#My ADHD + my dad wanting me to do it the “correct” way always left me crying at the kitchen counter

[phlonde-era]

I feel so validated by the way Phil multiplies.

Getting the first 18+18=36, then thinking 36x2 which also means 36+36 and if we break it down into easier numbers to add, so we do 36+30=66. Finally is to add the last 6 by counting with fingers= 72

THAT IS EXACTLY HOW I DO MATH, I was doing the same operation in my head with Phil. I love him for that, It makes me feel less stupid.

[castle-dominion]

5x21 still

beautiful music & coffee RC: Yes, which is writer-speak for “all procrastinations welcome”. So what was it? A terrorist plot? A meth lab?

Women hate it when men do that

six minutes is a long enough time bro

Love the badges lol. also love the writer jacket

mum suggested that this is not diego

GET OUT OF THERE BABES GET OUT GET OUT

he WAS planning on selling baseball cards

Oh NO she got trapped or it's a mine

Ok but if it is that sensitive with my adhd I'd die

RC: Loose nail. That’s how floorboards get wonky. KB: You know, if I have to be stuck not standing on a bomb, then I’m glad I’m stuck with you. remember Cuffed?

mahoney my beloved

Gates my beloved & ryan's outfit my beloved

Spray paint my beloved like in indiana jones-- hE SAID THE SAME THING

No it cannot. Going DOWN should not set it off... shifting weight should not set it off, gosh my add would kill me

it's a unique episode, stationary instead of running around after murderers bomb buddy <3

RC, correct: That would be great if you were a reliable judge of your own feelings, which clearly, you’re not. But he brings up the wrong example. She liked you as an author, then she thought u were annoying & you thought she was hot, then you realized she was more than hot & she kind of liked you even tho she hated you, & then you fell for each other & he stopped liking you for being hot but for being you (including your hotness lol)

love all the flashbacks his ear XD APPLES ajdfasjdkfhsjfh I love the flshbacks

RC: Oh, geez. How do you even get in that position? The three boys: EW EW EWWWW

her hair became boring. I miss her old hair

KB: That’s not how I meant it. I can’t help it if you get off by putting things in my mouth.

She's right he did WAY more with bad sayings lol

Cut to: we've never done this before (escept yk that's not what actually happens)

Poor Boyer. poor boyer ten months hhh

Gates my beloved What was that with gates & esposito

BRO... WHAT ARE YOU THINKING

OH NO HE'S DEAD I FORGOT

Oh no he probably set a bunch of bombs!

Like a colonoscopy

Quick as we can, slow as we have to you have a daughter get rid of your porn collection? (esposito: I got u covered bro) WAIT I WAS RIGHT RC: You need me to hind your porn stash so your dad doesn’t find it? I don't make promises. Esp if idk what I'm promising to do

wow hours...

What if I think of ice cream on a sunday afternoon? What if I think of something on a something afternoon? It's ice cream on a sunday afternoon I lick I lick. What flavour of the ice cream will I pick? I want RASP BER RY. I want CHO CO LATE. I want chocolate chip mint chocolate chip with chocolate sauce-a

Lanie knew (& maddie knew & esposito knew & jordan shaw knew & that fbi guy with the dirty bomb knew) how did I forget about natalie rhodes? (& demming asked castle) Who is that last gal tho?

Many of those were undercover & there was that one when she was on a date with the puppy fireman-- BTW WHY DIDN'T ESPOSITO LOOK INTO HIM WHEN THEY WERE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT ABOUT CASKETT?

KB: No, it wasn’t a coincidence because you were always following me around. Why? ‘cause you were into me.

Castle is just playing her lol

They didn't have that silly fake sound when he got hit

They are seriously calling esposito? (also what is the injury on his arm? Is it ever explained? No? Good. I like how he is allowed to have random injuries that have explanations even if they were not explained onscreen. Maybe he was cooking. He has a life outside of what we see.)

JE: Seriously? Who liked who first? JE: You do realize that I’m busy trying to save your life? JE: listens, but he doesn’t really care. KR: Who’re you talking to? He covers the microphone. JE: It’s Castle and Beckett. I think they’re starting to crack. Check it out. He flips his phone over to speaker. KR gives JE a look. They’ve lost interest. KR: Yeah, well, totally losing it. JE: Yep.

Why is there a timer too?

30m & not 47 seconds exactly castle my man

Only half an hour left? Oof look at these beautiful scenes look at this flashback but it is different from the previous funny ones I just love it

MARTHA BUSTING IN ON THEM LMAO

The story always matters The flashbacks are getting annoying but actually I like it. & then the samebrain moments. I just saw a youtube video of samebrain moments & then his spun tales I love it. Spinning too far insane

RIGHT? THE BASEBALL CARDS WERE INDEED SUS

Read em through each individually

Oof only 10m left. I can't believe it has taken hours & then suddenly only 30m left

Clever of her to have made him promise this Girl you have a daughter

First name hhhhhh I love you HHHHH Always

Has she had anything to drink all day?

Calling her dad hkjsdfhsjkdfhh good for her this is saddddd who else does she absolutely need to call

MONTGOMERY HJKASHFDJKHSFJDSKFJSGHJDSKFSDJ

this is another flashback sequence sjfdksljfklsdj mmmmmmm

Great scene there camera angle like that

But srs what if they DO like put a box beside her

CASTLE IS SO CLEVER

But that didn't mean anything, diego didn't know anything...

Porn, more porn witness protection?

Ryan has removed his tie... (someone should take pics from allllll angles & on all days for this man & his outfit)

But what is the kid's NEW name? & what was his code BEFORE he got the name?

five digit code tho JE: What kind of mother’s gonna call her kid Willy unless she wants his ass kicked every day at the playground? could have been the kid's bday

Maybe DON'T step off yet just in case it only deactivated the timer...

Love how he slams the table once castle confirms she's off

Always <3

ngl when I first noticed the red car (in under the influence with the musician & the foster kid, the joey malone ep) I thought it was his personal vehicle but it has lights & stuff on it. & gates is in it huh THAT'S WHY HE TURNED ON THE SIREN, TO PREVENT THEM FROM KISSING IN FRONT OF GATES also becks needs some water & food sharing hugs but they didn't switch hugs, it was only especkett & rystle.

Even you mr castle! She was a detective too! gates <3 <3 <3 castle looks so proud lol

clipping that lol

the music jfsdhfskdhjdsj but they def had more kisses that were not onscreen again with the flashback I'm love

What a great kiss

[rjhpandapaws]

Will be the Best Years of My Life

Ch 3: I'll Stay Behind to Stay with You

Middle school came with his teachers trying to get him to go the way of Connor. They figured bumping him up a grade would help with his ADHD; that having a challenge to pit his boundless energy against would calm him down. They didn’t listen when he told them it wouldn’t work. That if they just put him in Daniel’s class he would be fine. The school didn’t believe him on that either and decided to go over his head and call his dad. So the next Monday found him in his guidance counsellor’s office with his dad. Understandably, when he’d first gotten the call his dad assumed Silas had gotten himself into trouble again. Silas watched with some amusement as his dad got gradually more annoyed as his guidance counsellor talked at him. “That isn’t going to work.” His dad said bluntly and cut the counsellor off, “Just because their twins doesn’t mean Silas has the same needs as Connor. If you shove him into a new class he’s only going to disrupt more because he’s going to be on his own in a new environment.” The counsellor tried to pipe up again, but withered under his dad’s glare, “Did you even bother asking Silas what he needed or did you ignore him because he’s a child?”

“Ah, well,” He scrambled, “We just thought this would be a better fit for him.” “Than what exactly?” His dad pressed. “He asked to be switched into the same schedule block as Daniel Pealeson.” He explained, “We didn’t think placing him in a class with someone he had history with was a good idea.” “So let me get this straight.” His dad leaned to his full sitting height before he continued, “And correct me if I’m wrong; but instead of putting him in class with the one person known to keep him focused, you want to pull him away from his peers and into a classroom full of strangers?” “Well when you put it that way-” “Do you have any idea how ADHD actually works?” His dad continued, “Routine and familiarity work best to keep these kinds of things to minimum. If you put him in Daniel’s schedule block things will go better. If you don’t believe me you can ask his elementary school teachers. They found this out on accident.” “Alright.” His counsellor said after a long silence, “We’ll make the change as soon as we can.” His counsellor clearly didn’t expect his dad to be as well informed as he was; he was out of his depth and he knew it.

They were dismissed after that and Silas smiled as his dad ruffled his hair on the way out. It was nice to know that even when no one else would, his dad would always be there to make sure the right thing got done. It was tiring to always be ignored and talked over just because he’s a kid. “Sorry you had to get called in just to tell them the same things I have been for weeks.” He said when they got into the hall. His dad just shrugged, “It’s not a problem Sixer, that’s what Dad’s do.” He pulled Silas against his side in a tight half hug, “Sorry it had to come to me being called in just so you could be heard.” “Its just so frustrating.” His voiced wobbled with tears. He always hated that his first response when he felt anything in excess was to cry. He was angry, “I’m the one dealing with this. They should believed me when I say I know how to make it better child or not!” “Shh Six, I know” He pulled Silas into a full hug and ran his hand through his hair to soothe him, “Let’s go home for today, and you can try again tomorrow.” “Okay.” He sniffled, “I don’t think I can concentrate like this.”

Silas was in a relatively low mood after that. He just wanted to be heard and listened to by the adults around him. Why was that so hard? They listened to his twin, so why not him? Was it because Connor’s Autism showed more than his ADHD? If he had a meltdown would they listen to him then? “Hey, come back to me Silas.” His dad’s gentle voice pulled him out of his head and he realized he was crying again. “Sorry,” He mumbled as he wiped his eyes. “Want to talk about it?” His dad prodded gently. Silas heaved out a wet sigh as they pulled into the driveway, “I just don’t get it. They will listen to Connor when he needs special requirements, but whenever I need help they ignore me. Why?” His dad was quiet for a long moment and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he looked for his words. “You and Connor present differently. His Autism comes through more than his ADHD so the school tends so see him as a small child, like he can’t function properly without his accommodations. Your ADHD comes through more, and that’s been reduced to you simply having too much energy instead of what you actually deal with. They think that if they can make you tired you’ll behave in the way they want.” He paused, “It’s not so much that they see Connor and don’t see you; but more that they see you in two very different lights.”

Silas sighed again, “Why can’t they just listen to us? It can’t be that hard.” “Because they’ve gotten it in their heads that they know what’s best, even when they very clearly don’t.” His dad replied with a level of exasperation that Silas felt down to his bones, “Take today to try and decompress okay? And if you want you can invite Daniel over after school. Alright?” He gave slow nod, “Okay.” They got out after that and went inside. Silas changed back into his pajamas and climbed back into bed. He pulled out his phone to message Daniel, but his exhaustion pulled him under before he could get that far. When he woke up a few hours later his dad had left to go back to work. So Silas more or less had run of the house. Any other day he would have seen this as an opportunity to cause trouble. Instead he dug in the fridge for his leftovers and put on cartoons. He didn’t really want to be a person today. The morning had been draining and he was still feeling sour about it. He checked his phone and found a couple of messages from Daniel.

Danny: R U ok? Danny: Silas? Sixty: Had some issued so I’m @ home. Sixty: You can come over later if you want Danny: Of course <3 see you after school Sixty: See you then <3

He smiled slightly as he picked through his food. Talking to Daniel always made him feel better. Daniel didn’t always understand what he was going through, but he always tried his best to be supportive. Silas always appreciated it. When it became clear that he actually wasn’t hungry despite not eating anything all day, he put his food back in the fridge and went back to watching cartoons. Eventually he went to grab his Switch so he had something to keep his hands busy. That was how Daniel found him when he came in through the front door with Connor and Cole. They shared a look and Silas grabbed his things so they could head back to his room. He didn’t have the energy to deal with everyone today. “Pajama day huh?” Daniel asked lightly as they settled on his bed. “Something like that.” He replied as he leaned his head on Daniel’s shoulder, “How was school?” “Pretty boring, like usual.” He said and shrugged his free shoulder, “How was your day?” Silas huffed, “Tiring. Dad had to come in and rescue me from being bumped up a grade.”

“They’re still on about that?” Daniel groaned, “They know it won’t work right?” “They do now.” Silas laughed, “I’ve never seen someone look so scared of my dad. The good news is I should be getting moved to your class soon.” “That’s great.” He grinned at Silas. “You know I did think about it right?” He said eventually, “Moving up a grade.” “Why didn’t you?” He asked. “I looked at Connor and how he’s always reaching back for Markus, and I realized that wasn’t what I wanted.” Silas explained, “I’m happy to stay behind because that means I get to stay here with you.” He was met with a bright smile, “I’m glad you chose to stay then. It would have been lonely with out you.” He took one of Daniel’s hands in his and intertwined their fingers, “Attached at the hip remember?” He squeezed Silas’s hand in return, “Attached at the hip.” He echoed. Silas smiled, he was happy to stay behind if it meant he could stay like this.

[sinnamonn]

Welcome to Hell: Ch 1.

Word count: 2.8K

A 20 year old gets isekaied to hell and has to attend private school with a bunch of demons who’re assholes and they hate it here.

Gia did not want to be here.

Wherever ‘here’ was, exactly.

‘What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!?’ Their eyes frantically darted around their surroundings, they were in some kind of courtroom? An overly fancy courtroom surrounded by a bunch of men.

Were...were they on trial? Did they finally commit a war crime?

“Welcome to the Devildom, Gia.”

The redhead jumped as someone spoke from their blind spot.

Their blind spot-? Oh god Gia didn’t have their glass eye in! Quickly, they shut their left eye tight and moved their hair to cover it. No one wanted to see their hollow socket, that was gross.

“...Oh, pardon me, feeling a bit shocked are we?” This person continued. Gia turned to see a tall, broad man in by far the ugliest military-esque uniform they had ever seen. He continued, more so talking at them than to them, “Well, that’s understandable, you’ve only just arrived after all. As a human it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things in the Devildom.”

What the absolute hell was this guy talking about!?

“Wha…? Am I hallucinating?” Gia asked, finally breaking out of their shocked silence. That had to be the answer; Gia snapped and their fractured mind conjured up this delusion to cope. Or maybe it was the new ADHD meds? They didn’t remember any of the side effects being hallucinations, but you never know, right?

That statement earned a laugh from the man, “That...That’s such a human thing to say! Outstanding!” He happily exclaimed, “I have a feeling you might be just the sort of person we’re looking for!”

‘Looking for?’ Gia thought, more anxiety settling in them. Was this a human trafficking situation? Were they sold to these weirdos?! “Who are you? And where the hell am I?” They asked cautiously, if this was a human trafficking deal, then they would need to be extra careful, especially since this guy was kinda off. In kidnapping situations, the best way to guarantee survival is to not fight, earn your kidnapper’s trust, and wait for the right opportunity to escape.

At least, that’s what was drilled into them by their mother and the true crime documentaries they watched in their spare time.

“Right, I suppose I should start by introducing myself. I am Diavolo, the ruler of all demons, and all here know my name,” ‘Diavolo’ explained, “and as for where you are, you’ve more or less answered that yourself.”

