#He got them for c-ptsd and chronic pain
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Hunter with a service dog!
#He got them for c-ptsd and chronic pain#it was suggested by both Camila and his therapist#the dog had to get additional training to help with adapting#to the demon realm#my art#digital art#art#hunter toh#hunter the owl house#the owl house#hunter the golden guard#the owl house hunter#toh#hunter noceda#hunter deamonne#hunter headcanons#toh hunter#hunter clawthorne
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Recently a relative asked me why I'm 'suddenly' always sick and that I was so healthy as a kid.
I was never a healthy kid. I was always in pain, but nobody believed me. I complained I had moments of dizziness, momentary visual blurriness and blindness, moments where I couldn't balance myself, and intense migraines so bad I fantasized popping a hole in my skull hoping that would get whatever was hurting me out of my head. I had days where it was just brain fog, but I was too young to know the word 'brain fog'. I'd have days where I was in so much pain I'd vomit.
But I got scolded for 'faking it' for attention or to get out of school. I got punished for 'being lazy'. So little by little, I learned complaining about constant pain that made me suicidal would make things worse for me. People punished me for telling them I was hurting, so I shut up.
Even when I became quiet about it, there were things I couldn't hide and my family rug-swept them: I passed out at school a few times from intense pain. I had multiple intestinal issues my family told me were normal, that 'it happens to everyone', telling me that 'Your dad had that happen so many times' while chuckling like it was funny. Every time, they waited for me to 'stop being dramatic' until I started screaming and writhing on the floor and they finally got me to the ER, scolding me the whole time for 'not saying anything sooner'.
During one of those visits, a doctor found a large tumor I was choking on. He found it by accident when he was putting a tube down my throat. I'd been having trouble breathing, but my family accused me of lying, and I'd started to think I was imagining it. Upon discovering the tumor, my mom's reaction was to scold me for giving myself a tumor.
After the tumor removal, the doctor had told her something seemed odd, and he talked with my mom for a bit but I can't remember what they said. We never went back to this doctor. When I asked my mom about it later, she told me the doctor was stupid and he had no idea what he was doing. (It was in my 20s when I went to check on my intestinal issue that the doctor told me he suspected I had gastroparesis, which he later confirmed it was.)
I struggled with classes because of the combination of undiagnosed medical issues, undiagnosed ADHD, undiagnosed dyscalculia, and having panic attacks (later got diagnosed with c-PTSD). My mom threatened to marry me off or kick me out of the house for almost failing math. I was sworn at, told horrific things that still stick with me (and the rest of the family blamed me for 'being lazy' and making her angry with me). I was a kid and couldn't understand why existing hurt, why, if it was so 'normal' to be in consent agony, everyone else seemed to not be struggling like me. I couldn't wrap my head around why everything that seemed so easy for everyone else was almost impossible for me.
It wasn't until an online friend asked me if I had some sort of disease because I was constantly in the hospital. I told her, "No, not really. What's the average number of times someone's in the hospital?" She said, "Renny, I've never once been to the ER." She was older than me. It was then that it clicked for me. I'd been so convinced that all of this was normal, that I was behind everyone else in life because I must be just a weak person because I was so behind even when I gave it my hardest.
I wasn't behind because I was weak. I was behind because I was never given the assistance I needed.
As soon as I became an adult and financially independent, I started seeking medical help. Got diagnosed with severe chronic migraines and other illnesses typically comorbid with chronic migraines and gastroparesis. (There are some issues I can't get medical help for in my country, so those will have to wait). I'm on medications now. Because of gastroparesis, pills didn't work for me too well, so a friend taught me how to use autoinjectors. I have friends who actually help me, give me advice, drive me to my appointments, and just be there for me emotionally.
Being medicated has made being alive so much more bearable. I can actually live my life now. Yes, I still have days where I'm in pain (not just migraines, but my other conditions, most of which don't have any treatments to manage them) but it's such a massive improvement from where I was before. I'm happier. I go to therapy. I found people I can talk about my pains and conditions freely to without being told I'm faking it or lazy. I don't work myself to the bone anymore; I shouldn't be giving my 100% to a job that refuses me accommodations when I'd need most of that to manage my health.
I'm back to complaining about pain because, before my family trained me to shut up about it, I was doing it right from the beginning. I'm supposed to complain about pain. Just because I can talk about it freely now, doesn't mean I was never sick before. Just because I'm on medications now, doesn't mean I didn't need them years ago.
I'm happier now as an adult. You just don't like that I'm visible about my illnesses now. It makes you uncomfortable that I self-administer injections, that I talk about my health the way that I want to. The thought of chronic illness makes you uncomfortable; you liked it better when I was quiet. You'd rather I don't find diagnoses for my illnesses, because, in your logic, if I don't go get the diagnosis then I'm not sick.
I was never a healthy kid. You just don't want to admit you went along with the rest of the family to abuse a disabled kid for being disabled.
#chronic migraine#chronic pain#chronic illness#gastroparesis#child abuse#dear diary#cw: ableism#disability
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your post about grunts and disabilities aids got me thinking, so here's a dump of some disability related stuff I hc because you're cool and there NEEDS to be more disability rep in this fandom
Hank: selectively mute, uses sign language to communicate. HOH and missing an eye. autism and ASPD.
Sanford: also HOH due to his job and visually impaired after 12. gets a white cane after he gets his eyes fucked up. OCD.
Deimos: uses crutches on occasion because something fucking up during his cloning process caused him to be pretty frail and weak, at least at first. also keeps stim toys on him. auDHD.
Doc: definitely a cane user. has a severe mouth injury from his time at the AAHW, so he can really only drink liquids. his mask has a thing that automatically amplifies his voice since the injury makes it hard to talk. I also like to imagine either he or Hank have a prosthetic leg. SZPD.
Victor: I can't think of any disability aids he'd have, but he definitely has PPD (as in paranoid personality disorder, not postpartum depression,) and DID.
all of them would realistically have some kind of C-PTSD and chronic pain / chronic fatigue due to the lives they live
anon i literately owe you my life omg....these are all so good! thank you personally for saying deimos would use crutches (<- professional projector onto deimos-er) also him having audhd makes so much sense to me personally, ive always thought he has adhd (like me omg)
on the subject of doc using a cane, may i offer one of krinkels' stream sketches: hank with a cane?
#personally i think doc can eat but he avoids very hot/very cold foods#hank i think is very specific and particular about what food he eats and it took a lot of time with him and doc to figure out his diet#ALSO SANFORD WITH OCD IS MY FAVORITE HEADCANON EVER!!! i personally insert it into my art a lot!! but also mostly my writing lol#asks.fla
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Some General Marauders Era Headcanons
NOT canon compliant (I don’t care about jk shitface’s canon lol)
Regulus Black (the main character as far as I’m concerned)
~ French, I mean cmon the Black family motto is toujours pur for gods sake. He absolutely speaks French. Other than that, they can be traced to German (Walburga’s side) and English heritage.
~cis bi boy (sapiosexual?)
~ c-ptsd, depression
~ messy curly medium-length hair, long nimble fingers, one of those people with a few lovely moles in choice locations, slutty waist, angular jaw, kind of set in eyes, not tall but a bit taller than Sirius
~ most dogs freak him out (lol oof)
Sirius Black
~ french (& English, German) ofc.
~ amab queer, omnisexual mlm
~c-ptsd, adhd
~ wavy long black hair, also a slutty waist, not very tall, squinty eyes, latently a little muscular
~ big believer in a leather jacket
James Potter
~ I stan desi Potter. But also love the idea of Euphemia being Greek per her name so Jamie boy is part Greek and part Pakistani on Fleamont’s side. He only speaks English but has some terms and things from both Greek and Hindi.
~ cis bi guy
~adhd
~ needs glasses ofc, I imagine he’s super nearsighted.
~ super messy hair, lean and muscular, medium tall
~ red converse wearer
Remus Lupin
~ Welsh, English, and Portuguese. He speaks only English.
~ amab, queer, demisexual?
~ anxiety
~ chronic pain from wolf injuries
~ scarred all over, light brown hair, tan, he’s the tallest, skinny but not lacking muscle, limps sometimes and often needs to stretch his sore muscles, hairy!!
~ always wearing a sweater
Peter Pettigrew
~ English & German. Speaks English.
~ cis, bi
~ anxiety, definitely does self-soothing movements
~ fat !! no skinny wormtail in this house, wavy blonde hair, the cutest cheeks known to man, callouses on his hands and no one can figure out why
~ asthma
~ loves naps
Pandora Rosier
~ Another family who absolutely must be fluent French speakers. So I think they have some Afro-Caribbean on one side and the other is very much originally French. Speaks English and French.
~ cis fem, pansexual, demiromantic
~ autistic
~ hair is super light blonde and looooong in dreads, light blue eyes, brown skin, quite tall and thin, all her features are super delicate and lithe, she’s kind of otherworldly tbh but she certainly doesn’t act so she’s got quite the mad scientist competitive streak
~ amazing at charms
Evan Rosier
~ Afro-Caribbean, French, English. Speaks English and French.
~ he/they, omnisexual (and by that I mean he fucks everyone ha-hey)
~ super light blonde hair either cropped or in a protective style, brown skin, light brown eyes, braces, dead average build, but still suave af don’t be mistaken everyone wants this kid, not hairy
Lily Evans
~ English and Scottish, speaks English.
~ cis gal, questioning but likely demisexual
~ fat!!, straight-ish red hair ofc, freckles, green eyes, cute small chubby hands, radiant smile
Barty Crouch Jr.
~ English, speaks English and all curse words in every language he could get people to teach them in.
~ queer amab bisexual
~ I won’t begin to try to dissect the workings of Barry’s brain but depression could be a start
~ eidetic memory
~ needs reading glasses? but like most of the time they’re not on him or they’re broken. so he just like uses his crazy big brain to just remember stuff or else he mostly never reads outside of studying times
~ brown hair but whenever he gets the chance he buzzes or dyes it green for fun, stick and pokes and self done piercings, tall but not Remus tall, lean muscular, hairy ass legs
Dorcas Meadowes
~ Ethiopian and English. Speaks English.
~ cis girl, sapphic
~ dark skin, black hair often in long braids, dark eyes, athletic curvy build, long fingers
~ literally prodigy herbologist, also amazing at potions and divination
Marlene McKinnon
~ Filipino!!!!!!!!!!!! speaks English and Filipino (maybe some of another regional language of the Philippines).
~ cis girl, sapphic
~ adhd, depression
~ lactose intolerant
~ short queen, freckles, dyed blonde but def experiments with color and cut, usually straight or a little wavy, muscular but it doesn’t really show she just seems kinda thin, some stick and pokes, several ear piercings
~ wears red cowboy boots, studded belts, low rise, cut up t shirts, hats
Mary Macdonald
~ Brazilian on one side and South African & English on the other. Speaks English and Portuguese.
