#any chance i could get just the adderall?

[drawing-myself-in-and2-death]

sniff sniff

Is this just cocaine and Adderall mixed together???

Yeah that would be expensive

Made this as a joke when bestie commented her writing fairy must have visited me to get me to pump out 3K words tonight.

[teeth-farie]

Forty Year Old Virgin

Johnathon Ohnn/GN Reader

Notes: virginity, null spot, hole fingering, dry humping, clothed sex, kinda tribadism, spit, alcohol, spot being pathetic, 3.5k

☞. . . Seems like I’m back from my little hiatus!! I actually started writing this fic yesterday and it’s the FASTEST I’ve ever finished one. I blame the spot server I’m in

Johnathon Ohnn is thirty-eight years old. He knows this because he always liked celebrating his birthday, even if they got less eventful over the years. He still enjoyed the candles and the cake, he still enjoyed how his family would come together to sing for him and how his coworkers would sign a group card. 

Johnathon was thirty-seven when the collider exploded. He didn’t realize his birthday had passed until he looked at a calendar. And really, how pitiful was that? No candles, no cake, not even a sloppily signed card. It wasn’t until now that he realized how much he craved normality.

It wasn’t long after that he met you, significantly younger and full of spunk. It made him feel a little youthful again, like he was back in that old dorm room at the shiny age of twenty. Admittedly he didn’t do as many fun things as you did at his age, he mostly studied and contemplated taking Adderall to get through his finals, but he digressed. 

But observing you made him realize just how many things he missed out on during his youth. Sure, he sneaked a couple of his dad's beers as a teen and broke some college lab equipment he wasn’t supposed to be touching, rebellious things like that, but that wasn’t truly living. 

Before, he thought his accomplishments would speak for him; his doctorates and files of studies, his collider. But now, as he watches and listens to the dramatic reenactments of your late teenage hood and early adult life, Johnathon begins to realize maybe science isn’t the end all be all of his life. He realizes that he never went to any parties in college, he never had a quarrel-filled romance his parents disapproved of, he never traveled outside of the country aside from work—and as his eyeless gaze flits downwards, taking in the sight that is you in incredibly short shorts, he realizes another thing. 

He’s never had sex, either. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to have sex, because he really desperately did, it’s more like he never got the chance. Between his academics that shot straight to the workforce and his lack of genuine attraction to anyone around him, it got put on the back burner. 

But now it’s all he can think about. 

He thinks about it when he watches your hands gesture wildly, the way they look so agile yet sturdy. He thinks about it when your shirts are low cut or rising up your midriff. He thinks about it when you stand close to him and all he can smell is you. He thinks about it when your hips shimmy to a song you like. He thinks about it when-

Ahem. 

He thinks. A lot. 

Johnathon has never had a quiet mind, that much is true. He’s never figured out whether or not it was a good thing, but considering how much material his brain has given him for lonely nights, it can’t all be bad. 

Well. That was before the collider blew his dick clean off too. Which was another thing on his long long list of ‘Is living still worth it? I’m not too sure.’ (Except now he finally has a pro on that list, thanks to you.)

He can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous, however, hearing you talk briefly about past flings and relationships. Although he couldn’t exactly distinguish whether or not he felt jealous of your experience, or jealous of the men in your stories. He knows he could be better, even if he had virtually no experience to go off of. Despite it all, he still thinks to himself that he could make himself into someone you wanted, someone good for you. (Though he does also wonder if that’s perhaps his newly inflated ego talking.)

Johnathon sighs and holds his head in his hands. His hand briefly falls through the hole in his face and comes out of his thigh. Regardless of what he thinks could happen and what could be, he knows deep down that you couldn’t possibly be attracted to him. Still, a man is allowed to dream, right?

…

As it turns out, dreams do come true. 

Or at least a drunk, sloppy version of them. 

To be fair, Johnathon didn't think he still could get drunk, so it wasn't his fault that he was a bit heavy-handed with the bottle. It didn’t help that you were so influencing either, all too eager to dump the rest of your bottle down the hole in his face just to see where it’d go. Apparently, liquids dissolved down quickly in his voided body before they could emerge out of another hole. So, he drank. He drank because it was the first time he could feel any kind of normalcy, he could feel like he was human again. Unfortunately for him, he's still just as loose-lipped when drunk as he was before the collider incident. 

You swirl the foamy remnants of beer in your bottle, watching it swirl through the brown glass before swallowing it down with a tip of your head. Johnathon watches the way your throat bobs as you swallow, entranced. You breathe out, satisfied, and set the bottle down on the coffee table amongst all the others. 

“Y’know,” You begin, leaning back against the couch cushions, legs curled up comfortably to your chest. “You’re not as bad looking as you think.” You’re squinting your eyes a little at him, as if you were examining his body. “Lotsa people are into your kinda thing.”

Johnathon’s face hole constricts a little as if he were narrowing his eyes. “My kinda thing? What’s that supposed t’mean?”

“You know! Like…like not human looking.” You’re still looking at him, grinning, fingers picking at the hem of your pajama pants.

He makes a sound like a scoff. “That’s not really a compliment…”

You whine in subtle frustration. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant like, you have different kinds of qualities. Good qualities.” You poke your finger out at him, jabbing his chest. Your fingertip sinks into one of his inkblot holes and it gives Johnathon a feeling that he knows he’ll be thinking about later tonight when he's all alone. You replace your finger to actually poke his chest now, the smooth, almost rubbery skin of him. He shivers a little nonetheless. 

“What…” he swallows thickly. “What kind of qualities?”

You continue to idly run circles over his chest with your index finger, humming softly to yourself. “I know the regular things, like how much of a good listener and talker you are. You know lots about stuff. And you also are like, super eager to please. That’s gotta be a good quality too.” 

Johnathon looks down at your hand, his black little heart thumping in his chest. It’s almost too intimate for him to bear. 

“Oh! And your holes!”

“My…my holes?”

“Yeah, I bet you can do some crazy things with them.”

“Oh god–” He nearly chokes at the thought running in his head.

“Yeah,” you continue, pulling your hand back to yourself. Johnathon hates how it makes him feel lonely. “I once met a guy who had crazy holes, haha, you could fit a whole fist in ther–”

“OH wow, really?” He quickly cuts you off, his paper-white face flushing a dull blue. He flaps his hands a little, as if it could cool down both his flustering and spiking jealousy. “I don’t think you should k-kiss and tell, right? Isn’t that a thing we’re not supposed to do? Kissing and…telling?” God, he really wants to know what it’s like to kiss you. 

“Oh, c’mon! I know there has to be at least something you’ve done that you just gotta talk about. What is it, huh? Weird partner? Did they have a weird fetish?” You gasp suddenly. “Oh god, a pregnancy scare maybe?…pregnancy fetish?” 

“No, no, none of that!” Johnathon waves his hands out in front of him rapidly, hoping to quell your questioning. “I’ve never uh- never really–”

“What, are you vanilla? Usually, nerds are like, SUPER kinky–”

“I’ve never had sex!” Curse him and his loose lips. 

The air goes still amongst the sudden silence and Johnathon begins to regret ever speaking. Actually, scrap that, he regrets ever being born. Well, it’s actually not like he really had a choice in the matter, but that's beside the point.

Then, you snort a little. “You’ve gotta be joking, right? Aren’t you like, forty?”

His face hole shrinks down nearly to the side of a pinhole in both embarrassment and frustration. “I-I’m not forty! I’m thirty-eight! A-and besides, lots of people don’t have sex until they’re older! Or at all!”

“Oh my god, this is like that one movie, what’s it called, uhh,”

You tap your chin, completely ignoring him.

“I should have never said anything, I’m such an idiot—“

“No, don’t say that!” You poke his chest again, whining when he recoils from your touch. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make fun of you, I’m sorry.”

Johnathon huffs, grabbing one of the half-full bottles and dumping it down his face hole. It scrunches slightly in what you’ve begun to assume is swallowing. You pout and scoot up closer to him. “Johnny…” 

He chokes a little, his gangly body going stiff. “Y-yeah?”

You grab his face, fingers pressing against his pale, rubbery cheeks. “You wanna do it?”

For a moment, Johnathon feels like the world has gone still. Everything is muffled and slow as the realization dawns on him. “Wuh-what?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You repeat, squishing his cheeks after each word like you were making him say them too.

“Yes! I-I mean, I would really like to, you’re so pretty, b-but uh, I’m a little, hah, how do you say it, ohmygosh this is harder than I thought it’d be! Uhm!” He flusters and rambles, hands flapping in front of his chest, and you’re just waiting. You’re looking at him with lidded, bedroom eyes, and Johnathon thinks he finally understands the meaning of that word. 

“I don’t have, I don’t have a penis!” 

A beat goes by, and then another, and he begins to feel like he blew his only shot with you.

“Do you have a vagina? It’s not an issue for me, I wanna fuck you either way.”

Jesus Christ, you are going to kill him. 

“I mean, I don’t have anything.” He breathes out, shoulders deflating. “The uh, the whole collider thing got rid of it all.”

“Oh man, that’s awful.” You pat his shoulder, looking at him with sympathetic eyes. “But, y’know, the offer still stands…maybe we can get a little science-y and figure out how to get you off, eh?”

Johnathon lifts his head and finds you grinning at him. “Science-y?” He repeats, his face hole crinkling like a smile. 

“Yeah, dude! Science-y! Hypothesis! Theories! Quantum holes! Your holes!”