Gia blinked a few times, processing what he just said, “I’m...in Hell?

Oh.

“Yes, but we refer to it as the Devildom, and soon I’ll be crowned it’s king.”

Oh!?

Gia looked around, their eye landing on a balcony overlooking a large town; and when they moved their head to the left a little more there was a giant castle.

This place was Hell?

Diavolo kept speaking, “This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo...or RAd for short…,”

Gia only half listened. They were in Hell, the only way to get to Hell was by dying and that meant that Gia themself was dead. How did they die? Did their lack of memory imply that the redhead died in their sleep? That would explain why their eye was out and why they had on the oversized Rob Zombie sweatshirt their dad left them.

Beside that, Hell was a lot nicer than they expected. When Gia thought of ‘Hell’ they imagined way more fire, brimstone, and screams of the damned; not some fancy private school run by a monarch. Well, they supposed that private school was a type of hell in itself, but still this was unexpected.

“I’m the president of said council,”

Of course he was the one running things, then maybe he knew how they ended up here?

“So,um, how did I die...and why am I here?” They asked, god that sounded weird.

“Excuse me?” Diavolo asked

“How did I die and why am I here?” Gia repeated, “I mean, I always figured I’d go to Hell, but I wanna at least know how I got here.”

Another man came into their view, and he looked far more intimidating than Diavolo, “I will explain everything to you, first being that you’re still very much alive.” He said, Gia immediately didn’t like him, he had a high and mighty way of speaking, almost like he was talking down to them. He just had all around bad vibes.

“Gia, this is Lucifer, he’s a demon and the Avatar of Pride.” Diavolo introduced the Bad Vibes Man.

Well, no shit this guy was a demon, they were in Hell after all. But ‘Avatar of Pride’? What did that mean?

“He’s also the Vice President of the student council and my right hand man...not just in title, I assure you.” He continued

So they were fucking?

“Beyond that, he’s also my most trusted friend!”

That statement earned a sigh from Lucifer, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo.”

They were absolutely fucking.

Lucifer’s attention turned back to the redhead, a fake smile plastered on his face, “On behalf of the entire student body at this great and storied school of ours, I offer you a most heartfelt welcome, Gia.”

He totally memorized a script.

Gia stared up at him with a blank look, “Answer my other question, why am I here if I’m not dead?”

That earned a light chuckle from the demon, “Interesting, you’re quite different from Solomon.”

Who the hell was Solomon!?

Lucifer continued, “Diavolo believes we should start strengthening our relationship with the other realms. As a first step towards this goal, we’ve decided to institute an exchange program. We’ve sent two of our kind to the Human Realm and two to the Celestial Realm.” He explained, “And we’re welcoming four students to our school, two from your world and two from the Celestial Realm.”

Wait, Gia never signed up for any damn exchange program! You can’t just warp people to different realms without consent, right?!

“Ok...I’m connecting the dots now. But why me? I don’t remember signing up for anything,” they said, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of their sweatshirt, “much less an exchange program to He-The Devildom.” They corrected themselves.

“This isn’t something one signs up for,” Diavolo chimed in, “You just happened to fit all the criteria we were looking for.”

A one eyed, goth enby was what they were looking for? That sounded like bullshit.

“Your period of stay is one year,” Lucifer continued, “You will work on tasks you receive from RAD, and afterwards you’ll write a paper on your stay.”

“One year!?” Gia exclaimed, “I can’t say here that long! I have a life back in the human world and you can’t just rip me away from that!”

“Oh?” Lucifer’s gazed sharpened at them, “From our research, you’re life didn’t exactly have much going, you’re not in school, you work on commission, and you don’t seem to have any friends.”

He did not have to go there on that last part.

“My family will wonder where I am...and I still have people who depend on me.” Gia argued back, glaring back at Lucifer.

“‘People’?” Lucifer questioned in a way that made Gia know that he knew that statement was only a half truth, “You mean the stray cats that come crying to you for food every evening?”

Wow, Gia never wanted to throat punch anyone so badly.

“You forgot about the possum I’ve been domesticating and my garden snails.” Gia smirked, “What about it?”

This

Nope, they were not going to show weakness, not to some seven deadly sin motherfucker, not to some demon prince, not to anyone. Lucifer only shook his head, “Now, you should know that you won’t be alone here, you’ll be looked after by my brother Mammon, Avatar of Greed.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be an iPhone, placing it into their hands, “You’ll need this, it’s a D.D.D, it’s a lot like the cellphones from your world. It’s yours during your stay here.” Lucifer explained, “Now go ahead and call Mammon.”

“O...Ok....” Gia replied, opening the device with ease. Lucifer wasn’t lying, this thing was nearly identical to the cellphones back in her world. They easily found their contacts list and Mammon’s number. Now for the hard part, actually talking on the phone.

Don’t show weakness around the demons, if Gia did that they’d be eaten alive. Don’t be the person who sassed a high ranking demon but can’t talk on the phone. That would be embarrassing.

They pressed call, waiting with bated breath as it rang. After what seemed like forever ( it was twenty seconds), “Mammon” picked up.

“Yooo.”

Wow, this guy seemed nothing like Lucifer and Diavolo, maybe he was cool?

“Uh, hey…” Gia answered nervously.

“Eh? Are ya foolin’ around? Who the hell are ya?!”

“I’m the human from the ‘exchange program’,” they explained quickly, “and apparently your problem now.”

“Whaa? A human?” He sounded like he sighed in relief on the other end, “geez, I was gettin’ all chilly thinking it was Lucifer again. Ya should have told me earlier! Also, go be someone else’s problem, nothing’ in it for me. See ya.”

Nope, he was an asshole too. Great.

“Wait--! Lucifer called for you!” Gia stammered.

“Pfft, whatever,” Mammon groaned, “ya think THE Mammon would listen to ya just cause you’re tryin’ to scare me with that name?”

Before Gia could reply, Lucifer took the D.D.D from them, looking annoyed, “You’ve got ten seconds....nine....eight....”

Mammon must have changed his mind because Lucifer handed back the D.D.D, that signature fake smile back on his face. “You two seemed to have a nice chat.”

“Your brother is a dick.” Gia stated bluntly, earning some muffled laughter from the others they couldn’t see.

“That’s one way to put it…” Lucifer replied, rubbing his temples.

“”But you shouldn’t worry to much, Mammon won’t be the only one helping you out,” Diavolo added, turning to Lucifer, “you still need to introduce our new friend to the rest of your brothers!”

Gia could see the life leaving Lucifer’s eyes, “As much as I dread the idea of doing so, you’re right.”

Oh, god there were more of them? !

Suddenly, a new demon came into view, the only way Gia could describe him was soft. He looked like a soft boy™, his hair was a fluffy light brown and his bright amber eyes pierced through them. “Oh come now. Really? You should be honored to get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” He pouted.

“Gia, this is Asmodeus, fifth eldest and the Avatar of Lust.” Lucifer completely ignored the other demon’s statement. Asmodeus didn’t seem to like that and complained more, truly a younger sibling at their finest.

“Hmph, at least he didn’t ignore you all together. How do you think I feel?” Questioned another, this one blonde and wearing a bowtie. Yet another soft looking boy, Gia was beginning to find it harder to see these guys as legit demons.

“And that one is Satan,” Lucifer continued, “he’s the fourth born, he may seem like responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders, but looks can be deceiving.”

Satan shot Lucifer a dirty look, “Really?” I’m the deceiving one?” He sneered, but it was replaced quickly by a polite smile when he turned back to Gia, “Nice to meet you, Gia, I’m Satan, Avatar of Wrath.”

Wrath? This guy was wrath? He didn’t give off ‘wrath’ vibes at all. To be completely honest Gia guessed he’d be the Avatar of Envy what with his green eyes, nails, and shirt. Archetypal symbolism meant nothing here, then?

Awkwardly, Gia extended their hand to the, “So...Lust and Wrath, huh?” They said though it came off more as a question. Satan went to reciprocate the gesture, but he was cut off by Asmodeus; he took the small human’s hand, lacing his fingers between theirs and completely invading Gia’s personal space.

“That’s right~! Lust is what I’m all about, including my power.” He cheerfully explained, “In fact, let’s give a little demonstration!”

The demon moved to close the gap between them.

“Hey--wait sec-!”

He ignored them, going to move the hair obscuring their eye, “Gia, could you-why are you closing your eye so hard? Are you winking at me?”

Gia yanked themself away from him, wanting desperately to put more distance between the two and avoiding eye contact with Asmodeus.

“No, I’m just missing it.” They replied simply. That statement seemed to take everyone aback.

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that…” Lucifer stated

Just when Gia thought the whole ‘fitting the criteria’ thing was bullshit, Lucifer goes and says that.

“You studied me enough to know my only friends were cats, snails, and a possum, but not enough to know that I’m missing an eye?” Gia asked, sounding rightfully exasperated.

“W-Well in all your photos you had both of them.” Diavolo said, trying to defend Lucifer. Ignoring the very, very creepy implications of that Gia replied, shrugging, “That was a glass eye, guess I was summoned here before I had a chance to put it back in.”

“Eh? Why would you even take it out?” Asmo shuttered.

“Gotta wash it.” They answered.

They jumped as they felt a hand on their left shoulder, letting out a small squeak they hoped that no one caught. These guys were just gonna ignore the fact they were blind on that side, huh?

“Oh, sorry,” Satan removed his hand, “But word of advice; be wary of Asmodeus’s gaze, he can charm and manipulate anyone with it, and then use them to his advantage.” He warned, “If you’re not careful, he’ll charm you then eat you alive.”

So he was basically a walking roofie?

“...Duly noted.” They replied.

“Hey! Don’t badmouth me to the cutie!” Asmo pouted, “We’ll continue this later, right Gigi?” He winked.

“No.”

“Ok, that’s enough.” Lucifer sighed, turning Gia’s attention to an absolutely huge guy with a not-so-pleasant look on his face, “Now this is Beelzebub, he’s the sixth oldest.”

“Lucifer, I’m hungry.” He complained. It didn’t take them long to figure out he was the Avatar of Gluttony, his introduction punctuated with his stomach growling,“I’m Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony.”

“Cool.”

“And Mammon, the second eldest, will be here soon,” Lucifer said the other demon’s name in annoyance, Gia wasn’t exactly excited to meet him, “My other brothers aren’t here at the moment but...well, we can get to them later. All in good time.”

No, it was all in bad time because Gia didn’t want to be here and didn’t want to meet this Mammon or any other of his asshole brothers.

Diavolo added, “during your stay in the Devildom the seven demon brothers will lend you their strength, and you’ll be living with them for your own safety.”

Gia had a pretty good idea why, “because humans are food to demons?” They questioned.

“That and if anything were to happen to you it would be our responsibility,” Lucifer said, “I won’t betray Diavolo’s expectations.”

What a devoted husband.

“So, I will do everything in my power to make sure you survive your stay here.” Lucifer continued.

And how did he plan to do that? By making them exchange numbers on a messaging app like high schoolers. That was it? No demonic protection seal? No demonic guard dog? How lame.

“I’ll send you a message!” Diavolo said excitedly taking out his own D.D.D.

“Isn’t that nice, Gia? You’re going to be friends with the future king of the Devildom.” Satan spoke up. Yeah, great.

The D.D.D buzzed, Diavolo’s only message being a sticker of some...demonic penguin looking thing looking angry, that was quickly followed by an apologia text from him,

“Sorry! Ignore that! I’m still new to texting!”

Gia felt the corner of their lip twitch, ‘Hah, what a dad.’ In response, they sent back another demon penguin thing, this one looking a lot happier and Diavolo sent back the same.

Suddenly, Gia became aware of heavy, fast footsteps approaching the hall.

Lucifer groaned, “Well, you’ve got that figured out, and it seems the idiot has arrived as well.”

The double doors slammed open, hitting the walls with a loud bang; and in stormed a very pissed off looking twink.

“HEY! Just who do you think you think you are, human!? You’ve got a lot of nerve summoning the great Mammon!”

Like Lucifer, Gia immediately disliked this demon. Was this their personal hell? A kingdom of obnoxious rich boys that reeked of “I peaked in high school?”

Mammon got up in their face and Gia was immediately hit with the stench of axe body spray and insecurity all but seeping out of the demon's pores. It reminded them of the boys she went to school with who would get red in the face when they sat down during the pledge.

This was absolutely Gia’s personal hell.

[sanderssideswriting]

Youtuber Life Chapter 1

Based off this post

Ships: familial sleepxiety and eventual Prinxiety

Words:???

first  next

Summary: Remy Sanders is a famous beauty vlogger and just moved to LA with his teenage son Virgil after their location was leaked by fans. Remy AKA CoffeeAddiction has several million subscribers. Virgil also has a secret Drama channel, where he doesn’t show his face and uses a voice modifier. He just hit a million subs and grows more everyday because of the level of production his videos have, the mystery around who he is and the fact that he ALWAYS has the latest information regarding youtube drama.

The house was pretty big, it wasn't where most youtuber houses where but it also wasn’t to far. Remy was already vlogging about the new house.

“This is my new house, there will be a house tour later, this time I’ll be making sure you guys can’t find it. I love y’all but I don’t love it when people find out where I live and then put it on the internet. I like my privacy, well the little I have left and I’d like to keep it that way. See you soon babes,” and the camera was turned off.

the first thing they set up was the basement, where Remy filmed almost everything with another room to do voiceovers and editing.

Virgil and Remy had a pretty good time decorating the house and it turned out really nice.

Then school started.

Virgil was dreading it, to say the least, he did NOT want to be the new kid. Being the new id sucks, everyone wants to know everything about you. And Virgil tended to avoid talking about his personal life for obvious reasons. But the kids at his school wouldn’t know that.

Then he found out it would be private school.

“Dad! There’ll be fake stoners! They’re worse then real stones! Plus everyone will be stuck up and annoying! I’ll have to wear a uniform!” He complained.

“They have a Starbucks in the cafeteria,” Remy said.

Virgil shut up.

The first day of school came and Virgil did indeed have to wear a uniform, it wasn’t that terrible, but he still hated it simply because it was a uniform.

At school he was given his schedule and a map and left to find his own way to class. He was only ten minutes late to the first one and five minute to every one after that.

At lunch there was no Starbucks apart from stuff in bottles, Virgil bought two anyway but  texted his dad.

V: you lied about the Starbucks Remy: Technically they DO have Starbucks V: not the good kush Remy: It’s cold and it has caffeine and the logo V: you’d never drink it Remy: I can afford not to V: so can I, just can’t get any atm Remy: pay attention in class V: it’s lunch Remy: make friends! Or like idk make a sarcastic tweet on Twitter, apparently texting your dad isn’t very cool with the kids these days V: it would be if they knew that YOU’RE my dad Remy: go drink coffee or something, I need to edit

“Hey! You’re new right?” A boy with light brown hair and round glasses asked sitting down.

Virgil nodded.

“I’m Patton Foster and this is Logan Berry, our other friend Roman Prince is coming he’s meeting with a teacher,” Patton said.