~ cis girl, bisexual
~ ehler’s danlos syndrome
~ wears her dark hair natural curly, curvy, average height, belly button pierced, huge gorgeous smile, adorable button nose
lol
Severus Snape
~English and Polish. Speaks English.
~ cis, hetero
~ depression, anxiety
~ straight long black hair, pale, Remus tall, fairly average weight, dark eyes, strong nose
~wears mostly black
~ amazing at potions
#marauders#regulus black#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#lily evans#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#mary macdonald#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#pandora rosier#severus snape#dorcas meadowes#myreggie
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🧸🏳️🌈♿📈 and uhh "how do their family/friends react to it" once I forgot the emoji for- for kenny and uhh maybe Craig and also maybe twerk? (That is if u hc either of them as disabled In any way)
I hc literally everyone as disabled, so you're getting answers for all 3 >:3
Kenny:
♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?
Besides his chronic pain i wont stop talking about, he has AuDHD, depression, MaDD and C-PTSD ✨
His C-PTSD symtoms didn't show much until adulthood (late 20s-early 30s), because that was when his brain processed the environment as safe and stopped being in permanent survival mode. However, the symptoms of everything else have showed since he was Really young, his MaDD was at its worst when he was around 12 (iykyk) and got better since he left south park, mainly after he started therapy (took him long enough smh)
📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?
The first time one of his deaths still hurt after the fact was on s3 e1, after Kelly revived him. However, he didn't give it much thought, thinking it was just what getting killed by lightning was like. Then it was kind of like a roulette whether it'd hurt or not, but even when it did it was incredibly easy to ignore - until his teens, when he died so often (more on purpose than not) it quickened the effects a lot
🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days? (i think you meant this one)
Yeah, he does! His friends are generally supportive, even cartman after he gets over his assholery. His siblings too :) stuart however is an asshole, and even though kenny went NC with carol i feel like she'd be quite supportive idk. And about how they help on bad days, cuddles from butters mostly do the trick XD if butters isn't there though, more often than not will someone at the very least pay attention to him, either helping out by getting him stuff (food etc) or doing something to keep him entertained (talking, board games, depends on how hes feeling tbh)
🧸- Do they have a comfort item?
He used to have his orange parka, but since karen inherited he doesn't have it anymore, so i would say he doesn't really have any comfort items? Unless we count the mimikyu plush, but idk if that would really qualify as a comfort item much, other than making him think of butters whenever he sees it :)
🏳️🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability
-He diagnosed craig's autism way before any professional did, but he thought craig was aware of it so he didn't say anything 💀 (he has the strongest autismdar ever) -Most of his daydreams are similar to the stuff he thought in the cheesing episode in some way or another -He used to deal with flashbacks by going on normally with his life, to the point nobody but his friends could ever tell he was going through The Horrors - however as his PTSD worsened he couldn't do that anymore
Craig:
♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?
Autism, it's painfully obvious yet he wasn't diagnosed till he was 15 😭
📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?
From kenny's pov, ever since craig was born 💀 but most people in his life didn't see it as disabling until it began messing with his studies in his teens
🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days?
YUP!!! His parents didn't think it was autism at first, "no everyone does that", surprise all the Tucker's are autistic XD They were a bit confused at first, not knowing what to do, but they were still super supportive about it :) Tricia was as much of a dick to him as usual so nothing new on her side lmao, and his friends were cool about it as soon as they learnt about his diagnosis (cue teasing from kenny and jimmy for thinking he was neurotipical smh, nah craig sry but you stuck with the nds 💀). Also, TWEEK, boy is so loud and that makes him feel so guilty because of how it overwhelms craig ;w; he was the first person who knew craig got diagnosed besides his family, and he did his best to accomodate him as much as he needed :3
🧸- Do they have a comfort item?
Not comforting autism-wise but comforting regardless, the shit ton of (accurate to constellations) glow in the dark stars in his bedroom, he cannot sleep without them. He also has a tiny alien plush keychain he found at Tweek's house and Tweek insisted he should keep it (neither of them know where it came from 💀), so that's another thing :)
🏳️🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability
-After the diagnosis he refused to leave his room for weeks because he didn't know how to cope with it, and nobody besides his family and tweek were allowed to come in during that period - in the end though, with their help he accepted it -Something I've mentioned a couple times already but is hilarious to me: he didn't talk until he was four (how did it take him so long to get diagnosed), and his first words were a "cállate hijoputa" directed at cartman 😭
Tweek:
♿️ - What is their disability/disabilities? What are the symptoms that they show?
Tourettes, anxiety, schizophrenia and PPD - most of these were at the very least influenced by the whole meth in coffee thing
📈 - What age was their disability formed, or became apparent, at?
He gave symptoms of all these since he was really young, besides PPD, which only became obvious almost as soon as he left his house
🦮 - Do they have supportive friends and/or family? How do they help on bad days?
Family? Haha ok next question--- About his friends though, they do their best to help him with it. Most times during the worst days he can only stand Craig's company, who will listen to him and try to help him feel safe, however normally he's ok enough to be with others just fine. He gets accomodations at college and later at work too, like being allowed to stay home some days or to leave early
🧸- Do they have a comfort item?
YES YES YES !!! Storytime, after craig and tweek dated for three years, craig's anniversary gift was a green stuffed stegosaurus (since tweek was fixated on dinosaurs back then), which tweek named peanuts :) Peanuts became the way tweek would deal with any anxiety attacks, but he tugged at him so hard he broke - however, laura patched peanuts up for tweek (after craig quite literally begged her to, she would've done it anyway but he did anyway) Then, when they moved out, peanuts disappeared :( until the tuckers found him under craig's bed, who knows how he ended up there XD SO tweek's comfort item is the oldest most used up cutest little stego ever :3 (also does having a room full of spiders count as a comfort item? idk but he does cuz he loves spiders, craig despises that room with his whole soul poor boy hates spiders so much 😭)
🏳️🌈 - A random headcanon about them and their disability
Went NC with his parents as soon as he could!!! He also stopped drinking their coffee in his early teens, but because he (and everyone tbh) thought what messed up his health was the caffeine not the meth - he didn't find out about the fact he was being drugged until he was told the "secret family recipe" when he turned 18 (and, understandably, he was PISSED)
#is it obvious i infodumped a bit too much with kenny?#this took me so long rip#yall can always ask for clarification/extra stuff on these btw :)#or uh#ask more qs idk#just talk to me 😔✨#south park#south park au#south park hcs#south park fandom#south park headcanons#south park fanfiction#kenny mccormick#craig tucker#tweek tweak#sp bunny#creek sp#ask game#starlight chronicles
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🪦Consider this blog a TW in & of itself🪦
🩸My coining blog is @fckindumbboy-coins Requests are always open!!!🩸
🫀This will be a mix of RQ & para stuff! Its my safe space! I will like & reblog what I choose!🫀
🪦Block/ ignore dont report, I'm just trying to find safe community & without that, so many of us are in danger!🪦
🩸If you arent harming anyone unwilling to be harmed, do it up, bby; pro-consent🩸
🦷 Im Jynx
🔪 The body is adult; Agefluid, multiage- mainly nepedage and traumatot, but I also sometimes linger around the body's age
🦷 Agender, transmasc, boycunt, periboy, offboy, bordergender
🔪 Polyromantic, hyperromantic
🦷 Polysensual, polarsensual, hypersensual [unless touch-repulsed due to fatigue, low energy, sensory overload, etc.]
🔪 Greyace, hypersexual
🦷 Ductuaffectis, Alteraffectis
🔪 It/he/pup/puppy/clown/honk/rot/ick/demon/rat; I may also use plural pronouns on occasion
🦷 Married, poly
🔪 Ask me anything about anything!
🪦My tags:
fckindumbboy - anything thats mine
boybarx - anytime I comment/post/talk about anything/share my opinions
shøwøff - my pictures
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boyIDs- my hoard/IDs or terms I like (reblogs only- not my OGs)🪦
🫀On sys: I'm [Jynx] the current host of a DID system~ Pls keep in mind that, due to the nature of plurality, I may post things or reblog things that I dont typically post, agree with, or that I forget later on. Some alters MAY make themselves known, they may not, thats up to them to decide not me.🫀
🪦Paras & Kinks: LOTS! Obsessed with everything abuse, gore, pain, blood, cannibalism, & death! 3/3, get over it, youre not the thought police. I sexualize & extort my own trauma & mental illness~ Theres wwwwaaaaayyyyyyy more! Consang🪦
🫀SickSickSick (cisIDs): DID, BPD, DPDR, schizoaffective bipolar type, OCD, agoraphobia, C-PTSD, substance use disorder [recovering & hating every second], OSFED-AN/BP, GAD/ panic disorder, PNES, mild TBI, CI
We got the 'tism
ICT survivor
I have so much trauma, & always happy to share & talk about it [for anyone!] (I'm cisharmed, cisgroomed, cisabused, cisICTsurvivor, cistortured, cisSA/CSA, cisraped.. etc.)