He snorts and it leads into a laugh, a deep belly laugh that he hasn’t been able to do in a while. And really, why the hell not?

His laugh dies down when you get closer, straddling his thighs and seating yourself down in his lap—and god, he can feel those short shorts he loves riding up your thighs and wrinkling against his skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” You croon, leaning in and nudging your nose under his chin. If Johnathon still had a dick, that would have sent blood right down to it. 

His inkblot holes quiver amongst his body, undulating and jumping across his skin like microscopic particles, bouncing against each other under a microscope. Your face gets closer to his, lips hovering over the entrance of his face. Gently, curiously, you purse your lips and kiss the voided space. It’s almost as if there’s a thin membrane separating the outside world from the inside of him, cool to the touch and like bubblegum stretched thin. The membrane melds against your lips like it’s kissing you back and when Johnathon shivers, it puckers and purses. 

His hands tremble, hovering above your hips and thighs, as if it’d burn him to touch you properly, despite how much he craves it. 

Your tongue drags over the edge of his face hole and Johnathon practically whimpers. You’re humming softly, one hand idly stroking his arm as the other feels up his chest. He used to be a tad bit insecure about his pudgy torso, but with so many spots, he had other things to outweigh the worry. But now he can’t help but hold his breath, waiting for your approval of his body, the kind he so desperately needs.

“Cute.” You say mostly to yourself, dipping your fingers into a hole in his chest. He sighs out heavily in relief and pleasure, his head thumping back against the edge of the couch. 

“How’s this feel?” You poke and prod into the hole, pressing past the same kind of membrane as his face. Vaguely, you feel your fingertips come back out of another hole, but you don’t focus as much on that part. 

“Good,” Jonathan answers curtly, sucking a breath through his nonexistent teeth. When he exhales, it's shuddery and almost pitiful. “It’s good, it’s like- like there but not,” 

“So you can feel it? What if I do something like this?” Curiously, you curl your fingers in the empty space, and a fuzzy feeling coats your skin as if your fingers were pruning yet stayed completely dry. He yelps loudly, his body lurching and he finally grabs onto you. His fingers dig into your thighs on their own accord and you are absolutely delighted with it.

“Oh god!” He cries, his thighs shifting and squirming under your lap, and you start to feel something poking at your ass. You give a confused hum, lift your hips and look down. Nope, he still doesn't have a dick, but the empty space between his legs has seemingly swollen into a small, adorable bulge. Johnathon breathes out heavily and follows your gaze.

“Wow, that’s so cool…” You reach down between your laps and grind the heel of your palm against the bulge.

He gasps sharply. “Oh, fuck me!”

“Yeah, that’s what I'm trying to do.” You snicker impishly. You observe the way the squishy bulge flushes with color around the surface, almost like a blush. “I bet that feels really good, huh? It’s kinda like you have a really big clit. Sorta” You squish it in your hands and he shudders, shoulders tensing and inkblot shrinking. “Hey, you know what would be fun?”

Johnathon feels a little loopy, his stomach filled with butterflies and his brain thoroughly mush. He considers this endeavor so far to be successful considering the fact he didn't think he still could  feel pleasure. But here you are, proving him wrong once again. 

“Wh-what would?” He finds himself asking, rutting his hips up into your hand like a depraved little thing. 

You don’t answer verbally yet, just sit back down on his lap and rock your hips against his. “If you fucked yourself like this.” Your fingers curl back into one of his holes, running up and down the edge of it. Johnathon melts, blubbering out nearly unintelligible pleas. 

“You can do it, right? I’ll keep fingering you if you hump me like a dirty dog.” 

And oh, that does things to him. He’ll…have to address that new kink later. 

“Yes,” he gasps, grabbing on tightly to your hips and canting his hips up, grinding his bulge against your sex. “Yessss!” He can’t help but cry it out, his smooth head burrowing itself in the crook of your neck from the sheer intensity of it all. The heat of you is almost unbearable on his body, inside his holes. And he really is panting like a dog, he’s humping you like he actually has a dick to work with, like you could grab him and stroke him until he was a weeping mess. 

“That’s it, you don’t wanna be a virgin anymore, right? C’mon, show me what you’re made of, you little nerd.” You’re cooing to him like it’s praise, and with the way you’re stroking the inside of him, pressing your fingers past that membrane and curling until the fuzziness is almost unbearable, you might as well be.

Johnathon moans wetly against your neck, legs widening and hands holding your hips down firmly as he ruts. He grinds his aching core against you, practically delirious and melting with every saccharine whisper in his ear. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you hear him say, muffled against your skin and devious delight spreads through your entire being. You hook your fingers into the hole of his face and he cries out, a debauched “Ah! Ah!” as you lift his head up. His inkblot holes shiver violently, and you hold his face in your hands like he’s your entire world, like he’s the only thing that matters to you.

And then you lean in, holding his face so carefully—

And spit.

The man below you gurgles, your spit falling down the hole in his face as a viscous glob tasting faintly of beer. Johnathon thrusts his hips up once, twice, and he’s cumming. Nothing comes out of him, but you swear you can see the holes of him drooling, dripping liquid dark matter that hurts your eyes a little to stare at too long. Pleasure blooms in you at the sight and feeling of his incessant rutting, your hands petting his head as his first orgasm in so long washes over him.

And finally, he slumps back against the couch, trembling under you, the surface of his face flushed with color. You lift yourself off his lap, your shorts still wet with your own arousal, but you’re not done with him yet.

“It’s no good to leave your partner high and dry, you know?” You tease him, and the realization dawns on his faceless face. 

“O-OH! Oh, I’m so so sorry! I-I didn’t mean- that wasn’t my intention at all! Wh-what should I do? What do you like? Oh god, I’m so sorry—“

You quiet him by lifting his gangly legs up, exposing him even further. “Don't worry about it, it’s your first time! That just means I’ll have to use you.” That evil little grin is back as you brace one foot on the floor and the other on the couch cushions, slotting your hips against his. Poor Johnathon is practically folded in half, one leg hanging over your shoulder and the other dangling uselessly to the side. 

You don’t waste any time either, you get right to it, hips thrusting quick and hard against his over sensitive bulge. And oh, how he squeals. He’s always been a talkative man, but he never could have anticipated being this vocal. 

“Uhgn! Hah! Mmm-mmph! I-I can’t! S’too much, too much!” He babbles on, sights locked on how your hips connect with his, ruthlessly grinding and rutting and it reminds him of some kind of wild animal. 

“You can, huff, take it. Jus’ a lil more,'' your head hangs low between your shoulders, arousal twining together deep in your gut. Johnathon feels it too, and he feels it tenfold. His body feels like it’s on fire, steadily submerged in pleasure until he’s burning alive in it. He can’t take how you look above him either, so goddamn ethereal, the dim overcast of the tv lighting you from behind like a digital halo, as if you were an angel sent to soothe him after such chaos. Johnathon was never a religious man, but for you, he thinks he could be.

It only takes you a little longer, already so wound tight from before. He’s dangling on the precipice of release again, delirious with lust, clinging onto the back of your neck and tugging you in.

You find your face inside of him when you cum, and somehow the deprivation of sensory makes it all the better, colors popping up in your vision like synesthesia. You can feel his thighs tighten around you with his budding climax, but you can’t see, and you already know how you regret that. You suppose you’ll just have to overstimulate him again one day when he can’t hide himself from your view.

Johnathon goes limp and you’re finally able to pull your face from the inside of his, the dark matter sliding free from your skin like an unsticky slime. It’s weird, but oddly refreshing.

Cum stains the inside of your shorts but it’s the last thing on your mind when you take in the visual that is Johnathon. He practically glows with post coital bliss, seeped back into couch cushions without the tension you’re so used to. 

You let his legs fall back down, slumping into the seat next to him. He hums softly in delight, kinda loopy, entirely pleased. 

“So?” You question him, idly stroking his soft chest. It’s sweaty in its own way. “Was that good for your very first time?” You waggle your brows at him and he snorts, albeit a little weakly.

“Incredibly so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good in my life.”

You clap happily. “And you’re no longer a forty year old virgin!”

“I told you I’m NOT forty!”

[thewriterwithsnakes]

Dead and Depressed - A Dynamic Duo

Summary: You meet the ghost with the most- or as you call him, Mr.Mold, and he makes for an odd source of comfort during a depressive episode.

Warnings: basically none, depressive symptoms and slightly out-of-character beej

It started a few months ago when you bought your new, well actually quite old, house. It was charming and cheap, exactly what you needed. Was it cheap because absolutely nobody wanted to buy it due to its supposed possession? Yep, that is what you were told. But cheap is cheap and you could handle some flickering lights, right? It only took a few days after moving in for the weird shit to begin. Now, to set the record straight, you didn't really have much opinion on ghosts. You liked spooky stories when you were younger and all that, but you never really pondered the reality of it. That was, until one ghost began annoying the shit out of you. What began as small, easily excusable happenings such as a moved mug or pan, turned into your couch being moved to the opposite wall and flyers plastered all over your house to summon whoever this bio-exorcist was. If you hadn't just bought a house and had the funds, you probably would've debated an actual exorcist. But you were broke and frustrated so you decided enough was enough and no one, living or dead, would ruin this house for you. You sat on your bed, paper in hand, debating your options, or more like procrastinating the problem. A sharp inhale was followed by the three words that would turn your life upside down -a quite literal prank Beetlejuice pulled a few weeks after- "Betelgeuse Betelgeuse Betelgeuse!" You shouted in quick succession. Like ripping off a bandaid, right? A cloud of green smoke appeared in front of your bedroom window, and once the smoke cleared, a disheveled pale guy stood in your bedroom, arms spread wide. "It's showtime!" He exclaimed, punctuated with an eyebrow wiggle. Ypu stood quickly, but before you had the chance to react, he was suddenly behind you, both freezing cold hands gripping your shoulders as he leaned in. "So, uh, what can I do ya for, babes? Need a pitchfork? A sandworm? I can kill any ex ya want babes just name 'em!" He was surprisingly energetic for a dead guy. Even alive, you didn't have this much energy to bullshit around. He was moving around so quickly and jittery that you wonder if he was taking too much Ghost-Adderall. Or maybe he needed some Ghost-Adderall.

