnecessarily" fast (due to miracynonyx, the "American cheetah," which is now an extinct cat) to avocados not seeding like they should without human assistance as well as the yucca trees (Joshua trees) going into retreat thanks to the absence of giant ground sloths.

But the planet is warming, and we could use all the help from plants that we get, especially when it comes to making sure that permafrost stays frozen. So there's this "Pleistocene Park" project taking place in Russia, and one day, if I get into the field of paleontology, I may want to chat with those involved in that project, but one can't expect every other country to know English.

There's also FROZEN PLEISTOCENE MEGAFAUNA CARCASSES BEING FOUND IN PERMAFROST, too.

On top of all of this, Russia's northern lands will become habitable for humans if shit hits the fan and the planet's mostly fucked, so it's still nice to know the language.

See how all of these interests intertwine? (It also helps that since I am of Serbian heritage but can't find accessible resources to learn the language and I wanna know a Slavic language that Russian is kind of accessible. It also seems to be the only Slavic language "commonly" found in colleges when it comes to foreign language courses.) This is why I call them "interest webs." Not sure if other Autistic people have them, but it's something that I have.

The second one could simply involve Halloween, punk, goth, monsters, and teratophilia with Halloween being the gateway because my favorite color is orange.

Just thought this would be a fun thing to touch on real quick.

My Sensory Traits

I do experience some sensory traits, but they're not intense like some people would assume (unless I'm simply not noticing how intense they can be).

I can "smell" the summer heat, which was something I thought everybody else experienced but I'm wrong.

My retinas hurt in bright sunlight despite not looking anywhere near the sun, which I also thought everybody else experienced.

Drinks taste different or off in some way if they're not in a particular mug, glass, etc. that the drink is supposed to be in. (I have certain mugs that I enjoy my coffee in, but the other mugs? They taste off. I can't explain why. I have ONLY TWO acceptable little tumbler glasses for orange juice.)

Breakfast food does not taste like breakfast food unless it's on this one specific plate from my childhood.

Dinner can be iffy on certain plates, but the safest go-to is the knock-off blue willow plates.

Lunch is acceptable on anything, but if I'm having simply a sandwich, it must be on a small plate.

I have specific forks I'd prefer to use because of how they feel in my hand, how the food-part feels in my mouth, and how the fork itself tastes.

Gotta have cinnamon in my coffee. I just do. It's not coffee without it.

I cannot fucking handle hair snippets of any size for any reason on my body. This is why there is a rigid procedure to where my husband must buzz my hair over a paper-towel-covered sink (to avoid clogging the drain) while wearing a particular tanktop Harley Quinn night shirt, and then I must shower immediately afterwards. During the haircut, my skin itches like mad like I'm being poked by the hairs directly even in places where hair snippets have never, ever gone.

I'm overly sensitive to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes.

Also cannot brush teeth with cold water because it's so painful (this was LONG before I had dental issues and persists to this day). Even my tongue hurts from it.

I'm picky as fuck with candy. Trick-or-treating was sometimes difficult because all I cared about was either orange-flavored stuff, or chocolate. Only specific chocolates, too (Krackle, Mr. Goodbar, Crunch, Butterfinger, Reese's, that was it.) Skittles were okay, but a lot of the baggies I got had a LOT the red ones and the red ones suck. Can't stand the other candies. (But my tastes have changed since then, and I opt for European chocolate from Aldi's as they are far superior, especially Moser Roth's 70% dark chocolate and Choceur's coffee and cream chocolate.)

Speaking of candy, the Whopper's Robin's Eggs tasted better than regular Whoppers and I will never be able to explain why.

Despite loving orange flavored stuff, I have trust issues when I see an unlabeled orange candy because there's the dangerous chance it could be fucking peach flavored. *gag* (I like real peaches, but the artificial flavored ones suck balls.) Due to my dental situation, I cannot enjoy very much in a way of candy, and the only artificial orange flavoring I CAN enjoy is through Vitamin D gummies... And even then, EVEN THEN I have to worry about the fucking peach flavors if I have to go with a different brand because we can't get our hands on a bottle from Simple Truth.

Artificial cherry flavoring is death.

The ONLY flavored medicine that was acceptable to me was orange (of course) and those dissolving strips that were grape-flavored that they don't fucking make anymore because fuck me that's why. Everything else was peer-pressured to do shots kiddie edition.

The different colored coatings on M&M's taste different from one another and I cannot explain why. It's very subtle, hardly noticeable, BUT I CAN TELL.

Peanutbutter is fucking amazing.

The smell of peanutbutter is fucking not.

There are these frozen meals my husband gets for days he doesn't have energy to cook and one of them (all from the same brand) smells like fucking hell.

My husband's Nissan Cup Noodle ramen overpowers my incense despite what other household members say.

I love incense, especially dragonsblood, "coffee time," pumpkin spice, raven, and rain.

All of the autumn scents or scents associated with autumn are orgasmic to me.

The smell of artificial cherry is death.

I would love to have perfume or body spray of Play-Doh.

I can compare smells of some places to others, such as the library branch I frequent smells like my gradeschool, as do SOME of their books' pages, and when my husband and I walked through this hall-like tunnel-like storefront in downtown Pittsburgh, I said it smelled like my grandma's basement, and he thought the same, so we're in aggreeance that all grandma's basements smell the same. Except for my Baba and Deda's. Their basement smelled like they actually still enjoy life and had their shit together.

Speaking of gradeschool smells, my gradeschool had two directions of classrooms, one led towards the gym, but the hall off to the side was carpeted, had some nice colors, and held 2 kindergarten classes and 2 first grade classes. That section of the building had its distinctive smells. The other direction led to the office, the cafeteria, and the hall with the 2 classes of grades 2 through 5 plus the preschool and the art/music class was. The smell was different in all classes EXCEPT for the music/art class, and I never went to preschool so I wouldn't know what that smells like.

ALL PRINCIPLE OFFICES SMELL THE SAME. HOW.

I could smell when my husband accidentally put in cinnamon when he thought he grabbed paprika in a dish that I liked. He was terrified of telling me. That was a happy accident and it became a permanent ingredient. He was mortified and shocked that I could smell his whoopsie in my dinner he made me.

I can also smell the cinnamon they use in Little Caeser's pizza crust. Yes. They use cinnamon. But I was the only one to notice.

Honey is like peanutbutter: it tastes amazing. But holy shit fuck that smell.

Gas stations smell like death, sadness, and questioning life's choices.

No two people's car interiors smell alike.

I can smell when it will rain soon, especially if it's about to storm.

I'm the one who noticed that hairy white oldfield asters smell like cake batter.

Dominant yellow filling my entire vision can be sometimes painful.

I used to be able to "hear" the color yellow in my head so much I thought yellow actually made a noise. It was a particular shade of yellow, and it made this Playskool toy-like clicking bell ringing noise, but really obnoxiously, almost painfully. I don't know how to describe the shade other than "cloudy pastel lemon?" It looked like the fucking lemon-flavored medicine I had to take as a kid.

My parents tried mixing in this cherry flavored death medicine in with my orange soda thinking I wouldn't know the difference but I did, so I dumped it down the drain and opened a new can because that can of Big K orange was fucking ruined.

Orange is wonderful to my eyes. But it's a hard color for me to find when it comes to getting things in a particular color. My back-up colors are red, green, and purple.

The sunlight hurts my retinas, even when I'm not looking at the sky at all, but the pain intensity increases the further I look up on a sunny summer day. This has been like this since childhood. Prescriptive sunglasses shouldn't be fucking expensive and should be covered by healthcare insurance.

I have to try really FUCKING hard not to stare at someone's muscles in person because ugh... Good thing I rarely see anybody who's well-built. (No really, this isn't even really a sexual thing, I'm so fucking fascinated and once I realize "oh, so that particular muscle looks like that from that angle", I get a glimmer of hope that I MIGHT be able to draw something humanoid since I suck at drawing people.)

Orange trees as so pleasing to the eye, and these are much more socially acceptable to stare at, lest I'm in person and the property owner might think I'm plotting to steal some (luckily I've never been anywhere near a place that grows orange trees).

Neon lights are amazing and I want them to come the fuck back. I swear, stores were so much more enjoyable of an environment when they were common. Such lights improve my mood in a way I cannot describe. I'm no longer in a hurry to get home if I am in the presence of neon lights.

Sunny days during winter are painful because the sunlight reflects off the snow. I'm painfully blinded if I look outside or go anywhere.

I cannot handle the sight of someone having boogers/snot hanging from their nose, not the sight of someone vomiting, nor the sight of an syringe needle piercing flesh.

I cannot handle the sound of alarm clock bells. I have woken up in a rage and been in a bad mood I try so hard to suppress for a good portion of the day. If I hear an alarm clock bell now these days, I wanna take it and chuck it across the room regardless the time of day or if I'm already awake. It's not so bad if I hear it from a video. In person? That's starting a war with me.

Children crying or screaming (especially babies) are almost painful to me and triggers my fight-or-flight response.

The reason why I was the loudest mellophone player in marching band was to drown out hearing the fucking trumpets. And I did; I was louder than the trumpets. (I quit marching band my sophomore year but for different reasons.)

Much of the music from the 80s that gave it that sound that definitely said it's from the 80s is very pleasing to my ears.

I love punk music for its messages, lyrics, and energy, but goth always puts me into a headspace where I feel like I'm at home; I'm at peace and want to cuddle the monster under my bed.

However, some punk songs can hit deep or strong and live rent-free in my head, such as Anti-Flag's "Racist," Bikini Kill's "Rebel Girl," and Skarpretter's "Nazi Scum."

One particular artist's voice I cannot get over because his is the first voice of any kind that makes me wanna fan myself is Peter Steele of Type O Negative. My favorite song, however, is "All Hallow's Eve" because his voice, the subject, and the lyrical content.

I'm able to hear something off in the oscillating fan my husband likes to use before he notices it.

I'm the one who can hear coyotes at night (doesn't help my mom wants to blast westerns to drown out the world and I'm back here in my room away from that shit though).

I can hear the branches scraping against the house, gently making creepy noises before I realize what the fuck it is, BUT NOBODY ELSE HEARS IT.

I can recognize the call of a robin because we had so many at the house I grew up in, and nobody else in this family fucking noticed.

I tend to notice the sound of the rain over all the house noise first.

I don't like tight clothing, which is why I prefer bralettes because my tits hurt.

If I could, I'd go without the bra because the band can sometimes suddenly feel tighter than it actually is, but because I have large nipples, I kinda need that bra for a bit of protection.

Shorts can be tight around the crotch, hip joins, and lower belly region, and that's a big no-no for me.

I'd prefer baggy pants, honestly.

Can't have tight footwear. No.

The seam at the top of socks or tights hurt my pinky toes if the whole sock/tights shift that way.

I already covered the hair snippet thing so since this is the sense of touch, another body hair thing is I kinda don't wanna shave my pits anymore because they are extremely itchy when they grow back. HAVE to shave my crotch because if I don't it gets horribly itchy, and my thick, fast-growing hair weaves into underwear, gets caught in pads, etc.

Ah yes. Pads. I hate them, but they're far more acceptable than a tampon or a cup because I have vaginismus.

Certain fabric textures are itchy as hell. There's a black shirt I have whose collar and cuffs are gorgeous but I have to wear something underneath to avoid feeling itchy.

Winter is hell for me here in the midwest, as I am very susceptible to the cold to the point of pain, especially in my fingers and toes. I become very slow, too. I feel like I can't get warm enough most of the time.

Air conditioned places in the summer feel almost similar, so I don't always wear shorts if I'm expected to go into, say, a Walmart with my husband to pick up everything. I'll shiver.

(We're gonna get into TMI territory here.) Can't masturbate by hand unless I've got a nitrile glove on because my brain only focuses on what my fingers are touching more than what my cunt feels.

Can't have any sex with my husband without anything brighter than low-light because things can be visually distracting in the room, or lights can suddenly feel way too bright to me. (Halloween string lights or those LED rope lights with adjustable brightness features and colors are excellent for this situation.)

In Conclusion

This is all that I've figured out so far. None of this hit me at once as a realization when I figured out that I'm Autistic. This took a while to realize it, and the realizations were mostly at random times through examples of other people experiencing it on the internet or through me going, "Huh, is that an Autistic trait?"

There may be even more that I'm currently unaware of or have forgotten to type here.

I apologize for how extremely lengthy this was. This took all day to type because of having to get up and do other things that needed to be done. One of the reasons why I really wanted to type this is because it's much easier to organize this on a computer, and I am absolutely shit at organizing files on my computer.

Unfortunately, while my husband is wonderful in supporting me, my parents aren't exactly all that great at it. Especially my dad, who is either vaguely dismissive or outright "forgets" that I'm Autistic (he honestly just... doesn't care, and tries to make things convenient for him at the expense of others most of the time). My mom... I'm not real sure. There are times where she seems to remember and others where she doesn't. I'm honestly wondering if they don't like knowing that I'm Autistic because that means my brother would have been as his traits were far more obvious than mine.

I hope that whoever is questioning whether or not they're Autistic has found this helpful at least in the sense that it would point you in the right direction on where to go next, but I would highly recommend checking out online Autistic communities, as that's where I've discovered that I'm on the spectrum.

#autism #asperger's #adhd #special interests #sensory traits #autistic traits #sorry for how long this is

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bwwfunfacts · 3 years

Note

Do you have head canon of interaction between Positive and Negative Leo, Emma, and the inhabitants from previous question?

This was the previous question.

I'm not sure if you want me to answer this as each individual person or if I can answer this as everyone. I'll just go with my gut on this one.

Jose Positive: He works hard at what he does and does it with a smile. He's hospitable and wants everyone to have a good time. Negative: He's a lazy bum that just wants to sit on the couch and drink beer while watching TV. He doesn't care about anything or anyone. He just wants to be left alone.

Fiona Positive: She loves the sea and the critters in it. She loves giving education about each creature and wants to keep the waters clean. Negative: Just looking at the water makes her sick. For all she knows, the creatures want to eat her face. She'd rather eat them for dinner instead of swimming with them.

Yuri Positive: It's not just bugs she loves; it's all kinds of small critters. Like mice, gerbils, tiny birds, and baby animals. She wants to care for them and make sure they're healthy. She's really smart too. Negative: She's always flaunting her intelligence when really she's a dummy. She HATES bugs and wants to squish them if they get too close. If it's in the house, it dies!

Haoyu Positive: He's a dreamer that wants to make the impossible possible! He's a friendly guy and can get along with practically everyone. Negative: What's the point of life? He sees the world as a glass half empty. Why bother making friends if you're going to split up at some point anyway?

Sana Positive: She's a nature enthusiast. She's like an affectionate aunt the likes to pinch the cheeks of the little ones. Planting trees is a hobby of hers. Negative: Animals are gross and dirty. And she hates children. Tear down all the trees for all she cares.

Cass Positive: She's a girly girl who is very cutesy and thinks baby animals are adorable. She's very loving too. Negative: She's a goth that she's darkness everywhere. Don't so much as talk to her, or she'll punch you in the face.

Cal Positive: He's a smart guy that likes to pass down his wisdom to others. He'll quickly solve disputes so everyone can get along. Negative: A total degenerate! If there's a fight, he pulls out his camera and records it. Try to guess how many views it would get.

Iben Positive: She acts motherly towards everyone and is very lovable. Negative: She hates everyone and will yell at you if you say one thing about her opinions.

Attilio Positive: He wants to put a smile on everyone's faces. He's a silly billy and a hopeless romantic. Negative: A complete stick in the mud. There's no such thing as fun to him; just get back to work. He doesn't believe love exists.

Lucy Positive: She loves painting and artwork. She will encourage you to try painting yourself and will compliment you on your first try. Even give you advice on how to make it better. Negative: Art is boring and a waste of time. She's a harsh critic and will point out everything that's bad about it.

Eis Positive: He's a noble man that wants everyone to feel safe. He'll risk his life to save you if you're in danger. Negative: He's a coward to a T. If there's danger in the air, it's every man for himself.

Bruce Positive: He's a gentle soul that likes fresh air and clean spaces. He'll do what he thinks is best for everyone. Negative: He doesn't care if there's litter everywhere. He's a grumpy old man that doesn't give a crap about what's happening outside.

Leo Positive: He's an outgoing and excited guy that loves to dance to make you smile. There's no such thing as a stranger to him; he'll talk to a grown man if he wanted to. Negative: His personal space bubble is HUGE. Should he feel violated, he'll run the other way. He also can't keep a beat to save his life.

Emma Positive: She's a sweetheart that doesn't care about what others think. The word shy isn't in her dictionary, and she wants to be the center of attention. Negative: She has terrible social anxiety. She won't even leave her room; she's so scared. She sometimes wishes she could just turn invisible and disappear.

There would definitely be some heads-butting in this dispute. They would be yelling at each other left and right about what is better in life. But really, you need both positive and negative for balance. If you can't balance yourself out, you're just a shadow of your former self. It may sound odd, but negativity can help see things from a different angle, while positive provides the willpower for you to go on. But the whole process would be trickier than that.

#balan wonderworld #wonderworld inhabitants #positive #negative #balance

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monofpoke4life · 3 years

Text

Datr Week 2020 Day One: Missing You

(Totally forgot yo upload this last year. I think I was unhappy with it, but I can’t remember why. Anyway, please enjoy)!

"So how'd you know to do that thing to Chunk earlier?" His young voice squeaked, echoing into the dark, shapeless abyss.