Chronically ill & physically disabled!🫀
🪦I AM a radqueer! Get outta here if you cant deal with that! Im super duper inclusive & believe everyone has a right to be themselves (even if I may not agree with them!) I have absolutely no room in my life, my heart, or my safe space for hate, drama, or discourse!!! Im also a [REDACTED]queer! I value privacy & non-disclosure of stances or other information, I think everyone has a right to discretion & safety within the community & elsewhere. My business is no one's business unless I say so- no one's business is my business unless they say so. All information, conversation, etc. with me is strictly confidential. I dont believe in call outs or other forms of non-consenual information disclosure. 🪦
🫀Identities: Transclownspecies, puppykin, trauma-born demon, irl yandere, transHoH/transDeaf, real vampire [hybrid- sang & psi], DemiDead, DemiRot, Traumatot, permapuppy, permadissociated, permalockdown, permasick, devotabled, translabrat, ratkin 🫀
🪦MUDs: Unhealthy Relation-Victim Disorder, Glitching Mind Disorder, Plural Dysphoric Disorder, Imminent Death Disorder, Temporal Perception Distortion Syndrome🪦
🩸I BLOCK FREELY🩸
Anons: ⚙️, ☀️, bitey, 🐶🎉, 🕯, :3, 🍇
#fckindumbboy#boybarx#silliest-fckindumbboy#pro rq 🌈🍓#rqc🌈🍓#rq 🌈🍓#rq safe#rq please interact#radqueer please interact#boycoins#Papa♡#shøwøff#boyIDs
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ROTTMNT Headcanons:
i decided that i wanted to infodump about my headcanons for the turtles specifically :> due to the fact that I am a fictive, this is influenced a little bit by our fictives/exomemories. but YEAH i just wanted to ramble a lot and you should go stream rottmnt and support the team bcuz it deserves all the love in the world yeah ok lets go
Leo
extremely transmasc. like this guy is so transmasc
uses he/him pronouns exclusively but would probably accept being misgendered purely for comedic effect (only by his family or friends tho)
says he's bisexual but he prefers to call himself queer
tell me this man does not have ADHD you can't
acts superior to hide his debilitating inferiority complex
struggles with insomnia. has developed ways of managing his sleeping problems, but they still win out every now and then
Post-Movie
deals with PTSD-related dissociation. it's pretty damn bad
the WORST internalized ableism you've ever seen
loses the arm anyway. my headcanon is that krang prime got ahold of it as his siblings were pulling him out of the portal
the worst patient you've ever seen. he is constantly plotting escape
almost constantly wearing a knee brace. he's supposed to use crutches but often tries to get away with not doing so. has a wheelchair for bad pain days but he refuses to use it most of the time bc he's stubborn
insomnia gets way worse, partly due to night terrors and partly due to chronic pain. sleep does not come easy to this guy
Raph
bigender; she/him pronouns with a preference for fem terms
likes who she likes; doesn't feel the need to put a label to his sexuality
she is autistic bc I said so
PLURAL!! she has OSDD-1a and has a system of 3 or 4 other alters not including herself (Mind Raph is kind of up in the air for me, but the others are Little Red, Angel, and Savage)
dislikes swearing, in part because Little Red picks up on it and will not stop once he starts /hj
Post-Movie
blind in right eye bc of the krang
most of his complications are PTSD related; nightmares, dissociation, etc
was always a bit mindful of his size compared to his surroundings/family, but after the movie, it becomes a lot more prevalent. she is terrified of hurting her loved ones again
nerve damage in one arm from opening the portal; causes pain/numbness/tingling and minor muscle spasms. Donnie made compression gloves to help with this
Mikey
genderfluid; shifts between she/he/they pronouns
aroace
ADHD
LOVES body art. will always have something new painted onto his arms or plastron
since he can't really reach his carapace to paint on it, he convinces his siblings to let him paint on theirs. will often be found in Donnie's lab painting their carapace while they work
loves hanging out in Donnie's lab while they work
Post-Movie
suffered the worst in terms of damage to his arms
deals w chronic fatigue and brain fog after opening the portal
wears compression gloves from Donnie almost 24/7. has to be reminded to take them off
Donnie
nonbinary/autigender. uses they/them pronouns primarily, but also uses he/him and it/its on occasion. loves telling people that they "identify as a threat"
THE disaster bisexual
WEAPONIZED AUTISM
doesn't get enough sleep not because they're an insomniac, but because they hyperfixate on projects for days at a time and will not sleep until either a) they're done working, b) one of their siblings forces them to go to bed, or c) they simply crash on their desk out of exhaustion
for a self-proclaimed genius, they're not very good at taking care of themselves
has nonverbal episodes and uses sign language to communicate during them. however, he and Leo both learned morse code as well so they could have their own "secret language" that only they understood
the worst eyesight. like it's god awful. they wear custom-made contacts when they're outside the lair, but they also have glasses for days when they can't be bothered
has bitten every member of his family at least once
has eaten the family goldfish before (not Piebald)
has claw-like scars across their carapace from the shredder. change my mind
Post-Movie
scarring on carapace from Technodrome and being ripped from the control panel. it looks worse than it is
has trouble eating due to sensory issues
suffers from tactile hallucinations. has to have something on their shell at all times
has seizures resulting from the Technodrome connecting with his central nervous system
that's all i have rn. there's so many headcanons that I didn't include here just cus it'd be a mess but pls ask me questions cus I love talking about these guys. and ofc ask questions about other characters as well, not just the turtles!! i wanna do more art featuring some of our headcanons as well so look forward to that >:))
#michaela.txt#she/her#rottmnt headcanons#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise leo#rottmnt leo#rise raph#rottmnt raph#rise mikey#rottmnt mikey#rise donnie#rottmnt donnie#unpause rottmnt#unpause rise of the tmnt#unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#save rottmnt#save rise of the tmnt#save rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#post rottmnt movie#tw ed#tw internalized ableism#tw self neglect#plural raph#autistic raph#autistic donnie
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Vent under the cut
What I learned from being in a mental hospital for three hours
Yesterday, I called the suicide hotline.
It’s been a long year for me, a long life, really. I’m only 19, but it’s just been a lot.
I’ve struggled with depression for over 10 years, anxiety for over 6, and C-PTSD for over 5. Over the past two years, I’ve developed chronic pain that makes it difficult for me to do the things I love like dancing and going outside.
Yesterday, I just felt so hopeless. My medical bills are adding up every day — my primary care physician recommended I see a psychiatrist (whom I can’t get in with until June), my astigmatism contacts cost over $600/year, I should be seeing a physical therapist per my prescription, and my antidepressants are being exchanged for a different type that will require an EKG (heart monitoring check-up) if I am to start them.
I feel like I haven’t been able to live up the the standards I’ve been given, or even the ones I want to achieve myself. I’ve been in a depressive episode for two weeks now.
So I called the hotline.
Here’s what I learned from the experience.
1) When the responder said he would send someone to come talk to me, three police and three paramedics showed up.
They were all wearing disposable gloves, and they didn’t sit down when I asked them to. They were all standing around me, and I felt cornered.
2) When they came to get me, they sent an ambulance.
It wasn’t scary — I’ve been in an ambulance before, and the medic was nice and she talked to me on the way. They took my blood pressure and pulse continuously on the ride and put seatbelts over my body.
3) Because I didn’t struggle or fight at all (I called willingly and I went willingly), they let me walk into the ER instead of being rolled in on the gurney. I appreciated that because it gave me a sense of control.
4) The mental health rooms in the ER actually looked like those in a horror movie.
This was the most surprising part.
The walls were beige and peeling, there was a blue cot in the middle of the room, and there was a security camera and a mirror in two of the corners. There was no handle on the door, only a lock, which I could use to open it, but I didn’t know I was able to until I left at the end.
They told me to put on scrubs and honestly, when I saw the grippy socks, I broke down sobbing (again). They weren’t even real socks lol, they didn’t have a heel, just grips on either side of the sock. They weren’t comfortable either.
After I got dressed in the scrubs, they opened the door again, but it took a while, and I was scared. I didn’t want to be alone, and they left me in there for at least ten minutes.
I don’t think anyone was actively watching the security cameras, since it took a while for them to come in after I was dressed. (I didn’t take off my underclothes, and I have no qualms with my own nudity, so it didn’t bother me too much.) They could have just been busy — it looked like a high-traffic night. But that doesn’t make it much better.
5) You aren’t allowed to have any personal items at all. At all.
I came in with the bare minimum because I didn’t know what to expect. But when they asked me to put my clothes in a bag, I asked if I could keep my sweatshirt because it’s my comfort item. They said no.
Honestly, I can’t fathom why I can’t have a sweatshirt with me to comfort me, especially since they didn’t provide anything to do after asking me a bunch of questions.
The guy who took my blood (they also collected my urine, both for drug testing purposes) told me he’d asked the administration to provide edible chalk for the residents to draw on the walls.
I have ADHD, so those three hours were THE worst. No chalk for me. I made a fortune teller out of a tissue. XD
6) The nurses misgendered me even after I corrected them.
This is a big reason why I won’t be going back to that specific hospital. I didn’t want to go somewhere that wasn’t connected with the behavioral health service I was already in contact with, but they don’t have ER care so that wasn’t an option.
The nurses also repeatedly used my legal name even though I told them my preferred name and a couple of them wrote it down on the forms.
I can safely say that this is one of The worst things you can do to a transgender person in a mental health crisis.
7) They fed me.
I…. Did not expect that at all. It was very much like a high school lunch, but it was good enough, and it helped improve my mood. They gave me Sprite instead of water, which was probably good for my blood sugar, but considering that I had been crying for the past three hours, it wasn’t exactly the choice I would have made if I were them.
8) As an adult, the hospital didn’t call anyone.
However, since I called the hotline number associated with the service that already had my information and emergency contact, that service did call my emergency contact.
9) Even through everything, my parents still made the 2 1/2 hour drive down to come support me.
I remember the first time I told my mom that I wanted to die, she spanked me. She had said that she raised me better than that, that she raised me to value my life. So when the nurse handed me the phone, I was terrified.
After all the medical bills, the stress, the trouble that I had caused my parents…. I don’t know what I expected, but there wasn’t a hint of anger in my mom’s voice.
And my dad, who always gets cagey when I try to talk to him about my mental and physical health, made the drive as well. He wanted to stay with me while I was hospitalized.
In the end, I was only there for three hours, so my dad went home instead of driving the last hour to see me, but I will see him tomorrow when the family comes to see my concert.
10) Despite everything, I am loved, and you are too.
I’ve been contacted by three different mental health services today. I called my mom this morning because I said I would. My roommate came to pick me up from the hospital even though I hadn’t been a good friend to her in my depression. One of my close friends contacted me this morning to ask to see me.
Hospitalization sucks. It costs money, it costs time and energy, and it feels like it isn’t worth it. But after last night, I think I finally realize how much effort has been put into helping me keep living.
Despite feeling like I’m a burden, like I’ve never done anything good for anyone, like I’m not worth the worry… everyone still came to help me.
I’m not alone. And you’re not either. Even if you think you have no friends or family there for you, there will always be someone in your corner.
You are worth it. You are loved. Seeking help is the strongest and most powerful thing you can do.
You are not weak. You are resourceful and resilient. You will get through this. You will.
#vent#mental health recovery#self harm recovery#suicidal ideation#crisis hotline#mental health#mental health awareness#you are loved#mental hospital#mental institution#mental illness#what i learned#you are not alone#you are worth it#you are strong#you will get through this
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oh shit if im gonna be talking to people I should have an intro
HEY WELCOME TO MY CUCKHOUSE it was meant to say fuckhouse but cuckhouse is funnier so I'm leaving that in
im just a silly guy im just a little birthday boy and I'LL BE YOUR NEW BEST FRIEND! If you put up with my bullshit its fuckin ride or die babey. she/he/it/they, technically any pronouns but I'm cognitively disabled and gotta look up the fancier ones every time I try to conjugate them. Like I'll absolutely use them for other people but if you say "faer's got the stuff" I'm gonna be like "who is this Faer person". Fae pronouns are super fucking cool though. I wanna use fae pronouns. What was I doing again
NPD/ADHD/DID/C-PTSD/chronic pain/cane user/paranoid schizophrenic. Sup. I bite sometimes but I prommy I microwave myself for 2 minutes on high every time 💜 Don't. idk what I was gonna say here but don't do the thing I hate. Okay? Okie dokie!
