#apd also making it hard for me to understand them too

[chronic-cane]

You know maybe the adhd med shortage wouldn't waste as many of my spoons if I didn't have to wait for the number to give "speak to the pharmacist" as the last option on the phone, then transfer me to a hold line with shitty music, only to ask "hey do you have this med in stock?" Which takes less time than the operator going through all possible options with 5 different advertisements for the pharmacy

Oh, and if my state didn't bar me from getting my paper prescription in the middle of the shortage. That would've also helped a bit.

[deadcrowcalling]

serious-er topic than normal dudes, dudettes, and everybody else (there needs to be a gender neutral dude. dudenby?

•subtitles, closed captions, and open captions aren't the same thing.

subtitles exist for the purpose of conveying the dialogue of a movie/show/video. you can change the language (usually) and turn them on and off at will. these are typically boxes at the bottom of the screen with words. they can be used for translation, to better understand speech, etc. subtitles aren't always reliable at conveying the dialogue accurately, and can be delayed or too fast in accordance to the video. you can use subtitles to know what is being said.

closed captions identify the speaker, dialogue, and any noise. they follow along all the audio and if it's something spoken, who says it (usually). these are also typically boxes at the bottoms of the screen with words. these can be used to understand all the audio, translate, etc. closed captions aren't always reliable in conveying the audio correctly, and can be delayed or too fast in accordance to the video. you can use closed captions to know everything that is going on involving sound.

open captions are like closed captions. they were established for the same purpose. you cannot turn open captions on and off. they are a part of the video, the creator purposefully put them there, most likely for accessibility purposes. these, most of the time, convey all audio and are pretty accurate, and are synchronized with the video. these often are just words on the screen, usually in a contrasting color than the background.

all can be used for accessibility reasons or not, but open captions are the better of the three.

i am not hard of hearing or d/Deaf. i do struggle understanding sound clearly due to ADHD. i always have on closed captions because i can't understand speech clearly often, and struggle with focusing on one sound when there are many going on (for example, if i'm in a loud room, i can't just turn the volume up. that does nothing for me but make the confusion louder.)

people with any sort of hearing impairment (hearing loss, APD, neurodivergent related hearing issues, etc) prefer and/or need written audio like these things provide. open captions are the most optimal, and should be in more movies, shows, videos, etc. i understand not all people need or want them, but countless people do. if you make videos or things like that of any kind, please consider adding open captions for the sake of people with hearing impairments.

even if you don't, and you read all this, thanks :) this took a long time to type and it's just good info to know.

[decentgarbage]

BYI +BEFORE WE BECOME MOOTS

Gen BYI (basically for new comers, people who wanna do art trades w/me, etc.):

I’m a minor (15), so if that makes you uncomfortable, if recommended you leave

From the time I’m posting this, it’s near the end of the year for school, and have a lot going on, the main point here is I’m REALLY busy sometimes, so if you wanna do an art trade with me or a collab, don’t expect it to be done immediately

THIS IS A SELF SHIPPING BLOG, sometimes I post about things about stuff that isn’t self ship related, but most of the time you’ll see self ship content (mainly for comfort!!), so if that makes you uncomfortable, you can leave

On the topic of self shipping, I’m a huge Tsukasa self shipper, like HUGE!! And I’m usually uncomfortable with other ships with him, and when people self ship/crush on him, to others this may seem silly but it genuinely makes me uncomfortable

I’m an atheistic satanist, and I try to make that clear, so if you don’t believe in that stuff, it’s fine!! I won’t attack you! But if you are uncomfortable with that, I recommend you block and move on

I vent sometimes but it’s rare (this isn’t a vent blog dw). If you don’t want to deal with that, block the tag “Pointless Vents”

Before we become moots or friends (self explanatory):

I’m diagnosed autistic!! So I struggle to understand social cues, a hard time focusing, struggle with communication, experience burnout, and a whole lot of stuff, please be patient with me, and if I say/do something to make you uncomfortable, please just tell me and I’ll try to keep it in mind

PLEASE FOR THE LIFE OF ME USE TONE TAGS!! I don’t know when someone is coming off as rude or if they’re being genuine so PLEASE use them

Sometimes I say slurs (I reclaim) ummm not all the time, but if it makes you uncomfortable lmk and I won’t do it in front of you!!

If you need a break or block me and we’re moots/friends, let me know first!! I won’t be mad about it and will be understanding. I also struggle with trauma, and a whole lot of stuff, and blocking me without any warning makes me feel awful

DONT BE AFRAID TO SET BOUNDARIES WITH ME, I may have stuff that I struggle with and things yeah, but you do too!! If I do/say something that makes you uncomfortable, just say it and I won’t do it again, boundaries make things a lot more of a safe space!

Although I will listen, I struggle with comforting people and stuff when others are venting, although I’m getting better at it, I may not be the first person to go to to vent, I’d recommend you ask before venting to me, and I’ll try my best to respond!!

If we’re ever on call and I ask “what did you say?” Like… 20 billion times, that’s probably my apd! I have a hard time processing what people say to me and it can be really confusing at times so yea :P

If you see something you think I won’t like, use the tag “Lane dont look”

That’s about it I think!! I might add more in the future

[harleythealter]

Okay. So… somebody I know just posted/reposted or whatever it was, something about APD and sometimes I’m suspicious about myself, but only this one friend ever talks about it so it’s really hard to gauge it for myself. Even if it’s mild, I still hear better than everybody around me… but idk. I decided to go on an extended discussion with anybody who cares to read about all my hearing things, whether or not it’s APD.

I noticed this week that I read lips as if I’m trying to read the subtitles of somebody’s voice???

Also… I watch subtitles in the movies because it’s hard to focus on anything else.

I can’t focus on my work when the teacher’s talking. And by this I mean. I need follow along sheets that the teacher follows word for word so that I don’t get confused. But that’s not enough because I get bored and so I need either gaps of words to fill in, or a coloring sheet. So then if we are told it’s ‘work time’ and then the teacher tries talking during my work time I either 1) break down, start shaking, ticcing(or suppressing them), feel anxious or 2) I just don’t hear her. Because literally it’s work time. I’m solely focused on this project and the oceans are definitely drowning her out.

This applies to driving too. People always try to talk to me while I’m driving… and ngl, I can barely hear a single word. I’m way too focused on my task.

Also, why is everything sometimes way too much and other times way too little? I’m not just saying this to be cute either. My brain slowly cooks until it’s burnt when it’s too loud. And sometimes I just smile, because people always seem to take that as acceptable.

And some people are easier to listen to? Why is that??? Like. My dad, I can’t not focus on his voice, but for the love of God it’s so hard to understand what he’s actually saying. My mom too? And everybody in my family mumbles and it’s so annoying and I’m always saying ‘what?’

I was told it’s always because I’m ‘in my own world’ or because ‘your earbuds are always in’ But it’s not. I just know.

Also, yk when the world just starts grating on your ears? And by grating, I mean it’s that high pitch whining/shrieking. I can’t function when that happens.

Oh and those random noises I pick up on, why can’t I hear actual people that well instead of the way that the lights sound or the way that the air is flowing through the vent. OR WHEN SOMEBODY RUNS A SINK.

We haven’t even gotten to how everybody chews-even me. I can’t get over the cringing when I eat my own food but I can’t not eat. Also I can’t go further into this topic because I’m shutting down thinking of it.

Anyways. You guys ever hear that sound in your body where it kinda swish-crinkles in the back of you neck??? It’s incredibly horrible. Or when my pants swish. Some things I can barely handle and I wish I could function differently or that I wouldn’t stop breathing everytime I put my headphones on(it’s way too silent and what if I’m being too loud. Yk?). Because if I could put my headphones on and then if it wasn’t so scary as if the world would judge me, maybe I would make it to the end of the day without being so overwhelmed.

I’m sure there’s more, but I’m tired sooooooooo. Anyways, maybe there’s some sort of functioning thing that was messed up in me now that I’m looking back at all of my problems.

[justapoet]

For a Tarlos - prompt TK & Carlos sharing a bath together

Thank you for the prompt! I really hope you like it :)

if i share my thoughts with you, would you share your life with me?

After a shift from hell, Carlos could use a little bit of kindness.

1.5k

Usually, TK would be the one to show up covered in dirt and dust ― and blood, considering his incredibly bad luck. Even after becoming a paramedic, the new-yorker would find a way to put himself in danger or end up in a hospital bed, and Carlos could swear he'd have gray hair at the age of thirty-five because of his reckless and way too selfless boyfriend.

But that night, he was the one covered in dust, dirt, blood, and exhaustion when he finally came home from a twenty-four-hour shift. There were bad days, but, honestly, that was one of the worst. Not only because he ended up having to be checked up by doctors after having to face a maniac with a knife, rolling down a hill to catch him ― at least this part went right ― and ending up with some scratches and superficial cuts, which took him two extra hours of work, but also because he barely had talked to TK the whole day.

He knew his boyfriend would spend the day with the 126 crew, Nancy and Grace included, once they all had a day off, and he didn't want to send a message and interrupt anything, nor worry TK with his tired voice through a phone call. So he just kept quiet, call after call, checking his phone periodically as always. At some time in the middle of the day, TK had sent "I love you" and "just so you don't forget", which made Carlos smile sweetly, replying that he loved him too.

Carlos checked his phone again when he got to the car after getting out of the station, but there were no new messages but his Tía Lucy and her "good night" images with a cliché phrase. Since there were no messages from TK, his first thought was that the paramedic would spend the night at his father's house ― and his, too, Carlos needed to remind himself. TK spent a lot of time at Carlos' place, but they didn't live together, after all; and the cop did want that to happen, but they were taking it slow, after all. So he just kept quiet and bit his tongue every time he wanted to ask TK to move in.