"Any enemy can be felled with the right jab. It's just a matter of knowing where to hit. Most are susceptible to major and vulnerable organs like the kidneys or liver. I am particularly fond of throat punches. They're ideal for stunning an opponent while leaving them alive for questioning." Replied a feminine and distinctly accented voice.

A frown tugged at the corner of his lips, yet all it did was morph a frown briefly into a pout and back.

He felt his brow furrow, as the world suddenly came into view. It was like turning on your phone in the middle of the night. Blinding and full of color at its sudden appearance, but it didn't strain his eyes as they continued on their walk. A set path expanding in front of them far beyond their view, but materializing in front of them with each new step. One he walked what felt like a million times before. No different than all of the other times he walked it. Just the same old sidewalk with the same old cracks that were on his way from the school to his house.

Certainly nothing looked out of the ordinary, and yet, this walk was entirely different. It would be one thing if it were just the electrified thrum in his veins or the ecstatic beat of his heart from the idea of catching Zim in one of his alien schemes or running home to watch a new episode of Mysterious Mysteries. However, it was neither of those things, and had everything to do with the young lady walking beside him.

There was a tingle in his leg, but he paid it no mind as he chuckled, "I'll keep that in mind the next time those bullies try to stuff me in the trash again." He shook his head at the memory from earlier that day, before he pointed out, "But you still never answered my question." Her steely gaze of rare, purple eyes flicked over to meet his own bespectacled gaze as he elaborated, "I know you're British, but come on, "keep them alive for questioning?" You sound like you're from MI6 or something. I mean, where do you learn techniques like that?"

"Girly Rangers," came her little too clipped reply as she turned her head, giving him her full, narrow eyed attention.

At that, his heart suddenly jumped into throat. He could easily get lost in her eyes. His breath quickened just a tad as a wave of nerves crashed into him. Both the expected good kind, and unexpectedly bad kind, settling sourly in his stomach.

They stared a moment later before he called her bluff, and she quipped, "If I didn't find the idea ludicrous myself I'd have swatted at you." She shook her head as a genuine smile graced her lips, before she looked up to the bare branches of the trees that lined their walk, as she continued, "My mother was in the military. You pick up a thing or two with those you live with."

He felt the pin prickling feeling of a chill run down his spine, starting at his neck, yet his body lacked the telltale twitch as he excitedly murmured, "That's so cool!" At that remark, the corner of her lips twitched into a proud smirk at his unsubtle praise. Realizing she heard him, his face grew hot. He wanted to turn away, crawl into a hole, but the sight of her amused, gentle smile kept his eyes riveted to hers.

"S-so what else did she teach you? Anything useful I could use on my paranormal investigations?"

The anxiety in his gut increased, and a familiar dread set in, waiting patiently for his world to shatter. The kind of dread that makes somebody want to hide under a blanket from the world. Yet he heeded it no mind as his lips parted into a shy yet ecstatic smile.

"Sure, one more tip couldn't hurt," she said, murmuring the last part more to herself. "Well, body language is always telling. When someone is lying their eyes will look up and to the right because they’re tapping into the imaginative part of the brain.”

“Wow, so you’re like a walking, talking lie detector?”

“You can if you train yourself enough,” she said nonchalantly.

“Could you teach me?” He inquired as a fluttery feeling in his gut returned. His arm nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he continued, a little too quickly, “Maybe you come over my house some time and-”

“I beg your pardon?” She inquired quizzically, yet something in her voice had an edge to it. Ice filled his veins at that, and he stammered and scrambled to recover, “I mean or your place is fine. Of course, only if you wanted to, but nobody ever usually wants to. Actually, no place is fine then. Look let’s just pretend this never happened and-”

His heart dropped from his chest only to roar within his ears as he felt a delicate finger lightly touch his lips. He froze. He didn’t dare to breathe let alone talk; meanwhile his eyes fixated upon the dainty appendage touching him. If he didn’t know better, a spark spread from her to him, electrifying him from the inside out. His whole body grew hot, and he felt like his brain would melt from the radiant blush that was surely upon his cheeks.

“Hm, so that’s where you’re off button is,” she mused aloud as she pulled her hand away. Her eyes shined with silent mirth. He gulped and could practically hear himself audibly swallow. Gawd she had to have known what that clever smile did to him! Forget his brain melting, he was going to melt into a puddle at her feet.

Dazed, he saw her lips move, yet didn’t hear a word she said.

“Sorry, I spaced out. What was that?”

“You shouldn’t apologize. It’s a sign of weakness,” she chided. He felt confused and opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, she continued, “I said that’s very kind of you, but unfortunately my parents and I are still adjusting from the move; however, once we’re settled, I’d love to come over.”

He blinked owlishly behind his round glasses. His flushed face cooling down within the time it took to sink in. However, when it did finally sink in, he grinned so hard his face felt like it could split in half.

“That’s great! I can’t wait until then! How long do you think that will take? Maybe a week? Oh I need time to prepare and clean my room-er-not that it’s not clean, I-” He abruptly cut off his ramble as he saw her finger raise once more. He skittered backwards with his trench coat flapping with his rapid movements. The usually heavy yet oddly light feeling backpack nearly threw him off balance, but he managed not to fall.

She snickered. His heart skipped a beat, and a warmth coalesced in his chest, emboldening him.

“How does this Saturday sound,” He asked with all of the courage and grace a socially outcast boy, like himself, could with his first real friend. The first person who made him feel secure and supported since...gawd, he couldn’t remember! He couldn’t think!

By that point they started walking again, and that dread came back tenfold. His untrained eyes followed her right hand as she tucked a dark blue strand of hair behind her ear. A gust of forceless wind slammed into them, and it appeared as though she turned her head to shield it from the winter wind. She was always honest with him up until that point, so he had no reason to doubt her. No reason to notice how the motion drew his attention away from her eyes.

But he knew to look for it now, and all of the other times his mind replayed it over and over again within his head. On this night, as it had so many times before, that dread feeling his gut finally crashed to the forefront as everything went dark, and squealing, victorious laughter surrounded him like a stereo system.

He went to scream, to shout, warn her, anything! Yet nothing came out. In fact, she was gone. He whipped around in an attempt to find her. As he looked behind himself, he went to turn back around, and there she was in all of her green, alien, Irken glory as she rushed at him with pak leg raised. When she was so close he could see the darker, barely discernible, purple of her pupils did he finally gasp and rocket himself into an upright position. Eyes shooting open as he nearly fell out of bed.

His stomach roiled as a brief wave of vertigo hit him from moving too quickly, especially without his glasses. With the grace of a lean yet gangly teen, he leaned on his side towards the edge of the bed. His arm flopped onto the end table beside his bed, and he hung his head between the space that separated the two as he let the wave pass. He also took the time to catch his breath.

Once recovered, he raised his head to blearily look for his glasses in the dark. After a few near misses of lightly brushing against them, Dib finally managed to snag them. As he placed them upon his face, he frowned at the sight of the slight tremble of his hand.

At the reminder of his memory, that nightmare, Dib growled at himself as he flopped onto his back. He yelped and flinched as a sharp pain shot up his leg, having hit his ankle off of a bedpost.

The pain quickly went away as swiftly as it came, and Dib huffed and sighed. His forearm falling back to rest upon his forehead. Barely awake and he was already exhausted. Of course, the fact that he had that blasted dream again didn't help at all.

At the thought of the dream again, Dib growled and rolled over onto his side, facing the wall and his open window. He knocked his glasses up towards his forehead as he rubbed his clenched shut eyes with the heel of his palms. If only he could forget and move on. That would make his life so much easier.

And yet...the thought of forgetting Tak or how she made him feel...he could never do it. Just the idea made his heart race into a panic and sent his mind into a whirlwind. His childhood crush aside, Tak was his first friend. A real friend, or so he thought.

Pfft, just his luck that his first friend turned out to be an alien who only talked to him for his information on Zim. The thought triggered a dull, painful ache to grow within Dib's chest. One more powerful than the pain of her trying to destroy the earth. With him on it.

Dib shifted his right arm under his pillow to further support his head while he opened his eyes to pensively glare at his drumming fingers.

"Four freaking years and I still can't get you out of my head," he grumbled to one person in particular. Not that she'd ever hear him, being flung into space in her ship's escape pod and all.

The pod. Possibly drifting aimlessly in the vacuum of space. Cold and lifeless as the metal shell encasing Ta-

He shook his head to dispel the direction of his thoughts. However, he didn't do it fast enough as he felt the slight burning tingle of his eyes welling up with tears only for one to slide down his cheek.

He grumbled some more as he wiped it away and gazed up at the midnight blue sky. The busy tizzy of his mind slowed down to a crawl as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. In and out. Find his happy place and think happy thoughts, or at least ones different from those that woke him up.

It almost worked too, as the angry tension in his muscles slowly evaporated from his body. His limbs became noodle-like and his facial muscles relaxed. The drumming stopped, and his mind drifted into a hazy fog of nothingness. He liked the nature of the nothingness. By definition, there was nothing there. Nothing that could potentially hurt him physically or mentally.

In and out. He pondered the nothingness, and how something so endless in area and possibilities could give him a sense of security, like being wrapped within a warm blanket.

Then, Dib's mind drifted to the thought of security, as it always did. The lack of it, how he could hold onto it, how he could find it within himself or others, and then finally when was the last time he felt it.

"Ya know they're wrong, right?" Tak's voice echoed from a memory that felt like decades ago.

His younger self jumped at that, looking over at her from where she sat beside him in the library. She'd broken him out of a very important task...which was to stare morosely at his unopened book.

"Hm, what was that," He inquired, trying to sound tired to hide the sadness in his tone.

Her purple eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. As per usual her penetrating gaze felt like she could see right inside him, reading him like an open book. However, she chose to ignore it in favor of the topic at hand.

"I said, ya know they're wrong, right? About you?"

His eyes widened in surprise at that.

"O-oh?" He paused a moment, before his brow furrowed and he inquired further, "About what exactly?" It wasn't like he didn't believe Tak. Dib had no reason to doubt her, but years had cautioned him to not get his hopes up.

He watched her frown a moment as she paused. The question caught her off guard as she clearly thought it would be a one and done statement. However, ever the perfectionist, she persisted to speak her opinion of him.

Glaring at the pencil she twisted between her fingers, she elaborated, "Well, a lot of things. The most prominent, though, is that you're not crazy for being different, for believing in the paranormal."

He sat up straighter at that as he continued to stare in astonishment, watching her wearily for any sign of a lie. He found none, but still felt the need to ask, "Really, you mean that?"

"Of course! There's nothing wrong with being different. It-" She trailed off at that. He ignored the part of his brain that thought her brow furrowed pensively was cute. This was a serious, heartfelt situation, and it wasn't the time to make googly eyes at someone who probably didn't like him that way.

He opened his mouth to offer a word, in order to help her along, but she continued before he could.

"It doesn't make you wrong. You- you're not- you're not defective." At the word "defective," it came out of Tak's mouth with as much disdain as one would use when talking about the city's cesspool, and her gaze immediately snapped up to look him in the eye.

A part of Dib felt like she wasn't just talking to him at that moment, especially as shortly after she said it, she unconsciously snapped the pencil in half. It made him wonder who hurt her or called her that in the past, what was their address, and could he beat them up. Well, maybe die trying, but preferably not.

The other part of Dib felt like she meant every single word. Even after everything that would happen later, he still felt she meant it. The way her determined stare carved into his very soul, refusing to look away until he agreed with her. How those amethyst orbs tenaciously glared and willed him to take to heart her words of wisdom, but most importantly; the earnest, raw edge of emotion that slipped into her voice.

No matter how brilliant of an actor she was, she couldn't fake that.

The full meaning of her words combined with her body language finally sank in and a blissful warmth settled in his chest. It quickly spread to every neuron and nerve until it felt like pure happiness, contentment, and safety was going to erupt from his mouth in the form of the widest grin he'd ever make.

However, he had enough sense to not grin at her like a fool or madman. His entire body thrummed with energy and oddly a sense of calm.

For once in his life he felt relaxed, safe, peaceful even. Relaxed to just let things play out, and to have faith in her as his friend, as he did for her. He could say or do anything, and she'd have his back, always giving her 110 percent. It felt...blissful.

However, that bliss couldn't last, just like the nothingness as the memory faded in exchange with his conscious state. Before it fully faded, he remembered he got her to laugh

Not a laugh at someone's misfortune, like Zim, or being victorious against those bullies, like Chunk, but a genuine, gentle laugh with a small smile to match.

The memory faded, and he opened his tear filled eyes once more. As they dripped onto his pillow, he curled in on himself. His heart was as erratic as his breathing. Trying not to sob aloud kind of does that to you.

Gawd how he missed that feeling of security, of being supported, of someone having his back, and boy did he miss the one who made him feel that way.

Ironic how an alien could act more and treat him like a human than the real humans. And there's a high chance that all of that was fake. If it wasn't, well, it was four years too late to think about that.

A choked sob escaped his lips as he angrily sighed out the window, "I hate that I miss you."

#Datr week 2020 #Datr #Dib #Dib Membrane #Tak #Invader Tak #Missing you #Invader Zim #How in the world did I forget to post this #datf

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sinkix · 4 years

Text

《What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Nekoma Edition》

Yo-hoo! Here’s another part to this potential(?) series! I hope you enjoy the possible call-outs in some of these lmao. Writers block been kicking my ass recently but I had a lot of fun writing these. Enjoy <3

You can find the Karasuno ver. here

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Kuroo:

Have a hand fetish and will not say no to choking.

Daddy kink™

Will not accept anything below 6 inches.

More of a dog person but would love to own a black cat.

You drool over tattoos.

Your grades are mostly B’s but you know in your heart you deserve that A, and tbh you probably do. Chase ur goals bby.

Halloween is likely your favourite holiday.

You have to resist not to carve a dick into the pumpkin EvEry GodDAmN YeAr.

You either study for 6 hours consecutively or cannot study at all and you get very frustrated at this.

Have the potential to be a good leader and command the room but probably don’t put it to use as much as you should.

Your playlist parkours from sad 3am crying into your pillow songs to aggressive punk music you could rob a store to.

You like bad boys who hang around bars and look like they would put out a cigarette on your forearm and call you a slut. Just stating facts sweaty xoxo.

Either dress very feminine and girly with a ‘smol girl uwu’ aesthetic or a hardass punk who would kick your ass for a can of beer no in between and tbh both are equally hot.

You’re a big softie at heart either way and just want to be held and told everything will be okay.

Ur a hoe for when people stroke your hair or caress your chin it’s your ultimate weakness.

Watched Rick & Morty.

Twice.

Sleeves rolled up veiny forearms and donning a silver watch are your muse and something you fantasise about frequently.

Most of your memes are shitty top text bottom texts that are somehow funny and I don’t understand why lmao.

You call someone ‘bro’ even if it’s someone you’re immensely attracted to.

Did someone say ties? No it’s just ur dirty ass thoughts thinking about that hot business dudes attire from across the street and how you wish they were tied around ur wrists.

Probably had a crush on Jeff the Killer as a tween and are relentlessly haunted by your old Wattpad library.

Tbh any dark-haired dude with bedhead that screams rugged and probably not good for you is something that draws you like a moth to a flame.

You often question why every person you’ve fallen for has been a Scorpio and curse that tendency of yours.

Dw man they’re hot so I feel u.

Kenma:

Went through a ‘I’m not like other __’ phase and it’s something that you think about a lot and wish you didn’t.

Watched dan & phil as a kid.

Any mention of Pokemon has you turning into a rabid beast you get way too excited.

It’s cute though dw bby.

Pretty antisocial but interesting to talk to.

Your family often question how you’re able to sleep in till 3pm and judge you heavily for it.

Nocturnal night owl gang rise up.

Frequently have bags under your eyes but somehow manage to pull it off.

Listen to ASMR on the down-low and will never admit it to a single soul.

Frequently go on BL binges and have many related book marks.

You pray that someone will never find your laptop bc holy fuck the amount of smut on that.

You wear scarves & beanies even when it isn’t that cold outside.

100% went through a scene hair phase/attempted to.

You dye your hair a lot or REALLY want to.

You have a voice kink low-key so anyone with a pleasant/soothing sounding voice just gets u goin’.

Cats are your favourite animal and you either do or want to own several.

Would name them after video game/anime characters u fuckin nerd lol.

Speaking of cats ,you fantasise heavily about cat-boys and have a folder dedicated to them.

Oversized hoodies are your vibe and always ball the sleeve hems in your fist as a comfort mechanism.

Shopping centres are your worst nightmare and trigger your claustrophobia or social anxiety and honestly I feel that spiritually.

Have a cute sticky note collection.

You like a lot of music consisting of guitar and slow/soothing beats.

You also fw EDM/ techno on occasions.

Honestly wouldn’t wanna anger you since you have a seething temper when pushed far enough.

It’s the kinda temper that’s eerily quiet but no less terrifying, like the other person can tell you are graphically plotting their demise.

You love sleeping to the sound of rainfall and often play those nature ambience videos while you sleep.

Never tidy your sheets and it’s just a big scrunched up heap of fabric in the centre of your mattress most of the time.

Make your fucking bed.

Lev:

Your ships are chaotic and shamelessly controversial.

Would do something just for the sake of creating mayhem lmao.

You were the fucker who stuck their chewing gum under the desk, I see you.

Your brain never stops whirring it’s a constant hurricane of crackhead energy and you have no idea how to turn it off.

Would eat a stick of pencil lead for $2

You don’t help your situation with the amount of coffee/energy drinks you consume.