“Virgil Sanders,” Virgil said.

Patton and Logan seemed to take that as their queue to sit down with him.

“Where did you move from?” Patton asked.

“Atlanta.”

“Cool! Why did you move here?” Patton asked trying to make conversation.

“My dads job,” Virgil said.

His phone buzzed, he best friend Janus and Remus had snapped him.

It was a basic snap saying ��how’s LA treating you? See Jake Paul yet?”

Virgil texted them back.

Racoon: lol not yet, but I’m sure it’ll be soon Hiss hiss motherfucker: yeah, they’re like an infestation Raccoon: ouch Dukey: How’s the Starbucks at your fancy rich kid school? Racoon: A fucking lie, at this rate I’ll be drinking the bang they have Hiss hiss motherfucker: ew, no don’t Racoon: I know Dukey: Seen any stoners or druggies yet? Racoon: saw a few fake ones, including one kid asking everyone if they’d sell him their Adderall Dukey: weakass stoners Racoon: you have ADHD not a drug problem Remus, you’re not a stoner Dukey: I could be Hiss hiss motherfucker: well you’re not, so shut the fuck up Hiss hiss motherfucker: there’s a new pallet coming out in a few weeks... Racoon: Not doing it, it’ll be hard enough to get one, get your own Hiss hiss motherfucker: at least tell me how you LAWAYS get them Racoon: lol no

Janus sent a lovely picture of his middle finger

Virgil did the same, but with his face in it.

“Hey, you’re the new kid right?” Another guy said sitting down, Roman probably.

“Unfortunately, Virgil Sanders.”

“Roman Prince, your name sounds familiar,” Roman said.

Virgil shrugged “no idea why,”

“Where are you from?”

“Atlanta, isn’t that cool Roman!” Patton said.

“That’s how I know you! My twin Remus Duke, I think he’s told me about you before,” Roman said.

Virgil took a picture of Roman and sent it to Remus.

Racoon: you know him? Dukey: yeah, he’s my twin, why? Racoon: first of all you have a TWIN? I thought you where an only child. Dukey: child of divorce here, yeah we still talk. Small world ig Racoon: and you told him about me? Dukey: yeah, so? Or are you to stuck up to have people talk about you? Racoon: fuck off, or I’ll do your channel next Disgrace Dukey: try me bitch

“Yeah no, your right, Remus just didn’t say he was a fucking twin for some reason,” Virgil said.

Roman looked pretty offended at that. Virgil smirked “now I know why Remus says ‘offended princey noises’ all the time.”

“That fiend says what?” Roman demanded.

“Don’t hurt yourself Princey.”

The bell rang and Virgil made a quick exit.

At home he got in and saw the Filming light by the basement door was on. He opened the door anyway. “Has the espresso machine been unpacked? Also you fucking lied! There was no Starbucks!”

“Filming! Read the fucking sign, of course it was unpacked and it’s your fault for thinking it was a rich, rich kid school. Why the fuck would they have an actual Starbucks in the cafeteria? What did you learn today? And get me some espresso if you’re going to make some.”

“Fake stoners are worse then real stoners and they can go fuck themselves,” Virgil said before closing the door to get some espresso, which he promptly mixed into his coffee.

“People have been begging me to do an update on this so here it is. Trisha Paytas and DID, sorry it hasn’t been done yet but I’ve been getting new equipment and also moving stuff around so I can have a bigger space to edit and record. So we all know she’s faking, I’ve actually been doing research, not a ton, I’m not an expert but I have been learning. Not only to debunk Trisha but just understand DID more because I’m very uneducated and want to change that. DID is a very serious condition and Trish is not portraying it well or even describing it, she is describing things everyone does. Such as living in America and going to England, everyone’s accent naturally changes over time, you act differently around people. Those are not alters, that has nothing to do with DID. Let’s get into the video so I can correct more but not everything because I’m not an expert. “That’s it for today, I can’t take anymore stupidity so I’ll see you next week for another episode of “What the fuck did she say now?”

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Hey! It’s me the anon again! I totally get what you are saying but from the opposite of the spectrum where memorization feel is impossible but my adhd(I also probably have asd I am working with a therapist to try to find a place to do an evaluation at the moment) allows for me to make an insane amount of connections. So like I get it but from the opposite end? It’s still tricky but I am better at analyzing things then memorizing them. Like when I took art history I for the life of me couldn’t remember terms/names/dates of art pieces but i do remember stories about them and can analyze things really well.

My biggest issue is getting overwhelmed with what is in my head because it’s too much so it can be hard to get it out. I am constantly connecting things in an interdisciplinary way to the point I have had one of my college professors say that I am one of the most interdisciplinary thinkers she knows if not the most. I can’t turn it off and I low key wonder if my brain only understands life through metaphors lol.

Idk if that made sense since I am just waking up from a nap and I am barely coherent but I get that different things work better for different people! I am interested in how dyscalculia effects how people learn! I think 1-3 people in my hall at college have it? I have a little bit of an understanding but I want to know more. In another life I would definitely study neurodivergence and the brain. I am just glad that none of my college classes so far have required exams. Only essays and art pieces(one of my majors is studio art)

From my experience (everyone has different experiences) dyscalculia affects my ability to process simple information that require reasoning rather than memory. It's gonna be a long post, so I'll write everything else under the cut.

I'll try to explain it with an example, starting from math: take something as simple as take-aways, the ones you do in elementary school, even.

The other day, I had to calculate 2021-14. My reasoning was flawed from the start, and I only realised it after my parents made me notice.

I said "okay, let's simplify this." because I know I have to, "If it were 2020-15, that would be 5." I know as much, because as long as something's a multiple of two or of five, I can manage.

I continued, "2020-15=2005. But I need to consider the 1 I dropped to go from 2021 to 2020, and the 1 I added to go from 14 to 15." and I can tell you that I just had to check with my calculator because I was doing it wrong again. Anyway.

"Since I added 1 and took away 1, it would be like doing 1-1, so 0... 2021-14=2005."

And I still swear on whatever you believe in that it still makes no sense to me, even if I try to draw the little dots as if I were six years old. Like, right now. I don't get it. I really took away one and added one, so why would 2021-14=2007? Where did I take that extra 2 from? Try and explain it to me, and I promise that I still won't get it.

I just don't get what I'm doing it wrong, and if the calculator weren't there I'd be dead by now.

Now, expand this problem to every little thing that involves critical thinking. Everything. Most of the problems involve numbers, but not only, sadly.

Formulas. You know algebra, right? Numbers are rare there, and most problems involve data that are letters, or numbers that really don't need to be processed on their own, it's a matter of copying them down correctly.

So, you just need to use the right formula, put the data there, and it's done.

Wrong.

Visual memory allows me to remember formulas easily, but I don't know how to pick the correct data.

If I know that something's, like, the speed of a body, and I know that the speed of a body goes in a certain little spot of the formula, I'll still get it wrong because something happens in between me understanding where I need to put the data and me putting the data in there. I don't know how to explain it, but everything makes no sense at that point.

I can write down the normal formula with each incognita without a problem, but I can't go farther than that because everything is too confused. It's like looking at a language you don't know that uses an alphabet you can't read. You may or may not recognize some patterns, but if you don't know what you're reading, it's like not knowing anything at all.

The other day, my dad explained to me how a turboshaft engine works. Friendly reminder that my average grade in physics was 4/10, never got more than a 6.5/10, despite my best efforts (too many numbers, too many data I didn't know where to put).

Anyway, he explained how that thing works from a mechanical point of view. Did I understand it in its entirety? No. Could I put it into words here for you? Maybe. Could I "draw" it and explain what each part is and how it works from a mechanical pov (so, no data)? Yes, a hundred percent.

What I do is impress the general shape of something- words, images, anything- in my brain, and put it aside. When I need it, I go find it (my technique is to look left, then slightly upwards. That's how I see things in a better way) and just copy it.

Which, by the way, reminded me to say that I also mix up right and left, since I read this thing three times and only realised that I wrote the wrong direction just a second before posting it. This is why I only use the GPS on mute.

Anyway- of course, I don't have perfect visual memory (my grades surely show that), and it doesn't help in each and every situation, and it's also tiring.

But. What I'm great at it's echoic memory. I remember people's voices and what they say to me (out loud) perfectly. I remember my teachers' voices from kindergarten. The info usually fades after a while, but it lasts long enough for me to use it when I need it for a test, or something. And the tone, the characterization of each voice- I don't ever forget those. This is why I remember songs I've heard once, maybe twice, years and years ago. I just... do.

It's not like I have good memory. I forget people's faces, people's names, streets, everything. But only when I know that I won't necessarily need them, or when I could always ask for them again.

My visual and echoic memory kick in when I need info pronto.

Does that make any sense to you? Sorry for the long post aaaa!!

Edit: figured I should add more things that dyscalculia causes.

Plus, only talking about math and anything related to numbers that I know I'll have to elaborate in some way makes me physically sick. Some of my friends think it's funny, I don't, 'cause math anxiety isn't just "aaa I freeze in front of the blackboard", no, it's also (for the most part, too) something that- speaking personally- activates my fight or flight instinct. Imagine an anxiety attack, but not the GAD kind (I do have GAD so I know what I'm talking about), but more "I am in danger. The danger is caused by this. This is dangerous."

I skip numbers when I count (farewell number 7 and everything that ends with it), can't tell 4 and 7 apart without focusing hard, no perception of time, distance, weight, nor speed, I don't understand graphs nor know how to make them properly. Also, mundane events don't happen in the proper order because of me. Just earlier I turned the car off, left the car, reached my doorstep, realized I hadn't locked the car, went to check my bag for the keys, didn't find them, went back the car only to find that I'd even left the door open, and the keys in. Or, sometimes I grab a tissue, throw it away, and realize that I forgot to blow my nose. Etc.

This happens- I think- because the brain cannot comprehend what it's looking at, despite everyone around seems to understand what one's brain should understand as well. It's like when you're stuck in a dream where everyone's laughing and you don't know if they're laughing at you, or at something else. In dreams, you don't ask, you can't. You're frozen and just stick to what you're trying to do.

It works exactly like that.

[remindme2breathe]

It’s simple... said no one.. EVER

I’m here again! Just when I thought Tumblr would be a quick-lived fad. There’s something beautiful about having the freedom to express yourself. It’s always been my therapeutic weapon of choice. While most would benefit from over paying for a complete stranger to listen to the sad story of ‘why I’m here’, I get to do it for free. Thanks Tumblr, for giving me space to just SAY IT. 

I’m a mom. My life is complicated to the few that get to witness it, but to me, this chaos is my normal. Perhaps my mental state has convinced my emotional parts that this non-stop roller coaster is correct FOR ME. Not everyone is cut out for it. I have 4 beautiful children. Ready for the complexity? My eldest is from my first relationship, he was planned. In my mind, my first born child was my rock- the main reason I left my childish ways and grew. Because of him I finished college, left my former position as a Dj (yes, once upon a time, I WAS THAT COOL). I left car shows, clubs, parties for the unconditional love of my baby boy, a decision I never grew to hate. He filled a void in my soul I couldn’t have filled any other way, believe me I TRIED. In a few days he will be 18 years old, and although I am excited to watch him graduate, get his drivers license, and go to college- I am equally terrified. All his life.... wait... I have 3 other kids to tell you about! Put a pin in this! 

My second child, also a beautiful boy, was a surprise and a blessing! He is 14, has ADHD and has taught me how different siblings can be. While my first child was calm, never threw a fit, always listened, and was a book worm, this baby was the total opposite. Don’t get me wrong, he is definitely a good boy. Never been in trouble at school or any serious trouble at home. This little one I share with his dad, my second relationship, well, my first marriage to be precise (pin placed- I got you!). My litte boy has the biggest heart, super emotional kid. Loves odd information. If you wanna know about farts, cemeteries, old presidential facts, and anything youtube related, he’s the one to ask! This kid is an encyclopedia of useless information. I think it’s funny because all the information he’s stored in his genius brain and NONE OF IT benefits him with school. He struggles. All in all, we are really close and he knows that where his dad might be lacking, Mama has his back! (Side note: his dad is amazing! He loves this kid and this kid loves him- no shade)

My 3rd and 4th are not mine by blood, but the love I have for them is no different then what I feel for my own. Would this make us the modern day Brady bunch? The third one is 10 years old, she is the sweetest little thing! She is my boyfriends identical twin! The resemblance is uncanny! You would have thought he birthed her himself! All she needs is a mustache and beard! The arrangement between my boyfriend and his Ex has always been the same, he got them on the weekends, then every other week. Only that this little one decided she didn’t want to live with her mom anymore and preferred to live with us. There’s a story here, one I won’t tell at this moment... patience grasshopper! So, the 10 year old sweetie pie lives with us. 

The 4th little bitty is her mothers a MILLION%! Geez! Imagine that, waking up to watch an exact replica of your boyfriends ex running around your house... tell me what that feels like. She’s 9 years old and complete opposite of the 10 year old. She’s tougher, sassier, a little braver. In my house the 9 year old and my 14 year old are called THE BULLIES. They share a wing of my house on purpose. Since we share them with other parents we gave them a different wing for a variety of reasons. 1. They are like butt-cheeks: INSEPARABLE! 2. When their with their other parents that wing is shut down (a/c). 3. We kept the tiny gang away from the calmer kids. I don’t know what it is about those two, but they LOVE to annoy or antagonize the older ones. Anyway, this set up works for us. Clearly they are not aware of their title, this is just what we joke with between my boyfriend and I. We are equal opportunity labelers though, the older ones are ‘The Complainers’... any noise, if the kids breathe or laugh too loud they complain. 

Not bad for a second entry... had more to say then I thought. Before the BETTER MOMS come for me for labeling my kids, I feel it’s best your aware, I am writing for ME, not for you. I am writing to keep my sanity in the midst of the crazy I deal with. Welcome to my NORMAL. 