He sighed when passed the door, letting his bag by the door frame and his keys inside the bowl on the sideboard, feeling all his muscles aching as the day finally rests over his shoulders. He bent his body forward, closing his eyes for a second as his foot stopped by the first step of the stair. His body ached enough for him to consider sleeping on the couch without even showering.

And then he heard bare feet steps getting closer fastly, but stopping suddenly. He looked up, seeing a, now, worried TK dressed in one of his APD shirts, looking at him with frowned eyebrows and shiny green eyes. He must've sensed Carlos' confusion and slight surprise as he slowly went down the stairs to meet him, his hands hesitating for a second before touching his right cheek.

Carlos bent to the touch, sighing and holding his feelings in before giving in to the tears he'd been holding the whole day. He just wished it could end soon.

"What happened to you?" TK asked carefully, his voice low and caring. Carlos shrugged, his shoulders bending even more.

"Bad day," he said, simply. "Thought you'd be at your house" confessed while the shiny eyes analyzed him up and down.

"Tommy called me saying you rolled down a hill with a maniac and a knife," he said, his thumb carefully caressing Carlos' cheekbone. "And that you ended up in a hospital to be checked up, even if nothing major happened".

"Sorry I didn't call you" his voice was barely a whisper.

"She also said you seemed to be having a hard day" TK continued, ignoring his apologies. "And might need a little bit of kindness".

Carlos swallowed his tears, even if his voice sounded hoarse and heavy with them, next.

"Think I could use that," he said, and TK smiled gently. He didn't say more, then, his hand resting on Carlos' lower back and the other taking his hand, carefully putting his arm around his shoulders. Carlos could walk by himself, but having TK close was good and calming, so he allowed himself to be taken care of, this once.

Their way was slow and quiet to the bedroom and, then, the bathroom, with TK carefully leading them both. They stopped close to the bathtub, and the paramedic stood in front of him and smiled kindly before making him sit on the toilet and checking the water temperature, which made Carlos realize that he'd already let everything ready for when he came home.

"Did the doctors say something?" TK asked, his voice low and his hands finding their way to Carlos' clothes. "Can I?" he asked again, and the cop nodded before closing his eyes as TK unbuttoned his uniform.

"That I'd feel sore for a while," he said, his voice just as low as his boyfriend's. "My captain gave me a few days off because of that".

TK smiled a little.

"So did mine" the paramedic answered, and Carlos' eyes widened a little. "She said that I owed her that after not taking days off work after all the hostage situation, months ago. I think she just wanted you not to be alone and was using it as an excuse. She likes you" concluded, his eyes getting lost on Carlos' body and shinning with worry with the bruises and shallow cuts.

"Don't know why" Carlos whispered, shrugging. TK's light eyes looked up at his tired face, and he moved to help Carlos to get up. Once on his feet, TK got closer to the man and scooped his face on his warm hands.

"I have a lot of reasons," he said. "A few more than the sky has of stars" his voice was sweet, and his boyfriend tried to smile, but stopped as the tears threatened to fall again. TK didn't say more, his hands ghosting over Carlos' side before helping him take his pants and underwear off.

He led Carlos to the bathtub and kept a hand on his arms as he let himself on the water, breathing deeply and bringing his legs close to his chest, his head against the wall as he closed his eyes. TK sat on the toilet, one of his hands on the water before he carefully caressed his wet fingers through Carlos' messy and short curls. Carlos sighed happily.

"Is your body hurting too much?" TK asked, breaking the silence. Carlos could lie and say that he was okay, but his mind was conscious of each aching muscle and nerve under his skin, and, honestly, he knew TK could read him easily.

"I can take it" he answered.

"Not quite what I asked, babe," TK said. "although I'm pretty sure about the answer. Did you eat today?" Carlos nodded.

"Spencer didn't let me forget," he said. TK hummed in agreement.

They stood quiet, then, with TK slowly moving his hands to clean Carlos' tan-skin. He could almost hear his boyfriend purring when he massaged his scalp with his shampoo to clean his hair and, once he was done, he took Carlos' fingers in his hands and kissed his knuckles sweetly. Carlos let out a happy sigh, relaxing under each touch of his boyfriend on his skin.

The bathtub was emptied once and then refilled so Carlos could relax a little more. When TK got up to prepare the bed for them to sleep, Carlos held his wrist and made him stop on his feet, looking down at the most lovely eyes he'd ever seen.

"You okay?" TK asked, and Carlos nodded, suddenly looking ashamed of whatever he was thinking. He looked down at the water and TK smiled fondly at the possibility of what was going on inside his head. "Do you want me to get in with you?" he asked, and Carlos looked surprised with the facility TK read his mind.

He nodded, though, and watched as TK took his ― stolen ― shirt off and then his underwear, coming closer and putting his hand on Carlos' shoulder. When they were comfortable, Carlos' back against TK's chest, the latino let himself relax completely and placed his head on the crook of the new yorker's neck.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, the warmth of the water and their bodies making them feel safe. TK's fingers drew patterns on each spot of Carlos' skin they could reach, making the man feel sleepy and cared about.

"Thought you'd be at your house" Carlos repeated his previous words, a whisper against TK's soft skin. He could sense that the paramedic smiled.

"Thought about coming home" he answered, softly, and Carlos took a few seconds to understand. He could feel TK's heart racing a bit under his skin, and a warm feeling spread across his chest. "If you let me," it mostly sounded like a suggestion or even a question. 

"Always" he whispered back. "And forever, if you want" now that, said as a suggestion, sounded more like a promise. TK smiled, Carlos could sense it, and so he pulled one of his hands out of the water to tangle their fingers together.

"Forever sounds good" he replied, his voice low and full of love and caring.

Suddenly, Carlos wouldn't mind if that day didn't come to an end.

[tngrace]

Tarlos Prompt: “You look really tired”

Love your writing 💗💗

Thank you nonnie. I'm so glad you love it ❤ these little messages encourage the muse to keep going ❤ this is gonna be a coda/extension of 2.03

Thanks @howtosingit for posting how far away San Angelo was from Austin.

Send me prompts from this list if you want. Probably gonna be closing it out soon, but I might find another list.

4 word prompts masterlist- find all completed fics & requests waiting to be written here.

The wildfire in San Angelo popped up at a terrible time. The 126 was still recovering from their loss at the hands of a freak volcano. Owen got the call early that they would be needed to help battle the wildfire. He broke the news to his team, and was met with silence but nods of understanding. It was the nature of the game, the job they'd all signed up for.

They were disappointed they weren't going to be there for Tim's funeral, but they all silently agreed to check in on that day. Judd said goodbye to Grace; Owen to Gwyn; and TK to Carlos, which had to be the hardest one. He was still feeling raw and vulnerable; he really didn't want to leave, but he knew he had to.

"Be safe," Carlos murmurs as he kisses TK goodbye.

"I will," TK says giving him a soft smile. They promise to check in as much as they can, and then TK is gone.

After a week of hard work, battles against the wind and time, and almost losing his dad, TK was ready to be home. His dad was awake and doing better, and the out of state teams were heading back home. TK couldn't wait until they were cleared.

He hadn't talked to Carlos since before the helicopter crash, so he found a quiet spot and pulled out his phone. He saw a few messages from him, and couldn't stop the smile from gracing his face despite the exhaustion he currently felt.

Michelle was in town for the funeral, and Carlos had gone with her, being the best friend ever. Michelle was also currently crashing in the spare bedroom, and Carlos had sent him some antidotes from their time. She was heading out tomorrow, Carlos would have one more day off, and TK was really hoping to be home by then, despite being sad he'd miss seeing Michelle.

He sent Carlos a text checking in, letting him know TK was safe, and that he really missed him. He wasn't expecting the immediate reply, but he couldn't stop the smile when it came. Carlos told him how much he'd missed him and that he couldn't wait for him to be home either.

TK was in a middle of a reply, when Judd walked by. "Come on lover boy. Let's go home," Judd calls making TK look up with a smile.

"Seriously?" He asks jumping up as Paul and Marjan walk by.

"Yes seriously. Now let's go. Get Cap and let's get home," Paul says as they start loading the truck.

"Sweet," TK smiles pocketing his phone and going to find his dad. He finds him in the tent gathering everything up, and TK takes his bag before helping him to the truck. They get him settled and it's not long and they're pulling out headed back for Austin.

TK sends Carlos a text telling him he'll see him soon, but not exactly when. He wants to surprise him. Everyone's talking about showers, food, and sleep, possibly at the station they're all so exhausted. "Not I," Judd pops up. "Yall can have the station. I'm going home," he says with that whipped love sick look he always gets when talking about Grace.

The team teases him and TK just shakes his head good-naturedly because he knows how Judd feels. He sends his mom a text too asking her to come to the station to get his dad. He doesn't trust him to drive yet, and he wants to make sure he gets home and gets a good sleep. She promises to meet them, and makes him promise he'll be safe getting to Carlos's.

Three and half hours later, the truck is pulling into the station. TK is so happy to be back. They all stop and give Buttercup some much needed love, but they're splitting off their separate ways after just a minute. Gwyn is waiting as promised, and TK stops to give her a tight hug more than happy to see her before she's pushing him off to the showers and turning her attention towards Owen.

TK decides to make it a quick one, washing all the sweat and grime away. He just wants to get home to Carlos. He's grabbing the first thing in his locker he can find, which just happens to be jeans and an APD hoodie, making him smile despite the fact it's lost Carlos's smell. He bids his teammates good bye, all of them earning four whole days off, before he's getting in his Uber and heading for home.