The class clown who cries themselves to sleep.

Such a wholesome dumbass but somehow kinda intimidating???

Even if you’re not confident you can do something you’ll try anyway and honestly I respect that about you.

You !! use!!! a lot??!! of!! random punctuation!!! so you always??!?!? seem!!111!! excited!!!!!11!?

Every time you’ve ever tried to make a sandcastle it has failed.

You tried to eat the sand once but we don’t talk bout that.

You would also pick up slugs and snails and chase your friends around with them.

Can never tell whether people are laughing with you or at you and while you don’t let it show it high-key bothers you when you’re laying alone in your room at night.

Not one to hold grudges, you carry a ‘shit happens’ mentality which is v good but it sometimes leads to people taking advantage of it or walking all over you.

Your meme collection is both questionable and horrifying.

Like how many cursed images and heavily distorted pictures does one person need.

Never organise the files on your PC/laptop so it looks like a complete dumpster fire.

The one at sleepovers who persistently woke everyone else up with their snickering and refusal to sleep till dawn.

For the love of Asahi charge your damn phone.

I see that red bar and ‘12%’

Charge it now.

Bought a plant one time, gave it a name and talked to it frequently.

It died not long after bc u forgot to fucking water it.

No one better ever make you responsible for a pet.

Type of person that when someone asks you to tag along on an endeavour no matter how stupid it is you will agree.

2am skydiving in france? hell yeah.

Midnight shopping spree and spending over half your pay check? count you in.

Exploring an abandoned hospital and performing an Ouija board to summon the demons of hell? you’re damn right you’ll be there.

I hope you have a mum friend by your side bc if not how are you still alive.

You sometimes put the milk in before the cereal and it’s something I’ll never forgive you for.

Yaku:

Very responsible and usually make the right decisions.

You do have moments where you act like a complete dumbass though.

Like u go from 50 year old to 5 year old in the blink of an eye.

A hopeless romantic but it’s a side you don’t often reveal.

Prefer strawberry milk over any other flavour.

You’re the type of person to shower twice a day w/o fail.

Where that stank smell coming from? Not you clearly bc your skin is basically 90% The Body Shop’s rose scented soap at this point.

You get stomach aches a lot and you can’t figure out why.

Probably an allergy to everyone’s bs.

Really good at dirty talk even though you don’t seem the type so people are always taken aback.

You have to be really in the mood though otherwise it falls flatter than Oikawa’s ass, use your skill wisely.

You often call people clowns when you know you’re secretly the biggest one going.

Honk honk, hoe.

You send messages in one paragraph rather than multiple texts unless you are REALLY excited.

People underestimate you at times then are shocked when they realise you are capable of being a fire-breathing dragon from the flaming pits of hell.

You like spicy chicken wings.

Such a petty little shit at times lmao.

Enjoy the view from the top of mountains so you either hike a lot or really want to.

Way more of a cat person since it’s just much more convenient for you.

Usually pretty cheerful or calm and people are drawn to your stable/friendly aura.

Went through a phase of drinking mountain dew and your body still feels the awful effects

Fav element is probably air.

You’re 5′6″ or shorter.

Box dyed your hair brunette several times and can never get the pigment out to this day.

Yamamoto:

Whenever you smell something weird in the room you always internally freak out and think it’s you.

Head-butting walls is your hobby.

You fell off your bike as a kid and still have the scar on your knee.

Probably have tons of ear piercings.

Would tame a pigeon and call it Larry.

You get frequent nosebleeds and can never tell if it’s a medical issue or your extreme simping for fictional men/women.

Hopefully the latter.

You constantly chew your pen/pencil in class so you never lend them to anyone out of embarrassment.

I really hope no one ever lends you stationery bc 30 minutes later it’ll look like it was mauled by a rabid rottweiler.

You really want to own a dog and would call it something intimidating like Banshee or Diablo.

You bleached your hair that one time and it almost fell out so now you’re forced to stay at least 10 metres away from all at-home hair dye products.

You tried your best though bby so A for effort, even if it did look like dehydrated ramen afterwards.

Your grades are mostly C’s and you’re barely passing bc you just don’t care about your classes lol.

Still though you’re actually pretty smart so put it to good use you lazy oaf, channel that crackhead energy into something good.

Your phone screen has several cracks in it from when you dropped it on the bathroom floor while shitting and you’ll always be angry at yourself for that.

You have some really weird quirks but you make it work.

Actually a v chill person but you just kinda attract chaos/trouble wherever you go.

Carry a lighter with you even when you don’t need one.

Shy texter but once people see you irl you are the complete opposite, you just dk how to text without coming across as awkward.

One of those people that’s unintentionally funny and always get confused when you make someone laugh but it makes you feel good regardless.

Have a cool necklace collection and own at least one dog-tag/army style pendant.

Should really consider buying a rabbit you would look so cute w/ one.

You have really nice legs and people should compliment them more.

Either severely dehydrated or overly hydrated to the point you are peeing pure tap water so for the love of god please learn moderation, your kidneys and bladder will thank you for it.

Inuoka:

Your favourite character would be Hinata but you like people taller than you so your love for Inuoka spawned.

You really enjoy using the double spiderman meme.

Cannot correctly verbalise your feelings without creating a minimum of 10 misunderstandings but once people are used to it it’s kinda endearing.

You usually wake up in a good mood and people can never fathom how or why.

You either stay up till 5am or you wake up at that time no in between.

A morning person bc you love the sunrise.

Change your lock-screen very regularly bc you get bored.

Your humour consists solely of poop jokes.

When you don’t understand a joke you laugh anyway and hope they don’t ask you if you actually get it.

Happened once and you’re still traumatised from the cricket silence that fell upon the room.

Really like the taste of lemonade and drink it more often than you should.

Often think about what you would look like with a shaved head.

More of an extrovert but def have occasional introvert tendencies where you wanna be left tf alone.

Never allowed to pick up anything in stores bc the last time you did you sniffed a scented candle and it shattered to the floor.

Constantly have spontaneous ideas of what to change about your appearance.

You use a lot of hand gestures like thumbs up and peace signs.

‘Dude’ and ‘lmao’ is 90% of your vernacular.

Your nails are a disaster, some are down to the nub while others are pretty grown out bc you only bite a select few please sort it out.

Look really good in red.

Your laptop has way too many tabs open from random google searches of words you didn’t know the meaning to.

You read a lot of books but for like 10 minutes at a time bc you have the attention span of a walnut.

You are the type of person to nuke your AO3 tags with things that aren’t even relevant purely bc you found them funny.

Your Tumblr drafts are a nightmare, you have like 100+ in the works yet keep starting new projects why do you do this.

Happy sunshine but you have a LOT of mood swings like that shit comes out of nowhere.

Cry pretty often but no one ever sees and it’s usually because of said mood swings.

You always smile and pick yourself up again though which I commend you for.

TYPES IN CAPITALS IN SITUATIONS THAT DO NOT REQUIRE SAID PUNCTUATION SO YOU SEEM LIKE YOU’RE YELLING ALL THE TIME.

#hq #haikyuu #nekoma #yaku morisuke #lev haiba #yamamoto taketora #kuroo testuro #kenma kozume #inuoka sou

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tessarichardss · 4 years

Text

new york’s very own tessa richards was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to zoey deutch ! you may know them as @tessarichards or hitting the front page of tmz as ex-reality star rumored to have moved to new york for an internship with hassenfeld children’s hospital . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-fourth birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being guarded , but also tenderhearted . things that would paint a better picture of you would be endless nights you’ll never forget, sunflowers, running barefoot through an open field . ( cisfemale + she/her ) + ( saxon , twenty-six , she/her , cst )

Out Of Character

Hello bbies! 🥰 My name is Saxon and I’d like you to meet the absolute labor of my love Tessa and love her even though she doesn’t deserve it! We are always open for connections, ideas or plots so please, please, please do not hesitate to hit me up if you want to conjure something up with this lovable and ridiculous energetic puppy. I look forward to roleplaying with you and your children!

Basic Information

Full Name: Tessa Grace Richards.

Nickname(s): Tess.

Birthday: Febuary 10th, 1996.

Orientation: Heterosexual.

Language(s) Spoken: English, Spanish.

Background

So Tessa was born to an unwed couple who were in their mid 30′s at the time, her mom thought the two of them were hopelessly in love until Tessa was four and dude just dipped? Her mom came home one day and all his stuff was gone, no note or anything, he drained their account and they haven’t ever heard from him since.

This obviously fucked Tessa up young because she has mad issues with love meaning anything and also abandonment, like she definitely doesn’t sleep well at night because she spent years waking up and running to the window every time she saw car lights, thinking it was him coming home.

Her mom is an absolute saint of a woman however (think Lorelai from Gilmore Girls meets Donna Sheridan from Mamma Mia), just an absolute quirky angel of a woman who definitely took in and helped abandoned animals but was also the place all the kids in town knew they could go if they had shitty parents/living situations or just a bad day and they needed a safe place to go? So obviously she stepped up and took down all dudes pictures and just raised Tessa like the single boss she is.

Tessa grew up into like an angel of a kid but oh buddy was she a chaotic one. Total tomboy, full of insane energy and personality, always on the move and exploring and doing things she shouldn’t be. Definitely the type to show up back at home as the suns going down just covered in dirt and bumps and bruises. 100% knocked her own baby teeth out from falling and slamming her face and had two front silver teeth as a little kid.

She was never very girly and because she grew up in this southern town that was just full of very critical asshole kids from more well-off families than her own was, particularly the girls who were very prissy, she definitely ended up clicking more with boys and quickly became ‘one of the guys’. Like undoubtedly had an all male friend group and was definitely the girl that girlfriends would be paranoid about while all the dudes were like confused as to how their girls were jealous because Tessa was just like another guy/little sibling, there was no interest on either end.

She had two shitty relationships as a teenager, the first cheated on her because she wasn’t ready to have sex and then the second whom she actually gave it up to, turned out to just be with her on a bet to see how long it would take him to get in her pants? She ended up punching dude in the face when she found out and broke his nose and asshole’s family actually wanted to press charges until Mama Richards shut the shit down.

TW: SUICIDE ATTEMPT MENTION Has slight anger management issues? Like she’s chill but when she blows up man does she blow up. Pushed a girl down a flight of stairs at school after she made a remark about a friend who had tried to commit suicide, the family did press charges this time and Tessa had to go to anger management classes and serve community service hours. She also got kicked out of school and just decided not to go back, went online and just got her GED at seventeen instead.

She was (and still is) very close and attached to her mom, absolute most important person in her life, but she worried about her so much her mom realized she probably wasn’t ever planning on leaving? So her mom got the help of her friends and they actually filled out an application for her to go onto a reality tv show? Seems crazy but each season took place in a different part of the world and her mom knew she wanted to travel but would never make the decision herself so when she got cast her mom was just like “lol here you go bye now”.

She hated it at first because she had grown so used to Texas and the country and her friends and making sure her mom was okay that it gave her a lot of anxiety and stress but she actually fell in love with it? Made a lot of close friends, became a fan favorite of sorts and would you believe it, the dumbass fell in love.

This boy wormed his way into her heart and it was a kind of a slightly unstable relationship because she would try and push away from him and her feelings but he always drew her back? He even proposed after like months of them being together and she panicked and ran but still he drew her back and they agreed that they should chill with the idea of engagement/marriage? He ended up leaving the show after like their fourth messy break up? And she, would you believe it, followed. The two ended up sleeping together but she was overly aware of the fact that he wasn’t actually in love with her anymore so she saved herself any awkward conversation and further heartbreak by just dipping before he woke up.

After this, Tessa returned to Texas and spent a solid week just out partying and drinking with friends and suddenly - BAM, she was having a one night stand with a complete stranger which was rather out of pocket for her and then even more suddenly - BAM, a pregnancy with no clue as to who the child’s father was. Thankfully it ended up being the one night stand’s and he turned out to be an incredible guy and father.

Obviously she never returned to the show and focused instead on becoming a mother and setting up a future for herself and her child.

She’s always been a big fan of kids (worked for a daycare after school, actually helped start up a charity that works with orphans/orphanages while on the show) and so she decided that she wanted to be a child life specialist and started attending school during her pregnancy and the two years that followed.

She ended up having a little girl named Addison, this child is her whole world and she’s 1000% the mom that posts about their kid too much on social media but she’s 100% turned Tessa’s life around and helped her mature in ways she wouldn’t have without her and she just loves her kid more than anything/anyone else.

She assumed her life would remain in Texas until a trip to New York a few months back to visit Alex Morgan (who remarked on the fact that she should move in) ended with her packing up her daughter and her bags within less than a month and landing her in the state for the foreseeable future.

She’s currently continuing her last year of school through online classes in order to get her bachelors while interning at the Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital.

Personality

A dork? Literally the biggest dork, the dorkiest of dorks, just a whole friggen dork. This child rambles like you wouldn’t believe and her mouth 100% works faster than her brain so like you never know what to expect but she’s just a happy, friendly, sarcastic little bean with social anxiety and a heart of gold tbh.

Also an aggressive lil’ lady though, like 12/10 chance she’ll throw hands if you want to fuck with or say something about the people she loves.

A chaotic soul as well like down to party and have a good time and will definitely drink a dude under the table, definitely broke her ribs two summers in a row from a drinking game because this child doesn’t know when to slow down or chill out, she’s just trying to live.

Emotional as hell, like definitely cries during commercials and Disney movies, but like if you’re trying to tap into her serious emotions she’s gonna shut that shit down. She keeps people locked out tbh and just jokes about the serious shit in her life if she does talk about it.

Desired Connections

Friends? This is tricky because she was basically in Texas for most of her life and then traveling? But someone who lived in/visited Texas and they met? Someone she met while filming the show in some random country - they were living there or traveling and met while she was out and about one day? Maybe someone she met through her charity work? Someone who has a kid or a younger sibling/niece/nephew/godchild who she took care of at the hospital or even on a home visit and they met her/know her that way?

Exes? So her most recent ex is off limits because it’s based off a real connection but like either of her exes from high school? The first one would have had to have lived in Texas for some time but the latter could have been visiting friends/family for a summer? If anyone has a character that works for these I’m down for the drama, especially the second because Tessa is fully ready to break dude’s nose again.

Half siblings? So Tessa’s dad basically bailed when she was little - maybe he had another family? Could have had a kid before her who he also bailed on, could have started a family during the same time or after, he could have stayed there for them or bailed on them as well? They could know about Tessa, or neither could know about the other? Tessa pry wouldn’t know about them because she made it a point to never bother searching for this man let alone any family but literally I’m down for whatever other ideas you’ve got on this one!

Honestly Tessa needs some guy friends! Like I said she’s always been very much more one of the guys - would rather be drinking a beer watching a sports game and yelling than going on a shopping spree okay she has 0 interest, and since she moved from home she needs a new guy group to cause trouble with but also, who makes a better wing woman than a girl okay? Chaos friend but also mom friend rolled into one because she will get involved in shenanigans but will also call you out for acting dumb too.

Also here’s some open, wanted musing connection ideas; https://tessarichardsmusings.tumblr.com/tagged/tessa-%2B-open

#wealthyhq:intro #i feel like this got long and i only speak in nonsense rambles so hopefully it makes even a sliver of sense

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combat-wombatus · 3 years

Note

uHm if you do these and if you want to do it I’d love a bnha matchup <3?

• my name is Aubri, I’m bi but prefer MHA boys tbh. I go by she/her, too.

• I’m a very Gryffindor person. (Sorry if you don’t know Harry Potter - 😖)

• I’m a June cancer, and I have ADHD and anxiety. My anxiety can be literally crippling somedays, but it’s gotten better overtime.

• I’m a bit of a class clown and usually just a clown 🤡 but that’s irrelevant. My teachers all hate me but like school-wise I do well so we have a love and mostly hate relationship 🤧

• I’m usually the ‘entertaining’ friend, in elementary the popular kids would invite me to play games with them because, “you’re funny” and it was like the biggest achievement ever 😭👍🏻 then they’d ignore me but that’s another therapy session

• I’m usually made fun of by people for being ‘weird’ and ‘insane’. Like all through elementary everyone thought I’d be a criminal when I grew up JUST BECAUSE I HAD UNDIAGNOSED ADHD - I hate it here 😐🦶🏻

• I’ve always been super into crime stories/true crime (where my anxiety comes from, I’m always worried about a pesky serial killer just killing me. It’s usually being kidnapped tho lmao) so I knew and still know like all these murder facts and sometimes I’d just randomly be like;

“Hey did you know it takes 12 hours and 2 days to dissolve a body in acid?”

“If you bury a dead deer over a dead body you buried deep in the ground, when police dogs sniff it and people dig they’ll just think it was the deer and won’t dig any farther.”

• So maybe people had a reason to be scared of me and think I’ll be a criminal someday, i dunno.