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issue 13

humansona time, hell yes

OH MAN I forgot about the stuff w/swerve and blurr oof

that panel of perceptor just saying random equations always kills me vhsdjhfkbjhksdfnka

also I love so much that they call perceptor ‘percy’ that's so cute

I love the implications here that people just Grab minibots and carry them around like luggage bc they are Tiny lmao

ohhhh my god I fuckgin love ‘I'm just wondering if there's time to expand my aura and cleanse the area of aggression’ ‘I...don't think so, drift’ hgbadjfjbaskdfs drift’s hippy nonsense delivered completely seriously pairs hilariously with his whole ‘violent guy with a bunch of swords’ thing lmao

also, IM NEVER OVER CYCLONUS SINGING TO TAILGATE, and also the security team mistaking it for cyclonus murdering tg hbhkjadfbjkhsdf cyclonus u icon

and tg looking at cyclonus all heart-eyes, omg 

drift showing rodimus how to swordfight...fellas.....

rodimus, being entirely ignorant to the irony in calling cyclonus and tailgate’s relationship strange when he and drift are Right There, being weird gay frat bros

did yall know, I love magnus so much. law dad

magnus saying ‘that's not even a word. id have heard of it’ about the word ‘relax’ is so funny god 

rodimus bribing swerve with a bar license to get magnus turnt is hbvhjakdbfhskf

never over rodimus portioning out drifts blood money to the crew for shore leave hubhjsdkhfdbjksd god 

despite tg lying about a good amount of his past, I feel like he rlly DOES see cyclonus as a link to a more familiar time, and that's a large reason why he’s so forgiving toward cyc

mannnn the stuff w/blurr and swerve is so depressing in retrospect. swerve is like, such a depressing character the more you think abt him vbhskjdhfbsk jesus

magnus trying to get in on the convo when swerve starts talking statistics oh magnus

idk what ‘the lube pits’ are but I Really do not want to know

‘the temple of the raging prism’ sounds fuckin bangin tho

I love seeing everyones humansona!! this art style is pretty simple, but I think it looks cute

rungs ‘human name’ being ‘mary sue’ lmaoooooo jro w/the self callout

also skids’ name being blank is a nice touch

still not over tg being a baby....poor guy

whirls humansona is so fuckgin good, also swerve looks like a hobbit

magnus basing his avatar on verity is so sweet ;_; I really should read all the wreckers stuff after I finish this reread

THE ABSOLUTE COMEDY OF MAGNUS JUST FUCKGIN PASSING OUT THE INSTANT THE ALOCHOL HITS...ICONIC

WHY would magnus accept a drink from whirl anyways lmao

tailgate is so cute

they rlly just left magnus facedown on the table and kept drinking huh. the irresponsibility....we love it

ARE YOU SURE THAT KILLMASTER IS DEAD, WHIRL? ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?

rung don't lie, froid is your nemesis

WHY do we never get to hear more about skids’ apparent beef with misfire

rewind calling the swerve/misfire This early, wow

literally Everyone abandoning swerve to deal with magnus hgbvhfjdskdfbhs I fucking love this issue man

GOD I LOVE MAGNUS SO MUCH!!!!!!!! he’s such an interesting and unique character and hhhh I love him and his development

like, he was probably the biggest surprise out of everyone who agreed to go on the quest - ostensibly it was to keep order on the lost light, but it would make sense that magnus would get tired of being the Only one who cares about that sorta stuff on board 

drunk magnus is such a delight oh my god

magnus rlly just wants everyone to be safe :( my daddddd

magnus: I love all my children equally...swerve, rodimus, [looks at smudged writing on hand] dirt

swerve: see, magnus, that’s where you’re wrong - I ALSO have crippling depression!

cant believe they bought rodimus a hat vhbhksdfhahsjkdf

HHHHH GOD I FORGOT ABT THATTTT when cyclonus goes bonkers in order to stop rewind from playing the ark 1 footage and inadvertently outing tailgate as a liar....AUGHHHHH THE FUCKING...THE FUCKING ROMANCE OF IT ALL

POOR MAGNUS LMAOOOO

oh rewind :( you should really wonder a little harder where chromedome is right now...oof

everyone jumping on magnus while he’s passed tf out is SO fucking funny 

RUNG, PLEASE, WE REALLY DONT NEED TO THINK ABOUT WHATS AROUND THE CORNER. REALLY DONT

hhhhhhhhhhh I love how cyclonus sat tailgate down and confronted him about lying, but did it privately and not in front of everyone - and he even saved tg from being exposed as a liar, too. AUGH 

I feel like cyclonus is kinda impressed at how effortlessly tg has managed to lie this whole time, and tbh it IS impressive, especially considering tailgate was basically teleported 6 million years into the future and has no idea how the world works anymore, but was still able to lie convincingly. even cyclonus only realized bc of his own past, and not until now

tailgate ;_; ;_; ;_; 

cyclonus: oh no...im soft

tailgate and cyclonus singing ye olde cybertronian tunes together...OUGHHHH my fucking heart bro mY FUCKING HEART.

on that note: the song ‘to noise making (sing)’ by hozier is literally about cygate. thank u for coming to my ted talk

UGH GOD SWERVE STOP MAKING ME SO SAD, ITS NOT EVEN THE SWEARTH ARC YET

magnus had to like, get the robot equivalent of a stomach pumping after that hvbskdjfbhskdf jesus they really did almost kill him huh

I consider this issue forshadowing bc it makes 100% sense that minimus would be a Mega Lightweight considering he’s like 3 feet tall

the real quest that swerve is participating in is ‘the quest to get friends’ and so far its going pretty badly. poor dude 

godddd the thing that says ‘next: Overlord!’ with a fucking exclamation point I DONT APPRECIATE THAT. 

OHO i forgot abt the canon fanfic at the end of this issue

rung kicking things off with some good ole bodily workings-based dread 

ok but being so awed by the construction of your species’ anatomy that you wanna fall on the floor in amazement? that's a whole ass mood and I do frequently stare at walls for long periods of time, thinking about the marvel that is the human body. so rung is valid 

FROID NAME DROP LMAO. also yet again, are you SURE he’s dead?? are you????

the name ‘froid’ cracked me up almost as much as ‘rigor morphis’ did when I first read this...robot-based science puns! woohoo!

rung rlly b out here thinking abt overlords lips.....

‘forced browsing is not the autobot way’ lmao skids

also fr tailgate defs thinks that whirls actually name is nutjob

the entire segment of cyclonus browsing and everyone watching him and commenting is just. golden

oh no. don't make me think of rewind and his tiny memory sticks that he carries around. I'm NOT READY

magnus’ brutal read on rodimus and the fact that he’s more suited, personality-wise, to wartime than peacetime? oof. love it

I ALSO love that a big part of this issue was magnus admitting, in less direct terms, that HE isn't made for the post-war life either - his strict adherence to the rules and constant vigilance isn't exactly the best mindset for peacetime, for him or the people under his command

magnus’s hatred of metaphors and similes and the like....hvbsdjkfbasjhdf I love him

MAGNUS ILY...he’s trying SO HARD cut him some slack. i think his jokes are. yeah!

oh goody this text used "rodimus’s" so I guess that's canonically correct and I haven't been using grammar incorrectly as I had feared 

rodimus sitting ON his desk and doodling on it...adhd icon

rodimus calling rung a psychotherapist, which was rung’s grounds for a nemesis hvbhjabfdskfnkks

rung: as I'm sure you know I take patient confidentiality VERY seriously

narrator: That Was A Lie 

AUGH this hurts...rung trying to get justice for red alert but rodimus is in on the overlord stuff :( ouch

so issue 13! I fucking love this issue. just some good ole funney space hijinks, with some nice relationship development for tg and cyc - plus a revelation about tailgate - and some characterization for swerve and magnus. plus we get to see humansonas, which is always fun. augh I love this comic, and I am SO not ready for the next few issues, good lord

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 15 - Back to school

Heya! I didn't really like the original prompt for day 15 (sorry...) so I went with this one instead :) Hope you enjoy some Mallard-McQuack family fluff! (feat a small appearance of one of my headcanons: Gosalyn has ADHD).

--

It's 6 am when you wake up, the pounding alarm dragging you away from your agitated sleep. Launchpad starts turning, grunting and moaning something unintelligible, so you quickly turn your alarm off before pressing a kiss to his forehead and caressing his cheek. It seems to do the trick, as he does something resembling a smile before falling back into slumber. You sigh, stretching your weary arms before getting up. It's far too early for you, and your body is sleepy and begging you to go back to bed, but you won't listen to it - not that it's used to you listening to begin with.

You make your way to the kitchen and brew some coffee to help your head get rid of the fog blurring your thoughts. The bitterness works its magic, and you finally start working on the reason you were up in the first place - breakfast. Breakfasts are usually simple in the Mallard-McQuack house: toast and eggs for you, cereal and bacon for Gosalyn, and sugary cereal with coffee for Launchpad.

However, today's a special day, so you're going all out. You take the box of cookies you baked yesterday from where you hid it, on top of the highest shelf. You had needed help from your boyfriend to hide them here, for the modest fee of one chocolate chip cookie, a small price to pay compared to the number Gosalyn would have gulfed down if you had left the box out in the open. You open the box, eat one of the cookies and are pleased to find they're still just the way you've left them yesterday, golden with dark chips, crunchy on the outside and tender in the middle. Satisfied, you put some of them in a plate, trying to make it look extra appetizing.

The next step is easy: grabbing oranges from the counter and squeezing them. The machine is a bit loud; Gosalyn is a heavy sleeper, so you're not afraid to wake her up, but you do hope LP won't be disturbed. Once the carafe is full, you put it in the fridge and then get on to making pancake batter, a recipe you've learned from your grandmother years ago and still remember clear as day.

You hum as you mix your preparation, the fresh ingredients combining in a soft batter, your wrist firm and flexible, and a smile on your beak. You've always liked cooking; well, you've always liked what keeps your hands busy, be it by sewing or cooking or, lately, tinkering with the gadgets LP has gotten you from one of his friends - Fenton? yeah, that's the guy's name - but cooking is special. There's something almost magical in seeing the pleasure with which the people you cook for eat what you've poured so much love into making for them. It’s something you had forgotten, but that feeling had rushed back when seeing your boyfriend and your daughter's merry faces after eating the simple mac and cheese you had cooked on the day Gosalyn had officially become Gosalyn Mallard.

(She insists on calling herself “Gosalyn Mallard-McQuack”, and even though it's not going to be official before a few months, several papers and a wedding ceremony, neither you nor LP correct her.)

There's a spring in your step as you put the batter on the side of the counter and make your way towards your room. You carefully walk to the bed and you gently pet your boyfriend's head, before kissing him on top of his beak and whispering:

“Good morning, babe.”

LP opens an eye, then the other, before lazily grinning at you. He throws his arms around your waist, and before you know it, you're sprawled on top of him in a tight hug. Your heart can't help but flutter like a high school girl's, which would be embarrassing if it was because of anyone else. But it's because of Launchpad McQuack, Duckburg's kindest duck, everybody's friend and, most importantly, your boyfriend, so it doesn't count.

“'morning Drake.” he mumbles, still half asleep.

As much as you'd happily stay in his embrace all day long, you have some important stuff to do today, so you give him a peck on the bill and untangle your limbs from his.

“We'll have all the time you want for a hug later, LP, but you gotta get up now. Today's special, remember?”

You stand up, and you clearly see the realization hitting him all at once, his eyes widening and a strangled gasp leaving him as he sits up.

“AAAAH!!! Today's Gos' first day of school!!” he yelps. “Nice to see you remembered.” you tease him, amused by the embarrassment across his face. “Don't worry, I, of course, took care of everything, you just have to go in the kitchen and wait for us.” “Sure thing!”

You fondly look at your boyfriend jumping out of bed, and then you walk to your daughter's room. You make sure to knock twice before going in, and sure enough, you find her sleeping deeply, her small chest rising and falling with every breath. Something tightens in your throat, and you sit on her bed, overwhelmed by the sheer love overflowing you. You reach for her head and soothingly pet the ginger strands, and for what must be the thousandth time since you've adopted her, you thank your lucky stars that the duckling was put on the quite lonely road of your life.

“Hey, honey.” You speak softly, your fingers still petting her head. Gosalyn groans a little in her sleep, but before she has a chance to turn around, you speak a bit louder: “Gos, it’s time to wake up.” “Hmmm… five more minutes…” “No can do, honey, not today.”

You feel a little guilty at denying her request - the kid is very good at weaponizing guilt, even when she’s not fully awake. You get up and open the curtains, letting sunlight reach inside her room. Gosalyn growls a bit and tries to cover her eyes with her arms, but you’re faster and grab her wrists gently:

“Ah-ah, young lady! Not on my watch.” “But daaaad!” your daughter whines theatrically. “I’m tired!” “Well, that’s on you for staying up past your curfew yesterday.”

Gosalyn grumbles, but she sits up and stretches her arms. Satisfied, you give her a small peck on the forehead before heading downstairs, loudly announcing you’re going to make the pancakes and that she’d better join you quick if she doesn’t want LP eating all of them.

-----

Breakfast went great, as expected. You have quickly glanced at the clock after Gosalyn had put her fork down, gasping when you had realized you only had twenty minutes left before the bus arrives. (Launchpad has kindly offered to take Gos to school with his car, but you have declined. You’re not exactly sure that it would be good for the kid’s first day at school to start with a crash.)

Gosalyn is upstairs, brushing her teeth and listening to some weird CD Lena’s lent her. She’s trying to sing as she’s cleaning her teeth, which means you’ll probably have to scold her for getting toothpaste all over the bathroom’s mirror again, but that’s not the most important thing right now.

“Do you need help, DW?” Launchpad asks, standing behind you and startling you.

You loudly curse as the knife you were using slips and you cut your finger on the edge of the sharp blade. Thankfully, the cut isn’t too deep nor too big, so it’s not a life threatening emergency this time.

“Oops, sorry.” your boyfriend apologizes, looking embarrassed. “You need a band aid? Antiseptic? Or-” “I’ll go get that, LP, just finish preparing Gos’ lunch.” you mutter, at first glaring daggers at Launchpad and then softening your gaze after only seconds.

LP nods, and you rush to the bathroom. Your boyfriend is… not exactly the best at cooking, but he knows how to pack sandwiches and cookies, so it’ll be enough for today. You feel kind of weird when you climb up the stairs, as if something is missing. And you soon understand why, when you step inside the bathroom – your daughter isn’t singing anymore.

Instead, you find Gosalyn sitting on the edge of the bathtub, looking downwards and kicking her legs. You know that posture, and you don’t need words to understand just how anxious your daughter is feeling at the moment. You sit right next to her, and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She leans into you, before getting up and giving you a tight hug, her face buried in your chest, messy ginger strands tickling your beak.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” you ask, patting her back. “… dad, what if things… go bad, at school?” her muffled voice reaches you. “What do you mean? Me and LP have run a background check on all of your teachers, and-” “No, dad. What if the other kids…”

Your heart sinks as you finally understand why your usually cheerful girl means. Gosalyn isn’t known to really care about what other people think of her; the duckling is unapologetically herself, and you couldn’t be a prouder father. But at the same time, you know just how rough things have been for her lately, between her grandfather’s death, being kidnapped by an old enemy of her beloved grandfather, and being adopted. Her life has been quite hectic, and it’s normal for her to feel a bit disorientated.

Besides, she’s going to find herself in yet another unfamiliar place again. Sure, she’s going to the same school as the triplets LP has introduced her to a few days ago, but Gosalyn is as stubborn as you and has the same tendency to hate relying on others. On top of that, it’s been three years since she’s last been to school, given that her orphanage had its own classes. It’s also going to be her first time going to school with the help of her ADHD medication, and you can easily see why that could scare her, for a number of reasons.

So you take a deep breath, and you speak as gently as you can:

“Gosalyn Mallard-McQuack. Look at me.”

Surprised to hear you use the name she chose for herself, Gosalyn lifts her head and takes a small step back. You move your arms from around her back to let your hands rest on her shoulders, and you look at her with all the determination and love you can gather.