When he pulls up, he tips the driver and is out before he can even think about it. He's through the door in minutes, surprising both Carlos and Michelle. "Hey," he says bashfully when both pairs of eyes turn on him, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Hey," Carlos smiles jumping up and heading right for TK. He wraps him up in his arms, TK's bag falling to the floor forgotten. TK collapses against Carlos just breathing him in as he holds him tight. "This is a nice surprise," Carlos murmurs.

TK looks up with a smile. "I wanted to surprise you," he whispers before their lips meet in a long but soft kiss.

"And that's my cue," Michelle says leaving the couch. "Nancy and I are going out. Don't need me," she teases as she passes them on her way out the door.

Carlos chuckles as he watches her go, before turning his attention back to TK. "You look really tired," he murmurs softly rubbing a hand down TK's cheek.

"I am," TK yawns. "This week was rough; was hoping someone would wanna cuddle me," he grins as he grabs his bag to drop in the laundry. Carlos takes it from him, wanting to make life a little easier on TK for now, before they head upstairs, . Carlos knows he'll get up in a bit once TK is sound asleep and do his laundry and cook for him, but for now, he's just as happy to have TK home and back in his arms.

Once in bed, TK falls sound asleep within seconds. Carlos holds him until he is sure TK is out. He softly kisses his forehead before whispering, "Welcome home Tiger." He eventually gets up and does all those things he'd planned, and if TK sleeps sixteen hours without moving then Carlos is happy he's finally getting his rest.

[adultingautistic]

I try and talk to ppl about my autism but they dont listen to me, they just brush me off and say “but youre very high functioning” but i only am because I get lot of help from my parents, I wouldnt be considered HF wo them, and despite how much they help me I still struggle w LOTS of stuff on the dl, and some is v embarrassing tbh that I dont wanna tell ppl. How can I get ppl to take my autism seriously and not just brush me off as “high functioning” wo revealing super personal things abt me??

Ask date: September 15th

Short answer: You can’t.  The only way to explain to people that you struggle is to explain your struggles, which means to give them personal details.

Before you explain autism to anyone, you need to ask yourself why you are trying to explain your autism to this person, and what is your goal in doing so?

For example, with my coworkers, I do not try to explain every symptom of autism that I have and every struggle in my life.  Instead, I only explain to them symptoms that affect work.

So for work, that means communication struggles and my Auditory Processing Disorder, mostly.  I only explained my communication struggles to my one coworker that I work most closely with, because I ask her to read most of my emails before I send them.  I ask her to help me say things the right way.  I also ask for her help in reading emails that I don’t understand, and she is very kind in helping me when I don’t understand something.

For my APD I have official reasonable accommodations set up, so that I get captions for phone meetings (and they are SUPPOSED to avoid any meetings where captions aren’t possible, but I’m constantly fighting that battle...).

So that’s how I explain my autism to the people at work- I only tell them about the symptoms that affect me at work.  I don’t tell them about my issues with food, or that I have to wear 100% cotton clothes, or that I listen to the same song on repeat all day at work.  They don’t need to know those things, because it doesn’t affect how I do my job.

When I’m trying to explain my autism to my doctor, I explain a different set of symptoms.  I explain to them that I do not feel pain the same way as allistics, and that I need them to not rule out any diagnosis based on my description of pain or how something feels.  Some doctors listen.  Many do not.  I don’t go back to those doctors.  It’s hard work, but I search for doctors who do listen and do believe me when I tell them I feel pain differently, and those are the doctors I keep.  But I do not need to explain to my doctors the difficulties that I have with watching videos, or my reading comprehension struggles, because they don’t need to know that.  That’s only something my coworkers need to know.

When I’m trying to explain my autism to my friends, what I need from them is very different from what I need from my coworkers or doctors.  From my friends I need emotional support, and so I want them to know about and understand the more personal struggles I deal with.  I tell them about my difficulty with emotional regulation so that when I’m crying at work, I can reach out to them for help to get me through the moment.  I tell them about how I was stimming in the doctor’s waiting room like crazy and people were staring at me like I was a freak, so I need them to know what stimming is and why I need to do it, so they can support me.  With my friends, I do tell them the embarrassing and personal details, because I trust them.  

So I’m not sure who it is you’re trying to explain your autism to, but you don’t need to explain the whole thing to every person you interact with.  For acquaintances like coworkers, doctors, study friends, etc, you only need to explain the symptoms that affect the activity you’re doing with them.

The only time I think it’s worth it to try to explain all of my autism to someone is with people who I trust deeply, like my close friends and my therapist.  These are the people I need for support and to lean on in many different kinds of situations, and so they are the ones I want to describe my “full autism” to.  But they are also the ones that I do trust with my most personal struggles.

It’s too exhausting to try to make every allistic you meet understand autism.  For some allistics, it can take them a lifetime to understand autism, and it’s not worth putting in that work unless that person is very close to you and going to be with you for a long time.

[ourladylennon]

this is a stress rant and also I absolutely have to get these thoughts out of my head and onto something so that I can understand how I'm feeling. so pardon me.

I have some very mixed feelings about my latest tattoo experience and it has been incredibly, astoundingly stressful. For anyone who was interested in how it went.

and after typing out this whole rant and reading it back my advice is: ALWAYS make sure it is exactly what you want. ALWAYS speak up if you don’t.

I have a specific style, as everyone, but the style of tattoo I have is a bit of a niche that can be hard to find: geometric design with dotwork/pointillism/stippling techniques to create shading rather then standard fill in shading. This shading style is incredibly time consuming and taxing for the artist and I've had a lot of trouble finding people who specialize in this (and within my area).

I started with an artist about 3 years ago, whom was new to me but known to be good. Got my appt set up, he drew me an entire sleeve- it was absolutely gorgeous. Went through two sessions and his work is genuinely amazing. Clean. Precise. Detailed. Unique. I didn't vibe with him too great but it was something I kind of put aside. But without explaining the whole fucking mess that became, just know that our artist-client relationship fell through. This left me with only the beginning of my tattoo. The whole ordeal was really stressful and upsetting so I put down the goal of getting it finished to try and recoup. And I just continually hit roadblocks trying to find artists who are good at dotwork and willing to do it. Often times they live in other cities/states/etc. Obviously this involves meeting a new artist, trying to figure out if it's a good fit, driving out for consultations/redoing all that process- s t r e s s. Now with covid, it's even more difficult because almost every artist I've come across that I've considered has closed books. All of them being out of town which is fine because it would be worth it. It's expected.

But after three years of this go around of trying to find someone, I was getting really put out by the process and just wanting to get this thing going. (Mistake #1- or #2 technically cause fucking up w the first artist is where it all started and I do regret it to this day).

A new shop opened IN my town- a miracle!!! I started following an artist whose work I found to be particularly amazing. Clean lines, clean shading, artistic seeming. Didn't see any pointillism, but I just like kept seeing her work and thinking damn that's good. So I decided to reach out and told her this is what I'm looking for, a dotwork sleeve and here are some examples of the style I like. I specifically mentioned this and asked if they'd be interested in working on it because I know that dotwork is not everyone's thing. The artist replied and said they've been wanting to get into and would like to do that (we'll call this mistake #3. Do not assume the artist, even if very good at other things will be good at all things. Do not go to an artist wanting a specific style without having seen their work for THAT style).

At this point I sent over pictures of my current tattoo that we'd be adding onto for reference. In my mind this is what I thought would mean: "I am looking at what you have to see how to incorporate it into a new sleeve design and see how I can create a collaborative piece and mesh the two together." (Mistake #4: that was not the case. Do not assume. Anything. Ever.)

The appt date was relatively quick despite the fact that I figured she'd be booked out for quite some time (red flag #1: not because she wasn't busy. But because this was not a whole lot of time to come up with a design but I figured "Well she knows her capabilities better than I do and she wouldn't suggest it that soon if she weren't sure). In my previous experiences, the artist will send you a proof or have a separate appt to review the design. I never received an email with said design (red flag #2, in my personal opinion. But I thought I was just being...extra? Also just thought, okay I'll see it at the appt and it will be OK, right? <- mistake #5).

I show up, there is no sleeve design. (RED FLAG #3) There are two single mandala tattoos. Outlines only. No shading. I'd also like to say my style is much more geometric fractals than it is mandala. A lot of people find these interchangeable but...they're really much different. (RED. FLAG. #4). I genuinely did not see that coming. Maybe I'm wrong to say, but this was negligent in my opinion and experience. A sleeve design ensures that your finished piece flows, that it works together, you can see the whole picture, modify, etc. Especially with it being an addition to my existing work. Cannot stress how much of a red flag.

I'm wigging out at this point. I don't love them but I want this tattoo. I'm going back and forth thinking, "maybe it's just because the shading isn't filled in I can't picture it." (MISTAKE #6: trust your gut!!!). I tell her OK well I like this about this one and that about that one. She only nods and listens, where I was expecting feedback; perhaps an "OK well we can draw it on" or "I can rework it" etc. She didn't and I am too paralyzed to speak up. (Red flag #4)

Mistake #7: I accept it at this point. I pick between the two. She has to go resize it. I'm having a literal internal freak out and battle. I am someone who DOES NOT know how to speak up for themselves. In any way. EVER. For any reason. At any time. I am a fear based individual, in fact, I am nearly certain I have APD (avoidant personality disorder) and it effects me severely and deeply. To the point that simply speaking to someone can be hard for me.