• I love love love reading and writing, and also debating. The things I’ve wanted to be when I grow up are basically: Dog shelter worker, actress, FBI agent, politician, and a writer. But usually I just want to do something that makes a positive impact on people. Like i wanted to be an FBI agent to solve crimes for people. I wanted to be a politican so I could actually help a lot of people. The entertainment industry also seemed like a way to make people happy. Idk, but then I decided I couldn’t be a politican at 10 because they were all corrupt and to be one I would have to be too. 😫🤌🏻 we love some good childhood angst

• the only subjects I’ve ever excelled at are ELA and Social Studies aka History, and Math I can’t do to save my life. ELA comes easy for me and I usually don’t have to work that hard and/or get too stressed over it. But I always get the meanest teachers for some reason. For example, one time I did my final essay for like 30% of my grade in 30 minutes the day it was due and I got an A+ 🦟🦗🦟🦗

• Uhhh id describe myself as a pretty loyal friend, I’m a ride or die type of girl. A story from my childhood that summarizes it pretty well is when I was in 2nd grade my friend wet her pants and she didn’t want to go to the nurse for it alone so I peed my pants so I could go with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Like, you know, a professional problem solver

• and I have genuinely attacked people for fucking with my friends but don’t snitch pls 🕳🏃‍♀️💨

• But also just anyone, people at my school tend to come to me with their problems for me to either help solve them by reasoning, or just to confront the other person like the bad bleep I am 😈😈

• I also have a huge daydreaming problem, it’s literally maladaptive daydreaming. So paired with my ADHD I don’t get shit done like ever.

• I have really high empathy levels I guess, like I always say hi to everyone I see on the street, especially if they look sad 😔 I’ve done it ever since I was a little kiddo.

• My fashion sense is very much a preppy/alt style. I wear those ripped tights and fishnets, I also have the MOST BIZARRE JEWELRY- like who allowed me to buy the gummy worm glittery earrings, hmmm???????? and those Mary Janes???????

• But I love crew necks and pleated skirts so I always obide by the National “hoes dont get cold” policy 🇺🇸😫🦅

• I wanna move somewhere someday, I don’t want to stay in America for very long

• I can speak Latin, French, and my native language which is English.

• My music taste varies, but my all-time favorite artists who all of their music they’ve ever put out has been my favorites are, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, and Conan Gray.

• I no-joke have a sign in my front yard that says;

In ✍️ this ✍️ house we ✍️ don’t ✍️ worship Jesus ✍️ but instead ✍️ Melanie ✍️ Martinez

• My favorite shows are MHA (duh), The Promised Neverland, and Malcolm in The Middle.

• and I’m not going to tell you what I prefer in a partner, because that ruins the fun 😤

• but I will say I cannot be friends with someone who doesn’t really make me laugh. Like I’m used to doing most of the talking in convos but if you’re just boring I’m sorry it’s nothing personal but no thanks 😐✌🏻

• About my physical appearance, I have fluffy n curly brown hair, but when it’s in the sunlight it looks sort of brown but golden yk?? It’s shoulder length :) I have bleach blonde streaks in the front. I like wearing eyeliner most days, too. I’m pretty average size/ on the skinnier side. Kinda high key inscure abt my body bc I got flat shamed in elementary EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TIDDIES NOW- whatever 😤🙄. I also have crystal type blue eyes, and I do have fairly big eyes. But, like, not weirdly big. A good big. My cheekbones are ALWAYS PRESENT so sometimes I get called a Tim Burton character but it’s cool ig ☠️☠️ oh and I’m kinda short. I’m 5’3, even though my doctor said I’d be 5’7. I feel like I was either tricked by the doctor or someone just stole my destined height while I was asleep. It’s probably cause I didn’t keep an eye out for Selener 👁 😔😔

• I’m a definite night owl, like all of my energy comes at night which really sucks cuz I can’t do much since everyone else is asleep.

• My love language is touch starved so I’ve never figured it out ✌🏻😗🔫

• but I am an attention whore so idk 😏

• I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety. It isn’t as bad as it used to be cuz I used to not be able to like go to restaurants but now I’m much better.

• I’m a huge history person, mostly like sad history LMFAO. Uh but a lot of my hyperfixations have been on history. Some examples are The Roman Empire, Julius Caesar himself, Anne Frank, The Titanic, the Black Plauge, Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Slavery in the US, Joan of Arc, and just a lot more. I always love talking about these things if someone would let me ramble to them but no one ever does 😖 it also got to a point where for all these subjects I’d go to the library and try to find a book on them but usually I’d either have already read it or I’d read it and know all the information.

• I’m super into Greek Mythology, I have 7 books filled with the stories, I’m going to Greece maybe this summer to see it’s history, and named my hamster Aphrodite but we call her Aphie. I also will talk about this forever and ever if you let me.

• My favorite color is yellow, my favorite food is literally nothing I never have an appetite, my favorite planet is Saturn, favorite song is Tag Your It by Melanie Martinez atm but it changes like everyday.

• Music is a huge safe-space for me if I’m feeling down or having a panic attack. It calms me down n is overall my coping mechanism 💃🏻💃🏻

• Biggest fear is spiders, even looking at one gives me a panic attack and I cannot sleep at all for that night, adding to my insomniac ass 🧎🏻‍♂️🏌️‍♀️

• I’m mature for my age, I don’t exactly like hanging around kids my age and I get along better with older crowds.

• i don’t like conventional dates, (I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO SOUND ‘QUIRKY’ AHAHA) I kind of like having a best-friend type partner more so dates that aren’t as romantic as like the movies or a fancy restaurant suite me better. My dream date is playing Monopoly on my bedroom floor 🦧

• Also I hate getting gifts. End of story. If someone gets me a gift like awe that’s nice but never again, I’d prefer to get you one. Especially in a romantic partner 😐 i keep a journal of my friends’ interests and hobbies so I can get them the perfect gifts for their bdays and Christmas’s. Been doing this ever since 4th grade.

• Though I don’t have much actual experience with relationships🧍🏻‍♀️

• I’m a huge believer in ‘family isn’t blood, it’s who you make it’ because I have a pretty shitty family life and my childhood has been trash. My friends are my family to me.

• Also if my friends don’t like my romantic partner ✨ GOODBYE ✨. Sorry girlie, bros before hoes 🦨💨

I was going to put more but I’m so so sorry for how LONG AND COMPLICATED THIS IS- idk if this is a autobiography or a matchup at this point 🤦‍♀️ don’t feel pressured to do this and if matchups aren’t open IM SO SO SORRY LMAO uh yeah ilysm 🦎🎂🧃

OMG ASLDFKJHASLKDJH

🥺 i’m so sorry bby but matchups are closed ;-; my 100 follower event was over while ago (i guess i should’ve specified that in the asks i answered LKSAJHFLKJAHDS SORRY IT’S MY BAD) but you sound so cool?? i had a lot of the same hyperfixations interests (heLLO helen keller was badass AF and the roman empire was messed up but still v cool, anne frank was awesome too) i also may or may not have wanted to be a politician when i was younger alskdjfhalkdhj but now i’m just 🧍🏻‍♀️ lost and anyways you’re amazing >.< love u lots and don’t forget to drink water and eat a lil something hehe :p

#coco answers #nonnie <3

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charmergirl2468 · 4 years

Text

Past Life AU! Part 3

Golden Deer

Claude

This boi is still biracial because screw you he’s a handsome poc

He will 100% start talking in Almyrian just to piss people off. Ex: “Claude, could pass me the paper?” “Repap? Taht s’tahw?” “Just get me the fucking paper, you dick!”

Grew up with a lot of kids going through Babies First Racism with him but he had Hilda so it’s all good

He’s actually really fucking good at chemistry and no one has any idea why. If you tried asking him, he’d just say it came naturally.

He set up a chemistry club but he just uses it as an excuse to hang out with his other deer friends.

Nobody says shit about it since A) Claude can actually do chemistry so the validity of the club can’t be questioned and B) there’s a 95% chance he’ll just mix together a stink bomb again if someone challenges him

He’ll try to play off getting back his memories as no big deal, but he’s internally freaking out about 15 times over and has no idea how to sceme his way out of this

Marianne

At school, she’s your average wall flower that nobody really knows. Except the other deer but other than that she’s a total mystery

… then she gets home and logs into COD and goes fucking apeshit.

She’s the Legend27 of this AU’s COD and she scares everyone online.

That’s because, as a way to cope with stress and anxiety, she goes feral on video games.

She still follows Sothism. Not in the incel way obviously, but to where it can help her in her weakest state.

She’s still contemplated suicide but she’s got a good support in addition to a therapist so while she still gets that though at her darkest , she’s able to handle it.

Marrie fucking breaks down after she get to the Crest of the Beast part of her memories. All those feelings of dejection and self loathing come back to her and she almost can’t handle it. Raph finds her in time though and help her

Raphael

Boy is a gym junkie. He goes whenever he has free time between going to school and working at a local cafe

He’ll enter competitions for weightlifting and stuff but his ultimate goal is to get on a Fodlan version of “American Ninja Worrior” and win

He is the big brother friend. Need a ride home cause you’re drunk? Fuck the car, he’ll carry you home like a sack of potatoes. Just because he’s a sweet boi does not mean he’s gentle XD

He’s honestly pretty chill about his past life. Sure seeing war in first person is scary, but it’s in the past so why worry about it?

Answer: you should worry about it when it full out causes your friend a severe panic attack

Hilda

Crouching moron, hidden badass. It’s hereditary at this point.

Anyone who tries to deride her for being girly or lazy, that mother fucker ends up flat on their back within a second. They have no idea what happened.

Shes been Claudes best friend since they were tator tots. Stuck by him for everything from bullying to boring parties

That’s not to say they won’t talk shit. Rather, they do nothing but talk shit about each other. It’s how they’re platonic affection manifested and they’re sticking to it!

She feels frustrated at her past self since with modern her it’s understandable to nope out of stuff. You can’t Nope out of a war!

Lysethia

Child prodigy. Full stop. She’s in college and she’s fucking fifteen

She goes through what all Gifted Kids go through and has issues with being social since she build her Identity around being a prodigy.

Claude treats her like a kid mostly because he knows how fucked up it is to loose your formative years to something so arbitrary. He just wants her to act her age and not worry about pleasing adults.

She low key was raised in Fodlan-Mormonism so that also helped fuck her up some. She got the hell out of there on her own when she put 2 and 2 together but she had to leave her siblings behind. She hopes they’re doing ok

Oh, she looses every last crumb of her shit when everything that Those Who Slither in the Dark did. to her past self. There’s tears and snot and anger and a whole flurry of emotions she can’t articulate because of previously mentioned Gifted Child Bullshit.

She first confides in Hilda about it and from there Hilda makes sure the babu has a good support system for dealing with that shit. No deer left behind! Not even our little Fawn

Ignatz

He’s in an animation school trying to get better at his craft.

He does DeviantArt commissions so he can pay for rent when he can. Plus he finds it to be good practice for a future career in animation

He dreams of open up his own independent animation studio and he’s a little over a fourth of the way there! He’s done freelance work animating and, as uncomfortable as it made him, got experience leading a team of animators on a project

He’s dream project, however, is being able to animate one of Bernie’s stories and have Ashe be the voice of a lead character. FuckyouIlovethebowbrigade

He gets a little fucked up over the flashbacks of war and death, mostly because he’s a gentle soul. But Big Bro Raph has him covered

Lorenz

Boy has a superiority complex the size of Fodlan itself.

He also tries to act like a noble man of yore but it’s more to cover up the fact his confidence is a fragile as tissue paper thin glass

He tries to hit on girls and acts like one of those “nice guys” a bit but Hilda’s got a good leash on him most of the time

He’s trying so hard to be an Instagram influencer but he’s as unpleasant online as he is offline so he doesn’t really have any followers outside of bots

His past life makes him really take a step back on his behavior and think “ok Sothis, I’m just a incel in a fancy hat!” And adjusts his personality away from that

Leonie

She’s… actually a very stuck in the closet trans man.

He doesn’t know despite a lot of signs like wanting to keep his hair short, wanting to be just like Jeralt, feeling way more comfortable in men’s clothes then women’s, getting little pockets of euphoria when someone uses male pronouns for him, etc. etc.

He does eventually become friends- er, acquaintances with Felix and that what it takes for him to put two and two together. After that, he started transistioning in every comfortable imaginable

His new name is Leo and everyone loves and supports him!

The memories of his past life gives him a bit of gender dysphoria, especially after the timeskip, but seeing as his ancestor was a badass with an Axe definitely feels validating

There’s the three main houses down! Other parts after this will be for the remaining characters and maybe a worldbuild post to explain this modern version of Fodlan

#charm chatter #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #claude von reigen #marianne von edmund #raphael kirsten #hilda valentine goneril #lysithea von ordelia #ignatz victor #lorenz hellman gloucester #leonie pinelli #past life au!

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

1037

survey by joybucket

Do you have a vlog? No, but I’ve always thought it would be fun to start and maintain one. Just never got around to it because it’s so much work, from conceptualizing to shooting to editing; and idk if my humor will translate to the camera. Plus I hate being shot in public, so it would never work out for me.

If not, have you ever considered starting a vlog? Yeah, a lot of times. It just looks like such a therapeutic outlet that I can sink my teeth into. Who knows, if I ever gain more confidence in the future I may just try making a video or two.

Did you go to AM or PM kindergarten? AM. As much as I hated waking up early from ages 4-6, it was nice to be home by noon and it also made for good training for the rest of my years in school.

What are your favorite youtube channels to watch? Good Mythical Morning, several wrestling-themed channels for their weekly lists, and KBS for their Return of Superman clips. I have a lot of other subscriptions, but those are the main ones I’ve been tuning into lately.

Which relative(s) do you look the most like? I get my mom the most, but sometimes I’ll be told I look like my dad as well.

Have you ever watched a live birth video? I don’t think so.

Have you ever given birth? Definitely not.

Do you remember when the Internet was a new thing? That wouldn’t be possible as I wasn’t born yet and by the time that I was, the internet had already been around for a few years.

Do you remember Y2K? I was alive when it happened but barely conscious, so no. I was only 2.

How old were you when the year changed to 2000? I was 1, turning 2 that year.

What was your favorite childhood vacation? We didn’t have lots of vacations when I was a kid, because for most of the 2000s my parents were still busy saving up and climbing up their respective ladders at work. We only started to regularly go on vacations by the time I was around 11, when finances started to get easier to handle. That said, as a kid I really loved the time my parents would bring us to the local water park on weekends.

Have you ever wished you were born the opposite gender? As a teenager when hating pink and general girliness was cool, probably. I don’t wish for it now.

What's your birth order: oldest, middle, or youngest? I’m the eldest.

Do you fit the stereotype for whatever birth order you are? Idk what kind of stereotype you’re looking for, tbh. As much as I don’t really like tooting my own horn, I’ve heard firstborns are usually more intelligent than their younger siblings and I would attest to at least that lol

Have you ever worn overalls? Yup, though they aren’t the denim kind.

If you're a girl, how old were you when you started your period? I had just turned 10. I thought I was going to get it while I was still 9 (the signs had been showing for a while by then), but it ultimately came a month after my 10th birthday. Still, I was one of the rare cases in my family who had it at a lot younger.

Do you get cramps? I used to get leg cramps all the goddamn time as a kid, and they always came in the middle of the night. I don’t get them or any kind of cramps anymore, thankfully; and the only time I do is on my fingers when I don’t hold my chopsticks properly.

Is your mom mentally stable? I think there are definitely some things therapy could fix.

Is your dad a complete jerk to you? No, you’re referring to the other parent.

Where do you want to go on vacation next? Oh my godddddd, Thailand plz.

What is one place you want to visit before you die? Wrestlemania.

Has anyone ever committed suicide in your town, that you know of? A neighbor’s kid passed away a few months ago, but I didn’t know them.

What's your favorite type of crackers? Ritz Bits are where it’s at.

What's your favorite spice? Cumin.

Are you sensitive? Yeah. I’m a little soft and I tend to take a lot of things personally.

Are you intuitive? It wouldn’t be the first word I’d use to describe myself, but I guess I have my moments.

Are you spiritual? No.

Do you wish your life were easier? Um, if it was a legitimate option then yeah obviously.

What color hair did your first crush have? Black.

What was the name of your first crush? Andi.

Did you ever play on Mamamedia.com? I don’t think I’ve heard of that site. If we’re talking of websites that host flash games or whatever it is they’re called, I always hung out on Y8 haha.

Do you remember your first email address? I didn’t anymore before encountering this, but this question made me automatically rack my brain and now I do remember and now I’m wincing as well.

Did you name your lego characters? I didn’t make any characters, I think. I just liked making towers.

What was/is your high school's mascot? Both my schools don’t have mascots.

What is/was your favorite class in high school? All the history classes we had to take under the social sciences umbrella; it was Philippine history for freshman year, Asian history for sophomore year; world history in junior year; and then unfortunately we made the switch to basic economics for senior year which was like ???? Why couldn’t we have gone all the way with history? Economics ended up being super boring lol.

Is college an adventure? It really was. I grew and learned so much in it and I couldn’t have spent the last four years in a better place and a better school.

Do you take medication for anxiety or depression? No.

If so, does it work? Does it help you? Or does it make you feel worse?

If applicable, what form of birth control do you use?

Who is your favorite cousin? My eldest cousin on my mom’s side, who pretty much feels like my older brother and not a cousin at this point.

Do you look your age? According to most, no. I look a little younger than 22.

What's your favorite flavor of frosting? Chocolateeeeeeee.

Do you like toe socks? I’ve never had to wear those before so I don’t have an opinion.

Muffins or cupcakes? Cupcakes.

Have you ever had a bag stolen? I’ve had a wallet stolen, so kinda.

How old were you when you got your first phone? I was technically still 6 because I had an advanced celebration, but it was for my 7th birthday.

Are you ready for summer?!?! Now that I think about it I do want to go back to summer, just because it was such a vastly different – and a lot happier – time...

Is winter your favorite season? It probably would be if we had it.

How many people do you know who've said winter is their favorite season? Zero.

