#and i've been sort of not really joking that if it's not adhd then it's probably autism

[pallanophblargh]

As part of my ADHD diagnosis intake process (or whatever you call this), there’s a massive quiz I have to take. I THOUGHT I was prepared. I was not.

Aside from leaving it to almost the last minute (I have a week to complete), I just... these questions... what. WHAT. I mean, some of them are super easy, but a good chunk of them have caused a level of internal anguish I normally assign to tax returns, math, or social interactions with strangers.

I don’t know if this proves anything. I’m only half way through and part of me wants to cry.

I think a good chunk of the anxiety stems from the hard dichotomy of a simple “true or false” answer system. I am in hell.

[purplethespian]

Waiting for Permission to Be Sick - Input Requested!

So, I got officially diagnosed with two chronic conditions last week. And the doctor explained to me the details of how these conditions affect my body, and what kinds of symptoms to look out for, and what I can expect life to look like going forward. And I got prescribed meds, and given detailed instructions for when to take them and any side effects I might experience and what to do to help myself feel better if I'm not feeling well, and all of that.

And I just. Haven't done it. I've started taking some of the meds, but not all of them, and like. There's no real reason for me not to? I'm just. Not doing it. Like I've looked up some products on Etsy to have like. Emergency medical info with me so that if I randomly black out or faint again in public, someone could see me and have info know what to do. And I've been looking at pins that say "I have an invisible disability" and aaaaaaaall sorts of stuff. Basically just window shopping for my chronic illness starter kit. But it's been over a week now and I haven't bought anything, and I seem to have convinced myself that I can't start taking my meds until I have all of my Items sorted out and prepared. And like -- there are some actual reasons for this, such as my schedule has been all over the place and my meds need to be taken at multiple times a day at certain intervals, and some with food and some without food, so I need to be able to have that stuff ready to go even when I'm out and about.

But I'm not. Actually doing the work to get everything sorted out and ready? I'm just window shopping. And today, I have been very tired all day because of the rain and because I did too much yesterday, and my head has been hurting because I'm still not over my concussion and I also probably did too much today, even though honestly all I did was go to one class and observe the whole time, and read a couple of emails. And I thought to myself, "well I guess I should take tylenol for my head, and I guess I can give myself permission to do that since my boyfriend is busy and can't tell me to take care of myself --- oh."

I have been waiting for someone to give me permission to identify as chronically ill! Even today I was like "I feel like I've managed to convince myself that I feel worse than I actually do, and I'm actually fine." Even though there would be no real reason for me to be doing that. And like. My head actually hurts! I really did and still do feel tired! And I've seen my test results, and I know that I have a chronic condition. It's been medically confirmed by a bunch of different tests, and multiple medical professionals have been like "yep you've got something wrong with you" (though using more professional and kind words, of course). All of this to say -- I have been waiting for someone to tell me that I am ill and it is chronic and that it is okay to spend money on taking care of myself and things that will make me feel better, even if it is only temporary like the excitement of buying a new pouch that says "This Bag Is Full of Drugs" specifically to keep my medical supplies in, or something to help keep me safe going forward like a medical alert key chain. The only question now is -- what do I do about this? How do I give myself permission to need help or extra accommodations or even just some medication when I never want to admit that I need or want help? I'm so used to being self-sufficient and doing everything by myself that I don't know how to be okay with more problems.

Has anyone else experienced something like this? What do you do? How do you learn to be okay with the fact that your body is not going to go back to the way it was before? I am only 22 and it's hard to accept that my life is not going to look the way I pictured it when I was 18.

[foone]

I see a lot of people joking about the adhd thing of "I have a appointment/phone call at 3pm, guess I won't do anything all day!"

But no one seems to make the connection that it's a time blindness thing. One of the symptoms of ADHD is not having a good and accurate sense of time. And not doing stuff prior to an event with a hard deadline is an obvious coping mechanism for that.

Can I go to the store? It's 10am and the appointment is at 3pm. How long does going to the store take? An hour? Three hours? Five hours? I DON'T KNOW!

I get anxious trying to do things before appointments because I'm aware that I don't know how long those things take, and that if I think I do, I may be very wrong. Too often I've been like "hey I can walk to the corner store and grab a drink, that'll take like 15 minutes!" and then an hour later I get back and whoops my rice has burnt.

Plus there's also the fact that ADHD people know that motivation and focus is a two-edged sword.

Like, let's say you decide to play a video game. You've got time, you can pause/save whenever, so this should be a perfect fit to make good use of your waiting-time. So you start playing and WHOOPS you get really focused for some reason today (because people with ADHD do not get to pick when their brain decides to focus) and the next time you look at the clock it's 2:49 and you haven't showered or dressed and the appointment is 30 minutes away. Fuck. (you could have set an alarm, but now you're asking people with the forgetting-things-and-time-ignoring condition to remember it set alarms)

And with motivation, it can be almost worse. Instead of playing a game, you so something useful or creative. You clean your room or fix your plumbing or write a story or draw a picture. And suddenly it's great. Your brain is firing on all cylinders. You've got all the motivation you can ask for, and you are FLYING. the ideas are brilliant, your hands are nimble, you're getting stuff done you've been putting off for weeks or months. And then the alarm goes off. Time to go to your appointment. Fuck.

You drive there, your brain still full of ideas and plans. But by the time you get back, the motivation is gone. You may still have the ideas but you don't have the drive to write them down. You can't force yourself to do it. Your sink is still in pieces. Your room is half-cleaned, and you have to shove all the sorted clothes into one big bin just so you have somewhere to sleep. You've left things half finished again, in a cycle that has been repeating your whole fucking life. It seems sometimes that nothing ever gets finished.

So next time you don't even start. There's not time. You've been burnt too many times. Why add another half-completed project to your pile of shame?

My point is that people seem to be going "lol I can't do anything all day if I have an appointment at 3pm" like this is a quirky "oh I'm so scatterbrained!" weirdness they alone have, and not a major complication of a disabling mental illness.

(and that's not even getting into the secondary effects. If you know that having an appointment ruins your whole damn day, you're going to avoid them. Even when it's things like "going to that party" or "meeting your friends for a drink/game" or "going to a movie with that cute girl from your math class". Things you should enjoy. Things that'd help you be social. Things that make you feel human.)

[letrashbag]

I'm making this post so I can rant in the tags, it feels safer, like no one will see it, but I'm still screaming into the void y'know?

[thebibliosphere]

Am I reading this right? You have been beating yourself up for not 'working more' and not 'doing enough', but, the mere act of being AT YOUR DESK is extremely painful? Sitting at your work station, just SITTING THERE, caused you PHYSICAL PAIN, but you were still under the impression that you should be able to just 'power through that' to do, what? How much more are you expecting out of yourself? A book a month? Its not like you've STOPPED WORKING. What time table were you holding yourself to???

Here's the thing, my body has always hurt.

Even when I was a child, I was in a lot of pain that was dismissed as either "growing pains" despite the fact that I never got past 5 feet tall at the age of 11 or "attention seeking." So, I learned to stop talking about it. (The trick is now getting me to shut up about it.)

And for most of my teens and twenties, the pain didn't really stop me too much. It was bad, and it sucked, but for the longest time, everyone kept telling me that "everyone" felt that way, so I just sort of learned to power through and hide it under the assumption that "everyone" feels this way.

Well, turns out that was a mistake because my body hit its breaking point, and what might have been a mild genetic disability that could have flown under the radar is now a severe one that greatly impacts my daily life to the point where sitting at my desk causes me pain (because everything causes me pain).

Couple that with some new-age religious trauma about willpower, positive thinking, and whatever the fuck else my parents thought I was capable of as an 'indigo starseed' and the fact that I was trained to mask my ADHD by being a hyper-competent workaholic-- I really don't know what a healthy baseline is.

(I mean, heck, I wrote the first book of Hunger Pangs while literally dying. I assumed it would be edited and published posthumously. Jokes on me because now I've got to edit the rest of the fucking thing.)

I didn't, obviously, and ever since then, I've been trying to learn what a healthy baseline looks like for me post-recovery, and I think I'm doing quite well at it and enforcing my boundaries when people ask too much of me.

But none of that makes up for the shrieking frustration I feel that I can't do the things I want.

I want to be creative and do fun things, but I can't because my body won't let me. I want to write more, but I can't because I'm swimming in brain fog most of the time. Yes it hurts to sit at my desk, but I also need to earn money so the financial burden of everything isn't solely on my partner. (Something which he argues I shouldn't even be worrying about right now, but it's hard not to worry as I watch him work himself to the bone taking care of everything because I can't.)

I promise you, I'm not hustling my ass into an early grave. There is, in fact, zero hustle about how I work. I am very, very slow these days compared to how I used to be. There's no timetable for one thing. I get done what I get done, and that's it.

I'm just perpetually frustrated that my hyperactive brain is trapped in a malfunctioning meat suit. And my blog is where I talk about it and work through my emotions because, well, that's what I've always done long before Tumblr was even a thing. It just so happens now I've got an audience.