“It doesn’t matter what the other kids think of you. What does matter is that you stay true to yourself, and that you’re proud of yourself. And if the others don’t like you – well, sucks to be them, because they’re missing out on the bravest, most clever, most wonderful friend they could wish for.” “Dad…”

You ignore the way your eyes fill up with tears, or the slight quiver in your voice as you continue:

“Go show the world what you’re made of. Don’t look down, don’t apologize for being who you are. Show them all how bright you shine!” “Thank you, dad!” she yells as she gives you yet another hug, her wet bill pressed against your chest. “I’ll make you and LP proud!”

You can’t help but laugh as you return her hug. You suddenly hear a sniffing sound, which abruptly brings you back to reality, and you find Launchpad standing in front of you, wiping his eyes and holding a brown paper bag.

“That was so sweet…” he cries. “You’re so lucky to have each other, and I’m so lucky to have you…” he stops for an instant, reaching for his pocket from where he fishes a tissue, before continuing: “…but the bus is here, so-” “What?!  Come on, Gos, you’re gonna be late!”

You snap Gosalyn’s lunch from Launchpad’s hands, and the three of you dash down the stairs, making your way to the living room. Your daughter puts her favourite sneakers on - the ones that light up when she clicks her heels - Launchpad grabs her backpack, and you make your way to the small room where your and LP’s impressive Darkwing Duck memorabilia collections are displayed. You smile fondly in front of one of the shelves, before grabbing the only object displayed on it. You brush your thumb on it, gently, the memories fondly rushing back to you as your fingers follows the dips of the mark your face left in the cheap metal.

“DAAAAD!” Gos’ shout reminds you what you intended to do in the first place, and you run to the front door, where she’s waiting for you, backpack on her shoulders and a weeping LP holding her hand. “Sorry, had to get you a proper lunch box.” you smile as you hand her the old box.

Her eyes widen when her hands hesitantly wrap around the handle. She looks at you, mouth hanging open, as if to ask permission, as if to ask if this is really happening. She knows the story behind the seemingly wonky Darkwing Duck lunchbox – of course she does. You’ve told her ten, maybe twenty times, and every time she’s rolled her eyes or teased you a little. But today, Gosalyn’s hands are shaking under the heavy weight of what you’ve entrusted her with. Her fingers caress the dented surface of the box, just like yours have moments ago.

LP has the same look of disbelief on his face, but it’s quickly replaced by an impossibly fond expression as he watches both of you, not daring to interrupt the almost solemn silence hanging in the room.

Gosalyn finally snaps out of her trance-like state, and she almost steps outside, but before she starts running towards the yellow bus angrily honking, she embraces you in a last hug, and her words are barely audible:

“Thank you for everything, Dad.”

You proudly smile as your pat her back and watch her dashing towards the bus, not letting your eyes leave her until the bus has left and moved far, far away. And even then, you don’t move, your heart still beating insanely fast. Launchpad wraps a shaky arm around you, and you lean into his strong frame.

Everything will be okay, for you, for them. And in fact, Drake Mallard has probably never felt prouder or happier.

-----------------------------------

Hope you liked that cheesiness! I tried to stay true to Drake's character, although maybe I made him too soft... tell me what you thought of him! Also wrote in 2nd person once more, it's fun to do.

[crazedlunatic]

Blaine and Nick’s Day Out

 “YAY YAY YAY! I hate being stuck in the house!” Nick cheered, clambering into the back seat of Blaine’s car. “This is the longest summer ever, Dad.”

“Well, once school starts back you’ll be saying it was he quickest summer ever.” Blaine said, turning and watching to make sure Nick buckled his seat belt.

“I’m gonna do it.” Nick said impatiently.

“I know but I’m verifying.” Blaine said—this was their routine. Nick would protest, huff that he didn’t need to be observed, but would eventually do it.

Nick clicked his belt in and then blinked at Blaine with big hazel eyes. “Can we go now?”

“Where do you want to go? Taylor’s bookstore first?”

“I dunno. Maybe last because Grampa bought me and Zachy books last weekend when we were out with him. Something better might come up.”

Blaine snorted. “We can still go to the bookstore even if we do something better first.”

“YAY!” Nick clapped.

“I wish he’d take me and buy me all the books.” Blaine pouted—teasingly, of course.

Sweetly enough, any time Blaine took a vacation from work Bob always did give him a gift card to a bookstore… or even if it was just a Visa one, Blaine always knew what it was for (and that Bob probably hadn’t had time to make it to an actual bookstore). Whether flying or driving to the spot, Kurt never let him drive… so books were helpful. Especially when the kids were asleep and he could actually concentrate.

“He says he spends enough on you at work on your lunches, Dad.” Nick giggled and kicked out his legs. “Did you know Gramma and Grampa are taking Zachy and I to see a soccer game with Miles?”

“Did you know Brady used to play soccer?”

“Yeah! You did too! And Sammy played baseball and Grampa played basketball and Daddy was a cheerleader and did football.”

��Well Daddy didn’t do either very long.” Blaine corrected. “Remember? He mostly sang at glee club.”

“Oh yeah! His voice is pretty.” Nick tilted his head. “Ryan says boys voices don’t usually sound pretty but he likes Daddy’s voice and thinks it’s pretty too. And Ryan’s mommy and daddy are really nice to me and Zach and I got confused.”

“What did you get confused about?” Blaine laughed.

“Well we were talking about soccer and now we’re talking about this and this happens to me a lot.” Nick rambled.

“You told me about Gramma and Grampa taking you to a soccer game. I think he did tell me. That’s very nice of him.” Blaine said although he knew for a fact that it was happening—Bob always ran stuff by he and Kurt before mentioning it to the boys (even though they had both assured him he didn’t need to do that).

“Yeah it’s ‘cause he’s a grampa.” Nick nodded.

“So… what do you want to do today?”

“Uhmmm…” Nick looked thoughtful. “Did you know Matt is my teacher? You did, right?”

“Yes.” Blaine laughed. Because Nick was always distracted—although he didn’t have ADHD supposedly. Kurt and Blaine weren’t so sure they believed that. “He has been for three months, Pooh Bear.”

“Yeah. I like him as a Matt and as a teacher Matt.” Nick shrugged. “He even has a little couch and we all take turns sitting on it when he reads and then we do art and at recess he’ll play with everyone too. Even the mean kids. Oooh, and Adrian made us all cookies and read a book once. It was awesome.”

Blaine turned in his seat to look back at him and smiled. “Decided where we’re going first yet?”

“Fire museum ‘cause I wanna be a fireman!” Nick exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. “Fire museum!”

“We went a couple of months ago. Are you sure you don’t want to do something new?”

“No! Fire Museum and… and then the ferry because I love it so muuuuch and then the art museum and then Auntie Taylor!” Nick clapped and then added slowly, “Please?”

“That might be a tall order. It’s a good thing I know you and left at eight in the morning for this very reason.” Blaine laughed.

…

“So don’t forget we have to see how many Snoopy and Charlie Brown’s we can find.” Blaine said, leading Nick into the Children’s Museum of the Arts.

Zach wasn’t too much into art but on Daddy Day Outs, Nick and Sophie both asked often to go. Not only could you see other children’s art and cool exhibits (which Sophie loved), you could also make your own art and do your own projects (which Nick loved).

Mostly, Blaine got a kick out of seeing some ridiculous art that you could only love because it came from a kid.

“Dad, what does that say?” Nick asked, pointing of a mural of Snoopy and a tall yellow figure behind a red box.

“It says ‘Psychiatric help % cents’ on the top and says ‘The doctor is out’ on the bottom.”

“But, Dad, Snoopy is there. So he’s not out.” Nick pointed out.

“Maybe Lucy is the doctor today?”

“So, he’s the fake doctor?” Nick asked, looking confused. He then exclaimed, “LEGOS!”

Blaine smiled as a few of the worker’s laughed. Nick was always making people crack up in public—and in private, too. “Look at all of those postcards kids drew. Want to see?”

“Nah. I just want to get messy.” Nick shrugged. “Can we go to the clay bar? And the south booth? But not the quiet room because it’s scary.”

Blaine laughed loudly. “They won’t even let you step in there anymore, Nicky.”

“Yeah but Zachy likes it in there.”

“Do you still love soccer?” Blaine asked.

“Duh. I’m gonna be like you only better ‘cause I’m not going to quit after school. I’m gonna do it forever!” Nick nodded eagerly.

“That’s a lot of soccer but you’re really good, so I’m sure you can do it.” Blaine smiled, steering him into the clay room.

There were already a couple of kids in there, but Nick went to a spot where there weren’t people and struggled to get onto the bench.

Blaine scooped him up, placed him in the seat, and then sat next to him.

“I don’t think Zachy likes it as much as I do.”

“No. I think you’re right but he still wants to play for now.” Blaine nodded as Nick pulled over several colors of clay, beginning to create… something?

“Sometimes people are mean to him and it’s stupid. Just ‘cause he’s quiet doesn’t mean it’s bad.” Nick said. “That’s what Grampa said… and Grandpa.”

“But you take up for him.”

“Yeah ‘cause he and Ryan are my best friends.” Nick nodded eagerly.

“Ryan’s nice to him?” Blaine asked—he assumed, but it never hurt to ask.

“Duh!” Nick gave him a very ‘Kurt’ look. “Dad, if Zach looks like you and Sophie looks like Daddy, why do I look like me?”

“Because not everybody can look the same or it’d be pretty boring.” Blaine shrugged.

“Sometimes kids ask me and I don’t know what to say.” Nick mimicked his shrug. “I look like my mom, don’t I?”

“Yeah.” Blaine said after hesitating.

“Ryan says we probably know her. Do we?”

“Why don’t we talk about that when you’re a little bit older?” Blaine asked. “You do know her but she’s not really your mom. Remember? She helped carry you so Daddy and I could have and love you.”

“Does she not love me?” Nick looked confused.

“Not in the way Daddy and I love you.” Blaine said, grabbing some clay of his own.

“And she can’t take me away?”

“No. No, no, no.” Blaine shook his head. “You are mine and Daddy’s. Same with Zachy and Sophie… but this day is supposed to be all about you. Nobody else.”

“Is it kinda like you and Grampa?”

“Mmmmh…. Well, not exactly.” Blaine said. “Because Grampa and Gramma adopted me but the person who carried you just did that for us. So, you’re ours. It’s a little different from adoption.”

“But you get to keep us all, right?”

“If someone tried to take you away, Nicky, they would bring you back.” Blaine laughed. “Sorry to break it to you.”

“That’s rude.” Nick pouted. “Can we go see Auntie Taylor now? And can we get cheesecake and not tell Daddy?”

“What? Do you want him to kill me? Blaine laughed, setting the clay he’d been messing with back on the table and standing.

“No! It’ll be our secret!” Nick looked at him like he was insane. (Try and tell Blaine that Nick didn’t take after Kurt—he dared you.)

“You don’t know what a secret is, Nicky.” Blaine laughed, leading him out of the museum.

“Cheesecake?”

“Fine. Just don’t tell Sophie either, okay? I don’t know what it is with Hummels.”

“Can you not tell Daddy that I asked about our mom?” Nick asked as Blaine held open the back door of his car for Nick to climb into.

“I think we’ll all have a talk about it soon, okay?” Blaine asked, bending and kissing the top of his head.

“You guys never keep secrets.” Nick sighed.

“Nope. Sorry.” Blaine smiled. “But you knew that when you told me.”

“Yeah.” Nick nodded. “Can I at least get an extra book for my trouble?”

“Are you sure you aren’t Kurt’s?”

Nick giggled.

[k1ngtok1]

This is my story, made into Leo’s:

This story is based on what I went through becoming a T1D. I was diagnosed sometime between June 22 and 23, 2018. I didn’t have people to help me until it was very late in the day, when my doctor father decided that enimas and constipation medicine were not helping. During the day, the only people that took notice of me were my stepmom, who cooked and gave me water when I asked, and my sister, who only helped because you can’t play Minecraft with someone dying of dehydration in the background. In the story, Piper is taking the place of my mom once they get to the infirmary, and Jason is my dad the whole story. (I didn’t include Calypso for some reason).The stuffed animals are all real (franks present isn’t). They came from my grandparents, sister, moms ex boyfriend, and my 4th grade teacher. The teddy bear was my dads. Friends would visit, my grandpas girlfriend would wheel me around the hospital. A friend, not a close one, watched me cry while getting a shot. The whole experience is jumbled and blurry, everything is out of order. We go to the meeting then home where I stay until the next day, where I feel pressured enough by my diabetic step-grandpa to give my own shot, my friends come over and swim.The End. I didn’t get as much support as Leo did in this, I’m always the one comforting and not getting comforted. I felt a little alone and abandoned, still do. I rediscovered this series in the middle of the school year, and instantly I felt a connection to Leo. He looks like me if he was a girl and had strait hair. I have the same ADHD, the same urge to create, to help others, and now, we both have a bad past, and it stays with us in some way. His flame and my condition. He is the only one that I know that has suffered like I have. I buried myself in stories about this person like me, and I felt like there was someone who understood me. Someone pushed away by others. Who is happy on the outside but not that much inside. Someone who even in a group of accepting friends, feels like they are the outsider, like they aren’t good enough. I found myself in Leo (plus my best friend is a Leo clone with glasses). I wanted to tell my story, so I did it using the story character that was in the same boat as me. I wanted to explain what it really feels like to be burdened, by both yours and other’s problems. So here’s my story, molded into Leo’s.

When Leo woke up, he knew something was seriously wrong with him. His throte was dry as a bone. His stomach felt like Godzilla and the kraken were having a wrestling match. He tried to move but found he didn’t have the energy to. He curled into a little ball and let out a pained moan. 

 “Buford” he called out in a weak voice. The table immediately scuttled over to see what was wrong with his friend.

 “Please, bring me water, and Pipes” he choked out, before promptly dozing off.  

Buford obediently hurried along the path to camp. He was worried Leo had worked himself too hard. He found Piper sitting with Jason, having lunch. If Leo had slept this long, there must have been something wrong with him, as he was always anxious to work on his projects. Buford head butted (or table butted) Piper. 

 “What? Oh hey Buford! What’s wrong?”

 Buford thought of a way to communicate on the way here, he dug one of his legs into the wet dirt.

 “What are you doing?” Piper asked. 

 Buford continued to drag his legs through the dirt. 

 “I think he’s trying to tell us something. Look!” Exclaimed Jason. 

 The table had written a message saying ‘bring water, Leo needs you’ in the soft earth. 

 Piper’s eyes immediately shot open with worry. Before anyone could say anything, she grabbed her magic glass from the table and sprinted towards the woods. Buford and Jason ran to catch up to her. 

 Upon arrival, they heard groaning noises. It was like someone was in pain. 

“Leo” muttered Piper, before running inside.

 Leo was curled into a little ball. Now an important thing to know is that when someone goes through what Leo is, they tend to get delirious. They may imagine scenes from a book they have read, with them in it or as the main character. Leo had just read ‘heir apparent’ and was (still in pain mind you) imagining how he was crowned king. In his mind all he had to do was sit on the throne, and the pain would go away. He was utterly confused when it didn’t.