Are you unique in any way? I think everyone is.

Do you have any hidden talents? if there are any left, I’m not aware of them yet.

Has anyone said you and your mom look like sisters? Just about everyone, all the time.

Who was your best friend in high school? Gabie for the most part, but Angela was there as well.

What book or movie gave you nightmares as a child? Commercials creeped me out as a child, not a certain book or movie.

What song makes you cry? Usually it’s 26 by Paramore, but not always.

Does anyone know who your first crush was besides you? Yeah, I’ve told a couple of people.

How many teachers have you had crushes on? I think around three or four. Possibly more, but I don’t remember all too well as I’ve since discarded a lot of memories from my old school.

Did you make your Barbie dolls get crushes on each other? Nah. I mostly stripped them of their clothes and broke their arms and legs, lol.

Did your Barbie dolls go on dates? Nope. I didn’t have enough dolls to do that, anyway. It wasn’t my toy of choice.

How old were you when you had your first kiss? I was 16.

Do you like church? Hell no.

Do you have scars from self-harm? You’d only be able to make them out if you knew I self-harmed, but I think they’re almost unrecognizable at this point.

Do you have cellulite? It’s only present if I tightly twist my skin.

How old were you when you started getting zits? Not sure, somewhere in the middle of high school. I’ve never had lasting problems with acne though; I only ever get one or two at a time and it happens like, once a year.

Did your hair change at all when you went through puberty? Aside from hair growing in places? No, not really. It stayed the same.

Are you taller, shorter, or the same height as your mom? I’m a tad bit shorter, though for a time it seemed as if my growth spurt would lead me to overtake her.

Would you ever consider adopting a child? It’s not a personal choice of mine, but there could very much be situations in the far future where I would consider doing so. I’m not shutting that possibility down.

Who was your first roommate? I’ve never had one; I haven’t tried living on my own yet.

Have you ever had a teacher who was rude? So many.

Is your mom paranoid? Very much so. She shows some signs of OCD and her paranoia is reflected through that.

Do you trim your own hair? Not my hair, but I do this with my bangs.

Did your mom read you bedtime stories as a child? No. That’s one of the things I’ll change if I myself become a mom.

What are all the things you remember being for Halloween? Pirate, Tinkerbell, Daria, AJ Lee, Dora the Explorer, Sofie.

What was the name of the first pet that you loved? My first goldfish.

Did you have your own room as a child? Not until I was 10.

What color was your nursery? I wasn’t put in one. I shared a room with my parents and siblings until I was 10.

Did your parents know your gender before you were born? I think they waited it out until a few weeks before I was born.

What is your name (first and middle)? My first name is Robyn and my second is Isabelle; I don’t need to share my middle name.

What would you have been named if you had been born the opposite gender? They never thought about it, which is kinda disappointing because I do want to know what my other name could’ve been.

Do you like your name? I’ve ended up doing so, yes.

What would you name your children? I haven’t cemented decisions that far ahead. I have ideas for names, like Olivia, but they’re nothing absolute.

Do you exercise regularly? Nope.

Do you have a healthy BMI? No, I’ve always been a little underweight.

What is your favorite season? Wet/rainy.

Do you look like your mom? This is like the third time I’ve answered this within just this survey lol, yes I do.

What is the origin of your last name? Spanish/Portuguese.

What is the meaning of your first name? I’ve heard it means ‘fame.’ I just don’t feel like checking.

What month were you born in? April.

Do you share a birthday with anyone in your family? Nope. But my sister and one of my cousins share the same birthday, right down to the year.

Do you have a sweet tooth? Eh, it comes out every now and then but it’s not all the time. I definitely enjoy savory more.

What photo editing software do you use? None lol, photo editing is one of my Achilles’ heels.

Where do you buy most of your clothes? Tianggeeeeeeeees.

#survey #surveys

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rachelfaasfibers · 3 years

Text

Reading as Resistance: Gendered Messages in Literature and Media

By: Laraine Wallowitz (2004)

“I wanted them to understand that reading a text from a feminist perspective changes their understanding of its meaning, that literature and media both reflect and create images of femininity and masculinity, and that readers project their own assumptions about gender onto a text.” (page 26)

Wallowitz is speaking on the topic of how teaching Women’s Studies to high school students give them ideas of how to view gender stereotypes and how to become aware of them through life. With having his students read in a “feminist” perspective, the students are able to become more aware of subtle and strong signs of gender stereotyping throughout a day to day basis. This could be from what they read in school, on the internet, social media, television and many other contributing factors. With this, they can determine perhaps what they have experienced in life. I find that when I was growing up, often times I would lean towards the color pink for example, was that my decision or was their underlying factors that caused me to gravitate toward that color specifically.

“Empowering students by teaching them how to read the “word and the world” (Freire and Macedo) necessitates a new way of thinking about English instruction.” (page 26)

This goes in line with reading in a feminist perspective. I find that just because I read something from class, does not necessarily mean that I have to have the same assumptions that that specific text has. With this in mind, one is able to refer to past learnings and experiences with reading the “words” of the text through their own lens of the world. With reading the world, this goes align with how Wallowitz strives to get his students to understand how the world has labeled genders. It is important that we not only learn about the past, with understanding where stereotypes stemmed from, but also how we have challenged those ideas, embracing that times are changing and women and men are starting to be seen more as equals rather.

“Without a broadened sense of the variety of texts that create and reflect notions of gender, students, like Laurie, make false assumptions both about the texts they interact with and about themselves.” (page 27)

This emphasizes how we cannot simply rely on traditional or academic text, but to the world around us in the media, advertisements, clothing, film, art and anything that is relevant and popular to this day and age. Much, if not all of what I have learned in studio art and art history classes, relates with what is going on in the world. Either this is from reading articles from a variety of art historians, to creating my own art in the studio. With being mindful of the world around me and connecting what I have learned in and out of school in terms of art has allowed me to focus more on own experiences and how I am an individual in the world. Art work, just like scholarly articles, stands in place as a source that people can rely on in the future to understand the past. It is important for people to grasp the importance of not only traditional learnings of text, but as well as the media and the arts.

‘’One of my objectives for the unit was to teach them how our notions of femininity and masculinity are socially and culturally constructed by the music we listen to, the books we read, the television we watch, and the stories we heard growing up.” (page 27)

Growing up, I remember going into Target and seeing all the toys, naturally being gravitated to the “girls” aisle that was pink and purple. At that time, I played with dolls, wore the color pink often, and took ballet classes. I did not see this as a gender stereotyped way of life until understanding roots of gender and how women and men were seen in the past and how they are today. The boys aisle at Target had cars, things to build, and toys guns and weaponry. As a kid, the differences were no big deal to me, for some toys were for girls and some were for boys. I learned this growing up with advertisements on TV with young girls playing with dolls and boys playing with cars and building with Legos. Now, I understand that this was all caused by the construction of our culture and how people expected genders to act.

“Students quickly learned that characters who do not fit stereotypic images of men and women are read as abnormal.” (page 27)

I think that the fact that the students recognized this, is a large step for they are understanding a point of view that does not align with how they feel perhaps. Times have changes immensely, even within the past twenty years of my life. People are starting to see these stereotypes for what they are and beginning to challenge it. It is okay if a person who is labeled as a girl wants to visit the blue Target aisle if that is what they prefer. Same goes for any person, and today that is not seen as terribly abnormal but still is an issue that people will face for years to come, for it is different than the normal that has been shown in the past.

“Personal narrative provides another opportunity for students to explore the connection between gender bias and environment.” (page 27)

Understanding the background of a person, specifically yourself, helps understand how the environment around you impacted your personal growth. With this, one can pick a part instances in their life could have been impacted by gender bias. Did I take interest in dance because it seemed “girly” and fitting to me? Was my favorite color pink because someone told me it was, or did I make that decision on my own? It is interesting to think about, for your childhood impacts your growth heavily, and these gender ideals surrounded us one hundred percent of the time.

‘’Once students have a better understanding of the ways in which environmental factors, such as childhood and family culture, influence concepts of gender, they are ready to recognize subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages in literature and media.’’ (page 28)

I find that now that I am more aware of gender stereotypes, I can interpret and understand certain movies from the past in a different way. As a kid, it was normal for the girl in the story, normally a princess, would need help from the prince in some form to fulfill their life. Most plots went along with this, and that did not seem bad. But now understanding how needy and gentle these women were, and how they were seen as characters girls looked up to, is extremely concerning. Today many people see that it is important to raise their children, no matter the gender, strong and independent. This staggers away from the traditional way a young girl should act or behave, but it is challenging the past ideas. This is why I believe this quote is important for it explains the importance that students understand the influences around them.

“Folktales serve several important functions in a society that include projecting values and expressing a culture’s taboos and anxieties.” (page 28)

I find this important for it speaks on the topic of girls, princesses, and fairytales and how they impact the values that children embrace at young ages. Wallowitz speaks about discussing Cinderella, and how she is seen as a house maid, staying indoors and does not have much say in her life. Yet, young girls are inspired by her, for in the end she is happy with her prince and that is all she needs. These stories have been passed down from generation to generation, so this is often seen as a normal way of life. Due to this, it is hard for people to escape the past and look into the future for a more understanding way of life. Recently, women have made more leaps in regard to education, accomplishments and success, leading us to making the genders more equal. There have been more movies and music artists for instance in recent times that highlight women in a powerful way, meaning that this is how many want to view women today and recognize them for.

“Casey, who read “The Birthmark” by Nathaniel Hawthorne, discovered how women are objectified in literature and noted the narrator’s unfair comparison of his wife to a flawless statue, an ideal impossible for her to achieve.” (page 29)

This quote shows that students understand how certain ideals that were pressed onto women, were impossible to do and how that was disturbing to them. No one wants to be told what to do, how to dress, who to like, and so on. Yet people are gravitated to the normal and often times do not see that. There have always been standards of women and how they are meant to look and act, but these change over time. This impacts many by social media (who is popular, where they shop, what they eat, and so on). People nowadays have the capability to alter their images of their bodies they post on social media for instance, because they want to be seen like the famous people who look a certain way. They feel their body is not good enough for the standards that are held for women today. Clearly this is an ongoing problem that does not seem to be going away anytime soon, we just need to learn how to understand and grow.

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

is that as good as it gets?

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: teen & up

warnings: none

tags: memory loss, amnesia, fluff, introspection, established relationship, some gender-y discussion

word count: 9,101

sequel to still the best, more or less (which you can read on ao3 or here on tumblr) and so easy to come back into you (on ao3 and tumblr) and written for the lovely @intoapuddle <33333 happy belated birthday pal!

read on ao3 or here!

Phil loves his parents. He always has, even in the worst of the puberty-fuelled rebellion. Well, alright, 'rebellion'. There were a lot of long nights spent with a book and torch or his GameBoy under the covers, heart pounding in his ears as he listened for any sign of his parents coming to check on him, but he doesn't think that counts.

Even when things were at their hardest, he still loved his parents. He loved them when his dad kept asking after girls with absolutely no inclination that there were other things he could be asking in order to know his son better. He loved them when his mum pulled him aside and said his new hairstyle made him look 'a little girly, love'. He loved them when he was grieving for a friend and they didn't know what to say, how to help.

Right now, he loves them. Beneath the fear and the guilt and the anxiety and the frustration that's been his whole weekend, there is a solid bedrock of love and trust that will never crack.

"They keep treating me like I'm twenty," Phil complains, quiet because he isn't sure how thin the walls are in this new house.

"You kind of are. Like, in a way."

Dan's voice is so comforting, even with the swirling mix of emotions that Phil is dealing with right now. It helps to ground him, that soft, posh, sleepy voice.

"Yeah," Phil says. He rolls over, stretches out, because even a double bed feels too big without a second set of too-long limbs. "But it's like, they're not even acting like I'm an adult. Mum's been asking how I'm feeling every twenty minutes and dad called me 'kiddo' at dinner."

"They're doing their best," says Dan. He's five hundred kilometers away, on a different island entirely, but if Phil closes his eyes he can pretend they're just murmuring across the distance between their pillows.

"I know they're doing their best, babe," Phil sighs. "It's just that this was so easy for you."

Dan laughs. He doesn't have to be quiet the same way Phil does, nobody trying to sleep on the other side of his headboard, but he matches Phil's volume anyway.

"I'm sorry," says Dan. "Did you just say this has been easy for me? I'll have to refer you to my therapist."

Somehow, Phil smiles. He doesn't feel like smiling at all, so exhausted by the role he's been playing with his family, but Dan always seems to have that effect on him. "I mean, you just treated me like a regular person right out the gate. They're acting like I'm gonna break."

"Maybe you will. I've seen how you stumble on those cliffs."

Phil chuckles, low, and then sighs into the phone. He's getting more comfortable with having the flat rectangle between his ear and shoulder. "I miss you."

"Mm," Dan hums. It sounds like he's smiling. Phil has never wanted to be somewhere so desperately. "Miss you, stupid."

"Are we always this bad when one of us is away?" Phil asks. He wishes he was talking on an old landline, wants to twirl the cord through his fingers while he and Dan whisper to each other. It's better than what his fingers are doing now, which is reaching out on reflex for a warm, citrus-and-mint body that isn't there.

"Yeah," Dan says with unabashed simplicity.

"I'm glad," says Phil. He feels a slight itch under his skin, unsettling him, but he fights it down by repeating, "I'm really glad. Like... I'm glad I'll still feel this way about you ten years from now."

"You're such a sap," Dan says, fondness seeping out of every word. "Normally you just call me a rat and ask if I'm eating."

"Are you eating, rat?"

The loud bark of laughter down the line makes Phil's toes curl with happiness. He loves that sound, loves making Dan laugh in such an unrestrained way. "Yes, Phil, I'm eating. Probably not as good as you are, I'm sure mum's got you eating like a king."

It's still so strange to hear someone else call Phil's parents 'mum' and 'dad' - someone who isn't Martyn, obviously. From everything that Phil has learned about Dan over the past two and a half months and every tiny detail he's remembered, Phil is certain that the titles were something his parents insisted on. He doubts Dan would have just started saying them on his own, even with all the social grace he sometimes lacks.

That makes him feel warm, too. He's never exactly thought his parents would hate him for who he is, but. He hasn't been a hundred percent sure.

Phil doesn't think that anybody is a hundred percent sure that their parents will love them the exact same way if they bring home someone who's the same gender. He loves his parents, he trusts them, and he's still been terrified about letting them in on the life he was living at uni.

They know Dan, though. They ask after him every time they talk to Phil, call him whenever Phil doesn't answer his phone, tell him to think of them as 'mum' and 'dad'. Like he's part of the family. Like it's all the same to them what Dan is, as long as he's making Phil happy.

"You're sure you don't want to come up?" Phil asks, fully aware of how needy he sounds.

"Positive. It's important for you and your parents to get to know each other, like, as you are now. I'm afraid I'd just distract all of you with my wit and charm."

That's probably true. Phil huffs another sigh, anyway. He pulls a pillow closer to him, wraps an arm around it. "But I miss you."

"Christ, Phil," Dan says lightly. "You been drinking or something?"

"Am I not allowed to miss you?" Phil grumbles.

"Course you can miss me," says Dan. "I miss you when you're in another fucking room of the apartment, sometimes. I just haven't heard you say it so much since we first started dating."

Phil thinks that's a little unfair. It still feels like they are in that honeymoon stage of their relationship, to him.

He wonders how long it's going to take before his slow trickle of memories and natural progression of time team up to make him as settled in their relationship as Dan is. It's almost disheartening, knowing that Dan doesn't want him as desperately as he wants Dan. It's a different kind of want, of affection, and it's a kind that Phil has never experienced before. He's almost afraid to reach that point.

"I'll be quieter about it, then."

"Don't you dare," Dan says, and Phil laughs. The knot in his chest starts to ease.

"Should sleep," says Phil. "Mum wants to go for a walk before we eat breakfast, what the hell. Who walks?"

Dan laughs. "Be grateful Martyn isn't there, or the walk would turn into a hike before you could say," he makes a dramatic wheezing noise instead of finishing with a word, and Phil has to cover his mouth with a hand to contain giggles.

"You're so annoying," he whispers. He wonders if Dan can hear the emotion behind the words, the same way Phil has figured out that when Dan calls him stupid, it means 'I love you'.

"Yeah," Dan agrees warmly. Phil thinks, yeah. He can hear it. "Go to sleep, Lester."

"Oh, honey, you remember Mrs. Oliver, down the street?" his mum asks, bustling around the kitchen and waving Phil away anytime he tries to jump in and help. It's starting to get to him, a bit. He's not an invalid.

"No, mum," says Phil. He wonders if he sounds as annoyed as he feels. "I don't know any of your neighbours. I don't even know mine."

If he does sound annoyed, his mum breezes past it. "Right, of course. That's probably a good thing, to be honest with you, love - she's a right witch. Just last week..."

Phil zones out almost immediately. He loves his parents so, so much, but they have no idea how to act around him. His mum has been plying him with cakes and giving him neighbourhood gossip, doting like he's sick, and his dad has been watching him like he's a ticking time bomb.

That might actually be true. Phil had only clung to his composure by a thread when they decided to tell him, conversationally, about his dad's health issues. Just dropped the C word with no hesitation.

Being with his parents is nice, but he wishes he had Dan at his side. Even Martyn would be better than nothing. He needs something to dilute the smothering worry and death bombshells they've been putting in Phil's lap all weekend.