[aroaceleovaldez]

random question but i came across a post of yours where you talked about how mark oshiro sort of erased an aspect of nico's ADHD by making a joke about how he only liked mythomagic cards because he's gay and there are hot guys on the cards, and then TSATS also seemed to really downplay the themes of neurodivergence in the series. and it made me wonder if you have any thoughts on how the show has portrayed the demigods' ADHD and dyslexia so far? i've seen some people say that the show also downplayed it a lot, and i'm inclined to agree... which feels really weird considering that rick's own son's neurodivergence was specifically a major inspiration for him writing the series. but if i recall correctly a lot of scenes showcasing that in the first book were taken out of the show.

Oh absolutely, a lot of scenes and general discussion about adhd/dyslexia were removed in the show (and some of the disability-coding in general - i appreciate the change they made with making Chiron disabled based on his mythos rather than just using a wheelchair as a disguise, but i wish they had kept Grover's crutches in a similar manner honestly) - I've made a couple of posts discussing it: here, here, and this reblog is relevant to my opinions about the matter. There's probably some other stuff in my pjo tv crit tag.

I think the main sentiment i have regarding it - which i've seen a couple of other people mention as well - is how much the show ignores or outright removes and downplays Percy's personal struggles with his disabilities to instead emphasize Sally's experiences instead, particularly in manners of her taking out her stress on Percy - which alongside being completely antithetical to Sally's role in the books, is pretty ableist and why I continually compare show!Sally to Autism Speaks Parents. Autism Speaks tends to make an emphasis on the struggles of the parents of autistic children rather than treating autistic individuals like a person experiencing their own struggles. One of the major points of Sally's character (and later Paul) in the books is that she's an incredibly accommodating parent and works hard to make sure Percy is supported when he's struggling with his disabilities, because he's not been able to find that accommodation elsewhere. That's part of why Sally is such a great mom in particular, and is intentionally supposed to directly contrast Annabeth's home life struggles with her parents having difficulty navigating how to provide that same level of accommodation to help support her (and how Annabeth finds that accommodation at CHB instead, because that's the metaphor that CHB is supposed to represent - an appropriately accommodating system they can rely on, and then exploring how that's still a flawed system and looking at how disabled kids/demigods fall through the cracks and how to change the system to better support them).

The show also almost completely ignores Percy's ADHD/dyslexia experiences in general after the first episode. I was honestly really happy with, in the first episode, how clearly Percy's poor experiences in the American education system, particularly relating to his neurodivergence, have informed his reaction to situations such as people trying to tell him he's a demigod in coded language. It was essentially the perfect update to something i've discussed in the past here, about how the original "all demigods have adhd/dyslexia because it's secretly SUPERPOWERS" thing was presented as the basis for the series and why that teaching/parenting style fell out of favor. We see Percy in e1 acknowledge how dismissive of his struggles it is to constantly just be told he's "special" - and we even get explicit acknowledgement of how that description is used aggressively and for ostracization (from Nancy), which is extremely true to the experiences of kids who grew up with that teaching/parenting structure. But then we get to episode 2 and... all the acknowledgement of ADHD/dyslexia/etc is gone. We get at most a one-off acknowledgement from Luke that demigods are all neurodivergent and that's it. Pretty much nothing else for the entire rest of the season, save for flashback scenes that only emphasize Sally's experiences, not acknowledge Percy's. No further acknowledgement of Percy's dyslexia, or Annabeth's, or anything about their ADHD, or even Percy's completely removed PTSD (which we know for sure because of both writer commentary [see: that second post i linked about the LA Times article] and Percy's total lack of reaction to Mr. D). Nothing.

It was extremely disheartening to say the least, having such a strong start and it evaporating completely, and I fully agree with you.

[gallusrostromegalus]

oh my god I am frothing at the mouth PLEASE tell us about how Unohana is SO WEIRD ACTUALLY

(her reveal is my favorite thing in the whole series and I was obsessed with Bleach for a good long time)

I love Unohana. She's magnificently insane and deliciously fun to write so far.

My take on AEIWAM Unohana is that fundamentally, she just wants to be happy.

Oh, that doesn't sound too nuts. I hear you say.

Yeah, but I also headcanon that she has ADHD. We joke a lot about it on this site, but if you have the good fortune to have functioning dopamine factories, allow me to explain the worst part of it, for me.

There's no passive happiness.

Most people, as I understand it, if left to their own devices without undue stressors like capitalism or any particular stimulation, tend to be able to feel pretty okay most of the time. Which fascinates me because if I am left alone without undue stressors but no stimulation, my malfunctioning dopamine factories will shut down and I will rapidly develop a terrible black depression and paranoia that life is cruel and I will never experience happiness again and also my appetite vanishes and sleep cycle collapses and I will end up mentally and physically distraught, sometimes in less than an hour.

So I've always got to be doing something, or The Horrors get me.

So imagine Unohana, and with a brain that wants to die if she gets bored... living in fantasy magical ancient japan. Not much to do, out in the early days of the soul society, besides being attatcked by monsters, or participating in warfare, or starving to death. the first two, at least, get the blood pumping, but the first is difficult to come by regularly, so as a young woman, the most interesting thing that happens to her on the regular is Mortal Combat.

And how exciting it is! Adrenaline! Dopamine! And on the rare occasions she meets a fellow combat enthusiast, she also gets one of the best things about ADHD- Recognition Responsive Euphoria. You know that great feeling you get at Con or meeting another person with your special interest and you guys just VIBE and it feels like you've been best friends for life in less than five minutes? Yeah, apparently Non-ADHD people don't get that.

So naturally, she develops her skill in combat, not in pursuit of Honor or The Art or something nebulous like, that, but in the simple Pursuit of Happiness. She gets very good at it, and a lot of people die.

But she starts getting... too good at it. The fights don't last, there's nobody willing- let alone able, to meet her on her level and the previous joy she felt fades and fades until she is once again left in the darkness.

Then, a Miracle happens! Some punk stabs her in the lung :)

Man, what an evening for her. Kills a hundred men with barely a stroke and there's no more joy in the world for her when suddenly some barely-legal scarecrow looking bastard with a raggedy sword he pulled out of someone else's corpse appears at the top of the pile of bodies and then goes Ape. Fucking. Shit. on her.

It's the most fun she's had in ages! He's strong and fast and his moves are inefficient but delightfully unpredictable and by the GODS the STAMINA! Alright, she might be 1,000 years his senior but in the soul society age really is just a number and she can't help but be charmed.

So she flirts back by nearly cutting his face off. This DELIGHTS him!

And there it is again, that sudden feeling of intimacy between like-minded individuals, only these two ships aren't passing in the night, there' here to make Titanic 2: Electric Boogaloo. They make eye contact, and know-they're just like me.

True Love is a wonderful thing.

It's also a great opportunity for a surprise thrust and she only sort of manages to block it, and despite the feeling of blood pooling in her lung, she returns the blow full across his chest.

She staggers back, coughing.

He, miraculously, sits up, coughing. He won't die if he can crawl off somewhere to lick his wounds, but he can't continue the fight either.

She stands up, teeth gritted through the pain, and sheathes Minazuki. "What's your name?" She asks. "So I may find you to fight again."

"Don't have one." he wheezes. "But I'll never forget yours."

She's had men spit that as a threat to her before. It sounds very different as a declaration of love.

"Yachiru." she says, trying to not cough up blood. "Unohana Yachiru."

*

A Year later, there's a problem.

Soul Society has a bit of a problem with lungs. They can make entire fake bodies for shinigami to travel the living world, but individual organs, especially lungs... never seem to transplant well. Perhaps it's the fact they're already dead.

Her left lung is "healed" in the sense that it no longer has extraneous holes in it, but... Godsdammit, she still has all the power but none of the stamina. Barely 10 minutes into a fight and she's wheezing worse than The Old Man. 20 minutes and her hands are starting to shake and she's seeing spots in her eyes because she can't breathe well enough to keep the oxygen in her veins. Her fights usually last seconds so functionally she's still one of the most powerful people in the afterlife but it's a far cry from where she was before.

She can no longer be the 11th division's Kenpachi. Hell, she can no longer be the woman she was before.

"Unless you figure out some new medical miracles, this is as healed as it's going to get." Explains the chief medical officer after yet another frustrating checkup.

"...If that's what it takes." She decides.

The next morning she re-enrolls in the Shinigami Academy, under the name Unohana Retsu. The sole change she makes to her appearence is to braid her hair down the front of her chest because people WILL ask about the scar, and she doesn't want to think about how badly she's letting down that warrior with no name.

Either she needs to learn how to get back to his level, or find a new rival and learn to heal them to actually last the 20 minutes she has, or she'll die.

She studies.