"Uh hey! Babes? You uh listenin' there hon'?" He snapped his fingers infront of your face and it brought you out of your thoughts.

"Who the fuck are you?" You blurted, drawing a blank on what else to say. He threw his head back and laughed it right off, both figuratively and literally. After popping his head back on like a cartoon character he spoke. "Well you called me babes, ya know you should really figure out who you summon before you summon 'em. Well you already know my name- oh and by the way be a doll and don't say it again- but I am the ghost with the most babes. I can get ya anything you want just put a name to it! I've been haunting this place for a while now and some fresh meat has been quite easy on the eyes." Beetlejuice made no effort to hide his blatant staring as he checked you out. The way his eyes traveled up and down your body made you shiver uncomfortably. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

Sighing, you stepped into your house. Your shoulders sagged and you released your bag from your hand, today you didn't care to be careful with the contents. You could hear Beetlejuice doing god-knows-what in the living room but you chose to ignore it. Instead you headed up the old creaky stairs to your bathroom. Pulling the faucet handle, you dipped your hands beneath the soft stream before gently rubbing the cool water onto your face and behind your neck. Risking a glance in the mirror, you caught sight of the tired eyes and the face that haunted you. You turned away, disgusted and hopeless. Stepping out of the bathroom, you debated for a few moments on what to do. Beej would be able to distract you and he was just downstairs, but today you didn't have the energy to do more than lie down. So you took the few short steps down the hall to your room and flopped on the bed, not minding to take off your shoes or get out of your work clothes. Today you were absolutely beat. Work was fine as per usual, nothing too exciting. Some days you just shut down for no apparent reason. You let your thoughts swirl as you clutched a pillow limply to you chest. You wanted comfort but some part of you also whispered in your ear about how you didn't deserve it. And today, you didn't have the energy to fight it or ask for help. After a few long minutes of self pity and doubt, Beetlejuice knocked softly on your door. You sat up with furrowed brows. Him? Being soft? His way of asking to come into your room was nonexistent, he would waltz in whenever he pleased (much to your horror on more than one occasion). You were suspicious but ultimately didn't have the energy to think of some funny quip or snarky comment. Instead you gave a small 'come in' and hoped he'd leave once he got what he wanted. Then came a sight unknown to you, Beej was in his pajamas (not totally rare but also not common) and a soft expression graced his face that you didn't recognize on him. Pity? Concern? Worry? None of those fit Beetlejuice. He took a few steps into the room, noticeably lacking his usual manic energy, and promptly laid down next to you. Before you could even speak he was pulling you down next to him and curling around you. "Beej! What are you-"

"Can it, babes," A can tab was promptly holding your mouth shut and you tried to protest with muffled sounds but to no avail. "I can tell you had a rough day again. Now just quiet that pretty little head of yours and relax for a while okay? I've got ya," You snorted, hearing how sweet and annoying he could be at the same time. You obliged, letting yourself relax into the arms of the ghost. He waved his hand in a dramatic gesture and the can tab was gone. You rolled over to get comfier and buried your head in his chest as he ran cool, soothing circles on your back. Maybe he was the weirdest, creepiest, and most wacko guy -dead or otherwise- you'd ever met. But maybe, just maybe, you didn't really mind it today.

[actuallyadhd]

hi…i recently discovered that there is a very high chance i have ADHD. after doing lots of research, i brought this up to my therapist, who also has ADHD. she had me do a screening, told me she’d noticed the signs awhile back & believes i have it; however, she is not authorized to give an actual diagnosis. later, i talked to my doctor about it to see if it would be worth seeking one & what my options were. she told me that to get a diagnosis i’d have to see a psychiatrist, which would take at least a year because of wait times. but she asked if, for the time being, i’d like to be prescribed a 7-day supply of 15 mg adderall to see if it helped. ive done an okay job managing symptoms throughout my life, but some of them have really taken a toll on me, especially emotional dysregulation, so i thought it was worth a shot.

but im on day 3 of the pills and i don’t feel any different. ive looked all over reddit & see people saying that it kicks in instantly, but i haven’t felt that at all.

is this normal? should i be concerned that’s something’s not working right? could this be a sign that i dont have ADHD? and in that case am i harming myself by taking this medication?

sorry to dump this here. im just extremely new to this & i dont know what i should be expecting.

Sent August 5, 2024

Okay, first of all, a medication trial is not a reliable diagnostic strategy. Different meds work for different people, and it can take time to find the right dose. So don't worry about that.

Not feeling any different isn't a sign that the medication isn't working. It's possible that things are different but you aren't noticing because the changes are subtle. It's also possible that the dose is wrong and you need a higher one or even a lower one. Or you need a different medication. In particular, if your biggest issue is emotional dysregulation, guanfacine (brand name Intuniv) can be very helpful for that.

I think it's worth getting on the wait list for the full assessment, but also talk to your doctor about trying something else in the meantime.

Followers, what are your experiences with medication just after diagnosis? Can you offer any advice here?

-J

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam, how did you come to the conclusion you should be tested for neurodivergence? I've been reading a lot of Temple Grandin (Visual Thinking is fantastic) and see so much of myself in her books. But, I, too, am, let's just say well into adulthood, and I don't know if my life would change that much with a diagnosis. The only thing I can think of doing with a diagnosis is telling my siblings and childhood bullies that they picked on someone who had a reason for being "weird." But it doesn't change anything. Beyond the medication, did you find any solace? Thank you for sharing your journey.

I was just thinking I should do a post about this....

I don't recall the specifics and have never been able to find the post again, but sometime prior to 2019 I made a joke about having a short attention span, and someone said something like "Oh, did you finally get a diagnosis?" and I said haha no, I don't have ADHD, and a bunch of readers went, "Uh, you very clearly do." Some of them added that they thought I knew and was just being discreet about it. (As if I have ever been discreet about anything in my life.)

So I figured, okay, probably there's some level of neurodivergence there, given that my mother and siblings all have various diagnoses, and my father was clearly autistic. (Knowing what we know now about how ADHD can mask as other mental illnesses, there's a strong chance this comes from my maternal grandmother, who was the person in the family I was most like when she was alive.) I tried a couple of times to get evaluated and always had either slow or nonexistent responses from the clinics I reached out to, so I stopped trying. I had a ton of coping mechanisms in place and was in a good spot in my life, so I thought honestly, what would it change?

But by the end of 2021, while I was still in a pretty good financial place, and my career was doing well, I could tell that if things kept up as they were I was going to tank my job purely through being unable to get through a day doing productive work the way I used to.

I thought, well, if this is ADHD and it's getting worse because the whole fucking world is on fire, I have two options: I can assume I have it and just do the reading and figure shit out on my own, or I can get evaluated, get professional advice, and possibly get medicated. That seemed like the best return on investment, so that's what I worked on. My goal was primarily medication, because I didn't see myself being able to change much else about my situation on my own. And, truthfully, medication has been the biggest change -- I actually have an essay about that queued for the anniversary of my starting Adderall. But while it hasn't been a massive life-altering world-shattering change, all of this was worth it purely for the medication.

Uh, momentary sidebar in my memoir: there are downsides to having a diagnosed disability -- discrimination, legal barriers to certain things like holding government jobs or adopting, etc. Those have to be weighed when you're considering evaluation. If you think you may have autism, there's not necessarily an advantage to having a formal diagnosis unless you need accommodations; if you think you may have ADHD, the huge advantage is access to medication, which doesn't exist for autism as far as I'm aware. So your particular flavor of neurodivergence might dictate whether you get a diagnosis, or whether you just start operating on the assumption you have it. Both are valid, I think, it really depends on what's going on in your life and what you want to change.

Anyway, I have been doing other research, reading journal articles and pop psychology and talking to people, and that's been good, but even if I had none of that, the medication has been so helpful in getting me back on an even keel and then making life even better.

This sounds kind of weird to say but I'm not generally someone who needs a lot of solace. There is some relief in knowing that at least some of my fuckups in life weren't something I could have prevented by simply having more strength of character or working harder, and that's nice, but it's something I could have had without a formal diagnosis -- just like you could simply tell your siblings and bullies you have a diagnosis. (Being real, I doubt they'd care; bullies gonna bully whether you had a reason to be weird or not, and none of that would have been your fault regardless of your neurology. But it's all very situational, as I'm sure you know.) I wasn't badly bullied as a kid and there's nobody really to...tell, in the sense you're thinking of. But I didn't get into it for emotional solace; I got into it to fix a life that was, albeit extremely slowly, starting to fall apart. So if you're someone, as most people are, who derives emotional satisfaction or catharsis from having the diagnosis, I think it probably would be pretty helpful. But even if you aren't, like me, if you can get medication or accomodations, I think it's worth it.