 Meanwhile Piper was shaking Leo. He finally snapped out of his daze (if only a little bit).

 “I’m hallucinating” said Leo “go get Will and the others please.” 

 It pained her to she her little brother like this. She tore herself from the bed, leaving Leo the glass of water, which he gladly took a sip of. Jason was sitting next to him on the bed, helping him drink as he was too weak to do it on his own. 

 “I’ll be right back” said Piper, “take care of Leo”

 Leo was moaning and muttering incoherent nonsense. This frightened Jason, he had never seen Leo as anything other that calm and thinking strait. He sat on the bed next to Leo, casually petting his hair as Leo cuddled up to him. Leo did not look content, though. He looked as though he was going to throw up. Piper chose that moment to bust through the door, Will, Hazel, Frank, Percy, Annabeth and Nico trailing behind. 

 “What’s going on?” Demanded Will rushing to Leo’s side.

 “I don’t know.” Replied Jason “Buford guided us to him, he was like this when we got here. He said he was hallucinating before he fell asleep.” 

 Will took Leo’s hand. His eyes widened almost comically. “We need to get him to the infirmary, NOW! He’s going into kinoacidosis, his blood sugar is through the roof! He might be T1D!” 

 Nobody knew what the hades Will was talking about except for Nico. His face paled as Frank scooped up Leo and everyone raced through the door. He had enough experience in the infirmary, and had a medical genius as a boyfriend, of course he knew what T1D was! But he didn’t tell anyone as they were already worried enough. 

 After racing through camp with campers gathering around the infirmary, Leo had woken up. However, he was in an extreme delirious state. 

 “We need a gurney STAT!” Yelled Will. “Someone get me an IV and insulin!” 

 All of a sudden, while still on the gurney, Leo bucked his hips upward and screamed “WATER” at the top of his lungs. This happened many times before he was wheeled to the intensive care section and fully woke up. 

 The 7 were worried as the doctors fussed around Leo, he thinks they gave him shots and an IV, but he couldn’t be sure as is brain was picking and choosing what moments to process. He didn’t notice the tiny flames in this hair that needed to be put out.

 Leo fell asleep and woke up many times. Each time a nurse would ask him the year, his birthday, and who was president. Leo answered the questions, and as he was about to go into a rant on how much he despises Trump, the nurse left. He passed out for good after repeating this many times. 

 When Leo came too, he found himself in a closed off section of the infirmary. All of his friends plus his siblings were standing against the wall at the foot of the bed. Leo could bearly move. 

 “Where am I?” He managed to croak out. 

 Piper looked up from where she was staring at the floor. “Oh gods Leo! You scared us all to death! You’re in the infirmary, you went into diabetic kino asidosis, you’re lucky to be alive. 30 more minutes and you would have died!” Piper sobbed against his chest.

 “Wait a minute!” Leo said as loud as he could, which wasn’t very loud, “can someone explain what is happening to me?” 

 Will decided that was a good moment to walk in “You’re awake! I’m assuming you want to know what’s going on?” 

 Leo nodded his head. 

 “You went into diabetic kino asidosis, which means that your body did not have enough insulin, causing ketones to form. Ketones destroy fat as fuel, instead of using regular sugar.” 

 “Okay, but why don’t I have any insulin in my body?” Questioned Leo. 

 “Have you been having stomach pains? Has it been hard to eat sugary foods?”  

Leo thought back to during the past 2 months. “yes” he replied. 

 “Your blood sugar has been high for over these two months, maybe even longer. The young adult body is very strong, but even it gives out at some point. Your pancreas some time around 2 months ago was attacked by other cells in your body that saw it as a threat. I don’t mean to be so blunt but” he took a deep breath. “you are a juvenile diebetic now, otherwise known as a type one diabetic. This is the type where it is permanent, so unless new technology or cures come out, or you happen to strike a deal with a god, you will have to use an insulin pump for the rest of your life.” He finished. 

 Leo didn’t really take it all in. Only later did he really understand what all this really ment. His friends and siblings were all in tears. They all came over and gently gave home a group hug, as if he were made of glass.

 ~Line break ~  

After 3 days in the infirmary. They let him eat for the first time. 

 “Okay, your meal had 53 carbs in it, your correction factor is 1/15. How many units do you take if your blood sugar is also 157?” 

Asked Will with his clip board out. Only Piper and Jason were in the room, with Leo of course. 

 “‘Bout 5 units” said Leo with his mouth full of food. 

 “Good, I’m going to go get the syringe now,” Leo almost choked on his food. 

“Wait what?!” Leo started freaking out. “No one said anything about needles!” 

Piper and Jason were doing their best to console the panicked Latino, who was doing his best to keep from crying. Leo had a huge fear of needles from some bad experiences while he was on the run. He was starting to panic until Piper soothed him with her charmspeak. Will walked in with a syringe, vial and alcohol wipe. 

 “Everything will be fine Leo” said Piper, as Will began to prep the syringe with insulin. 

 “Hey Piper?” Leo started. 

 “Yes?” She replied. 

 “Can I like, hold your side and hug you” Leo asked, close to tears. 

 “Of course.” She replied, “you don’t have to ask.” 

Leo snuggled into Piper’s side. Will lifted up Leo’s sleeve and wiped his upper arm with alcohol. He was put off by the scars on his arm, but he did not want to ask incase it panicked the Fire user further. He injected the needle with a small wimpier and sob from Leo. 

 “It’s okay Leo, it’s over.” Consoled Piper. Leo backed up a little and snuggled into the blanket that Annabeth and Percy got him. He held the stuffed owl that he received from Harley. Around him were others, such as the the fluffy brown dog holding a smaller dog from Hazel, the spherical squishy dog from Piper and Jason. Frank gave him his thoughts and prayers, at which Leo laughed and Hazel smacked the shapeshifters arm. And lastly, the small teddy bear, so worn you would never be able to guess it used to be fluffy. Nyssa used to be the only one who knew about it. It was the only thing that he managed to escape the fire with. It used to be his mother’s and she gave it to him. He asked Nyssa to bring it to him, and was surprised his friends didn’t judge him when he told them the story. 

 Leo promptly fell asleep. While in the hospital, he took frequent naps. He once woke up and described what he did the previous day, to find out that it happened 20 minutes ago! To be fair, he was still the tiniest but delusional still, his mind still slightly addled. 

 Piper sat down in one of the chairs next to the bed, exhausted. She has yet to leave Leo’s side. She has been sleeping in the bed with him, resulting in being woken up for a nurse to draw blood or test his blood sugar. Jason would come and go, letting the two honorary siblings be alone. She rested her head on the bed, holding Leo’s hand. A few minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt , right? 

 ~Line break ~

 It was Leo’s last day in the infirmary, well, day in the hospital part of the infirmary. He still needed to go to a meeting with a nurse to be taught more about his condition and how to handle it. Leo sat in his original clothes, returned by the nurses. His room was bare except for a wagon full of his stuff, to be hauled to his cot in bunker 9. Piper took the wagon to drop it off, as he and the rest of his friends accompanied him to the big house for his meeting. 

Leo knew most of this stuff, like how to use his insulin pen and how to dispose of needles. He mostly fiddled around with a few rubber bands and metal scraps from his tool belt. This meeting was mostly for his ‘family’, so they could understand what they were getting in to. On the bright side, he got a stuffed lion with pads where he could practice giving injections!

 After the meeting, he spent the day in the more populous areas of CHB. He wanted to be somewhere not all cramped after being in his room for a week, save for a few short walks. During lunch and dinner, and before bed, he had Nyssa give him his shots in the arm after he checked his sugar and ate. 

 He had a few times where he went low. It was the worst. He was shaken and could hardly walk, as his legs felt like cooked noodles. He couldn’t build when he shook! Luckily, he didn’t die, so it’s all good.

 The next day, he wanted to gain control over his disease. He decided he would finally give himself his own shot. After assuring the rest of the gang, who were very apprehensive about giving Leo Valdez any sort of sharp object, Leo managed to slowly sink the short needle into his leg and push the end. His friends were all very proud. They gave him a group hug. For a moment, Leo forgot that anything was wrong, he forgot about his condition, his newfound problem. All that mattered is that if he could find a way to come back from the dead, he could manage to survive another disorder.

[oversensitiveandoffputting]

Okay, so,

I’m really worried that by publishing this I’m doing something irresponsible because there’s a lot of people in general who need serious mental health help and I don’t want people to become cynical or anything buuuuuuuuuut I’m just so frustrated because it’s like, near impossible to find a therapist that’s respectful of me. Almost all therapists are white, straight/cis, have some kind of conventional religious belief, and if they got something diagnosable, they sure as shit won’t let you know.

So my therapy journey began when my parents divorced and it was court-mandated. I went to, like, six different therapists with my sister and didn’t say a fucking word because I was intimidated into not getting treatment by my parents. It was messed up. Ironically, my mother’s a psychologist and I was raised in an environment that praised mental health treatment. don’t know. You don’t want to know my childhood. We’d be here for weeks.

And most therapists WANT to do well. They didn’t spend all that time and money for no reason. And they met me and made me feel welcome and we talked and I knew they were trying their best, they really were, but there was always that THING that kept me from getting what I needed. WANTing to do well and DOING well are two different things.

I’m AFAB. Despite most therapists being women, they don’t seem to know women very well. (Or, those of us who let them think of us as women until we finally correct them.)

And I guess I’m always the second queer person they meet? I say second because they need that first person to compare me to and decide I measure up short. I’ve had therapists tell me to stay in the closet because my life would be better. I have a same-sex fiancé. I’m not fucking shitting you. In 2019 I was told to stay in the closet. I should have known after she told me about all the gay friends she had she was a raging homophobe.

So after I’m done rolling my eyes and being way too patient about paying someone to ask very rude questions about my sexual awakening and how I found myself being genderqueer and how much of an ally they are before they reveal to me they haven’t done any research into queer theory into anything past 1980, then we get to the neurodiversity issues.

I can forgive people being insensitive about me being queer. It’s annoying but I’ve dealt with it enough that I can leave, laugh about it with people, and let it go as ignorance does not equal malice. But then I never meet the criteria to get the help I SPECIFICALLY ASK FOR because I’m not a difficult enough patient. I’m nice, I tell them everything they want to know without hesitating, minimal tears, and so I can’t be autistic. I can’t be ADHD. I can’t have BPD. I can’t have PTSD. We don’t focus on labels here. We just focus on trauma. And it’s even worse when they find out I’m a psych student, since then they tell me I’m a hypochondriac and to knock it off.

And I’m practically SCREAMING “I’ve done this. I’ve done this over and over. I don’t need an eighth retread over how my mother’s abuse left me with major abandonment issues. I know this. Just please help me not burn every bridge I have (BPD). Or how I can feel safer in the workplace while being ADHD/autistic since discrimination is very real. Or how I can stop focusing so much on my trauma and using it to define me as a person (PTSD). But I never get that. We never get there. They just keep talking over me because I’m traumatized and I’m like “Thank you. Can we move on now?” “No. Tell me more about how your dad was blaming you for acting out while your mother was driving you up the wall with behavior so fucked up people have cried after you told them?”

The fact I’m not a difficult enough patient to demand to be treated better is probably a trauma response to years of feeling unsafe and unheard, which you’d think they’d figure out. Being a therapist.

And I’m so frustrated because when someone is saddled with all kinds of trauma and problems and exhaustion from these issues should not have to go through all this effort to find out who is in their network for their individual problems, go to several appointments they either are paying for out-of-pocket or are being charged to their insurance and, if they have really good insurance, will be free, only to find out women can’t have autism because they don’t meet the checklist in the DSM for white male children (I’m being facetious, of course women can be autistic), they’re not queer enough, and holy shit I’m white so I can’t even imagine what POC must go through with some of these idiots.

And now I’m worried because I’m trying. I have EIGHT diagnoses and I’m trying and trying and trying and I can afford to leave therapists that make me uncomfortable and find a new one and I’m a psych student and raised in an environment where I understand the jargon so it’s a lot harder to pull the wool over my eyes and I’m fueled by literal spite towards everything and everyone, especially myself, so I will drag my exhausted, emotional ass to whatever therapist I found this week that I think won’t emotionally slap me in the face to keep trying to not let this get the better of me and FUCK I’m still not satisfied.

So...why are we telling everyone who has mental health issues to go seek therapy when it might just make the problem worse because god forbid they say “I’m gay” and the therapist says, “That’s nice, but maybe you shouldn’t tell people that because it’s such personal information” and they don’t immediately see right through it, fire her, and find someone else?

I don’t have a solution. If you have a therapist that works for you, I’m so, so happy. If you’re still looking, Same. And don’t feel bad, I guess. I’d even go as far as to try unconventional methods. Getting on medication and getting a dog have done WONDERS for my mental health. Go into a session GRILLING them about their competency with your issues and if you’re not comfortable, never go back. But JESUS therapists have to get continuing education to keep their license for a reason. Can a couple of those classes be “How to not spit in the face of your queer clients?” And “neurodiversity- not a plague and not just for boys.’ Please??? As well as I’m sure a shit ton of other cultural competency classes I’m positive are needed? Please? This is ridiculous. This is fucking ridiculous. This could be a Family Guy episode if so many lives weren’t at stake.

[docholligay]

OW Lena and her family love the Oxtons

HI this is 1500 words of REALLY INDULGENT GARBAGE but honestly, THANK, this is like hamburger dripping down my chin levels of personal delight and satisfaction. I AM GOING TO MAKE DINNER NOW, but I’ll do at least a few more. 

Tracer often considered, in her life, that a great deal of her happiness was a gift from her family.

It wasn’t that tragedy never fell upon the Oxtons–during the Omnic Crisis, her grandmother had been known for proclaiming that every hundred years, they flattened the East End just to hold down the noise, and there wasn’t a single generation who hadn’t lost someone to service–but when the foundation is strong, you can rebuild the rest of the house, and the Oxtons were built of strong stuff.

Her aunt, Annie, callsign Castor, had been a genuine hero, and even as a little girl, Tracer remembered looking up at her large portrait painted on the wall of the RAF museum, describing in detail how she had saved her entire squad and won the day with her own life.

“The world can always be made better, my little Lena,” her father had said, holding her hand and looking up at the image of his twin, “but we must decide what we’re willing to give for it. Comfort, your job–Annie was willing to give it all, in that one moment,” he picked her up and put her on his hip, “Did you know you remind me of ‘er sometimes?”

She’d looked up at the picture of Annie and thought for a moment, wondering how she could be like this hero.

“She was funny, and quick like you,” Bert said, answering the question she hadn’t asked, “And,” he tickled her as he teased, “a bit careless, right?”

Tracer had learned how to be good, at the hand of every family member that taught the lesson, in ways big and small.

Her aunt Lily was always ordered, at least for an Oxton, and folded Tracer easily in with her own children, and Tracer had never much felt like an only child, even if it was true. Lily helped her get her uniforms for the school season, and her husband Clive took get her hair clipped with their sons, and in general they helped Bert feel less like he was doing it on his own.