I'm not the host but I've been here for 15 years. I'm not a fictive, I'm just a kinnie. I'm taken but poly, but if you wanna be my lover you gotta be a level 5 or higher friend and have experienced at least 2 breakdowns and our gatekeeper. Wow this is long! And sucks. I should make a different one. eventually
I promise I'm just super lame, really
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also last post i said my body was "likely-POTS-raddled" and like. that is very true BUT ALSO I WANNA VENT A LIL REAL QUICK
i get why i probably have undiagnosed POTS
i can't be outside in the sun/anywhere warm or hot for long without feeling nauseous and sick. meaning i might as well be agoraphobic with how little i go outside since i live in Southern California where our seasons are "hot" and "hotter" with a day or two of rain dispersed randomly. despite feeling like this, i only sweat sometimes, AND no matter what i do my circulation is so poor that i feel icy to the touch even though i feel like i am boiling. as a result, i have the a/c on always (to the point my mama has said i "live in a meat locker" lmao rip), tend to do errands late afternoon or evening, and prefer hanging out with friends into the night. a very frequent symptom of POTS is the body have an inability to regulate its internal temperature, resulting in heat making a lot of POTS patients feel nauseous. poor circulation is also common in POTS patients
while packing, i fainted about four times even though i was eating well-enough and whatnot, simply because i was bending up and down so often due (1) to these boxes i had to fill up and move about and, (2) instead of the usual "i sit for hours" stuff i do (due to chronic leg pain making walking/standing painful), i was taking breaks by sitting for a bit and then getting up. like i started to actually feel dizzy getting up/down even when i wasnt fainting (yet), like i could FEEL it almost happen. and when it would happen, it wasnt "oh, light black dots surrounding my vision with somewhat jelly-legs because i stood up too fast" that id get once in a while for my whole life (i forget if thats bc of low blood-sugat or low blood-pressure but still) but it was proper FULL BLACKNESS and my knees buckling all because i slowly stood up and took a step forward. i had to grab onto things to keep from hitting my head on the floor and got very lucky i didnt lose consciousness >> be unable to grab something and protect my head, bc i was risking getting a concussion from how i was Not Falling Safely (i never learned to fall safely, unfortunately). though a majority of POTS patients dont faint, it is a key-note symptom of the condition and usually happens when the person is going from sitting to standing and whatnot as their body disregulates and overracts to the movement
my medical practioners have gone "huh" and taken my heart-rate twice or three times bc it was "way too high". like. sometimes its been "a normal level of high, lots of people get a faster heart-rate bc going to the doctor makes them nervous" and thats my "normal" with them. but lately theyve been going "...okay let's do that again bc all youve done is walk over and sit down, i get youre severley anxious/have PTSD/have medical trauma but c'mon". apparently, it's common for POTS patients' heart-rate to disregulate and treat standing and walking over somewhere as rigorous exercise, which could explain my "way too high heart-rate"
and other symptoms (my chronic migraines, shakiness, chronic fatigue, brain fog, chronic memory loss, and so many more) and even masked-symptoms (i used to have a lot of shortness of breath so then i got REALLY GOOD at breath control very young to mitigate the issue, like to the point that singers in my life have complimented me on it and said its impressive (i cant sing well tho alas, its in my bucket list to take classes and develop the skill). but i still have trouble breathing after exertion of any kind, but i always have this memory of one P.E. teacher in my head forcing me to take a step back to regulate my breathing back, bc he once told us "Don't you ever stop breathing or hold it in or do shallow breaths when doing somrthing hard. Shit could kill you. Do you know how many old people die on the toliet because they held their breath as they tried to take a shit? Do you want that to be how you die? Your pants down, failing to take a shit? Breathe. Long and deep. Force it to happen. Don't you ever hold it in." lmao thanks, teach)
like
i gET IT. POTS IS LIKELY ONE OF MY (MANY) CONDITIONS
but also im not allowed to have POTS
because the only reason i already knew what POTS was when my friends started going "Hey. Hey, maybe you should look into POTS? Like, maybe ask your doctor about it?" (which she said i couldn't have it bc i dont faint (which i found out is untrue) and we have since discovered ACTUALLY I DO FAINT, i just dont bend up/down often and i also tend to stay seated for hours on end once i do sit) is because of tiktok. like. my fyp put me on POTS Tiktok and i stayed there for a few weeks bc a lot of POTS Tiktok is usually these women showing how their partner cares for them, that love and romance is possible while disabled, that their POTS didnt ruin their date but just meant the pair of them had to sit down on the floor for a while while their boyfriend helped raise their feet. very cute shit, it helped like a soothing balm on my internalized ableism ass' "nobody could ever wanna date me bc im sickly" heart. but yeah. so i was in that hub for several weeks and learned a lot of things about it via osmosis. but so many of these videos featured women fainting so i was like "lol not me" bc i hadnt started packing to move >> bent up/down a lot >> fainted several times yet. but yeah no i (jokingly) refuse to have POTS tho because then that shit means TIKTOK DIAGNOSED ME FIRST. ILLEGAL. NOT ALLOWED TO HAPPEN. NO. UNCONSTITUTIONAL BEHAVIOR. THAT ALGORITHM IS NOT ALLOWED TO HAVE DIAGNOSED ME FIRST, FUCK NO LMAO
#shwarmi#me#diary dump#i will never shut up about the comedy of how likely it is tiktok diagnosed me first. bc its p fucking likely i have POTS in all seriousness
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my father asked me, mockingly, if I genuinely believed there is good in this world.
I thought of the world he put me through. I thought of my childhood. I thought of the first time I’d experienced fear at his hand and every time after that. I thought of my janky heart and my surgery. I thought of the words “chronic illness.” I thought of “severe depression” and “C-PTSD”. I thought of the dreams I had to give up. I thought of the friends I’d grown apart from. I thought of the loved ones I mourn, how it comes in waves.
But then I thought of a nine year old me in the souvenir shop who smashed two snowglobes together and panicked at how my dad would react. I thought of the woman who told me that it was okay, that I didn’t have to cry. She gave me a sparkly pin that said “Dreams Come True”.
I thought of my friends coming together to make me a quilt with my name embroidered onto it, that they gave to me the night before my heart surgery when I was 17.
I thought of the nurse in the ER who stayed an extra two hours to make sure I got into a room because she knew I was in a lot of pain and that my condition was low-priority.
I thought of my Chinese friends who are teaching me Mandarin in exchange for me teaching them more English. I thought of the deaf strangers I chatted with in what little conversational ASL I knew, who invited me to sit with them and introduce me to their friends. I thought of these “barriers” like language that aren’t really barriers at all, because we’re all people who carry the capacity to learn about each other’s lives and worlds and cultures and possess the ability to grow and to change.
I thought about my house leader who sat with me on the floor after I’d passed out during a flare-up, how I’d frustratedly gone off because I was upset, and I thought I was done letting my health upset me. She listened, and then she told me that I don’t have to be okay with it, that it’s okay to be angry and frustrated and sad.
I thought of the mentor who sat with me while I cried, who asked, very gently, “What was your friend’s name?”
I thought of small-talk with strangers. I thought of the doctor who liked my anime keychain. I thought of a girl I used to nanny saying that she wished I were her sister so I never had to leave. I thought of my brothers building a blanket fort over me after I fell asleep on the couch during a migraine. I thought of my house leader leaving everything but junkmail in our mailbox because she knew I liked to get it. I remembered the first time someone took my depression seriously.
I thought of new dreams--smaller, but no less valuable than the ones that came before.
my father couldn’t believe it when I told him I did believe there is good in this world, that I believe people are fundamentally good. he called it “selective memory” and he called it naïve. in the same breath he told me that I needed him, that we would “always be family” and that I couldn’t stop him from being my father. in a physical blood-related sense that is true.
but me? if there’s one thing my health issues have taught me, it’s that blood can be transfused. the kindness I’ve experienced, the people I’ve loved, these moments that bled into me and shaped me in ways I couldn’t live without.
I am the byproduct of everyone I’ve ever loved, everyone who’s ever loved me and the ways that they changed me.
Samwise Gamgee was right. there is good in this world, and it is worth fighting for.
#cloud rambles#storytime#tw implied abuse#tw health issues#ok to reblog#personal#been in my head a lot just had to write this stuff down#<3 it gets better and it's worth it#I promise
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Hi can I just ask for some Ghetsis positivity because I’m sick of everyone around me slandering him
Sorry this is a little late but YES. YES YOU CAN. Big post incoming.
Listen. People hate Ghetsis for completely valid reasons. But people like him, even relate to him, for completely valid reasons too. And I'm sick of people shitting all over Ghetsis and people who like him all the time, even when it's completely uncalled for. I'm sick of having to be "humble" and apologize for liking Ghetsis when introducing myself to people, lest they think I kick puppies and throw babies off cliffs for fun or something. Sick of scrolling his tag and seeing people calling him horrible things or, even worse, targeting his disabilities (physical and mental). Sick of people legitimately claiming he's homophobic, transphobic, even racist just because they don't like him. You do see how that's harmful to people in those groups who like him right. Furthermore, I have the type of RSD where if someone doesn't like a character I like I feel hurt myself. So you can imagine how hellish it is out there. I can't imagine how bad it is for systems with Ghetsis introjects. So for all the completely normal people bearing the curse of simply enjoying a character:
Ghetsis likers! You're valid!
Ghetsis is a very complex, layered character! There's lots to like about him! He's pretty, he's funny, he's tragic, he's a depressed middle aged man.... The list goes on! There's also many valid reasons to relate to him! Ghetsis is implied to have several mental illnesses/disorders/etc that aren't often seen, especially not in a Pokemon game. He's paranoid, he has PTSD, NPD, body dysmorphia, he even shows autistic+adhd traits. He's also a cane user and is popularly interpreted as being an amputee/prosthetic user and having chronic pain from the injuries on his eye/arm/leg/etc. Although him being a villain doesn't do much for "good representation," it's okay for you to see yourself in him! I relate to him for his paranoia, PTSD, and autistic/adhd traits, and that's okay! And some may ask "But N is autistic and likely has PTSD too, why not relate to him instead?" Some may relate to him too! You're allowed to like both of them! Ghetsis and N likers aren't mortal enemies, we're not that different! But not everyone can just choose which characters they attach to. And some may relate to Ghetsis more for a variety of reasons. Ghetsis has a slower, more rough process of healing that may appeal more to some people. You're not obligated to relate to one character over another because the first one isn't a "good guy."
Even if you don't particularly relate to him, you can enjoy him just for the sake of liking him! Some reasons I just think he's a fun character:
His silly "mya-ha-ha-ha!" laugh!!!