But my brain was screaming you cannot do this! You aren't sure! This is for life! It's your body!! You HAVE to say something! (RED fucking alert)

She came back with the one design resized and my heart is thumping, my chest is constricting, the throat feels like it's closing. I make myself say it. I tell her I don't think this is what I'm looking for. I literally almost busted into tears trying to say it because I was so fucking terrified and overwhelmed. I've never been in a position where I genuinely wasn't sure whether I liked what I was looking at. She says you don't need to be sorry you should speak up this is your body. So immediately, I lost a lot of tension because of her kindness. I thought she would be angry or rude or upset, just because I'm fearful. She proceeded to kind of go in and shade in with a pencil on the stencil to give me a better idea and apologized that she should have had that prepared. I continue asking questions to assuage my concerns and feel....better....ish. she offers to redraw and reschedule but I went against my gut, gave into my desperacy to continue my sleeve, dismissed my feelings as being just my typical overexertion of fear and did something I NEVER do: turn my back on my instincts. (Mistake. Mistake #8)

She was pleasant and I genuinely enjoyed her, felt comfortable with her which is not something I can say about previous artists and that's a good chunk of why I decided to continue. I liked her, I liked her other work I've seen, I just thought that once the stippling was in that I'd see it was really nice. However, I am laying there and I'm like I do not feel poking, which is literally how dotwork is done. Dot by dot. I'd feel her do the tiniest bit of dot-dot-dot and I'm like OK OK I'm just not paying full attention and missing it. But then I'd hear and feel her shading- standard shading. I'm like why is she using a shading tip? I'm just confused honestly. I'm like I have no idea what the could be for, just assume it's necessary for something I didn't realize. But I can see because I'm laying and my arms at a weird angle.

I finally get a peek while she's pausing and its....not dotwork. It's not dotwork at all, in fact. It's too late at this point in my eyes. It was only partially done but what am I gonna do? Stop her in the middle and have an unfinished tattoo? And then what? (Try to) go to someone else to have them do dotwork and have a half unmatching tattoo? There was nothing I could do. So I resigned and accepted this as the consequences of my actions and ill choices. And that's honestly been the hardest part to deal with: I let this happen to myself because I could not speak up. The only person who could have stopped this was ME. And I could not do it. That's how deeply my issues of fear run. And that is terrifying, pathetic, sad.

I'm not saying I got the world's ugliest tattoo. It's okay. Just okay. In the words of RuPaul, meh. I don't want meh. I want astounding. And I didn't do what I needed to to make that happen or not happen.

I just have been in awe over the fact that I asked for dotwork and the artist expressed no concern over this, literally had my existing tattoo right above where they were working and continued to not emulate that style of shading at all. Most of this is my fault, 90% of it. But there was negligence on the artists side and I genuinely don't think they meant it to be. I just don't think they had enough experience, but they too should have spoke up if they didn't feel they could carry it out. They gave me no inclination that they could not or would not be doing dotwork. At any point. And I do feel upset that I don't think they put in the effort or care to work off my existing tattoo in their design, and in looking back, their design also does not look nearly anything like the designs I gave for example. It was my job to walk away and request a redesign or to cancel and I didn't. So in the end this is on me. And it has been very taxing on my mental state.

To end this shit show: the tattoo I just got costed half of what my first one did, while only having taking the fraction of time as my first and being less then half the size of my first. It is not nearly as clean, it certainly reflects their level of experience. The shop environment was not fantastic: it felt a bit like as if I had walked into a chain restaurant...but a tattoo shop. There were no private rooms, there were no tattoo chairs. They were literal stools and that's not...not professional or normal. And I chose to continue.

I'm faced with some really tough decisions moving forward. I am at least thankful it is relatively small ish and wraps towards my inner arm which makes it less visible. But I'm at a crossroads of whether I go through the whole mess of trying to find a FOURTH artist to try and finish my sleeve the way it was meant to be finished (dotwork, whole sleeve design etc) and make the best of it at the risk of having a fucking patchwork arm. Or I continue to work with this artist and see the design through myself (literally design it myself which I didn't want to do but it doesn't appear that I should leave this to them), so that at least the remainder of my arm is consistent shading and work.

And because I've made it sound like the tattoo is atrocious, be assured it's not trash by any means. It's just not what I wanted. Big sis learned a big lesson.

(the immediate center is bothering me the most. But I think it can be altered. Nonetheless. The skill/experience level shows, unfortunately. And you can certainly see the difference between the stipple shading on my first tattoo and the regular shading on the new one.)

I am trying to be positive and that's all I can do. I accept the results and I think it can be fixed to a certain extent, and I can only hope as I move forward that I make the right decision and that the end product is something I enjoy.

[tarlosprompts]

Maybe we could get a fic of TK having to watch Carlos get shot on a call? Also thanks so much if you end up writing it!

Claimed by Red💋

This is going to be a 2 parter! It fits well with another prompt I have!

Warnings: mentions of gangs, gun violence, fire, violence, slight dissociation of a major character

Quiet Days

The quiet days were the days that made TK especially anxious. In his line of duty, it felt like it was all leading up to something...something that TK wouldn’t be able to process. The quiet days made TK feel like he had no control because he knew that it was all leading to something...something that wasn’t good. 

Hell, Buttercup even seemed anxious as the firefighters milled around the firehouse, no chores left to be done. His dad had caught up on all of his paperwork and was trying-and failing-to peacefully read his book. Owen kept glancing at the clock as if that would help a call to come in sooner. 

They all hated quiet days.

Carlos especially hated quiet days. He had once told TK that quiet days were hell days. They usually ended up in a horrible call at the end of shift...one that would scar the first responders. TK hoped that, for Carlos at least, it wasn’t a quiet day. 

Quiet days were the worst, that’s why when the call came in an hour before the shift ended, TK felt his anxiety skyrocket. Owen debriefed them as they rode to the sight, “APD responded to a gang shooting. They ended up in the middle of two gangs’ territory dispute. APD have a couple of officers down but they have said the situation is under control. They called us in because one of the dumbasses set their stash house on fire. Judd and TK, I want you to go in and check for any downed men. Marjan and Probie, I want you on the hose. Paul, I want you to help our paramedics with triage.”

The crew spoke their affirmations as they pulled up to the scene. As TK got ready, he scanned the crowd trying to spot Carlos. Most likely, he had been called out to assist...he just wanted to make sure he was alright. “Your cop is with Michelle, triaging.” Judd pointed to the left and TK followed his finger. Carlos was alright.

“I was assessing the situation, but thanks for that,” he stated.

Judd chuckled, “right.”

He and Judd quickly made their way towards the inferno, but not before Carlos spotted TK and sent him a smile. That put a smile on TK’s face as he and Judd entered the stash house. “Whatever chemicals they were using is extremely flammable. The heat in here is off the charts,” TK called into the radio. 

“Search fast and get out of there,” Owen replied.

“You go left, I’ll go right and we’ll get out of here fast,” Judd shouted. 

TK nodded and went off on his search. Two minutes later, TK radios in, “I’ve got stairs leading to a basement on the north west side. I’m going down.” 

“Make it fast, brother,” Judd responded, “almost through with my sweep.”

TK quickly, but safely made his way down to the basement. The fire wasn’t burning as brightly, but TK could see a huge problem. “Propane tanks. Four of them. They’re heating up, we need to move the perimeter back,” he called out.

“Judd, TK, get out of there, now,” Owen ordered. 

TK turned to leave, but heard a small “help”. He turned around and searched, spotting a lump in the smoke. 

“I’ve got one down, retrieving them and exiting.”

TK picked the person up in a fireman’s carry and hurried up the steps. He moved as fast as possible through the crackling building, making four steps out of the inferno before he felt weightless.

TK must have blacked out for a few seconds because he was having a hard time opening his eyes. He managed, pulling the mask off his face and groaning quietly. His ears were ringing and the lights from the emergency vehicles were too bright. There was a lump three feet ahead of him and rushing feet coming towards him. 

TK pushed himself up to a standing position as the world blurred. TK was turned towards the police and prisoners that had yet to be carted off. He watched as one of them get their hands free and grabbed a gun from an unsuspecting officer. He aimed the gun towards the triage tent and all TK could do was feel himself scream Carlos’ name as the gun was pointed towards him. And TK could see Carlos hit the ground. And the guy was aiming again and it was aimed at Michelle. And TK was close. And he reacted. 

TK grabbed the arm that was aiming and pointed it towards the sky as the trigger pulled. TK twisted the man’s wrist and felt the bones in the man’s wrist break. He didn’t pay attention to the man’s screams. He just moved a hand up to the man’s head and brought it down on his knee once, twice, three times before letting the limp man fall to the ground. 

TK could hear his ragged breathing and his rapid heartbeat as he turned back to Carlos. He moved quickly, probably running over to where Michelle was bent over the latino man. He dropped on his knees next to Carlos, hands fluttering, not knowing where to place them. 

The heartbeat in his ears died down some to listen to Michelle as she moved his head to look at her. “He was wearing a vest and the guy knew it. He was shot in the shoulder. He’s going to be fine, he just hit his head on the way down. Do you understand?” TK just stared at her. “TK, do you understand what I just told you?”

TK took a deep breath and swallowed, nodding his head slightly. He ran a hand over Carlos’s short hair. It was a motion he’d do when he’d had a long, hard shift and had arrived at Carlos’s for a late night dinner but the man had fallen asleep on the couch. It always helped him to put the day’s events behind. 

He watched as Carlos was put on a backboard and into the ambulance. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see his father. “Go with him. It's the end of your shift anyway. Keep me updated.” 

That’s all TK needed to be jumping on the ambulance. “And Kid,” his dad called as he gripped the door to the ambulance. TK glanced back at him. “Get checked out while you’re there. You took a nasty fall. Blacked out for thirty seconds.”