To her vast surprise, bodies are actually fascinating. She'd previously seen that there were lots of interesting organs inside people but now learning what they are and how they work and the fact that the human body is already astonishingly death-resistant compared to most animals AND a carefully balanced meat sculpture minutes away from catastrophic failure at all times delights. She learns about the extreme ways humans can survive and the bizarrely mundane ways they can die, and she starts to form an idea- not an image, not a philosophy per se- but a working theory of how to keep someone alive and moving for as long and far as they will go, and what they need to stay upright.

This idea shines so brightly that it can keep that terrible darkness away.

The century practically flies by, and one night she stays up manually pumping the mechanism on a device used to keep the also-failing lungs of a young boy going after the power goes out. He's been blessed by A God that he's lived as long as he has, but even Gods can fuck up sometimes and she effectively has to breathe for him for twelve hours until the God gets its shit back together and he can breathe under his own power again.

"Hell of a fight you put in, keeping him alive." says one of her colleagues, collapsing beside her out in the 4th division medical garden where all the doctors go to smoke.

Retsu slowly exhales the smoke, fatigued but still coming down from the high of success. She cocks her head. Her body aches and her mind races and her heart thrills, just like- "I guess it was. " she realizes. "Interesting fight, going 12 hours in the ring with a dying child and winning because he walked away at the end." She laughs, and hands him the cigarette to share.

"You weirdo." he colleague laughs. He's far too young to remember when she was Yachiru. Most of them are these days, and it's a weird sort of peaceful anonymity and personal joke. "You weren't fighting the kid. If we were actually allowed to fight patients, I'd've stabbed the Kuchki hypochondriac decades ago." he grumbles, taking his own drag.

She snorts. "Who was I fighting then?"

"Death?" smoke billows out as he laughs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She freezes. Oh. Oh. That's why she likes this so much. She's gone from fighting mere men to the one opponent she knows she can win battles with, but never the war, and who will defeat her personally someday.

"Are. Are you crying?" he asks, a little worried.

"I- yes." She laughs, tears streaming down her face. "I just fell in love all over again."

"Ouch." he nods sympathetically, offering her the cigarette back. "Who with?"

"Death's own Angel, apparently." She giggles, feeling positively prepubescent with this crush.

And thus she goes on, for centuries, learning everything there is to know about bodies and minds and how the two keep each other going and the ways she can help. She gets very good at it, and a many more people do not die.

But there is a special, secret place in her heart for that nameless warrior that defeated her in battle, and made her stronger than every before.

*

Nearly 1,000 years after she stopped being Kenpachi, she is supervising the annual "see if you can kill the captain" tournament. Her colleague Kaname is there, a walking anxiety disorder with undoubtedly real but strangely hard to diagnose phantom pains, but he's still easily in her top 10 coworkers of all time because he made her a new medical record filing system so functional they were actually able to recataloge three millennia of medical records into a usable format in under a decade. He can come twitching into her office any time he likes, especially if it gets her that mass vaccination process for the Rukongai he's been biting The Old Man's heels for.

Then

as suddenly as he had appeared the first time,

He's back.

He's older now and larger, having matured into a spectacular bastard, but there's no mistaking that cutting edge on his reiatsu (which, oh, that has gotten much, much stronger since last time) or that scar running down his face as he turns from where he had just cleft the previous Kenpachi in twain, and stares out into the crowd in the shower of blood, challenging anyone to do something about it. Hell, even when Yamamoto appears to congratulate him on his promotion, Death's own angel's first reaction is to turn to fight the old man without hesitation.

He then promptly picks three different fights with four captains in under five minutes, tells Yamamoto to shove the job up his ass, imply he's had a WILD collection of vocations in the last millennium and furthermore, he has to get home to his daughter.

...Named Yachiru.

Hilariously, Unohana is only having the second weirdest time about this here, because Kaname and Kenpachi are, somehow, even weirder than she is.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be an asshole if I reached out to a DND group I left on bad terms to apologize?

I was part of the group from ages ~17-19(+ maybe half a year on either side? idk man I have memory issues). we met at least once a week, usually late at night for me (one of the players was from New Zealand) and as an extremely sleep deprived, socially awkward, ADHD, mildly suicidal teenager with unmanaged chronic pain, I suffered from chronic foot-in-mouth disease. Pretty much every time I'd try to say something out of character, what would come out of my mouth was unnecessarily hostile or just straight up the opposite of what I meant. (note: this is not what I'm asking for judgement on, I was 100% TA here)

Now, that wasn't the only problem I had with the group (the DM tended to have "main" pcs, and was a big fan of pc death and secret one-on-one channels, so more than once something would go down in secret channels that started an entire subplot and resulted in PC major injuries, death, and massive plot progression, and character arcs tended to only be developed or resolved where no one but the individual player could see it) but it was the one that caused me to get kicked from it.

The DM was really into, and very good at, making actually terrifying villains. One night, another player startled me by sneezing directly into their microphone. What I *intended* to say was something along the lines of "that was the scariest sound I've ever heard," but what I *actually* said was "That noise was scarier than anything [DM] has ever come up with!" The joke... did not come across well, and I was asked to leave, and I did so without making the subsequent spiral the DM's problem. It was honestly crushing, at least at first — that was pretty much my main source of social interaction during the pandemic, and despite our differences in preferred play styles, I'd actually had a lot of fun playing those games.

But looking back, I was absolutely in the wrong with... just sort of most of it. It's been three years, coming up on four (? I think?), and I haven't had any contact with anyone from that group since leaving. I do want to apologize for how I acted, both the incident and my behavior in general, but I don't know if I would be the asshole for reaching out after so long just to apologize (I'm not really interested in being friends, and I wouldn't rejoin even if they offered — the difference in play style really is just too much).

What are these acronyms?

[freddie-77-ao3]

sup yall we're vibing here

anyway. hey, my name's freddie, and i'm finally trying to write an actual intro/master post which... we'll see how this goes.

important stuff is highlighted in orange.

so, basic stuff:

as I said, my name's freddie. he/him pronouns. i'm a college student (majoring in accounting, might add a psych minor). not gonna say which college but i'm currently in california.

i've been on tumblr since 2019 i think? not under this account, this started as a fandom account and then spiralled out of control... really fast. um, my regular tumblr which i've not actually opened in ages is @chronicchthonic14 so. yeah.

not particularly relevant to this blog, but i might mention it at some point so, i have autism and adhd. and some other things but. like. that list is very long and those are the two most relevant because i promise if i come off wrong/mean, i didn't mean to, i just forget to make my words normal. but. those are the two most referenced. if for whatever reason someone wants to know more or has questions you can send an ask ig?

i'm scottish, born there. moved to US when I was four. finishing uni and moving back.

some quick warnings

this blog definitely contains cursing/vulgar language, whatever you want to call it, so if you're not comfortable with that, probably not the blog for you, as i don't tag cursing or anything for you to filter out.

if, for whatever reason, if i ever reblog something that contains a slur (against racial minorities, queer people, anything) i will ABSOLUTELY tag that though.

also if anyone has any trigger warnings they think any content needs, please let me know-- asks, dms, comments, reblogs

the cursing thing also applies for sort of dirty jokes? think that only applies to like. two posts and very not explicit. those aren't currently tagged but if they get any more explicit they certainly will be.

queer identity because the explicit reminded me, i'm asexual, and probably straight. maybe bi? dunno, don't particularly care. and i'm trans. ftm. this isn't the blog i talk about that on usually though, unless it relates to a specific ask or a fandom thing.

which, getting into what this blog is for because i can't think of anything else i need to add here (guys let me know if i forgot important stuff, please, i'm an idiot!!! i will forget the important stuff and write random shit instead!! i've already deleted three tangents from this!!)

sooooo

fandoms!! ones i write and/or post about or will potentially post about

percy jackson extending to hoo, toa, tkc (definitely post way less about this), mcga (again, way less). haven't read TSATS or COTG yet, but spoilers are fine. i post way more about minor characters. write fanfiction for and have some posted (both on here and ao3) and a bunch of snippets.

dcu-- films, comics, animated shows, all of it. personally, my favorites are young justice (the comics, not show version), new teen titans, and batman inc (batgirls, nightwing, and red robin esp). late 90s yj run is my favorite, and i loved the DCeased event. favorite batman comic is definitely court of owls run. no fanfics posted, but some on docs.

mcu-- way less so, but have a stucky oneshot. slowly making my way through in timeline order.

throne of glass. i'm an aedion and chaol apologizer because they do a bunch of dumb shit but then WHO DOESN'T in this series. fanfics in doc, not posted.

this would go on for ages if i listed everything so instead, here's an ask i answered on my fandoms/genres and everything. feel free to send me asks about anyone. if you send me something about radium girls i may cry though (tears of joy) so there's your advanced warning.

main things you'll see on my blog are incorrect quotes, snippets, and the occasional fic

this^^

my... idk, contact policy? seriously what do i word this

asks are always open, anon is on.

if you send hate... whatever. i'll probably delete it.

unless i find it funny. then I'll post it. there's really little you could say to me that would hurt.

when i say asks are always open, you can drop anything you want.

literally anything

you need to vent? want advice? want to request headcanons? request a fic? give me a prompt? ask random things about me? something else I've forgotten? go right ahead

if you want to ask me to update my fics? go right ahead. sometimes i forget i didn't post something.

send as many asks as you want, i don't care if it might be spam

i can't promise i'll respond to asks in a timely manner, sometimes i open my inbox and forget they exist for months, i'm sorry. if it's something you really want answered you can send another one

dm's are alright? if you want to be friends or something, go right ahead.

anyone can reblog any of my posts/comment/heart, i don't care. you want to heart 50 things in a row? i adore you. if i had kids, you would get my firstborn

if we're mutuals you can ask for my insta/give me yours.

now, other accounts:

anyway, i think that's it?