The fact that he tries to look intimidating and scary only to call the player in USUM "tiny intruder"
Gee N, your dad is gnc AF!
This picture.
"That blasted Colress! How dare he put his personal intellectual curiosity before our ultimate mission of conquering Unova!" *proceeds to continue spoiling Colress rotten and not doing a single thing to stop him from putting off his work*
The fact that he does so much to make himself seem emotionless but is still clearly very emotional. There's lots of things that confuse and scare him!
His passion! His love for Unovan history and public speaking! (even if he's not the best at delivering them without pacing around and stuttering and trailing off...) (#autism)
His terrible fashion sense. He looks like he fell through a window and got caught on the tapestry. His unexplained love for eye motifs. Me too.
The sheer fact he's such a layered character. There's a lot about Ghetsis that's never directly stated in the games, and much to be picked up from subtle implications. His history as a descendant of fhe Ancient King, his several traumatic life experiences (two separate pokemon attacks, and of course the "memory that has continued to haunt [him]," etc.
His incredibly silly dynamic with Colress. According to pokespe and the RR episode, they've known each other for years, much longer than one would think initially. Trying not to steer too much into antigrav territory, their friendship is unique and funny. They're best friends. They threaten to feed each other to Kyurem daily. As long as they don't get caught, they plan on conquering Unova together. Colress annoys Ghetsis on purpose and Ghetsis responds with ranting about him in private but still raising his paycheck. Chaos duo.
This post is already so long, and I could say more, but to top it off I want to say:
Ghetsis likers who hate N and N likers who hate Ghetsis are the weakest link. As I said earlier, we can enjoy both! Ghetsis enjoyers and N-joyers, we have a lot in common! We both love a very clearly autistic guy with lots of trauma and pretty long hair! It's not a stretch to assume most of us have some parental issues we're coping with by attaching to them! Furthermore, you don't have to "avenge" N by violently hatimg Ghetsis. N still loves his dad, and even if he doesn't have to, he still wants Ghetsis to heal and get better (Cue to... Everything he says to Ghetsis, and even his line when teamed up with him in Pokemas: "I still have hope for you, Ghetsis..."). If he saw the things some of you say about his dad, he'd be horrified. I promise you, saying you want to kick out Ghetsis' cane and take out his other eye just makes you ableist, not a soldier fighting for N's honor. People who like either character aren't at war with each other! I love my N-joyer friends! We can coexist.... Harmonia enjoyers holding hands and singing in a circle...
That's about it! Sorry I'm so passionate about this, I've just seen a ton of hate on Ghetsis lately and I want to combat it. By the way, feel free to send me an ask about any of the stuff I mentioned here!
Please don't interact with this post if you're going to say some mean shit about Ghetsis/his fans or say "he's not actually autistic/disabled etc" "I hate him but..." "You still shouldn't like him because xyz". Please just let this be a happy space for us!!!!
#ask#ableism mention#pokemon#pkmn#pokemon black and white#pokemon bw#pokemon bw2#pokemon black and white 2#team plasma#ghetsis#n harmonia
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My Mike Afton Headcanons :)
Aromantic asexual, interested in a qpr
Autistic (I’m probably going to make a separate post just for this)
Genderfluid, he/they/she/xe
Deaf or close to it. I’ve yet to figure out if it should be just the natural progression of his hearing or something that happened
His mom was Mexican
Warm brown skin tone (yknow, like how colors can warm or cool)
They have their mom’s wild dark brown hair, and it shows once he takes care of it (and isn’t that a thematic statement and a half)
Curly dark brown hair, grows it to just above shoulder length
Having it pulled back all the time gives them a headache, but they won’t leave it loose if they feel they’re in danger
Complete heterochromia, their right eye is blue and their left is brown
(This was mostly because I couldn’t decide between giving them brown eyes or blue, and now I’m attached)
5′5″ (let Mike be short, it’s what they deserve)
Other Headcanons
Since they have trouble hearing and work in a place where they have to rely on hearing to warn them of danger, they have issues going without aids
Gruffly gentle with people younger than them, but prone to hostility with people older
Will fight as soon as he thinks he’s being threatened
On bad days he panics at everything he thinks could be perceived as a mistake
Loves to people watch (unless they’re having a bad day where they compare themself to their dad) enjoys watching life just bustling around them, it makes them feel more human
Hates being treated like she’s stupid or worthless
AUTHORITY ISSUES BABY
In an ideal world, xe would be a paramedic or artist :)
Touch starved and touch repulsed
Loves rain, it’s xeir favorite smell too
The ocean is also something she loves
Sunset colors are her favorite
Loves painting especially mural-like pieces
Has trouble making friends and connecting with people, but sometimes finds people that just click
Has been a disappointment all his life, and when he grew up he learned to wear it like a badge of pride. There’s still a wound beneath that though, and it likes to show up on bad days and around parental figures.
Chronic pain, body issues
Once he learns to stand up for himself, he also figures out how to stand up for others
Dry sense of humor
Their wrist getting grabbed is a trigger. If it happens unexpectedly they will fight them off, or panic if that doesn’t work.
Introverted
Gardening is something they enjoy a lot. They have a lot of plants (some of which are wild/weeds) knows a lot about their properties
Self-esteem issues (but we knew that)
Spoke Spanish with their mom until (something happened, I’m still figuring out what)
Later picked it up again, or spoke and learned it all through childhood to stay connected to her (dad told him he couldn’t take Spanish because he would ‘cheat’)
His mom used to make heated milk with brown sugar and nutmeg for him. He makes it for his siblings on bad nights, and later for himself when he needs comfort
C-ptsd in general but also about ennard specifically (which makes eating even more of a challenge, and gives him autonomy issues)
They were conscious while Ennard was in them (I’m so sorry)
She’s got her mom’s eyes and smile. She nearly cries the first time someone points out the resemblance because she’s been compared to her father her whole life
Has xeir mom’s freckles and temperament, but xeir dad’s face and mannerisms (unfortunately)
TOUCH STARVED AS HELL
Fuck William’s accent, Michael has his mom’s accent
Nearly debilitating fear of losing autonomy
Can face the worst life has to offer without batting an eye, but crumbles like a wet paper bag in the face of any positive interaction
Loves space and thinking about it and talking about it
Was an annoying and kind of rough older sibling, but also took on the responsibility of his siblings. William was especially bad the week of cc’s birthday, and that translated into being rougher and more calloused with his siblings. If the joke had gone as intended, he probably would have made it up to him in his own rough way once he realized how much it affected cc.
Don’t tell me you haven’t done something in the heat of the moment that you regret later. I know I have
Being gentle comes easily to him after he gets away from his father and learns to leave the ‘be tough or get hurt’ mindset
This makes him even more like his mother, with his temper turning into spitfire protectiveness combined with a gentle empathy, especially for kids
His mother begins to shine through more and more. Where he once had his father’s expressions and habits, he now exhibits his mom’s
Sorting through my Mike refs, I’m realizing how many of my headcanons were just putting a neon sign above his head blaring ‘AUTISTIC. THIS PERSON IS AUTISTIC’
#time to test the waters#fnaf#mike afton#Michael afton#five nights at freddy's#mexican michael afton#michael afton headcanons#headcanons#lgbtq headcanons#actually autistic#autistic michael afton#aro ace michael afton#genderfluid michael afton#can you see a pattern here?#projection strikes again /pos#tal's posts#autistic headcanon#genderfluid headcanon#aro ace headcanon
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what are your disability + mental health hc's for each of the main crew? like what conditions
!!!! i have so much to say but this post is already gonna be soo long- if you want elaboration or just more headcanons on any of them send me an ask !!!
brennan :
brennan has arthritis and chronic pain , and uses a cane !! she also has mild-moderate bilateral hearing loss from the absurd amount of times she's been Blown Up
neurodivergence/mental health wise it's a Long list : she's autistic and has chronic motor tic disorder, persistent depressive disorder (dysthymia), c-ptsd, depersonalization/derealization disorder, arfid, and ednos
booth :
booth has just so much fucking Damage to his body . he has arthritis and general chronic pain from being blown up/shot at/breaking his goddamn bones/etc. he also has fibromyalgia and moderate hearing loss !
he has adhd, dyscalculia, major depressive disorder, c-ptsd, and has struggles with food, though not a full blown eating disorder
angela :
angela has arthritis in her hands , as well as a hypermobility spectrum disorder or hEDS ! she uses ring splints almost always, and uses other joint braces as well (especially for her knees/wrists)
she is autistic and adhd (audhd queen) and also has dyslexia, bipolar ii, ptsd, maladaptive daydreaming disorder, and bulimia nervosa
hodgins :
he is canonically paraplegic , but i also hc that he has hearing loss from the blast (these people get exploded too often to not be hoh) !!
he is also autistic and adhd, and has persistent depressive disorder, tic-related ocd, and c-ptsd
cam :
cam has a seizure disorder and asthma, as well as kidney damage . this all comes from when she got poisoned in season two (seriously, we brushed past that way too fast- from comatose, intubated, and literally "call her family because she's gonna die" to a-okay in a matter of hours ?? what ??)
she is also autistic and has major depressive disorder, panic disorder, ocd, body dysmorphia, ptsd, and anorexia nervosa
#can u tell that im autistic . i fucking love making lists and categorizing information#mental health headcanons
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Do you have any more drawings of the stardew boys? They are so cute :D
Oh wow!! Thank you so much!! I think they are pretty adorable as well. I do have quite a backlog of drawings, but I wanted to make sure I did an introduction post before sharing any of them. I guess here is a good of a place as any to do so! Apologies as this is going to be very lengthy and a bit lax on info regarding @girthleng 's character Judas, I don't have a ton of info on him pre-farm. (Also forgive the boxing glove lookin ahh hand i messed up when lining and things w3nt to heck)
First, let's start with Fletcher (Ronan Fletcher Murphy III), the inheritor of the farm. Fletcher is 27 years old and spent 22 of those living on the farm. He is slender, 5'4, has reddish brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, and has freckles. The farm was owned by his maternal grandparents Bernadetta and Phillipe Lapine. While his mother and uncle are both still alive, neither wanted anything to do with the farm and the Lapine's were very proud of how much he loved it so they left it to him as the oldest grandson.
When he was born, his parents and grandparents all lived in the same big house on the farm. They continued living this way and had two more children, Conor (he/him 22) and Cleo . Fletcher loved taking care of the animals and being a little farmer, going on little adventures with one of the other local boys (Judas). He was a bit of a sickly child but would always power through. That was until age 10 when his parents split up, and his mom took the kids and went to live in the city.