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 9 thoughts:

Not enough of my daughter. Where is my baby girl? Though I do enjoy getting different PoVs. It'll work for a little bit.

Weld is neat. Didn't feel great about him at first but he grew on me. His scene with Vista made me love him. He's a good kid. (He should probably have learned Aegis, Gallant, and Browbeat's names before talking to the team the first time though)

On the note of that scene - THEY HAD A THERAPIST THIS ENTIRE TIME? The Wards had a therapist available to them and no one was having them see said therapist after 3 of their teammates died? Piggot is so bad at this.

Me reading Flechette's chapter with the aim of making her gay as I have done with everyone else: "Oh wow this is a really easy one!"

I wanted to see more of Parian sooo badly after I first saw her and I'm so fucking glad this is how I see her! Flechette and Parian are wonderful and I hope they get gay married and retire together.

Me saying that probably highly increases the chance that one of them dies in the future.

I'm very glad Flechette gave up on Shadow Stalker. I like Flechette and she shouldn't have to deal with that asshole.

I feel so bad for Clockblocker. He's just a kid and his dad is dying and that sucks. I wanna bake him some cookies or something.

The professor of that class was so clearly identifiable as "one of those professors". All "up until now you haven't had to think, but in Parahumans 103 you'll need to think and I'm not gonna baby you yada yada". It's still just a 100 level course dude, geeze. Get off your high horse.

Clockblocker and Vista are siblings and I love their dynamic.

Despite me feeling for these kids some, the second the Travelers started clowning on them I was enjoying the shit out of myself.

Fucking Trickster is just so much damn fun. His powers are cool and he really lives up to his name. I love him.

Glory Girl getting rocketed off into the sky by Ballistic had me in tears from laughter.

Kid Win has ADHD. I was sure Kid Win had ADHD before I even started on the Kid Win chapter where he says he has ADHD. Someone get this kid some Adderall. And some therapy for all that self doubt and imposter syndrome.

Kid Win also didn't even hesitate to illegally spy on Chariots personal computer by hacking into the wi-fi, so that doesn't give me great confidence in the Wards following rules. Or any heroes. I'm sure that won't ever come up again though.

These Slaughter House Nine guys I'm sure won't be a big deal. They won't do horrible things to hundreds of people. Gonna be taken care of by heroes off screen during the next arc. No worries at all!

Vista joined the team when she was 10? The superhero team that has to deal with death on a semi-regular basis and terrifying violence all the time. That team. She joined it when she was TEN?! Shitty system you guys have here!

Saved the best for last - SHADOW STALKER GETTING FUCKING MEMED ON BY MY WONDERFUL DAUGHTER! (And my daughters friends)

God I wasn't sure about her chapter at first. She is so mean and I didn't necessarily want to spend a long time in her head watching her be mean. But then my daughter showed up in a swarm of bugs and fucked up a bunch of Nazis and I knew everything was going to be ok.

The instant Shadow Stalker started to follow Skitter I knew she was gonna get fucking wrecked. I don't know why I knew, maybe I just know my daughter well enough. But no matter the reason I was so happy to watch it happen. Wasn't worried for Skitter at any moment cause I knew she was gonna bitch slap this asshole.

Just. Damn I fucking LOVE watching my daughter just be a goddess of bugs and go to town.

I could keep going about Shadow Stalker getting absolutely destroyed for who knows how long, so I'll just have to stop myself.

And we see a new person with the Undersiders, did Aisha get her powers? I'm so happy for her! I can't wait to see what they are.

Imp is a great name and it's kinda fucking bonkers it wasn't taken by somebody else already.

Did I mention Shadow Stalker getting clowned?

Cause she did.

Just completely baited and then my wonderful baby girl even got to tase her. I'm so happy for her. Sometimes a little violence is the answer.

[strxwberrybtch]

A Hellish Love Story // Pt. 1

Pairing(s): Vox x F!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol and Drugs

A/N: Hello my lovies! This is my first fic here on tumblr- it's a little short butttt I'm hoping to make this a multi-part series. This will definitely be a NSFW series with eventual smut ;) I would love to hear your input on this first part! Without further ado, enjoy :)

---

In life, the art of literature enthralled you. It captivated you in more ways than one. The way that words could transport you to another place completely fascinated you. At first, you treated it as a hobby or one could argue a distraction. One to drown out the harsh words that your parents constantly threw back and forth at each other.

It was no surprise that you found yourself constantly with a pen and paper in hand, jotting down your never ending ideas. You started taking it more seriously once you started high school. Normal english classes didn't excite you as much as the creative writing course did. Once you were done with school, you began to devote your young adulthood to writing. You quickly found a sufficient job and instantly got to work. All you wanted was to do was share your creative visions with the world. You wanted people to feel the passion and emotion that you felt while writing it.

It was a somewhat peaceful day at the shitty office you worked at. You had pulled an all nighter the night before working on a screenplay. Not just any screenplay though. This had to of been your best work yet. It was your ticket out of the slums and to the big leagues. This was your chance.

You sat in your tiny cubicle typing your heart away. Solely relying on caffeine and adderall- which you may or may not have abused from time to time. But this was your livelihood, your purpose in life if you will. The sun had slowly began to set at the office. Many of your fellow peers were chit-chatting about their plans for the weekend. You easily tuned them out as you focused on the writing in front of you. Feeling a wave of tiredness, you popped another pill into your mouth- washing it down with your coffee. The adrenaline and thought of being so close to being finished had you eager and motivated. You almost didn’t acknowledge the loud screech of the building’s fire alarm.

Apparently a fire had broken out and quickly began to ensue absolute chaos within the building. Of course with the building being in a not so fortunate area- the sprinklers had stopped working years ago. While your coworkers scrambled to escape the ever growing deadly smoke and flames, you stayed behind at your desk. You anxiously gnawed at your nails, waiting for your files to download onto a usb drive. You cursed at yourself for getting carried away with writing and not saving throughout the day as you usually did. Your career's future was on that computer. You’d rather die than lose it all.

Unfortunately that’s where your human life had come to a fiery end, engulfed in the flames along with your life’s work. So you assume that’s why you ended up with fiery, crimson eyes and the ability to manipulate fire. Ironic.. in a shitty sorta way. Scratch that… a very shitty way.

After seeing ‘Writers Wanted’ at the end of a VoxTek commercial, your heart fluttered at the thought of pursuing your passion in the afterlife. Hell, you did die for it so you might as well give your death meaning. You quickly memorized the address and beelined it to the VVV tower.

Given your obvious passion for the job, you were immediately hired by a higher up employee, of course with the quick text of approval from Vox. After getting a brief job description, you were over the moon excited. Writing scripts for TV, like are you kidding?? You had spent your entire mortal life trying to get to that point in your career. Who woulda thought all it took was well… your life.

You didn’t have think twice before signing over your soul to the demon overlord. Why would you? Selling your soul in exchange for your dream job was an easy decision. Especially since it came with great pay and an apartment to live in.

As for Vox though, you really never saw him too much. When you did he always gave a charming smile your way which you kindly reciprocated. He was undeniably attractive, even with a TV for a head.

Whilst working at the V tower you were able to meet the one and only adult star, Angel Dust. He quickly introduced you to Cherri Bomb, and boom (no pun intended) your trio of friendship was born.

It’s been a few years since then and that’s how you ended up here, sitting at your desk aimlessly typing away listening to a very whiny spider demon.

“Come onnnn Y/N!! We haven’t gone out in forever and we both have the night off for once” Angel exasperated, throwing his arms up into the air, desperately trying to convince you to go out with himself and Cherri.

You sighed quietly to yourself knowing this wasn’t going to end soon. He had been going on and on about how you work too much and haven’t been able to have fun for the past 20 minutes now. You rubbed your temples and took off your blue light glasses. Quickly closing your laptop and spinning around in your chair, you were met with Angel laying upside down on your bed, with his head hanging off the side.

“Okay! Fine! You win! And you shouldn’t lay like that,” You laughed while leaning down to lightly flick his forehead.

Angel swatted your hand away and sat up. Though you could tell he did it too fast after he placed a hand to his head, feeling dizzy from all the blood rushing back to the rest of his body. All you could do was shake your head and smile at the goof.

“HAHA YES!! I’ll text Cherri and let her know. Now get your ass up outta that chair and get ready! Show them what all of hell’s been missin lately,” He winked and quickly picked up his phone to message the missing piece to our trio.

You rolled your eyes briefly and went into your bathroom to make yourself look presentable.

“Can you find me something to wear pretty pleaseee!” You shouted from the bathroom.

“Oh you know I gotcha toots,” By hearing the muffled tone of his voice you could just tell he was smirking. You had a feeling you’d regret asking for his help but quickly shook the thought away. Angel was right. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you went out with your two troublemaker friends. It had to of been at least a few months. You needed this.

You deserved this.

With one last glance at your bare, tired face you got to work. Seeing as it had been forever, you decided to go all out. It took only about an hour or so for you to be satisfied with your hair and makeup. Once finished you came out of your bathroom to see Angel was no longer on your bed. However replacing him was the outfit he had picked out for you.

A simple black crop top, the shortest denim skirt you owned, a silver chain belt that connected with hearts, and to top it all off a pair of black chunky heeled boots. He knew you all too well.