[bellakitse]

The Last of the Romantics

Michelle has a history of setting Carlos up with the worse guys possible, she swears this time it's different.

* “Tell me about him,” he says resigned, knowing he’s been played by the way Michelle instantly perks up.

“He’s one of the new members at the 126,” she starts with a grin. “And Carlos, he’s so pretty.”

30 days of Tarlos - Day 3

Inspired by @lauraperfectinsanity prompt here

There is a bright devious smile on Michelle’s face when Carlos sits down across from her for their lunch. It’s familiar, and it sends a chill down his spine when paired with her earlier message to him that he just had to meet her for lunch.

“No,” he says as he puts his plate on the table.

“You haven’t even heard what I have to say,” she complains.

“Yeah, because we haven’t been friends for over seven years,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he squeezes lime juice over his carnitas tacos. “Not like I don’t know your ‘I found the perfect guy for you this time, Carlos, really’ face.”

He raises a brow at her, daring her to prove him wrong, and Michelle frowns back at him, pouting for all of ten seconds before she’s smiling again all cheery.

“Fine, you’re right,” she starts, holding up a hand when he starts to groan. “But this time, I did find the perfect guy for you, so stop giving me that face.”

Carlos looks at her for a moment, and she locks eyes with him, staring back in a battle of wills.

“That’s what you said about Robert Greene,” he says, pleased when Michelle makes a face at the name.

“He – “ she starts, ready to argue.

“Was in a cult,” he says, not giving her the chance.

“Okay so maybe – “

“Then there was that EMT acquaintance of yours, Joe?” he says like he doesn’t remember the weirdo. “With the extreme medical kink he wanted to take into the bedroom.”

“He was gross,” she admits with a shudder.

“Michael,” he continues with emphasis. “Who I still say was a drug mule and wanted to use me as an alibi.”

Michelle lets out a huff, rolling her eyes at him. “Do you have a point, Carlos?”

“My point,” he says back with as much attitude as she’s giving him. “Is that when you find the ‘perfect guy’ for me, he ends up being a weirdo, a creep, or a criminal. I love you, Michelle, but you suck at matchmaking.”

Michelle’s shoulders drop, making him feel bad instantly. He tries hard not to cave, he knows from too many bad dates – not just the three men he mentioned – that Michelle’s taste in men for him is awful. Still, he’s never been good at saying no to his friend, so with a deep sigh, he gives in.

“Tell me about him,” he says resigned, knowing he’s been played by the way Michelle instantly perks up.

“He’s one of the new members at the 126,” she starts with a grin. “And Carlos, he’s so pretty.”

Carlos listens to his friend as she sings the praises of this new guy, the Captain’s son, himself a firefighter, handsome, and friendly, according to her. And although Michelle’s track record is horrible, he finds himself agreeing to stop by the firehouse some evening for dinner to meet the guy.

֍֍֍

 There isn’t a chance for the dinner until two weeks later; his schedule gets insane as they work on a string of home invasions. Before they lost the original 126, he used to come to the firehouse all the time. They were his friends; it wasn’t easy to go back after losing them, but as he walks into the house, so different from before, he lets out the breath he’s been holding as he finds an entirely different place. It makes it easier to be there.

“Reyes!” he hears someone shout out, and he finds himself smiling as he looks up to find Judd Ryder on top of one of the trucks with another firefighter, his back to him.

“Hey, Judd,” he greets his friend with a wave as he walks towards him.

Judd climbs down from the rig, a broad smile on his face that Carlos hasn’t seen in a while. He gives him a back-slapping hug, knocking the air out of him for a moment. Over Judd’s shoulder, he sees that his friend’s crew member has also climbed down the truck, a smirk on his face as Judd hugs him tight.

“It’s been a while, kid,” Judd says as he pulls back, smiles still firmly in place. “What brings you by?”

“Michelle,” he answers, rolling his eyes. “She invited me to dinner to meet the new crew,” he says meaningfully and knows Judd understands by the way his eyes light up with amusement. He’s known Judd and his wife Grace almost as long as he’s known Michelle; as a result, Judd has had a front-row seat to Michelle’s matchmaking for years.

“Ah,” he says knowingly. “Well then, allow me to introduce you to my boy here,” Judd turns to his friend with a smirk. “Pretty sure he’s who Michelle wants you to meet. This is TK Strand, TK; this is Carlos Reyes from the APD.”

Carlos locks eyes with the man his friend is introducing to him and quickly concludes that Michelle sold him short when describing him. She said he was handsome, but TK Strand is so much more than that. He’s downright gorgeous, with beautiful bottle-green eyes, soft-looking brown hair, and a face that leaves Carlos a little stunned as he stares back. The rest of him, dressed in a fitted grey Austin Fire shirt and black work pants, is downright drool-worthy.

“Yeah,” TK says with a nod of his head. “Captain Blake has mentioned you once or twice,” a slow-building grin crossing his kissable mouth. “Or maybe a dozen times, she seems to think we’d hit it off.”

Carlos cringes at the laughter he hears in TK’s voice. Damn it, Michelle.

“So, tell me why you’re the perfect guy for me,” TK continues bluntly, the smirk on his face is as sexy as it is annoying.

Carlos’ eyes go wide as he chokes on his own saliva. “Excuse me?” he asks, his voice higher than he would like.

TK holds up his hands in front of him, giving him a shrug that just draws his attention to his nice-looking arms in that tight shirt of his. “Hey, that’s what Michelle said,” he tells him, and Carlos can feel his face go red with embarrassment. He glares at Judd when the older man chuckles at his expense.

“I’m gonna go check on dinner,” Judd says, taking a few steps away, barely hiding his continued amusement. “You’re lucky Reyes, Strickland is cooking tonight, and he’s really good. Almost as good as you. So stick around.”

He turns away, heading for the kitchen, leaving Carlos with a grinning TK.

“Please tell me she didn’t say that,” he begs once they’re alone. “Please.”

“Sorry,” TK answers, wrinkling his nose adorably, and Carlos has to bite down on his lip to keep from whimpering at just how cute he is.

“She didn’t out and out say it, but she also hasn’t been subtle about it at all, and I know a matchmaking scheme when I hear one,” TK grins again before slowly looking him up and down. “She’s been telling me about your many, many attributes.”

“Fuck me,” Carlos groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Take me out on a date first, and then we’ll see about that,” TK answers easily, and Carlos finds himself staring at the handsome guy in front of him with eyes wide as saucers.

“Are you serious?” he asks after he collects his tongue off the ground.

TK smiles at him again, a little shy for someone who just suggested they might sleep together, and Carlos is weirdly charmed by the contradiction.

“Michelle made you sound like a dream,” he confesses. “And you look like a walking, wet dream,” he flirts, brazen again.

It makes Carlos dizzy with excitement as he tries to stay on his toes and keep up.

“Michelle is my best friend; she likes to hype me up,” he tells him. He likes TK already, he’s more than willing to take him on a date and see if this electricity he feels between them can be the start of something, but he doesn’t want the guy to go in with unrealistic expectations. “I would love to take you out, but you need to know I’m just a regular guy, I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

TK’s expression turns gentle at his words; his green eyes are soft and kind.

“If even a third of what she told me about you is true,” he starts to say softly. “Then there’s no way I’ll be disappointed.”

Carlos smiles back at him; he feels himself humming with anticipation. “How does Friday sound then? Dinner?”

“Friday works,” TK grins back at him happily. “Now come on, you didn’t just come to meet me, and Judd wasn’t kidding, Paul’s food is fantastic,” he tells him.

Proving that he’s not done surprising him, TK holds out his hand to him.

He stares at it for a moment before taking it, letting out a small gasp at the way his body lights up when he and TK touch. The amazed look TK gives him back tells him he’s not the only one who felt it.

It’s that feeling, the touch of TK’s hand, and the prospect of Friday and with any hope, many Fridays to come, that keeps him from rolling his eyes when he and TK walk into the kitchen, and he locks eyes with a smirking Michelle.

If she finally hit a home run on the matchmaking – and he thinks as he looks at TK only to find his eyes already on him that maybe she has – he’ll let her be smug forever.

[morganaspendragonss]

@badthingshappenbingo​ request for @221bsunsettowers​. thank you for the prompt!

also written for Day 1 of @whumptober2020​.

prompt(s): Water Torture (BTHB) & waking up restrained

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

ao3

Carlos wakes up slowly. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at the pounding in his head. He lifts his hand to massage the pain away, only to discover that his hand won't move, the cool metal of handcuffs biting viciously into his wrist. He frowns, forcing his eyes wider, taking in the room he’s in. 

It’s dirty, litter strewn across the stone floor, clearly having been abandoned for years. The windows are broken and the low ceiling looks liable to fall in at any moment. Carlos shivers, a chill stealing through him; he’s barefoot and his shirt is missing. 

His head aches dully as he strains to remember what happened. He’d been on an undercover mission, trying to expose Austin’s latest drug ring, he’d been so goddamned close to finally getting a breakthrough. 

Fuck.

There were more officers with him on the case, but Carlos knows there’s very little chance of any of them coming to find him. Judging by the lack of light filtering through the windows, it’s still night, which means they won’t notice anything’s amiss until he misses check-in in however many hours. It’ll take longer to figure out that he’s been taken, and longer still to find him, presuming they do. And by that time…

Well, Carlos doesn’t want to be pessimistic, but he knows his odds. It’s realism, if anything.

He just wishes he could talk to T.K. one last time. Tell him he loves him. Tell him he’s sorry.

A door bangs open behind Carlos. He tries to crane his neck to see who it is, but he’s stiff and his mobility is already limited by the restraints. He doesn’t have to wait long, however; the guy makes his way around to face him, and Carlos instantly recognises him as one of the gang leaders. Anderson, his name is. He’s carrying a chair, which he sets down in front of Carlos.