His mother very quickly remarried and, after 2 years, had another child named Esme (she/her 15). During this time, Fletcher's mental and physical health started to tank. He was having more breathing issues, had a lot of anxiety, fainted a good bit, and struggled with keeping awake most times. His mother chalked it up to him being lazy until one day at age fifteen, he ended up in the hospital. After a few months of testing (that his mother begrudgingly took him to and made him feel pretty bad for) he was diagnosed with a connective tissue disease (causing the heart issues, chronic pain, stomach problems, and more), a condition that caused him to have random allergic reactions, asthma, narcolepsy, and c-ptsd. His mother eventually decided to get into contact with her parents (who Fletcher hadn't been able to see for the past 5 years) and out of not wanting to handle raising a sick child, sent him to live with them.
He goes back to the farm, and while it is really difficult going through all that change, the animals really helped him to thrive. He worked and showed most of the animals (especially the horses) when his health allowed it and has continued living and working on the farm until today. At age 20, to help him with his disabilities. His brother Conor gifted him a standard poodle named Thlayli that he had trained himself to aid with Fletchers disabilities. His full siblings would always visit every summer and had a blast in the valley, and that year was spent showing fletcher how to handle the dog and how the dog could help him. It was also around this time that fletcher got diagnoses with Autism and started to learn that things he did differently didn't make him a "weirdo" or a "freak". He was having thr time of his life with his dog, his farm, and his loving grandparents.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever, and his aging grandparents end up passing away a few days before the summer of this year after being hit with an illness. It was a terrible time, but like always, his siblings came to spend the summer. Even though they all were adults, it had become a tradition, and all of them needed each other now more than ever.
Fletcher attempted to just work through the pain but kept ending up sick. While his siblings were there in the summer, helping out and keeping him from feeling lonely. The reality was that they had to go back to their real lives. Cleo was in school to be a teacher, and Conor was a military dog trainer who was going to be deploying that fall. When summer came to a close, Fletcher turned into a bit of a hermit and fully threw himself into working himself to the point of being sick quite a few times. It is one of these times that he reconnects with Judas. His best childhood friend that he had never really connected with. Judas came from a pretty rough home and was falling on hard times. Fletcher was lonely and really needed help on the farm, he had this huge house with plenty of rooms so he offered Judas to stay with him for as long as he was willing to work on the farm. Judas happily agreed, and they've been helping each other heal and grow (physically and mentally for Judas, as Fletcher is so used to making lots of food with farm fresh ingredients and Judas LOVES to eat)
Next up, we have Judas, a 25 year old man whose family.....well, we don't speak of them. He is 5'8, a little on the softer side, has darker brown hair, brown eyes, and skin with a slight tan. All of Judas's life, he's been a bit of a wanderer, an adventurer, an explorer if you will. When he and Fletcher were young, they would spend hours exploring the valley, only popping back to the farm for meals and sleepovers.
When Fletcher left, he became a bit of a loner until one day, exploring the sewers, he meets Krobus. They become quick friends and start hanging out quite a bit. Krobus introduces Judas to the wizard, who he very often attempts to learn everything he can about the world from. When Fletcher first came back, they never really reconnected. Fletcher seemed so distant the first few months of living there, and by the time Judas worked up the courage to start talking to him again, Fletcher was hanging out with one of the worst bullies in school, Alex. Alex had done quite a bit of picking on Judas for things like his sense of style and his size (which, honestly, he wasn't big at all in school. Definitely not compared to when he moves onto the farm and DEFINITELY not compared to now. Alex was just a jerk). It wasn't long until that friendship fizzled out, but Judas was so unsure of anyone that would associate with a guy like that, so he decided to just keep his distance.
One day, a week or two into the fall after the Lapines had passed away, he was walking in the cindersap forest on his way to the wizard. He heard the crashing of some type of animal through the fallen leaves and stopped, looking around, he knew that on at least a few occaisions a bear had been spotted in the area...he saw a flash of big and brown and panicked until he heard a whine and a bark. Seconds later, Thlayli came running up to him without Fletcher. That was never a good sign and was something all the towns folk knew meant he needed to follow the fluffy dog because he was trained to get help if Fletcher fell unconscious or worse. He ran with the dog (although a bit out of breath...yeah he hadn't ran in a while but.....he was just anxious for the man....right?) Until he found Fletcher on the ground and one of the horses saddled and standing nearby. It appeared Fletcher had fainted while riding or been bucked off....regardless, he was injured, unconcious, and bleeding, so Judas scooped him up and rushed him to the doctor.
Harvey (the doctor for anyone that has gotten this far and doesn't know much about stardew) stitched up fletchers face and popped his shoulder back into place while the man was unconscious and gave him fluids and other appropriate care. Judas wanted to stay there and make sure he woke up fine, but he knew without Fletcher at the farm there wouldn't be anyone to take care of the animals, so he decided to go back to the farm. He remembered some things from the past, but he decided to give Cleo a call. She walked him through the basics, and he did his absolute best.
It wasn't long before Fletcher woke up and, in a panicked state, attempted to rush out of the doctors, which Harvey was not going to allow. This was the third time this month that the boy had been rushed into the office after an injury or medical episode. Harvey told him there was no way he needed to be running the farm alone. It was around this time that Judas returned to the office to check up on Fletcher and let him know he was doing his best at taking care of the animals. Fletcher asks if Judas would be willing to stay with him a while. That he would pay him for his time and make sure he had food and a room of his own at the house. Judas happily agreed as it got him out of his toxic home life, and kept an old friend from getting hurt....even though they weren't super close anymore, he still cared for his old friend.....plus he had been meaning to reach out after the mans grandparents had passed, he knew how much they meant to Fletcher and the entire community.
It was only a matter of weeks before the boys became inseparable again, and it really did become very beneficial for them both. Fletcher was still grieving, but he wasn't lonely doing so, Judas was living a comfortable life with a bit of hard work. The rest of the story is to be told at a later date. Just know between lots of food and friendship, that snug hoodie won't fit by spring ;)
Tl;Dr: Fletcher the farmer gets hurt and Judas moves in to help on the farm.
#soft feedism#stardew oc#stardew weight gain#stardew farmer#introduction#chubby#wg comic#male feedism#male wg#queer feeder#queer feedee#feedism art#weight gain#weight gain art#disabled oc#fat fiction#self insert
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Fic: What Spring Does To The Cherry Trees, Chapter 7
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
Rating: Explicit
Fandom: Narcos
Ship: Javier Peña/OFC (Eva)
Tags/warnings (whole thing): slow burn, h/c, a bit of violence (nothing as bad as canon), guns, knife injury, pain and suffering, the loss of a parent (both actually), angst, ptsd, javi being a lil prick but also soft!, (safe) piv sex, masturbation (female AND male), fingering, unprotected piv sex (in the words of the Spice Girls: be a little bit wiser baby, put it on, put it on), pregnancy risk, death of an animal, talk of cancer, so much internal conflict, insomnia, killing coyotes, snake bite, oh my god just get over yourselves already, some eye fucking if you squint.
Summary for the whole thing: Javier Peña has resigned from the DEA and is back at his dad’s ranch in Texas. Life is slow and uneventful, until an unfamiliar face shows up at the local watering hole one night. Eva is retired from the army and lives in her old pickup truck with more than one ghost. She’s looking for ranch work and when her path crosses Javier’s, maybe they can help each other along in their lives?
Chapter summary: In the heat of high summer, life at Big River Ranch is pretty slow and uneventful. Plenty of time for yearning.
A/N: There are baby cows.
Tagged: @amneris21 @chronic-nosebleed
It was not until after Eva got her period that Javier realized just how on edge he had been since That Day. The news of her bleeding melted away some of the stress and shame. He noted with some amount of relief that Eva seemed less tense around him after that night when he offered her what meagre home remedies he had available. He didn’t do it for redemption, but he’s happy the gesture seemed to have bought him some. Her demeanor was still wary, but she would look at him and speak to him. The way she had carefully avoided his gaze was a strange move for someone who had studied him so fearlessly during their first encounter. Javi was glad they were back to some kind of normal.
The cigarettes that he chain smoked while waiting for a verdict for the copulation are forgotten on the dresser in his room when the days turn warm and humid. Sweat glistens on Eva’s muscled arms when she rides Zorro through the herd, eyes out for renegades. Javier forgets himself every now and again, and catches himself staring at her. She always stares back, honey-chocolate eyes narrowing in a silent, provocative Just what the hell are you looking at? He likes that, likes the challenge, but would never let her know that. He can’t break this ceasefire.
She drives into town a lot to visit the library, returning with novels that he sees her reading on the cabin’s small porch in the evenings, when the lingering heat still makes Javi’s shirt stick to his back despite the sun having disappeared below the horizon. He comes over with two cold beers but catches the tightness in her jaw at being disturbed in the middle of reading, so he doesn’t do it again. He misses the evenings on the porch they enjoyed together at the beginning of summer.
He sees Johnny throw glances at her when leaving the homestead after his workday has ended. He’s painfully curious about what has transpired between Eva and the younger man, but would never ask. It’s none of his business – although he’s secretly very happy about Eva and Johnny now seemingly enjoying a strictly professional relationship.
Eva’s energy levels seem to multiply with the rising temperatures. When everyone else grows slow and lazy, she seems to flourish. She clears out the weeds in the back garden, finding herbs that have fought through the invasion of unwanted plants and self-sowing flowers. Despite the late season, she buys chilis and tomatoes, planting them with great care and lots of water. She also cleans out the barbecue pit and treats Javier and Chucho to vegetarian burgers one night, when a welcome breeze cools the air slightly.
“More?” she asks when the men’s plates are empty. Javier has already eaten two. His belly is straining against his jeans, the belt buckle an uncomfortable pressure, but the burgers are lighter than the ones he’s used to and so good that he finds himself asking for a third one.
Chucho declines the offer, leaning back in his seat with a deep, satisfied sigh.
“You spoil us with these meals, Eva,” he tells her, clearly happy with being spoiled. Eva throws him a rare smile from the barbecue pit. Her face is flushed and hairline shining with sweat from the excess heat. It’s a good look on her.
“You’re welcome. Happy you liked it.”
“It’s delicious,” Javi acknowledges. “Almost makes me want to become a vegetarian.”
“Almost,” Eva repeats meaningfully before returning her attention to the grill. Javi leans back in his seat and burps discreetly before taking a swig of his beer. He watches Eva, the back of her olive tank top dark with sweat, and imagines what it would taste like to trace his tongue along her spine. Savory and sweet, with a hint of smoke, he reckons, just like barbecue sauce. A little spicy, just enough to make him thirsty, but not so much so that he’d abandon it altogether for something more refreshing.
He catches a look from his father, and realizes he’s all but whipping his dick out and beating off while drooling over her. Frowning, he looks down at the weather-beaten table, traces an old crack in the wood with his finger.
When Eva returns to the table, a third burger for Javi and some grilled vegetables for herself, Chucho clears his throat.