After putting on the outfit you stared at yourself in the mirror. You almost didn’t recognize the reflection in front of you. It reminded you of when you were in high school. Sure you were addicted to writing but your living friends were a little bit of a bad influence, much like the ones you have now. They had convinced you to get a fake id so that you could go clubbing with them. And to be honest, you were glad they did. Who would’ve wanted to miss out on a early 2000’s club scene? You had a lot of fun during that time. Yet, that’s the very place you discovered the drug that got you through pretty much the rest of your living life.

A smile began to spread across your face as you checked yourself out. The outfit accentuated every part of your body perfectly. Out of all the time you’ve spent in hell, this was undoubtedly the best you had ever looked. With one last once over in the mirror, you turned off your bedroom lights and went to find Angel.

It didn’t take long to find him sprawled out on your couch with his phone in hand. A VoxTech sitcom played quietly on your tv in the background.

“You ready to go?” He asked without looking up once he heard you enter the living room.

“What do you think?” You questioned him with a coy smile.

He quickly glanced up at you and dropped his phone onto his lap. In an instant he was standing in front of you.

“Holy shit toots! I knew you were good looking but this makes me question my own sexuality,” He said in a teasingly, seductive voice as he twirled you around.

“Shut up loser,” You laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“I’m just speaking the truth! But come on Cherri is already there,”

You turned off everything and locked your apartment. You held onto the door knob for a moment before taking a deep breath and letting go to trail after Angel.

---

It wasn’t long before you and Angel arrived at Club 666, one of the Pride Ring’s most popular clubs owned by your boss’s situationship, Valentino. You never really came across the moth man while you were at work, only hearing stories from Angel Dust. Some of the stories were good but the majority… not so much. It's pretty safe to say, you don't want to cross him while he's in one of his moods.

After climbing out of the cab, your hands found the hem of your skirt almost instantly. You hastily pulled down the short material that had ridden up your thighs on the way there, almost flashing the black lace panties you decided to wear. Once situated outside of the club, hand in hand, you and Angel made your way into the booming club. After fighting your way through the seemingly never ending crowd, you spot Cherri at the bar downing a shot with a group of random sinners, not very surprising.

She perks up at the sight of you and Angel, waving her hand in the air with a toothy grin.

“There you fuckers are! I thought you up and ditched me for a second there,” She said quickly pulling Angel into a tight hug. Once she got to you she paused for a moment with both her hands on your shoulders.

“Holy shit Y/N, you look hot!!” She exclaimed examining every part of you.

“Awe thanks Cherri,” You smiled and brought her into a warm hug.

“Hey! How come when I complimented you earlier I got shoved?!” Angel asked with his arms crossed.

“Because I’m used to your flirty compliments,” You laughed as his pouty expression slowly turned into a sly smile.

He brushed his hair back and huffed out, “Point taken. Alright enough bullshit. Let’s get this party started bitches!”.

---

You had lost track of how many shots you and your friends had taken. You knew it had to of been a lot though with how much the club was spinning. It wasn’t spinning in a bad way though. Sure you’d feel like shit in the morning but at this point you didn’t care. The lights of the dance floor strobed bright green as it flashed through the fog. You felt euphoric and giddy as you danced alongside Cherri.

Angel had ditched you both pretty early on once he noticed Val. He took place under one of Valentino’s lengthy arms. Even in your drunken state, you glanced over a few times to make sure he was okay. And from what you observed he was laughing with a fellow star, taking in the moth’s red smoke. Cherri broke you out of your worry as she tapped on your shoulder.

“I’m gonna go grab another round yeah? Want one?” She slurred with a lazy smile, shouting over the intense music.

You thought for a brief moment before slightly slurring back, "Sure why not!"

You watched as her form slowly disappeared through the sea of dancing, sweaty bodies. Feeling the music, you felt yourself truly let loose. This was the most fun you had in a very long time. A dazed smile found its way across your lips as you swayed your body to the beat of the music. You danced without a care in the world. As if nobody was watching.

However, someone was watching.

From a secluded area of the club, a certain TV demon sat with a drink in one of his clawed hands...

Watching your every move.

///

AHHHH I really hope you guys enjoyed this first part. I wrote it in one sitting... oops XD. Let me know what you think!!

[acamaryseinteery]

Httyd Modern AU

Ships: hicret/eretcup, former hicstrid

Sumary: first time meeting, number puns, new flatmate,...

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

One thing Hiccup didn't expect to see so up close was a picture of some more furred deer with large antlers and body made of lines. Much less to bump into the picture on the box.

He was running late to meet up with his ex for a breakfast at their favorite cafe and already sure that he attached his peg leg wrong. Now he was on his back and trying to regain consciousness over seeing tribal furry deers fly above him. It took him a few minutes to notice someone was calling him.

"Hey! Are you okay?!" As if an alarm activated in his head Hiccup sat up and instantly held back of his head in pain.

The big box was dropped on the ground carefully as the one holding it rushed to help him.

"Hey, slowly okay? That was quite a fall." The man spoke softly and one big arm supported his back while other batted his hand away to feel any swelling.

After regaining some consciousness and his vision cleared up better(though every around the center was still blurry), he noticed a tattooed man with tribal tattoo on his chin watch him with deep worry.

His eyes were amber brown, his skin was tan and he had his mid long hair tied, but that didn't stop bangs to sneak past his ears. Wait, were those beads in them?

After looking down he noticed that he was wearing a worn out dark green sleeveless hoodie and grey sweatpants.

"Hold on, I'll bring you some water." He quickly left, but not for a very long time. Just now Hiccup noticed that the man put a folded blanket behind his head and put his legs in the air by putting them against the box he was holding.

At least he seemed to know what to do.

Hiccup on the other hand didn't know what to do at all. But guessing by the spinning feeling in his body he could only wait to get better before-Oh shit.

Astrid!

He should be going, else she's gonna be worried sick!

He tried to get up only to find his peg leg detach when he tried to take a step.

What would have surely been a splat on the ground was avoided by a strong arm hooking him from below around chest to stop his fall.

"Easy now I got ya. Holding on?" Asked the man and tried to help him balance on one leg and aim him down to sit.

Once they managed that Hiccup let go of his hold and accepted the handed sports bottle of water.

The man took the prothesis and placed it next to the leg it belonged to.

"Want me to call you an ambulance?"

"No no, I'm fine thanks. I was just in the hurry and didn't notice you in the hallway." He took one more chug of water and gave the man the bottle back for now.

"Thanks."

"No problem, sorry for causing your fall. I'm moving in and this was the only box I could take while my cousin is parking." He motioned the the huge box with the reindeer logo.

Hiccup chuckled and reattached his leg "Yeah, this hallway always seemed too narrow for my taste. Hopefully I won't see reindeers in my sleep now."

His joke got the man to snicker before he held out his hand to Hiccup.

"Eret Eretson, room S8." He said with a bit of an accent. Maybe British?

"Straight?"

"No sir, gay."

Hiccup burst into laughter after the number pun and grin Eret pulled on after saying that.

After minimizing the laughter to giggles he said "There's no room S 8. The landlord ordered wrong fond so the 5 looks like a S."

"Shoot, there goes my chances of an endless joke opportunities. But at least it's not A5. Because anyone I would anger would write an extra S there and my address name would be an Ass." Joked Eret, cracking Hiccup again before saying.

"That's your aim anyway, so it would give a straight up message."

Now that cracked Eret into laughter "Good one."

"Hiccup."

"Um, bless you?"

Hiccup then chuckled "No that's my name. Harry Hiccup Haddock. But everyone calls me Hiccup. My mom's idea when she was high on adderall and dad on antidepressants on stress. My room is 54."

Eret clearly fought another laughter as he grimaced and made stiffened giggles after shaking his hand and helping him up.

"That must be a great story for office parties."

"Eh, after a few years it gets old." Shrugged Hiccup and drank rest of the water.

"Anyway I should go else my ex is gonna think I stood her up on our breakfast plans."

"Trying to get back together?" Quizzed Eret curious but Hiccup shook his head "Nah, just a tradition from college years together. Anyway, see you around. Hopefully next time without any crash collisions." Eret let Hiccup walk past him before taking the box and taking it to his apartment.

"No promises. See ya!"

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

Heyyy sorry this took so long I've been a lot busier than I thought! (From this WIP shop ask game!)

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

Believe it or not, I don't make myself cry. But I make myself laugh so here's stuff that made me laugh! Longer post to justify the time you had to wait:

From The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

“Also, I just turned thirteen today, so I’m not a child.” “A child means someone between infancy and puberty,” Akash confirmed. “He definitely has hit puberty. Do you want me to tell you about the erection he got—” “Okay, that’s enough!” I spat out the words as fast as I could. Akash laughed.

From The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

“Ah, yes!” George said. “Well, the cheese from cowyotes is incredible.” “From what?” Liam repeated. “Cowyotes.” “That sounds like a shitpost.”

From The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

I gasped in realization. “Robbie, is there any chance you forgot to take your Adderall?” “What? Of course I—” His face went slack and he bolted to his feet. “Shit, shit, shit. My parents were on the night shift all week—” “Pretty sure it’s your responsibility,” I said, half-joking. “I know, but I had projects and—” “I told you: set an alarm.” “Okay, I get it—” “Just go home and get it.” “Yes.” Robbie stood still for a second, then bolted toward the hallway. “I’m going home!”