“Good to see you awake,” he says, an ugly smile twisting his features. He sits, leaning forward, steepling his hands together. “To business, then. Carlos - can I call you Carlos? - we have a little problem, you and I.”

A chill of fear steals through Carlos at the sound of his name. He doesn’t understand how he knows it - he thought he’d been so careful.

Anderson chuckles. “Yeah, we know who you are. You can dress how you want, pretend to be whoever you want, but you smell like a cop. I had the lads do some digging, it didn't take long to come up with a name. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Carlos Reyes.”

Anderson stands and walks behind Carlos, placing his hands roughly on his shoulders. “Now, that brings me onto my problem. You see, I know there’s more of you. Two, three, I don’t know. They’re better than you are. I have my suspicions, of course, but I need to be sure, you know? Can’t be getting rid of some perfectly good workers now, can I? So.” He digs his nails into Carlos’s skin, leaning close. “You tell me who your little cop friends are and I promise I’ll make it quick for you. Scout’s honour.”

In answer, Carlos throws his head back, relishing Anderson’s pained yell as it connects with his face. The pressure disappears from his shoulders, but the moment is short-lived; Carlos grunts as a hand connects with his head, snapping it forwards. 

Breathing hard, Anderson comes to stand before Carlos, a hand cupping his cheek. Carlos feels a stab of disappointment at that - he’d been aiming for the nose. Still. It’s a victory, albeit a somewhat pointless one.

That fact is kind of rammed home when Anderson growls, “Poor choice, Reyes. Very poor choice.”

He nods curtly, eyes fixed on a spot just over Carlos’s left shoulder. Carlos tries to see, but once again the restraints stop him. He can still hear, though, and he can tell that there’s at least two other people in the room. Whether or not they came in with Anderson, Carlos doesn’t know, but he knows that their presence can’t be good. 

He’s proven right when one of them comes into view, a mask covering his face. Anderson moves his chair away and pulls on his own mask, though he gives Carlos one last shark-like grin before he does so. A camera replaces the chair, red light blinking, and Carlos feels sick with dread as he realises what is going to happen.

He hears Anderson’s other guy step behind him and he braces himself for whatever they’re going to throw at him.

“You’re gonna tell us the names, one way or the other,” Anderson says, voice silky soft. “But, just in case you’ve got any ideas about resisting, I think I ought to add a little extra...incentive.”

He bends down, lips almost brushing Carlos’s ear. “T.K. Strand,” he whispers, dragging out the syllables.

Carlos recoils as much as he is able, staring at Anderson with undisguised horror. “What have you done to him?”

Anderson laughs. “Nothing, yet. But he’ll be watching, Reyes. He’s gonna watch you die, but not before he watches you spill every little secret the APD has.”

Carlos can’t breathe. “No -” he manages, but then there are hands in his hair, on his face, forcing his head back harshly.

He has time for one last gasping breath before a cloth is forced over his face and water comes pouring down.

*

Carlos doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s exhausted, and soaked, and he can’t stop shivering. The handcuffs are the only things keeping him in the chair at this point, and even then it’s a close thing. He coughs, and apparently Anderson considers that defiance enough as his men throw another pail of ice water over him. 

“C’mon Reyes,” Anderson wheedles. “You’re dead already. I know that. You know that. Don’t you have any last words for our audience, huh? Any...I don’t know, names? Don’t you want to get revenge on the captains sitting pretty in their office while you die for them? Huh? You gotta make your death mean something, Carlos.”

Carlos forces another breath, then slowly, laboriously, raises his head up. He meets Anderson’s eyes before turning his gaze to look directly down the camera. 

He tries to speak, but he’s too tired, the words refusing to come out. Anderson leers at him. “Need some water there, Reyes?” he asks, delight clear in his voice.

Carlos panics. “No,” he croaks. Then, louder, “No!” He takes a moment to compose himself and sits up as straight as he can, forcing himself to smile.

“T.K.,” he says, hoping that T.K. is listening, and also dreading that exact thing. “T.K., I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I -”

The cloth is forced back over his face and Carlos chokes as water fills up his mouth and eyes and nose. It’s left on longer than before - too long - and Carlos wonders if he’s pushed them too far, if this is when he dies. The thought isn’t as terrifying as it had been earlier.

But then the cloth is ripped away and replaced with Anderson’s face, mask pulled back to showcase the full extent of his fury.

“That was sweet,” he snarls. “And stupid. You overestimate your importance to me, boy.” He pulls back, staring down at Carlos with disdain. “Finish it.”

And Carlos doesn’t have time for another thought as he’s grabbed again, fists flying at every inch of his body. At some point, the chair tips over, and the cold pain of his face being pummelled into concrete is the last thing Carlos knows.

*

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t - 

Carlos brings his hands up to his throat, eyes flying wide with panic as everything comes flooding back to him. There are voices, shouting, but Carlos can’t figure out what they’re saying through the haze of fear. A face comes into view and it feels familiar, but it’s gone too quickly, replaced by strange hands and eyes and a beeping that’s getting louder and louder - 

Carlos falls into the dark.

*

The next time he wakes is a lot calmer. He can breathe now and relishes in the feeling, before remembering that he’s not supposed to be breathing at all. 

Carlos cracks his eyes open, squinting at his surroundings. 

Ah. A hospital.

He doesn’t know how he got here, but he’s too exhausted and his throat is too sore to bother trying to ask. Instead, he rolls his head to the side, instantly cheering when he spots the figure slumped in the chair. Carlos notices T.K.’s hand sitting limply in his own, so he squeezes it gently, knowing from experience of this situation in reverse that T.K. will be on high alert for any sign of life.

True to form, T.K., jerks awake, wide-eyed gaze seeking out Carlos. “‘Los,” he croaks, voice still thick with sleep, but to Carlos it sounds like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Tears slip down T.K.’s cheeks, but he brushes them away and presses a kiss to Carlos’s hand. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Carlos admits, but the effort of speaking scratches his throat and sends him into a painful coughing fit. T.K. holds him through it, and when it passes, there’s a cup at Carlos’s lips, pre-empting his request.

He settles back into the pillows, his eyes drifting closed. T.K.’s hand cards gently through his hair and Carlos drifts back to sleep, at peace and safe.

[oblivianbrain]

Unsure if I have APD (Auditory processing disorder) But, I remember when I was a wee child (Honestly not that young) And my mom took me to the hosptial because she thought I had hearing loss because she would talk to me and I just wouldn't respond, or interpret it wrong. I was completely fine, but I still have similar issues except my right ea r likes to make a strange static noise when someone talks too loud. And it makes my hearing completely go bye bye, or makes me cry? (Not because I'm sad but it affects my sinuses)

IDK if it's tinnitus, because I got my ears cleaned out and it literally did nothing...Anyways I kinda realize when I hear backgrounds noises It's hard to hear sometimes, because I'm too focused on it, and accents are hard to hear or old people because they just slur so much I can't understand them. My siblings and my parents would understand my grandpa so clearly and I would be like. "wheat??"

This isn't APD but I also tend to space out sometimes and miss some things you said, and sometimes I quickly forget what you said.

And then watching films my mom hates it when I put on subtitles because they're distracting...Lady for YOU maybe? But for me? A complete Godsend I love captions/subtitles. People talk so quietly, with loud noise going in the background, or sometimes their words just sound extremely slurred.

I especially can't understand you if there's a certain trigger noise going on in the background and I can't focus anymore.

[k-s-morgan]

(1/5)Hi again!) Hm, I don't think that Merope could have influenced Tom that much? If we take for granted that his lack of impulse control and not-so-great-ability to fully comprehend the consequences of his own actions aren't the result of his upbringing and are the result of pre-born circumstances. (Otherwise, sure) She herself didn't really think about consequences too much, if I think about it. Could she really present a logical argument why you shouldn't hurt people? One he would listen to?

(2/5)In fact, I don't think she had that integrity in the first place, hence the whole Riddle affair... (I suppose, one could work with thought patterns to prevent needless cruelty, APD-therapy-ish, but it would be hard, just on an intellectual level - because Tom is clever enough to catch obvious bullshit.)Speaking of "asexuality being used just to justify the lack of same-sex physical intimacy", people might often forget that aro ace couples can and frequently are physically or/and emotionally 

(3/5) affectionate with each other. Like, we do not just stare at each other lovingly and talk about purely platonic things. We cuddle, sleep together, explore our sexualities (kinks, rated fics, etc; a lot of aces actually are more willing to discuss sex than an average non asexual person, at least where I am), talk about relationships.. I am afraid that people just don't understand that asexuality isn't an absence of sexuality. It is a sexual orientation. Er,well, that was definitely rambling.

(4/6) I hope you don't mind. Sorry? P.S. What's your stance on "manipulative Dumbledore"? I recently 've been told an opinion that Harry wasn't "his responsibility", that he was just a Headmaster (+ a bunch of other things) and he doesn't have an obligation to be invested in the lives of his student on such a personal level so he would deal with their individual personal problems.P.P.S. Have you read The Train to Nowhere? I checked and you haven't mentioned it in any of your fic rec lists.