Phil has been counting down the hours until he can be back in the noise and bustle of London, far away from all this anxiety. He has never exactly been outdoorsy, and as much as he appreciates the beautiful views here, as much as he appreciates his lovely parents, he just wants to go home.

It's strange. By all intents and purposes, he should feel more comfortable around his parents than he does around Dan. He's known them his whole life, and twelve years isn't nearly enough to erase everything they know and love about each other. He hadn't known a single thing about Dan when he woke up in their shared kitchen, but. That doesn't seem to matter.

London isn't the only thing that feels like home to Phil. It isn't just the rolling hills and the sound of the sea making him unsettled, it's the lack of a big hand on the small of his back, guiding him away from a tripping hazard.

The itch hasn't gone away. Phil keeps expecting it to fade, the more he and Dan get to know each other as they are now, but it's still there. Persistent.

Growing up, Phil never expected to be someone that was scared of commitment. He'd always wanted what his parents had, after all, even after he came to terms with the fact that he might never be able to be married the way they were. Then, he actually started to try and date boys.

Phil doesn't fancy himself an expert on gay culture. He didn't join the society at uni or anything, has never read a queer theory book in his life. So he has no idea if this is, like, typical, but it turned out that gay boys - at Phil's university, in any case - weren't interested in dates. They only really cared about hooking up.

Honestly, Phil has never wanted anything more than he wanted to go on a proper date with someone he wasn't pretending to be attracted to, but it's always been easier to just act like those desires aren't there.

The idea of getting married, now, is terrifying instead of a pipe dream. He isn't sure when that happened.

Somehow, he'd become one of those boys who'd hurt him in the beginning, who called him the wrong name unapologetically or reminded him not to wake up their flatmates on his way out. He'd finally understood the appeal - he couldn't get hurt again if he didn't care again.

He doesn't want to hurt Dan, though. This self-built fear is his to deal with, something he's positive that 2019 Phil has long since gotten over.

"Mum," he says, cutting into whatever she's been saying about her neighbour while he sulks.

She doesn't seem very bothered by the interruption. She gives him a quizzical sort of smile as she mixes flour and eggs together. As if they need more bloody cakes in this house. "Yes, dear?"

"You like Dan, right?" he asks.

It feels like a pointless question. He knows the answer already.

Still, his mum doesn't laugh at him for asking. She smiles, more warmly, and leans her hip against the breakfast bar he's sat at. Phil's damaged brain supplies him with a hundred moments just like this one, watching his mum bake up a storm for no reason besides keeping her boys fed and happy.

"We love Dan," she assures him. Phil notices the 'we' statement, so caught up in the way Dan uses them as he's been. "He's a lovely boy."

"Even though he swears a lot?" Phil jokes weakly. He can't bring himself to ask the question he really wants to.

His mum gives him a look, like she knows exactly what he isn't saying. It's uncanny, how she's always been able to see through him. She'd had a blind spot, sure, but Phil can't put that on her shoulders when he'd done all he could to keep it under wraps.

"Daniel is lovely," she repeats, turning back to her mixing bowl. "He's a good man who takes care of you, dear, what else could we ask for? Besides, he's no worse than your brother."

Phil doesn't think that's true, exactly, as he's heard Dan come out with curses that Martyn probably doesn't know exist, but he isn't about to argue the point with her. Not when he hears the words she isn't saying.

They really don't mind. His mum and dad are happy for him, they have Dan calling them 'mum' and 'dad', after all. His brother doesn't bat an eye when his partner kisses him at the dinner table. They don't just tolerate this part of Phil's life - they embrace it. They embrace Dan, the man Phil had fallen in love with.

He doesn't think he's quite there. Not yet. He's never been in love before, so he's sure he'll notice when his feelings tumble into that.

"I miss him," he tells his mum's back, because he can say things like that to her now. That's not something he's going to take for granted, no matter how stressed they've been making him.

"You'll be home soon, love," she hums.

Home. Also known as the space where he slots his knees into the backs of Dan's and buries his nose against Dan's soft curls. He'll be there soon.

"How are you feeling, actually?"

Phil's dad looks up from the malfunctioning radiator and gives Phil a thin smile. "How are you feeling, actually?"

"Touché," Phil mumbles. He's not helping with the repairs so much as he's sitting on the cold cement floor and passing tools to his dad when he asks for them. He wonders who's going to do this sort of thing when he and Dan buy a home.

Great, now that itch is back. All he wanted was to know if this is something he should be learning how to do. They've probably got enough money to pay someone else to do it, Phil supposes.

Dan still hasn't let him look at his bank account or their joint account, which would bother Phil if he had any idea of how to handle money at all. His parents have taught him the basics of budgeting and investing, sure, but he doubts that they've properly prepared him at this scale. He's happy to leave all that to Dan for now.

"I'm feeling good, actually," his dad says. "Still kicking, and all."

"Same," says Phil. Neither of them laugh.

A quiet falls over them again as his dad works. Phil leans against the wall and tries not to get frustrated by the little glances his dad keeps sending his way.

He understands that they're worried. He'd be going out of his mind if this had happened to someone he loves. It's really starting to get to him, though, the undivided attention on his health when he is already so anxious about it to begin with. Don't they know that he's doing the best he can?

"Does it bother you that I don't know how to do this?" Phil asks. He wonders if he will ever be able to say what he means to the people he loves the most, to ask what is on his mind instead of layering it under something innocuous.

Being with Dan has been helping him with that, he thinks, but something about being around his parents always makes him revert back to a shy, uncertain teenager.

His dad hums thoughtfully and shakes his head. "No, you were never much into this sort of thing."

"And that doesn't... I dunno, disappoint you?"

"I could never be disappointed with you, kid," his dad says, almost incredulous with it. Like this is something Phil should already know. Like he's said it a million times. Phil can't speak for the past twelve years, but he knows damn well that he hadn't heard that enough, growing up.

"I'm just not," says Phil, scuffing at the floor with his socked foot. "Dunno. Not much of a man, I guess. I'm in my thirties, aren't I? I should be a man by now."

"You are a man, Philip," his dad says. "There's no right way to be a man."

It takes a lot to make him cry, but this conversation is getting to Phil in a spot he forgot was sore.

"Yeah," he says instead. "Need the torch?"

His dad lets the topic drop almost gratefully. Phil isn't sure if he's happy for that or not.

The frustration has been climbing up his spine all weekend. It's not exactly fair of him to be getting mildly annoyed by everything they've said, not when they're only trying to help. He takes a few deep breaths - in for four, hold for seven, out for eight, just like Dan taught him - and tries to pull a good mood back around him. For his dad's sake, if nothing else.

Phil has to get out of the house for a bit on his own, despite the chilly winds coming in like the waves and the lack of good cell signal.

He walks the same path he'd gone down with his parents that morning, pulling the fleece jacket tighter around his body. It's one of Dan's, something he'd smuggled into his bag and hoped Dan wouldn't miss.

The view here is unparalleled, really. Phil finds his breath catching several times, and only some of those are from exertion. He takes photos with his phone, because he's still clumsy with most of the controls, but he's figured out this one easily enough.

His phone doesn't have any social media apps on it, which he's not about to try and correct. Dan deleted them for a reason. So Phil opens his texts and sends a couple of the better photos to Dan.

The signal fails. The pictures don't go through. Phil wants to go home.

"This feels familiar," Phil says, grinning at his shoddy laptop camera.

"Does it?" Dan's voice is a bit distorted, his face more pixelated than Phil would like, but he's smiling so wide that Phil can't find it in himself to mind.

"Yeah," Phil says simply.

The sofa isn't very comfortable compared to the bed upstairs, but Phil had figured this would be better to not wake his parents up. He folds one leg under himself to try and find a position that doesn't make him feel hunched over his laptop like he's still a student.

Even through the mediocre quality of the webcam and internet connection, Dan looks good. He's wearing a wide-necked jumper and his curls are still soft and pushed off his face, like he hasn't bothered to do anything with them today. Phil wants to reach through the screen and run his fingers through them.

"Wonder why," Dan says in that teasing way he does when he knows something Phil doesn't.

Some days, that tone gets to Phil. When he's feeling anxious and frustrated with himself about all the things he can't remember, the last thing he needs is that tone.

Today, though, it makes him grin. He fiddles with the wireless earphones he's still getting the hang of and murmurs, "Tell me why."

"We used to do this for hours when I lived with my parents," says Dan. He messes with his curls to make them fall with more purpose, probably looking at himself in the screen instead of at Phil. "For, like, almost the whole first year we knew each other."

"You look fine, you dork," Phil says. He's watching Dan with an absent smile that, when he glimpses it in the corner of his screen, makes his breath catch. He's never seen that look on his own face before, doesn't even know what he'd label it as. Dan huffs a laugh, and Phil turns his attention back to him instead.

The lighting is low in Dan's room - in their room - but Phil can make out the warm colour of his eyes.

"You always think I look fine," says Dan, which doesn't exactly sound like a complaint. He leaves his hair alone, though. "Which is useless, since I know you have no taste."

"Is this about the carpet again?" Phil asks, exasperated.

"I just don't understand why you don't see the value of a good rug anymore," Dan whines. "It took me four years to convince you."

"Hardwood is cold on your feet in the morning and - you know what," says Phil, fighting back a laugh, "I'm not having this conversation again. We can duke it out when it's relevant, we aren't buying a house right now."

Dan grins at him. "I'll win."

Probably. Phil is stubborn, though, and he's not about to take everything Dan says about his changed tastes as fact when he could easily use that to win arguments.

"It's not relevant," Phil repeats. "You know what is relevant? I kind of remember Skyping you."

Dan is still and quiet for so long that Phil thinks he's frozen at first. Then he blinks. "You do?" he asks, voice careful.

"Kind of," Phil says, not wanting to get Dan's hopes up. He pulls a face, scratches at his jaw. "It's hard to explain. I don't remember doing it, I just remember that I have done it. Does that make sense?"

"No," says Dan, blunt as always. He smiles weakly. "Explain it to me?"

It's hard for Dan, Phil knows it is, but he makes such an effort all the time that Phil has, tentatively, attempted to do the same. He's not always comfortable talking about his innermost thoughts, since giving voice to things makes them more real. For Dan, he'll try.

"It's not like a flashback or anything," Phil says slowly. He doesn't want to say the wrong thing, but he also doesn't want to make Dan think he's still holding back. "That's not the way this has worked for me."

"I know," says Dan.

Phil traces shapes on his own knee, wishing he could be touching Dan instead. "It's more like... I just know."

"Right," Dan says, and Phil can hear the way he's holding something back. Disappointment? Excitement? "Kinda like déjà vu?"

"I guess so, except it isn't, like, disorienting. I just saw you on my screen and I was like, yeah, I've done this before." Phil feels like he's explaining this badly, like it's all coming out wrong. "I dunno, babe. I'm sorry it isn't more."

"You're," is all Dan says. He looks offscreen, takes a couple of deep breaths.

Maybe it's the familiarity of this whole thing, or the sound of Dan's shaky breathing in his ears, but Phil has the sudden certainty that he's looking at a Dan who is about to start crying. A Dan who has cried on Skype with him before, Phil knows that, too, somewhere deep in his gut.

"Hey," Phil says softly. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to apologise for," Dan tells him, rather more sharply than Phil thinks it intends to come out. Dan grimaces. "Fuck. Sorry. I'm not - I'm not upset with you, Phil."

"You look upset," says Phil. The physical ache he's been carrying around all weekend has intensified, makes him think he could swim back to Dan if it would shorten the distance quicker. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Dan considers it for a moment. That on its own is a step in the right direction, Dan no longer brushing everything he's feeling off with a joke and a kiss. Phil taps an erratic rhythm against his knee while he waits for Dan to make up his mind. Eventually, he shakes his pretty head. "Not tonight. Can we talk about it when you're home, maybe?"

That's progress. Phil has to remind himself of that every time they make a point to communicate, every time he says or does something that makes Dan freeze up for a moment.

"Of course," Phil says. "Talk to me about hardwood floors some more. You're still wrong, but I'll hear you out."

Dan looks relieved, and Phil doesn't let that get to him. Neither of them are avoiding emotional conversations outright. Phil can remember the way Dan likes his eggs cooked, even though he can't remember learning that. Dan hasn't even eaten eggs in the past couple months, on a vegan kick that Phil doesn't understand, but Phil knows exactly how to cook them to make Dan grin at him across a breakfast bar.

Slow progress is still progress, Dan's therapist says. Phil is inclined to agree with her.

Leaving his parents is bittersweet. Phil always wants to spend more time with them, knows he'll never quite grow out of the momma's boy phase, but they've been getting under his skin all weekend.

Phil does wonder if that's a regular part of being a proper adult, the desire to cling to gained independence, or if it's just him feeling smothered and wistful for Dan.

He gives them tight, lingering hugs anyway, makes them promise to come visit him before Christmas. He'll feel better about that, he thinks. Having Dan around makes it all so much easier that he can't imagine living a life without him, now. He fits into the places where the rest of Phil should be, allows Phil to settle into shape around him.

It's early when Phil gets on the plane, early enough that he gets to watch the sun rise until he's dropped back under the line of clouds that seem to permanently hover over England. The sun still hasn't peeked out by the time Phil unlocks his front door and lets himself in, juggling his bag and keys and wallet and proceeding to drop them all on the floor of the entryway. There aren't any echoing noises from deeper into the flat, so Phil thinks it's safe to assume that Dan is still dead to the world.

Sure enough, he finds Dan spread out in the middle of their bed, his bare back rising and falling steadily with sleep. The blankets are in disarray, half underneath him and half wrapped around his legs.

Phil smiles. It feels like something settles into place inside of him just looking at the expanse of Dan's skin. He undresses to his pants and doesn't bother digging around for something else to wear, not when there's some necessary snuggling to be done. The cool air makes Phil shiver, but only until he's set his glasses aside and crawled into bed, pressing himself along Dan's back with a kiss to his lightly-freckled shoulder.

London is chilly in November, but Dan carries a warmth with him that emanates from his very core, and it drags Phil into sleep easily.

He's home now. He can breathe again.

Phil stirs from hazy dreams when his heat source disappears, and he makes a little whine of a noise to express his deep displeasure. He gets a throaty laugh in response.

"Fucking drama queen," Dan's voice breaks into his half-asleep state. It's soft, just like the kiss that's pressed to Phil's hair. "I'll be right back, I gotta piss."

"Wait," Phil yawns, stretching out his arms in search of Dan. He doesn't want to open his eyes. "Coffee?"

"You little - fuck, fine, yes, I'll make you some fucking coffee. Unbelievable."

Phil must fall back to sleep, because the next time he's coaxed into awareness, it's by the smell of coffee and the feel of a mouth on his jaw.

"Mm," Phil hums, reaching out to blindly pull Dan closer and tilt his head for a kiss.

Dan chuckles, a gust of breath against Phil's face before soft lips find his. Phil runs a hand over Dan's back, sleepy and hesitant, because that's not something he's always allowed to do. This time, Dan makes a pleased sort of noise against Phil's mouth before he pulls back with a low, "Mm, yourself. Good morning."

"Hey," Phil murmurs. He squints up at Dan and grins, loose with the contented feeling of being home. "Missed you, pretty boy."

The laugh he gets in response is more of a honk. Phil is so endeared. "You can't even see me," Dan points out. He's not wrong, but Phil doesn't have to have his glasses on to know how pretty Dan is.

"It's not like I forgot what you look like," Phil says dryly. He lets his hand continue to trace shapes on Dan's bare back, since Dan doesn't seem to mind the contact.

"Maybe I grew a beard."

"Yeah. Because you can totally grow an entire beard overnight."

"Probably couldn't grow a beard if you gave me a month," says Dan. "I missed you, too, stupid."

It feels like Phil has been away for weeks rather than a handful of days. He can't get enough of the bumps and grooves of Dan's back, like he's never touched it before, and his whole being aches to be impossibly closer.

He kisses Dan's temple - at least, he thinks he does, it's a bit of a blur but at least Dan doesn't make a noise as though Phil has accidentally connected with his eyeball - and runs his thumb slowly along the ridges of Dan's spine.

"We don't spend a lot of time apart, do we," says Phil. It isn't a question, really. He knows they don't.

"No," Dan says, simply. "Why should we?"

Phil supposes that there isn't a reason. In the back of his mind there are always niggling fears, worst case scenarios chasing each other around until he's worked himself up, and right now those fears are trying to make themselves known. The codependency of it crawls over Phil's skin, making him itch.

He doesn't want to spend more time away from Dan, that isn't it at all. It just worries him that he doesn't know if he'd even be able to.

The weight of Dan on him is solid, the skin under his fingers so soft and warm, and that helps Phil feel grounded.

"Let me up, baby," says Phil. He needs coffee and maybe some food before he feels fully functional, even though this is his third time waking up this morning. He might have a problem.

Dan huffs - at the pet name or at Phil himself, it's unclear - but flops onto his side next to Phil anyway. He keeps his hand on Phil's thigh through their blanket and gives him a lazy grin. "You're less grumpy today. Happy to be home?"

"You've no idea," Phil says, sitting up against the headboard so he can cradle his mug to his chest and breathe in the aroma. "I love them so much, but it's not the same."

"I've got some idea," Dan says on a yawn. "You bring any cakes home?"

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Phil scoffs. He shoves his glasses unceremoniously onto his face with one hand so he can actually see more than the vague shapes that make up his boyfriend.

Fiancé, he guesses. Technically.