[sushisocks]

DO U HAVE ANY ANGSTY SEAN HEADCANONS??? OR ANY AT ALL??

DO I HAVE ANGSTY SEAN HEADCANONS???!? Is my tumblr url sushisocks??? I'm including just a couple non-angsty ones that are v important to me bcz we're here to have fun, after all lolol

Lets start out with a light one; Sean absolutely has ADHD and dyslexia. Everybody knows Sean can't read, but nobody asks WHY Sean can't read despite frequent opportunities to learn. Based on the camp interactions with Lenny, we know he has been willing to attempt to learn, but has given up. This reads a lot more like learning disability to me, than it does laziness!!

In a similar vein; Sean taking frequent naps/falling asleep a lot is because he's a light sleeper - he has had a hard time falling asleep and staying that way ever since his father got murdered in his bed by the law. Left an impression Sean can't really shake even when surrounded by friends and allies - it's easier to nap when it's light out and people are awake in the area. Combine that with the ADHD and suddenly he's sleeping when he's not supposed to - like on guard duty.

Btw Sean has REAL BAD nightmares so that doesn't help at ALL either

Sean's mom probably passed when he was very young - he doesn't have any tangible memories of her in the same way he does his dad. Telling stories about him is how Sean keeps the only real family he had alive.

SIMILARLY I imagine it was just the two of them fleeing to America together; Sean was right there when Darragh got killed in his sleep - I imagine him waking up to a gunshot tbh.

In previous posts I've talked some about Sean's parallels and similarities to Arthur. Consider; Sean having similar self-esteem issues as Arthur, but instead of being quiet and disparaging about it, Sean covers it up by boasting and talking a big game. Nobody tries to talk Sean up because they all think he has a big ego, and it sort of just feeds into the insecurities Sean already has & is trying to avoid thinking about.

Also; Sean is generally an open book about his feelings, but he struggles a LOT with being truly vulnerable or getting at the deeper stuff. He'll also always downplay and make a joke out of truly traumatic and desperate situations he's been in. Though he DOES tell you what happened, he's chuckling and acting like it's nothing. (This isn't even a headcanon, he actually does this very consistently. It's why Karen is so mad at him in that one camp interaction after the party lol)

The only times Sean feels comfortable not being The Camp Clown is when Dutch isn't around, with a limited amount of people to witness. He still feels weird about the fact that he did actually try to kill him, when they first met, like he actually pulled the trigger (I feel like people are prone to forget this abt him), and he's never sure if Dutch might resent or distrust him a little for it. Same goes for Hosea.

A MacSummers one I came up w on discord literally yesterday; Sean has a Claddagh ring heirloom he got from his late mother through his late father. He gifts it to Lenny at some point, who doesn't realize the symbolism, just the sentimental value. Lenny wears it on a chain around his neck.

The previous one could work for MacJones too but tbh I think it hits harder for MacSummers lol (im biased)

Sean blocked out a lot of what he experienced while holed up at Ike Skelding's; the teethpulling and the burned feet were probably some of the lighter things he had to endure.

Sidenote the fact that his feet were fucking burned being as brushed off as it is makes me fucking insane. How bad were they burned Sean? Are you in pain atm? Should you be walking?

[keywhole]

radio waves.

okay i toss this to the wolves. i've only seen like 1/4th of the game so if u tag this w spoiler mentions pls add that theres spoilers bc I Will Read Every Tag.

18+ for heavy gore. also. trigger warning for gore.

sanmos deimos/sanford lil hurt/comfort bc deimos has adhd/autism it's true he told me himself also ty @sparrowchute for editing this bc i would never 4.8k words enjoy

——————————————————————————————————

Hearing the alarms on the rooftop had sucked ass, but in the sewers? Oh, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The sound pierced directly through his headphones as if they were made of clay. They weren’t. They were a good sturdy pair of a headset; Deimos just kept them a few sizes down for them to be pressed into his head. For something he found as a joke, his dumbass trademark had become a lifesaver. He never understood the phrase “so quiet you can hear a pin drop,” until he found these. And, well, after Doc fixed them up a little, but even before that they were perfect. He could finally hear and not hear at the same time. Instead of hearing every single creak of metal or wood, pounding enemies a dozen feet from him, with stomping footsteps behind, he just heard the footsteps. Instead of being in car crashes and hearing every sputter of the engine, every shriek that the windows made as they broke, he just heard Sanford asking if everyone was okay, Hank complaining about an illegal left, and his own laughter. It was like he was a radio, and the dial finally found a sweet spot.

But somehow, those tall ass dinner bells had shot right through the shells. The headphones were no match for the blaring sound the towers bellowed, and they didn’t stop. It started out as just an annoying ringing in his ears, fine, nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But they really didn’t stop. Deimos and Sanford were careful, duh, but zeds weren’t. Little tiny pebbles that touched a goddamn pixel within their range weren't careful. Sure, yeah, it was pretty much par for the course for the two of them, but it sucked ass. And then sucked more ass. 

Every ricochet of drops hitting the sewer water echoed in Deimos’ ears. The water simply moved and bounced in his eardrums and never stopped, because that’s how water works. The old metal creaked inches from age and what lived behind the bars, and even with their sneaking and stealthy footsteps, they sounded like slams against the ground. The feeling of it too was louder to himself because it was, y’know, himself, and Deimos wanted to punch through the side of his head and close his eardrums by hand. He had considered if that would be beneficial in the long run, but they didn’t have enough bandages for all that jazz. He was in hell, and he’d have to deal with it for now. Deimos had done better with worse.

It still SUCKED MAJOR ASS though.

Especially when Sanford had simply explained a plan for once they get out of this place, and Deimos just had to find a dick joke in there, and moved his hand slightly too far to the left and set off an alarm. The same constant ringing that ripped through his skull, except it was amplified by the tunnel of steel encasing the two of them. A shit-fart of a cacophony. It got to the point where he couldn’t tell if it was a zed’s skull or his own cracking in half. The latches of the gate audibly flaked rust as they wailed open, letting a disgusting amount of sludge that pounded against the water beneath it, all combined with the swampy zeds treaded forward with footsteps that sounded like they belonged to moist giants. Not only that, but one of them (if not both) had been pushed into another alarm, which doubled the process.

In case it needed reminding in the last five hundred and eighty-seven words, Deimos wanted to kill himself.

The fights weren’t exactly a big deal physically. The second wave sort of (literally) swamped them, but it wasn’t anything the two of them couldn’t handle. Sanford was slashing his hook through skulls, using various heads as surprisingly useful hammers. Deimos switched between his gun and his bat, but he was off his game. Sanford was there, and his guard over both of them around zeds made up for it, but at some point Deimos couldn’t take it anymore. He took out his gun, and didn’t let go of the trigger. The noise was worse, the recoil creating a sound that not only shot outside his body, but inside, too. But, hey, if his ears were going to bleed, he had to do some of the damage himself. Go big or go home, and the latter didn’t have much meaning for him. So he flooded his ears until he felt Sanford pull his wrist aside.

Deimos’ head was pounding. Luckily, Sanford took a second to scan their surroundings to inadvertently  give the other a chance to compose his face. He pinched between his eyes, not a single beat in the air dropping. Everything was at a constant state of screeching, despite the outward danger being nill. He was about to consider busting his head open and ripping out whatever part of the brain registered sound when Sanford turned back around. He knew Sanford was scanning him to make sure he was okay, and at least it seemed Deimos could keep it together on the outside, in the dark. Sanford quickly gestured for him to follow, hugging the wall a bit more. Deimos knew that also meant to parrot his movements and follow him carefully.

“Up ahead there seems to be a dip in the wall,” Sanford said whispering, though it hit the other like he was speaking in his normal volume, “We should be able to at least breathe for a second.”

“Gotcha,” Deimos whispered in a desperate amount to not say anything more. He was talking as quietly as he could, an attempt to not even be able to hear it himself, but he still did. It received a nod from the other, so at least he knew he was keeping it together at the moment. They shuffled, and he put up with it, his head on a swivel as natural. His face was constantly twitching in discomfort. 

The ringing didn’t stop. It didn’t even start to ebb off.

Luckily, the little dip had been just a small, closed off alley-sorta thing. The two of them checked it out for any ironic traps, but Deimos called it quits far before Sanford and sat himself down. His ass hit the ground and his hands immediately flew up to press his headphones deeper into his head. It muffled some of the water, but the metal was loud.