(5/5) It has quite an oblivious Voldemort in it - he completely doesn't read the signals as sexual, even though they'd be pretty obvious to an average observer. I absolutely loved it, partially because I nurse I headcanon of him being ace in there, even though it's 100% not gonna happen.( Well, for what we need slow burn if not for the opportunity to headcanon characters as a-spec and relationships as qpr for as long as possible (at least, a lot of aces told me it's the case with them.)) -- Alen

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

Hey, Alen! Thank you for as always interesting message))

1) With Merope, I can see several ways of development. From how we see her in canon, she doesn’t seem likely to provide Tom with a healthy environment, but some people transform drastically when they give birth to a child, so maybe this could have happened to her? She could have regretted her actions and tried to raise Tom to the best of her abilities. She could seek help from magical and Muggle communities both. Or maybe she’d raise a monster still - it’s interesting to speculate about it. But I think Tom would love his mother anyway if she stayed by his side.

2) Very true about asexuals and the attitude of many of them toward sex. In fact, the guy I lost virginity to told me later that he suspected I might be ace because the topic of sex and sex itself never fazed me and I treated it like a curious puzzle :D And yes, people who know little of asexuality try to use it as an excuse while also failing to understand what it means completely. So many of them think asexual = celibate.

3)  Dumbledore is very manipulative, but he’s not a villain either. He had to make some of the toughest decisions in his life, and his gray morality is the reason why I like him. All in all, he treated Harry terribly because he did raise him like a pig for slaughter, but it was for ‘greater good’ - and greater good is greater in terms of its scale. Dumbledore tried to rid Harry of the Horcrux, like with the Basilisk’s fang, but when it failed, he knew Harry would have to die to defeat Voldemort once and for all and save all other people. Granted, I think the whole existence of  Voldemort is partly Dumbledore’s fault because he treated Tom unfairly and cruelly from the start. The fact that he hid his parentage from him, even though Tom was likely mocked and bullied for it for the first year or two, definitely contributed to Tom’s overall bitterness. 

As for Harry not being his responsibility... of course he was -  Dumbledore made it so from the moment he chose to leave him in an abusive household to raise a potential hero with no feeling of self-worth. Harry was always special.  Dumbledore wasn’t just a Headmaster, he was a key player in the fight against Voldemort, and while I believe he loved Harry, he was prepared to sacrifice him to win this fight, which warranted a more personal contact and influence. 

4) I did read The Train to Nowhere and I absolutely loved it! I think I spent the entire night reading it. The reason why I don’t mention it in my lists is that the pacing there is very slow, and by the chapter I read last, we clearly weren’t even half-way close to the ending. I’m a bit cautious about labelling something as my favorite work when I have no idea of where the story might still go and how the central relationship will develop. I think I’m going to catch up on all the chapters I missed, though))

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Conspiracy (4/10)

Carlos has managed, after a day and a half, to come up with no real evidence to arrest someone for the murder of Owen Strand. There was no forensic evidence really, except for how telling the lack of it was. No one will give him a straight answer on anything. While TK is still his prime suspect, for obvious reasons, observing him makes it hard to believe that he has it in him to murder. He’s apathetic and traumatized, but he’s also more scared than anything. His father was abusive, and now, that same father he has relied on his entire life is gone in a rather horrific way. TK seems almost too detached from it to have killed him. 

He’s looked into the 126 too, and they don’t seem to have put down real roots in Austin. Not the new firefighters, anyways. Judd Ryder’s wife and friends don’t think him capable of hurting a fly. Michelle Blake’s only friends are people she volunteers with, who said much the same. Nancy Gillian and Tim Rosewater are unassuming, with no one thinking they’d commit murder, but not too sure that they’re incapable of it. As for Marjan Marwani, Mateo Chavez, and Paul Strickland-- there isn’t much to go on in the city at all. Public pressure is mounting nonetheless, however. Captain Strand was loved by the civilians. They want to see someone rot for the grisly, humiliating death. 

It’s hard to do, but he’s forced to release TK from custody, and watch him cling to the 126, all of whom arrived to pick him up. He buries his face in Judd’s chest as they all crowd around him protectively, even the paramedics. Michelle glances at Carlos and it sends a chill down his spine. She looks almost smug. Like she knows something he doesn't, and he won’t be able to solve this case because of it. He trusts his instincts; that’s how he got this far in the APD. But his instincts alone are not enough for an arrest, let alone a conviction, no matter how clear it seems to him that one of these eight people did it.

Officer Tamin hands him a coffee as he looks over the file again. Someone went to Owen Strand’s house and killed him. Captain Strand either let them in or they had a key. They knew the dog wouldn’t be there. And they knew that the victim abused his son and Mateo Chavez. 

“You know who we haven’t talked to?” she asks.

“Owen Strand.”

She squints at him for a moment to see if he’s serious before continuing. “Judd Ryder’s wife, Grace. She works 911 dispatch. If the victim called 911, he probably would have asked to speak to her. These firefighters-- they’re tight knit. He wouldn’t talk to someone he didn’t trust. Say Grace knew, she could have dismissed the call.”

“That’s a wild theory with way too many assumptions,” Carlos answers. “But, it might be worth talking to her to see what she knows. You coming with?”

They take the cruiser, fully marked, to make sure Judd knows they’re onto him. Someone killed Captain Strand, and whether he deserved it or not, murder is still a crime. One this horrific and clearly pre-planned will earn capital punishment from the harsh court. Not pretty, but the law. An image of TK strapped down for a lethal injection pops into his brain, leaving Carlos distressed and worried for the entire drive.

Once they get to the Ryder residence and knock, Grace answers the door. She’s a fair bit shorter than Judd, with a much kinder and more open face that crumples in confusion and fear. “Did something happen to Judd?”

“No, ma’am,” Carlos assures quickly. “Your husband is just fine. I’m Detective Reyes, this is Officer Tamin. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if that’s alright.”

She waves them in and pours three glasses of iced tea, the picture of southern hospitality. The home is clean and organized, with lots of photos peppered on the walls. Pictures of the former 126, mostly. Carlos recognizes their faces from the obituary and the long-standing memorial before Captain Strand came to the city and put the firehouse back together. There’s a photo of the new 126 as well, but the Captain missing from it rather conspicuously.

“We just wanted to ask you a few questions about Captain Strand.”

“Oh, sure. I was sorry to hear about him. Poor TK.”

Officer Tamin gives Carlos a look. She’s not so openly angry as the rest of them are, even if she seems more apathetic than mournful. Maybe she didn’t know the victim all that well. But either way, she could provide some further insight into the team dynamic, something to help Carlos get to the bottom of all this before he gets demoted for his incompetence.

“Were you close with him?”

Grace shakes her head. “No. I don’t know why, but Judd just- he didn’t want me near the captain. I was always around at his own firehouse, and I know his new crew pretty well, but he just insisted that I keep my distance from Owen. I figured it was ‘cause Judd’s still working through losing his old cap.”

He was protecting her. Carlos can understand that. He gets the same sort of instinct thinking about TK, which is something he’s trying to ignore before it compromises the investigation. That’s not what he should be focusing on.

“Did Judd talk about him? Maybe that he was angry at the captain?”

The welcoming, open expression on Grace’s face falls flat. “You don’t think he did that?”

 This is one of the hard parts. Not telling the victim’s family that they will never come home for dinner again. But telling the murderer’s family that their loved one is capable of such cruelty, that’s a sort of heartbreaking Carlos didn’t expect.

“We’re just looking into some things,” he says. “Captain Strand knew his attacker, so we’re just covering our bases.”

“Well, I don’t think Judd and Owen really got along, but my husband isn’t a murderer,” Grace says firmly. “And I don’t appreciate you implying he could be.”

Carlos sighs. That’s not the point. “We’re just doing our due diligence, Mrs. Ryder, we don’t mean any offence. You say you don’t think they got along, why was that?”

She’s hesitant to speak to him now, all too aware that this is more of an investigation than a friendly stop-by. He doesn’t blame her. As a child, he felt the same apprehension at the attention of police, something which has faded since he became a cop himself. She’s looking between him and Officer Tamin like she’s afraid the wrong answer will bring the world crashing down on her. Carlos wishes he could hug her and tell her it’s okay, but he doesn’t know it could be.

“I don’t know much, honestly. Judd didn’t talk about him. When he did, it was kind of like you talk about rotten food, you know. He just didn’t like him.”

That part isn’t too surprising. “Did he talk about TK Strand?”

“Oh, he loves TK,” Grace smiles at the thought. “We have that boy over to dinner almost every week. Sweet kid.”

“And what do you know about TK’s relationship with his father?”

“They always seemed close, but TK was also angry with him a lot. He didn’t ever say why.”

The last question Carlos asks is if Judd was home all night when the victim died, which she confirms. She doesn’t sound too sure, though, and he leaves his card in case she decides to turn on him. If someone doesn’t turn over, they might not be able to solve this case. Someone who’s not directly involved, and doesn’t like what happened.

The weak link.

When they get outside, Carlos turns to Officer Tamin. “I think Mateo Chavez might be our best bet. But if we just approach him, he won’t be alone. That firehouse is protective.”

“So what’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we’re going to have to use TK.”

-

@smileofthesun27 @skylark50 @heartofmarjan @chiefsheepbird @ebug2002 @proceduralpassion @cauldronbornkid

[lifeontheborderlineblog-blog]

She’s a freak.

Can a person living with a mental health disorder ever find love?

I’ve been watching a lot of Netflix movies that involve the whole, boy/girl falls for the poplar jock/prom Queen and then looses all her/his friends over something really dramatic and realises they loved their Geeky best friend all along and everything just fixes itself again. Insert cheesy narrative of them telling the watchers “I learnt that life...” or “I never knew that that special person, was... standing right in front of me” 

See I have never been in love, I have been “in love” because thanks to BPD I fall in love with the first person that talks to me. I don’t know if I’d even know what real love felt like because everything ends before I get the chance. Mainly I suck at being a normal human and keeping normal people relationships. I have pushed so many people away over the last few weeks, like they do in those movies, except in the situation it can’t be made up with an apology or cliche explanation. Because I will probably make the same mistake over and over again, although I’m trying to notice my patterns it isn't always obvious until after the wave of depression has crashed on the shore. The wave is sucked out by the current of the next wave and it is then I see the damage the previous wave has caused, the waves keep coming and the damage stays the same. 