The smile that Dan shoots up at him is sleepy. His eyes are half-lidded and a little red, lashes clumped together by the moisture that wells up every time he yawns. He's just in his pants, like Phil, and he's not self conscious about it in the slightest. Once again, Phil is struck dumb by how beautiful he is.

"What?" Dan asks after a long moment of Phil just looking at him. Hints of dimples are showing around his mouth, like he's holding back a bigger grin.

"Nothing, you're just," says Phil. Adjectives bump against each other at the forefront of his mind, competing to be the most truthful without being ridiculously sappy. He can call Dan pretty or hot without issue, but a flush creeps its way up Phil's neck the moment he wants to say something like 'gorgeous', 'perfect'.

"Just the best thing that's ever happened to you, right?" Dan says, all performative sarcasm.

Yeah, Phil thinks. He doesn't say it. He doesn't think he can.

"Totally," he says instead, dripping his voice in the same irony as Dan's. He refocuses on his coffee, and Dan starts to scroll through his phone.

He leaves his hand on Phil's thigh, though. He's not usually the one initiating contact, always complains jokingly when Phil reaches for him too much, but Phil guesses that Dan has missed him almost as much as Phil has missed Dan.

Phil drinks his coffee and watches Dan's screen scroll through photos of people he doesn't recognise, places he's never been.

The scrolling stops on a face Phil does recognise with a jolt, just long enough for Dan to tap it twice with his thumb and move on. It's so strange to see Anthony Padilla look... old. He's not old, not really - Phil can't remember for sure, but he's fairly certain the Smosh guys are the same age as him - but Phil is so used to seeing him look a specific way. He's got an image in his mind of the way Smosh looks, of the way he looks, and it's like the screens and mirrors are lying to him.

It doesn't help that Phil sees a bit of Dan in the pose, the curly hair, the big sweater. He wonders what came first, wonders which of them looked at the other and saw something they wanted in themselves, or if they even did it consciously. By the time Phil thinks to ask if they know each other or just know of each other, Dan has opened a different application.

Being with Dan is too much, sometimes.

Phil has been very lucky in his life. He knows what it feels like to be loved unconditionally by his parents, his brother, a handful of friends, and how it feels to love them the same. The way that Dan loves him, though, is different. New. Something Phil didn't know could ever be directed at him.

Most days it isn't an issue. Dan loves him, and he's very fond of Dan, and they do all they can to meet each other in the middle of the gaping chasm where a decade used to be.

But there are moments when the itch gets so bad, when Dan's big hands and brown eyes get so intense, that Phil doesn't know how to handle it. Dan loves him so much that he projects it like an aura, enveloping Phil in the gentle warmth he manages to carry with him even when he's shouting obscenities at Phil over a game, and sometimes.

Sometimes, it's overwhelming. When it gets like that, the smallest things can make Phil feel like he's missed a step or five on a staircase he can't see the bottom of. It's not stifling, suffocating, upsetting. It's simply too much.

He doesn't know how to convey that to Dan. How to explain the itch. So he doesn't.

In the days following his return from the Isle, Phil feels it more than he ever has. Something about being apart, even if it was only for three nights, has Dan clinging in a way that Phil hasn't experienced yet. Sure, Dan is cuddly enough, especially when they're curled up together in bed or on the sofa, but this is another level.

Dan has currently plastered himself to Phil's back while he washes the dishes, an arm slung over Phil's shoulder, lips pressed to Phil's jaw, and he's stayed there for nearly fifteen minutes while he chatters on about whatever's on his mind.

It's not the casual brushes of lips and fingers that Phil expects, that they both initiate every day; it's Dan planting his feet and staying in Phil's space like he never wants to leave it again.

That's scary. Never is a scary, overwhelming, too much word.

"Love you," Dan reminds him on his way out of the room, taking the overwhelming warmth of his aura with him. He no longer qualifies the statement with a 'you don't have to say it back'. Phil doesn't know if that's because he wants Phil to say it or because he thinks Phil has probably understood that by now.

The words get choked in Phil's throat the way they do every time. It's reflex, instinct, to say he loves someone when they say it to him. That wouldn't be a fair thing for Phil to slip up with at all.

Phil breathes deeply in the sudden quiet of their big kitchen and tries to calm himself from that missed-step panic.

"What are you doing?"

There's a note to Dan's voice that Phil doesn't recognise, not without turning around to see his face. It's sleepy confusion, mostly, and Phil doesn't think he needs to know what else it is.

"I'm snooping," says Phil. His hands pause in their rifling. "Or organizing, I guess, but snooping makes it sound more fun."

"It's five in the morning," Dan tells him.

Oh. That is a bit startling. Phil doesn't know what time it was when he gave up on sleep and got out of bed, but he's made it through a dresser and a half. He wonders if he's sorting things wrong, if Dan's got a system for the drawers like he does for their hangers.

Phil stares down at his hands, tangled with the loose socks in one of their top drawers. He feels weirdly disconnected from the physical sensation.

"You didn't come to bed," Phil says, the reason behind his earlier restlessness coming back to him.

"No, sorry," says Dan. He doesn't actually sound sorry, but Phil still can't figure out how he does sound. "I got caught up in this thread, I know I've read it before but I, like, forgot enough about it that it still fucked me up? There was this guy and he kept seeing these, I dunno, sticky notes, I fucking guess, in his own writing, and he didn't remember writing them, right, so he -"

"Cool," Phil says, probably too sharp. He isn't sure where that story is going, but he knows that it's hitting a bit too close to home as it is.

There's a beat. "Sorry," Dan says again. This time it seems like he means it.

Phil shrugs. "I'm not upset."

"No, you're not. Will you look at me?"

Honestly, Phil had forgotten about his physical form entirely. He blinks. After a moment, he takes his hands out of the drawer to turn and face Dan.

Dan smiles. He looks exhausted, sitting at the foot of their bed in just an oversized jumper. Probably some pants, as well, but the way his top hangs makes it impossible to tell for sure. His long legs are bare and crossed at the ankles.

"Are you wearing pants?" Phil blurts out, like his thought process is connected directly to his tongue.

He is reminded, ridiculously, of Cordelia Chase, and the way her speech and thoughts mirrored perfectly. Sure, he can't remember the PIN to his own bank card, but he can get a flashback to Earshot like he watched it last week. He wonders if Charisma is happy in 2019.

Phil's thoughts are ping-ponging so much that he almost misses it when Dan laughs and nods, rucking up the front of his jumper to show them off. "Yeah, you fucking pervert, I'm wearing pants."

The sound of Dan's laugh relaxes some of the tension that Phil didn't even realise he was holding in his body, and he gives Dan a tired grin.

"Oh, I'm the pervert?" he teases. He gestures behind himself, indicating the dresser he's half done organizing. "I'm not the one who's got a collection of women's underwear. Unless I am? Am I? You'd tell me if I wore women's underwear, wouldn't you?"

Dan's lips twitch, but he gives Phil a surprisingly stern look. "They're not 'women's underwear'," he says with little air quotes. "They're just underwear."

This seems like one of those things Dan can rant about for hours that Phil doesn't completely understand and has to make discreet Google searches to keep up with, but he's always willing to listen. Or, well, any time but five in the morning, he'd be willing to listen. He's sure Dan can rant about gender roles and normativity when they're both properly awake.

He's curious about this, though. He does his best to make sure that the curiosity is all that comes through, doesn't want to accidentally sound like he's being judgemental when he says, "So they're yours, then."

"Yeah," says Dan, simple.

"Is it a sex thing?" Phil asks, because apparently a distinct lack of sleep makes him tactless. He thinks of Cordelia again.

Dan doesn't seem bothered by the question. He shrugs, pulling idly at the collar of his jumper. "Sometimes. Not always. I dunno, Phil, not everything I own is from the men's section. I just buy things I like and wear them when I want to."

He says it like it isn't a big deal, but Phil isn't stupid. Dan doesn't do anything without overthinking it. Neither of them do, really, although they overthink in different ways - Phil's anxiety is what makes his thoughts race and his palms sweat at any decision he makes, while Dan will sit down in a quiet place and let all his thoughts tumble forward so he can try to sort through them.

It's so easy to picture. Dan in one of those stores Phil is always afraid to touch anything in, flipping through hangers with a bored look on his face. Getting his attention caught by something black and glittery on the opposite wall. Hesitating. Turning to Phil and saying, "Sometimes I wish I was a girl."

Phil realises with a little jolt that it isn't imagination alone. He knows in his gut that the exchange, or something like it, has happened before. He remembers the nervous look on Dan's face all too well.

"It's not weird," Phil says, to the Dan in front of him and the younger Dan in his mind's eye. "I don't fully get it, but that's okay. I shouldn't have said it was weird."

Something flashes across Dan's face, too quick for Phil to decipher.

"I know it isn't," says Dan. "But thanks."

He doesn't think that Dan has always known that. He thinks that there must have been a lot of bravery in the simple action of crossing a store. But it's five in the morning and they're both tired, rough around the edges with it, so Phil holds his tongue.

"In any case, your underwear's been sorted and folded," Phil informs him.

Dan rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Folded, sure. I've seen you try to fold shit that's a hell of a lot easier than some of the pants I have."

"There's just not a lot of fabric to some of them," Phil admits. The material hadn't helped, since Phil doesn't think he's ever touched lace that isn't attached to a tablecloth at his grandparents' house. "I did my best."

"I'm sure you did," says Dan. He dimples up at Phil and reaches his hands out in invitation. The missed-step swoop in Phil's stomach doesn't come, so he just smiles back and steps closer, settles himself comfortably on Dan's bare thighs. "So, I was thinking about when you Skyped me."

It takes Phil a moment to try and figure out Dan's train of thought, see where the statement has come from, but he decides that it's useless. Dan could have been waiting to bring it up for days now and a tired Phil with no filter was exactly the opener he needed.

"Yeah," Phil says, tracing the bags under Dan's sleepy eyes with his thumbs. "What about it?"

"I don't think I'm being very fair to you," says Dan. "When you remember things, I mean. It's a good thing, and I was happy, I just."

He pauses, bites his lower lip.

"You just wish it was more," Phil finishes for him. A small pang hits him in the stomach when Dan grimaces and nods. "That's okay, you know. You're allowed to wish I was... him, again."

"You're not separate people," Dan says again, quiet.

"I kind of am," says Phil. "I hope you know that I - I want to be him. For you, and for me, because he seems like he's got a really good handle on this life thing and I've got no bloody idea what I'm doing, but I can't just. I can't make myself him. I can't even, like, guarantee he'll ever fully be here again."

Dan's inhale is shaky. He runs his hands up and down Phil's thighs in a show of comfort, although Phil can't tell which of them it's for.

"That's scary," Dan murmurs. His eyes are so big and warm and vulnerable, Phil almost feels like he shouldn't be seeing him like this. "That's really fucking scary, Phil."

"It's scary for me, too," Phil reminds him. He's got a bit of a tightness in his chest, anxious from the lack of sleep and too-serious conversation, and he tucks his face into Dan's neck to break from the eye contact. "I don't want this to be happening, you know? I kind of hate it. You're so - you're really good, Dan, you like. Deserve to have him back."

The room is quiet for a little while. It's dark in the safety of Dan's neck, and only the feeling of Dan's hands on his thighs keeps Phil grounded to reality.

Eventually, Dan says, "Thanks for saying that, but also, like. We've gotten through a lot together. I'm sure we can handle this if it's permanent. It's just one of those things that... we aren't going to know what we're doing right away."

You're home for me, Phil thinks. You're home, and that's overwhelming sometimes.

"You can tell me what we've all gotten through tomorrow," is what Phil says. He pulls back and presses his lips to Dan's cheek, because he can. "I think we should get some sleep."

"Alright, stupid," Dan hums, squeezing Phil's thighs and dimpling up at him. He's so beautiful that it makes something ache in Phil's chest, some weird combination of pride and want. "You'll have to get off me, first."

"Okay," says Phil.

It takes him another few minutes to actually leave Dan's lap. Luckily, Dan doesn't seem to mind.

Dan still doesn't think that having social media on his phone is a good idea for Phil, too easy to get overwhelmed by, but he's happy to sit back against Phil's chest while they watch tv and scroll through his own feeds. He shows Phil a lot of things that Phil doesn't understand, and most of it is just perplexing.

Some of it is viscerally upsetting, but Phil knows that Dan doesn't mean for it to be. Advances in technology are only cool to hear about until the wheel of worst case scenarios in Phil's head starts to spin. Maybe self-driving cars and robots that talk back are neat to think about in theory, but the reality of them makes Phil so, so anxious.

He hears Dan murmur, "God, she's getting so big."

So he looks. Then, suddenly, he feels like he is going to pass out. All the blood in his body rushes to his head and his eyes start to water, because. What the hell.

The girl in the photo isn't one Phil recognises. She looks younger than twelve - he isn't good at guessing ages, he'd place her between six and nine - so he guesses that's not very surprising. What's making his head spin is the man with her.

"Is that Ian?" Phil asks, blinking a bunch like it'll change the fact right in front of him.

Dan locks his phone immediately and winces, turning in Phil's arms to hold him close. "Yeah, that's Ian and his daughter. Are you okay? I should have warned you, I didn't even think."

"Ian has a daughter?" Repeating it doesn't make it sound any more true. Phil shakes his head. "I just watched him throw up in a girl's purse. Like, he just gave himself a concussion trying to climb out of a ground floor window. He doesn't have a daughter."

"Are you okay?" Dan asks again, softer.

No, Phil isn't okay. The reality is, of course Ian has a daughter. All of Phil's friends and family have lived a life that he no longer has access to. Every memory he has of Ian is so much clearer than the memories Ian must have of him, clouded by time and nostalgia. He wonders if Ian remembers the concussion and then thinks, don't be silly, how could he forget? How could he forget anything about Phil? How could Phil have forgotten anything about him?

"No," he says out loud, because Dan deserves to know the truth. "No, I fucking hate this. I hate it, Dan."

The laugh that's startled out of Dan is wobbly and wet, and Phil really wishes he wouldn't cry. If Dan cries again, Phil will desperately want to comfort him, and he wants this selfish moment of anger for himself.

Dan's voice isn't shaky when he speaks, though, his arms tightening around Phil and their legs all tangled. "Yeah, it really sucks, huh? She's a good kid, if that helps. She likes you."

"I don't know if that helps," Phil says, "but thank you for saying it."

He wonders what Ian thinks of Dan. How does his best friend feel about Phil settling down like this? Was it surprising to him or did it seem organic if you'd lived it?

It doesn't feel organic to Phil. He's getting there, he is, because Dan is wonderful and he wants to be around him all the time, but. Dan feels like home in a way that Phil doesn't think he's earned.

Slow progress is still progress, Phil reminds himself. He knows how to cook Dan eggs he doesn't even eat anymore, knows what Dan looks like when he's about to start crying on Skype, knows a thousand things that he's learned ever since he woke up on the kitchen floor.

It's progress. He has to keep telling himself that or he's going to lose his entire mind.

Dan's voice, quiet and empathetc, breaks into Phil's spiralling frustration. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No, Phil doesn't want to talk about it. He isn't okay and he doesn't want to make a big deal out of it in case everything comes tumbling out at once.

The itch isn't there right this second, but Phil knows how easily it comes on. He wonders if there's a way to get rid of it without Dan ever knowing its existence, wonders how his brother and parents and probably Ian are all so chill about this relationship when Phil himself feels like it's all-consuming.

He can't exactly get frustrated with Dan for not talking about his feelings if he just turns around and does the same thing, though. So.

"No," he says, "but I will anyway."

Despite his worries, Phil's words don't come tumbling out the moment he gives them permission. Instead he has to force them, stammering and avoiding Dan's big brown eyes as he talks about the way it feels to be thrust into a life he doesn't remember making, a life he doesn't feel like he deserves. He talks about the itch under his skin that he'd thought would go away if he just embraced the reality of being in a committed relationship and how it hasn't, really, and sometimes it feels even worse than it had when he first woke up.

Dan lets him talk. He's good at that, Phil thinks. He doesn't try to interject in any of the pauses where Phil forces himself to say things that have been on his mind for almost two entire months.

It isn't until Phil apologises that Dan's large hand is covering his own and squeezing.

"What on earth are you sorry for, stupid?" Dan murmurs. "I'm glad you told me you feel this way, because, like, it isn't the first time."

Phil blinks. He meets Dan's gaze, his heart pounding a bit at the sheer amount of affection behind those eyes. He turns his hand over to link their fingers together, holds tight like Dan is an anchor. "What?"

"I told you," Dan says with a sad little smile. "I know everything about you. Do you really think you never panicked when we first moved in together and a dozen times after that? Do you think I didn't? You're not the only one who was in love for the first time, Lester. I know it's been a few years, but I remember how it feels to be thrown in the deep end of feelings you can't get a fucking grip on."

The sheer relief at being understood washes over Phil, and he laughs.

"Ten years," he says, the same awe as always washing over him as he does. Right in this moment, it doesn't scare him the way it has been.

Dan's smile is still sad, but his eyes are twinkling. "Ten years. There's no part of your bullshit I can't handle by now."

"You're so annoying," Phil says. He knows that Dan can hear the emotion behind it, the same way Phil has figured out that being called stupid means 'I love you', but voicing his other feelings has made him brave and stupid with it. "I think - no, I don't think, I'm pretty fucking sure - that I, like, love you."

He's not sure what he expects. His heart is pounding and he waits for Dan to beam at him or cry or something else ridiculous, but Dan just gives him a little shrug.

"I know," he says, grinning. "I know you." He doesn't say it back this time, but that's okay.