Tracer had felt wanted by everyone in her life, and it wasn’t until she was older that she realized how absolutely spoiled she had been by the vast amounts of love that surrounded her. That for all her family was simple and working-class, she had a wealth most people spent their entire lives searching for.

It was easier, when she came out, on account of her uncle Mark, the one who wore all the ugliest sweaters and laughed at his own jokes and was deeply in love with his husband, Teddy. He was the baby of the family, and a bit indulged, but this only made him more charming. He had all the advice in the world to give her, and all the assurance that there wasn’t anything even a bit unusual about it, not at all, and she was becoming quite handsome as she grew up, wasn’t she?

Yes, that made her quite spoiled, to have all those things, and she was grateful for her family over and above anything else.

Lily was a mechanic, and Mark flew cargo, but her father and mother had been fighter pilots, and Tracer was proud of that strong lineage, of the way she took after them in the most important and daring of ways.

She had only a few memories of her mother, Mary, but they were sweet ones. Weeding together in the tiny garden out behind the long-held Oxton rowhouse. Braiding her  hair for her first day of school. The way her father and mother had held her tight in the dark, fast tunnel of Big Thunder Mountain, and she had laughed and laughed, and her mother had proudly said she’d be such a wonderful pilot someday.

That was just before she got sick.

Her father had always told Tracer how much her mother had loved her, and how the greatest regret she had was not being able to see Tracer grow up, that even at six, Tracer was already becoming such an interesting little person, and it made Mary so upset to know she’d never see what kind of adult she would become.

Tracer always hoped she’d be proud of how she ended up.

She still remembered the day her mother died, how she’d known immediately, pretending to be asleep in the dead of night, when her father had come into her room and slumped down onto the edge of Tracer’s bed next to her, and just began to cry.

“Bottling up your feelings is a bit like kinking up an ‘ose, Lena,” he’d said once, sitting by her on the couch as she wept over a laundry list of things: a romantic disappointment, a poor mark, having yelled at her father over something trivial, “the ‘ose does eventually explode, doesn’t it? Just let it out, and then we can get on with it, love.”

She had loved her father very much. The day Bert Oxton died, a large part of Tracer’s heart shattered. She always felt bad for Winston, all these years later, for having to be the one to tell her, barely knowing her but knowing she only spoke to ask for him. No one else had the courage to tell her.

It took her weeks to try and speak again.

Bert had always made her feel that who she was, was an asset to this world, that the way her mind worked and the way she carried herself and the way she loved were all wonderful and beautiful things. That she was special, and if she worked hard, she could do incredible things.

He taught her how to work with her ADHD, how to trick her mind into doing the things she needed to do, without ever making her feel that the way she was needed to be corrected or stopped or changed. She never felt stupid with Bert, no matter how stupid the thing she did at that exact moment might have been.

She was a desperately loved child, and she never doubted this, however annoyed he might have been with her from time to time. He was always careful about that, and she teased him for the way he was careful to say “I love you, AND,” instead of “I love you, BUT” like any of that mattered. But it did, a little, that she never felt something she was doing wrong was an exception to his love. He was a kind and sentimental man, and sometimes, even all these years later, she missed him so very much it made her heart ache.

When she’d been accepted into Overwatch, her father had talked the family pub into showing the commission ceremony. The entire pub had erupted in a cheer when they announced: ‘Lena Oxton. United Kingdom.’ and she had accepted her new uniform.

If only he’d known how much he would grow to hate Overwatch in such a short amount of time.

She had been sitting with Dva on the roof one day. Dva never said much about her time in MEKA, and Tracer never asked, smart enough to know that people say what they want to about their service, and somehow she and Dva had ended up exchanging stories of people they’d lost in the military, the moment fragile as an eggshell.

And it must have been something in the beer, because 76 looked over and told her something he never had.

“I was the one who told your dad you were dead.”

He let it hang there, and Tracer found herself unable to say anything in response.

“I didn’t know you at the time, but I won’t ever forget it. He answered the door, and looked at me and…some psych recruit they had come with, and he said, ‘she’s my only child.’ Just that. And then he asked us to come inside, and told us he just needed three more minutes, that he could imagine you were alive. And he poured himself a beer, and sat down, and said, ‘alright then, tell me what you came here to tell me’” He took a drink of his beer. “I won’t ever forget it.”

Tracer never would either, after that sunset-dappled confession. Knowing how her father must have felt in that moment, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening.

She’d told him when she left for the mission that it was less than nothing, just rather top-secret.

Beatrix, her grandmother, always held that Overwatch killed her son. That their refusal to tell him, or anyone, where she went down, the way her body was never returned home, the way he fought to find out what happened to her, that had cracked the casing of Overwatch and shown some unsavory bedfellows, that the stress of it all had killed him, and so far as Bea was concerned, Overwatch was responsible.

Nobody would ever accuse Bea of being soft on anyone at all, least of all on a quasi-governmental institution. And she had loved her children fiercely, and carried that tradition to her grandchildren, and whenever Tracer had the slightest effect from her disability, Bea was the first to curse their name.

But most of what Tracer knew of her family was courage, and love, and acceptance, and it was all these things that made her as happy as she was, and as confident, and resilient. They had built a beautiful frame for her, something strong inside her that was difficult to crush, and every day, Tracer was thankful for that.

[eucatastrophe-i-hope]

Not All Wounds are Visable

This is a Voltron: Legendary Defender Group Therapy AU. What that means is that basically, they all meet at this teenage therapy meeting, and become friends, I guess. I honestly don’t know what is going to happen to this story, but we will see, I guess. It’s not very good, and I’m not sure how far I will get into it before either forgetting about it, or just dropping it, but oh well?

I have been stalling posting this because I’m still not sure how I feel about it, but I figured that its Keith’s birthday! Might as well post his chapter, right? I’m so sorry Keith. I love you!

Warning! This story includes talks about depression, death, anxiety, PTSD, ADHD, Cancer, suicide, insomnia, and many other mental illnesses. Please do not put yourself at risk by reading this! Also mentions of blood, swearing, sex, and other things that teenagers would talk about. The story literally starts off with a failed suicide attempt and thoughts of suicide, so please stay safe!

I try to portray the mental illnesses as best I can, but I personally have only had to deal with depression and minor anxiety. So I apologize if I don’t portray them correctly. I’m doing a bunch of research, but if you find that something is wrong, please send me a message or something. But also keep in mind that everyone’s experience with mental illness is different.

Also! Feel free to message me if you need someone to talk too! I will not judge you for anything!

Again, please do not read if you are triggered by anything I mentioned previously!

Chapter 1

Keith

Hospital are always way too white. White walls, white sheets, white lights, white clothing. Everything is white and sterile. The color of sickness and medication. I hated hospitals. I have been in them too many times for a normal person, and I despised the blinding color. Black was much more suitable.

White is the color of life.

Black is the color of death.

I squinted at the white tiled ceiling above me and sighed. The light next to me was flickering. But it was white. White, white, white, white, white. Everything in this godforsaken place was white. I attempted to move the fingers in my right hand, but all I felt was the pain of my cuts and the stinging nothingness of my hand’s existence.

The tv in the corner was muted but still seemed so loud. The pictures and images flashing by. It was talking about some car crash or something. Or maybe it was a reality tv show. Whatever it was, I didn’t really care.

The doctor’s voice was distant behind the door. He was probably talking to my adopted parents. “He cut the tendon in his wrist… Should be fixable… Abusive behavior… kill himself… You need too…”

A shiver went down my spine, and I wished I had my red jacket with me. I had grown used to its presence, using it to hide the scars littering my arms and sides. It protected me from the cruel thing called life. I closed my eyes and sighed, praying that I wouldn’t start crying. That would only make Yui, my adopted mother cry. Then her husband, Akio would start crying, and then Shiro would be Shiro and I just can’t handle that.

The Shirogane’s adopted me when I was 11. I didn’t feel welcomed at first, but Takashi, their son, made it a lot easier. But despite feeling like I had somewhat of a family again, I could never get rid of the empty feeling in my chest. There was something missing, and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

And it eventually got really bad.

I exhaled again, rubbing my thumb against my fingers in frustration. It was stupid of me to have gotten caught. I should have made sure they were asleep. I should have made sure… I should have made sure I killed myself when I had the fucking chance.

I should have fucking died.

I want to die.

There was a light knock on the door, and I pondered whether I would answer it. But I couldn’t really trust my voice to make the correct sounds. The door inched open, and I was met with dark eyes peering through the crack. Eyes I recognized well. Shiro… Seeing I was awake, Shiro pushed the door open further. “Keith?”

“Hey, Takashi.” I croaked, smiling weakly. “Whats up?”

“Don’t even start.” He crossed his arms strictly, having to move his prosthetic one to finish the motion, reminding me of his dad a little bit, despite only being a few years older than me. He let his arm relax when he saw me frown and crossed the small room to sit next to me on the small, white hospital bed. I tried to scoot over, but I couldn’t really find the energy. I tried to use my hand to lift myself up, but I hissed in pain.

“Don’t move, you’re alright.” Shiro wrapped an arm around my shoulder and I felt the mattress sink under his weight. “God, you really scared me, kid.”

I noticed now that his eyes were lined with red. He had been crying.

Because of you…

Shiro had always been the handsome one. He was tall and muscular, a look that every woman on the street fell for instantly. He had a large pink scar across his nose and the hair at the beginning of his forehead was dyed white. He had been popular at school, everyone trying to get a piece of him in some way. But he didn’t enjoy that. Shiro wasn’t a fan of lots of people. He couldn’t stand being in a crowded space for more than a few minutes sometimes. He just got overwhelmed so quickly.

“I’m sorry.” I placed my numb hand on my lap, ignoring the pain, and wrapped my other arm around his waist slowly, so he knew what I was doing. He smiled sadly. “You cut a tendon in your wrist, Keith.”

Leaning against his shoulder, I closed my eyes. “I know,” I muttered softly.

“If something goes wrong during the surgery, you won’t be able to use that hand anymore.” He whispered. Shiro should know. He lost his whole arm. He knows that empty feeling of nothing being where something should be. Shiro knows it better than anyone else. He wasn’t looking at me. I could tell.

“It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous, right Shiro?” I chuckled lightly. I just wanted to sleep forever. I didn’t want to have this conversation with him. With Shiro. He’s my brother. I didn’t want to hear the questions he was going to ask.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry.”

Another sigh. He placed his chin on my head, stroking my neck. “No, I’m the one that should be sorry, Keith. I should have protected you. I should have tried harder.”

“It was my choice, Shiro. I can’t… I don’t….” I could feel the tears behind my eyes. I didn’t know how to finish my sentence. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“I know, Keith. I know. I understand.” He smiled against my head. “I know everyone has been telling you this your entire life, and I know you don’t want to hear it anymore. But it will get better. It will get so much better. I can promise you, it will.”

I couldn’t answer. I just shook my head.

“Keith. I want you to do something for me. Can you try?”

“I… I guess…”

“Come to a meeting.”

“Shiro-”

“No, Keith, you need too. You need to talk to someone that is dealing with the same problems as you!” Shiro has been talking about going to a group therapy meeting for the past few months. With a bunch of other kids that were messed up too. He has been asking me to go to a meeting, claiming it will help to talk to other people my age.

“Plus you don’t have much of a choice. It’s either go to these meetings and see a professional twice a week, or you have to go to a hospital.”

A hospital? No… I can’t go there….

“I talk to you all the time!”

“Just… please?” His voice sounded small. “I’ll go with you. If you want.”

I hesitated at first. I didn’t want to talk to people about what is in my brain because it’s fucking messed up. I didn’t even know what was happening up there half the time. And besides, it’s no ones else business whats going on in my life. But I guess it’s better than going to a mental hospital. I sighed. “…fine.”

Shiro smiled. I wanted to smile back, but I couldn’t find the energy. “I have something for you. He pulled a brown paper bag out of his pocket. Whatever it was fit into his pocket pretty well, I hadn’t it noticed before. “I was going to give this to you in a few days, but I think it’s appropriate to give it to you now.” He handed it to me, and I took it slowly with my right hand. It was kind of heavy, but not really. Wooden, I think. I opened the paper bag and found a picture frame inside. “I had just gotten it from the frame place down the street when I got the call that-” He sucked in a breath. “Well, anyway. Happy Birthday, Keith.”

It was a picture. A picture of me and Shiro, when I had just been adopted by the Shiroganes. We were sitting on a bench in the part. We were both smiling. I was missing one of my teeth, it had fallen out a few days before. Shiro wore a black beanie and his varsity football jacket. It was before he left for the military. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. I had realized that I didn’t only have a family again, but I had a brother too.

I felt my breath shudder as I exhaled, gripping the frame tightly. “Thank you,” I whispered, finally letting my tears fall. Wednesday, October 18th. Five days before my birthday, I tried to kill myself. And I failed.

I drifted off to a warm arm wrapping around me, and the sound of voices out in the hallway. With the bright white lights streaming down on me, in the white room with the white floor and the white cloths. And the beautiful blue wooden picture frame with veins of silver and gold.

Thank you for reading!

[dredshirtroberts]

Been a while since I went on and on about my family.

Probably because shit’s been kinda crazy in my life and frankly there’ve been other things to consider.

I have very, very complex feelings about my family.

I love them, dearly, with all my heart. They claim to do the same to me, and sometimes they do things that prove it. Sometimes they say things that make me think if I ever were to open up completely to them I would no longer be loved. They have helped me and protected me during rough times in my life and I will be forever grateful to them. They have also caused me harm and trauma and seeded deep seated anxieties and complexes that will cause me distress for some time yet as I work my way through all of it. They are also, undeniably human, and for that I cannot find it in me to dislike them for their faults. Much.

Because of the trauma and hurt I’ve been through - whether sourced from them or not - it is incredibly easy for manipulative people to latch onto my insecurities and my anger and turn that into something they can use to isolate me from the people I am closest to both genetically and emotionally, thus making it easier to hurt me differently, more.

This has happened at least twice that I’m aware of. Once with a former best friend who I don’t know intended to be as manipulative and abusive as she is/was but intent doesn’t really matter I suppose. The second time was with my ex-partner I left this past April. 

To my eyes it always appeared that my younger sister was the favorite of my parents, and to my sister I appeared the favorite, so we were essentially pitted against one another in a competition we never signed up for - and I believe this was done completely unintentionally. The constant struggle to be “good enough” for our parents’ approval placed us in the unfortunate position of being 2 hormonal teenagers within 3 years of age difference stuck in the same house 24/7. We were constantly fighting - screaming matches designed to hurt. Wild swings meant to intimidate but not connect because if I connected there’d be hell to pay. (I connected a punch at least once, and that’s just the one I remember because it was relatively traumatizing not only to her but to myself because I never actually wanted to hit her). She and I have mostly gotten through the misunderstanding of our motivations from that time period. She struggled because I was the “good kid” who never did anything wrong - even though she knew better. And she was talented and beautiful and got compliments on everything - even though I saw her handheld through some of the things I was forced to do on my own. It was very fraught, and honestly there were things that should have been done better but none of us knew what we were doing.