“I’m looking to buy a stud from a farm near San Antonio,” he tells her. “I’m driving up there tomorrow. You handle the cattle.”
“Sure,” she nods. “Western pastures?”
“Yes.” Not much changes in his weathered face, but Javi can read the look in his father’s eyes: Chucho is very pleased with Eva. And why wouldn’t he? In the field, Eva is everything Javi is not. He knows Chucho enjoys her few-worded company, her initiative, her work ethics. She’s a perfect fit for the ranch.
“What’s the horse?” she asks before bringing the fork to her mouth. A little bbq sauce stains the corner of her mouth, and Javi has to fix his eyes on Chucho. As his father and Eva talk horses, Javi focuses on the third burger, learning quickly that he shouldn’t have insisted on having it. It’s left half eaten on his plate.
“Wasting food is a sin,” Eva points out to him when they clear the table together. He hates that he can’t tell if she’s joking or not.
“Wouldn’t be my worst one.”
“I can imagine.”
Javi detects no hint of judgment in her voice. She doesn’t even look at him, busy as she is stacking plates and collecting cutlery. He desperately, pathetically wants her to look at him, to be engaged in a conversation with him. To acknowledge that he’s not a bad person despite his sins. Some ends do justify the means, don’t they?
Maybe she caught him ogling her earlier. Maybe she knows that he was thinking about catching the drops of sweat on her neck with his tongue. She knows he’s a creep. She knows about the women he fucked on the job, the ones he was supposed to protect but couldn’t –
“Are you taking these?” Eva interrupts his descent into self pity with her demand masked as a question. Javi follows her nod to the tray of condiments and empty beer bottles.
“Sure.”
She disappears into the air-conditioned house before him, and with a deep sigh as his full stomach makes itself known with a digestive rumbling, Javi follows. He shouldn’t have tried to have that third burger. He’s getting pot-bellied. He was always slender, flat everywhere, hips ridiculously narrow against the broad expanse of his shoulders. Now there’s a roundness above his jeans that didn’t use to be there five years ago. He should cut back on fried food, and beer.
Eva is rinsing plates in the sink and glances up at him when his stomach complains again.
“Need something to settle your stomach?”
He doesn’t know what to say.
“There’s plenty of mint out back.”
“Mint?”
“Mint tea. For indigestion. You didn’t know that?” Now she has a tone. Javi’s jaw tightens when his heart clenches.
“It’s too hot for tea,” he tells her abruptly as he shoves the condiments into the fridge and leaves the bottles on the kitchen table before stomping off. The lingering heat of the day is like a punch in the face when he steps out of the house.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Erratic thoughts swarm his brain and make it impossible to hold down any reason. She’s going to think he’s an absolute asshole now, for sure. And she would be right.
He hears the door open and close behind him, and draws a deep breath. He turns around, ready to apologize, but Eva just pushes past him towards the table to collect what’s left after dinner.
“Eva.”
She slams down the bowl she was holding, and lifts her chin. Dark chocolate eyes pierce into his. There’s a trio of vertical lines between her eyebrows.
She waits, and Javier holds up his hands in a gesture of reconciliation.
“I’m sorry.” In his mind, he doesn’t only apologize for being brusque, but also for his lewd thoughts earlier. Not that she’ll ever know, but he feels better about it.
Uncompromising and still silent, Eva stares at him, making him even more uncomfortable. Fuck. She’s just so utterly fucking relentless –
He scratches his head and moves his gaze to the resplendent greenery of the backyard. It looks almost as good as when his mother was alive.
“My… mom used to make me mint tea when I was a kid and had a stomach ache. She’d sit with me and gently blow into the cup to cool it down for me.”
The smell and taste of mint is so intimately woven together with this image of his late mother that Javi hadn’t been able to even chew spearmint gum since she died, but he doesn’t tell her that. In the periphery of his field of vision, he sees Eva turn her face away and bite her lower lip.
“I’m sorry, Javi.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s on me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Should I maybe not have touched the garden?”
“It’s good that it’s looked after,” he confesses. “Mom would have liked that.”
He’s still looking at the garden, realizing that he’s now unsure about its layout. Did the tomatoes grow against the trellis over there, or did his mother plant them against the fence? The mint surely didn’t take up this much space twenty years ago? The cornflowers had not spread across the path, which is now invisible to the eye?
He has been away for so long, and looked without seeing when he returned. Slowly, he walks through the dense brush of mint, stirring the leaves into surrounding him with their strong, fresh aroma that hits him right where it hurts the most. He walks over to the tomato plants and crouches next to them. The smell of mint is still strong, but the rich scent of tomatoes does its best to fight against the coolness. There are several ripe tomatoes waiting to be picked, and Javi wants a taste of them all.
He always wanted that. He wanted it all.
Eva appears right next to him, arms crossed over her chest. As Javi picks a tomato, firm yet yielding under his fingers, she holds out her hand. He gives her the red fruit and watches her lift it to her nose. She draws a long, deep breath, smelling it.
“It hands us the gift of its fiery color, and the totality of its coolness,” she murmurs, as if to herself.
“What?”
“Neruda. He wrote an ode to the tomato.”
He peers up at her, not seeing her face against the setting sun.
“He liked tomatoes that much?”
“He saw beauty in everything around him.” She bites into the tomato. “But they are good.”
Unable to hold back a labored groan, Javi straightens his legs, pulling himself back to standing. He looks down, weighs his words, silently cursing his inability to find the right ones in her company.
“You… see it yourself?” he asks eventually, staring stubbornly at a blazing red tomato on the stalk in front of him. “Beauty around you. After what you must have seen… is there any beauty left?”
Maybe he’s asking because he wants to know if he himself could find it again. Sometimes it seems impossible.
“Sure there is.” The answer is instant and filled with certainty. “Even if I don’t see it all the time, there’s lots of things that make it all worthwhile.”
“Like tomatoes?”
“Like tomatoes,” she confirms. Javi thinks he hears a hint of amusement in her voice, but can’t be sure. He rubs at his mustache. The tomato smell invades his nostrils. Hesitantly, he meets her gaze.
“I… wouldn’t mind that cup of tea.”
Eva raises her chin a little and regards him for a second, forehead slightly furrowed, as if in thought. She then nods.
“Go get the kettle on, I’ll pick the mint.”
///
His pain hits so close to home.
Dawdling, Eva picks the fragrant mint, selecting the largest and finest-looking leaves with exaggerated care in order to prolong her stay outside. Inside her head, there's a whirlwind of over-activity. She and Javi have been good with each other – or at least she thinks so, it’s hard to say what with him sometimes just staring at her like that – since she was certain she wasn’t pregnant. She got herself checked, as well, driving into Laredo to go to a clinic as soon as she could.
It was okay for as long as he didn’t show any feelings. But the second he started talking about his dead mother in that quiet voice which reminds her of her own loss, it got complicated. It makes her feel for him, and that, in turn, brings back memories of that day. The day they shared some of their old wounds, and she actually felt for him when he bared another side of himself to her. The day they kissed. The sex. She wishes she could say the sex wasn’t good, but damn it, it was good. Unplanned and not ideal, but good. He knows how to use his hands. He knows how to kiss. He has a really nice dick, she can’t argue with that. It all reminds her of what she’s missing out on.
It was the day she almost broke down. The sex, Javi, Chucky. It was almost too much for her. The nights sleeping out with the cattle helped her, and once she returned to the homestead, making herself busy in the garden kept her from thinking too much.
Figures that mint would be to Javi what café de olla is to her. That thing which pulls at her heartstrings and makes her want to be a little girl in an intact world again, comfortable and taken care of. Not having to worry about anything but bedtime and even that was nothing but a pleasure because her mother would join her in bed and read her poems.
Sighing deeply, Eva stands up and braces herself to go back in. There’s no use thinking of the past, of things that happened thirty years ago. She has to deal with the situation at hand.
Coming back into the kitchen, she finds Javi pouring hot water into a pot. Two mugs are already waiting on the kitchen table.
“You want one, too, right?” The question is hopeful, and Eva doesn’t have it in her to deny him the company, so she nods. Disposing of the leaves into the pot, she puts the lid on and takes it to the table, sliding down onto one of the chairs. Javi follows, taking a seat on the other side of the table.
“Did you grow up with a garden?” he asks. Eva’s not sure if she likes the subject matter. It feels too risky. But Chucho is within hearing distance, comfortable in his recliner in the living-room, listening to the radio on low volume. If there’s a chance of him overhearing, Javi would surely not step into too hostile a territory, would he?
“Small one,” she shrugs. “I was so young when the farm was sold. Don’t remember much.”
It’s a lie. She remembers a lot, but is still not willing to talk about it.
“For me, it’s the smells,” Javi admits. He suddenly looks tired. His eyelids droop heavily, the lines in his face appear deeper than just moments before. He rubs his forehead and passes his hand over his head, drawing back the thick, full locks before they fall down over his forehead again. “I don’t necessarily remember specific things, but smells trigger the… grief, I guess.”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Eva finds herself filling it. “When you’re so unprepared for it.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her candor, but he finds himself quickly.
“Yeah.” A slow nod, and brown eyes that tear into her own freckled ones. There it is again, that stare that she can’t figure out. It’s not the one a guy uses to undress her with his eyes, it’s not the hostile looks of enemies, whether they be in Kuwait or in old pickup trucks outside roadside diners stateside. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s curious but hesitant, definitely a little flirty but… no, she can’t read it. And it drives her nuts.
“Why are you always gawking at me like that?” she snaps, but without vehemence. Javi winces visibly and lowers his gaze.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Javi clenches his teeth, clearly uncomfortable with the development.
“I guess I don’t know I’m doing it.”
She knows it’s not true but that momentary recklessness she felt when asking him has disappeared as quickly as it showed up, and she’s not ready to pursue the matter. Instead, she has a peek inside the teapot and decides that the brew is ready. Stretching across the table, she fills Javi’s mug before pouring some for herself. Sipping the hot drink carefully, she looks at him over the brim of the mug.
“I remember the mistflower covered in butterflies in July. It was… like they grew on the plants. Like they were the flowers. And when you came up to the flowers and disturbed them, it was like petals flying away.”
She looks down at the mug, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth at the memory.
“I think I remember that the butterflies disappeared when she died. Just like that. Gone, each one of them. I’m sure I’m wrong, but that’s the image I have. Mistflowers without butterflies.”
Javi’s head is slightly cocked, his eyes soft and condoling. Eva meets his gaze across the table, and shrugs. Sips the tea.
“We had to sell quite soon after.”
“I sometimes wish pops would’ve done the same.”