Sanford wasn’t looking.

One of his hands was pressing against the edge of their little hiding hole while the other was gripping at the handle of his hook. His head was jotting around as he scanned the surroundings. The exit was in sight, but it was still quite a few tip-toes away. There was little to no telling of what was behind that door. Of what Sanford could remember, he could work out some kind of probability, but it’d be a long shot. And with shots on the mind, he thought back to how Deimos just let it rip with his gun. The coast seemed clear, but Sanford didn’t turn around when he sighed.

“You didn’t have to drop all that lead, y’know?” Sanford couldn’t be too mad, because he had spread the bullets out to save him the trouble of being tackled down, “I have no idea when we’ll be able to stock up again.”

“Hey, Sanford.” Deimos' voice was a bit out of breath, but not enough to be concerning; there was a small laugh in it. He tried for it to not sound too forced, because Sanford would notice immediately, so he kept thinking about that time Sanford blew himself up with a grenade. It had been really funny. No one had time for Deimos’ drama, and he knew that, but he wanted to peel his flesh off until that was the last resort. “Be quiet for a sec, ‘kay?”

Sanford knitted his brows. His sense of sight was more focused than his hearing, but he at least gathered a decent idea that his partner definitely needed a break. He couldn’t lie, he wouldn’t mind one himself, but he knew they didn’t have the time for his sore muscles. He didn’t like zeds. He really, really didn’t. It’s not like Deimos did either, he knew they both wanted to get the fuck out of here, but they can’t take a short rest while they’re in initiative. With his back turned, Sanford had no idea of the actual state his partner was in, but with the super funny joke he had made earlier that set off the alarms had him adverse to the idea of him taking him too seriously right now. It’s not like he was mad— no, the joke had been super funny and worth it— but again, they both wanted to get the fuck out of here.

“Deimos, this really isn’t the time to fuck around, we—”

“Sanford, seriously,” Deimos sounded annoyed, but that same rhythm was practiced in his voice, “Shut up for a second.”

Okay. Okay, that was a bit weird. Surely Deimos wasn’t doing the thing where he hides something tying him down under jokes— oh, Sanford felt like a fucking idiot for even considering the possibility that Deimos wasn’t covering something up. They still seemed safe for the time being, at least. He turned his head around to look at the other, confused and concerned.

Deimos was reaching his limit. Usually, when they found a spot they could sit, they had a quiet moment while Sanford jotted some things down and Deimos did fuckall (mostly sneaking in a cigarette) and took an actual second to themselves. This wasn’t one of those moments. His hands kept pressing and pressing and pressing his headphones closer to his head. He didn’t know if that was helping, or if it was making his circulation fucked up enough to cover up more sound. He didn’t want to be a dick, he really didn’t, but if Sanford didn’t give him a minute of silence Deimos would have to be getting his ears sewn back on when they got back. Or bash his head in with a nail bat until he could pick his own brain out; whichever would be faster, either were inevitable. Sanford was walking over to him. The only eye Deimos had opened twitched over to him for a moment, seeing only concern in his face. Despite trying to keep that feeling away from him, he found comfort in the care. He couldn’t comprehend that right now. His skin was buzzing with the reverb of every sound. Sanford’s shoes scraped against the ground in a sound that made his skin burn and sent bullets straight into his brain. His ears couldn’t stand it. The usual soothing gruff in his voice sounded like static squeaking. Deimos knew he was only trying to help. The part of his mind with sense had instantly regretted not asking for it in the first place, but Sanford didn’t shut up, let alone shut the fuck up, and the care didn’t make sense next to the rattles of metal, or the groans of rusted gates, or the sheet of crashes sewage water created. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? I have some—”

Deimos opted to push his headset against his head until the plastic was digging into him. One of his knees dug into his forehead as he killed his own ears himself. Once again, Deimos had to stumble into an alarm.

“Sanford I need you to shUT THE FUCK UP!”

Oh. Oh, shit, something was wrong. Sanford’s shoulders fell. He didn’t turn around fast enough.

The yell was loud enough for some attention to be drawn. Dammit, if Sanford had just noticed Deimos was struggling earlier he could’ve used that very convenient spot to actually help him. The gates behind him opened with moans of familiar fuckers, and another slab of guilt stacked onto Sanford’s shoulders when he realized he’d have to turn his back again. But he had to take care of this before he could do anything for Deimos, so he tugged the rope on his hook for the handle to be back in his hand. With Deimos’ hands still clutched to the side of his head, he still moved his elbow towards his gun before Sanford put out a hand. Unfortunately, he had to talk.

“Don’t— I got this, just stay here.”

He hopped out of their ratting spot and hooked the closest zed by the legs. He flung it against the wall, hopefully buying himself some time to spread the zeds farther away from Deimos. Being in the middle of it all would be a bit of a risky move alone, but he’d find a way to make it work. Deimos hadn’t looked injured (but, then again, goop thrown up on him from a sewer creature could probably cover up blood) but he looked in pain. Either way, something was wrong, and he hadn’t realized. Sanford was so good at noticing his hints, but Deimos was just as good at faking it.

A fist flew its way through a zed’s stomach, making it fall to the ground with a gross squelch, leaving Sanford nothing but a bloody fist. He lifted his boot to crush its head, his foot soon flushed to the ground as if he stepped on a rotten pumpkin. If pumpkins had a lot more blood, at least. His less bloodied arm swung his hook into the throat of another, throwing the freak into another zed to buy him time. With said time, he ended up getting punched in the face and grabbed by the arm. He fought them off with a decent amount of effort before he loosened the rope on his hook to return the punch he owed, and kicked the other zed in the chest to send it down. That same leg stayed up to kick against the standing zed’s shoulder to give him the leverage to grab the thing by the sides of the head and twist its head off. Its bones let out a crunching sigh of relief, as if they had been begging to be free of the rotting meat they were trapped in. It fell towards him, which he dodged right back to the two zeds that were standing once again as they were still held together like a fucked up shish kabob. Sanford pulled the rope tighter to his hand as he lunged himself forward and stomped on their chests. His arm ripped the blade forward, short enough for a flick of his wrist to hold the hilt in his hand. It slashed against the zed’s faces with a rough, wet tear. Good.

There was a tug at the back of Sanford’s leg that led to an instinctual kick. He spun around to see a zed with no legs reaching towards him, its spine poking out of its body. His free boot sent a quick kick up into its open mouth, easily knocking the top of its head off with a swift movement, leaving nothing but a forgotten bottom jaw. A few more surrounded him, green foam bubbling from its mouth. This wasn’t going to be easy with a single weapon. His eyes jotted down to the dead legless zed, the spine writhing out like a larva trying to escape. Sanford ripped it out of its body, feeling it creak and shatter under his hand like spikes of wood. He slammed it into the side of another zed’s head and pierced it through and through. The head stuck on the barbs of the spine kept the thick sludge of a head stuck to it as Sanford whipped around once again and scratched another zed’s face before shoving it down. He used the other, splintered end of the spine to stab another in the face, the movement causing the stuck zed head to drop to his fear and roll around the other corpses. 

It wasn’t long until most of the heads were bashed in, but there were always, always ones that still got back up. Sanford gripped his hook as he threw it forward, giving its rope some slack. He didn’t have time for this. Something was wrong with Deimos.

“Just stay the fuck down, you chu—”

With precision and instinct Sanford hopped to the right to avoid a litter of bullets heading straight towards a zed’s head. It went down immediately, and Sanford couldn’t help but turn his head. Deimos was laying on his side with a cheek pressed to the ground with his gun matching his line of sight. His cheeks felt wet, and he was really hoping it was just miscellaneous goop and not tears. In Deimos’ mind, firing a few shots was the least he could do. In Sanford’s, it instilled another set of determination. He was hurting, but still at his back to help him. Sanford gave him a stern look, but his smile was sweet; a very “this stupid, stupid man” smile.

Deimos could only fire so many bullets. Partially because it was making him go insane, and he wasted most of his ammunition in a fit of rage. Still, it sped up the process of taking the rest of them down, but even with the extra hand Sanford eventually gave him the signal to stop. Deimos didn’t know why, but he did, because his aim was getting worse with disorientation swarming his head. Sanford must’ve noticed that. Or maybe Deimos’ aim had been fucked up enough to graze his arm— he didn’t know, and as long as Sanford wasn’t screaming in pain, it didn’t seem like he had to care.

The scariest part was making sure Sanford could creep his way back into the pair’s hiding spot without attracting further attention. Deimos really couldn’t care much, as long as Sanford was okay. His feet kicked their way to the back of the wall and had his shoulders fight to climb its way up for him to (lopsidedly) sit up. With his back against the wall, he finally had his hands free to push the padding against his ears closer. The pressure on his head was uncomfortable, but so were the bullets pelting their way into his brain through sound. The protection of the headset began to press into his skin more this time, the pads flat against the sides of his head. He could feel the plastic sewing its way against his skin. Was this the last resort?