My parents meant well with everything. They tried not to play favorites but they were both older children determined not to let their oldest child feel like they had - and in doing so had caused their youngest to feel ostracized and like she would never be enough because I had the benefit of the doubt on my side. Confirmation bias - the oldest kid wasn’t in the wrong all the time, which meant I was never in the wrong because they hadn’t been in the wrong all the time (they thought). This was the wrong way to handle it but I don’t think I would have done any better.

They took us out of Public Schooling to homeschool when I was 12 and my sister was 9. They meant to make sure that we were getting the attention we needed in order to succeed. I’d been in the gifted program and was still bored, and my sister was being sidelined because she was placed in That classroom of her peers - the one filled with all the kids who were constantly in trouble, and with the teacher who probably didn’t need to be a teacher anymore. So they thought they would do a better job. My dad worked full time initially so he was gone a lot. My mom tried to teach but she is not a teacher. She is an excellent scholar and does very well with knowing things. If you know things on the same level she does? Great to talk to and debate with. If you’re not there yet? Forget it, you’re going to have to find someone else to teach you. My sister required a lot more attention as she was the squeaky wheel - she wouldn’t read because she finds it incredibly difficult (I’m pretty sure we’ve got some level of dyslexia, and hers is worse than mine). She was very good at math though, which my mother loved because my mother loves math. She picked my mom’s favorite foreign language to learn because it was relevant to her own interests and my mom latched on. 

I could read 5 books in a week, write pages and pages of stories, and would research like no one’s business. But I could not figure out math, I wouldn’t put the research into a paper, my stories were not for parental consumption, and I didn’t want to read the books I was supposed to be reading (they were incredibly boring, I stand by my decisions). But none of this interested my mother except in telling me how I was failing, so I was left to my own devices, sitting alone in my bedroom surrounded by my schoolbooks and doing nothing I was supposed to. It was a very artistically productive time in my life. When I got a laptop later in my teens, forget school work at all, nothing got done. I technically did not graduate high school and I only “passed” the assessment tests because I test incredibly well.

So I was alone for a very long time during the day until “my” parent got home from work. Cause I was Dad’s kid and my sister was my mom’s kid, as described above. But I couldn’t get into computers and programming the way my dad wanted me to - my sister was actually into more of the same interests as him, but they Do Not get along. Yes present tense. They do well in short periods of time but they are not ever going to be close-close. My mom and I are cut from the same nerd cloth and I thought at one point I’d maybe found a way into her heart by starting her going to a local comic convention with me. We did an annual day out just the two of us for a good couple years. I think I learned something the one time she tried to bring my dad and sister with us (neither of whom was in any way shape or form excited about the endeavor, and in fact both hated it immensely). We stopped going as regularly after that and haven’t been back since. That...that one still hurts so I’m going to try not to pick open that scab right now.

I spent a lot of time alone. I was trying to figure myself out. I was about 16 when I realized I was not a Girl. I’m actually still fairly certain my initial assessment is correct and actually I am a guy. I just...can’t do anything about it right now and honestly I’ve gotten used to existing as I am so I’m just going to keep on keeping on. It might change again, it’s been known to do that. I don’t know if it’s a natural thing for me or if it’s something that is induced by outside stressors but I’ll just continue existing and we’ll see how it goes.

My mental illnesses were ignored for the most part. Teenage Angst was what my depression was, I’d grow out of it. Normal was what my anxiety was determined to be (hmm, my Super Anxious mother saying my anxiety is just normal life? sounds fake but okay). ADHD? That’s something that kids with less attentive parents have, and since mine were super attentive - I was being homeschooled after all - I clearly could not have that. Plus it was fake, and if I wasn’t so lazy and unmotivated I wouldn’t have a problem. Also I didn’t know anything about ADHD so that was definitely not something I had. The fact that I definitely wanted to kill myself and frequently wanted to die and didn’t think I’d live past 18? I didn’t talk about that. No one knew because depression wasn’t real and if I said anything I was just “crying out for help” and clearly that was only what whiny brats did when they felt the world wasn’t being handed to them on a silver platter. 

I self-harmed intentionally for the first time at 14. I have done so infrequently since then. When I reached drinking age, I developed a mild problem - but I didn’t think anything of it because it was encouraged and supported by my family who didn’t know I was using it to cope with the fact that I still felt like dying but now was older than I ever thought I’d be and didn’t know where my life was going. I used pot as a way to escape with my first IRL friend in 7 years. She used it against me as a way to make me easier to manipulate and keep complacent. I let her.

I spent 4 years in a weird haze of things I don’t really remember very well or remember extremely clearly. I was constantly anxious and upset, and I still felt like dying but at least I wasn’t alone anymore. She constantly berated my sister (which I hated and promised never to let anyone else do ever again - which I then broke later but, well, I’m going to be better now). My family didn’t like her, which she used to pit me against them saying they only wanted to isolate me from others again. This is the same time I came to Tumblr and started learning about abuse cycles and signs. It took me a while to stop only attributing them to the way my family worked (not always abusive) and start comparing the lists to her behavior towards me (usually abusive). 

I finally realized something was wrong with all of it when I was introduced to a group of people in whom I found several new family members. If you’re reading this, you’re statistically one of those people so you already know what I’m talking about. This ex-friend of mine introduced me to the group and I was shocked at how people could positively support one another and be genuinely interested in my health and wellbeing and also the things I enjoyed all at the same time.

I met a guy through them and with his support and everyone else’s I left the manipulation and abusive behavior of this ex-friend behind. The relationship with the guy lasted 6 months and honestly I’m impressed we got that far now that I think back on it (note to self, if he’s named himself after war machinery it probably won’t work very long). It was the longest I’d ever been out with anyone, my previous record being 2 weeks. 2 months after the end of that relationship and I met my now ex-partner.

I won’t rehash that disaster. It was 4.5 years of slow build up to the shitshow that actually started in December of last year and culminated in April of this year. He used the same tactics against me as my ex-friend did. Slowly pull me away from my support system (who I was already farther away from than I’d been with Her). Remind me that they’d hurt me and that their attempts to hold on to me were to keep me away from others. Hide that he was trying to do the same himself, isolate me from my support system and give me a support system that already backed him up and would side with him no matter what. Use physical intimidation (whether intentional or not he did it, and it was new so I wasn’t prepared) to remind me that I was not in any position of power. Berate my sister, avoid my family, use their attempts to show me that he was in the wrong to prove they were in the wrong.

I swear to god the very next time someone else calls my sister a bitch I am throwing hands and getting the fuck out immediately because I Will Not.

It’s happened twice now and I’ve let it happen both times. It’s not fair to her and honestly it’s not even true. She’s...difficult to deal with, and sometimes she does things in a manner that doesn’t...make much sense to me but she’s not a bitch. She’s a woman who is extremely opinionated and has very strong views on How Things Should Be. She’s not bigoted or hateful which frankly is a surprise considering our upbringing. But she’s not a bitch.

Speaking of our upbringing, I guess I should mention I was raised in a politically conservative, right-wing household. There are certain radio talk-show hosts whose introduction jingles make me think of summertime and relaxation because that’s when I’d be listening to them the most thanks to my mom always having them on the radio during their broadcast times. The Liberals (tm) were Bad and the Republicans were the only hope our country had. The Gays were an evil to be endured but god forbid they get any rights or freedoms, and also women are completely equal to men and racism was abolished before my dad was born so it’s fine now. 

We weren’t super Christian - not until later anyway. We went to church on Sundays, and even then Dad took several years off where he just never went to a service. We listened to Punk music and pretended we were on the right side of things, and sometimes we listened to heavier stuff because Satan was bad but not that bad and also probably not real because Christianity isn’t a big deal it’s just important because Reasons (tm). We only prayed before big holiday meals and even then it was more lip service than anything. A tradition of Things You Do. I had friends who were way more performatively Christian than my family and I didn’t really think anything of it.

Of course now my dad’s part of one of those neo-baptists mini-megachurch cults (my bad, I did introduce him to it after I spent a summer in Louisiana) and he’s become weirdly open to things like Neurodivergence and Mental Illness but has regressed on the trans* and gay issues to, like, all the way back: “He’s just confused why does any guy want to wear a dress” and “she’s got a wife and I guess that’s fine because she’s an alright person but gay people shouldn’t get married or exist”. I vaguely know their stance on reproductive rights because we never actually discussed sex despite my dad and I communicating frequently in bawdy jokes and quotes from movies I shouldn’t have seen as young as I was when I saw them, but I told them at one point I was on birth control and I think my mom had a mini aneurism because she just kind of froze for a minute. It’s definitely not a favorable view but I mean...I can’t convince them to care about people who aren’t them and who experience the world differently from them so I mean

Mm and they’ve recently become gun owners which was a surprise. We never owned a gun, we never really talked about guns or gun ownership except as a political thing. Dad kinda mentioned it a little bit sometimes? that he’d one day like a gun but it was always a distant future sort of thing. And now they both have concealed carry licenses, my mom has a purse with a hidden compartment and a lock, they go out to the shooting range for dates together, and my dad went on his first deer hunt this year for a work retreat thing (?????? don’t ask me, I honestly don’t know or understand why that was a thing). 

I held a gun one time and it was horrible and I hated it. It wasn’t loaded or anything but it was heavy as fuck and I was so uncomfortable I immediately handed it back as soon as its owner was done with whatever he was trying to prove to me (it was first boyfriend war machinery name guy...again, every time i look back at that relationship I still don’t know how we managed to keep our shit together for 6 whole months. it was not my best decision but considering the other decisions i’ve made regarding relationships, I suppose it could have been worse). 

Anyway, I forget where I was supposed to be going with all of this. I think I was just explaining that my feelings about my family are complicated and uncomfortable? And I think the main thing I got out of this (which is a good thing, don’t worry) is that I am not going to let anyone else in my life determine my relationship with my parents and my sister ever again and anyone who tries to manipulate that (even with good intentions, it’s still none of their business) is a bad fit for me and needs to go.

Oh yeah, I guess this is also me coming out to y’all who are reading this: I think I’m a guy. I’ll let you know if my pronouns or anything change but right now I’m pretty much still coming to terms with the gender bit. It’s been a while since I properly explored my gender shit so we’ll see how it goes.

[mediumredbullmantra-blog]

Have a read (not entirely safe)

Has anyone ever when something very first defined the personality they have today for every situation??? Either way . I’m just gonna share with you a bunch of random times from my life. You may believe it or you may not. It is not all entirely insane but i’ll get there. A little background on my family , cancer, mental disorders ( of extreme means ) , and a few physical disabilities. 

So i was gonna start with this sentence ,but also diabetes.

Remember poking people for fun?? Well my family has a fantastic story about that regarding a bus ride home. In their version they came to wait for me to get off the bus . only to find other parents in a commotion. Apparently this 3rd grader wouldn’t quit poking me .So I pulle dhim off the bus and went to town . Now whats funny to all of us is that it took 3 grown men to tear me off the boy. Of course I don’t remember this. What I do remember is that sometime in the near future I decided to walk to my babysitters house . She was honestly alot of fun to be around. We all lived in a trailer park in a town I dont care to mention ( and apparently im to lazy to make grammatical corrections) Either way i’m on my way to her house and in the process im skipping rocks because what else do children do? A boy on the right was standing at the bottom of his stairs and started picking on me . I kept walking and skipping my rocks and as fate would have it one of my rocks knocked him square in the stomach . And I ended up being shoved into a bed of stickers , and may I say that shit sucks big balls like balls you could not fit into any area on your body . So I got up and ran , my entire intention was to get to my house. Along the way I found a metal pipe and why wouldn’t I pick t up? There was no logical reason in my mind not to beat the kid with it. So I grabbed it and ran back towards him and from there I broke his nose and bruised a couple ribs. In my mind he deserved it . Shouldn’t have pushed me in the stickers. Next thing I remember my mother and I heard a knock on the door and i kept screaming I didn’t do it. But of course I did. Ya’ll kids are dangerous when cornered. my mom answered the door and there is the boy along with his dad and his other kids. His sisters kept laughing sayinmg o she whooped his ass . But the dad happened to be the landlord , so like slumlords go there were consequences.

That is the first time I remember getting in a fight. The first time I saw 4 cop cars ever in my life was again in the near future. So my uncle grabs me from school and decides to take me to the store with him so I could get some candy . Well we were gone longer than expected. when we got home My mom my grandma everyone is running around yelling my name cops are searching and my uncle just starts dying laughing . When we parked my mom punched the shit out of him for not telling her. They all thought I was taken. But of course me and my uncle thought it was funny. ( although kidnapping happens all the time and is no joke) 

Later in my life I was playing tetherball having a blast and I got hit in the face that is the first time I have ever felt uncontrollable anger. Of course I knew it was an accident, but I definitely did not let that go . I charged the kid and we smacked on the concrete jarring us both and again went to town. All of this has a point .

At age 7 I kicked my doctor in the shin , because they asked me if I wanted medicine . I had just been diagnosed with adhd and was not having it.

Again at age 7 I bit a cop in the leg. Now I’m not saying it was justifiable i’m just saying that he wasn’t going to take the person he was trying to take. So I latched on. The person in my family tells me a story later in life about how when they got to the station the officers asked what happened because his leg was bloody. one officer automatically jumps up and asked if he needs help escorting this person . The officer then says no it wasn’t them , officer number asks then who was it. A seven year old he says and of course they all get  a kick out of it . ya’ll cops keep us safe and I understand that we feel like we wil never get our family back sometimes but i’m also suggesting unless you are an adorable 7 year old just do what your told.

I guess being 7 was a big year for me. I found a frozen squirrell , always was at the skating rink , first motorcycle ride and also the very first time I learned as a girl what it felt like to be racked. My bright idea was to balance on a metal railing 3 ft off the ground when it was raining. i mean I was bored . Either way I slipped and let me explain it this way. very simply I puked everywhere and could not walk. I had a pelvic bruise for days.

Well lucky me that passed before I got my bicycle. Or so I thought. Two instances in that same year resulting in injury. Once very little but handle bar jammed into my stomach scraping it but no bleeding I was winding but the only thing left of that still today is a circle spot on my tummy that never gets dark Its the whitest part of my entire body .

The next I was riding over to my babysitters again but as fate would have it I drop my juicy fruit over the side of the bridge that divided both parts of the trailer park. Well I was going to hits my brakes but instead pushed forward. The next thing i see is the bridge from 8 feet down on a concrete slab and my shoes a somewhere no clue where and my socks stuck in the barbwire and I realize i can’t move my right leg. I manage my way out of the creek and my pastor took me back home and i made me way inside until my uncle was told to take me to the hospital and to add insult to injury there were only three steps in front of the door. My leg decides to fully lock and I fac eplant in the gravel and what does my uncle do ? laughs because what else are you supposed to do when a kid busts ass. We get to the hospital and he jacks my wheel chair and disappears. 

That’s all the randoms i’m gonna give for now my hands are tired soif anyone reads this enjoy I hope it made you laugh and Hope you take the little bits of advice. And i apologize if the sentence structure bothers you I dont want to fix it anyhow.