He presses his lips together after that confession, glancing towards the living-room, evidently alarmed that Chucho may have heard him. The radio program is playing Johnny Cash, and a loud snore is heard. Eva wonders if it’s fake; is Chucho listening in? Or is he really deep in a post-dinner nap?
“Less hassle?” she asks quietly.
“Less memories.”
“You have the chance of taking the good with the bad. I had to pick which belongings I loved the most, and leave the rest. I was a kid, and all I wanted was my mom back. I had no idea what to pick.”
She doesn’t want to compare miseries, but for a moment, she’s jealous. Javi still had a functioning father, the ranch. But he chose to run away from it all. She was never given the choice.
He looks pensive, takes a sip of the tea. Nods at the mug when he puts it down.
“Good tea.”
“Just water and leaves,” Eva shrugs. “It’s not that hard.”
“You offered.”
His voice is so quiet she can barely hear him.
“That’s what counts.”
She shrugs again, unable to look at him. Quickly, she drains her mug, burning her mouth on the hot drink but doing her best to not show it.
“I’ll check on the horses. Good night.”
Heart pounding against her ribs, hands sweaty like she was sixteen and being asked to prom, Eva hurries out of the house and takes her refuge in the stable.
///
Chucho took the Ford truck, leaving Javier with the old Toyota with no working AC. The sun’s beating down from a clear blue sky and Javier’s lavender shirt is dark with sweat in no time when he takes lunch out to the crew. He opens the windows, hoping for at least the slightest breeze when driving.
They have herded the cows to the man-made lake surrounded by trees on the west side of the property. The animals drink, rest underneath the trees, and the cowhands are lazily trotting by the water’s edge, keeping the horses on long leashes to allow them to drink. Javi parks the truck underneath a live oak, startling a few calves that get up and leave. Their antipathy towards him disturbing them is expressed in upset mooing, and Javi throws a muttered curse their way. He wipes his sweaty brow and draws a deep breath, only to have his lungs fill with heat. He gets out of the car and hopes for a breeze, but finds none. With heavy steps, he walks to the back of the car, and grabs the cooler.
Eva, riding Zorro, comes trotting towards him. She looks flushed and tired when she dismounts and ties the horse to a low-hanging branch.
“Water,” she says curtly, and Javi hands her a bottle. She drinks greedily before breathing deeply and removing her hat so she can hold the cold bottle to her glistening forehead.
“The cattle okay?” Javi asks, knowing by now that she’s unlikely to answer any questions about her own well-being, but will talk about the cows until the second coming. And the cows don’t handle heat very well.
“Yeah, at least so far. They’re taking it easy.”
Miguel, Pete, and Johnny come over as well, and Javier catches a glare from the youngest man. Or does he? Maybe he’s imagining it. Whether or not there is a rivalry, he’s tired of thinking about it.
They eat in silence underneath the oak, insects buzzing around them, the high whine of crickets punctured every now and then by bovine sounds. The heat is pressing Javi’s eyes shut, making him sleepy and sluggish. It’s hard to focus on anything.
The two seniors are slumbering, backs propped against the tree trunk, and Johnny is chewing on a long grass straw. Eva is keeping an eye on the cattle, fingers drumming quietly against her thighs. The back of her t-shirt is dark with sweat, and when she bows her head to wipe her forehead, Javi catches droplets running down the back of her neck.
He looks away, ashamed by the thoughts that form in his slack brain.
A loud bellow disperses his thoughts. Frowning, Eva comes to her feet and starts to walk in the direction of the sound. The cattle move nervously, letting her through. When Johnny gets up as well, and the two older men start to shift, Javi feels compelled to not be worse than any of them. They all follow Eva until she stops and holds out her arm to the side, elbow bent in a ninety degree angle, fist closed. The order to stop is so clear that even if Javi hadn’t seen it in the field in Colombia, he would have still understood it.
“I think we have a snake here somewhere,” she calls out. “Watch where you put your feet.”
Eyes trained on the grass in front of her, she resumes her walk, now at a faster pace. As the cattle disperse, Javi sees a calf on the ground, its muzzle already swelling up.
“Shit.”
Eva is kneeling by the animal, looking it over.
“It needs antibiotics,” she tells the men. “You have any at the ranch? Tetracyclines?”
Johnny nods quickly. “Medicine cabinet in the stable.”
“Javi?” Eva looks up at him. “Can you go get it?”
“It’ll take me forty minutes there and back again,” he tells her, hesitant about the calf’s chances. Its breathing is already sounding strained. “Can we get it onto the truck?”
“That animal weighs close to 300 pounds!” Johnny protests, but Miguel and Pete are already working something out.
“Tarp at the back of the truck. Get it under her, and we’ll all try to shift her.”
Javi dashes off to the truck to get the tarp.
“Ropes, we need to bind her legs so she stays still – “
“Get the tarp!”
“How’s her breathing?”
“Truck, Javi, get the truck here!”
Barely fifteen minutes later, Javi’s speeding through the grounds as fast as he dares to, Eva and the calf on the truck bed. It took every ounce of strength the five of them had to lift it, and his arms and back are aching. But now at least the poor critter stands a chance.
He keeps throwing backwards glances in the rearview mirror, never seeing anything but the back of Eva’s neck, and her shoulders. When he’s back at the homestead and pulls up next to the stable, she’s swinging over the side of the bed before he’s even come to a full stop, and is inside the stable before he’s even out of the car.
She’s back in a heartbeat, a first aid kit in hand. Pulling out a syringe and a little vial of liquid, she checks the instructions in the kit before filling the syringe, and shooting it into the calf’s neck. The animal’s labored breathing and swollen muzzle stay the same, and Javi doesn’t really know what to expect. Eva pets the calf’s head, murmuring soft words in Spanish, and when he shifts unsurely, she looks up at him.
“Call the vet and let them know what’s going on.”
He nods, grateful for something to do, a chance to be useful. Walking up to the house, he once again tells himself that he needs to get a cell phone.
The vet gives him instructions and promises to come out a little later to check on the calf, and Javi brings back the news to Eva, who’s now sitting on the edge of the bed, the calf’s head in her lap. The animal is still breathing with difficulty, but it doesn’t sound as bad as it did earlier, and the dark, moist eyes seem a little more curious.
“Is she better?” Javi asks, a little surprised at the development. Eva smiles down at the animal and scratches it behind the little horns.
“It looks like it.” She sounds relieved, almost happy. Javi smiles as some of the tension starts to leave his shoulders. He starts to feel his body in a different, yet more unwelcome way: his soaked shirt, the tremble in his arm muscles, his hurting back, his hair plastered on his skull. He’s thirsty and warm.
“The vet’s on his way. Said we did everything right.”
He passes his hand through his sweaty hair and down his slick neck.
“How did you know what to do?”
Eva scoffs. “You think this is my first rodeo? I’ve been here before. Adult cows are so large that they usually don’t react at all to the poison, but little ones like this…”
“300 pounds is not that little,” Javi grunts, leaning against the truck. “My back’s going to kill me tomorrow.”
“It’s hardly her fault if you don’t know how to lift with your legs.”
He likes the bickering. It makes him think that she trusts him. He hopes that she does.
By the time the vet arrives, the calf is already on its feet and has been coaxed down a ramp. After a check-up, the vet gives it a clean bill of health, and by the time he leaves the homestead, the sun is getting low. Chucho returns, having struck a deal about the horse which is to be transported to Big River in the following week, and the ranch hands come back, Zorro in tow after Johnny. The calf, now increasingly unhappy, is placed in Chucky’s box for overnight observation, before being returned to the field the following morning.
///
Javi recounts the day’s events for Chucho over dinner, and the old man seems pleased.
“Quick thinking,” he praises Eva, who just shrugs.
“Not the first time I’ve been in that situation,” she brushes it off. She’s seen many a snake-bitten animal in her life, and while the amount of venom won’t affect a fully grown cow or horse, the young ones don’t have enough body mass to fight it off. And as the bites usually occur on the face, it often leads to breathing difficulties.
“And it was a team effort. Wouldn’t have been able to shift her on my own, or just with a couple of us there. It was dumb luck that Javi happened to be there with the truck.”
“Miguel said he spotted the snake, and killed it,” Javi fills in. “Copperhead, apparently.”
“Many more where that one came from,” Chucho adds. “They usually stay clear of the cattle, but the heat makes all animals act strange.”
Eva hums, finishing up her dinner.
“I gotta go check on the calf. She wasn’t happy about being in the stable. Thanks for dinner.”
The miserable cries of the calf travel out of the open stable doors, and only when Eva gets into the box with it, does it grow more placid.
“You miss your mama, don’t you?” Eva speaks softly to it, scratches it between the budding horns, passes her hands over its soft ears, accepts its tongue in the palm of her hand. “Have you eaten at all? No? You are weaned, you poor little thing. You can have whatever the horses are having.”
The calf whines as Eva leaves the box to feed the horses, and it doesn’t eat until she comes back to it to pet it over the back.
“I’m going to be stuck with you all night, aren’t I?” she sighs. “Okay, then. Bring it. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
She doesn’t mind. The stable with its ventilation and concrete floor is cooler than the cabin, and she enjoys the company of the animals. Returning to the cabin only to pick up a book, she makes a quick detour to the main house to get a treat for the animals. Finding Javier doing the dishes, she stops momentarily at the sight of his broad shoulders, slightly hunched over the sink. The house is pleasantly cool, and he changed his shirt before dinner, but she can still smell his sweat, sweet and musky. The t-shirt is olive green, and tucked into his jeans, bound by a belt around his narrow waist. There is something so contradictory about his masculine body, the way he moves it, and the traditionally feminine chore he’s currently engaged in. It makes her curious, gives her the impulse to slowly peel him open, like an onion. Expose every layer. Smell whatever it is that makes him him.
“You okay?”
She never saw him turn around and catch her staring at him. A small smile in the corner of his mouth tells her that he knows.
“I’m fine,” she replies immediately. “Came to get some apples and carrots.”
“You going to spoil those animals again?”
“You bet.”
“The calf will be fine, you don’t need to sit with it all night.” Javi puts the last items to dry in the rack next to the sink, and reaches for a towel.
“I won’t,” she guarantees, before slipping out of the kitchen with several apples and a couple of carrots.
///
It’s midnight, and the lights are still on in the stable when Javier makes his way across the yard to it. Cricket song and the occasional snort from a sleeping horse is all he can hear. Softly, he makes his way to Chucky’s old box, and looks into it.
Eva and the calf are asleep, curled up in the hay, her spooning the animal with an arm thrown over the round belly, her other arm serving as a pillow to both herself and the animal. He almost bursts out laughing, but manages to pipe it down, instead grinning widely when remembering her promise about not staying there all night.
Silently making his way out of the stable, he turns off the lights, closes the doors, and returns to the main house, where he showers before falling into bed and a deep, dreamless sleep.
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