From The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

“You thinking about something?” Akash asked at the table as I stared at the bowl in front of me. “Have you ever thought about how cereal is like the skeleton of milk?” “You’re implying that milk is meat, and I don’t like that at all.” “Milk has fat—yes, I’m implying that it’s meat.” “So milk is cereal that’s, like, boneless?” “Exactly.” “However, some people have cereal dry, which means that the cereal is a fatless skeleton, but we add fat if we feel the need.” “Does that make the bowl the flesh?” “Of course it does.” “So we’re eating the insides right out of the skin?” Akash paused. “Yes.” “Terrifyingly morbid,” I said, taking a huge bite of my soggy bowl-innards. “Some people have fruit in their cereal,” Akash pointed out. “What are those?” “Organs?” I suggested. “Sure, why not?” “I just realized something even more morbid.” “What?” “So we keep the bones in its own separate box, we keep the meat refrigerated in a liquid state, it’s already disemboweled, and we keep its empty flesh sack in a dark room with other flesh sacks.” “What the heck are you guys talking about?” I looked up to see Sammy in the doorway, her hair a mess from just getting out of bed. “You’re up early,” I noted. Sammy shrugged. “I got hungry.” “You want some disemboweled innards served directly in the flesh sack?” Akash asked, holding up his bowl. Sammy pressed her eyebrows together in a disturbed expression. “I think I’ll get toast.”

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Lexi POV)

“Is that a dragon?” Hye-Jin whispered to me. “Nah, that’s just Gabriel,” I whispered back. “Hey, Gabriel!” I said as we neared.

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Robbie POV)

I turned back to Akash. “Well, we’d better eat our sandwich before it gets cold.” “They weren’t hot to begin with,” Akash said, smirking as he finally picked up his sandwich from the plate. “Maybe not yours, but mine got ‘Sexiest Sandwich Alive’ back in 2022.” Akash almost choked on his sandwich. He swallowed his food and finally laughed.

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Akash POV)

I made eye contact with Robbie, who raised his eyebrows as if to say, “Dude, what the hell?” I furrowed my brow to say, “What are you talking about?” He looked at Gwen, then back at me, which implied he was saying, “Dude, your girlfriend.” I cocked my head to ask, “What about her?” Robbie sighed as if to say, “What a dumbass.” I gestured to the chessboard to tell him, “What about watching Ty get his ass kicked?” Robbie widened his eyes as he tilted his head toward the elevator, telling me, “Gwen wants to spend time with you alone, you idiotic nut box.” I opened my mouth in an “O” as if to say, “Oh, yeah, she does.” Robbie rolled his eyes as he turned to Lexi beside him, as if to tell her, “Can you believe this joker?” Lexi laughed, somehow having followed the whole conversation.

From The Secret Portal Part Two (Akash POV)

“Hey, guys.” Parker flicked his hand, summoning his remaining breakfast to his newly-picked table on light current of air. “What’s up?” “Me,” I said, causing Robbie to snicker. “Are we still on for practice today?” “Uh, yeah of course,” said Parker as Wade joined our table. “Your joke sucked. You’re sitting down. We’ll have to work on that.” “Is part of being an air-molecule-manipulating person good humor?” “I thought it was until you came.” “Give him a break, Parker.” “He made a bad joke, Wade! What am I supposed to say.” I ate my bowl-innards so I didn’t have to reply. Yeah, it was a bad joke, but it was the anti-humor that made it funny! “The fact that it was bad made it good,” Robbie defended. I smiled smugly at Parker through my cereal-filled mouth. Thanks, Robbie. “Humor is a subjective but meticulous craft,” said Parker. “The joke needs to make sense to be funny, and considering that you are not up, it doesn’t make sense.” “But I’m a flyer,” I protested. “That’s the logic.” “You said it when you were down!” Parker protested. “That would be like Jazlyn saying, ‘I’m so hot!’ when she’s not on fire!” “I’m gay, but Jazlyn’s objectively hot,” said Wade. “Totally not the point,” said Parker. “You’re taking this too seriously.” Parker laughed, throwing his head back. “Serious? Me?! That’s a first. Could you tell that to Mrs. Holladay? Besides, I’m just helping the kid out.” “You’re, like, two years older than me,” I pointed out. “Regardless, I’m helping you out. Watch, I’ll make your joke work.” In a fast yet graceful move, Parker thrust his hands out and up in a swooshing movement, causing a gust of wind to suddenly lift me out of my seat and a handful of yards in the air.

From School of the Legends Year One (compilation since I don't have to deal with narrators)

He was an old man with a farmer’s tan due to being, well, a farmer who was also old.

Tierney was jolted awake that morning in two ways. The first jolt was from Jarred rapidly knocking on the door to his room. The second was a literal jolt of static shock from the friction his body caused from sliding against both the fitted sheet beneath him, as well as the duvet covering him, when he jumped from the first jolt. He yelped at both, causing Jarred to laugh from outside the door. Tierney scrambled out of bed and practically ran to the door--bare feet sliding on the hardwood floors--threw the door open, and jabbed his finger into Jarred’s side, causing Jarred to let out a rather embarrassing “eep!” as the static shock pierced through his cotton clothes, and he jumped back, almost falling over when his feet slipped on the carpet beneath him. Now it was Tierney’s turn to laugh. Jarred regained his balance and pointed a finger at Tierney as a mock threat. “You’re dead.” “Not if I kill you first!” Tierney said, jumping out at Jarred, who bolted down the hall. Tierney followed his brother with his hand outstretched, making extra sure to drag his feet on the carpet to keep up the static, even if it slowed his pace. Jarred turned a corner and made an “oof!” sound as he ran into Ritchie--both falling over, causing Tierney to trip over both of them and crash to the ground.

“Why are we less mature than our ten-year-old sister?” Tierney asked, sitting up to join his brothers. “Don’t worry, she’ll mature less when she’s older,” said Jarred, rising to his feet.

This was a chance to show that he was special. He wasn't just the third-born son of the English king who blew things up. He was gifted. He could learn magic and maybe even master potions! He looked at the potions on his desk and smiled. Maybe he could figure out how to not blow things up while he was there.

If Jack had a euro for every time he had climbed a magically-overgrown plant today, he’d have two euros. That wasn't a lot of euros, but it was weird that it happened twice.

“I’ve always wanted to play the harp,” said Jack, admiring it. “Since when?” “You don’t know everything about me.”

Yay, this was fun I hope! Sorry again for the delay.

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

[hiddenbysuccubi]

I am ADHD. It's hard to dispute (not like I disagree) I was diagnosed at 7, had a regular pediatric psychiatrist, still re-diagnosed as a teen after my parents' divorce warranted one, then again in my early 20s sought after on my own. (Not even counting the practicing therapist I went to in College on campus or various other instances of me seeking help) I wish I hadn't been made to take stimulants from 7 to 17. I don't... It's so hard. I can't. I've taken everything. From Ritalin and Adderall, Concerta, Vyvanse, etc. Lately I've been wishing I could just take the stupid meth lite again. It seemed to get me passable grades enough in school. I was quiet and agreeable enough on them. I wasn't ME by any fucking means - my classmate saying "I didn't know you were actually fun" the one day we hung out in a group while I was off them or whatever will carry me to my grave but. I was quiet and productive and all my insane just went into my written words while I navigated the world catatonically and maybe that's the way to survive this government and future, going forward? Maybe I go back to fcuking catonia and vyvanse? I tried so hard to find a place for myself without it after quitting at 17 but I've just... failed. At every avenue. In every decision. And don't get me started on fucking addiction. I couldn't get myself to take those pills without coercion. From 7 on I was trying to hide them under my tongue or in the wastebasket in toilet paper or flush them. I was begging off them every chance I got. I never wanted them. I've met in the last couple years someone who doesn't have ADHD who does take the pills FOR FUN. She has a son who actually is diagnosed and needs them and she just.... fucking takes them. I cannot in the fuck understand. I don't want to touch those pills with a ten foot fucking pole. Let alone for fucking FUN. But. I don't fit into society. And the only way I did was on them. 'High' and unresponsive. I fit every criteria, and I have every documented history that would warrant someone prescribing them again. I really don't fucking want to fucking resort to going back on them. But society tells me I'm a goddamn unwanted piece of shit without being catatonic every second of every day.

[punk-raphaelite]

While true girlbossism is about glamour and million-dollar deals and secretly firing your cofounder, I witnessed workplaces dominated by trickle-down girlbossism — the belief that moderate success and security could be yours, if only you were vicious and organized and started your workday at 5 a.m. Trickle-down girlbossism held that side hustles, and answering work emails at 10pm AND 6 am, and using ill-begotten Adderall prescriptions to do your pointless office work faster, were all feminist enterprises. And to not be this focused, this devoted, this jacked-up on pharmaceuticals, was an affront to feminism.

Trickle-down girlbossism was maybe the saddest girlboss form of all, because it didn’t promise outrageous wealth, or even a Vogue photo shoot and the chance to be caught up in your own horrible high-profile professional scandal. It just promised that you’d be powerful enough to eventually abuse someone else and call it feminism.

…

Any time you pass up an opportunity to hustle or engage in hollow self-promotion, you are enacting the girlloser agenda. Any time you realize that all this influencing and sponcon and fake relatability that makes up “women’s media” culture leads exactly fucking nowhere? Girlloser.

And every time you ponder how all the stuff you’ve ever been told about “thick skin” — that you need to be able to suffer abuse with a smile if you want to succeed — is a lie, and that the ultimate goal of “thick skin” discourse is to frame abuse as “educational” and create an endless vicious cycle? A girlloser gets their wings, baby.