Phil knows him, too.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #dnp fic #words words words #i'm going to be late to work sjkghjks

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sluttyprincessinarizona · 4 years

Text

Holy shit, alright.

So, first off, hi. I’ve been having a tough few days because of various reasons that I may or may not get into in this post. I’ve been bottling up all of my feelings for too long and writing things down has always been easier for me than talking about them. Basically, this is me spilling a lot of my secrets so I can get them out of my head. I’m sorry if this isn’t what you expected or wanted from me, please skip this if you’re not okay with a post like this.

TW//: Talk of anxiety and depression, mental and emotion manipulation(?), mentions of death and suicide, and just dark shit in general. Proceed with a lot of caution.

Hello. My name is Malachi. That’s not my birth name but it is the name I choose to go by. I am a non-binary African American person that is trying their absolute best in the life I was given. Admittedly, I’m not fairing very well but I continue to try everyday.

I come from a fairly large family. 8 siblings in total, 1 on my moms side and 7 on my dads. My mom and dad never married, they broke up when I was five years old, and when my dad moved out, I stayed living with my mom. My mom is bipolar and manic depressant and my older sister, my moms daughter, was a spoiled brat until I was born. From very early on, my sister would constantly tell me that I ruined her life, that she wished I was never born, that she hated me, etc. Unfortunately for me, my mom wanted me and my sister to get along so I was always around her. She would read books to me and have me around all the time. Because of this, I’m pretty sure anyway, I grew up to be very gifted. I entered kindergarten a year early, and all of my school life felt easy. I was never challenged. Even the gifted classes I was out in were hardly anything to me. Now, I know this sounds like I’m bragging, but I take no pride in these words or my talents. I’ll tell you why later.

Growing up was surprisingly difficult for me. My mom was struggling to support both of us so we moved house a lot. We moved into our grandma’s house at one point. That was when it was the worst. My sister would constantly tell on me, but when I turned the tables on her, she’d beg me not to. She’d promise that she’d ever tell on me again, and then turned around and threw away said promise as soon as I let it go. I was the “problematic” child. My sister berated me constantly, telling me that I was bad at dancing and singing, which is still one of my passions to this day. It stuck with me. Everything does.

Fastforward to middle school. I had spent the last few years of my life with a less than agreeable sister and a difficult to approach mother. I’ll get into my father’s deal in a little bit. Elementary school hadn't been good either. I was at a higher level than lost of people, so I would occupy my free time with books. PE and outside activities never intrigued me as much as most kids, and so I was then deemed the class outcast all the way until about 7th grade. Up until 5th, I trusted others way too easily. Someone could walk up to me, tell me their name and say they wanted to be friends and within a week I'd be telling them all my secrets and family troubles. It was stupid really, but no one taught me any different. I was betrayed a lot, and everyone in our grade knew things about me that I'm embarrassed to admit. It was heartbreaking to 5th grade me. Why was everyone so mean?

I was always more of a tomboy, even as a child. The girls were too "girly" for me and the boys didn't converse with girls so I was, again, alone.

By the time I got to 6th grade, I had already adapted a system. Go to school, do well, read in your free time, go home. No friends, no acquaintances, nothing. It was how I kept my heart safe. And it worked for a while. Luckily, I moved schools when I came up with the system, so no one was too keen on approaching me in the first place. Then, 7th grade came around. And holy god, was it horrible. For some reason, I made a friend. Now, she was nice. Very nice. We bonded over Undertale, she was great. We're still friends to this day. But I kept her at arms length, cause I had just broken the system. That wasn't apart of the plan. Even worse, I made two more friends. And worse than that, I developed my first ever crush on someone. All of my plans were failing, my walls were crumbling. But when these walls fell, my heart grew weaker still, cause having friends isn't as great as it should be. Especially in middle school.

Our small group was riddled with mental illnesses, and we'd joke about wanting to die at least twice a day. It was how we coped, even though none of us made any effort to get better. It wasn't the best, but 8th grade was somehow worse.

Our group split right down the middle. Half of the group wanted nothing to do with the other half. And I was stuck in the middle. I liked everyone, they were all my friends. How could I possibly choose between them?

And then, as if things couldn't get worse, one of my closest friends in that group called me out. Apparently, I had become so dependent on them, on her, that I was becoming "too outgoing" and annoying, and she stopped responding to me. I had let her inside my walls and she still hurt me deeper than anyone else. I apologized profusely. I had gotten so used to not being a bother that losing her trust was one of my worst fears. It scarred me. I spent days sulking, just wanting to properly apologize to her. I wanted to hear from her, I needed to. Eventually she forgave me, but the damage had been done. That was when I had come up with a new idea. Another system. I didn't execute it, but the idea sprouted in the back of my mind.

8th grade was the year of my first panic attack. It was dumb, really. I woke up, got ready for school, and realized there was an assignment I forgot to do that was due later that day. I had had a perfect record. My homework was never late, and it terrified me to no end to think that my streak would end like that. I sat against the wall of my bedroom, covering my mouth and hoping that I was crying quietly, so I wouldn't wake my dad. No one to help me, no one to ground me. I was spiraling for too long. The only thing that snapped me out of it was myself. I had to go to school or I'd be late, that was how I got myself out of that darkness. Pathetic, I know.

High school was a different battle field in and of itself. Sophomore, Junior and Senior year were pretty good, so I'll only talk about Freshman year.

I was very scared of high school. All the middle school teachers said high school teachers were ruthless, mean and impatient. They kicked people out of class, out of the whole school. School had been easy but high school was different. The mere mention of it made me nervous. Oh yeah, I haven't mentioned it before, but I have pretty bad anxiety. It's primarily social anxiety, but it gets bad at the worst possible times. I think I might have depression but I'm too scared to bring it up with my therapist, so that'll probably stay unsolved.

Freshman year wasn't very bad. It wasn't worse than 8th grade at least. What really got me was the workload. Self discipline, time management, all the mature people things that I had to learn. It made my anxiety skyrocket. I would be finishing assignments during lunch, mere hours before they were due. I was a rightful mess, on all accounts.

I had a big fallout with my dad, and that just made all of my problems worse. I'll get into that another time, seeing as this post is already too long.

Finishing high school was a breeze compared to earlier years. I made a small group of friends, many of which are onto bigger adventures in life. I haven't started college yet, but I haven't talked about what it is that I really wanted to talk about. The thing that's really been on my mind.

I'm nobody. I'm not just a nobody. I'm nobody. I honestly don't know who I am. My entire life, I had forfeited finding myself in favor of catering to others. I relinquished my personal freedom to make others life easier. I listened to everything my parents told me to do. No question, no complaints. I bend and broke myself to make my sister happy. I gave her so much of myself that I didn't have any left for me, yet she's still not happy with me. My friends don't know who I am. My mind is constantly thinking, I'm constantly drowning in dark thoughts and harmful words but they don't know. I hide it from them, I hid everything from them. I told them not to worry about it. And eventually, they did. It hurt. It stung. But it was my fault entirely.

My dad called me a robot once. I followed orders with feeling or hesitance. He was right. My constant thought process is all of my responsibilities. All of the things I need to do for someone else. Taking a break is impossible. Mt family needs me to function properly so they can live freely and without regret. I can't do that.

I can't eat what I want without making my mom angry in some way. I can't say or do or buy or receive anything without getting into an argument with my sister about how I'm somehow the spoiled one. Hell, I take a nap for too long and my mom gets upset at me. My dad is another ball game all on his own, so I won't talk about him right now.

What I'm trying to say it that my life isn't mine. My life is spent caring for others. Listening to other people over myself.

I'm horrible at taking compliments. I brush them off, deny them, pretty much anything other than saying thank you. It's not that I'm not grateful. I'm just tired of them. I've been showered with praise all my life, but it's bittersweet when you're taken advantage of every day. Taken for granted endlessly. They start to fade together.

Generic, everyday praise infuriates me to the highest level. Don't you dare say that cookie cutter bullshit to me. You think I haven't heard "oh you're so smart" before?? You think I haven't heard "you're beautiful" before??? I understand that you're just trying to be nice, but fuck off with that run of the mill fuckery.

Compliment me

How about you say, thank you for trying so hard for us?

Or, I see you helping out. I appreciate it.

Or, god forbid, you cab relax for once, I can take care of it.

Because god knows that I need a fucking break sometimes!

Oh, take a day off? Unless you want to come over here and handle my 101 responsibilities for this day alone, I suggest you shut that shit up right now.

Telling to take it easy doesn't fix the fucking problem.

One thing I know I do have are some major anger issues. That's not easily solved. None of my problems are.

At this point, I feel like I am my problems. Without my anxiety and my anger, who am I?

Who would I be?

Would I be better? Worse? Who would I have become?

I don't want help because help would change me. Help would get rid of me.

Whoever that me may be.

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ifeveristoday · 5 years

Text

team Slow Burn/Burn it All Down

“Real monsters don’t announce themselves or present opportunities. Not here. They enter your head, your heart, tear at you from within.” -- Angel, Hellmouth #2

Are we talking about the demons underground or the demon walking around with Angel’s face?

Hellmouth leans heavy on foreshadowing and having unspoken/underlining meanings that differ from the actual words on the page. It continues using elements from Egyptian and Roman/Greek mythos but the main draw of this issue - and I’m assuming the rest of the series, is the reluctant partnership of Buffy and Angel. I don’t agree with the criticism that taking Buffy and Angel away from their respective apocalypses ruins the flow of the overall arcs. It’s a vast story to tell and the pace of the reboots (which is something I have criticized) makes it difficult to include in the main storylines without sacrificing important character development. There are just so many characters, especially in Sunnydale. Jordie’s writing excels at the character and emotional beats rather than plots, and while we have had some great strides in Willow, Xander and Jenny’s personal journeys, there remains some distance from the namesake characters, which I feel like it was intentional to get to the place that Hellmouth occupies.

Love it or hate it, the Buffy and Angel relationship is a huge part of both of their stories and character developments and we’ve had inklings of how Buffy is going to change/possibly wreck Angel’s life in Angel, but he’s remained a shadowy figure in Buffy’s story. Hellmouth changes all of that while retaining some of the original canon’s flaws/trademarks but also poking gentle fun at them.

Spoilers from Hellmouth #2 below the cut.

Buffy and Angel are slightly different from their canon selves - Angel is independent of Buffy’s journey at the very beginning and already has his purpose set in Los Angeles. Buffy is a newly minted Slayer, living with her secret for a whole three weeks before wacky Slayer hijinks puts her in the path of Willow and Xander. Their initial meeting/relationship is reminiscent of the very early episodes of Season 1 Buffy - with a reasonable amount of wariness on Buffy’s part and Angel’s dry/slightly cocky attitude with a 2019 update of their anxieties. There’s also a flip in roles as Angel asks Buffy how she’s feeling and what she wants to do in the future at the start. It’s just the feeling of a connection with no romantic overtones.

The comic recognizes the fucked-upness of Buffy being a child and fighting the forces of evil and sympathizing with her via the character of Jenny. While there is an obligatory nod to Buffy’s desire to be normal, it also makes a point of isolating her from the Scoobies and her frustration at knowing how to be the best Slayer she can be. Giles tells her that he’s to direct her, but not tell her explicitly what she has to do sounds an awful like parents preparing their children for adulthood. There is no handbook. While Buffy is welcomed into Willow and Xander’s circle (and that’s another flip - it is Willow who reaches out to Buffy first and invites her into being social), they’re very much a unit while Buffy sort of floats between their friendship. But I feel due to them being so young, it’s easy to claim best friendship, because - the intensity of feelings and hormones.

This makes Buffy’s character kind of harder to read, and less sunshiney than her OG counterpart. But it’s a shared facade - TV Buffy just hid it better underneath girliness and bouncy hair, while Boom! Buffy is focused, for better or worse to her duty. This is a Buffy that hasn’t quit Slaying before, who gets slightly conflicted guidance from her Watcher and who needs Willow and Xander more than they possibly need her to be a connection to being sixteen. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with.

Hellmouth gives Buffy the spotlight and also drops her into an immediate partnership with Angel. It very pointedly is not a romance - they both get on each others nerves actually, and it inspires A+ bantering while revealing the most of each character so far. Buffy’s venting to Angel (Buffy #8/Hellmouth #1) implies that she’s worried about her friendships and failure to connect, that she’d rather tell a complete stranger this than confide in her friends/Watcher.

Angel listening and not judging shows an immediate empathy for her - and his actions during Hellmouth show a more vulnerable/less closed off Angel. He doesn’t occupy the same caretaker vibe he has with Fred and Gunn that he does with Buffy, namely because Buffy refuses it. She calls him out on trying to be the mysterious weight of the world Loner who takes on all of the responsibilities.

Angel quickly realizes he just can’t be That Guy with Buffy, and it makes his character hilariously resigned/looser in response. He warns her about dangers in the Hellmouth but accepts Buffy’s way is different from his, but that doesn’t make it wrong. He’s willing to admit he might have been wrong about demons being upfront when the slithery shapeshifter demon confronts them - and Buffy’s snarky response “Cool, cool. Won’t rub that in.” lightens the tense moment.

Notably, Angel is the one that gets injured/dragged by the demons while Buffy runs to save him. The fighting sequences are highlighted and Buffy’s scenes, in particular, are very smooth and highlights her Slayer grace. They fight beautifully together and despite their prickly banter, feel a shared responsibility to each other’s well being. Their separate confrontations with the shapeshifter shows their fears - Buffy ‘abandoning’ her family and friends and failing to protect them, Angel seeing the ghosts of the people he’s failed to save. Buffy reacts strongly to how her family and friends need her, while Angel angrily tells the shifter to stay out of his head and that it doesn’t know anything about him. Circling back to Buffy saying she doesn’t know what she wants, the Ominous voice implies Angel doesn’t really know what he’s doing and who he is.

Ah, vague accusations of something evil and upsetting, how I haven’t missed you.

After Angel demands to know who’s blood is needed for the further escalation of Evil Plan, and the Voice doesn’t reply, he immediately realizes Buffy is in danger and runs to find her.

Buffy’s still fighting the shifter and it mentions she could put an end to her family and friends’ suffering with her sacrifice - namely, that her blood will save the world.

While Buffy logically knows that the shifter isn’t her mom (because of course, the shifter would take on the form of Joyce), this emotional blackmail breaks her out of the illusion and she kicks it’s ass. Almost punching out Angel in the process.

Angel is less emotional about his ordeal and Buffy lets him have it again, telling him that it's unfair that she’s the only one being vulnerable - “I opened up because we need to work together, and you haven’t said a thing.”

Instead of being defensive and defaulting to Sir Mopes a Lot - Angel sincerely apologizes and tells her that his fears were also centered around his friends and him not being able to save them in time.

And it’s Buffy’s turn to reassure him/pass on wisdom - she realizes that the Hellmouth wants to separate them to make them weaker and that Angel deserves a little more empathy from her.

THEY’RE COMMUNICATING THEIR FRUSTRATIONS AND CONCERNS WITH EACH OTHER, Y’ALL.

Angel does have a moment of saying, “Silent suffering is more my cup of tea,” and Buffy’s quick response of “And how’s that working for you?” showcase their differences/similarities nicely. Angel despite making friends doesn’t tell them what he’s thinking because he’s used to being alone, Buffy with her very loud opinions isolates herself (un)intentionally because she’s new to Slaying and being a teenager at the same time. They can’t talk to the people who care for them--- but they can talk to each other.

When they face hurdles, they take turns reassuring/pointing out the Obvious Evil, and then a tiny moment - Angel adds onto Buffy’s observation of not getting surrounded by the demon horde by saying, “Just like Thermopylae.”

As with each issue of the Boom!verse, when names I don’t recognize I obviously google them - and Thermopylae is a reference to both the battle of Thermopylae (think the 300 comic and uh, history) and the “Hot Gates,” and is the cavernous entrance to Hades.

Is my theory/wish that there’s going to be Persephone/Hades parallels and Eurydice/Orpheus vibes in this story going to play out? God, I hope so.

Anyway, back to the moment - when they inevitably get surrounded by the demon hordes, Buffy remarks, “Well, there goes thermometer.”

The. Classic. Buffy. Malapropism.

My heart.

Angel gets slashed in the fight, and Buffy worries about him, but there’s a bigger problem -

narrated by the Voice - “Are you sure everything is as it seems? You’ve been wrong before.”

“Blood is spilled...vessels are filled...every pretender killed.”

Shot to Drusilla as Prometheus in chains, spouting some of the worst “Dru-esque” dialogue I’ve read. Sorry Jordie, this is up there with the clunky faux Whedonisms of the early issues.

So Dru isn’t the major Big Bad, but rather the unseen Voice, who we, of course, don’t know.

Is she ultimate sacrifice, the vessel (after all she is of Angel’s bloodline) and oh, Angel Still Hasn’t Told Buffy He’s A Vampire which...

Boo.

All of the voice overs hint that the confession when it happens is going to cause Buffy Big Mad - after all, Angel knows more about her than she does of him, AGAIN.

The art and coloring is stunning as ever in this issue - Carlini really knows how to draw action sequences, and the varying light/color schemes really make the sense of Buffy and Angel descending into the Hellmouth feel vivid and real.

tl;dr I loved this issue and each issue the stakes definitely seem higher. The bantering and a slow reveal of their personalities are also excellent. The foreshadowing/double meanings of the dialogues.

The stuff I don’t like - the Dru dialog at the end, Angel being secretive about his Vampire self.

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