I told someone from church I wouldn't be going back, I feel like I hurt his feelings when I told him “I can’t be in a place where everyone dislikes me, thinks I’m weird”, I didn't tell him he was an exception because part of me feels like he is among them and the other I was just too wrapped up in her own baggage to realise he may not feel the way I think. I mean he messages me and invites me to his sport days, someone who disliked me wouldn't do that, I’m thinking in ‘wise mind’ right now, a sometimes handy DBT skill that I’m yet to master/understand. I am open to an extent with people when I feel they dislike me, but even if they deny my paranoia I only feel like they are lying for make sake... sometimes. You see it’s all about facial expression and body language, if I get a weird vibe, I’m not going to believe you. It’s the same way if someone looks at me differently, their voice changes I pick up on that, I pick up on everything and it hits me hard. “They are mad at you, they think you’re a freak, remember that insta video you made? yeah they saw that and laughed at you”, I’m made of tissue paper.

The thing is, everyone that I know are successful in what they are doing, they have families, friends, husbands and boyfriends. I am lucky if I can get someone to enjoy my company for more than a minute, because I have nothing to offer to a conversation, I am the least interesting person alive. I don’t have a job, I don’t have friends, I haven't ever had a boyfriend just a long line of encounters with men that never stay longer than two-three weeks.

 In the film ‘Girl Interrupted’ they described a person with BPD as “unstable in relationships, self image and mood, uncertainty about goals, activities that are impulsive and self damaging such as casual sex. Pessimistic attitude was also added in there. I”ve had stuff like this thrown at me for years I never gave much attention but hearing it in this film, it hit me hard. Susanna says “that’s me” and I thought the same thing, except more. I have refused to accept that I do have traits from other Cluster B disorders such as Anti-Social Personality Disorder (APD) and Histrionic Personalty Disorder (HPD) the HPD hit me harder after self discovering because it’s such a deep disorder. I am uncountable with people being better than me or getting more attention than me, I will literally do or say anything to be... different. For someone that doesn't want to draw attention or stand out, I do a lot of things that draw attention. I’m confused how I can want to fit in so bad with everyone but be different at the same time.

I am truly fucked up.

Back to the love thing, because I can’t find love or have any chance at ever finding love, I turn to the first person who offers it. I will do literally anything to stop them leaving me, I will do anything to make them love me... anything. I have so many regrets because I wish I didn't give myself away so easily just because I thought it would make them love me. And I keep doing it. Deep down I want to feel something, anything than this dark hallow pit that is my soul.

I’m getting worse you know, I’m not getting better. Except because of DBT everything is in HD, everything has a name.... Anger, Sadness, black-white thinking-unwillingness... all my episodes and moods and feelings have names and that is all it is, names of fucked up shit I can’t control. It is now controlling me, I’m on an auto-pilot plane watching me fuck up everything in the VIP area. 

I wish my mum was here, because at least she would be there holding my hand. So I wouldn’t have to do this alone. I have no one else, no one and to be frank it scares me half to hell. I am more familiar with pain and sadness than happiness. Borderline Personality Disorder is the closest thing to a relationship I’ve ever had.

Tia

x

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

hii! so i was typed an infj, both by cognitive functions tests, personality tests, and the 16 personalities thingy. my enneagram is 6. so because the whole stigma around the mistypings of infj so i get really unsure of my type a lot. no other type resonates with me more but im not the calm, collected version infj’s are made out to be. as my best self i am chaotic, and excited, making no sense at all and being free. i am also not as morally righteous as infjs seem to be, however i used to be more

           chaotic infj back again. i do see myself being easily manipulated by people with npd and such and can also see myself using my NiFe to manipulate others sometimes without even noticing. i also see myself adjusting to those around me to make them the most comfortable, if they need someone shy or outgoing etc. however, because of the N preference in the community i feel i might be mistyped there, when i am in fact an s. i love ideas and big abstract themes such as morality, the nova effect 2/infj            

3/infj politics, mbti, etc but while still in highschool i see myself just wanting facts and facts and no abstract ideas and anytime there is not a definite answer i get anxious. this could be due to the competitive nature of my school and my perfectionism or when i get into an NiTi loop but i also wanted your opinion. i am very self aware and self reflective, hence why i can’t seem to stop doubting who i am, and i know thats a trait of infjs. i also resonate a lot with andrew garfield who is            

4/infj who is an infamous infp and i know im not as idealist as i used to be with politics but i still don’t think im as free flowing as an infp because i don’t revel in being different i hate it. thanks for listening and doing what you do and if you have any thoughts i would really like to hear them            

5/infj, also im sorry about using Ni and Fe and Ti and all those i forgot they were in ur faq and thats normally how i talk about mbti and i also know i used very average descriptions like morally righteous and stuff which is also in ur faq eek, im sorry i tried my best its hard to describe yourself             

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

Hi anon,

Just to get it out of the way, I don’t have a typing for this and my advice is going to be what it is for many high schoolers who have difficulty describing themselves, which is wait until you’ve developed more as a person. It’s always hard to describe yourself, but it’s much harder when many of your choices are made for you and you’re still very much in the midst of figuring out who you are.

A few things to consider when retyping yourself in the future: first, tests are garbage. They type essentially everyone who shows mild curiosity about the world as an intuitive, anyone who isn’t extremely extroverted as an introvert, and reduce the valid differences between judgers and perceivers to neat/messy. I do find they’re often kind of okay on feeling vs. thinking (in the dichotomy sense - they can’t tell apart Fi from Fe), but that’s also something that in many cases I find relatively easy to tell. Anyway, the only thing I’d consider taking away from this is that you’re probably a feeler, and the information you provided seems to back that up.

Second, I’m not sure what your sources are for INFJ behavior. The fact is because this type is so commonly over typed, you can hear arguments for basically everything since people of all types think they’re INFJs and even the same descriptions often contradict, and not in a Walt Whitman kind of way but in a “wow you did not think this through” kind of way. I mean, what kind of moral person prides themselves on the door slam, an immature and stupid thing to do*? So I would just ignore all of those and try to type yourself, as a person, based on the functions.

For manipulations; first, how many people do you know with NPD? Like, actually diagnosed? I’m not saying it’s impossible you’ve run into them but I don’t think I’ve ever run into someone personally with an actual APD or NPD diagnosis that I knew of. Second, what specifically do you mean by manipulation? I find it’s an area that gets weirdly defined on Tumblr and sometimes people use it to refer to like, normally asking people to do things for you which is just being a person. Manipulation has an implication of underhanded tactics.

For liking philosophical ideas: I find most intelligent people do. Intuition vs. Sensing isn’t a matter of liking philosophical ideas in an academic/leisure setting; it’s more specifically about how you interact with them in your actual daily life when you’re not in school or spending your free time. I’m a physicist, like, as my job, and I love physics, and I was drawn to physics by a lot of cool theoretical ideas which I still find interesting - but I have absolutely no desire to be a theoretical physicist professionally. So I have a question, and a caveat here: first, would you be happy spending your life pondering philosophical or theoretical questions as a primary thing that you do? And for the caveat: in high school I absolutely would have said yes, and as a junior in college I realized the answer was actually a strong No, which is yet another reason why I think waiting to type yourself until you’re older is often a very good idea. (Note: this is not a perfect sensing/intuition question by any means anyway - I suspect a lot of ENTJs would answer No here because of their dominant Te. But it’s a valuable question to have in mind when typing yourself.)

I think being a little older will also shed whether you want guidance because you’re a sensor or guidance because of the general nature of high school and academic pressures, and whether you want to fit in because you have Fe or because of the general nature of high school. It’s worth noting that if you’re confident in a 6 core enneagram, that might be a factor whether you use high Fe or high Fi.

I don’t place a lot of value on who you relate to; not only do I not personally know Andrew Garfield’s type I think part of the nature of celebrity (and/or fictional characters) is projecting a persona that can appeal to a lot of people, and the reasons we relate to people often are about shared experience or a shared opinion about something important to us. We can relate to people of different types quite easily - which is good - but it means it’s not really a typing tool.

And finally I guess to clarify - the reason I ask people not to use MBTI terms in asking questions isn’t because I dislike it for its own sake - it’s because it makes it pretty much impossible for me to draw my own conclusions. Typing over the internet is always a challenge because I’m relying on someone’s own unintentionally cherry-picked understanding of their personality, rather than my observation, but when they use functions to describe what they do it, I don’t even know what they’re trying to say because there’s an additional layer of uncertainty based on whether their understanding of Fe (for example) is the same as mine and so I have nothing to go on and won’t be able to answer. Believe me, if the FAQ was about things I dislike rather than things I need to type well I would just be deleting every question in which someone ended a sentence with ‘lol’.

So: no idea on type other than feeler, but I hope the above gives you an idea of what to look for in the future, with the understanding that you might not be able to type yourself accurately for a while, and that’s fine.

*as always I make an exception if you’re cutting off ties with an abuser but a lot of the door slam descriptions aren’t “I stopped talking to my abuser and didn’t tell them why because it would put me in danger,” but rather “this person BETRAYED MY CONFIDENCES and I cannot ever forgive them, they have pushed me too far this time and I have given all of myself, but I shan’t be hurt again, I cannot bear it” and it’s all extremely amateur-production-of-a-Bronte-novel and melodramatic and very silly.