…

All I’m saying is, we tried to glamorize being the boss, and it almost fucking killed all of us. So why not give glamorizing being a loser a shot? Elon Musk isn’t taking you with him to Mars when the earth melts, no matter how many articles you write about how you love commuting/ working in an office/ having your boss tell you what to do. You’re stuck here, dying in the boiling, elevated sea with the rest of us. Might as well make the best of it!

Here’s the archive today link: https://archive.is/2ayyf

[hasmephydoneanythingwrong]

“Shapeshifter Singularity: Love🩷Love Condensed Europe” is cancelled.

Feel free to reblog with any questions you have about the story I’d planned. I genuinely do want to talk about my ideas.

(Also, I’m going to put what I had of chapter 3 written under the cut.)

Wake up.

Sunlight seeped through the window. No, it flooded the window. As soon as Bruce opened her eyes, she shoved her palms into them.

2. Stew in bed for two hours.

Mephistopheles put a stop to that.

“Maaaaasteeeeeeer~!” the clown practically sang. “You need to wake uuuuuuup~!”

The short woman whined.

“No, no… no! It’s too bright, I’m too tired!”

The devil pulled the blanket off her.

“Pumpkin pie, I can’t let you lie in bed all day! That’s no fun!”

Bruce took in her surroundings. A rustic cabinesque room, with a fluffy, green comforter (formerly) enveloping her body. She shivered.

“And don’t you have something to do, Princess Puddin’?”

That got her to jolt up.

“Princess Pudding…?”

“I mean, you really dug into that cake last night. Which just means you should be itching to get up! ‘All that energy,’ remember?”

“Ugh…”

3. Wash up.

The fact that a Singularity set in 19th century Europe had working indoor plumbing was the true sign of a higher power. The shower practically closed in on Bruce, though, so it had its ups and downs.

She looked down at her stomach and considered Mephisto’s words. Had she really eaten that much cake? It was pretty delicious. Mephisto had even added whipped icing. Bruce’s mouth watered at the memory. She even found, as she stepped out and brushed her teeth (another miraculously-available luxury) that her toothpaste tasted like chocolate.

4. Struggle to fit into her bra.

Why did it feel easier today?

5. Wash her hands.

What would she even ask the townsfolk about this Singularity?

“What’s outside the town?” As a newcomer, they’d assume she already saw it firsthand.

“What year is it? I, um, think my calendar is off.”

“Have you seen any strange people lately?” The thought of explaining Heroic Spirits to these people made her head swim, and even if she could call a spade a spade, she didn’t want to take that chance.

6. Take her vitamins.

“SHIT!”

Bruce bolted from the bathroom, Mystic Code donned and ready.

“I forgot to bring my gummies!”

Mephistopheles giggled as they saw her barge down the stairs.

“Wha… what’s so funny?”

“It seems as if Miss Crane made a, um, measuring mistake.”

Bruce looked down at her dress, taking in just how odd it looked on her. The chest was baggy, the belt was a little tight, and the fabric strained itself slightly around her hips.

“Miss Crane is an expert,” Bruce finally retorted, blushing. “Perhaps da Vinci wrote down my measurements incorrectly. She’s used to writing backwards, anyway. By the way, what time is it?”

Mephistopheles looked at one of their many watches.

“About 9 o’clock.”

“Ah, good. I can take my adderall.”

“Did you bring it?”

“…SHIT.”

—

“And what did he look like?” Bruce asked. It turned out that simply asking around was easier than she’d thought, and she and Mephistopheles had soon encountered an elderly woman with claims of unusual activity.

“He was a real burly-looking fellow with wings! And horns, like that handsome devil on your shoulder.”

Bruce blushed and looked at Mephistopheles.

“Darling, please stop leaning on me,” she said after an awkward silence. “You’ll hurt my back.”

“Your back is fine,” they retorted, although they still got off of her.

Bruce considered those words. Her back did feel less stressed than yesterday. Probably because she hadn’t slept like a shrimp.

“A-anyway,” Bruce continued her line of questioning. Where did you say he was?”

“Over in die Mittelgebirge.” The old woman pointed to the northwest. “It’ll be hard to miss him. He’s followed by a loud little lady, and they have matching swords. Honestly, I’d be more worried about her. I don’t trust the way she eyed my goats.”

“That will be all, thank you.” Bruce bowed, and she and Mephistopheles headed northwest.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bruce whispered, leaning close to her husband.

“Siegfried and Kriemhild?”

Bruce grimaced. “…Yeah.”

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s the goats we should be worried about.”

“I’ll admit, handling Kriemhild isn’t my forte- wait, why are you blushing?”

“Oh, nothing.” Mephistopheles looked away. “It’s just nice to hear another voice call me ‘handsome!’”

—

It turns out that the goats were, in fact, something they should’ve been worried about.

[garden-view-games-au-official]

Alright, intro / pinned post time.

hey, I'm the guy behind xXLeetTac0zYTXx & the digital horror project on there (or going to be on there if you view this before I've finished any of the videos). May add to this later if I turn out to have forgotten anything. - he/him, trans man, 19, ace, AuDHD, possible anxiety, trauma... yeah this is gonna be stuff in the bio but elaborated on more. - I got no clue if I'll ever actually finish the neocities page or not. Hell, if it weren't for just so happening to get an adderall prescription while my brain's latched onto Dandy's World, this would probably just remain in my head like all my other ideas. - Having medicine doesn't mean I don't struggle with the ADHD though. Please don't harass me if I'm slow to make stuff. - I am not a part of blushcrunch and I do not own Dandy's World or any characters from it. Maybe this could be considered a retelling of sorts? Or maybe something more like Deltarune is to Undertale where there may be similar or the same characters but in a different story? AU fits this well enough so I'll just be going with that. - I struggle with criticism a bit due to past experiences. I don't struggle as much as I once did before, but please keep this in mind. - If you know me from somewhere else or even another tumblr blog, no you don't. I would like to keep my personal life out of this. People who make things are human too and I'd hate for people who don't keep this in mind to harass me outside of this. - I do not have tiktok, twitter, instagram, or facebook. I do not have an account for Tac0z on any of those sites either (though I COULD see her having a facebook I'm not making one for her because fuck meta). - Please don't spread misinformation.

Tag Stuffs

gonna attempt to tag stuff. Will try to tag trigger warnings. Let me know if I need to add a tw to something! #it-speaks - tag for me just saying shit. chance of the post being privated or deleted is not zero. we all have things we regret. #shitpost-tag - tag for shitposts. I can be a little silly sometimes as a treat #arnsk - asks. self-explanatory. I may close it if I get too much. if you're gonna threaten me or send hate at least make it interesting. be creative, get weird with it. also don't ask me for money. I will assume you are a bot if you do so. #arnsk/tac0z - ask tag, tac0z edition. probably going to attempt to answer in-character, but will add information and/or translation if I do. #gardenview-games/teasers - teasers for the series. #gardenview-games/episodes - new video release. #gardenview-games/spoilers - spoiler tag, no idea if I'll ever need to use it or not.

dni pedos, zoos, homophobes, transphobes, terfs, etc.

sorry if I rambled a lot here by the way.

[briefpiratebear]

The meds I’m talking and vitamins I am taking adderall 20 mg extended and another 20 regular abilify 5 mg a hair regrowth pill from dermatologist widows peak looking nice lol anyway if there is any chance of losing anymore hair it won’t be happening ahha then all my vitamins which I had 16 biles of blood drawn at one time hit 14 biles before passing out straight on the ground lol seeing birds ha wasn’t only time I fucked with that I ripped a water iv out of my arm after 15 min in there blood everywhere and walked out of hospital because I HAD TO LEAVE I was there for dehydration practically dead from it that water saved my life ha anyway I take maybe 3-5 vitamins not many I’m pretty healthy never get sick have a good digestive good heart lungs liver I hope I know some things are sure because of daily tasks I am a health fanatic always have been but in a tight space rn ha other then all that I keep place clean organized as I could be maybe be little better but other then all that I’m gucci really gucci just alone very very alone have been in my mind in this for along long time. That’s all I enjoy it.

[rsvppitkincounty]

1 hour poem free style on a quarter of laced adderall I got for my 21st birthday from my sorority roommate and friend

I can only be as real as;

even on here

where no one really sees;

I can only be as real as I'm allowed to be.

Cause I hear your laughs

I feel the smirks and whispers and stones

I want to include stupid lines

but maybe you might not like it,

(might not) like me

after that

and you won't give me a chance

Certainly less than you gave me before.

So I guess I'm protecting myself from...

something stupid and arbitrary for sure,

but from something I don't "care" for I guess?

Cause if you don't like the line or

the quip my brain think fits right

then my poem and song is missing something

like the final harmony

of Who I Am.

And the thing is

I do care,

I'm an empath like that,

I want you to want me

im begging you to beg me.

Cause im not sure about my stupid lines

They're dumb and naive

and sound like a joke

that's not worth even care about.

cause its just there for laughs

and I didn't mean it.

But I mean it all,

even the things I don't know nothing about

I Mean It All

Unless I said it cause I couldn't stay quiet.

I need to say what I need to say.

You might not get it

but I want to ask you to try.

And even if you don't (get it)

or even try to

then I won't ask twice

cause I never do

but also because

that's all I need to know.

But also something light for quips

is still mine and

im still speaking so

it shouldn't be less valuable

to me.

Its hard when I can't hear your sighs ooo's and ahh's

or see your eyes shift away from mine

or hear your nervous laugh.

'that's way too much for such a commonplace joke' I think;

'Or maybe you find something within that funny' I ponder.