Sanford stepped back into the tiny ally while looking in each direction. 

“Safe,” He said, mostly to himself, and turned around to run to Deimos and ended up skidding on one knee to meet his level, “I’m here, I’m here, what’s up?”

An annoyed groan ripped its way through Deimos’ tired, overworked lungs. How is Sanford not getting it? With great dramatic effect with his elbows, he pressed the muffs closer and closer and harsher against his head. He could feel the plastic scrape against his skin.

That’s when it all clicked. Sanford felt as if he failed a test for not realizing it sooner.

It was pretty common for certain sounds to cause Deimos to say his ears were ringing, but they always seemed to pass. Or, at the very least, was bearable enough for him to seemingly ignore it, but this one had been constant. They had been careful, yes, but shit still happened, because they were Sanford and Deimos. When the first alarm was tripped, he thought the majority of Deimos’ aggravation at it was the surprise. But adding on the fact that a few more went off— Hell, Deimos was probably still hearing the first alarm screeching in his ears.

Sanford crouched down in front of Deimos. His face was twitching with discomfort, and his chest was rising in panic. Slow enough for Deimos to stop them, he moved to be next to him. His arms laid around his shoulders at the same speed. Deimos didn’t stop him, but he also didn’t loosen up on the force of his headphones. Sanford tried to lower his voice to a point where he could hardly hear it himself, but he didn’t know how loud that was going to be right next to Deimos.

“I’ll keep an eye out, just try to breathe.”

And then, finally, Sanford shutted the fuck up.

His hands gently laid around Deimos’. He wished he could stop shaking, but the weight of Sanford’s arm was enough to hold him a bit more in place. Sanford’s fingers laced with his and gently tugged them away from the casing of his headset. They gently lifted his hands up, only a little, so that the blood coming from the small cuts on his head would slow at some point. Sanford applied the pressure with his wrists, an amount that kept it from hurting him, by gently guiding his hands off carefully. Deimos let him. The pressure slowly released, and blood suddenly felt normal throughout his body. Sanford’s wrist still kept down the pressure while he let his hands be peeled back. Sanford was still keeping an eye out. He could breathe. Deimos’ hand relaxed against his palms. He finally untensed his own wrists, but the muffling of sound was still there with Sanford’s help. One of his arms was around his shoulders.

Deimos closed his eyes and leaned a bit more against Sanford’s arm. The light blanket of quiet that attempted to cover up the overwhelming noise of everything ever was now in his hands. The warmth, and sticky-icky shit from fighting off icky-sticky zeds, was something Deimos could focus on. Everything was still there, threatening to overwhelm him to the point of crushing his own skull with his headphones, but the small bit of reduction was now thanks to Sanford. Deimos lifted his fingers to lay over Sanford’s as much as he could. What was left of a comfortable volume was easier to focus on with the outside comfort. 

Thankfully, their hands only moved to adjust to the position of Deimos turning his head to look up at Sanford. It hurt his head and his throat when he cleared it, trying to find the right way to talk with the least discomfort while he still had time.

“Sorry,” He sheepishly said in his anxiety riddled smile, “I didn’t mean to, to uh, y’know, yell at you. Not really.” 

Sanford shook his head. He turned his body a bit more to face Deimos, his hands holding the mittens around his ears in a firm but not intense force, but his arms were relaxed.

“I know, I know— it probably hurt you a lot more than it hurt me. I get it now,” Sanford whisper-talked(?) in a way like he was trying to turn a dial on the radio, trying to find the sweet spot, “Don’t worry about it, okay? Is this helping?”

He gave Deimos more time to breathe. His hands shakily reached up and placed themselves on Sanford’s biceps, taking a deep breath in, and a long breath out. It still felt as though if the two of them lifted their hands his ears would start spewing blood, but it didn’t seem like either of them would be letting go anytime soon. Right now, Sanford’s hands were keeping that overwhelming static that threatened to incase his senses at an almost bearable bay. When he looked up, the worry and care in Sanford’s face made him glance away. That part of sense in his brain that wanted to reach out for his help before? Yeah, it's at the forefront of his brain now. And it made his chest warm, and his face hot, and a bit more guilty for accidentally yelling loud enough to make Sanford lose whatever recuperation time he had in this spot. More sensations for him to focus on.

“Yeah,” Deimos admitted when he looked back at Sanford with a hint of a smile, “A little.”

A little while ago, Deimos had been writhing in discomfort, when he could laugh with broken ribs. But the moment Sanford’s hands could take their place beneath his, Deimos was giving him an embarrassed smile. A dopey grew on his face. He pressed his forehead against his. He could hear Deimos’ smile in his laugh.

Sanford pulled back with a huff. Now he knew what the problem was and, luckily, found a temporary fix. “Okay, how’re we gonna keep this right until we can take a look at it and see what we can really do?”

Deimos grinned. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

Sanford was already nodding before Deimos even answered, because he already knew he had no fucking clue. Not only because he just knew him, but he knew how Deimos also couldn’t think when everything sounded like pot pans being slammed together. He hummed in thought, before he sat up. Softly, he reversed his hands with Deimos’. He made sure Deimos’ palms weren't pressing down too hard once they were placed on the shells, before he (reluctantly) let go. He reached into one of his side pockets before motioning Deimos to put his head down. With a confused look, he did so.

He heard the sound of fabric against the shell of his headphones. The fabric pulled tighter, similar to the added weight Sanford had applied. He felt Sanford securing something on his forehead.

“Okay, let go, see how that feels.”

Slowly, with genuine fear, Deimos lifted his hands. He blinked. It wasn’t as filtering, but it was similar. It was bearable. He moved to touch his forehead, feeling a knot with little, messy bits of fabric sticking up. “What’d you do?”

“I ripped a bandana a few days ago and kept the scrap, just in case,” Sanford said as quiet as he had been, “It’s not enough to cover up much but, hey, looks like it came in handy. How is it?”

Deimos adjusted it. He moved the fabric to the middle of his muffs, tightening the knot a bit. The creaking of the metal wasn’t as taunting. The water sounded farther away. There was only one test That could really see if it’ll work at all.

“Uuuuuhhhh,” Deimos adjusted to the sound of his own voice before he looked up at Sanford, “Say something.”

Sanford smiled. His hands moved up to hold Deimos’ shoulders. “Hi, Deimos.”

The soothingness of Sanford’s voice was back. Everything else felt like needles trying to use him as a pincushion, but needles were better than bullets. In two little words, Deimos was melting with a silly smile, finally able to straighten his vision and being held by what he saw. “Hey, Sanford. You smell like shit.”

Sanford’s snort was a happy chime in the musky air. “Yeah, because you smell any better. Works?”

“Yep, I’m just a drama queen.”

Sanford huffed. He shook his head, his hands falling down Deimos’ arm to his hands as he started to stand up. His grip wasn’t tight enough to force Deimos to stand; it was his choice to make. He took it. They didn’t let go of each other’s hands. “You’re not a drama queen. Next time, just say something, okay? Yeah, we’re in a crunch here, but there’s time for you.”

Deimos bit the inside of his lip. If he hadn’t been crying earlier, he came pretty close to then and there. He gently shoved Sanford’s shoulder, but put a hand on his bicep to keep him from actually moving. “Dammit, dude, don’t get so sentimental.”

Sanford smiled. There was his stupid, stupid man. He couldn’t help but chuckle, which made Deimos snicker under his hand before he took a step back. Unfortunately, he did have to reload his gun, because they did have to move. Sanford still kept a watchful eye out. Once Deimos was standing at the ready, Sanford couldn’t help but smirk. He flicked one of the loose pieces from the knot around his forehead. 

“If you’re a drama queen, is this your crown?” Sanford teased.

With a flushed face he waved away Sanford’s hand, the two of them in hushed laughter. Deimos shook his head, and this time Sanford knew he was fine. The playfulness in his voice was real. “I’m mostly good now, but maybe you should still shut the fuck up.”

Sanford laughed as Deimos started to walk to the opening of their hide-y hole, quickly stepping to his side. “What? Should I carry you, too, your Highness?”

Deimos groaned into a flustered laugh as Sanford grinned, gently nudging his way in front of Deimos to guide him out in the best direction. His arm still brushed against Deimos’. 

He smiled up at his partner.

“C’mon, get a move on,” Deimos said, “I still wanna get out of this place alive."

[slater-baby]

totally not self indulgent and 100000% story oriented question here- do you think that slater babe will have heavy bdsm tones?? as in petplay, degrading��� the more apparent stuff- TOTALLY story oriented and not indulgent pftt haha what thatd be crazy

hello hon!!! OKAY OKAY SO sorry I've left this one hanging in my inbox for a hot minute!! I'm not entirely sure if you're asking about a specific story, or my blog in general (or if you made a typo), but I'll try to answer this to the best of my ability regardless!! 🙏

OKAY GIRLIE I LOVE THE ENERGY HERE!! So, as far as what types of kinks I write, I try to be pretty open to everything if that makes sense? Like, degradation, name-calling, manhandling, stuff like that is pretty ubiquitous in a lot of my works (or at least I think it is aldskjfla)

Though, I will say, my works are not meant to be proper kink material/formal kink writing?? If that makes sense? Like, I don't write kink in the sense that I've delved very deep into human sexuality and consent topics, nor do I focus a lot of my energy on writing kink in its purest form.

Like, bondage with formally negotiated terms, safe words, and toys for example. I've written it before, but if I'm being completely honest, I'm not super into bondage in its traditional form. Not that it isn't interesting, I just don't find it hot by itself.

Petplay is like up in the air for me? I've never written it before, but would I be opposed to it? Probably not!! Just haven't found a situation to use it in yet!!

My preferences for smut tend to kind of fall along these lines: I like spontaneous settings with copious foreplay, and that include minimally research-intensive subjects. Manhandling, for example, is SO EASY to be spontaneous, and can also be very vanilla, while also being very extreme in certain scenarios.

Now........as for what kinks I RELIGIOUSLY write 👀 well....

Manhandling, degradation, praise, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, voyeurism, stuff like that. I've done knife play and blood play in the past!! I really like that. Gun kinks have also been a factor. Daddy kink HIGHKEY (price price price price), and impact play as well.

As for stuff that's more hardcore, I have multiple consensual non-con and dubious consent works in the making. In fact, I have one pretty graphic Simon work in the making. It's blood and knife play with graphic violence and dubious consent. Obviously, my blog hasn't had a lot of dark kinks on it, but if there is one kink for sure that I'd like to explore in writing in the future, it's consensual non-consent~

ANYWAY IN SHORT!!! I'm kinda open to everything I guess??

If you're wondering about Texas Red in particular, though (which is the only ongoing story I have right now), then I'll let you in on a few secrets 👀

Texas Red's romance dynamic is gonna hinge a lot more heavily on degradation than my other works....Simon's gotta filthy mouth :( and his girl is kind of a brat :/ you can connect the dots 😤 That, and this IS an AGE GAP ROMACNE HHHHHH I LOVE AGE GAPS

.....look guys....I know that I already made my one (1) previously allotted Daddy joke in Texas Red...........but I might....make another one....just....one more......dont tell anybody

ANYWAY WOOOO I DEFINITELY HAD A STABLE FATHER FIGURE GROWING UP!!!

Regardless, thank you so much for stopping by hon!!! sorry for this RAMBLING answer I just gave you 💀 I hope that it sort of answers your question?? and yes, before you ask, I /do/ have ADHD

HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL HON!! ❤️

[elfhunk]

if i may ramble for a moment:

i need to start volunteering in some youth programs again when my health stuff is sorted out.

i have been dealing with a lot. i am definitely pretty sick in the brain. i will remain private about the gruesome detail, but i have had to check in with myself a lot lately. it hasn't been scary. just a new phase.

but i am walking away with a singular feeling of needing to survive so i can be a better role model for men & boys than they have currently. they deserve better than this.

like... what are their options presently? twitch streamers and youtubers who are affable nice boys? grindset libertarian gym rats & supplement shills? or, y'know, fascists?

or in... increasing frequency, a combination of the three!

in an environment where we mock or patronize even the slightest deviations from hegemonic masculinity to declare carrying a tote bag as fruity.

i can't help but observe a tendency to either minimize yourself into a harmless clown, or become addicted to the pursuit of power & superiority.

i can't help but see people who describe their ideal man as a golden retriever and take pause. a feeling of dread that hits my stomach every time i look in the mirror in the gym bathroom.

i often wonder if anyone wants us to be more than that. i don't know what to do with that feeling. but i know what many other men have done with that feeling. you do, too.

it's not an insignificant piece of how we got here.

i've joked with other people who've worked in youth programs that our job was to keep young white boys from becoming nazis.

and i need to be direct. this is an issue white boys & men are facing. this is our problem.

i am looking at exit poll data and remembering how important that job was.

because i have talked to a lot of boys who still feel like there's no space for them to be a complete human being in contemporary culture.

they feel like their existence is fundamentally harmful, and that the only way to achieve a "positive" masculinity is to ask for nothing and to receive nothing in return. to be stoic and stalwart. to be an impenetrable knight in shining armor with nothing inside. they live in a perpetual state of dimly simmering shame, worried that they are only making the world worse by their existence.

most suffer silently. brief admissions of vulnerability shared usually around some kind of fire. they worry they're burdening their partners with the emotions labor. so they shut up. they man up.

or, they fall prey to the ideology promising them that their rightful place in the world has been stolen. there is a reason they're sad. there's a reason they're angry. the reason is that they no longer have the mandate of heaven. and that it must be reclaimed by force.

and that is why am worried about men.

i want to help. even if i can barely help myself out of these cyclical & self-destructive expectations.

i can't pretend that i am above this as a gay man. it's important that i don't pretend. it's important that i acknowledge the parts of me that beg me to be less of a faggot so i could just fit in and get that power back. i have to shut that part of me up. the parts of me that still fetishize images of male power and domination without a second thought.

i have to start having these conversations with the other men in my life.

there's something really not okay with us.

that's it. thank you for listening, if you are reading the thoughts of one horse who has been without ADHD medication for well over a month but has entered a sort of dissociated zen state.

it's just been the one salient thought i have had all day on the matter.

[nickeverdeen]

Hehehe could I get an Arcane and/or Nimona matchup😋 I’mma yap a lot so prepare LMAOO

My name is Kathryn (or Kat for short) and I'm in school for graphic design and communications - I originally wanted to go into cosmetology to become a desairologist, but I didn't get in. I play piano, dance (hip hop, ballet, tap, and jazz), and sing. I also produce my own music.

Idk how to classify my style so I'lI say it alternates between morute, gloomy coquette, dollette, gothic, and alternative. I also lean heavily towards the feminine side of the spectrum.

I practice witchcraft and l'm also a Christian. I have a weird fascination with dolls and I collect them, specifically porcelain dolls. Like, it's so bad LMAO my friends are scared to come into my room atp!!! Literally I'm probs on someone's rob list I have one worth $400😭🙏

I also collect vinyls. I have over $600 worth of them save me…

Some of my favorite music artists are Bambi Baker, Melanie Martinez, Solya, Elita, Ha Vay, Baby Bugs, and Mercy Necromancy. I also like a lot of rock; AC/DC, Scene Queen, Delilah Bon, BANSHEE, Gurldoll, Ashnikko (she's sometimes rock), and Ennaria

I suppress literally everything until I just burst and it’s been building for two years now so uh yay😍

My humor’s honestly really weird. I can laugh at bread falling but find a really good dad joke stupid and unfunny. I also tend to match the personality of the person I'm speaking to. I’ve also been told I’m really great at comfort but I don’t know about that. A lot of people confide in me with their problems. Like a lot..🥲 not that I mind, it just gets a bit tiring

I’m more attracted to masc leaning people but I’ve also dated fems before. It doesn’t really matter to me as long as we have chemistry, but I do find myself eyeing a lot more masculine girls.. I’m kind of attracted to men, but not a whole lot.

I also don’t like touch unless I’ve known the person for at least 6 months or I initiate it. I’ve had multiple breakdowns because someone who wasn’t a “safe person” touched me without giving any warning…… I tense up MASSIVELY when someone hugs me even if I know they’re going to. The only people that don’t have that effect on me are my best friend (who I’ve known for 4 years) and my dad.

I took a state personality test and I’m exactly 50% INFP and 50% INFJ. Legit confused the test and it gave me both💀

Im diagnosed with anxiety & depression. I've been told I might have OCD, BPD and some sort of depersonalization/derealization disorder.