But I can't hear you over compensating in your language

When youre not here

And I can't feel you trying to touch me

or trying to get near.

I can't see how you go about it.

I can't hear what youre humble or boasting about.

I can't sense when you decide to let your ego drive.

I can't pick up on how much silence/pause there is.

In between words, or sentences, or ideas,

I can only sense my minds eye watching myself

and she's hardly right,

she's just a frail young earthworm on a leaf,

after all.

I want to enter any conversation asking if youre mad or still like me

I want to know what you think about it all and then about me,

take it from the top every time.

How you think

Why you think.

I want to know it all

So

maybe then

ill be able to predict what I don't know

or have never thought about.

I know only one perspective,

after all.

Maybe if I know your numbers and calculations,

your methods

I might know what you are willing to do,

and want to do

which is scarier

cause I've known bad men.

I see them everywhere

in you, and in me.

I see the ease with which greed

and iron fists are slung.

I know because I feel it within me too.

And I want to cry

cause I would use you like a rag doll

and call you pretty to your ugly face

and no one, especially you

would suspect me

you'd want it to be true

it could be if we were honest with each-other

you might sense, like me, that it's not right.

but you would dismiss it

like anxieties usually are;

ignored and disputed even though theyre right

cause how can you believe what you did not see,

or thought you saw, technically

You can't fully let that go

When your body convulses in warnings and fear

You can ignore it and 'be optimistic'

But you end up empty,

believing and wanting nothing

Don't let your therapist confidant tell you

what you believe is silly

before they understand you to your core and out

then once more

Cause theyre Professional and Qualified

and they Know More Than You

cause they Read Books

and Wrote tons of Essays

then got to fulfill their Purpose

of "Helping People"

Anyway

you would choose to trust me.

And I would use that

I would use you.

I could use you.

and you might not care, as you've told me before.

Even if I do with gentle hands and words

that trace slowly over you soft body

pausing when I want to stare.

You're not in my heart

the part with lock and key

stuck in a casing of a metal block

perfectly molded around every crevice

About 3 meters deep on each side.

I've just started to chip away.

I have a couple scratches so far, if you were curious.

My only tools your love

and my fake plastic nails.

Caring (about you) doesn't help with (your) feelings

cause you'll never feel like the porn star of classic literature

unless you

love me touch me right

so I can expand my love beyond the stars.

Cause I would give anything for you,

I would've left you alone with my body.

I might/could still do that

cause sometimes a touch is better than none

but in reality we know its not,

Cause caring doesn't help with feeling,

Cause how do you explain feeling empty and alone

when someones there as they scratch your back and say youre okay.

And even when you hear you're a good person

It still all falls flat

just like your face after I've left for real

I don't choose to believe that other people like me

because I know where my soul lingers

and only I know the disrespectful things I've thought about you.

I won't ask you to take care of me

cause I know you don't want to.

I would feel guilty.

I ask for too much and im never enough.

Thats the theme of my life, so far

And I know its true, cause lots of people live with sanity about the things that make me scream with pain at each fading thought

I used to want to be a rag doll for almost anyone

but the list gets narrower every time.

Then exponentially expands when I notice my problems

after opening my mouth or mind.

Anyone can open their mouth

and show me the evil man behind their curtain

playing with MY rag doll.

You selfish cunt,

it was mine, it is mine, it will always have to be mine!

but now after your disgusting hands

were given a chance to play

I am forced to have to feel them

at night when youre no where near anymore.

I'm glad filed your nails for me

and that you don't cary moldy dirt under your them.

but youre not much better than

The evil man being the curtain.

And I thought you were just a boy

who wanted to play.

With my rag doll out of love (and respect)

of the human marvel of commotion and,

sparkle within every particle.

I thought you knew my rag doll was new and

you saw the purity as a gift I've kept out of fear.

Fear of not being loved

or loved enough to be cared out

or loved enough to be respected

or loved enough to be listened to.

Fear of not being loved enough to be seen as

myself and how unique I am as myself.

I thought sex meant something to you,

besides being able to know

or tell others, if youre doomed

that my rag doll was in your hands once.

cause that doesn't mean shit you know.

My rag doll was never your

even when you held it.

My rag doll is mine and

you'll never get another chance to feel it

so you hold on to those metaphysical

pictures tingling sensations down your spine

that is a memory

and you'll never be satisfied.

I will never see you

as something other than an evil man

with his 2 inch dick in his hand.

and a puppet falling off the strings

just like your balls

which make your dick look

less emasculated,

and non photogenic.

Your rotting muscles,

like mine.

I will never stay in that mindset

that men flaunt.

Cause I'm my own human and

I want be seen

as I hold the rag doll.

You can decide whether or not

you ever want to be loved like that.

Sex and love are not separable,

no matter which whore you fuck

Then may peace be with you as you experience

eternal unhappiness, suffering, and unsatisfaction,

and complete total hell from my crystal ball.

But I'm not choosing to let my rag doll

be smacked around

and beaten over the head by an evil man.

If I can help it that is,

may those woman and their rag dolls be afforded that only greater than heaven forever more.

Woman are men by the way,

but as they've grown and stand now

we need to take accountability for the men they foster.

at the very least in this poem, in my words.

And even if I never know you felt that way,

I can extrapolate data

and build a shitty narrative

however I please

because you haven't shown me otherwise.

and youre too shy to tell me anything other than

how my beauty looks to you

and makes you feel (just that once).

So if you can't show or tell,

and want me to know how you feel

Ill have to refuse because that evil man in the mirror

Im not going to trust you

based on deep longing looks alone.

Cause everything is behind deep dark eyes

the whole fucking world

And I want to be in the world

not just watching and wishing,

I could be a part of your world.

One which you can keep secret from me

but one which I'm forced to divulge

cause I have no choice but to.

Im a person who can't be nonchalant

and keep my heart at bay

with my legs spread apart,

or when you ask me about my poetry.

I shouldn't expect people to be nice,

or care about me.

Especially the sore parts.

I learn that more everyday.

Yet more everyday

it feels like im expected

to return the favor

that got lost in the mail for me.

I know now to expect them to honor dignity

at the very least,

know some part of her, at the very least.

or whatever version it is you showed me

on wednesday.

Im not sure yet.

It was more than im used to that's for sure, so thx ig.

So look into my eyes you sweet naive human

we can both learn and grow

if you show me and tell me

about what the evil man tells you

and why you shot him out back.

cause if they choose to let him loose

or if they choose to hide him

behind the curtain

and then he peaks out into the crowd

AT MY RAGDOLL

I'll wish you fucking dead

they could've kept him chained with fear

at the very fucking least

but they chose to use it

against me

put on a fucking show in my fucking face

and then

ask me to forgive them?

or even worse

to accept what I didn't ask for.

to accept what I didn't know I was asking for

just cause I lacked enough care growing up

to be asked or even told.

I can stare at a rock

and smile at their crevices.

but if you knew how little I thought of you,

you'd be very upset with me

I don't need Love to have sex

Ive never had sex and I can't see love around and about me.

but I need, feel, and see love everywhere still.

so I guess I would have sex with a rock.

And ill continue to be easy

cause that's what I am .

My legs stay open and my heart stays closed

trying to squeeze

through the block of metal

which has no bars, yet

But you'll never feel what satisfaction is

when you act like that with me.

[briefpiratebear]

It’s so funny after all this time I finally get prescribed something that does work I mean it does adderall if I don’t have it I stay up all day long I passe and passé and think and think it is absolutely crucial I get these meds I have worked myself to the point of really trying to see things a bit for clearer stop being so impulsive all the time whether I’m on meds or not melotin lol I’ll be sleeping all day and that’s what I was doing for months…. Besides the fact that people don’t treat me in this house hold I’m only saying my mom my step dad he treats me less then I treat him like he is a pear that is more afraid of me then I am of him yet does everything for me good guy right. If you could imagine I get bitched at for everything no problem very grateful I do a lot of stupid shit like spend money out of anger or impulsivity not a lot lol I have I feel remorse although they understand my position greatly and have spoken to me about flipping homes or matching my next car I buy all in do time it is nagging like a bouncy set between people I am who I am your mom your step dad or whatever but he’s no step dad more so long lost buddy I do see myself learning from the most people I see value in. Without all of this I wouldn’t be who I am it does suck but finally finding meds and feeling okay for the first time in my life I don’t mean the last 2 months awful and the last years years I have spent alone chained to the government with so peace of mind just hard work mind is hard work so shall I learn i did I learned responsibility and hard work physically and mentally have I ever put any of this into practice I mean it hasn’t even been a few months iv been on the correct meds running circles in my mind for years I’m grateful for who I am a hard worker someone that has learned all of these things I have put them into practice this time it not a race to the finish line it just is what it is I fucking hate that slogan I’ll change it it is so much worth what your going through rn you know why because you learn without learning without knowing without being what are we we would never know I know this that I am okay alone by myself independent of if I have the chance to be again I could have had it all but that bitch manipulated me yes time tic tic tic that was it I learned that money doesn’t mean happiness what means happiness is how you carry yourself each and every day why you carry yourself that way god damnit I thought I new the way I swear I seen it somewhere… Jesus Christ is a story you are all that forsaken me many people do not believe me when I say I am who I am I say I am a Buddha maybe not so much I am close enough to tell you that I have learned my far share of whys I don’t ask them anymore like many things I write when it comes to mind I write I have wrote and wrote a lot . What left of it all is more then just telling a story a poet I new once I swear if I ever lost that fucker he used to be good I know good at something