I believe I could have autism or ADHD. I also have heavy hallucinations that can last either 30 minutes or 2 weeks. I have major mood swings too. One minute I can literally be bouncing up and down while wanting to blow something up and then the next I’ll be crying on the floor😭

Aaanyway I think that’s enough of me yapping have a great day babes<3

Your Arcane match is…

Caitlyn Kiramman

Caitlyn would love discussing your music collection, especially rock and alternative genres

It may not seem like it, but she has a soft spot for underground bands and loves discovering new music

Caitlyn’s patient and empathetic nature makes her a great listener, offering comfort and understanding when you’re feeling overwhelmed or anxious

She’d be your rock during your mood swings

Provides a calming presence and helpes you through tough moments with patience and care

Caitlyn respects your need for personal space and takes care not to touch you without permission, understanding the importance of consent and comfort

Caitlyn would plan unique and adventurous dates, like exploring hidden spots in Piltover or attending underground music gigs

She herself would maybe prefer a classic restaurant one, but when she tried this she prefered this

Caitlyn would like your unique style and often compliment your outfits, even suggesting accessories or outfits that might suit your aesthetic

She’d be a bit unsure and creeped out by the doll thing, though

Caitlyn would silently encourage you to express your emotions and not suppress them

Caitlyn’s love for photography would complement your graphic design skills, and you’d often collaborate on creative projects

She would cherish quiet, quality time with you

Whether it’s listening to music together, having deep conversations, or simply enjoying each other’s company

Your Nimona match is…

Nimona

Nimona’s playful nature would match your quirky humor

She’d often make you laugh with her antics and shapeshifting abilities

Nimona would love going on spontaneous adventures with you, whether it’s exploring new places or trying out new activities

Nimona’s fierce loyalty means she’d be incredibly protective of you, always ready to stand up for you if anyone tried to harm or disrespect you

Nimona would appreciate your artistic talents and often encourage you to express yourself through your art and music

Her unconventional ways of comforting might seem odd, but they’d always make you feel better, like turning into a cute animal to cheer you up

Slowly she would learn to respect your boundaries over time, ensuring she doesn’t touch you without your consent

Nimona would love discovering new music with you and often play your favorite songs during your adventures together

Despite her tough exterior, Nimona has a deep understanding of emotions and would be there for you during your highs and lows

Nimona’s idea of a date would be anything but ordinary – from sneaking into restricted areas to watching thunderstorms from a safe spot

She’d like your unique style and individuality, often praising your confidence

[hopskip-andajump]

Meowdy! Welcome to my blog :3

I go by Skip and Atlas ! :3

I use He / Him, They / Them, Star / Starself , and Chirp / Chirpself pronouns, I really like it when people use these interchangeably so please do that!!

I am a polytherian , plantkin , and otherkin! my theriotypes / kintypes are

Black Maincoon Cat

Black Tipped Reef Shark

Red Tailed Hawk

Serval

Bat

Russian Blue Cat

Mountain Lion

Sacabambaspis

Cerberus

Gargoyle

Miros Bird ( Rainworld )

Slugcat ( Rainworld )

Lantern Mouse ( Rainworld )

Rainwing ( WOF )

Amaryllis flower

I am an artist and have been for about 7-8 years :3 I don't have comms open yet but I plan on opening them soon!! here's some examples of my art!

I have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), Anxiety, and Depression (but I am currently in recovery!!)

Heres my straw page for a tldr ^-^

I POST GORE AND SUGGESTIVE CONTENT !! PLEASE BE CAREFUL ON MY PAGE

AMAZING SILLY PEOPLE !!

Downandcrafty - My irl best friend!! He's been a huge source of support for me and it is so skrungle

Kidwhomhasahat |alt 1 and alt 2| - one of my mutuals and a huge source of inspiration for me!! Plus she is very very silly :33

Lordoftablecloths - one of my mutuals ^w^ he is very cool and swag

Thef0llyofman - a fellow tourney kid and another one of my inspos!!

Sparklecarehospital - a comic I've been hyperfixating over :3 go check it out! It's very well written.

Tgcg - i think I spelt it wrong but amazing art!! Very pleasing to the eyes ^w^

Nikovolt |alt| - another moot and just a general silly person!

Scene-royaltylolz - very silly moot and a very kind person!!!

Sponseredbywalmart - one of my moots, very silly

Red-rat-ryu - my beautiful amazing partner ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Kr1ck3ts-d3n - my other beautiful amazing partner :3 ❤️❤️

Potato-in-dirt - one of my irl friends !! Shark buddies ....

makothedorito - one of my moots ive known the longest ! Pelting her with bricks :3 /vvpos

PLEASE INTERACT: alterhumans / alterhuman allies , artists , lgbtqia individuals / lgbtqia allies , neurodivergents , DOATK / MWM / mashup tournament enjoyers , NON-PROBLEMATIC Homestucks , non-problematic people :33

DO NOT INTERACT: Racists, Zoophiles , Homophobes / Terfs , Cringe Culture participaters , Proshippers , People prone to drama , generally shitty people

PAGE RULES:

Please keep like spam down to 5 posts or less ! It can be fairly annoying if I receive a shit ton of notifs ( Mutuals are exempt from this to a point )

If you like my art, reblog it ! Likes are nice, but reblogs can help more people see my art. I spend a lot of time and effort making my art and if it doesn't travel , it means that effort went to waste

DO NOT USE SHE / HER FOR ME FOR THE LOVE OF GAIA . I am a trans man and those ARE NOT MY PRONOUNS .

Please don't use it / it's for me. I know a lot of other alterhumans use those but I feel very uncomfortable when they're used for me .

Please use my preferred names UNLESS WE KNOW EACH OTHER AND YOU HAVE A NICKNAME FOR ME .

Please don't use nicknames for me unless we are mutuals

Please don't dm me unless we are mutuals

DO NOT MAKE SUI / SH JOKES! I have personally experienced both of those and they are a huge negative trigger for me . I am currently recovering and thinking too much about those things have lead me to mental breakdowns .

If I don't respond to an ask / message / comment, do not spam me please . My antidepressants make me very tired and I sleep alot because of it , so I might not get back to you immediately .

If you violate my dni or break my page rules I'm blocking you /srs

I am part of a system ! This blog is mostly used by Skip (the host), but sometimes other alters might pop in as well. Both of the ones that openly communicate type differently than I do (one types in a sort of "uwu speak' kind of fashion, and the other may replace Es with 3s), so please let them be if that happens!

Blogs for other alters ; Nep /\/\ Jolt ( One doesn't have one due to complications )

My sign offs for each of my alters are;

Skip ( Me ) - ⭐ - info above :3

Mozart - 🎸 - He / They - Doesn't front much due to complications with his source , he prefers to talk in a more " uwu " sort of way ??? idk how to describe it , but if he needs to ( or forgets lmao ) he'll talk more normally

Nepeta - ♌ - She / Kit / Any with a She / Kit preference - nonverbal , but loves to talk through other means ! Kits fairly hyper and loves talking about quadrents :3

Jolt - 📺 - She / They / Chip / Glitch - Milf energy . She talks very smoothly and uses " darling " alot . Doesn't know much about her past and struggles with remembering things . The few things she does remember are fairly traumatizing for her , so please don't bring them up !

Cirus / Lamb - 🔻- He / They - Former cult leader turned god of death . He is fairly fond of cats as his spouse was one . He's very much determined to keep the body healthy . Loves talking to people :3

Davepeta - 🍎 - She / He / They / It / Any - Whimsy lil fucker with BAADD memory . Would follow anyone who gives it apple slices . fairly new .

Jaspers / Frigglish - 🐈‍⬛ - He / Any - Also fairly new . Says whatever hes thinking . Very kind and loves talking to people :3

We love meeting doubles and alters from the same source !!!!

Here's where I got the teeth dividers!

And here's the moon dividers :3

[wyntereyez]

This is gonna be my last bit of screaming into the void. I can't decide if it's been cathartic, but it's definitely made me angry. This time, I'm gonna talk a bit about myself. I'm not gonna talk about my flaws, because I KNOW I have them, and I don't want to keep putting myself down, because I do that too much already. Instead, I'm gonna talk about something I've been slowly coming aware of, and if anyone has any advice, I'd welcome it.

I'm pretty sure I have ADHD. I've suspected it for awhile, but initially dismissed it because I assumed I completely lack the 'Hyperactive' aspect of it. Physically, anyway. Outwardly, I'm quiet. An introvert. Low energy. I've always assumed I'm just lazy - despite having the responsibilities of an adult since I was too young. You'd think I'd realize something was off, but considering how I have a mother who never did anything for us, I grew up with this horror that I'm like her.

I know now I'm not.

And now I'm starting to think I was hyperactive, but circumstances forced me to permanently mask it.

Something Neil Newbon said at a convention recently really resonated with me. He was talking about how he was always busy, because he was afraid that if he stopped, he'd be lazy.

And I'm starting to think that I was stopped long ago, and never allowed to start again.

I know it runs in my family. My youngest sibling, my half-brother, babbles along a mile a minute, and he just kinda ping pongs around different subjects, and I've never had any problems following along. It made sense to me.

According to my mom's side of the family, who knew me best when I was very young, I used to be loud, and never stopped talking. An aunt once joked that she knew I wasn't on the school bus one day because it was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. I even have vague memories of dictating a long-winded story about a winged unicorn to a little tape recorder.

And even now, there are moments where I stop overthinking things, where I'm not thinking at all, where I'll joke around, and there won't be any sort of anxiety, it'll just be natural. It's like a different person takes over my body. I'll say whatever the hell is on my mind, and it's very freeing.

So, what the hell happened?

It probably started as a child, when I first started school. I rode two different buses; sometimes I'd go to my grandmother's house, so there would be relatives on the bus with me, and sometimes I'd go home, and I was alone on that ride. Defenseless.

I have this vague memory of two teenage girls who didn't like how loud I was. So they hit me. This isn't something I've ever told anyone, because I was so very young, and couldn't comprehend what was happening.

Add in everything else that happened in my life, where I was constantly being forced into roles I wasn't suited for, expected to behave certain ways and criticized when I didn't perform... I just feel very Wrong. But I don't know how to fix it. I don't want to be stopped anymore. But I don't know how to start again.